EPIGRAMS OF ALL SORTS, Made at DIVERS TIMES On SEVERAL OCCASIONS.
By Richard Flecknoe.
A nostris procul est omnis vesica libellis.
Mart.
LONDON: Printed for the Author, and Will. Crook, at the Green-dragon without Temple-bar. 1670.
THE Epistle Dedicatory, To all his NOBLE FRIENDS.
THere is none Prints more, nor publishes less than I; for I Print onely for my self and private Friends (and had I not thought these more passible than the rest, I had never made them so publick as I do.)
I write chiefly to avoid Idleness, and print to avoid the Imputation: and as others do it to live after they are dead; I do it onely not to be thought dead whilst I am a live: (for as the concealing what one does, little differs from Idleness, so the being Idle, [Page] little differs from being dead.)
Epigram in general, is a quick and short kinde of Writing, rather a slight, than any great force of the Spirit; and therefore the more fit for me, who [...] not to take pains in any thing, and rather affect a little negligence, than too great curiosity (which I desire may serve for excuse of my negligence in some of these.)
Epigrams at their first institution served onely for Inscriptions of Ports, and Entries of Temples, and publick places, and consisted onely in a Distick, or line or two; till at length, by degrees, they became so much enlarg'd, both for matter and quaintity, as there was nothing that was not matter of Epigram, and no length it woud not admit of, so it kept but close unto the matter, with that l [...]se and quickness which was Requisite and essential to it; and especially a [...]oided long discourses, which is [...] improper for it, as a long Robe for one who is to run a Race.
[Page] For these here, they are chiefly in praise of worthy persons, of which none had ever a more plentiful subject than I, having been always conversant with the best and worthiest in all places where I came; and amongst the rest with Ladies, in whose conversation, as in an Academy of Vertue, I learnt nothing but Goodness, saw nothing but nobleness; and one might as well be drunk in a Christial Fountain, as have any evil thoughts whilst they were in their Company. Which I shall gladly always remember, as the happiest and innocentest part of all my life; and that they are mixt with the dispraise of others, 'tis onely as sawce unto the rest, which shud always have somewhat of sharp piquant in it.
I was long deliberating before I publisht them, whether I shud range them in order, or let them pass promisculously, till at last (to save the Heralds labour) I resolv'd on this latter way, onely I have separated [Page] the more Light and Theatical ones, and the more Grave and Pious ones from the rest, as being particularly subjects of themselves.
Of which Pious ones, this I will onely say, that Piety and Devtion, Consisting chiefly in moving the Affection, Verse seems the fittest language for it, and of all Verse, that of Epigrams: it being a short Jaculatory, kinde of writing, and therefore the aptest to penetrate the brest, it is that which strews the way of Vertue and Piety with Roses insteed of Thorns: and one reason why no more are delighted with it, is because it is no more delightfully perswaded; and then it was when Verse was wholly imployed in Devotion, that Poetry was called the Language of the Gods, your Poets, Prophets, and such as Moses and David were Poets: nor will it ever be well with the World, till things return to their first institution, and Poets take as much pains to render Piety and Vertue delightful, [Page] as now they do Vice and Impiety. Whatsoever they are, they are yours, for I have made them for you, and to dedicate them to any one in particular, were to do injury to the rest, take them amongst you then, for 'tis but just, that I should Dedicate all I have to you, to whom I have dedicated my self.
R. F.
Emendatioms
Recomended to the Reader.
TO distinguish my faults from the Printers, first the Reader may please to amend these few faults escaped in the printing, and pardon the rest. Page 11. Line 8. read your for the. P. 14. l. 10. r. then for as, and l. 14. 45 for 55. P. 33. l. ult. r. makes them seem less great. P. 38. l. 13. r. fruit for first. P. 86. l. 2. r. 54 for 34. P. 87. l. 2. r. ordering for making.
For mine own faults p. 9. read the first Stanzza thus:
CYrus a mighty Conqueror was,
And great Example of other Princes:
But you his Conquests far surpass,
Who win more hearts than he Provinces.
You will finde many other rubs besides, to hinder the Verses running smooth, which none but a Friend can excuse; aud I shud be sorry they shud light into any other hands.
EPIGRAMS Of all sorts, Made at divers times, On several occasions.
Of EPIGRMS in general.
WHat Airs in point of Musick are, the same,
In point of writing is your Epigram,
Short, quick and sprightly; and both these and those
When th' Ear expects it, comes unto a close.
'Tis but few lines, but those like Gold well try'd
Out of the dross of many lines beside;
And says not much, but all it says is good,
And plain and easie to be understood.
[Page 2] In every kinde, be th' Writing what it will,
'Tis that most takes, and most delights you still;
And does to th' rest, no less Adornment bring
Then does the Stone or Iewel to the Ring.
Poets can't write, nor Orators declame,
But all their wit is chiefly Epigram:
And both in Verse and Prose, and every thing
Your Epigram is writing for a King.
Of the difficulty of making them now-a-days.
NOr is't so easie making of them, as
It was of old, in our Fore-fathers days:
When even the very sound of words alone,
Or out-side of them us'd to pass for one.
And when they heard a Clench, or Quibble spoak,
They'd claw you for't, as if some Jest were broak.
But now th'ar grown more curious and nice,
And what was Vertue then, is counted Vice.
Clenches and Quibbles now are out of date,
Which they no less then Bilke and Nonsence hate:
And when they hear but any of them sed,
The Wits are ready strait to break your head.
So goes the World, nor must we think it strange
The Mode together with the Times shud change.
'Tis so, we see, in fashion of our Cloaths,
And why not of our Wits as well as those?
Of several sorts of Wits.
WIts like Hawks ar for the sport;
Some ar long-wing'd, some ar short:
The first do fly so high a flight,
They often soar quite out of sight.
The second far the fitter for you,
Keep them close unto the Quarry:
Nor too low, nor yet too high,
Of this latter sort am I.
To the Duke of MONMOUTH, On his going into France, Anno 68.
WE to the French as much in Court did yeild,
As they to us did formerly i'th' Field,
Till Monmouth went, and overcame them more
I'th' Court than ere we did i'th' Field before.
How fatal to the French is Monmouths name!
They shud be twice thus Conquer'd by the same:
By Valour first in War, and now no less
A second Time, by Gallantry in Peace!
To the Dutchess of MONMOUTH.
Madam,
YOu being all Admirable as you are,
No wonder yet I never could declare,
[Page 4] But by an Aspiration or two,
The admiration which I had for you!
Nor is 't a thing I 've rane up of report,
But travelling your whole Sex over for't,
I must conclude, where ever I have been,
You are the worthiest yet I 've ever seen:
Else 'twere my Ignorance, not your praise, had I
Not first of all made full discovery:
" For who know nothing, admire all they view;
Who all things know, nothing admire but you.
Nor can there any so injurious be
Unto your worth, to think this Flattery:
" 'Tis flattry to praise vice, but when we praise
" Vertue, 'tis obligation each one has;
And they shud rather be thought envious, who
Don't praise you for't, then flatterers who do.
To a certain Great Lady, Who commanded him to wait on her; And when he came, he was made to wait for her.
Madam,
YOu did command that I shud wait on you,
And that there's none more willingly shud do:
But to wait for you in your outward Rooms,
Among your Tradesmen, Servingmen & Grooms.
[Page 3] That is a thing I never yet could do,
Nor ever was accustomed unto.
Bid me to go, I 'll run; to run, I 'll flee;
But stand and wait's impossible for me.
All that is possible to be done, I 'll do;
I can wait on you, but can't wait for you.
On the death of the Duke of GLOCESTER.
HIgh-born and Great, as any Prince on earth,
With Minde more Great and High then was his Birth:
Wise 'bove his years, Valiant above a man,
Whence you perceive how early he began;
Whose life was onely an Epitome,
Where you in brief all gallantry might see;
And active fire, like lightning did appear,
That even is gone ere you can say 'tis here.
One who had all those brave and noble parts,
Which most gain love, & most do conquer hearts:
Whence no Prince yet had ever more that griev'd
When he was dead, or lov'd him when he liv'd.
Who's now so dull, when this they hear but sed,
That does not know the Duke of Glocester's dead?
The gallantst person Nature ever made,
And hopefulst Prince as ever England had.
Let all admire this world now, learn by this,
What all their worldly hopes and Greatness is.
On the death of the Lady Jean Cheynée.
THe softest Temper, and the mildest Breast
Most apt to pardon, needing pardon least;
Whose blush was all her Reprehension,
Whilst none ere heard her chide, nor saw her frown:
All sweetness, gentleness, and dovlike all,
Without least anger, bitterness or gall;
Who scarce had any passion of her own,
But was for others all compassion:
A Saint she liv'd, and like a Saint she dy'd,
And now is gone where onely Saints abide.
What will she be when she's with Angels, when
She even was one whilst here she was with men?
What will she be in heaven when she comes there,
Whose life and manners were so heavenly here?
Make much of her you Saints, for God knows when
Your Quires will ever have her like agen.
The Pourtract.
SUch a Stature as they call
Nor too Low, nor yet too Tall;
With each part from head to foot
Justly answerable to 't:
Adds to all the rest a Grace;
In whose Circle does appear
Thousand Cupids sporting there.
Hair so black, and Skin so white,
Never was a fairer sight.
And her fairer yet to make,
Eyes and Eye-brows too as black.
Forehead smoother then the Glass
In the which she sees her Face.
Cheeks, where naturally grows
The Lillies and the blushing Rose.
Nose 'bove all so gently rises,
Nothing more the sight surprizes.
Lipps, all other Lipps excelling,
Th' ar so ruddy and so swelling.
Mouth and pretty dimpled Chin,
With such pearly Teeth within,
No Indian Shell did ere inclose
More Oriental ones than those.
Voyce that charms you 'tis so sweet,
Made more charming by her Wit:
And you'd think in every smile
All the Graces dwelt the while.
If any'd know who this may be,
Name but Bellasis, it is she.
STANCES Envoyez par le Sieur de Scudery A l' Altezze de Madame la Duchess de Lorrein Avec son Grand Cyrus.
§.
CYrus passa tous les vainqueurs
Ilfut l' Example des Grands Princes;
Mais vous surmontez plus des Coeurs
Qu'il ne surmonta des provinces.
§.
O mervileuse nouveauté
O rare pouvoir de vos Charmes
De faire plus par la Beauté
Qu'un Heros ne fit par ses Armes.
§.
Vous voyant vaincre en un moment
Le Brave qui vainquit l' Asie
Chacun a de l' estonement
Mandane a de la Ialousie.
§.
En fin le plus grand des Guerriers
Va mettre a vos pieds sa Couronne
Heureux si parmy ses Lauriers
Vous prennez son Coeur qu'il vous donne.
STANCES Sent to her Highness the Dutchess of Lorrein, By the Sieur de Scudery, Together with his Grand Cyrus.
§.
CYrus a mighty Conqueror was,
To whom for valour none but yeilds:
But yours, his Conquests far surpass,
Who win more hearts then he did fields.
§.
O strange to admiration!
O wondrous power of your Charms!
Your Beauty shud do more alon,
Then coud a Heroe by his Arms.
§.
To see you overcome so soon
Him, who all Asia overcame;
Gives wonder unto every one!
And jelousie unto Mandane.
§.
In fine, the best of Warriers layes
His Crown down at your feet, and shall
Count it his happiness, if with's bayes
You but accept his heart and all.
On her Death.
WHen this fair soul in mortal flesh did live,
It had some Angel been you would believe;
Thorough her bright Exterior there did shine
So much from her Interior of Divine.
And if her Vertuous Actions you had seen,
You would have thought she Vertu's self had been:
Which could it but be seen by mortal Eyes,
All hearts with admiration would surprize.
And now all that could dye of her is dead,
And that that's living unto Heaven is fled,
As when some Lamp untimely does expire,
The flame mounts up to th' Element of Fire.
This Epitaph in memory of her,
Let's onely write upon her Sepulcher.
She who alive all Vertue and Beauty was,
T' on in her Breast, and tother in her Face,
Now she is dead, just Reason w'ave to fear
All Vertue and Beauty too ar dead with her:
Whilst all the joy we had, or ere shall have,
Now she is dead, lyes buried in her Grave.
To her Noble Sister, Madamoiselle de BEAUVAIS, Now Princess of Aremberg.
ALl the Lay thoughts, Madam, I ever had
Of your fair Sex, ar now Religious made,
Admiring you, and I'm become by it,
Your Sexes Votary, and your Convertit.
For just unto the Chamber all do come
As to some Temple, and from thence go home;
The bad converted, and the good far more
Confirm'd in Goodness, then they were before:
Whilst with your sight, not onely you restrain
All vitious speech, but even all light and vain:
And none to utter there, permission has,
Or words of double sence, or doubtful phrase.
Yet Vertue that's in others so severe,
It from their conversation does deter,
In you is so attractive and so gay,
None from your presence ere went sad away.
But stay my Muse, for if thou forwards tend,
Thou mayst begin, but never make an end,
Of such as hers, whose praise is infinite,
The more you say, the less you say of it.
There is an Artful silence, as there was
An Artful vailing Great Atrides face:
[Page 12] 'Tis praise enough to say that she can ne'r
Be prais'd enough, and say no more of her.
Of VVelbeck, The Duke of Newcastles House, Where he entertain'd The last King so magnificently, Anno 33.
WElbeck, a Royal place where every thing
Seems made for entertainment of a King,
And every one confesses that he ne'er
Was entertain'd more royally then there.
Let others wonder at thy Lords expence,
And at the vastness of 's Magnificence.
He who would hazzard Fortune, Life and all,
To serve his Master when his General;
For me I ne'r shall wonder that he woud
Not spare his purse, who woud not spare his bloud.
To Sir WILLIAM DEWCY On his three entertainments of The King, the Prince of Denmarck, And the Prince of Tuscany, All the last Summer, Anno 69.
DEwcy that bravely know'st to spend
When 'tis for any noble End;
[Page 13] And never stickst at the Expence,
When 'tis to shew Magnificence.
For th' Royal entertainment, that
Th'ast given unto thy Prince of late▪
The honour onely is thine owne
But what's to other Princes done,
The honour thou to them dost do,
Is both thine own and Countries too;
In that th'art but a privat man,
In this a publick person, and
Thy Country shud ungrateful be,
Shud it not always honour thee,
Who knowst so bravely how to spend
When 'tis for any noble End;
And never stickst at the expence,
When 'tis to shew Magnificence.
On his House at Charlton nigh Greenwich. Where these entertainments were made.
WHilst Greenwich for its seat's commended so,
Thou shalt not Charlton uncommended go▪
Although thou wantst a Barklays pen to raise
Thee to the height of Fame which t' other has.
Did Thames but at thy feet its Tribute pay,
As 't does to theirs, thoudst be as fam'd as they.
But yet it needs not, for thou hast by Land,
As that by Water, full as great command;
[Page 14] And hast as many Naiades as they
Their Hyades have, who thy commands obey.
Thy Champions ar as pleasant and as green,
Thou seest as much, though not so much art seen;
And in thy safe retirement from the Shore,
Thy Fame's the less, but happiness the more.
In brief, thy Gardens, Orchards, and thy Fields
Yeild not to t'others Park, whilst Greenwich yeilds
As much, or more (although a Royal Seat)▪
To thee for height, as thou to it for Great.
On his Accession to the Poetical Academy in Italy, Anno 55. under the precedency of the Duke of Buckingham.
'TIs so indeed! here's a free Mart or Fayr,
I now perceive, of all Poetick Ware;
No Tax, Gabel, nor Imposition none
On any Merchandise, but every one
Brings what he please, and from the Lord o'th' place
Free pasport, and safe conduct for it has:
Mean time all store of rich Commodities
Ar here install'd, to take the curious Eyes.
Pictures o'th' minde, so drawn to th' life and like,
They put down Titian, Holbeen and Vandike.
[Page 15] Damasks and Tissu's of Pernassus work
Surpass the Chinean, Persian, and the Turk.
T'ons richer vein, and sparkling Wit contends
With Gold and Iewels, either India sends;
T'other for soft and silken Phrase puts down
The smoothest Sattin and the softest doun.
Onely as I have heard objected, there's
Amongst the rest great want of some small wares;
Things which your simple people so admire,
They scarce without them think a Fayr entire:
And for such Bagatels that none may lack,
I'am come to fit them with my Pedlers-pack.
To Sir K. D. made Anno 45.
WHilst with thy mighty Wit I but compare
Our petty ones, methinks they Pigmies are;
And thine the Hercules, with whose vast discourse
Whilst we'd be medling fain, but want the force,
Thy Wit comes to't, and presently with ease
Takes't up as light, and weylds it as thou please.
Oh how I've sometimes long'd, when I have been
Where I some insolent prating Sir have seen,
With Tyrant talk a wing the Company,
Whilst none must speak, & none be heard but he;
T'ave some such Tyrant-Conquerer as thou
Enter the room, but onely to see how
[Page 16] My mighty Talker presently woud sneak
At sight of thee, nor dare to look nor speak.
So have I seen some chattering Pye or Iay,
Fright with their noise the lesser Fowl away;
Until by chance some Eagle comes in sight,
When strait themselves are husht & put to flight.
To the Lady Gerard of Brunley, of the Education of my Lord her Son.
IF Education second Nature be,
(Madam) you doubly oblige Posterity,
By giving (as you do) my Lord your Son,
Such brave and noble Education,
As gives him double Title to the Fame
Of noble Gerard, and brave Digbies name:
Which you bestow, and he receives so well;
Which merits greater praise, there's none can tell:
But all agree, there's none can better do,
A Sons than he, a Mothers part than you.
EPITAPH In memory of that ever-memorable Lady Anne Packington Lady Audley.
STay Reader, and if ever thou wo'dst hear
A story worthy thy intentive ear,
Know here lyes buryed in this Sepulcher
One who had all those excellent qualities
Of noble, vertuous, beautiful, and wise,
A mortal creature, cou'd immortalize.
Who after all degrees of Mother, Wife
And Maid sh'ad past, and left them all at strife,
Which state she most had honour'd in her life;
At last (a weary of this life below)
She dy'd, and unto highest heaven did go,
To honour there the State of Angels too.
To the Lord Henry Howard of Norfolk, Returning from his Asiatick voyage.
My Lord,
AS Merchants trade for other Riches, so
You trade for Honour, wheresoe'er you go;
And richly fraughted with it, always make
A noble and brave return at coming back.
What store then must the Howards have of't? who
Have such brave Factors for't abroad, as you?
And are so honoured for't at home, as they,
Without offence of any, well may say,
As God first made the Light, then made the Sun
A great Reserve (as 'twere) for't, when h'ad don:
So Kings make Honour, and the Howards are
The great Reserves of't, you still finde it there.
To his Highness, COSMO Prince of Tuscany On his Travels.
COsmo a name that's all Cosmography,
And Cart or Map wher all the world you see
Seeing what you do, and being what you ar,
You are the onely great Cosmographer.
And if others like rowling Balls of Snow,
Travelling about the world still greater grow:
How great must you be, who were great before;
And now by travelling still grow more & more?
To the same, On his coming into England.
COsmo whose thirst of seeing the world's so great,
Shud the Creator more new worlds creat;
Till there were Globes enow for every Ball
I'th' Mediceian Arms, you'd see them all.
Amongst the rest at last y'ar come to see
This other world of ours, Great Brittany;
And Princes like your self where ere they come,
This priviledge have, th'ar every where at home.
Others are Citizens of the world, but you
Not onely Citizen, but Prince of't too;
[Page 19] Neerly by Birth and Parentage ally'd,
To most o'th' Princes of the world beside.
To the Lady M. N. Or the fair Daughter of as fair a Mother.
WHat you'll be in Time we know
By the Stock on which you grow,
As by Roses we may see
What in time the Buds will be:
So in Flowers, and so in Trees,
So in every thing that is;
Like its like does still produce,
As 'tis Natures constant use;
Grow still then till you discover
All the Beauties of your Mother:
Nothing but fair and sweet can be
From so sweet and fair a Tree.
EPIGRAMS.
The second BOOK.
To his Royal Highness, The Duke of York, Returning from our Naval Victory, Anno 65.
MOre famous and more great then ere
Caesar or Alexander were!
Who hath both done and outdone too,
What those great Heroes coud not do.
Till Empire of the Seas we get,
No Victory can be compleat:
For Land and Sea makes but one Ball;
They had but half, thou hast it all.
Great Prince, the glory of our days,
And utmost bound of humane praise!
[Page 21] Increast in stile, we well may call
Thee now the whole worlds Admiral,
Whilst might Charles with Trident stands,
And like some God the Sea commands.
Having so gloriously o'ercome,
What now remains but to come home,
And fixed in our Brittish Spher,
Shine a bright Constellation ther?
More famous and more great than ere
Caesar or Alexander were.
To his Highness Prince Rupert, on the same.
GReat and Heroick Prince, surpassing far
Him who was stil'd the Thunder-bolt of War:
The Belgick Lyon stands amaz'd to see
A greater Lyon than it self in thee;
And Zealand on, all trembling for fear,
Half sinks into the Waves, and hides it there.
Ne'er since the Grecians cal'd the world their own,
Or Romans theirs, was greater valour known:
And if there yet new worlds to conquer were,
Brave Rupert were the fittest Conqueror.
Greatest Example of Heroick worth,
As ever yet this latter Age brought forth;
As formerly the Land of Brittain was,
So now the Sea's too narrow for thy praise,
[Page 22] And 'twill in time become the work alon
Of extasie and admiration!
Great and Heroick Prince, surpassing far!
Him, who was stil'd the Thunder-boult of War!
To Sir K. D. in Italy, Anno 46. Recommending to him a certain Memorial.
I Must beg of you, Sir, nay what is more,
('Tis a disease so infectious to be poor)
Must beg you'd beg for me; which whilst I do,
What is't but even to make you beggar too?
But poverty being as honourable now,
As 'twas when Cincinnatus held the plough;
Senators Sow'd and Reap'd, and who had been
In Car of triumph fetcht the Harvest in:
Whilst mightiest Peers do want, nay what is worse,
Even greatest Princes live on others purse;
And very Kings themselves are beggers made,
No shame for any Sir, to be o'th' Trade.
To Sir Peter Collaton, On the discovery and Plantation of Carolina in America.
BOrn for the Countries good, and adding to't
New Countries and Plantations to boot,
[Page 23] (Whilst others for themselves seem onely born
Like Rats and Mice, and but to eat up Corn:)
If others so much prais'd and honour'd are
For bringing home some forrain Countries ware;
Their praise compar'd to thine must needs be small,
Bringst home the ware, the Country too, and all.
On Mary Dutchess of Richmond.
WHether a cheerful air does rise
And eleuate her fairer Eyes;
Or a pensive heaviness
Her lovely Eye-lids does depress;
Still the same becoming Grace
Accompanies her Eyes and Face;
Still you'd think that habit best,
In which her countenance last was drest.
Poor Beauties! whom a look or glance,
Can sometimes make look fair by chance;
Or curious dress, or artful care
Can make seem fairer then they are:
Give me the Eyes, give me the Face,
To which no Art can add a Grace:
Give me the looks, no garb, nor dress
Can ever make more fair, or less.
On the Death Of Charles Lord Gerard of Bromley.
WHo alive so far had been,
He almost every land had seen;
And almost every thing did know
A man could in this World below:
At last his knowledge to improve,
Is gone unto the World above,
Where his knowledge is so much,
And his happiness is such,
'Twould envie, and not sorrow seem
In those too much shud grieve for him.
On George Duke of Albemarle.
IF others have their honours well deserv'd
Who nobly have their King & Country serv'd:
What Honour ever can be worthy you,
Who have not onely serv'd, but sav'd them too?
To a Lady Too curious of her Dress,
ANd why Clarissa so much pains and care,
To gain the reputation of fair!
[Page 25] When without all this care, and all this pain
You have already what you strive to gain?
Beauty and Truth need so small setting forth,
As all you add to't, take but from its worth;
And th' Sun and you, need far more art to hide
Your brighter beams, then make them more espy'd.
All other Arts in you woud shew as poor
As his shud go about to guild Gold o'er;
And you'd appear as vain in it, as they
Shud seek by Art to Blanch the Milkie-way.
You're fair enough Clarissa, leave to those
These petty arts, whose Beautie's onely Clothes;
And who need powdering, patching, painting too,
Or else they know their beauty'll hardly do.
So politicks when Lyons skin does fail,
Do use to pie [...]e it out with Foxes tail.
But when th'ave Lyons skin enough, 'tis poor
And beggerly to add a piece to't more.
To Mr. Edward Howard, Brother to the Duke of Norfolk.
IT is not Travel makes the man, 'tis true,
Unless a man could Travel Sir like you;
In putting off themselves, and putting on
The best of every Country where they come:
Purg'd of the dross, and stript of the abuse:
Whilst you pyed Traveller, who nothing knows
Of other Countries fashions, but their clothes;
And learns their Language but as Parrots do,
Onely perhaps a broken word or two;
Goes and returns the same he went agen,
By carrying still himself along with him.
On the Dutchess of Newcastles Closset.
WHat place is this? looks like some sacred Cell
Where ancient Hermits formerly did dwell!
And never ceast importunating Heaven,
Till some great blessing unto Earth was given?
Is this a Ladies Closset? 't cannot be,
For nothing here of vanity we see,
Nothing of curiosity, nor pride,
As most of Ladies Clossets have beside.
Scarcely a Glass, or Mirror in't you finde,
Excepting Books the Mirrors of the minde.
Nor is't a Library, but onely as she
Makes each place where she comes a Library.
Here she's in rapture, herein extasie,
With studying high, and deep Philosophy:
Here those cleer lights descend into her minde,
Which by reflection in her Books you finde:
Which but her self, no Ladies ever knew.
Whence she's the chiefest Ornament and Grace
O'th' times, and of her Sex. Hayle sacred place,
To which the world in after-times shall come
As unto Homers Shrine, or Virgils Tomb;
Honouring the Walls wherein she made aboad,
The air she breath'd, & ground whereon she trod.
So Fame rewards the Arts, and so agen
The Arts reward all those who honour them;
Whilst those in any other things do trust,
Shall after death lye in forgotten dust.
To Mrs. STUART.
STuart a Royal name that springs
From Race of Caledonian Kings;
Whose vertuous minde, and beautious fame
Adds honour to that Royal Name,
What praises can I worthy finde,
To celebrate thy form, and minde?
The greatest power that is on Earth,
Is given to Princes by their Birth,
But there's no power in Earth nor Heaven,
More great then what's to Beauty given,
That makes not onely men relent,
When unto rage and fury bent,
All fierceness from their breasts exil'd.
Such wonders yet coud ne'er be done
By Beauties force and power alone,
Without the power and force to boot
Of excellent goodness added to't.
For just as Jewels we behold,
More brightly shine when set in Gold:
So Beauty shines far brighter yet,
In vertue and in goodness set.
Continue then but what you ar,
So excellently good and fair;
Let Princes by their birthrights sway,
You'll have a power as great as they.
On her dancing in White-hall, All shining with Iewels.
SO Citharea in th' Olympick Hall,
And th'rest o'th' Stars dance their Celestial Ball,
As Stuart with the rest o'th' Nymphs does here,
The brightest Glories of the Brittish Sphear;
Who woud not think her heaven, to see her thus
All shine with Starry sewels as she does?
Or somewhat more then Heaven, to see her Eyes
Out shine the starry Jewels of the Skies?
[Page 29] Onely her splendor's so exceeding bright,
Th'excess confounds & blinds us with the sight;
Just as the Sun that's bright to that degree,
Nothing is more, nothing less seen then he.
Mean time the rapid motion of the Sphers
Is not so sweet and Ravishing as hers:
Nor is't the harmony makes her dance, but she
In dancing 'tis that makes the harmony.
Next to divinest Cynthia Queen of light,
Never was seen a Nymph so fair and bright!
Nor ever shall, 'mong all her starry train,
Though those in Heaven shud all come down again.
On her Marriage, With the Duke of Richmond.
THe fairest Nimph of all Diana's train,
For whom so many sigh'd, & sigh'd in vain.
She who so oft had others Captive made,
And who so oft o'er others triumpht had,
Is Venus Captive now her self, and led
In triumph to the noble Richmonds bed.
Nor is it strange to see about her fly
As many Cupids as are Stars i'th' sky,
As many Graces as are sands i'th' Sea,
Nor yet as many Venus's as they:
But to behold so many Vertues throng
About a Nymph so beautiful and young.
[Page 30] Is strange indeed, and clearly shews she had
Call'd all in counsel when the match was made;
And Venus Urania onely 'twas who came
Her self from Heaven to celebrate the same.
To LILLY, Drawing the Countess of Castlemains Picture.
STay daring man, and ne'r presume to draw
Her Picture, till thou mayst such colours get
As Zeuxis and Appelles never saw,
Nor ere were known by any Painter yet:
Till from all Beauties thou extracts the Grace,
And from the Sun the beams that guild the Skies,
Never presume to draw her beautious face,
Nor paint the radiant brightness of her Eyes.
In vain the whilst thou doest the labour take,
Since none can set her forth to her desert:
She who's above all Nature ere did make,
Much more's above all can be made by Art.
Yet bee'nt discouraged, since whoe'er do see't,
At least with admiration must confess,
It has an air so admirably sweet,
Much more then others, though then hers much less.
So those bold Gyants who would scale the Skie,
Although they in their high attempt did fall,
This comfort had, they mounted yet more high
Then those who never strove to clime at all.
Comfort thee then, and think it no disgrace
From that great height a little to decline,
Since all must grant the Reason of it was
Her too great Excellence, and no want of thine.
Somewhat to Mr. J. A. On his excellent Poem of Nothing.
OF Nothing, nothing's made, they say, but thou
By what th'ast made disprov'st that saying now,
And prov'st thy self maker of Poems right,
Coudst out of nothing bring such ones to light,
Which I, (as Creatures him who does creat)
Onely on Somewhat dully imitat:
Mean time at least, say all they can agin it,
I hope they needs must say there's somewhat in it:
Or granting it as good as nothing be,
The greater honour still, for it, and me.
To Mr. Henry Jermin, On their demanding why he had no higher Titles, &c.
STill noble, gallant, generous and brave,
What more of Titles woud these people have?
Or what can they imagine, more to express
How great thou art, that woud not make thee less?
He who is proud of other Titles, is
Proud of a thing that's Fortunes, none of his;
A thing that's but the Title-page o'th' Book,
On which your Fools and Children onely look:
Or garnishment of dishes, not to eat,
But empty nothings to set off the meat.
Thou enviest none their honours, but woudst be
Sorry they shud deserve them more than thee:
And 'twere in thee but vain ambition
To seek by other Titles to be known,
When Harry Iermins name alone, affords
As great and lowd a sound as any Lords.
Be still thy self then, and let others be
High as they will in place, what's that to thee?
Their worth is all without, but thine within,
And man 'tis fills the place, but worth fills him.
The Title of a worthy person's more
Then all the Titles which your Clowns adore;
[Page 33] And there's no Office we may greater call,
Then doing of good offices to all:
This is thy Office, these thy Titles are,
The rest take those that list, thou dost not care.
Of an unworthy Nobleman.
SEe you yond' thing, that looks as if he'd cry
I am a Lord, a mile ere he comes nigh?
And thinks to carry it, by being proud,
Or looking high and big, and talking loud.
But mark him well, you'll hardly finde enough,
In the whole man, to make a Laquey of;
And for his words, you'll scarcely pick from thence
So much of man, as comes to common sence.
Such things as he, have nothing else of worth,
But place and title for to set them forth.
Just like a Dwarf drest up in Gyants cloaths,
Bigger he'd seem, the lesser still he shows;
Or like small Statuas on huge Basis set,
Their highth's but onely makes them less great.
Of a Worthy Noble man: Or, William Duke of Newcastle.
BUt now behold a Nobleman indeed,
Such as w'admire in story when we read;
Who does not proudly look that you shud doff
Your hat, and make a reverence twelvescore of:
Nor takes exceptions, if at every word
You call him not his Grace, or else my Lord?
But does appear a hundred times more great
By his neglect of't, than by keeping state.
He knows Civility and Curtesie,
Are chiefest signes of true Nobility;
And that which gains them truest honourers,
Is their own Vertues, not their Ancesters.
By which through all degrees that he has past,
Of Vicount, Earl, Marquiss, and Duke at last,
H'as always gain'd the general esteem
Of honouring those, more than they honour'd him.
On the Lady Rockingham's Nursing her Children her self.
HOw like to Charity this Lady stands,
With one Child sucking, t'other in her hands:
[Page 35] Whilst bounteous Nature, Mother of us all,
Of her fair Breasts is not more Liberal!
Those Ladies but half-Mothers are at best,
Who give their Womb, whilst they deny their Breast;
And none deserve that name, but such as you,
Who bring their Children forth, & nurse them too.
Mirror of Mothers! in whom all may see
By what you are, what others ought to be,
Ready like Pelicans for their young ones good,
To give their very lives and vital bloud.
For so, if milk be bloud, but cloath'd in white,
You shew your self great Straffords daughter right
Equally ready both forth' publick good,
You for to give your milk, and he his bloud
To her Noble Sister, The Lady Arabella Wentworth.
TO your fair Sex, y'are best Example still,
Of following good, and of declining ill:
Who full as pure, and as umblemish go
In this foul Worlk, as Ermins on the Snow;
By never stirring foot upon the way,
Without first asking what will people say?
Teaching th' unwary, if they walk not clean,
The fault's not in the World so much as them:
[Page 36] By which besides, that rare receipt y'ave got,
To silence Rumour, and stop Slanders Throat.
Whence you, and your Illustrious Sister are
Each in their several kinds without compare;
You for a matchless Virgin, she a Wife;
The great examples of a vertuous life.
In one who slandred a fair and vertuous Lady.
THou enemy of all that's fair and bright,
As Fowls of darkness are unto the light.
Monster of Monsters! Basilisk of spight!
That killst with Tongue, as t'other does with sight.
Slanderer of Ladies, and of them the best,
Th'ast done an act, which all men must detest!
Beauty's a thing Divine, and he that woud
Wrong that, woud wrong Divinity if he coud:
Who takes my purse, does but as Robbers do;
Who takes my Fame, robs me, and kills me too:
And with his venumous Tongue, and poysonous breath,
Woud if he coud, even kill us after death.
But I mistake, it is no infamy,
To be calumniated by such as thee:
Thou rather praisest us against thy will,
Like him who cur'd by chance, whom he woud kill.
[Page 37] " For 'tis the same thing (rightly understood)
" To be disprais'd by th' bad, as prais'd by th' good.
To a Lady Too confident of her Innocence.
MAdam, that you are Innocent I know,
But th' world wants innocence to think you so;
That's all so vitious grown, it won't allow,
That any can be fair and vertuous now.
In Saturns days, perhaps it might fuffice,
When to be innocent, was to be wise:
But now without the Serpents wisdom too,
The Innocence of the Dove will hardly do:
Go get you some more powerful defence,
For Vertue then, besides your Innocence:
" For Innocence, but Vertue is unarm'd,
" The more you trust unto't, the more y'ar harm'd.
The Ladies name in Enigma.
HEr first name somewhat of Elizium ha [...],
Her second is in a more mistick phrase;
That colour which shews venerable age,
And does i'th' morning a fair day presage:
Unriddle now, and tell whose name this is,
O [...] forfeit a discretion if you miss.
To Mr. Bernard Howard, Brother to the Duke of Norfolk.
I Grant you Sir, I have a minde unfit
For my low fortune, much too high for it:
But sure you'll grant 'tis better have it so,
Than for high fortune, t'have a minde too low;
By that, a man is elevated to
An Angels height, attain'd by onely few:
By this the Noble Soul is even deprest
Unto the Vulgar, almost to the Beast.
I'm none of these same cringing things that stoops,
Just like a Tumbler when he vaults through hoops,
Or Daw or Magpy, when at first it pecks,
Alternately their tails above their becks.
I care not for high place, nor can I raise
My self unto [...]t by base unworthy ways;
And if wealth in as base unworthy lye,
For me, let low minds stoop for't, mine's too high.
Nor care I what the ignorant vulgar say,
For being not of their number, nor their way:
They do but talk, and can't in judgement sit,
Nor lyes it in their verge to judge of it.
I put my self upon the onely few,
That is, the best and worthiest, such as you.
Of a happy life.
WHo e'er woud live a happy life indeed,
And wholly be from care & trouble freed,
Must first stand well with God, & then with Man,
Must have as little buceness as he can;
Must care for nothing, that he cannot have,
And nothing others can deprive him of.
And above all must fly ambition,
To be to great Men, or to Princes known.
For who lives so, no Princes smile nor frown,
Can either raise him up, or cast him down;
And neither hopes to rise, nor fears to fall,
Does live the best and happiest life of all.
Of Clorinda's Excellence.
AS when the Sun appears, the Birds of night
Make haste away, and all are put to flight:
So when the bright Clorinda does appear,
All wanton Lovers fly the sight of her:
To whom, to talk of Love were high offence,
Who's so wrapt up in every Excellence,
As i'th' unfoulding of them one by one,
You never shud to onely Women come.
[Page 40] Love is for meaner Beauties, such as theirs,
In whom there nothing else but Sex appears:
But as for her, who ever dares aspire
Farther, then for to reverence and admire,
Ixions fate to such shud be allow'd,
Who steed of Iuno, but imbrac'd a cloud;
And thy in Justice, onely shud invent,
To punish them, Ixions punishment.
On the equal mixture of blood and water, After letting bloud of Madamoiselle de Beauvais.
Qust.OF this just mixture and equalitie,
Of water & blood, what shud the reason be?
Ans. The Reason's clear, forced to part with her,
Each drop of bloud for grief did shed a tear.
On Cicilannas blushing When the King beheld her.
SO Roses blush, when lookt on by the Sun,
As she, when by the King she's lookt upon;
And so of all fair things we nothing see,
More fair in Nature, than the Sun and She.
[Page 41] If things take name from their Original,
We well her blushes, Royal ones may call;
And if w'ave lost the Royal purple's stain,
It in her Cheeks may well be found again.
So, as 'tis signe the Sun is drawing near,
When fair Aurora blushing does appear:
To see her blushing when she sees him come,
You'd say she were Aurora, he the Sun.
In small-Beer.
NOw pox & plague to boot on this same small-
Beer, we may well the Divels Iulip call:
Distill'd from Lembeck of some Lapland witch,
With Northwinds- bellows blowing in her breech;
Or stale of some cold Hag o'th' Marshes, who
Than water never better Liquor knew:
A penitential drink for none by right,
But those i'th' morning, who were drunk o'er night:
Sure 'twas the poyson (as the Learned think)
They gave condemned Socrates to drink:
Or that, the Macedonian drank, so cold,
As nothing but an Asses houff coud hold.
They were deceiv'd, it was not Niobes moan,
But drinking small-Beer, turnd her unto stone.
And 'tis that infallibly which now has made
All Charity so cold, and th' World so bad.
[Page 42] If then Divines woud mend it, let them preach
'Gainst small-Beer onely, and no Doctrine teach;
But drinking wine, and then you soon shud see,
All in Religion easily woud agree.
This were a Doctrine worthy of their heat
And furious beating th' Pulpit till they swear.
In the Small-pox.
THou greatest enemy that Beauty has!
The very Goth and Vandal of a face;
On which thou mak'st as foul or fouler work,
Than does thy cousen Meezles upon Pork.
One of those Devils, which by power Divine,
Cast out of man once, went to th'heard of Swine,
And giving them the Pox, art come agen
To play the Devil, as thou didst with men?
To bid a Plague upon thee now, that curse
Thou anticipates already, for th'art worse,
Or great Pox on thee, we shud curse but ill,
For thou'rt more great, in being the small-Pox still.
But get thee gone, and soon too, or I know
A way I'm sure will quickly make thee go;
But send for Doctor—and you'll see
We with a vengeance shall be rid of thee.
To Mis Davies, On her excellent dancing.
Dear Mis,
WHo woud not think to see thee dance so light,
Thou wer't all air, or else all soul and spirit?
Or who'd not say, to see thee onely tred,
Thy feet were Feathers, others feet but lead?
Athlanta well coud run, and Hermes flee,
But none ere mov'd more gracefully than thee:
And Cicres charm'd with wand, & Magick Lore,
But none like thee ere charm'd with feet before.
Thou Miracle! whom all men must admire
To see thee move like air, and mount like fire!
Those who woud follow thee, or come but nigh
To thy perfection, must not dance, but fly.
The Patrons Lives, To the Lord of, &c.
MY Lord, if you'll attention give,
I'll tell you how the Patrons live:
First of all, they neither care,
Nor for Clock, nor Calender.
[Page 44] Next they ne'r desire to know,
How affairs o'th' world do go.
Above all they ne'r resort
To the busie Hall nor Court:
Where most men do nothing else
But trouble others, and themselves.
All the business they look after,
Onely is their sport and laughter,
With a friend, and cheerful cup,
Merily to dine and sup
Hear good Musick, see a Play;
Thus they pass the time away:
And if you like our living thus,
Come my Lord and live with us.
On a Hector, Beaten and draged away by the Constable.
STill to be drag'd! still to beaten thus!
Hector I fear thy name is ominous;
And thou for fighting didst but ill provide,
To take thy name thus from the beaten side:
To have Watchmen still like band of Mirmidons,
Beat thee with Halbards down, and break thy boans?
[Page 45] And every petty Constable thou meets,
Achillis-like to drag thee through the Streets?
Poor Hector! when th' art beaten blind and lame,
I hope thou'lt learn to take another name.
Of an Epicure.
AN Epicure is one of those,
No God besides his belly knows;
And that Religion best does think,
Where a he findes best meat and drink.
Who for his Palate and his Gust,
Has quite forgot all other Lust,
And hugs a bottle, as he woud
A Mris, when the Wine is good.
Who lays about him like a Gyant,
When he findes a morsel friand;
And so long has cram'd his gut,
He's nothing else from head to foot.
When you such an one do meet,
Or in Tavern, or in Street;
By his bulk you may be sure,
Such an one's an Epicure.
To Misa, made Anno 52.
NOw what a Divel Misa makes,
Thee with such eyes behold me still?
'Cause from thee Time thy good looks takes,
Must I therefore have thy ill?
I prethy Misa don't behold
Me thus, as if I were thy foe;
For howsoever thou art old,
I am not Time that made thee so.
So rather then to quarrel with me,
As if 'twere I had done thee wrong:
Go quarrel with thy age, I prithy,
Whose fault 'tis thou hast liv'd so long.
Howe'er for me, thou well mayst spare
Thy Anger, and thy frowns may cease:
Who for thy good looks little care,
Does for thy bad ones care much less.
To the same, Whilst she'd needs look fair and young.
LEt Autumns paint her wither'd leaves,
And Winter dye his Snowy hair;
Yet he's a Fool that not perceives
They either dyed, and painted ar.
So while thou'lt needs look young again,
And still seem fair unto the sight;
Misa thy labour's all in vain,
Like his woud wash the Ethiope white.
Who lookt well in King Iames's raign,
And in King Charles's, old appeard,
Will hardly now look young again,
When th' Common-wealth has got a beard.
Then Misa follow my advise,
And leaving off thy bootless care;
Strive rather to gain hearts than eyes,
And to appear more good than fair.
Good counsel to an Enemy,
NO more for shame! but let's be friends agen,
And let's remember w'ar not beasts but men.
Beasts out of natural instinct fight, but we
Shud out of natural instinct now agree:
This baiting one another, is but just
Like Bear-baiting, where those who seem the most
Delighted with't, nor love the Dog nor Bear,
But onely th' sport to see them rend and tear
Each other, and themselves who'd harm and hurt
As beasts do, onely to make others sport?
No more for shame then, let's be friends agen,
And still remember w'are not [...]asts, but men.
The Liberty.
FRee as I was born I'll live,
So shud every wiseman do;
Onely Fools they are who give,
Their freedoms to I know not who▪
If my weakness cannot save it,
But 't must go, what ere it cost;
Some more strong than I shall have it,
Who can keep what I have lost?
Still some excellency shud be,
More i'th' Mr. than the Slave,
Which in others till I see,
None my liberty shall have.
Nor is't excellency enough,
Time or chance can marr or make;
But't shall be more lasting stuff
Shall from me my f [...]e [...]dom take.
Those to whom I'll give away,
That which none too dear can buy,
Shall be made of better clay,
And have better souls than I.
To the Lord John Bellasis.
'TIs not to honour, but be honour'd by't,
I mention you, my Lord, in what I write.
Since to my Book can be no greater Fame,
No [...] greater honour unto me again:
Then to have him, who has the Fame to be
His Countries honour, thus to honour me.
To the Lady Elizabeth Gage, On her Marriage and Conversation to the C. Religon.
NEver was greater Test [...]mony given
(Madam) how Marriages are made in Heaven
[Page 50] Then is by yours that both Religion had,
For mak [...]ng it, and hath religion made:
So as if Marriges be holy all,
We this of yours may doubly holy call,
In which y'ave doubly offer'd up your vowes,
Both to your heavenly, and your earthly Spouse:
Whence 'tis a joyful one indeed, has made
Not onely Men, but even the Angels glad;
To whom it does more properly belong,
Than unto us to sing your Nuptial Song.
Which whilst above i'th' higher world they do,
We here below congratulate them and you.
To the Lord George Barkley.
SInce as by clear experience we see,
Vertue is onely true Nobility.
There's none gives greater proof of it than you
(My Lord) that your Nobility is true:
And that 't may so continue, you provide,
By adding to't true Piety beside.
" For Piety is but Vertue dyed in grain,
Can ne'r change colour, nor take spot or stain.
Such Courtiers Heaven desires, & such Kings shud
Desire too, if they'd have them great and good▪
Happy the whilst (my Lord) are such as you,
Fit both for th' heavenly Court, and earthly too.
Of Friends and Foes.
TWo Painters (friend and foe) once went about
To paint Antigones whose one eye was out,
which t'on to shew, and t'other for to hide;
That turn'd his blinde, and this his better side.
Just so 'twixt Friends and Foes men are exprest,
By halfs set forth, whilst they conceal the rest:
None, as their Friends or Foes, depaint them woud,
Being ever half so bad, or half so good.
On the Riches o'th' Barbadoes, to Mr. H. D. Esq
HOw Rich Barbadoes is of other things,
We well may see by th' wealthy Trade it brings:
How rich it is in men, we well may see,
By binging fourth brave Drax such men as thee.
On the Marriage of the Lord Brakley, With the Lady Elizabeth Cranfield, made An. 65.
THe fairest Flower of Cranfields Race,
And noblest branch of Edgerton,
Accompanied with every Grace,
By Hymen now are joyn'd in one.
And now the Nuptial rites are past;
In passing o'er the rest was done:
Let's to the Bridal Chamber haste,
Where th' Bridgroom longs I'm sure to come,
Go happy Youth, and taste abed,
The pleasures far Eliza yeilds;
By far surpassing all that's sed,
O'th' pleasures o'th' Elizian Fields.
And fair Eliza bee'nt affraid
O'th' Bug-bears of a Marryed life;
Those fears which haunt you now a Maid,
Will vanish soon when y'are a Wife.
And in their place such joys shall leave,
When once you are a Mother grown:
No humane thought can ere conceive,
Or ere b' exprest by humane Tongue!
On his Arara. Drowned in his return from Brasil.
THou how so like unto the Phaenix wer't
In shape and plumes, and almost every par▪
[Page 53] That so unlike shud be your destiny,
That shud by Fire, and thou by Water dye!
Consolation To Poor Porters.
TAke courage Porter, every one must bear
Somewhat or other whilst they tarry here;
And every one (if that be good) are free,
As well as thou, o'th' Porters Company.
Nor is't so base a Trade perhaps as thou
Imaginst it, since if that saying be true:
Great honours, are great burthens we may call
The Porters Trade, the honourablest of all.
Out of Ronsard, Of a happy life.
CEluy n'est pas heureux, qu' on monstre par larue,
Que le peuple cognoit, que le peuple sal [...]e;
Mais heureux est celuy, que la Glo [...]re n'es point,
Que ne cognoit personne, & qu' on ne cognoit point.
The same in English.
HE is not happy, they point at i'th' Streets,
Whom the people does know, and salutes as it meets:
But happy is he who ambition has none,
Nor others to know, nor by others be known.
To certain Ladys, Who said they like not your old Wits.
LAdies, you like not your old Wits, you say,
And what new ones are those you like I pray?
Perhaps y'ave squeemish stomacks just like those▪
Loath vvonted fare, and'd have some new quelque chose.
And 'tis the nature of Green-sickness Wits,
As 'tis of your Green-sickness Appetits:
To [...] in the souls, t'other the bodies food,
To l [...]ke the bad, and to mislike the good:
O [...] just as Heresie at first begun,
With crying down the old Religion,
So 'tis a kinde of Heresie in you,
To cry down old Wits, and cry up the new▪
If so, Ladies, o'th' new say what you will,
With your good leave, I'm for the old ones still.
Of Friends and Acquaintance.
WHo 'twixt Acquaintances and Friends does make▪
No difference, is just like him does take
Each peeble-sto [...], of which enough are found
In each High-way, for some Rich Diamond.
A Friend's a Cabinet-piece, and to be sought
All the World o'er, nor can too dear be bought,
Whilst t'other's a cheap trivial thing, you meet,
And take up when you please in every street.
Believe not all who friendship then protest,
But prove them first, and after chuse the best:
For he who every one a friend does call,
In time of need shall finde no friend at all.
The Ant.
LIttle thinkst thou poor Ant who there
With so much pains in so short time▪
A grain or two to th' Cell dost bear,
There's greater work i'th' world than thine▪
I'th' small Republick too at home,
Where thou'rt perhaps some Majestrate;
Little think'st thou, when thou dost come,
There's greater in the world than that.
Nor is't such wonder now in thee,
No more o'th' world, nor things dost know,
That all thy minde o'th' ground shud be,
And thoughts on things so poor and low.
But that man so base minde shud bear
To fix it on a clot of Ground;
As there no other business were,
Nor greater world for to be found.
He so much of the man does want,
As metamorphoz'd quite agen,
Whilst thou'rt but man turn'd groveling ant,
Such grovelers seem but ants turnd men.
How to bear neglects.
LEt it not trouble thee, when any woud,
Put a neglect upon thee, if they coud:
But minde it not, and thy neglect will be
More great of them, then theirs can be of thee.
On Madam Master.
OF Madam it may well be sed,
[...]hat Madam's head has little Wit,
When Madam's Husband is head,
And Madam makes a Fool of it.
On Doctor Cornuto.
WHo so famous was of late,
He was with Finger pointed at;
What cannot learning do, and single state?
Being marryed, he so famous grew,
As he was pointed at with two,
What cannot learning and a Wife now do?
On Simple.
SImple made much ado, and much offence
He [...]ook, for saying he scarce had common sence;
Till saying he had, and very common too,
Simple was pleas'd, and made no more ado.
On Marryed Ministers.
IF both i'th' Spiritual and Temporal War,
Their Wives but Baggage of the Armies are;
[Page 56] We well may say, your Ministers who Marry,
VVhilst others fight, do with the Baggage tarry.
In pravos Aulicos.
IF▪ as they say Courts are like Heaven, & Kings
Like Gods, sure Cour [...]iers shud be holy things;
Like Angels, from which state when once they fall,
As Divels did, the Divel take them all.
In Invidum.
WHen ere thou seest me take delight,
In any thing thou bursts with spight.
And so thou dost at every thing,
That does me good, or profit bring.
Thou bursts with spight, to see that I
Am still in noble Company;
And honour I receive from them,
Does make thee burst with spight agen.
And if my honour, my delight,
And profit, makes thee burst with spight;
And all my good, does prove thy ill,
I prethy burst with spight of't still.
Of an Evil Tongu'd person.
THou hast so many Tongues as Cerberus, nor
Seaven-headed Hydra, scarcely coud have more:
The lying, cogging, and dissembling Tongue;
The spightful, rayling, and malicious one;
The foul and beastly, the Satyrical;
The leud, and slanderous one, and above all,
The scurrilous & profane. Strange! that one shud
Amongst so many Tongues have never a good!
In eundem.
WHilst I repay with handsome▪ Railerie,
Thy base and ugly rayling against me:
Thou call'st me foul-mouth'd for't, thy self thou means,
As those in Lewkners-lane, call Ladies Queans.
In eundum.
THe same advantage, thou hast over those,
Who have some Fame, whilst thou hast none [...]o loose;
As Gamsters have, who play o'th' Tick with one,
Who has some money, whilst themselves have none.
In Inimicum.
SInce all some Enemies needs must have, I'm glad
That such as thou mine Enemies are made;
For as I'th' field, the worthiest are best,
So out o'th' field, still the unworthiest.
In eundem.
I See thou art resolv'd in spight,
To cry down every thing I write;
And I'm resolv'd in spight of thee,
To write so, thou asham'd shalt be,
Both of thy Envy, and thy Spight,
To cry down every thing I Write.
On M. Asoto, An apocryphal Captain.
IF with the Cynick we away shud fling
Every unuseful, and superfluous thing,
I nothing know, thou better coudst afford
To fling away Asoto, than thy sword.
Of the Application Of these Epigrams.
WHilst I (on purpose not to have them known)
Present in Mask and Vizard any one,
And they themselves, or any else (in fine)
Shall pluck it off, the fault is theirs, not mine.
On Sir Querilous Coxcomb.
THer are two sorts, with which he can't agree,
All that are better, & all are worse than he:
Do you secure him for the better sort,
And for the worser I'll secure him for't.
On a Rich vain-glorious Miser.
THou boasts thy money, and if that be all,
Thy praise, and commendations is but small;
For every Cobler may with industry
And pains, (in Time) boast that as well as thee:
Mony's like muck, that's profitable while
'T serves for manuring of some fruitful Soyl;
[Page 60] But on a barren one (like thee) methinks
'Tis like a Dunghil, that lyes still and stinks.
To one Who desired him not to name him.
I Wonder why thou shudst be so asham'd,
Amongst such noble persons to be nam'd!
Unless thou think's thee unworthy of it? if so,
Th'ast reason for't, and I'm of thy minde too.
To one Who desired him to name her.
YOu'd have me name you, & I wo [...]d not name
Any, but onely those of better Fame:
I prethy then, that we two may agree,
Go bring a better Fame along with thee.
Against Covetousness.
WHilst those for wealth do sell their liberty,
Call't Angling for the golden-Fish, for me;
Loving my liberty as I do, I look
Upon't as fishing with a Golden-hook.
[Page 61] And he who spends his life in getting wealth,
And to increase his Store consumes himself;
Does just to me as very a Fool appear,
As he, sold's horse, to buy him provinder.
To one that shall be nameless▪
TO those from whom, I for reward can't look
So much as comes to th' binding of my Book;
Much less the printing, why shud I present
It to 'um, unless 't be out of complement?
And I don't like such complement [...] as those,
Where one gets nothing, and is sure to loose.
To the same.
I'M in great straits! for first I do believe,
Shud I ask any thing, you'd nothing give;
Then if I shud not, you'd ne'er think of me,
What shud I do in this extremitie?
Why I write not of Love.
YOu fain woud have me writ of Love, & say,
It may be chaste and vertuous, so it may:
But howsoe'er vertuous and chaste it be,
It yet does come so nigh unchast [...]
[Page 64]And is so stiep and slippery a precipiece,
One easily thence does slide and [...]all to vice.
Wherefore let who's list write of it for me,
I'll keep me, if I can, from th' danger free.
L'Envoye To the Readers.
AUthors use to make you feasts,
Books the fare, and Readers guests;
Iudgement, Caterer and Wit,
The Cook for the a seasoning it:
All which when on the Table set,
The Author who provides you meat,
Does pray you heartily to fall
Unto't, and says, y'are welcome all.
THEATRICAL EPIGRAMS.
The Third BOOK.
Of Plays and Actors.
YOu rail at Plays, th'are idle things you say,
Faith so's the world, for all is but a Play;
And difference 'twixt them, there is none at all,
But t'on's the Copy, t'other th' Original:
And as the World is but a Theater, so
All that are in it are but Actors too;
Let none dispise then the dramatick Art,
Since none that's in the world, but Acts their part.
This of the Stage, then let's at last conclude,
For satisfying the ignorant multitude;
That of all Recreations, when well us'd
It is the best, as worst when 'tis abus'd.
Of Poets.
OUr lives we trust to the Physicians care,
For manners, Poets our Physicians are;
Their way to profit and delight, their End
To commend Virtue, Vice to discommend,
Of which unless they take especial care,
They rather Poys'ners then Physicians are:
And just like Poys'ners too, shud have their hire,
To be themselves and poyson cast i'th' fire.
On Sir Common Critick.
WHilst thou on every thing so fast dost spend
Thy judgement, as twoud never have an end.
Prethy take heed thou spendst it not so fast,
To leave thy self no judgement at the last.
To the judicious Censurer.
BUt unto thee who knowst the Rules of Art,
And judgst not out of ignorance, but desert;
Whose head like empty ballances is not sway'd,
But all things there judiciously are weigh'd.
[Page 67] There's none that's wise, but willingly woud submit
All that he writes, to judge and censure it;
And shud far more prefer thy judgement then,
That of whole Theaters full of other men;
Who think perhaps that difference, there is none
'Twixt judging and condemning every one;
While th' wise do onely know to judge like you,
For to condemn, that every Fool can do.
On the Cinical Censurer.
'TIs but a cruel sport thou hast to go
To Theaters, as to Bear-baitings they do,
And Bandog-like to fall upon the Play,
Woory the Poet, and then go their way:
As some great Anter, thou forsooth hast done,
When every day dogs do as great an one.
On the death Of Sir William Davenant.
NOw Davenant's dead, the Stage will mourn,
And all to Barbarism turn;
Since he it was this latter age,
Who chiefly civiliz'd the Stage.
He knew's decorum, and the Art,
To fit his properties to's part,
His part unto the Actors, and
All to the dramma h'ad in hand.
And if the Stage or Theater be
A little world, 'twas onely he,
Who Atlas-like supported it,
By force of Industry and Wit.
Not onely Dedalus arts he knew,
But even Promethius's too;
And living Machines made of men,
As well as dead ones for the Scene.
All [...] this, and more he did beside;
Which having finished he dy'd;
If he may properly be sed
To dye, whose Fame will ne'er be dead.
Of his Plays.
AS for his Plays, the Unfortuats Lovers,
The depth of Tragedy discovers;
In's Love and Honour you may see,
The height of Trage-comedy.
[Page 69] And for his Wits, the Comick fire
In none yet ever flam'd up higher.
But coming to his Siege of Rhodes,
It out goes all the rest by odds,
And somewhat's in't that does out do
Both Ancients and the Moderns too.
And thus you see h'as left behind,
In's Plays, the best of every kinde.
On Mr. Abraham Cowly.
COwley's not dead, immortal is his Muse,
Or if he be, a Phaenix he's become;
Who unique in his kinde, his life renues
By animating's Ashes in his Tomb.
The same in French.
NOn, Cowley n'est pas mort, sa Muse est Immortelle
Ou biensi Cowley est mort, e'est un Phenix nouveau,
Qui n'ayant son pareil, soy mesme ronovelle
Et suruit asa cendre animant son Tombe a [...].
To Mr. John Dreyden.
DReyden the Muses darling and delight,
Than whom none ever flew so high a flight.
Some have their vains so drosie, as from earth,
Their Muses onely seem to have tane their birth.
Others but water-Poets are, have gon
No farther than to th' Fount of Helicon:
And they'r but aiery ones, whose Muse soars up
No higher than to mount Pernassus top;
Whilst thou, with thine, dost seem to have mounted higher,
Then he who fetcht from Heaven Celestial fire:
And dost as far surpass all others, as
Fire does all other Elements surpass.
On a bungling dramatick Poet.
SInce thou must needs write Playes, it is thy fate,
And ours to be so plagu'd with them of late;
We are as feard as of the plague, and more,
When we but see thy Bills upon the Door;
It seems that every one their madness has,
Actors to Act them, we to see thy Playes;
And thou to write them, question which of all,
We may the most and greatest madness call;
[Page 71] For curing which, Apollo must be fain,
To let thee bloud in the Poetique vain;
And give to us, and th' Actors Hel [...]bor,
If ere they act, or ere we [...]ee them more
The Author of a good Play not Acted, To the Author of an ill one Acted.
THeir Wit & Iudgement's small, we well may say
By th' Acting, or not Acting, judge the Play;
For 'tis [...]ot th' Acting (rightly understood)
But writing makes the Play, or had, or good;
If good (like mine) then 'tis the Actors fault,
And not the Writers, if they act it not.
But if't be bad (like thine) then if they do
'Tis both the Actors fault, and Writers too.
Of the difference Betwixt the Ancient and Modern Playes.
IF any one the difference woud know,
Betwixt the Ancient Playes and Modern now;
In Ancient Times none ever went away,
But with a glowing bosome from a Play,
With somewhat they had heard, or seen, so fierd,
They seem to be Celestially inspir'd▪
Now you have onely some few light conceits,
Like Squibs & Crackers, neither warms nor heats;
[Page 72] And sparks of Wit as much as you'd desire,
But nothing of a true and solid fire:
So hard 'tis now for any one to write
With Iohnson's fire, or Fletcher's [...] & spright:
Much less inimitable shakspears way,
Promethian-like to animate a play.
Valediction To the Stage and Dramatick Poetry.
I Who so much have lov'd thee heretofore,
When thou wer't chaste, do love thee now no more,
But like some common Mrs. give thee o'er.
By which all those who blam'd me for't, may see
I onely lov'd thee for thy chastity,
Which now th'ast lost, th'ast lost a friend of me.
And as for those who have deboisht thee so,
I publickly declare my self their foe,
As by this following piece the world shall know.
In your scurrilous and obscene Dramatick Poets.
SHame and disgrace o'th' Actors and the Age,
Poet more fit for th' Brothel than the Stage!
Who makes thy Muse a Strumpet, and she thee
Bawd to her lust, and so you well agree:
[Page 73] Bawdry however washt is foul enough,
But thou dost writ such foul unwashed stuff,
Thou onely seems to have taken all the pain,
To write for White stones-parke, or Lewknors-lane:
And Water-poets we have had good store,
But never Kennel ones till thee before.
What Divel made the write? for sure there's none
Coud write so bad, without the help of one,
Which till't be exercis'd, and quite cast out,
Th'art onely fit to write for th' common rout;
And with thy impudent lines, and scurrilous stile,
To make Fools laugh, & wisemen blush the while.
On the spoyling and mangling of one of his Plays.
ALas poor Play! for never Orphens
By frantick hands was torn & mangled thus!
Better I'd barren been, for this is worse,
Then t'have the Fairys steal ones child from nurse,
And make a Changling of 't. But 'tis in vain,
For things are past prevention to complain.
'Tis th' common fate of Poets now-a-days,
T' have such as these mangle & spoil their Plays;
And there is scarcely any one that scapes,
Th' unskilful tampering of these Poet-Apes;
For which, all th'harm that I coud wish to them,
May, never Poet write for them agen:
[Page 74] But they be forc'd to Act old Plays like those
For want of new, are forc'd to wear old Cloathes;
And come o'th' Stage all tattered and poor,
In old cast sutes, which Field and Burbadge woar.
On our late Prologues and Epologues.
AS Horse-coursers their Horses set to sale,
With Ribonds on their Forheads and their Tail:
So all our Poets gallantry now-a-days
Is in the Prologues, and Epilogues of their Plays.
On the Play of the life of Pyrocles, Prince of Tyre.
ARs longa, vita brevis as they say,
But who inverts that saying made this Play.
PROLOGUE, For the revival of his Damoiselles a la mode, Acted by his Majesties Servants.
THis Play of ours, just like some Vest or Iup,
Worn twice or thriee, was carefully laid up:
[Page 75] And after for sometime it so had lain,
Is now brought forth, as good as new again;
For having the honour of our Masters sight,
And happiness of giving him delight,
Our Author thought his business was done,
But great part of our business is to come:
He onely lookt after the pleasure of it,
But we must look as well into our profit;
He car'd but for an Audience or two,
But that on our account will hardly do.
And to conclude, he had his end agen,
In pleasing those who onely saw it then:
But we must please you now, or we'd be sorry,
Since onely for that end w'ave kept it for ye.
The Epologue.
ANd now what think ye o'th' Damoiselles a la mode?
We hope none grutches money th'ave bestow'd,
In seeing them, or if that any here
Does think for seeing them, they have paid too dear,
We wish that for the mode and Damoiselles too,
They ne'er may dearer pay, than now they do.
PROLOGUE, Intended for his Physician against his will, In a Fools Coat.
I'M sure to see me thus for Prologue stand,
You'll think some fooling business is in hand;
A thing so common now, as if you minde it
In every Coat as well as mine you finde it.
And now since fooling is so much in fashion,
This we'll say forth' Stages commendation;
That of all sorts of Fooling now-a-days,
The best and innocentst is that of Plays:
For this our Play (as in the Bill you'll see)
'Tis call'd a Farce, and not a Comedy,
'Cause 'tis an Antick, Drolling-piece affords,
You mimick gesture, to your comick words:
And just as Iigs to otheir Airs, so this
Is unto other Plays and Comedies:
'Tis merryer then a Comedy by halph,
And does not onely make you smile but laugh:
T'on stirs up mirth in you, t'other comes after,
And spight o' your teeth makes you burst forth in laughter.
Those who love mirth and laughter then may stay,
And have their fills of't ere they go away,
And those who woud have serious Plays in Rhyme
May go their ways, and come another time.
Songs in Playes. Chorus. In his Play of Loves Kingdom, Incensing and Lustrating the place.
FAr hence be all profane, whilst here
With solemn Rites thus every year,
To render every Lover true,
We Element Loves Kingdom new.
That no breast too strongly beat,
We give his Fiers a temperate heat;
We give its Waters vertuous force
To slack them, taken in their source;
Fogg of perjur'd vows and oaths,
Which fair Truth and Candor loaths:
We purge the Air from, and the Earth
From every foul and monstrous birth:
For as some Lands their Monsters fear,
Unruly Lust's our Monster here.
As others poys'nous beasts molest,
So Avarice is our poys'nous beast.
[Page 78] From which when once a land is freed,
Then Loves Kingdom 'tis indeed.
Invocation of silence in the same Play.
SAcred silence thou that art
Floud-gate of the dieper heart;
Off spring of a heavenly kinde,
Frost o'th' mouth, and thaw o'th' minde.
Admirations readyest Tongue,
Leave thy Desert shades among,
Reverend Hermits hallowed Cells,
Where retyr'd devotion dwells,
With thy Enthusiasmes come,
Ceaze this Nymph, and strike her dumb.
Yhe Commutation Of Love and Death's Darts.
LOve and Death o'th' way once meeting,
Having past a friendly greeting,
Sleep their weary eye-lids closing,
Lay them down themselves reposing.
Love whom divers cares molested,
Coud not sleep, but whilst death rested:
All in haste away he posts him,
But his haste too dearly costs him.
[Page 79] For it chanc'd that going to sleeping,
Both had given their Darts in keeping
Unto night, who Errors Mother,
Blindly knowing not t'on from t'other;
Gave Love, Deaths, and ne'er perceived it,
Whilst as blindly Love receiv'd it.
Since which time their Darts confounding,
Love now kills instead of wounding:
Death our hearts with sweetness filling,
Gently wounds instead of killing.
The description of noble Love.
NOw Lovers, in a word to tell
What Noble Love is, mark me well.
It is the Counterpoise that mindes
To fair and vertuous things inclines,
It is the gust we have and sence
Of every noble excellence.
It is the pulse by which we know,
Whether our souls have life or no;
And such a soft and gentle fire,
As kindles and inflames desire;
Until it all like Incence burns,
And unto melting sweetness turns.
Song.
CElia weeps, and those fair Eyes,
Which were diamonds before;
Whose precious value none coud surprize,
Desolves into a pearly shower.
Celia smiles, and strait does reader
Her Eyes diamonds again;
Which after shine with greater splendor,
As the Sun does after Rain.
And if the Reason now you'd know,
VVhy Pearls and Diamonds fall and rise;
Their prices just goe high and low,
As they are worn in Celia's Eyes.
Song. The mock Lover.
OF all your Fools the Lover
Does greatest folly discover,
VVho's always crying and weeping,
Like School-boyes after a whipping,
To see a great Lubber
To whine and to blubber
[Page 81] And hear them cry out upon Cupid,
With gesture so antick,
You'd think he were frantick,
There's nothing in Nature so stupid.
2.
Your natural Fools we pitty,
And delight in those that are witty:
But he who's a Fool for love,
Nor delight nor pitty does move;
These onely are Toyes
For Girles and for Boyes,
And never move to compassion;
When Cupid has Eyes,
And Lovers are wise,
They'll love in another fashion.
The mock Marriage, A drolling Song.
YOu're to be mard or married, as they say,
To day or to morrow, to morrow or to day:
But be it, as they say,
To morrow or to day,
[Page 82] For your comfort yet I pray,
Take this by the way,
Your marryed folk are fickle,
Your marirage ware is brittle,
And 'twixt Merryage,
And Marriage,
Is difference not a little.
A Rural Dialogue.
Cho.
ONce a Nymph & Sheepherd meeting,
Never past there such a greeting;
Nor was heard 'twixt such a pair,
Plainer dealing than was there:
He pay'd women, and she men,
He slights her, she him again.
Words with words were over thwarted,
Thus they meet, and greet, and parted.
Sh.
He who never takes a wife.
Lives a most contented life.
Ni.
She her whole contentment looses,
Who a Husband ever chooses.
Si.
I, of women know too much,
Ere to care for any such
Ni.
[Page 83]I of men too much do know,
To care where ere you do no.
Sh.
Since y'are resolv'd farewell,
Look you lead not Apes in Hell.
Ni.
Better lead Apes thither then,
Thither to be led by men.
Sh.
They to Paradise would lead you,
Be but rul'd, by what they bid ye.
Ni.
To Fools Paradise 'tis true,
Woud they but be rul'd by you.
Cho.
Thus they parted as they met,
Hard to say who best did get;
Or of Love was least affraid,
When being parted either said.
Ambo
Love, what Fools thou makst of men
When th'are in thy power, but when
From thy power they once are free?
Love, what a Fool men make of thee?
Facetious and drolling EPIGRAMS.
The Exchange Maid.
MAid, if Gallants you'd invite
By whole dossens to your sight,
Get you to th' Exchange, and there,
Of all Trades tu [...]n Linniner:
For your Gallants most love Linnin,
Since 'tis that they must do sin in;
And is ever next the skin,
Where does chiefly lye the sin.
Then still keep your Tongue a walking,
(For they much delight in talking)
And with Reparties so quick,
Give them word for word so thick;
None that plays at Shuttlecock,
May sooner give them stroak for stroak;
Still provided that your main
Designe, be onely for your gain;
And 'twixt buying and bestowing,
Keep their purses still agoing:
[Page 85] But to their Chambers ne'er go home,
If to your Shop you'd have them come:
Since, if once they get you there,
Farewel to all your other ware:
Then put them off with pish and fie,
When they chance to come too nigh,
And tell them money buys ('tis true)
Linnin, but matrimony you.
And of these Rules you need take care,
But onely till you marryed are,
And then by priviledge of his Crest
Your Husband cares for all the rest.
On the Fanaticks. Or Cross-haters.
WHo will not be baptiz'd, onely because
In Baptism they make the sign o'th' Cross,
Shewing the whilst how well the Divel and he,
In loving of the signe o'th' Cross agree.
Seeing how every one in swiming does,
Streth forth their arms, & make the sign o'th' Cross:
Were he to swim, rather then make (I think)
The signe o'th' Cross, he'd sooner chuse to sink.
On an ill-favour'd malitious person, In Burlesques Rhyme.
TO tell you what—was
For Beauty both of person and face;
Her face was good, if with faces at least
It goes as with Bucklers, the broadest the best;
And person fair, if for fairness it goes,
With women at least, as * with Bullocks it does:
In plainer tearms, without mincing the matter,
She had a face as broad as a platter;
And person such, as to see her you'd fancy,
'Twere some Dutch Iugg were come from beyond Sea.
As for the qualitys of her interior,
Which to her outside were nothing inferour.
She lov'd not the world, and 'twas less to be pittyed,
Since the world lov'd not her, and so they were fitted,
And was so malicious in words and in action,
As she woud set at division and faction;
First day of their mar [...]iage, your husband & wives,
And children and parents, last day of their lives;
The biggest the fairest.
[Page 87]Wherefore I'll end with this Littany on her,
Lord bless all those who love quietness from her.
To a Lady who reported he was in love with her, Because he made Verses on her. Made Anno 54.
CLoris how you your ignorance discover,
Whilst you mistake a Poet for a Lover?
Who when he Verses writes, makes love, 'tis true,
But 'tis unto his Muse, and not to you.
Know then there's nothing can be more absur'd,
then for to take a Poet at his word;
Who when he praises, with Hyperbolyes,
Nothing but Poetry can excuse from lyes:
'Tis the Idea of his Wit and Brain,
He praises, and not you, then bee'nt so vain,
To think that you the subject are of it,
When 'tis th' Idea of his Brain and Wit.
To the same grown proud and disdainful for it.
CLoris, ne'er think that I shud whine & cry,
Since you'll needs change, for your inconstancy:
Sinks down for grief, and fall into a Trance;
But if you needs will change, I'd have you know
That I can change as easily as you,
When all the harm that's like to come of it,
Is, you leave me, I you, and so w'are quite:
I'm like your Glass, or Mirror, that the same
Face you shew it, still shews to you again;
Smiles when you smile, frowns when you frown, and so
Does every thing just as it sees you do:
Then be the same to me you were before,
Or I will be the same to you no more;
Who easily for't my pardon can obtain,
By finding my excuse, in your disdain;
But how you'll finde excuse and pardon now,
For your disdain the whilst, I do not know.
On the Iustice of Peace's making of Marriages, Anno 54.
NOw just as 'twas in Saturn's Raign;
The golden Age is returned again;
And again Astrea from heaven is come,
When every thing by Iustice is done.
[Page 89] Who now, not onely in Temporal matters,
But also in Spiritual looks to our waters;
And Parson and Vicar have nothing to do,
When Iustice has making of Marriager too:
The name of Iustice was dreadful before,
But now 'twill be a hundred times more;
When we must expect no manner of favour,
But all stand bound to our good behaviour:
Our Mittimus now by Iustice is made,
And we in sayl of Wedlock are laid,
When instead of bonds, we are bound in a halter,
And sure to be hang'd if ever we falter.
So every thing does fall out right,
And that old proverb is verified by't;
That Marriage and Hanging both go together,
When Iustice shall haue the ordering of either.
On the occasion Of his being left alone in the Mulbery-Garden, To wait on all the Ladies of the times. Anno 56.
1.
NOw into what times
Are we faln for our crimes?
[Page 90] Or whatever the matter of 't may be,
It does not afford
So much as a Lord,
To wait upon a Lady?
But now all alone,
A walking they come,
With no man to wait upon them:
Your Gallants are grown
Such Taryers at home,
A murren and shame light on them.
2.
Is't boldness they lack,
They are grown so slack,
Or each turn'd Woman hater?
Or money they want?
That's grown very scant;
Or what the Devil's the matter?
But yet we behold
Them daily more bold,
And their Lands to Coyn they distil ye;
And then with the money,
You see how they run ye
To loose it at Piccardily.
3.
Your Country Squire
I far more admire,
(If's want of breeding you'll pardon)
He knows 'tis the fashion
To give them Collation,
Who go to the Park and the Garden;
Whilst he of the Town,
Is grown such a Clown,
To wait on them he's unwilling:
But away he does run,
When the Ladies do come,
And all to save his ten shilling.
4.
But Ladies you'll see,
Be ruled by me,
This geer will soon be amended;
Upon them but frown,
VVhen you have them at home,
And all this quarrel is ended.
Sharp Hawks you are sure,
VVill come to the lure,
So for favours in private starve them,
And strait you'll see,
In publick they'll be
More ready and glad to deserve them.
The Conclusion To his MAJESTY.
VOuchsafe great Sir, on these to cast your sight,
Made chiefly for your Majesties delight,
By him, has cast off all ambicion,
But onely the delighting you alone;
Counting it highest honour can befall,
To delight him, who's the delight of all.
EPIGRAMS DIVINE AND MORAL, DEDICATED To Her Majesty.
Nunc—cetera ludicra pono.
Hor.
Printed in the Year 1670.
TO Her MAJESTY CATHERINE of PORTVGAL, Queen of Great Brittain, &c.
MADAM,
AS never any Stranger was more oblig'd than I, unto the King your Father, of glorious Memory; so never any had greater desire than I, to make acknowledgement of it to your Majesty: but living in obscurity, retyr'd from the light of Court; and making [Page] no Figure there, I imagined it would have no Grace for such a shadow and Cypher as I, to present my self unto your Majesty; and other presents I had none, but onely this, which by its littleness, shews the greatness of my desire to declare my self,
MADAM,
Your Majesties In all Humility and Devotion, Richard Flecknoe.
Divine and Moral EPIGRAMS.
The Fourth BOOK.
To her MAJESTY, Of the dignity and efficacy of prayer.
AS by the Sun we set our Dyals, so
(Madam) we set our Pietys by you;
Without whose light, we shud in darkness be,
And nothing truely good nor vertuous see.
You in the Temple so assidual are,
Your whole Life seems but one continued Prayer;
[Page] And every place an Oratory you make,
When from the Temple y'are returned back:
Like vapours prayers ascend, and heaven in rain
Of blessings, showers them down on us again;
And if Heaven suffers violence, from whence
But onely prayer proceeds this violence?
Fools were those Gyants then, since if insteed,
Of heaping hills on hills, as once they did,
They had but heapt up prayers on prayers as fast,
they might have easily conquer'd heaven at last.
O mighty prayer, that canst such wonders do,
To force both Heaven, and the Almighty too!
On these words of our B. S. O woman great is thy Faith!
O Lord! when shall our Faith be praised thus?
And we deserve t'have thus much said of us?
Others count all things possible to thee,
We nothing possible but what we see:
They more to faith, than sences credit give,
We more our sences, than our faith believe
They believe all, we but believe by halfs,
Their Faiths are Gyants, ours but onely dwarfs.
Why I write these pious Epigrams so short.
SInce long discources thou'lt not harken to,
I make these short, to see what that will do.
On the Nativity of our B. S.
AFter the Glory which to God on high,
Was given to day, at his Nativity:
If piously—curious you woud know
What Peace it was, was given to men below.
That peace of God infallibly it was,
All humane understanding does surpass;
Which whilst the high & proud do seek in vain [...]
The low and humble onely do obtain.
Seek then to know no farther, but be wise,
This is the Mystery of Mysteries;
After which none that any Reason hath,
Can doubt of any mystery of Faith,
That God's a Man, and 's Mother a Virgin is,
What can there be more wonderful than this?
Of the Circumcision of our B. S.
HOw soon, O Lord, to day didst thou begin
To shed thy blood for us, when first was seen?
[Page] Spring forth the Fountain of thy pretious bloud,
Which at thy passion, ended in a floud.
On the death and passion of our B. S.
O Blessed God! and wouldst thou dye.
For such a wretched thing as I?
This of thy Love's so great a proof
Angels can ne'er admire enough;
And all the Love by far transcends,
Of Parents, and of dearest friends:
T'have such a benefit bestow'd,
Woud undo any but a God:
And Love it self make Bankrout too,
By leaving't nothing more to do.
Had King or Prince done this for me,
What wondring at it woud there be?
And wondring at it now there's none,
When by a God himself 'tis done!
Strange blindness! man shud more esteem
Of any thing that's given to him,
By earthly Kings, than what is given
Unto him by the King of heaven!
Of Iudgement.
DEath terriblest of terriblest they call,
But here behold the terriblest of all;
For none fear death, but those who judgement fear
For some offences th'ave committed here.
Life's but a prison, we the prisoners are,
Death, Iaylor, or the Turnkey as it were:
Who but delivers us when Sessions come,
To the Tribunal, to receive our doom:
When as we well or ill have lived here,
We shall be punisht or rewarded there:
And this now is the most that death can do,
The rest let each ones Conscience look unto.
Happy are those who in that dreadful day,
With good Hylarion confidently may say,
" Go forth my soul, this many and many a year
Thou hast serv'd God, & now why shudst thou fear?
Leave that to those, who whilst they made aboad
In this world here, did serve it, more than God:
" The good and vertuous wish for death, the bad
And vitious onely are of death affraid.
Death is the shadow of life, and as in vain
A beast shud look for th' shadow of a man;
So those who have not liv'd the life, shud trust
In vain, at last to dye the death o'th'just.
Of Easter and Christmas.
OF Easter, a great word was said,
This is the day the Lord hath made;
Of Christmas yet, a greater word,
This is the day that made the Lord.
On these words of our B. S. I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life. Paraphrase.
THou art the Way, the Truth, and Life thou sayst,
As well thou mayst,
What Fool is he, then woud forsake the way,
And go astray?
What Fool is he, who woud the Truth refuse,
And falshood chuse?
But above all, what fool and mad man's he
Woud forsake thee,
Who art Eternal Life, and chuse to dye Eternally?
On Gods beholding all we do.
THou fearst the sight of men, when thou dost ill,
Why not the sight of God, who sees thee still?
On our dependancy on the hands of Almighty God.
HAve you not markt how little puppets move,
By their dependanee from some hand above?
Just such is man i'th' hands of God, if he
But well consider'd his dependancy;
And who if this he well consider woud,
Shud ever dare to offend Almighty God?
Who gently leads those, who his will obey,
And those who won't, he hales and drags avvay.
Rebel and fool then, struggle not in vain,
To flee the hand of God, and break thy chain;
Which thou canst never do, nor ever flee,
But from God pleas'd, to God displeas'd with thee.
Struggle no longer with him then, for woe
Unto thee, if he once but let thee go.
On these words of B. S. Be ye perfect.
YOu bid us to be perfect, Lord and we
Continue still imperfect as you see;
What shud we say, O Lord, but onely this?
Give what you bid, and bid us what you please.
On these words of the Apostle Nihil ex me possum facere. And again: Omnia possum in eo qui me Confortat.
HAppy are those who doubly armed are,
Against presumption, and against dispair;
By these words of th' Apostle: first, that man
(Without Gods help) of himself nothing can;
and next that he can all things do again,
By Grace of God, who helps and comforts him.
On the saying of a certain holy man.
MY God and I can all things do, said one,
And if it seems too great presumption
To name himself with God, 'tis without doubt
A greater yet, to name one's self without.
On these words. Deo service Regnare est.
HArk all, who just like Tantalus's starve,
Whilst you in vain for worldly greatness serve;
[Page] And know that all this world is but a cheat,
And how there's nothing in't that's truely gyeat:
But if indeed true greatness thou dost love.
'Tis onely to be sought i'th' world above.
And to serve God whilst in this World w'are here
Is th' onely way to arrive unto it there.
Know then, the onely true Ambition,
Is for to serve Almighty God alone.
For who serve others are but slavish things,
But 'tis to Raign to serve the King of kings,
On the Picture of a weeping Magdalen.
ARt as well as Nature coud,
Have made a speaking, if it woud,
As well as weeping Magdalen:
But that it is the nobler way,
In those who grieve for love they say,
to grieve and never to complain.
On the Magjis following the Star.
OTher Astrologers of opinion were,
That all the World was lesser than a Star;
But these it seems, believed it alone,
Who woud leave all the world to follow on.
Of the rooting out vices.
VIce is in man, as weeds in Gardens are,
And lest we daily take especial care,
To weed and root them out, they grow so fast,
We shud be quit o'er grown with them at last.
More shame for us, each silly Gardner then
Shud take more care to keep his Garden clean
Than we our selves, and with a hand more nice,
purge it from weeds, than we our selves from vice.
Of the pleasure of doing good, &c.
DO good with pain, this pleasure in't you finde,
The pain's soon past, the good remains behinde:
Do ill with pleasure, this y'ave for your pains.
The pleasure passes soon, the ill remains.
On a Ladies Beauty suddenly decay'd.
O Heavens! is this that so admired face,
Where yesterday such world of Beauty was?
And now to day, 'tis all so wholly gon,
No shadow coud be vanish'd half so soon!
If this the end of mortal Beauty be,
O thou imortal; rather unto thee
Let me my vows, and my devotions pay,
That ever lasts, and never canst decay:
Then such frail Idols, which whilst we adore,
To day are here, to morrow are no more.
Of Sin.
WHo woud but think, when th'are about to sin
O'th' pains which sinners for't in Hell are in;
They'd sooner throw themselves i'th' fire here,
Than hazard [...]eing thrown i'th' fire that's there.
This if thou dost believe, I see not how
Thou canst a sinner be, and if that thou
Dost not believe it, then I do not see,
How thou agen a Christian canst be.
Cast Angels out of heaven, created there,
man out of Paradise, who there did dwell,
And all the rest for sinning into Hell.
The Harmes of procrastination
You say Repentance never comes too late,
But let not sinners be deceiv'd with that;
It may too late be to Repent, if they
Defer it yet untill an other day.
How many sinners have unto their sorrow,
Lost Heaven by putting't off until to morrow?
And Hell is full of those, who sinning cry'd,
To morrow still, till unawars they dy'd.
Then let's not croaking Ravens imitate,
By crying cras, cras still, till't be too late:
But leaving of this damned cry, let's say,
To morrow is too late, begin to day.
Of hearing the Word of God.
IF those (as Holy Scripture makes it clear)
Who have the Spirit of God, God's Word will hear,
We well may fear what spirit makes abood,
In those, who will not hear the Word of God.
On our B. S. curing the Leaper, And our own infirmity.
O Lord thou knowst how most infirm I am,
Blinde unto Truth, & vertuous actions lame.
O therefore thou that makst the blinde to see,
And lame to walk, help my infirmity.
I know, O Lord, thou needst but onely say
Be cur'd, as thou to th' Leaper didst to day:
And thou knowst Lord, so great's my misery,
That I am far more Leaporous than he;
For mine's not onely in the outward skin,
But in the very heart, and minde within;
And does not onely make the body soul,
But even infects and taints the very soul.
O therefore thou that knowst my infirmitie,
Make haste, O Lord, to help and succour me.
Of Revenge,
GOd says Revenge onely to him belongs,
The Laws to them, the righting others wrongs:
For us to seek Revenge then, what is's else
But to wrong them, whilst we woud right our selves.
Of Heaven.
WHat God is, he might undertake as well,
As what Heaven is, shud go about to tell:
For God makes Heaven, as Kings make Courts, and he
No more by man can comprehended be;
Then can the Ocean that is infinit,
Be comprehended in some narrow pit.
Just then, as less the Oceans bottom's found
More dieply those ingulpht in it are drown'd;
And as the more's our ravishment, the less
We can the joyes which ravish us express,
We well may say it ne'er can be exprest,
What joys are there prepared for the blest:
And 'twere not Heaven, if we knew what it were,
But more a Heaven the whilst, to those are there.
Of the thought of death.
I Can't conceive how any can be said,
Happy to live, who are of death affraid;
Since daily we in every thing do see't,
And every where w'are put in minde of it:
Happy was he then every night did go
To bed, as 'twere unto his grave, and so
[Page] Got such a habit of't at last, he did
Go to his grave, but as he went to bed.
" Since every where death waits for us, 'tis fit,
" We likewise every where shut wait for it.
Of a Noble Ladies imbracing a Religious Life, Eglouge:
A gentle Sheepherdess, as ere did tread
Upon the Plains whereon her Flock were fed,
Inspir'd by him, who all good thoughts inspires,
Felt in her breast, till then unfelt desires
To taste Heavens pleasures, seeing Earth had none,
A Soul in longing, long coud feed upon.
But changing one, a weary of the first,
She found the latter pleasure still the worst:
And so went still deluded in her minde,
Seeking for that which she coud never finde.
This Infant thought, with pious care she fed,
And with Religious Education bred;
Giving it now an Aspiration,
Or vote of that blest life to feed upon;
And now a sigh, and now a tear agen,
For never knowing that happiness till then:
Avoiding carefully those Rocks and Shelves,
On which so many souls had wrackt themselves,
[Page] Those two extreams on which so many fall,
To undertake too much, or nought at all.
For 'tis with new-born-children of desire,
As 'tis with sparks you kindle unto fire:
Starv'd with too little fewel 'twill not lighs,
Opprest with too much, 'tis extinguisht quite.
And now she's all a fire, happiness be
Fair Virgin to thy best desires and thee:
So full, so high, so great a happiness,
As nothing can be more, that is not less;
Nothing beyond, but down the Hill again,
And all addition rather loss then gain.
By glad experience mayst thou finde all store
Of hearts contentment thou expects and more;
And learn that Magick of Religion there,
Makes every thing quite contrary appear
To you, than unto us. Rich poverty,
Triumphant sufferance, brave humility,
Soft hardness, greatest difficulties slight,
Sweet bitterness, and heaviest burthens light:
Ease in your labour, pleasure in your pain,
A Heaven on Earth, and all things else but vain.
FINIS.