University of Virginia Library

The Ghosts of Hanniball and Scipio to the Authour.

What charm commands us hither to repayre?
And once again salute the upper ayre?
Would Lucian vexe our shadowes? make us tell
Which of us holds priority in Hell?
What art, that do'st with thy Poetick fire
A soule into each Histrio inspire
Like ours? and make them move with active rage
As we did, when the World became our Stage?
We know thee now: thy thinne cheeke, hollow eye,
And ghostlike colour speak the mystery
Thou wouldst, but canst not live by: for the more
Thou do'st enrich thy works, they make thee poore.
Who will by fancy and invention thrive,
Must practise how to flatter men alive.
We would have left thee provinces, hadst thou
Done this whilst we had being here: but now
Pluto restraines our bounties; else wee'ld be
Not ayrie patrons to thy work and thee,
But give thee crowns of Mettall, whilst thy brows
Others did deck with cheap Phebean boughs.
The singer of the Punick wart had bayes
Making our acts his subject; and thy prayse
Should be no lesse. But we are empty things,
Though once we aw'd states, and commanded Kings.