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Tell me how curst an egging, what a sting Besides, what many carefully have done,
Of lust do their unwildly daunces bring?

Getting the unrighteous man, a righteous sonne.
The simple wretches say they meane no harme, Then stoutly on, let not thy flock range lewdly
They doe not, surely; but their actions warme In their old vanity, thou lampe of Bewdly.
Our purer blouds the more : for Satan thus One thing I pray thee: do not too much thirst
Tempts as the more, that are more righteous. After idolatryes last fall; but first
Oft hath a brother most sincerely gon,

Follow this suit more close, let it not goe Stifled in prayer and contemplation,

Till it be thine as thou would'st have 't: for 'soe
When lighting on the place where such repaire, Thy successors, upon the same entayle,
He viewes the nimphes, and is quite out in 's prayer. Hereafter, may take up the Whitson-ale.
Oft bath a sister, grownded in the truth,
Seeing the jolly carriage of the youth,
Bin tempted to the way that's broad and bad;
And (wert not for our private pleasures) had
Renoune't her little ruffe, and goggle eye,

And quitt her selfe of the fraternity:
What is the mirth, what is the melody,

That sets them in this Gentiles' vanity?
When in our sinagogue we rayle at sinne,

Noe; not a quatch, sad poets; doubt you, And tell men of the faults which they are in, There is not greife enough without you? With hand and voice so following our theames,

Or that it will asswage ill newes, That we put out the side-men from their dreames. To say, Shee 's dead, that was your Muse ? Sounds not the pulpett, which we then be-labour,

Joine not with Death to make these times Better, and bolyer, than doth the tabour?

More grevious than most grievous rimes. Yet such is unregenerate man's folly,

And if 't be possible, deare eyes, He loves the wicked noyse, and hates the holy.

the famous universityes, Routes and wilde pleasures doe invite temptation, If both your eyes be matches, sleepe; And this is dangerous for our damnation ;

Or, if you will be loyall, weepe: We must not move our selves, but, if ware mov'd, For-beare the press, there's none will looke Man is but man; and therefore those that lov'd Before the mart for a new booke. Still to seeme good, wonld evermore dispence Why should you tell the world what witts With their own faults, so they gave no offence.

Grow at New-parkes, or Campus-pitts ? If the times sweete entising, and the blood Or what conceipts youth stumble on, That now begins to boyle, have thought it good. Taking the ayre towards Trumpington ? To challenge liberty and recreation,

Nor you, grave tutours, who doe temper Let it be done in holy contemplation:

Your long and short with que and semper; Brothers and sisters in the feilds may walke,

doe not, when your owne are done, Beginning of the holy worde to talke,

Make for my ladie's eldest sonne
Of David, and Uriah's lovely wife,

Verses, which he will turn to prose,
Of Thamer, and her lustfull brother's strife ; When he shall read what you cumpose!
Then, underneath the hedge that woos them next, Nor, for an epithite that failes,
They may sitt downe, and there act out the text. Bite off your unpoëticke nailes.
Nor do we want, how ere we live austeere,

Unjust! why should you in these vaines,
In winter sabbath-nights our lusty cheere;

Panish your fingers for your braines ? And though the pastor's grace, which oft doth hold Know henceforth, that griefe's vitall part Halfe an howte long, make the provision cold,

Consists in nature, not in art: We can be merry; thinking 't nere the worse And verses that are studied To mend the matter at the second course.

Mourne for themselves, not for the dead. Chapters are read, and hymnes are sweetly sung, Heark, the queenie's epitaph shall be Joyntly commanded by the nose and tongue;

Noe other then her pedigree: Then on the worde we diversly dilate,

For lines in bloud cutt out are stronger Wrangling indeed for heat of zeale, not hate : Then lines in marble, and last longer : When at the length an unappeased doubt

And such a verse shall never fade,
Fiercely comes in, and then the light goes out; That is begotten, and not made.
Darkness thus workes our peace, and we containe “ Her father, brother, husband,...kinges;
Our fyery spiritts till we see againe.

Royall relations ! from her springes
Till then, no voice is heard, no tongue doth goe, A prince and princesse; and from those
Except a tender sister shreike, or so.

Fair certaintyes, and rich hope growes."
Such should be our delights, grave and denture, Here 's poetry shall be secure
Not so abominable, not so impare,

While Britaine, Denmarke, Rheine endure: As those thou seek'st to hinder, but I feare

Enough on Earth; what purchase higher, Satan will be too strong; his kingdome's here; Save Heaven, to perfect her desire ? Pew are the righteoas now, nor do I know

And as a straying starr intic't How we shall ere this idoll overthrow;

And governd those wise-men to Christ, Siine our sincerest patron is deceas't,

Ev'n soe a herauld-starr this yeare
The number of the righteons is decreast.

Did beckon on her to appeare:
But we do hope these times will on, and breed A starr, which did not to our nation
A faction mighty for us; for indeede

Portend her death, but her translation:
We labour all, and every sister joynes

For when such harbingers are seene,
To have regenerate babes spring from our loynes : God crownes a saint, not kills a queenė.


That were to cry out helpe for my affaires,

For which nor publick thought, nor private cares:
No, when thy fate I publish amongst men,

I should have power to write with the state's pea: Vincent Corbet, farther knowne

I should in naming thee force publicke teares, By Poynter's name, then by his owne,

And bid their eyes pay ransome for their eares. Here lyes ingaged till the day

First, thy whole life was a sbort feast of witt, Of raising bones, and quickning clay.

And Death th' attendant which did wait on it: Nor wonder, reader, that he hath

To both mankind doth owe devotion ample, Two surnames in his epitaph;

To that their first, to this their last example. For this one did comprehend

And though 't were praise enough (with them whose All that two familyes could lend :

And vertue's nothing but an ample name) [fame And if to know more arts then any

That thou wert highly borne,(which no man doubles) Could multiply one into many,

And so migbtst swath base deedes in poble cloutes; Here a colony lyes, then,

Yet thou thy selfe in titles didst not shroud, Both of qualityes and men.

And being noble, wast nor foole, nor proud; Yeares he liv'd well nigh fourscore ;

And when thy youth was ripe, when now the suite But count his vertues, he liv'd more;

Of all the longing court was for thy fruit, And number him by doeing good,

How wisely didst thou choose! Foare blessed eges, He liv'd their age beyond the flood.

The kings and thine, bad taught thee to be wise. Should we undertake his story,

Did not the best of men thee virgin give Truth would seeme fain'd, and plainesse glory : Into his handes, by which himselfe did live? Besides, this tablet were too small,

Nor didst thou two yeares after talke of force, Add to the pillars and the wall.

Or, lady-like, make suit for a divorce: Yet of this volume much is found,

Who, when their own wild lust is falsely spent, Written in many a fertill ground;

Cry out, “ My lord, my lord is impotent.” Where the printer thee affords

Nor hast thou in his nuptiall armes enjoy'd Earth for paper, trees for words.

Barren imbraces, but wert girl'd and boy'd: He was Nature's factour here,

Twice-pretty-ones, thrice worthier were tbeir youth, And legier lay for every sheire;

Might she but bring them up, that brought them To supply the ingenious wants

forth: Of some spring-fruits, and forraigne plants. She would have taught them by a thousand strains, Simple he was, and wise withall;

(Her bloud runns in their manners, not their veides) His purse nor base nor prodigall;

That glory is a lye; state a grave sport; Poorer in substance than in friends;

And country sicknesse above health at court. Future and publicke were his endes;

Oh what a want of her loose gallants have, His conscience, like his dyett, such

Since she hath chang'd her window for a grave; As neither tooke nor left two much :

From whence she us'd to dart out witt so fast, Soe that made lawes were uselesse growne

And stick them in their coaches as they past ! To him, he needed but his owne.

Who now shall make well-colour'd vice looke pale? Did he his neighbours bid, like tbose

Or a curl'd meteor with her eyes exhale, That feast them onely to enclose ?

And talke him into nothing? who shall dare Or with their roast meate racke their rents, Tell barren braines they dwell in fertill haire? And cozen them with their consents?

Who now shall keepe ould countesses iu awe, Noe; the free meetings at his boord

And, by tart similyes, repentance draw (such Did but one litterall sence afforde;

From those, whom preachers had given ore? Even Noe close or aker understood,

Whom esermons could not reach, her arrowes touch. But only love and neighbourhood.

Hereafter, fooles shall prosper with applause, His alms were such as Paul defines,

And wise men smile and no man aske the cause: Not causes to be said, but signes;

He of fourescore, three night capps, and two haires, Which alms, by faith, hope, love, laid down, Shall marry her of twenty, and get heyres Laid up what now he wears...a crown.

Which shall be thought his owne; and none shall say Besides his fame, his goods, his life,

But tis a wondrous blessing, and he may. He left a griev'd sonne, and a wife;

Now (which is more then pitty) many a knight, Straunge sorrow, not to be beleiv'd,

Which can doe more then quarrell, less then figbt, Whenas the sonne and heire is greiv'd.

Shall choose his weapons, ground; draw seconds Reade then, and mourne what ere thou art

thither, That doost hope to have a part

Put up his sword, and not be laught at peyther. In honest epitaphs; least, being dead,

Oh thou deform'd unwoeman-like disease, (pease, Thy life be written, and not read.

That plowst up flesh and bloud, and there sun'st
Aud leav'st such printes on beauty, that dust come
As clouted shon do on a floore of lome;

Thou that of faces hony-combes dost make,

And of two breasts two cullenders, forsake

Thy deadly trade; thou now art rich, give ore, UPON THE DEATH OF LADY HADDINGTON, WIFE OF JOHN

And let our curses call thee forth no more. RAMSAY, VISCOUNT HADDINGTON, WIJO DYBD OF THE

Or, if thou needs will magnify thy power,

Goe, where thou art invoked every houre, Deare losse, to tell the world I greise were true, Amongst the gamsters, where they name thee thicke But that were to lament my selfe, not you; At the last maine, or the last pocky nicke.


Get thee a lodging neare thy clyent, dice,

Till now : that fable, by the prince and you, There thou shalt practice on more than one vice. By your transporting England, is made true. There's wherewithall to entertaine the pox, [box. We are not where we were; the dog-starr raignes There 's more than reason, there 's rime for 't, the No cooler in our climate, than in Spaine's ; Thou who hast such superfluous store of game, The selfe same breath, same ayre, same heate, same Why struckst thou one whose ruine is thy shame?

burning, O, thou hast murdred where thou shouldst have kist; Is here, as there; will be, till your returning: And, where thy shaft was needfull, there it mist. Come, e're the card be alter'd, lest perhaps Thou shouldst have chosen out some homely face, Your stay may make an errour in our mapps ; Where thy ill-favour'd kindnesse might adde grace, Lest England should be found, when you shall passe, That men might say, “How beauteous once was she!" A thousand miles more southward than it was. Or, “ What a peece, ere she was seaz'd by thee!" | Oh that you were, my lord, oh that you were Thou shouldst have wronght on some such ladyes Now in Blackfryers, in a disguis'd haire'; mould

That you were Smith againe, two houres to be That ne're did love her lori, nor ever could In Paul's next sunday, at full sea at three; l'ntill she were deform'd, thy tyranny

There you should heare the legend of each day, Were then within the rules of charity.

The perills of your inne, and of your way;
But npon one whose beauty was above

Your enterprises, accidents, untill
All sort of art, whose love was more than love, You did arrive at court, and reach Madrill.
On her to fix thy ngly counterfett,

There your should heare how the state-grandees Was to erect a pyramide of jett,

flout you, And put out fire to digg a turfe from Hell,

With their twice-double diligence about you; And place it where a gentle soule should dwell : How our environ'd prince walkes with a guard A soule which in the body would not stay,

Of Spanish spies, and his owne servants barr'd; When twas noe more a body, nor good clay, How not a chaplaine of his owne may stay But a hage ulcer. O thou heav'nly race,

When he would heare a sermon preach'd, or pray. Thou soule that shunn'st th' infection of thy case,

You would be hungry, having din'd, to heare Thy house, thy prison, pure soule, spotless, faire, The price of vic: uailes, and the scarcity, there; Rest where no heat, no cold, no compounds are ! As if the prince had ventur'd there his life Rest in that country, and injoy that ease,

To make a famine, not to fetch a wife.
Which thy frayle flesh deny'de, and her disease ! Your eggs (which might be addle too) are deare

As English capons; capons as sheepe, here;
No grass neither for cattle; for they say
It is not cut and made, grasse there grows hay:

That 't is soe seething hott in Spaine, they sweare

They never heard of a raw oyster there:
Your cold meat comes in reaking, and your wine

Is all burnt sack, the fire was in the vine;
Ip wc, at Woodstock, have not pleased those,

Item, your pullets are distinguish't there Whose clamorous judgments lye in urging noes,

Into four quarters, as we carve the yeare, Anál, for the want of whifflers, bave destroy'd

And are a weeke a wasting: Munday noone Th’ applause, which we with vizards hadd enjoy'd, Tuesday a legg, and soe forth; Sunday more,

A wing; at supper something with a spoone; We are not sorry; for such witts as these Libell our windowes oft'ner than our playes;

The liver and a gizard betweene foure: Or, if their patience be moov’d, whose lipps

And for your mutton, in the best houshoulder Deserve the knowledge of the proctorships,

'Tis felony to cheapen a whole shoulder.

Lord! how our stomacks come to us againe, Or judge by houses, as their howses goe,

When we conceive what snatching is in Spaine ! Not caring if their cause be good or noe;

I, whilst I write, and doe the newes repeate,
Nor by desert or fortune can be drawne
To credit us, for feare they loose their pawne;

Am forc't to call for breakfast in, and eate:
We are not greatly sorry; but if any,

And doe you wonder at the dearth the while ? Free from the yoake of the ingaged many, [by,

The flouds that make it run in th' middle ile, That dare speake truth even when their head stands Poets of Paul's, those of duke Humfry's messe, Or wben the senior's spoone is in the pye;

That feede on nought but graves and emptinesse. Nor to commend the worthy will forbeare,

But heark you, noble sir, in one crosse weeke

My lord hath lost a thowsand pound at gleeke; Though he of Cambridge, or of Christ-church were, And not of his owne colledge; and will shame

And thongh they doe allow but little meate, To wrong the person for his howse, or name;

They are content your losses should be great. If any such be griev'd, then downe proud spirit;

False, on my deauery! falser than your fare is; If not, know, number never conquer'd merit.

Or than your difference with Cond de Olivares,
Which was reported strongly for one tyde,
But, after six houres floating, ebb’d and dyde.
If God would not this great designe should be

Perfect and round without some knavery,

Nor that our prince should end this enterprize,

But for so many miles, so many lies: TO THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, BEING WITH THE PRINCE

1 The prince and Buckingham on their journey I've read of ilands floating and remov'd

wore false beards and assumed the names of Jack la Ovid's time, but never heard it prov'd

and Tom Smith. G,






If for a good event the Heav'ns doe please
Men's tougues should become rougher than the seas,
And that th' expence of paper shall be such,
First written, then translated out of Dutch :

Corantoes, diets, packets, newes, more newes,

AFTERWARDS CHARLES II. Which soe much innocent whitenesse doth abuse; If first the Belgicke? pismire inust be seene, U PON 'THE APPARITION OF A STARR, AND THE FOLLOWINA Before the Spanish ladie be our queene; With such successe, and such an end at last, All's wellcome, pleasant, grateful, that is past.

Was Heav'ne afray'd to be out-done on Earth, And such an end we pray that you should see,

When thou wert borne, great prince, that it brought A type of that which mother Zebedee

Another light to helpe the aged Sunn,

(fort Wisht for her sonnes in Heav'n; the prince and you

Lest by thy luster he might be out-shope? At either hand of James, (you need not sue) Or were th' obsequious starres so joy'd to view He on the right, you on the left, the king

Thee, that they thought their countlesse eyes too few Safe in the mids't, you both invironing.

For such an object; and would needes create Then shall I tell my lord, his word and band

A better influence to attend thy state? Are forfeit, till I kisse the princes hand;

Or would the Fates thereby shew to the Earth Then shall I tell the duke, your royall friend

A Cæsar's birth, as once a Cæsar's death? Gave all the other honours, this you earn'd;

And was 't that newes that made pale Cynthia rud This you have wrought for; this you hammer'd out

In so great hast to intercept the Suno; Like a strong smith, good workman and a stout. And, enviously, so she might gaine thy sight, In this I have a part, in this I see

Would darken him from whom she had her light? Some new addition smiliog upon me:

Mysterious prodigies yet sure they be, Who, in an humble distance, claime a share

Prognosticks of a rare prosperity:
In all your greatnesse, what soe ere you are.

For, can thy life promise lesse good to men,
Whose birth was th' envy, and the care of Hear'ne!


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BIRTH OF YOUNG PRINCE CHARLES (RICHARD, THE THIRD EARL OF DORSET.) When private men gett sonnes they get a spoone! Let no prophane, ignoble foot tread here,

Without ecclypse, or any start at noone: This hallowed piece of earth, Dorset lyes there:

When kings gett sonnes, they get withall supplyes

And succours, farr beyond all subsedyes. A small poore relique of a noble spirit,

Wellcome, God's loane! thou tribute to the state, Free as the air, and ample as his merit: A soul refin'd, no proud forgetting lord,

Thou mony newly coyn'd, thou fleete of plate! But mindful of mean names, and of his word:

Thrice happy childe! whome God thy father seit Who lov'd men for his honour, not his ends,

To make him rich without a parliament!
And had the noblest way of getting friends
By loving first, and yet who knew the court,
But understood it better by report
Than practice: he nothing took from thence
But the king's favour for his recompence.
Who, for religion or his countrey's good,

HIS SON, VINCENT CORDET, Neither his honour valued, nor his blood.

ON HIS BIRTH-DAY, NOVEMBER 10, 1030, BEING TILEX Rich in the world's opinion, and men's prajsc,

And full in all we could desire, but days.
He that is warn'd of this, and shall forbear What I shall leave thee none can tell,
To vent a sigh for him, or shed a tear,

But all shall say I wish thee well;
May he live long scorn'd, and unpitied fall, I wish thee, Vin, before all wealth,
And want a mourner at his funeral'!

Both bodily and ghostly health:

Nor too much wealth, nor wit, come to thee, 2 This refers to a popular tract published in So much of either may undo thee. 1622, under that title, in favour of the Low Coun

I wish thee learning, not for show, tries, and for the purpose of prejudicing the people Enough for to instruct, and know; of England against the marriage which Villers Not such as gentlemen require, was negotiating when this poem was addressed to To prate at table, or at fire. bim. The negotiation was not only disgraceful, I wish thee all thy mother's graces, but unsuccessful :

Thy fatber's fortunes, and his places.

I wish thee friends, and one at court, -αισχρον γαρ ημιν και προς αισχυνη κακον. G. Not to build on, but support;


i Mr. Gilchrist observes that Corbet's claim to * Alluding to the practice of the sponses at this poem is somewhat doubtful as it occurs in christenings giving spoons to the child as a bapbishop King's poems. C.

tismal present. G.


To keep thee, not in doing many

And on the tenth of August, northward bent
Oppressions, but from suffering any.

A journey, not so soon conceiv'd as spent.
I wish thee peace in all thy wayes,

The first halfe day they rode, they light upon
Nor lazy nor contentious days;

A noble cleargy host, Kitt Middleton';
And when thy soul and body part,

Who, numb'ring out good dishes with good tales,
As innocent as now thou art.

The major part o'th'cheere weigh'd downe the scales:
And though the countenance makes the feast, (say


Wee nere found better welcome with worse lookes.

Here wee pay'd thankes and parted; and at night
Had entertainement, all in one man's right?,
At Flore, a village; where our tenant shee,

Sharp as a winter's morning, feirce yet free,

With a leane visage, like a carved face
BORN IN 1573; DIED MARCH S1, 1631. On a court cupboard, offer'd up the place.

Shee pleas'd us well; but, yet, her husband better; He that would write an epitaph for thee,

A harty fellow, and a good bone-setter 3. And do it well, must first begin to be

Now, whether it were providence or lucke, Such as thou wert; for none can truly know Whether the keeper's or the stealer's bucke, Thy worth, thy life, but he that hath liv'd so. There wee had ven’son; such as Virgill slew He must have wit to spare, and to hurl down When he would feast Æneas and bis crew. Enongh to keep the gallants of the town;

Here wee consum'd a day; and the third mome He must have learning plenty, both the laws To Daintry with a land-wind were wee borne. Civil and common, to judge any cause;

It was the market and the lecture-day, Divinity great store, above the rest,

Por lecturers sell sermons, as the lay Not of the last edition, but the best.

Doe sheep and oxeu ; have their seasons just He must have language, travel, all the arts, For both their marketts: there wee dranke dowae Judgment to use, or else he wants thy parts:

dust. He must have friends the highest, able to do, In th' interim comes a most officious drudge“, Such as Mecænas and Augustus too.

His face and gowne drawne out with the same budge; He must have such a sickness, such a death, His pendent poucl, which was both large and wide, Or else his vain descriptions come beneath. Lookt like a letters-patent by his side: Who then shall write an epitaph for thee,

He was as awfull, as he had bin sent
He must be dead first; let 't alone for me. From Moses with th' elev'nth commandement;

And one of us he sought; a sonne of Flore
He must bid stand, and challendge for an hower.

The doctors both were quitted of that feare,

The one was hoarce, the other was not there;
Wherefore him of the two'he seazed, best
Able to answere him of all the rest :

Because hee neede but ruminate that ore

Which he had chew'd the Sabbath-day before.

And though he were resolv'd to doe bim right, SHE DIED OCTOBER THE 2D, ANNO 1634.

For Mr. Bayley's sake, and Mr. Wright,

Yet he dissembled that the mace did erre; (FROM MSS. HARL NO. 464.)

That he nor deacon was, nor minister. Here, or not many feet from hence,

No! quoth the serjeant; sure then, by relation,

You have a licence, sir, or toleration :
The virtue lies call'd Patience.
Sickness and Death did do her honour

And if you have no orders 'tis the better,

So you have Dod's Præcepts, or Cleaver's Letter. By loosing paine and feare upon her. 'T is true they forst her to a grave,

Thus looking on his mace, and urging still
That's all the triumph that they have-

Twas Mr. Wright's and Mr. Bayley's will
A silly one-Retreat o'er night

That hee should mount; at last be condiscended
Proves conquest in the morning-fight:

To stopp the gapp; and so the treaty ended.
She will rise up against them both

The sermon pleas’d, and, when we were to dine,
All sleep, believe it, is not sloth.

Wee all had preacher's wages, thankes and wine. And, thou that read'st her elegie,

Our next day's stage was Lutterworth, a towne Take something of her historie:.

Not willing to be noted or sett downe
She had one husband and one sonne;
Ask who they were, and then have doone.

At Aston on the Wall, in Northamptonshire, where Christopher Middleton, as rector, accounted for the first-fruits Oct. 12th, 1612; and was bu

ried Feb. 5th, 1627. G. ITER BOREALE.

By the right of Dr. Leonard Hutton,

some note in his day, the fellow-collegian and subFoure clerkes of Oxford, docters two, and two

sequent father-in-law of bishop Corbet. G. That would be docters, having lesse to do

3 A note in the old copies informs us that his With Augustine than with Galen in vacation, name was Ned Hale. G. Chang'd studyes, and turn'd bookes to recreation: * A sergeant. Edit. 1648. G.





man of


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