Certain elegant poems, written by Dr. Corbet, Bishop of Norvvich

Certain elegant poems, written by Dr. Corbet, Bishop of Norvvich

Table of contents

Title page

TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE THE Lady Teynbam: Her humble Servant N. N. wisheth eternall Beauty, both in this world, and the world to come.

POEMS.

Iter Boreale.

R. C.

On Bishop Ravis.

On Doctor Corbets Father.

On the death of Master Rice Manciple of Christ-Church.

To his sonne Vincent Corbet.

An Elegy on the late Lord William Howard, Baron of Effingham, dead the 10. of December, 1615.

An Epitaph on Doctor Donne, Deane of Pauls.

Upon Mistris Mallet.

On great Tom of Christ-Church.

On John Dawson Butler of Christ Church. Doctor Corbet.

Doctor Corbet against the Anniversarist.

A Letter sent from Doctor Corbet to Master Ailebury, Decem. 9. 1618.

Doctor Corbet to the Lord Mordant.

To the Duke of Buckingham.

Upon the death of the Lady Haddington dying of the Small Pox.

A proper new Ballad, intituled The Fairies farewel, or God a mercy Will, to be sung or whistled, to the tune of the Medow Brow by the learned, by the unlearned to the tune of Fortune.

To the Ghost of Rob. Wisdome.

An Epitaph on Tho. Jonce.

On the Earl of Dorsets Death.

On Henry Bolings.

The Authors Answer.

A Reply.

§

§

[Page]

[Page] CERTAIN ELEGANT POEMS, WRITTEN By Dr. CORBET, BISHOP OF NORWICH.

London, Printed by R. Cotes for Andrew Crooke at the Green Dragon in Pauls Church-yard, 1647.

TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE THE Lady Teynbam: Her humble Servant N. N. wisheth eternall Beauty, both in this world, and the world to come.

[Page]

[Page]

Madam,

I Have read that a poor and mean Lamp of a great Philosopher, hath been sold at a great price; And I have seen a Medail, [Page] which in the intrinseck value was worth little, sold at a great rate, because it had the Name and Image of some great Person stampt upon it. I therefore that I may gain an extrinseque value to this Book, have presumed to dedicate it unto you, Madam, in hope that your Noblenesse and gentlenesse is as great as your Beauty, which delighteth and causeth admiration in the eyes of all, but those of the envious: And that you will in the permission of your Name to be set before this Book, imitate the custome of Kings, who set their Names on coines of Copper, as well as on those of Gold; and as the King that coines, sets what value hee pleaseth on his [Page] Money; so when your name is set to his Work, I will give it what price [...] please, and every wise person will [...]uy it.

POEMS.

[Page]

[Page]

Iter Boreale.

FOure Clerks of Oxford, Doctors two, and two,

That would be Doctors, having lesse to doe

With Austin, then with Galen, in Vacation

Chang'd studies, and turn'd bookes to recreation

And on the tenth of August Northward bent,

A journey not so soone conceiv'd as spent.

The first halfe day they rode, they light upon

A Noble Clergy host, Kitt Middleton;

Who numbring out good dishes with good tales,

The major part o'th cheere weigh'd downe the scales,

And though the count'nance make the feast, say bookes;

Wee nere found better welcome with worse lookes;

Here we payd thankes, and parted, and at night

Had entertainment all in one mans right,

At Flowre, a Village, where our Tenant shee

Sharpe as a winter morning, fierce, yet free,

With a leane visage like a Carved face

On a Court-cupboard, offer'd up the Place;

[Page] She pleas'd us well, but yet her husband better,

A hearty fellow and a good bone-setter;

Now whither it were providence or lucke,

Whether the keepers or the stealers bucke,

There we had ven'son such as Virgill slew,

When he would feast AEneas and his crew;

Here we consum'd a day, and the next morne,

To Daintry with a Land-winde wee were borne,

It was the Marker, and the Lecture day,

For Lecturers sell Sermons, as the Lay

Doe sheepe and Oxen, have their seasons just,

For both their Markets, there wee dranke downe dust.

I'th' interim comes a most officious drudge,

His face and gowne draw'd out with the same budge,

His pendant pouch which was both large and wide,

Look'd like a Letters-patents by his side:

He was as awfull as he had beene sent

From Moses with the eleventh Commandement;

And one of us he sought, a man of Flower

He must bid stand, and challenge for an hower:

The Doctors both were quitted of their scare,

The one was hoarse, the other was not there,

Therefore him of the two he seised best,

Able to answer him of all the rest,

Because he needs but ruminate that ore,

Which he had chew'd the Sabbath day before;

For though we were resolv'd to doe him right,

For Master Bayleys sake, and Master Wright,

Yet he dissembl'd that the Mace did erre,

For he nor Deacon was, nor Minister;

No quoth the Serjeant, sure then by relation,

You have a licence Sir, or Toleration;

[Page] And if you have no orders 'tis the better,

So you have Dods precepts, or Cleavers letter;

Thus looking on his Mace and urging still,

'Twas Master Wrights, and Master Bayleys will,

That he should mount, at last he condescended

To stoppe the gap, and so the Treaty ended;

The Sermon pleas'd, and when we were to dine,

Wee all had Preachers wages, thankes, and wipe.

Our next dayes stage was Littleworth a Towne

Not willing to be noted, or set downe,

By any Traveller, for when we had beene

Through at both ends, wee could not find an Inne,

Yet for the Church sake turne and light wee must,

Hoping to finde one dramme of Wickless dust,

But wee found none, for underneath the Pole,

No more rests of his body, then his Soule;

Abused Martyr, how hast thou beene torne,

By two wilde factions! first the Papists burne

Thy bones for hate, the Puritanes in zeale

Doe sell thy Marble, and thy Brasse they steale.

A Parson met us there who had great store

Of Livings, some say, but of Manners more;

In whose streight cheerefull age a man might see

Well govern'd fortune, bounty, wise and free;

He was our guide to Lester, save one mile,

There was his dwelling where wee stay'd a while

And dranke stale Beere, I thinke was never new,

Which the dunne wench that brought it us did brew;

And now wee are at Lester, where wee shall

Leapeo're sixe steeples and an Hospitall

Twice told, those Lande-markes I referre

To Cambdens[?] eye, Englands Chronogropher;

[Page] Let me observe the Almes mens Herauldry,

Who being ask'd what Henry that should bee

That was their founder Duke of Lancaster,

Answer'd, 'T was John of Gaunt, I assure you Sir;

And so consured all their walls that said;

Henry of Ric [...]mond this foundation laid.

The next thing to be noted was our Cheere,

Enlarg'd with seaven and six pence, bread and beere.

But O you wretched Tapsters as you are,

Who reckon by your number, not your sare;

And set false figures for all Companies,

Abusing innocent Meales, with oathes and lyes;

Forbeare your Cousnage to Divines that come,

Lest they bee thought to drinke all that you summe.

Spare not the laity in your reckoning thus,

But sure your thest to us is scandalous.

Away my Muse from this base Subject, know

Thy Pegasus nere strucke his soote so low:

Is not th' usurping Richard buryed here,

That King of hate, and therefore slave of feare;

Drag'd from the satall lield Bosworth, where hee

Lost life, and what he liv'd for, Cruelty?

Search, finde his name, but there is none; O Kings

Remember whence your Powre, and vastnesse springs:

If not as Richard now, so may you bee,

Who hath no Tombe, but Scorne and Memorie.

And though from his owne store Wolsey might have

A Palace, or a Colledge for his grave;

Yet here he lyes in [...]rr'd, as if that all

Of him to be remembred were his fall:

Nothing but earth to earth, nor pompous weight

Upon him but a pebble, or a quayte.

[Page] If thou art thus neglected, what shall wee

Hope after death that are but shreds of thee?

Hold! William calls to horse, William is he,

Who though he never saw threescore and three,

Ore-reckon'd us in age, as he before

In drink, and will bate nothing of fourescore;

And he commands, as if the warrant came,

From the great Earle himselfe, to Notinghame:

There wee crosse Trent, and on the other side

Pray'd for Saint Andrew, as up hill wee ride.

Where wee observ'd the cunning men like Moles

Dwelt not in houses, but were [...]arth'd in holes.

So did they not build upwards, but digge thorough,

As Hetmits Caves, or Coneys doe their Borough.

Great underminers sure as any where,

'Tis thought the powder Traytots practis'd there.

Would you not thinke that men stood on their heads,

When Gardens cover houses there, like leads,

And on the Chimnies toppe, the maide may know,

Whether her potrage boyle, or not, below;

There cast in herbes, or Salt, or bread, her meate,

Contented rather with the smoake, then heate.

This was the rockie Parish, higher stood

Churches and houses, buildings, stone and wood,

Crosses not yet demolish'd, and our Lady,

With her armes on; embracing her whole Baby:

Where let us note, though these be Northerne parts,

The Crosse findes in them more then Southerne harts.

The Castle's next; but what shall wee report,

Of that which now is ruine, was a fort?

The Gates, two Statues keepe, which Gyants are,

To whom, it seemes, committed is the care

[Page] Of the whole downefall, if it be your fault,

If you are guilty, may King Davids vault

Or Mortimers darke Cell containe you both,

A just reward for so prophane a sloath;

And if hereafter tydings shall be brought

Of any place, or office to be bought,

And your left lead, or unwedg'd timber yet

Shall passe by your consent to purchase it,

May your deformed Bulkes endure the edge

Of axos, feele the beerle and the wedge,

May all the ballads be call'd in and dye,

That sing the wars of Colebrand, and Sir Guy;

O yee that do Guild Hall and Holmby keepe

So carefully when both the Founders sleepe,

You are good Gyants, and partake no shame,

With these two worthlesse trunks of Notingham:

Looke to your sev'rall charges, we must go,

Though griev'd at heart to leave a Castle so.

The Bull-head is the word, and we must eate,

No sorrow can descend so low as meate:

So to the Inne we came, where our best che [...]re,

Was that his Grace of Yorke had lodged there.

He was objected to us when we call,

Or dislike ought, my Lords Grace answers all;

He was contented with this bed, this dyet,

This keeps our discontented stomacks quier.

The Inne keeper was old, fourescore almost,

Indeed an Embleme, rather then an Host:

In whom wee read how God and Time decree,

To honour thrifty Hostlers, such as he:

For in the stable first he did begin,

Now see he is so [...]e Lord of the whole Inne.

[Page] Marke the increase of straw, and hay, and how

By thrift a bottle may become a Mow,

Marke him all yee that have the golden Itch,

All whom God hath condemned to be rich;

Farewell glad father of thy daughter Mayresse,

Thou Hostler Phoenix, thy example rare is.

Wee are for Newarke after this sad talke,

And thither 'tis no journey but a walke,

Nature is want on there, and the high way

Seem'd to bee private though it open lay;

As if some swelling Lawyer for his health,

Or srantique Usurer to [...]ame his wealth,

Had chosen out two miles by Trent, to try

Two great effects of Art and Industry:

The ground wee tread is meadow fertile land,

New trimm'd, and leveld by the Mowers hand,

Above [...]t grew a rocke, rude, steepe and high,

Which claimes a kind of Rev'rence from the Eye:

Betwixt them both there flides a lively streame,

Not lo [...]d, but swift: M [...]ande was a Theame

Crooked and rough, but had those Poets seene

Streight-even Trent, it had immortall beene;

This side the open plaine admits the Sunne,

To halfe the River which did open ru [...]ne;

The other halfe ra [...]ne clouds, where the curld wood

With his exalted head threatned the flood:

Here I could wish us never passing by,

And never past; Now Newarke is too nigh;

And as a Christmasse seeme a day but short,

Deluding times with revels, and good sport,

So did this beaurious mixture us beguile,

And the whole twelve being travail'd seem'd one mile.

[Page] Now as the way was sweete, so was the End,

Our Passage easie, and our prize a Friend;

Whom there we did enjoy, and for whose sake

As for a kind of purer coyne men make

Us lib'rall welcome, with such Harmony

As the whole Towne had beene his Family

Mine host of the next Inne did not repine

That we perfer'd the Hart and pass'd his signe:

And where we lay the host and hostesse saine

Would shew our loves were aym'd at, nor their gaine.

The very beggers were so ingenuous,

They rather pray sor him, then beg of us;

And so the Doctors friends be pleas'd to stay,

The P [...]ritans will let the Organs play.

Would they pull downe the Gallery builded new,

With the Church wardens seate and Burleigh pew?

Newarke for light, and beauty might compare

With any Church, but what Cathedrals are:

To this belongs a Vi [...]ar, who succeeded

The friend I mention'd, such a one there needed,

A man whose life and tongue is eloquent,

Able to char [...] those n [...]inous head [...] of Trent,

And urge the Canon home when they conspire

Against the Crosse and B [...]ls with sword and fire:

There stood a Castle too, they shew us here

The place where the King slept, the window where

He talk'd with such a Lord, how long he stayd

In his discourse, and all but what he sayd.

From whence without a perspective we see

Bever and Lincolne, where we faine would bee,

But that our purse, and horses too were bound

Within the compasse of a n [...]rrower ground.

[Page] Our purpose is all homeward, and 'twas time

At parting to have wi [...], as well as wine.

Full th [...]ee a clocke and twenty miles to ride,

Will aske a speedy horse, and a sure Guide:

We wanted both, and Lowborough may glory,

Error hath made it famous in our story.

'Twas night, and the swift horses of the Sunne

Two houres b [...]ore our Jades their race had runne;

Nor pilor, Moone, nor any such kinde starre,

As guided those Wise men that came from farre,

To holy Bethlem; such lights had they binne

They would have soone conveyd us to an Inne:

But all were wandring starres, and we as they

Were taught no course but to ride on and stray:

When Oh the fate of darknesse, who hath try'd it,

Here our whole Fleete it scatter'd, and divided!

And now we labour more to meere, then erst

We did to lodge; the last cryes downe the first;

Our voyces are all spent, and they that follow

Can now no longer tracke us by the hollow;

They curse the foremost, we the hindmost, both

Accusing with like patience, haste, and sloth.

At last upon a little Towne we fall,

Where some for drinke, some for a candle call:

Unhappy we! such straglers as we are,

Admire a Candle oft [...]er then a starre;

We care not for those glorious lights aloofe,

Give us a [...]allow Candle, a dry roofe.

And now we have a guide, weele cease to chase,

Now we have time to pray the rest be safe,

Our guide before cries Come, and we the whiles

Ride blindfold, and take bridges to be styles,

[Page] Till at the last we overcome the darke,

And spight of night and error hit the marke:

Some halfe houre after enters the whole rayle,

As if they were committed to the Jayle;

The Constable that tooke 'em thus divided,

Made 'em seeme apprehended and not guided,

Where when wee had our fortunes both detes [...]ed,

Compassion made us friends, and so we rested;

Twas quickly morning, though by our short stay,

Wee could not find that wee had lesse to pay;

All Travellers these heavy judgements heare,

A handsome hostesse makes a reckoning deare;

Her smiles, her words, your purses must requ [...] 'em,

And every welcome from her adds an Item.

Glad to be gone from hence, at any rate,

For Bosworth wee are hors'd: behold the sate

Of mortall men, foule error is a mother,

And pregnant once doth soone beget another:

Wee who last night did learne to lose our way,

Are perfect since, and further out next day,

And in a Forest having travaild sore,

Like wandring Bevi [...] he found the Boare,

Or as some Love-sicke Lady of [...] hath done,

Before she was rescued by the knight o [...]th Sunne,

So are we lost, and meet no comfort then

But Carts and horses, wiser then the men:

Which is the way? They neither speake, nor point,

Their tongues and fingers, both are out of joynt,

Such monsters by Cole Herton banks there sit,

After their Resurrection from the pit.

Whiles in this Mill wee labour and turne round,

As in a Conjurers circle, William found

[Page] A meanes for our delivery, Turne your clokes

Quoth he, for Pucke is busie in these Oakes;

If ever ye at Bosworth will be found,

Then turne your Cloakes, for this is Fairie ground.

But e're this witchcraft was perform'd, wee meete

A very man, who had not cloven feere,

Though William still of little saith doth doubt,

'Tis Robin or some Spirit walkes about,

Strike him, quoth he, and it will turne to aire,

Crosse your selves thrice, and strike him: Strike that dare

Thought I, for sure this massie Forester,

In blowes will prove the better Conjurer;

But 'twas a gentle keeper, one that knew

Humanity and manners where they grew,

And rode along with us, till he could say,

Loe yonder Bosworth stands, and this your way.

And now when we had sweat, 'twixt Sunne and Sunne;

And eight miles long, to thirty broade had runne,

Wee learn'd the just proportion from hence,

Of the Diameter, and Circumference.

That night made yet amends, our meate, our sheeres,

Were farre above the promise of those streetes,

Those houses that were til'd with straw and mosse,

Promis'd but weake repaire for that dayes losse

Of patience, yet this outside lets us know,

The worthy'st things make not the greatest show.

The shot was easie, and what concernes us more,

The way was so, mine host did ride before,

Mine host was full of Ale, and History,

And on the morrow when he brought us high

Where the two Roses joyned, you would suppose,

Chaueer nere writ the Romant of the Rose,

[Page] Heare him: see yee yond' woods? there Richard lay

With his whole Army: looke the other way,

And loe where Richmond in a bed of grosse,

Encamp'd himselfe o're night with all his sorce.

Upon this Hill they met; why, he could tell

The Inch where Richmond stood, where Richard sell;

Besides what of his knowledge he could say,

Hee had Authenrique notice from the Play;

Which I might guesse by's mustrimg up the Ghosts,

And policies not incident to hosts:

But chiefly by that one perspicuous thing,

Where he mistooke a Player for a King,

For when he would have said, King Richard dy'd,

And call'd a Horse, a Horse, he Burbage cry'd.

How e're his talke, his company pleas'd well,

His Mare went truer then his Chronicle;

And even for Conscience sake uns purr'd, unbeaten,

Brought us sixe miles and turn'd taile to New-Eaton;

From thence to Coventrey, where we scarce dine,

Onely our stomachs warm'd with zeale and wine,

And thence as if wee were predestin'd sorch,

Like Lot from Sodome, flye to Killingworth.

The keeper of the Castle was from home,

So that halfe mile was lost; yet when wee come

An host receives us there, wee ne're deny him,

My Lord of Losters man, the Parson by him;

Who had no other proose to testifie,

He serv'd the Lord, but age and bawdery.

Away for shame, why should three miles divide

Warwicke, and us? they that have horses ride,

A short mile from the Towne, an humble shrine,

At foore of a high rocke consists in signe

[Page] Of Guy and his devotions, who there stands,

Ugly and huge, more then a man on's hands,

His Helmet steele, his Gorget Mayle, his Shield

Brasse, made the Chappell fearfull as a field.

And let this answer all the Popes complaints:

Wee set up Gyants, though wee pull downe Saints.

Beyond this in the rode way as wee went,

A pillar stands where this Colossus leant,

Where he would love, and sigh, and for hearts case

Oft times write verses, some say such as these.

Here will I languish in this silly bower,

While my sweere heart triumphs in yonder Tower.

No other hindrance now, but wee may passe,

Cleare to our Inne; Oh there an hostesse was,

To whom the Castle and the dunne Cowe are

Sights after dinner, shee is morning wa [...]e,

Her whole behaviour borrowed was and mixt,

[...]se foole, halfe puppet, and her pace betwixt

Measure and Jigge, her courtsy was an honour,

Her gare as if her neighbours had out gone her;

Shee was barr'd up in Whale bones that did leese

None of the whales length, for they reach'd her knees;

Off with her head, and then shee hath a middle,

As her Wast stands, just like the new found fiddle,

The favourite Theorbo, truth to tell yee,

Whose neck and throate are deeper then the belly:

Have you seene Monkeys chain'd about the loynes,

Or pottle pots, with rings? just so shee joynes

Her selfe together; a dressing shee doth love,

In a small print below, and text above.

What though her name be King, yet 'tis no treason,

Nor breach of Statute to enquire the reason

[Page] Of her branch'd russe, a Cubit every poake

I seeme to wende her, but she strucke the stroake

At our departure, and our worships there

Payd for our titles deare, as any where.

Though Beadles and Professors both have done,

Yet every Inne claimes augmentation:

Please you walke out and see the Castle, come,

The owner saith, it is a Schollers home,

A place of strength, and health, in the same Fort

You would conceive a Castle and a Court,

The Orchards, Gardens, Rivers and the Ay e

May with the Trenches, Rampires, Wals compare,

It seemes no art, no force can intercept it,

As if a Lover built, a Souldier kept it;

Vp to the Tower, though it bee steepe and high,

Wee doe not clime, but walk; and though the eye

Seeme to be weary, yet our feet are still

In the same posture, cousn'd up the Hill,

And thus the workemans art deceives our sence,

Making those rounds of pleasure and defence.

As wee descend the Lord of all this frame,

The Honourable Chancellour to us came,

Above the hill there blew a gentle breath,

But now wee feele a sweeter gale beneath,

The phrase and welcome of this Knight did make

The place more elegant: each word he spake

Was wine and musicke, which he did expose

To us if all our art could censure those:

With him there was a Prelate, by his place

Arch deacon to the Bishop, by his face

A greater man, for that did counterfeit

Lord Abbot of some Covent standing yet,

[Page] A corpulent relique, marry and'tis sinne,

Some Puritane gets not that face call'd in;

A [...]ongst leane brethren it may scandall bring,

That looke for parity in ev'ry thing;

For us let him enjoy all that God sends,

Plenty of flesh, of livings and of friends,

Imagine us here ambling downe the streete,

Circling in Flower, and making both ends meere,

Where wee sare well foure dayes, and did complaine

Like harvest folkes of weather and of raine,

And on the feast of B [...]olmew we try,

What Revels that Saint keepes at Ba [...]bury;

I [...]h name of God Amen first to beginne,

The altar[?] was converted to an Inne,

Wee lodged in the Chappell by the signe,

But in a banck'rupt Taveme by the wine,

Besides our horses usage makes us thinke,

'Twas still a Church, for they in Coffins drinke,

As if'twere congruous that the ancient stlye

Close by those Altars in whose faith they dye;

Now you believe the Church hath great varietie

Of Monuments when Innes have such societie,

But nothing lesse, ther's no inscription there,

But the Church-wardens of the last yeare,

In stead of Saints in windowes, and in wals,

Here buckets hang, and there a Cobweb fals:

Would you not thinke they love antiquity,

Who rush their quire for perpetuity,

Whilst all the other pavements and the floore

Are supplicant to the surveyors power

Of the high wayes, that he would gravell'd keepe

Them, or in winter sure they will bee deepe;

[Page] If not for Gods sake, for Master Wheatley's sake,

Levell the Walkes; suppose these pit-sals make

Him spraine a Lecture, or misplace a joynt

In his long prayer, or in his seventeenth point,

Thinke you the Dawes and S [...]ares can set him right?

Surely this sinne upon your heads will light;

And say, Beloved, what unchristian charme

Is this, you have not left a leg or arme

Of an Apostle? Thinke you it those were whole,

They would arise at last t'assume a soule?

If not, 'tis plaine all the Idolatry

Lyes in your solly, not the imag'ry.

'Tis well, the pinnacles are falne in twaine,

For now the devill should he tempt againe,

Hath no advantage of a place so high:

Fooles! he can dash you from your Gallery,

Where all your medley meetes, and doe compare

Not what you learne, but who was longest there;

The Puritan, the Anabaptist, Brownist,

Like a grand Sallad, Tinkers, what a Towne is't?

The Crosses also like old stumps of Trees,

Or stooles for horsemen that have seeble knees,

Carry no heads above Ground: those which tell,

That Christ hath n [...]re descended into Hell,

But to the Grave, his picture buryed have

In a farre deeper dungeon then a Grave,

That is descended to endure what paines

The Devill can thinke, or such disciples braines.

No more my griefe, in such prophane abuses

Good whips make better verses then the Muses:

Away, and looke nor backe, away, while yet

The Church is standing, while the benefit

[Page] Osseeing it remaines so long you shall

Have that rackt downe and call'd Apocryphall,

And in some Barne heare cited many an Author,

Ka [...] Stubs Anne Ascue, or the Ladies daughter,

Which shall be urg'd for Fathers: stop disdaine,

When Oxford once appeares Saran refraine.

Neighbours, how hath our anger [...]lius out-gone us,

Is not Saint Gileses this, and that Saint Johns?

We are return'd, but just just[?] so much ore

As Rauleigh from his voyage, and no more.

R. C.

WHen too much zeale doth fire devotion,

Love is not love, but superstition:

Even so in civill duties when we come

Too oft, we are not kind, but troublesome,

Yet as the first is not Idolatry[?],

So is the last, but grieved industry,

And such was mine whose strife[?] to honour you

By overplus, hath robd you of your due.

On Bishop Ravis.

WNen I passe Pauls, and travai [...] in the walke,

Where all our Brittish sinners sweare and talke,

[Page] Old hairy Ruffins, Bankrupts, South sayers,

And youth whose cousenage is as old as theirs;

And there behold the body of my Lord,

Trod under foot by vice which he abhord.

It wounded me the Land lord of all times

Should let long lives and leases to their crimes;

But to his saving honour scarce afford

But so much Sunne as to the Prophets Gourd,

Yet since swift flights and envy hath best end,

Like breath of Angels with a blessing send,

And vanisheth withall, while fouler deeds

Expect a tedious harvest of bad seeds;

I blame not fame and nature if they gave

Where they could adde no more, the last a grave;

And justly doe thy grieved friends forbeare

Bubble and Alablaster boyes to reare

Ore thy religious dust, but bid men know

Thy life, which such illusions cannot show;

For thou hast dyed amongst those happy ones,

Who trust not in their superstitions,

Their hired Epitaphs, and perjur'd stone,

Which oft belies the soule when she is gone,

But durst commit thy body as it lies,

To tongues of living men, not unborne eyes;

What profits thee a sheet of lead, what good?

If on thy course a marble Quarry stood?

Let those that feare their rising purchase vaults,

And send their statues [...] faults

As if like birds that picke at painted grapes,

Their Judge knew not their persons from their shapes,

Whilst thou assured by thy easie dust

Shalt spring at first, they would not, yet they must:

[Page] Not need the Chancellor boast, whose Pyramis

Above the Host and altar reared is;

For though thy body fill a narrow roome,

Thou shalt not change deed [...] with him for his Tombe.

R. Corbet.

On Doctor Corbets Father.

VIncent Corbet farther known

By Pointers name then by his owne,

Here lies engaged till the day

Of raysing bones and quickning clay:

No wonder reader that he hath

Two Sir-names in one Epitaph,

For this one doth comprehend

All that both families could lend;

And if to know more art then any

Could multiply one into many,

Here a Colony lies then

Both of qualities and men.

Yeares he liv'd were neere fou [...]score;

But count his vertues, he liv'd more;

And number him by doing good,

He liv'd the age before, the flood.

Should we undertake his story,

Truth would seeme fain'd, and fainednesse glory:

Besides the Tablet were too small,

Adding the pillars[?] and the wall;

[Page] Yet of this volume much, if found,

Writ in many a fertill ground,

Where the Printer thee affords

Earth for Paper, Trees for Words

He was natures Factor here,

And leiger [...]gu for every shiere;

To supply the ingenious wants

Of some Spring fruits, and fortaine plants.

Simple he was, and withall,

His purs [...] not base, nor prodigall,

Poorer in substance, then in friends,

Future and publique were his end [...]

His conscience like his diet, such

As neither tooke nor left too much,

So the made lawes needlesse growne

To him, he needed but his owne:

Did he his neighbour bid like those

That feast them onely to enclose,

Or with their Roastmeat rack their [...],

And cousen them with their [...] consents?

No the free meeting of his board

Did but one liberall sense afford;

No Close or Aker understood,

But onely love and neighbourhood

His Almes were such as Paul defines[?],

Nor causes to be said, but [...]

Which Almes by faith, hope, love, laid downe,

I ayd up what now he wea [...], a Crowne.

Besides his fame, his goods, his life,

He left a griev'd sonne and wife;

Strange sorrow scarce to be b [...]leev'd,

When as a sonne and heire is griev'd.

R. Corbet.

[Page]

On the death of Master Rice Manciple of Christ-Church.

WHo can doubt (Rice) to what eternall place

Thy soule is fled, that did but know thy face?

Whose body was so light it might have gone

To heaven without a resurrection;

Indeed tho [...] wert all Type, thy limbes were signes,

Thy Arteries but Mathematick lines;

As i [...] two soules had made the compound good,

Which both should live by faith, and none by blood.

R. C.

To his sonne Vincent Corbet.

WHat I shall leave thee none can tell,

But all shall say I wish thee well;

I wish thee (Vin) before all wealth,

Both bodily and ghostly health;

Nor too much wealth, nor wit come to thee,

So much of either may undoe thee.

I wish thee learning, not for show,

Enough for to instruct, and know;

Not such as Gentlemen require

To prate at Table, or at Fire.

[Page] I wish thee all thy mothers graces,

Thy fathers fortunes, and his places.

I wish thee friends, and one'at Cou [...]t

Not to build on, but support,

To keepe thee, not in doing many

Oppressions, but from suffering any.

I wish thee p [...]ace in all thy way [...],

Nor Lazy nor contentious day [...]s;

And when thy soule and body part,

As innocent as now thou a [...].

R. C.

An Elegy on the late Lord William Howard, Baron of Effingham, dead the 10. of December, 1615.

I Did not know thee, Lord, nor doe I strive

To winne accesse, or grace, with Lords alive:

The dead I serve, from whence nor faction can

Move me, nor favour; nor a greater man.

To whom no vice commends me, nor bribe sent,

Fr [...] whom no Penance warnes, nor portion spent,

To these I dedicate as much of me

As I can spare from my owne husbandry:

And till Ghosts walke, as they were wont to doe,

I trade for some, and doe these errants too.

But first I doe enquire, and am assur'd,

What tryals in their Journeys they endur'd,

[Page] What certainties of Honour and of worth,

Their most uncertaine Life times have brought forth;

And who so did least hurt of this small store,

He is my patron, dy'd he rich or poore.

First I will know of Fame (after his peace,

When Flattery and Envy both doe cease)

Who rul [...]d his actions: Reason, or my Lord?

Did the whole man relie upon a word,

A badge of Title, or above all chance

Seem'd he as Ancient as his Cognisance?

What did he? Acts of mercy and refraine

Oppre [...]ions in himselfe, and in his Traine?

Was his essentiall table full as free

As boasts and invitations use to be?

Where if his Russet-friend did chance to dine,

Whether his Satten-man would fill him wine?

Did he thinke perjury as lov [...]d a sinne,

Himselfe for sworne, as is his slave had beene?

Did he seeke regular pleasures? was he knowne

Just Husband of one Wife, and she his owne?

Did he give freely without p [...]use, or doubt,

And read petitions, ere they were worne out?

Or should his well-deserving Client aske,

Would he bestow a Tilting, or a Maske

To keepe need vertuous? And that done not feare

What Lady damn'd him for his absence there?

Did he attend the Court for no mans fall?

Wore he the ruine of no Hospitall?

And when he did his rich apparell don,

Put he no Widow, nor an Orphan on?

Did he love simple vertue for the thing?

The King for no respect but for the King?

[Page] But above all, did his Religion wait

Upon Gods Throne, or on the Chaire of state?

He that is guiltie of no Quaere here,

Our-lasts his Epitaph, our-lives his Heire.

But there is none such, none so little bad,

Who but this negative goodnesse ever had:

Of such a Lord we may expect the birth,

He's rather in the wombe than on the earth.

And 'twere a Crime in such a publike fate.

For one to live well and degenerate:

And therefore I am angry, when a name

Comes to upbraid the World like E [...]ingham.

Nor was it modest in thee to de part

To thy eternall home, where now thou art,

Ere thy reproach was ready: or to dye,

Ere custome had prepar'd thy calumny.

Eight dayes have past since thou hast paid thy debt

To sinne, and not a libell stirring yet,

Courtiers that scoffe by Patent, silent sit.

And have no use of Slander or of wit;

But (which is monstrous) though against the tide,

The Water-men have neither rayld nor lide.

Of good and bad there's no distinction knowne,

For in thy praise the good and bad are one.

It seemes we all are coverous of Fame,

And hearing what a purchase of good name

Thou lately mad'st, are carefull to increase

Our title by the holding of some lease

From thee our Land-lord, and for that th'whole c [...]ue

Speake now like Tenants ready to renew:

It were too sad to tell thy pedeg [...]ee,

Death hath disordered all, misplacing thee,

[Page] Whilst now thy Herauld in his line of heires

Blots out thy name, and fils the space with teares.

And thus hath conqu'ring death, or nature rather,

Made thee prepostrous ancient to thy Father,

Who grieves th'art s [...], and like a glorious light

Shines ore thy H [...]arse.

He therefore that would write

And blaze thee throughly, may at once say all,

Here lies the Anchor of our Admirall.

Let others write for glory or reward,

Truth is well paid, when the is sung and heard.

R. Corbet.

An Epitaph on Doctor Donne, Deane of Pauls.

HE that would write an Epitaph for thee

And doe it well, must [...]st begin to be

Such as thou wert; for none can truly know

Thy worth, thy life, but he that hath liv'd so.

He must have wit to spare, and to hu [...]le downe

Enough to keepe the Gallams of the Towne,

He must have learning plenty, both the Laws,

Civill and Common, to judge any cause;

Divinitie great store, above the rest,

Not of the last Edition, but the best.

He must have language [...]ravaile, all the Arts.

Judgement to use, or else hee wants thy parts;

[Page] He must have friends the highest, able to doe,

Such as Mecan [...]s and Augustus too.

He must have such a sicknesse, such a death,

Or else his vaine descriptions come beneath.

Who then shall write an Epitaph for thee

He must be dead first, let't alone for me.

R. Corbet.

Upon Mistris Mallet.

HAve I renounc'd my faith? or basely sold

Salvation, or my loyalty for gold?

Have I some fo [...] in practice undertooke

By poyson, shot, sharpe knife, or sharper looke

To kill my King? have I be [...]ay'd the State

To fire or fury, or some newer fate?

Which learn'd murtherers, those grand destinies,

The Jesuits have nurst if of all these

I guilty am, proceed, I am content

That Mallet take me for my punishment:

For never sinne was of so high a rate

But one nights hell with thee could expiate:

Although the law with Garne [...] and the rest

Deale farre more mildly, hanging's but a jest

To this immortall torture; had she beene

In Martyrs torrid dayes ingendred, when

Cruelty was wit [...]y, and invention free

Did live by blood and thrive by cruelty,

[Page] Shee would have beene more horrid engins sa [...]

Then sire or famine, tacke or halters are.

Whether her wit, forme, talke, smile, tire I name,

Each is a stock of tyranny and shame.

But for her breath, spectators, come nor nigh,

That layes about, God blesse the company.

The man in a Beares skin baited to death

Would abuse the dogs much rather then her breath.

One kisse of hers, and eighteene words alone

Puts downe the Spanish inquisition.

Thrice happy we (quoth I) thinking thereon,

That see no dayes of persecution,

For were it free to kill, this grilly else

Would Martyrs make in compasse of her selfe.

And were she not prevented by our prayer

By this time she corrupted had the ayre.

And am I innocent? and is it true

That thing which Poet Pliny never knew.

Nor Assri [...]k, Nile, not ever Hackluits eyes

Descri'd in all his East, West voiages?

That thing which Poets were afraid to saine

For feare her shadow should infect their braine,

This spouse of Antichrist, and hers alone

Shee' [...] [...]rest so like the whore of Babylon,

Should dote on me? as if there should contrive

The devill and shee to damne a man alive.

Why doth not Welcome rather purchase her,

And beate about this rare familiar?

Six market dayes, a Wake, and a Faire too't

Would beate his charges, and the ale to boore.

No Tigerlike, she seeds upon a man,

Worse then a Tygresse or a Leopard can,

[Page] Let me goe pray and thinke upon some spell,

At once to bid the Devill and her farewell.

R. Corbet.

On great Tom of Christ-Church.

BE dumbe ye infant Chime [...], thumpe nor your mettle,

That nee'r out-ting a Tinker and his Kenle,

Cease all your petty La [...]s, for to day

Is young Toms resurrection from the clay:

And know when Tom rings out his knells,

The best of you will be but dinner bells:

Old Tom's growne young againe, the fiery cave

Is now his Cradle that was erst his grave;

He grew up quickly from his mother earth,

For all you see was but an houres birth,

Looke on him well, my life I dare ingage

You nee'r saw prettier Baby of his age.

Some take his measure by the rule, some by

The Jacobs Staffe take his profundirie,

And some his altitude but some doe sweare

Young Tom's not like the old, but Tom nee'r feare

The critick Geometricians line.

If thou as loud as e're thou did ring'st nine;

Tom did no sooner peepe from under ground,

But straight Saint Maries Tenor lost his sound;

O how this May poles heart did swell

With full maine sides of joy, when that crackt bell

[Page] [...]hoakt with annoy, and's admiration,

[...]ung like a quart pot to the Congregation;

Tom went his progresse lately and look [...] o're

What he nee'r saw in many yeares before,

But when he saw the old foundation,

With like hope of preparation,

He burst with griese, and left he should not have

Due pompe, he's his owne Bell man to the grave:

And that there might of him be full some mention,

He carryed to his grave a new invention,

They drew his Browne bread face on pretty gins.

And make him stalk upon two Rowling-pins,

But Sander Hill swore twice or thrice by heaven,

He nee'r set such a loafe into the Oven;

And Tom did Sanders vex his Cyclops maker

As much as he did Sander Hill the Bak [...]r;

Therefore loud thumping Tom be thi [...] thy pride,

When thou this motto shall have on thy side.

Great world! one Alexander conquer'd thee,

And two as mighty men scarce conquer'd me.

Brave constant spirit, none could make thee turne,

Though hang'd, drawne, quarter'd, till they did thee burne;

Yet not for this, norten times more be sorry,

Since thou was marryr'd for the Churches glory,

But for thy meritorious suffering

Thou shortly shalt to heaven in a string;

And though we griev [...]d to see thee thumpt and bang'd,

Wee'l all be glad great Tom to see thoe haug'd.

[Page]

On John Dawson Butler of Christ Church. Doctor Corbet.

DAwson the Butler's dead, although I thinke

Poets were nee'r infus'd with single drinke,

Ile spend a farthing Muse, a warry verse

Will serve the turue to cast upon his hearse.

If any cannot weepe among us her [...]t,

Take off his cup, and so sque [...]ze out [...]reare.

Weepe O ye barrells, let your drippings fall

In trickling streames, make wast more prodigall,

Then when our beare was good, that John may float

To S [...]yx in heare, and list up Charons boat,

With wholesome waves: and as the Conduits ran

With Claret, at the Coronation,

So let your Channels flow with single tiffe,

For John I hope is crown'd; take off your whisfe,

Ye men of Rosematy, and drinke up all,

Remembring 'tis a Bu [...]s sunerall

Had he beene master of good double beare,

My life for his, John Dawson had beene here.

Doctor Corbet against the Anniversarist.

EVen so dead Hector thrice was triumpht on

The walls of Troy, thrice slaine when fates had done,

[Page] So did the barba [...]us Greekes before their host

Toiment his ashes, and prophane his Ghost,

At Henries vault his peace and sacred hearse

Are torne and battered[?] by thy anniverse;

Wast not enough nature and strength were foes,

But thou must yearely murther him in prose?

Or couldst thou hope thy raving phrase could make

A louder eccho then the Almanacke?

Trust me, November doth more gastly looke

In Dades and Hoprens penny, then thy booke.

A sadder record their sixt figure beares,

Then thy false printed and ambitious rea [...]s,

For were it not for Christians which is n [...]gh.

When fruite, spice, eaten, and digested Pye

Call for more paper, no man could make sh [...]:

How to imploy thy writings to his thri [...]t

Wherefore for beare for pity, or for shame,

And bid some richer pen redeeme his name

From rottennesse, leave thou him captive, since

So vile a Price nee'r ransom'd such a Prince.

A Letter sent from Doctor Corbet to Master Ailebury, Decem. 9. 1618.

MY Brother and much more, hadst thou been mine,

Hadst thou in one rich present of a line

Inclos'd Sir Francis, for in all this store,

No gift can cost thee lesse, or binde me more,

[Page] Hadst thou (deare churle) imparted his returne,

I should not with a tardy welcome burne;

But had let loose my joy at him long since,

Which now will seeme but studied negligence;

But I forgive thee, two things kept thee from it,

First such a friend to gaze on, next a Comet,

Which Comet we discerne, though not so true

As you at Sion, as long taild as you,

We know already how will stand the case,

With Barnavell of universall grace,

Though Spaine deserve the whole Star, is the fall

Be true of Lerma Duke, and Cardinall,

Marry in France, we feare no blood, but wine,

Lesse danger's in her sword, then in her vine:

And thus we leave the blazers comming over

For our portents are wise and end at Dov [...];

And though we use no forward censuring,

Not send our learned Proctors to the King,

Yet every morning when the starre doth rise,

There is no blacke for three houres in our eyes;

But like a Puritane dreamer towards this light

All eyes turne upward, all are zeale and white:

More it is doubtfull that this prodigie

Will turne ten Schooles to one Astronomy;

And the Analysis we justly feare,

Since every Art doth, seeke for resene there,

Physitians, Lawyers, Glovers on the stall,

The Shopkeepers speake Mathematicks all,

And though men read no Gospels in these signes,

Yet all professions are become Divines,

All weapons from the Bodk in to the Pike,

The Masons Rule, and Tailors Yard alike,

[Page] Take altitudes, and th'early sidling knaves,

On Fluirs and Hoboyes, made them Jacobs slaves,

Lastly of fingers, glasses we contrive,

And every first is made a Prospective;

Burton to Gunter Cants, and Burton heares

From Gunter, and th [...] Exchange both tongue & eare,

By carriage: thus doth mired Guy complaine,

His Waggon in their letters beates Charles Waine,

Charles Waine, [...]o which they say the tayle will reach

And at this distance they both heare, and teach.

Now for the peace of God and men, advise

(Thou that hast wherewith all to make us wise)

Thine owne rich studies, and deepe Harriors mine,

In which there is no drosse, but all refine,

O tell us what to trust to, lest we wax

All stiffe and stupid with his paralex;

Say, shall the old Philosophy be true?

Or doth he ride above the Moone thinke you?

Is he a Meteor forced by the Sun?

Or a first body from creation?

Hath the same starre beene object of the wonder

Of our forefathers? shall the same come under

The sentence of our Nephewes? write and send

Or else this starre a quarrell doth pretend.

Doctor Corbet to the Lord Mordant.

MY Lord, I doe confesse at the first newes

Of your returne from home, I did refuse

[Page] To visit you, for feare the Northerne winde

Had pierc'd into your manners, and your minde,

For feare you might want memory to forget

Some arts of which might haunt you yet,

But when I knew you were, and when I heard

You were at Woodstocke seene well sun'd and ayr'd,

That your contagion in you now was spent,

And you were just Lord Mordant as you went,

I then resolv'd to come, and did not doubt

To be in season, though the Bucke was out.

Windsor the place, the day was Holy-rood,

Saint George my muse, for be it understood,

For all Saint George more early in the yeare

Broke fast, and eate a bit, yet he din'd here,

And though in Aprill in red inke he shine,

Know't 'twas September made him red with wine.

To this good sport rode I, as being allow'd

To see the King, and cry him in the crowd,

And at all solemne meetings have the grace

To thrust, and to be trod on by my place.

Where when I come I see the Church beset

With tumults, as had all the bre [...]n met

To heare some silenc'd teacher in that quarter,

In veigh against the Order of the Garter;

And justly might the weake be griev'd and wrung,

Because the Garter prayes in a strange tongue,

And doth retaine traditions yet of France,

In an old [Honi soit qui maly pense]

Whence learne (those Knights that order that have ra [...])

That all besides the buckle is prophane;

But there was no such doctrine now at stake,

No starv'd physitian from the pulpit spake,

[Page] And yet the Church was full, all sorts of men,

Religions, sexes, ages were there then,

Whilst he that keepes the Quire, togother locks

Papists and Puritanes, the Pope and Kn [...].

Which made some wise men feare that love our nation,

This mixture would be get a toleration;

Or that Religion should united be,

When they said Service, these the Letany.

But no such hast, this dayes devotion lies

Not in the hearts of men, but in their eyes;

They that doe see Saint George, heare him aright,

For he loves not to parley, but to fight.

Amongst this audience (my Lord) stood I

Well edified as any that stood by;

And knew how many leggs a Knight lets fall,

Betwixt the King, the offring, and his stall:

Aske me but of their robes, I shall relate

The colour and the fashion; and the state:

I saw too the procession without doore,

What the poo [...]e Knights and what the Prebends wore:

All this my neighbours that were by me tooke,

Who div'd but in the garment, and the looke,

But I saw more, and though I have their fate

In place and favour, yet I want their pate:

Me thought I then did these first ages know,

Which brought forth Knights so arm'd, and looking so,

Who would maintaine their oath and bind their word

With these two seales, an Altar and a Sword.

Then saw I George new Sainted, when such Priests

Wore him not onely on, but in their breasts.

Oft did I wish that day, with open vow,

O that my Country were in danger no [...]:

[Page] And 'twas no treason, who could feare to die

When he was sure his rescue was so nigh?

And here I might a just digression make,

Whilst of some particular Knights I spake,

To whom I owe my thankes, but 'twere not best

By praysing two or three t'accuse the rest,

Nor can I sing that order or those men,

That are above the mysterie of my pen;

And private fingers may not touch those things

Whose authors Princes are, whose partners Kings

Wherefore imburnt I will refraine that fire,

Lest hearing such a Theame I should aspire [...]

T'include my King and Prince, and so rehearse

Names fitter for my Prayer then my Verse;

He that will speake of Princes let him use

More grace then wit, know God's above his Muse.

No more of counsell harke the Trumpets sound,

And the grave Organs with the Antheme drown'd,

The Church had said Amen to all their rites,

And now the Trojan horse lets loose her Knights,

The triumph moves: O what could added be

Save your successe to that solemnity;

Which I expect and doubt not but to see't,

When the Kings favour and your worth shall meet,

I thinke the robes will now be come you so,

Saint George himselfe would not his owne Knights know,

From the Lord Mordant: Pardon me that preach

A doctrine onely that King James can teach;

To whom I leave you who alone hath right

To make Knights Lords; and you a Lord a Knight.

Imagine now the Scene lies in the hall,

(For at high noone we are [...]sants all)

[Page] The Church is emptie as the bellies were,

Of the spectators that had languish there;

And now the favorites of the Clearke o'th' checke,

Who oft had yawnd and stretcht our many a necke

Twixt morne and evening, the dull seeders on

Fresh patience, and rays [...]s of the Sun,

They who liv'd in the Hall five houres at least,

As if 'twere an arraignment, not a feast,

And looke so like the hangings they stand neere,

None could discerne which the true pictures were;

These now shall be refresht, whiles the bold [...]rum

Strikes up his srolick through the Hall they come.

Here might I end, my Lord, and here subscribe

Your honours to his power: but O what bribe,

What feare, or mulct can make my muse refraine

When she is ing'd of nature or disdaine?

Not all the guard shall hold me, I must write

Though they both sweare, and lie, how they would fight

If I proceed: my though their Captaine say

Hold him, or else you shall not ca [...]e to day;

These goodly yeomen must not seape my pen,

'Twas dinner time, and I must speake of men;

So to the Hall made I, with little care

To praise the dishes, or to tast the fare;

Much lesse t'endanger the least Tart, or Pye

By any water there stolne, and set by,

But to compute the value of the meare,

Which was for glory, not for hunger eate;

Nor did I feare, stand backe: who passed before

The presence or the privy Chamber doore,

But woe is me, the Guard, those men of warre

But two weapons use, Beese, and the Barre

[Page] Began to gripe me, knowing not in truth

That I had sung John Dory in my youth,

Or that I knew the day when I could chaunt,

Chivie, and Arthur, or the Siege of Gaunt;

And though these be the vertu [...] which must try,

Who is most worthy of their courtesie,

They profited me nothing, for no notes

Will move them now, they're dense in their new coates;

Wherefore on run I, afresh they sall, and show

Themselves more active then before, as though

They had some wager laid, and did contend

Who should abuse me furthest at armes end;

One I remember with a grizled beard,

And better growne then any of the heard,

One were he well examin'd, and made looke

His name in his owne parish, and Church Booke,

Could hardly prove his Christendome, and yet

It seemes he had two names, for there were set

On a white Calves doublet which he wore,

Two Capitall Letters of a name, before;

Letters belike which he had spu'd, and spilt,

When the great Bumbard leak [...], or was at tilt:

This Iron side takes hold, and suddenly

Hurles me, by judgement of the standers by

Some twelve foot by the square, takes me againe

Out throwes it halfe a barre, and thus we twaine

At this hot exercise an houre had spent.

He the fierce agent, I the instrument,

My man began to rage, but I ery'd peace,

When he is dry or hungry he will cease,

Peace for the Lords sake Nicholas, lest they take us

And use us worse then Hercules did Ca [...]s.

[Page] And now I breath my Lord, now have I time

To tell the cause and to consess [...] the crime;

I was in blacke, a Scholler straight they guess'd,

Indeed I colourd for it at the least,

I spake them saire, desir'd to see the hall,

And gave them reasons for it, this was all;

By which I learne it is a maine offence,

So neere the Cleark [...]oth Check to utter sense.

Talke of your emblems masters, and relate

How AEsop hath it, and how Al [...]iate,

The Cocke, the pearle, the dunghill and the gem,

This passeth all that talke of sense to them.

Much more good service was committed yet,

Which I in such a tumu [...]t must forget,

But shall I smother that prodigious fit,

Which past in cleare invention, and pure wit [...]

As thus: a nimble knave, though somewhat far,

Strikes at my head, and fairely steales my hat;

Another breakes a jest, (well Windsor, well,

What will ensue there's none can tell.

When they spend wit, serve God) yet 'twas not much,

Although the Clamour and the applause were such,

As when Sir Archey, or Garret doth provoke them,

And with wide laughter, and a cheate loase choake them.

What was the jest d'ye aske? I dare repeat it,

And put it home before you shall entreate it,

He call'd me Bloxsord man, confesse I must

'Twas bitter; and it griev'd me in a thrust

That most ingratefull word Bloxford to heare

From him whose breath yet stunke of Oxford Beare;

But let it passe, for I have now pass'd through

Their halberds, (and worse weapons) their teeth too,

[Page] And of a worthy officer was invited

To dine; who all their rudenesse hath required,

Where we had mirth and meate, and a large boord

Furnisht with all the kitchin could affoord,

But to conclude, to wipe off from before ye

All this which is no better then a story;

Had this affiont beene done me by command

Of noble Fenton, had their captives hand

Directed them to this, I should beleeve

I had no cause to jest, but much to grieve;

Or had discerning Pembrooke seene this done

And thought it well bestowed, I would have run

Where no good man had dwelt, no learnd should flie,

Where no disease would keepe me company,

Where it should be preserment to endure

To teach a Schoole or else to serve a cure.

But as it stands, the persons and the cause

Considered well my manners and their Lawes,

'Tis no affliction to me, for even thus

Saint Paul hath sought with beasts at Eph [...]sus,

And I at Windsor; let this comfort then

Rest with all able and deserving men;

He that will please the guard and not provoke

Court wits, must sell his learning, buy a cloake;

For at all seasts, and maskes the doome hath been,

A man thrust sorth, and a gay cloake let in.

To the Duke of Buckingham.

I'Ve read of Ilands floating and remov'd

In Ovids time, but never saw it prov'd,

[Page] Till now; that fable by the Prince and you,

(By your transporting England) is made true.

We are not whore we were, the dog-Star reignes

No cooler in our climate, then in Spaines;

The selfesame breath, same age, same heate, same burning

Is here, and there, 'twill be till your returning;

Come ere the Cards be altred, else perhaps

Your stay may make an errour in our mappes,

Lest England will be sound when you shall passe,

A thousand times more Southward then it was;

O that you were (my Lord) O that you were

Now in Black-Friers, or had a disguis'd eare,

Or you were Smith againe two houres to be

In Pauls next Sunday, at sull Sea at three;

There you should heare the Legends of each day,

The perills of your Inne, and of your way

Your enterprizes, accidents untill

You should arrive at Court and reach Madrill.

There should you heare how the States grandees [...]out you,

With their twice diligence about you,

How one inviron'd Prince walkes with a guard,

Of Spanish spies, and his owne servants barr'd;

How not a Chaplaine of his owne may stay

When he would heare a Sermon preacht, or pray.

You would be hungry having din'd to heare

The price of victuall, and the scarcity there,

As if the Prince had ventured there his life

To make a samine, not to setch a wise.

Your Egges (which must be addle too) are deare

As English Capons, Capons as sheepe here.

No grasse for horse or cattle, for they say

It is not cut and made, grasse there growes hay,

[Page] Then 'tis so seething hor, they sweare

You never heard of raw Oyster there;

Your cold meate comes in reeking, there your wint

Is all burnt Sacke, the fire was in the vine;

Item the Pullers are distinguisht there

Into soure quarters, as we branch the yeare,

And are a weeke a wasting; Munday noone

A wing, at supper something with a spoone;

Tuesday a leg, and so forth, Sunday more,

The Liver and the gizzards betwixt foure;

As for the mutton, in the best house holder,

'Tis selony to cheapen a whole shoulder:

Lord how our stomacks come to us againe,

When we conceive what snatching is in Spaine?

I whilst I write and doe your newes repeate,

Am forc'r to call for breakefast in and eate;

And doe you wonder at this dearth the while

The flood that makes it runs ith' middle Ile,

Poets of Pauls, these of Duke Hum [...] messe,

That feed on naught but graves and emptinesse.

But hearke you noble Sir, in one crosse weeke,

My Lord hath lost 4000. l. at Gleeke,

And sith they doe allow you little meate,

They are content your losses should be great;

False on my Deanery, [...]alser then your sare is

Or then the difference with the Grand d'Olivaries,

Which was reported strongly for one tide,

But after six houres flowing eb'd and dy'd.

If God would not this great designe should be,

Perfect and round without some knavery,

Nor that our Prince should end this enterprize,

But for so many tales, so many lies.

[Page] [...] for a good intent the heavens may please,

[...]ens tongues should become rougher then the [...]as,

[...]nd that th'expence of paper should be such,

[...]irst written, then translated out of Dutch,

[...]urrants, diaries, packets, newes, more newes

Which innocent whitenesse constan [...]ly abuse

[...] first the Belgick pismire must be seene,

Before the Spanish Lady be our Queene,

With that successe and such an end at last,

All's welcome, pleasant, gratefull that is past,

And such an end I pray that you may see

A type of that which mother Zebedee

Wisht for her Sonnes in heaven, the Prince and you

At either hand of James, you need not sue,

Him on the right, you on the lest, the King

Safe in the middest you both invironing,

Then shall I tell my Lord his words and band

Are forfeit till I kisse the Prince his hand,

Then shall I tell the Duke our royall friend,

How all your other honours, this hath earn'd,

This you have w [...]ought for, this you hammerd out,

Like a strong Smith, good workman, and a stout;

In this I have a part, in this I see

Some new addition smiling upon me;

Who in an humble manner crave my share

In all your greatnesse whatso'ere they are.

R. Corbet.

Upon the death of the Lady Haddington dying of the Small Pox.

DEare losse! to tell the world I griey'd, were true,

But that were to bewayle my selfe, not you.

[Page] That were to cry out helpe for my affaires,

For which nor publike thoughts nor private cares;

For when thy sate I publish among men

I should have power to write with the States pen.

I should by naming thee force publique teares,

And bid their eyes pay ransome for their eares.

First, thy whole life was a short feast of wit,

And death the attendant which did wait on it;

To both mankind doth owe devotion ample,

To that their first, to this their last example.

And though 'twere fame enough with thee, where same

And vertue [...] nothing but an ample name,

That thou wert highly borne, which no man doubts,

And so might swathe base deeds in noble clouts,

Yet thou thy selfe in titles didst nor shroud,

And being noble wast not soule, nor proud;

And when thy fruit was ripe, when all the suite

Of all the longing Courtiers for thy fruit,

How wisely didst thou choose soure blessed eyes,

The Kings and thine had taught thee to be wise.

Did not the best of men the Virgin give

Into his hands by whom himselfe did live,

Nor did they two yeares after talke of force,

Or Lady-like, make suite for a divorse;

Who when their owne vile lust is fully spent

Cry out my Lord, my Lord is impotent;

Nor hast thou in his Nuptiall armes injoyd

Barren embraces, but sweet girld and boyd;

Twice pretty ones, twice worthy were their youth

Migh [...]t thou but bring them up that broughtst them fo [...]

She would have taught them by a thousand straines

Her blood runs in their manners, not their veines,

[Page] That glory is a lie, slate a grave sport,

And country sicknesse above breath at Court,

Oh what a want of her losse gallants have,

Since she hath changed her window for a grave;

From whence she wont to datt her wit so fast,

And sticke them in their Coaches as they past,

Who now shall make well coloured vice looke pale

And a [...]rld m [...]eor with her eyes exhale

And talke him into nothing, who shall dare

Tell barren braine they live in fertile ayre?

Who now shall keepe old Countesses in awe,

And by [...]att similies repentance draw

From those whom P [...]achers had given or [...] some such

Whom S [...]mons could not reach her arrowes touch,

Hereafter fooles shall prosper with applause,

And wise men smild, and no man aske the cause,

He of so [...] score, three night caps, and two ha [...]ds;

Shall marry her of twenty and get lieir [...]s,

Which shall be thought his owne, and none shall say,

But 'tis a wondrous blessing; and he may.

[...]or whichis more then pitty, many a knight

Who can doe more then quarrell, lesse then fight;

Shall choose his weapons, ground, draw seconds thither;

Put up his sword, and not be laught at neither;

O thou deformed unwoman-like disgrace,

Thou plowst up flesh and blood, and there fo [...]st peace

And leaves such print on beauty if thou come,

As cloured shooes doe on [...] [...]oore of loome,

Thou that of faces huny [...]bes lost [...]ke,

And of two breast [...] forsake

Thy deadly trade, thou art now rich give ore,

[Page] Or if thou needst wilt magnifie thy power,

Goe where thou art invoked every houre;

Amongst the gamesters where they call thee thick

At the last maine, of the last pockie nick,

Get thee a lodging where thy clients dice,

There thou shall practise on more then one vice,

There's where withall to entertain the pox,

Ther'es more then reason cousening for the Box,

Thou who hast such superfluous store of gaine,

Why stickst thou on whose ruine is thy shame?

O thou hast murdered where thou shouldst have kist,

And where thy [...]hast was needfull there thou mist;

Thou shouldst have chosen out some homely face,

Where thy ill favoured kindnesse might adde grace,

That men might say, How bea [...]ous once was she,

Or what a peece ere she was sea [...] by thee!

Thou shouldst have wrought upon some Ladies mould

That nere did love her Lord, nor never could,

Untill she were deform'd, this crueltie

Were then within the rule of charitie:

But upon one whose beautie was above

All sort of beautie, whose love was more then love;

On her to fix thy ugly counterfeit,

Was to erect a Pyramis of Jea [...],

And put out fire to dig a curse from hell,

And place it where a blessed soule should dwell;

A soule which in the body would not stay,

When 'twas no more a body nor good clay,

But a high ulcer O thou heavenly race,

Thou soule which [...] [...]tion of thy case,

Thy house, thy prison Soule, [...], faire

Rest where no health, no cold no [...] compounds are,

[Page] Rest in that Country, and enjoy that case

Which thy fraile flesh divides and thy disease.

R. Corbet.

A proper new Ballad, intituled The Fairies farewel, or God a mercy Will, to be sung or whistled, to the tune of the Medow Brow by the learned, by the unlearned to the tune of Fortune.

FArewell rewards and Fairies

Good housewives now may say,

For now sowle sluts in Dairies

Do fare as well as they;

And though they sweepe their hearths no lesse

Then maides were wont to doe,

Yet who of late for cleanlinesse,

Findes Six pence in her shooe?

Lament, lament old Abbies

The Fairies lost command,

They did but change Priests babies,

But some have chang'd your land

And all your children stolne from thence

Are now growne puritanes,

Who live as changelings ever since

For love of your demaines.

At morning and at evening both,

You merry were and glad;

[Page] So little care of sleepe and sloath,

These pretty Ladies had,

When Tom came home from labour,

—Or Cisse to milking Rose;

Then merrily went their Tabor

And nimbly went their Toes.

Witnesse those rings and rounde layes

Of theirs which yet remaine,

Were sooted in Queene Maries dayes

On many a grassy plaine.

But since of late Elizabeth

And later James came in,

They never daunc'd on any heath

As when the time had beene.

By which we nore the Fairies

Were of the old profession,

Their Songs were Ave Maries,

Their daunces were procession;

But now alas they all are dead

Or gone beyond the Seas,

Or further from Religion fled

Or else they take their case.

A tell-tale in their company

They never could endtire,

And who so kept not secretly

Their mirth was punisht sure,

It was a just and Christian deed

To pinch such black and blew,

[Page] O how the Common-wealth doth need

Such Iustices as you!

Now they have left our Quarters,

A Register they have,

Who can preserve their Charters;

A Man both wise and grave.

A hundred of their merry pranks

By one [...]hat I could name,

Are kept in store; con twenty thank,

To William for the same.

To William Churne of Staffordshire,

Give laud and praises due;

Who every meale can mend your cheere,

With Tales both old and true.

To William all give audience,

And pray you for his Noddle;

For all the Fairies evidence,

Were lost if it were addle.

To the Ghost of Rob. Wisdome.

THou once a Body, now but ayre,

Arch-botcher of a Psalme or Prayer;

From Carfaux come:

And pa [...]h us up a zealous Lay,

With an old Aver and for aye,

Or all and some.

[Page] Or such a Spirit lend me,

As may a Hymn down send me,

To purge my brain.

So Robert look behinde thee,

Lest Turk or Pope doe finde thee;

And goe to bed again.

An Epitaph on Tho. Jonce.

HEre for the nonce

Came Thomas Jonce,

In St. Jileses Church to lye.

None Welch before,

None Welshman more,

Till Shon Clerk dye.

Ile role the Bell,

Ile ring his Knell;

He dyed well,

He's saved from Hell:

And so farewell

Tom Jonce.

[Page]

On the Earl of Dorsets Death.

LEt no prophane ignoble soot tread here,

This hallowed piece of Earth, Dorset lyes there:

A small poor Relique of a Noble spirit,

Free as the Alre, and ample as his Merit:

A soul refin'd, no proud forgetting Lord,

But mindfull of mean names, and of his word:

Who lov'd men for his Honour, not his ends,

And had the noblest way of getting friends

By loving first, and yet who knew the Court,

But understood it better by report

Then practise: He nothing took from thence

But the Kings favour for his recompence.

Who for Religion, or his Countreys good,

Neither his Honour valued, nor his blood.

Rich in the worlds opinion, and mens praise,

And full in all we could desire, but dayes.

He that is warn'd of this, and shall for beare

To vent a sigh for him, or shed a teare,

May he live long scorn'd, and unpitied fall,

And want a Mourner at his Funerall.

R. Corbet.

On Henry Bolings.

IF gentlenesse could tame the Fates, or wi [...]

Deliver man, Bolings had not dyed yet:

But one which over us in judgement sits,

Doth say our sins are stronger then our wi [...].

R. Corbet.

[Page]

The Authors Answer.

SO to de [...]d Hector boyes may doe disgrace,

That durst not look upon his living face.

So worst of men behinde their betters back

May stretch mens names and credit on the rack.

Good friend, our generall tye to him that's gone,

Should love the man that yearly doth him mone:

The Authors zeale and place he now doth hold,

His love and duty makes him be thus bold

To offer this poor mite, his Anniverse

Unto his good great Masters scared Herse:

The which he doth with priviledge of name,

Whilst others 'midst their Ale in Corners blame.

A penny-worth in Print they never made,

Yet think themselves as good as Pond or Dade,

One Anniverse; when thou hast done thus twice,

Thy words among the best will be of Price.

Dr. Price.

A Reply.

NOr is it griev'd (grave Youth) the memorie

Of such a Story, such a Book as he,

That such a Copy through the world were read,

Henry yet lives, though he be buryed

I could be wisht that every day could beare

Him our good witnesse that he still were here;

[Page] That sorrow r [...]l'd the yeare; and by that sun

(Such Man) could tell you how the day had run.

O'twere an honest cause for him, could say,

I have been busie, and wept out the day

Remembring him; an Epitaph would last,

Were such a Trophee, such a Banner plac't

Upon his Herse as this, Here a man lyes

Was slain by Henry's date, not Destinies.

But for a Cobler to throw up his Cap,

And cry, The Prince, the Prince: O dire mishap!

Or a [...]-Bridegroom after grace

To throw his Spouse i'th fire, or scratch her face:

To the tune o'th' Lamentation, and delay

His Friday Capon till the Sabbath-day:

Or an old Popish Lady half vow'd dead,

To fast away the day with Ginger-bread:

For him to write such Annalls: All these things

Doe open laughter, and shut up griefs springs.

Wherefore Vertumm [...], if you Print the next,

Bring better votes, or choose a meaner Text.

R. Corbet.

FINIS.

Information about this book

Title statement

Certain elegant poems, written by Dr. Corbet, Bishop of Norvvich

Corbet, Richard, 1582-1635.

Edition statement

1647

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2003-01 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A34548

ID [STC]

Wing C6270

ID [STC]

ESTC R210115

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

99895575

ID [PROQUEST]

99895575

ID [VID]

54539

Availability

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.

Series

Early English books online.

Notes

(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A34548)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 54539)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 89:1; 2350:11)

Source

— Certain elegant poems, written by Dr. Corbet, Bishop of Norvvich, Corbet, Richard, 1582-1635..

Extent

[6], 53, [3], 55-85, [1] p.

printed by R. Cotes for Andrew Crooke at the Green Dragon in Pauls Church-yard,. London :: 1647.. (In verse.) (A reissue of Wing C6269C, with added quires F (signed A) and G.) (Reproduction of original in: British Library; Henry E. Huntington Library.)

Creation

Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford.

Editorial practices

EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO.

EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org).

The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source.

Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data.

Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so.

Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor.

The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines.

Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements).

Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site.