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Thousands came knip knap, pattering on beades,

Friars, munks, and nunnes, came after with haste, As vowed pilgrimes came wives, widowes, and maides,

Of the holye pope's workes, the fruites for to taste.”

Robinson seems to have been the speculative or actual publisher of other performances. Sce Ritson's Bibliographia Poetica, p. 313.


ART. XV. Miscellanea. Meditations. Memora

tives. By Elizabeth Grymeston. Non est rectum, quod a Deo non est directum. London. Printed by Melch. Bradu'ood for Felix Norton. 1604. 4to.

From Lodge's Peerage of Ireland, 111. 266, it appears that this female writer was the daughter of Martin Barney, or Bernye, of Gunston in Norfolk, and married Christopher, the youngest son of Thomas Grimston, of Grimston, Esq. in the county of York, by whom she had issue nine children; to the youngest and only survivor of whom she thus inscribed this rare little work.

“ To her loving sonne Bernye Gry meston. “ My dearest Sonne, there is nothing so strong as the force of love; there is no love so forcible as the love of an affectionate mother to her naturall childe: there is no mother can either more affectionately shew her nature, or more naturally manifes: her affection, than in advising her children out of her owne experience, to eschue evil, aud incline them to do that



which is good. Out of these resolutions, finding the libertie of this age to be such, as that quicquid lilet licet, so men keepe themselves from criminal offences; and thy mother's undeserved wrath so virulent, as that I have neither power to resist it, nor patience to endure it, but must yeeld to this languishing consumption to wlich it bath brought me: I resolved to breake the barren soile of my fruitlesse braine, to dictate something for ihy direction : the rather, for that as I am now a dead won an among the living, so stand I doubtfull of thy father's life: which, albeit, God hath preserved from eight several sinister assaults, by which it hath beene sought, yet for that I see that quem sæpe transit casus, aliquando invenit, I leave thee this portable veni mecum for thy counseller, in which thou maiest see the true portraiture of thy mother's minde, and finde something either to resolve thee in thy doubts, or comfort thee in thy distresse; hoping, that being my last speeches, they will be better kept in the conservance of thy mer orie, which, I desire thou wilt make a register of heavenly meditations. For albeit, if thou pro est learned, as my trust is thou wilt, (for that withoi i learning mu is but an immortall beast) thon maiest happily thinke that if every philosopher fetched his sentence, these leaves would be left without lines; yet remember withall, that as it is the best coine than is of greatest value in fewest pieces, so is it not the worst booke that hath inost naiter in least words:

“ The gravest wits that most grave works expect, The qualitie, not quantitie, respect."

6. And the spider's webbe is ncither the better because woven out of his owne breast, nor the bees hony the


worse, for that gathered out of many flowers: neither could I ever brooke to set downe that haltingly in my broken stile, which I found better expressed by a grave authour.”

This admonitory epistle runs on to five appears to be the only original part of the publication, except the following sonnet by a Scotish writer, which indicates that the compiler had deceased before her book was printed.

pages, and

Simon Graham to the Authour, or rather--to the


“Goe, famous thou, with ever-flying fame,

That mak'st thy fight on Vertue's wings to soar;
In worlds of hearts goe labyrinth thy name,

That wonder's selfe may wondrous thee adore.
Though th' author's selfe triumph in heavenly glore,

Thou, sacred worke, giv'st mortall life againe:
And so thy worth bath made her evermore

In heaven and earth for ever to remaine.
Her pondrous peech, her passion and her paine,

Her pleasing stile shall be admir'd ilke where.
The fruitfull flowing of her loftie braine

Doth now bewray a Mother's matchlesse care;
While she lives crown'd, amongst the high divines,

Thou on her Sonne celestial sunne downe shines."

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Ten pious contemplations occupy the first portion of the volume.

Chap. xi. is entitled “Morning Meditation, with sixteene sobs of a sorrowful spirit, * which she used for mentali prayer: as also an addition of sixteene staves

This alliterative title would seem to be borrowed from Hunnis's * Seven Sobs of a sorrowful Soul for Sin; printed before 1600.


of verse taken out of Peter's Complaint, which she usually sung and played on the winde instrument.” This meditation is an intermixture of prose and verse. The latter is taken from the polished metre of South


Chap. xii. consists of " A Madrigall made by Berny Grymeston upon the conceit of his Mother's play to the former ditties.

“How many pipes, as many sounds

Do still impart

To your sonne's hart
As many deadly wounds:
How many strokes, as many stounds,

Each stroke a dart,

Each stound a smart, Poore captive me confounds. And yet how oft the strokes of sounding keys hath slain, As oft the looks of your kind eies restores my life againe."

Chap. xiii. an Evening Meditation, contains “Odes in imitation of the seven penitential psalmes in seven severall kinde of verse.” Taken perhaps from the poems of Verstegan, noticed in Censura, Vol. II. p. 96.

Chap. xiii. and last, entitled “ Memoratives," comprehends a selection of ancient moral maxims and sententious reflections, which are highly creditable to the maternal tenderness and good sense of the selector.


St. Peter's Complaint, with other poems, by father Southwell, appeared in 1595, and had many subsequent impressions; as may hereafter be specia ked, in the progress of this publication,


ART. XVI. Notices of, and Exhortations to, Mar

lowe, Lodge, and Peele. From Greene's Groatsworth of Wit, bought with a Million of Repentance.Printed in 159, 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 graces 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, bis 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 töly! what are his rules but mere confused mockeries, able to extirpate, in small time, the generation of mankinde. I know the least of

my deinerits 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, [This. Lodge, that lastly with mee together writ a comedy. Sweet boy, might I advise thee, be advised, and get not many en mies by bitter words. Inveigh against vaine men, for thou canst doe it, no man beiter; no man so weil: thou hast a liberty to reprove

all; and name none: for one being spoken to, all are offended; none being blamed, no man is in


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