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Germania mourns, al Spayne doth múse,

And so doth Italy,
And Fraunce our friend hath put in print

His passing tragedie."

J. H.

Art. XIV. A treatise of Patience in tribulation; first preached before the right honourable the Countesse of Southampton in her great heauines for the death of her most worthy husband and Sonne : afterward inlarged for the helpe of all that are any way afflicted crossed or troubled. By William Iones B. of D. and P. of Arraton in the Isle of Wight. Psal. cxxvi. 5. They that sowe in teares shall reape in ioy. Herevnto are ioyned the Teares of the Isle of Wight shed on the tombe of their most noble Captaine Henrie Earle of Southampton, and the Lord Wriothesley his sonne. The tombe and epitaph. [On the slab) Henrye Iames Wriothesley. Anagram. Here I see many worthies ly. [On theside]

Here yee see two but two's not all; for why
In these two Worthyes many Worthyes dye ;
O what a generation's here surprized

Of nolle liloud which was in them comprized ? Printed at London by William Iones dwelling in Redcrosse-streete. 1625. 410. pp. 48.

The name of a patron of Shakspeare must ever be hallowed.-Title-pages are somewhat similar to the canvas rolls that decorate the outside of a showman's booth, and delineate some strange or interesting subjects, to decoy the inquisitive multitude, while all within are stuffed skins and moppers. The Epistle

Dedicatory

Dedicatory is addressed to the Countess of Southampton, but the treatise, for the little it contains relative to the deceased herges, might have been preached over the body of Jack Cade, as admonitorý precepts of patience to check his riotous followers. The text is from “ Rom. xii. 12. Patience in tribulation.” After quoting a short saying of Saint Augustine, the sermon commences. “ First, to open the words. The word translated tribulation, comes of a verbe which signifies to pinch, as the fuote is pinched in a strait shooe; or to presse as grapes are squeezed in the wine-presse. Metaphorically tis vsed for to afflict, or to bring into any strait of body or mind; and so the substantiue sig, nifies any thing which is hard and crosse to the nature of man;-yea any euill which we suffer in bodie or mind.”—Quan. suff. The teares of the Isle of Wight, shed on the tombe

of their most nolle, valorous, and louing Caplaine
and Gouernour, the right Honourable Henrie,
Earle of Southampton; who dyed in the Nether-
lands, Novemb. 10-20 at Bergen-up-Zone. As
also the true image of his person and vertves, lames,
the Lord Wriothesley, Knight of the Bath, and
Baron of Titchfield; who dyed Novemb. 5-15 at
Rosendaell. And were both buried in the sepulcher
of their fathers at Titchfield, on Innocent's day,
1624. They were louely and pleasant in their
liues; and in their death they were not diuided.
2 Saṁ. i.
23.

Quis talia fando
Temperat à lachrymis ?-

Honoris, Amoris, Doloris, Ergô.
VOL. X.

[Representation

[Representation of tomb, inscriptions, printed, &c. ut sup. ]

At the back of the title is a short prose address to Thomas Earl of Southampton, who was a diligent observer of his father's virtues, and therefore exhorted to “ behold the shadow of them delienated here,” sig. W. Jones. An address to the reader from the same pen.

An Epicede vpon the death, &c." of the father, sig. Fra. Beale, Esq.

“An Elegie vpon, &c.” both father and son, and probably by Jones, as the poetry and prose bear kindred similarity.

“O that I could suppose my selfe to bee

True poet, rap't into an extasie!
And speaking out of a redundant braine,
Not what is simplie true, but what I faine,
That I might thinke the storie I impart
But some sad fiction of that coyning art!
How pleasing would th' adult'rate error bee?
How sweet th' imposture of my poesie?
What euer true esteeme my life hath gain'd,
I would hane false, that this were also fain'd.
But griefe will not so leaue the hould it had,
But still assures me, 'tis as true, as sad.

You bonds of honour, by th' Allmighties hand,
Seal'd and deliuer'd, to this noble land,
To save her harmlesse from her debt to fate;
How is't, that you so soone are out of date?
You promis'd more, at your departure hence,
Than to returne with your deere liues expence
Defac't, and cancell’d. You most glorious starres,
Great ornaments both of our peace and warres,

Tban

Than which, there moues not, in Great Britain's

spheare,
Sauing the Mouer's selfe, and his great heire,
A brighter couple; when you left our shore
In such great lustre, you assur'd vs more,
Than to returne extinct. O vaine reliefe!
To fill that state with ioy, your owne with griefe;
You were not with Dutch ioy receiued there,
As now, with sorrow, you are landed here."

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At the end of the elegy are “certain touches vpon the life and death of the Right Honourable Henrie, Earle of Southampton, and his true Image, Iames, the Lord Wriothesley his eldest sonne,” in fifteen short pieces of poetry, with some lines to the reader, as introductory, signed “W. Pettie." A piece entituled “ the least part of the shadow of Southampton's worth ;” with signature, “Ar. Price.” Five short pieces finally subscribed “ Gvlielmvs Iones, Capellanus mestissimus fecit invità Minerva.

There are several attempts by Jones of laborious trifling in the forming of anagrams, of which there is sufficient specimen in the title.

J. H.

Art. XV.

Dia, a poem by William Shipton. 1659, Sm. 8vo. pp. 172.

This scarce little book has been already recorded in Cens. Lit. VI. 231, by Mr. PARK, who had only seen one copy. Another having fallen in my way, I give an additional extract.

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To his friend, on the sight of his Lady. " See where she comes; behold, espy

A second Helen's beauteous face;
A front of thunder lightning eye;
Transmorphosing Acteon's case.

Just in-my breast, for now I feel
The golden dart no leaden steel,
Ixion's ever turning wheel.

Forbid it Jove, or how shall I

At sacred altars pray;
When I am Venus' votary
Conducted with that May.

Impossible to quench, I burn
In flames, less I return
Chaste Phenix from a dying urn.

Is Celia fallen from above,

To court some human race;
Here is no Ganymede of love,
A Paris, Jove-like grace.

To wanton with the sweetest sport
As petulants who do resort
To the admired Roman court.

Is the world's paramour in mind,

In this undaunted wrath,
Her childish amorist to find
Wilder'd in some path,

Of woods where noxious creatures lye,
And so in equipage to try
If he be void of jealousy.

To wander thus, is but in vain,

What secret Phillis proves
That heaven which mad poets feign

Elizium's but in loves.

Blest

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