ART. DCCCLXXXIII. JOHN CHALKHILL.

JOHN CHALKHILL, the author of Thealma and Clearchus, has two songs in Walton's Complete Angler, part of one of which Dr. Johnson translated into Latin. His translation is printed in Murphy's Edition of his works, Vol. I. p. 190.

O. G. G.

ART. DCCCLXXXIV. Notices and Fragments of English Poets and Poetry.

[FROM TOFTE'S TRANSLATION OF VARCHI'S BLAZON OF JEALOUSIE.]

R. T. (believed to be Robert Tofte) who published "Two Tales from Ariosto," 1597; and "Orlando Inamorato," 1598; also translated "The Blazon of JEALOUSY," from Varchi, in 1615, and added "special Notes upon the same," from which the following Notices and Fragments of English poets are extracted.

"A country-man of mine, a stranger unto mee, called Mr. George Wither, hath penn'd divers witty Satyres, whereof one is of this subject [Jealousy] whereof you may read in his "Abuses stript and whipt." Indeede, I am of opinion that the most worthlesse persons are alwayes most subject to this infectious disease of jealousie, as Mr. G. Wither rightly saith :

There is none jealous I durst pawne my life,

But he that bath defilde another's wife.

And commonly mala mens malus animus: an ill disposition breeds an ill suspicion. I will tell them,

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in their owne natural and mother tongue, what young master Wither writes:

(Whose pleasing satyres never shall decay,

But flourish greene, like laurell and the bay:)
"Tis grosse, sayth he, and vaine for to upholde
That all reports which travellers unfolde
Of forraine lands, are lyes; because they see
No such strange things in their owne parish be:
And if I may not tearme such fellowes vaine,
I'le say they're dull and of a shallow braine:
And him I count no wise man that imparts
To men of such base misconceiving hearts
Any rare matter; for their brutish wit
Will very quickly wrong both him and it:
For thus the saying is, and I hold so,
Ignorance only is true wisdome's foe.

Mine old acquaintance Mr. Henry Constable*, having set downe this passion in her right colours, I could not chuse but acquaint the reader therewith.

Care, the consuming canker of the minde,

The discord that disorders sweet-hearts time;

Th' abortive bastard of a coward kinde,

The light-foot lackie that runs post to death,
The busie advocate that sells his breath,

Denouncing worst to him that is his friend.

This fiend Jealousie, a quondam kinde acquaintance of mine, Mr. Thomas Watson,† paynteth forth very lively in these verses:

*See Theatrum Poetarum, p. 228, last edit.

+ See Theatrum Poetarum, p. 208, ut supra. It is observable that the verses here ascribed to Watson are, in England's Parnassus, attriuted to Drayton.

Pale Jealousie, childe of Insatiate Love,

Of heart-sicke thoughts which Melancholy bred, A hell-tormenting feare no faith can move,

By discontent with deadly poyson fed; With heedlesse youth and errour vainely led; A mortall-plague, a vertue-drowning flood; A hellish fire, not quenched, but with blood. Love, according to Plato, is three-fold. The first embraceth virtue only; the second is infamous, which preferreth bodily pleasure; and the third is of the body and soule. Nothing more noble than the first; than the second nothing more vile; the third is equall to both. But he that will see a most lively description of this kind of love, let him read Mr. Michael Draiton's definition thereof, in "the Flowers of English Parnassus."

Controlling Love, proud Fortune's busie factor,

The gall of wit, sad Melancholie's school,
Heart-killing corsive, golden Time's detractor,
Life-fretting canker, Mischiefe's poysoned toole,
The ideot's ydle brother, wise men's foole:
A foe to friendship, enemie to truth,

The wrong misleader of our pleasing youth.

I will set down here the worth of a poet, as that sweet Muse of his, who not unworthily beareth the name of the chiefest Archangel [Michael] singeth after this soule-ravishing manner:

When Heaven would strive to do the best she can,

And put an angel's spirit into a man:

Then all her powers she in that worke doth spend,

When she a poet to the world doth send ;
The difference only twixt the gods and us,
Allow'd by them, is but distinguish'd thus:

They give men breath, men by their powers are born, That life they give, the poet doth adorn;

And from the world, when they dissolve man's breath, They in the world do give man life in death.

Tofte speaks of having translated Ariosto's Satires out of Italian into English verse; which were printed, he avers, without his consent or knowledge, in another man's name,[ Gervase Markham's, 1608, 4to.] In his address to the reader, he thus commendably pleads for the distinction which he paid to some of our elder poets:

"Though this nice age, wherein we now live, hath brought more neate and terse wits into the world; yet must not old George Gascoigne and Turbervill, with such others, be altogether rejected; since they first brake the ice for our quainter poets that now write, that they might the more safer swimme in the main ocean of sweet poësie."

To Robert Tofte are attributed, in Ritson's Bibliographia Poetica, "Laura. The Toyes of a Traveller; or, the Feast of Fancie;" 1597, 4to. "Alba, the Month's Minde of a melancholy Lover;" 1598, 8vo. and "Honour's Academy; or, the famous Pastorall of the faire shepherdesse Julietta ;" 1610, fol. The bibliographer, however, has added in a note, that though the initials R. T. are constantly thought to be those of Robert Tofte, it may be just mentioned, that there was likewise a Richard Turner, who wrote "Nosce Te (Humours)," 1607, a collection of Epigrams; but nothing, it is believed, before 1600.

T. P.

ART. DCCCLXXXV. Notices of, and Exhortations to Marlowe, Lodge, and Peele. From "Greene's Groats-worth of Wit, bought with a Million of Repentance." Printed in 1592, 1617, and 21.

"To those Gentlemen, his quondam acquaintance, that spend their wits in making Plays, R. G. wisheth a better exercise, and wisedome to prevent his extremities.

"Wonder not, for with thee [Chr. Marlowe] will I first beginne, thou famous gracer of Tragedians, that Greene, who hath said with thee (like the fool) in his heart,There is no GoD,' should now give glory unto his greatnesse: for penetrating is his power, his hand lies heavy upon me. Why should thy excellent wit, his gift, be so blinded that thou shouldest give no glory to the giver? O swinish folly! what are his rules but mere confused mockeries, able to extirpate, in small time, the generation of mankinde. I know the least of my demerits merit this miserable death; but wilfull striving against knowne truth, exceedeth all the terrors of my soule. Defuse not (with me) till this last poynt of extremity; for little knowest thou, how in the end thou shalt be visited.

"With thee I joyne young Juvenal, that biting Satyrist, [Thos. Lodge] that lastly with mee together writ a comedy. Sweet boy, might I advise thee, be advised, and get not many enemies by bitter words. Inveigh against vaine men, for thou canst doe it, no man better; no man so well: thou hast a liberty to reprove all; and name none : for one being spoken