KING JAMES HIS WELCOME TO LONDON. With Eliza's Tomb and Epitaph, And our King's triumph and epitimie. Lamenting the ones decease, And rejoicing at the others access. Gaudia cum lachrymis iungamus, seria ludis. Written by I. F.  
Imprinted at London for Thomas Pavier. 1603.   

¶ King james his welcome to London.  

Hail England? I salute thee with a tongue,  
By whom thy fortunes with applause are soung,  
I greet thee in the pride of all thy boast;  
And in thy hope, whereof thou gloriest most.  
Yet, am I not so pampered in my strains,  
As to exclude all discontented veins?  
And yet not discontented but bewailing,  
The loss of her, for whom my pen is failing.  
Let then Melpom●ne amongst the rest,  
Tune models fitting for a grieved breast.  
Some melancholy intermixed with joy:  
Hinders that too much mirth not overcloy.  
Sweet, sweetly mingled with some sharper taste:  
Makes that the sweetness doth the longer last.  
As pleasing only fit's the present season;  
So shall our notes complain not beyond reason?  
Only we will remember our late Queen,  
Whose like before was never heard not seen.  
Lest we forget whom many have forgot,  
Who while she lived we loved, but dead, reck not.  
Such is our nature, we no longer care  
For gems, then whiles they show richly and rare.  
We fancy strait forego within an hour.  
Yet let us not do so by this fair flower?  
Who was the very honour of true fame,  
In her did shine the light of virtues name,  
She was the pride of matchless piety;  
For fervent zeal she was a deity.  
She was the hope, wherein true hope did trust,  
She was the burnished blade without all rust.  
She was the ancour of firm settled peace,  
She learning's stipend only did increase,  
She was the love of these whom love did love,  
In her the Planets of all grace did move.  
She was the wonder of all foreign nations,  
For loving truth and hating reprobations. She was,  
Fame's pride, hopes ancour, loves love, wonders wonder,  
From living fame, hope, love, now put asunder.  
What need I speak in terms so known and plain,  
But in a word virtue did in her reign;  
In virtuous wedlock she was true begot,  
Borne, taught, brought up in virtues throne she sat.  
And while she lived she gave God virtuous praise,  
And virtuously she ended hath her days.  
O happy jewel whilst God lent her us?  
But happier we who have enjoyed her thus.  
Had we but thought upon our happy state,  
We would have more accused our hapless fate.  
'Tis not so great a pleasure once to choose,  
As having chosen again his choice to lose.  
I muse at those who with a double face,  
Did honour past, but present times embrace?  
I wonder how these janus-scicophants,  
Whose two tongued mouths only colloging haunts?  
Can with such boldness, and such envies store,  
Seek to disgrace her whom they did adore.  
O those who have an oar for every boat,  
Whose long hanged tongues with every thought doth float.  
They which can change their tunes with every wind,  
And with each gull seem to resolve their mind,  
What pest's they are, how much to be rejected,  
Let wisemen judge, by whom they are detected.  
These flattering Parasites, these fawning curs,  
( Whose policy dishonest dealing blurs)  
Could say in times past; then the golden time  
Then, then, the golden age did only shine:  
And now can proudly speak, that Satur's prime,  
Was never truly till this present time.  
Peace buzzing drones? your humming is harsh music,  
You minister dreggs, where is no need of Physic.  
Confess with shame, Eliza's happy reign  
Will never overflowed be again.  
But yet far be it from my erred scooling?  
To make compare with high King james his ruling?  
Whose wisdom well I understand is such,  
As at Eliza's praise he will not grudge,  
Whose peaceful regiment( as his own book says)  
Was never matched since Augustus' days.  
What need we seek an author of more worth?  
When by our King himself it is set forth?  
Sleep then Elizabeth in peace and rest?  
Sing loud amongst the Angels with the best?  
For in his book we now thy praise may read,  
Who doth thee in thy seat by right succeed.  
Now rise my muse sing with a louder voice?  
And let thy song make a more joyful noise?   

Hail then King james? I greet thee with a tongue?  
Even that whose meaning is from duty sprung,  
Nor can my muse do me a greater pleasure?  
Rather than sing thy welcomes without measure  
I will by that show how my mind is loyal,  
Else should I much forget a Prince so royal.  
thou to salute with claps of hands, my quill  
Hath now extended even her utmost skill.  
O that I had but Homer's ancient vain?  
Making my verses praise my labours gain?  
And had I else but Horace his wit's springs?  
Singing Maecenas borne of ancient kings?  
Excuse me yet great prince? I'll reap a gleaning,  
Devising artless welcomes with true meaning.  
Willing to show my willingness of mind,  
Although ability small means can find,  
rich is our hope, and our assurance great,  
Doubt is expulsed, giving resolve the seat.  
Ignoble breach of promise fit's with clowns?  
And kingly promises kings and kingly crowns,  
Nor should a Prince harbour a base intent,  
Excepting not his speech but what he meant,  
Elizabeth? now I remember thee?  
Richard the third and thou did disagree?  
She what she promised she performed, but he  
Used nought but breach of word and treachery.  
She? o me thinks my pen could never slide:  
And in her praises ever could abide,  
Nor could I ever any other sing,  
Nor think on aught but her, except our king,  
I am surprised with her Idea still,  
Oft studying how I might augment my skill.  
hushed? I am silent? I will speak no more?  
Adding no Razors to a new cut soar.  
Nor need I a Physician, all proves ease:  
Nought ministereth occasion to displease.  
Except much rest, much peace, much good, much quiet,  
Security and safety grows a riot.  
For all the hopes which Papistry expected,  
Or else the triumphs to revenge erected,  
Roisters and murderers, are clean put down:  
Despairing, when they hear james wears the Crown.  
Enmity, uproars, hope of civil broils,  
Sedition, mutiny, domestic coil's.  
Are now made void; they have took needless pain,  
Lurking conspirators conspired in vain.  
Lest then constraint should praises due importune,  
Lo thus great King I do applaud thy fortune.   

IN ancient times, Kings that possessed this throne,  
First fought to get, then to defend the Crown.  
Richard the second, that unhappy Prince,  
By Henry Bullinbrooke was driven thence.  
But in the third degree, Bullinbrookes' race,  
From out the throne the Duke of York did chase.  
Great were the troubles, bloody the debate,  
Twixt Lancaster and York, but more the hate.  
The Duke himself was slain, but then his son,  
Edward the Earl of March new wars begun.  
Soon he attained his hope, when most uneven,  
crook-back gave Henry's soul apasse to heaven.  
So died the Prophet by the fatal hand:  
Of the remorseless butcher of this land.  
After whom, York's heir, Edward was proclaimed,  
And by the fourth of that name he reigned.  
But yet in trouble, hazard, doubt, and fear,  
For mocking Warwick, that first brought him there.  
Whom when he had o'erthrown, and lived in peace:  
Yet could not private grudge, and envy cease.  
His brothers scorned his marriage, scoffed his Queen,  
For that of higher blood she had not been.  
Envying his issue after him should sway:  
But Richard Gloster made them sure away.  
And for an easier pass his will to further,  
His elder brother Clarence first did murder.  
And after Edward's death( the King his brother)  
The two young Princes he in the Tower did smother.  
When lo he got the crown: but with what fear?  
When he had got it he the same did wear?  
And with what tyranny? well it is known,  
And in the Chronicles most plainly shown.  
Till worthy Richmond, pitying England's state,  
Sued for his own, resolved to try his fate.  
When he in battle overthrew this devil,  
And loosed England from a peerless evil.  
He married Edward's daughter, joined in one  
Lancaster and York, the houses of renown.  
Th●n was all peace concluded, all stu●s ceased,  
Contention grew faint, only truce increased:  
In time of which, this worthy Richmond's Earl,  
Had two young Princes, and one Princely girl.  
Margaret by name, from out whose lineal race  
Thou didst descend, and justly claimest thy place.  
Enjoy it to thy joy: gladly confess:  
How from thy Font run streams of happiness?  
For Kings which I have named, first attained  
Their seats with blood, and still in fear they reigned.  
Yea Richmond's worthy self sat not so sure:  
But traitors still rebellion did procure.  
And Henry his successor( though renowned)  
Sought how to make his weak religion sound.  
When with much toil he did from England banish,  
The Popish crew, whose fraud like smoke did vanish,  
Leaving his heir in protestancy learned:  
Who after his decease the same confirmed.  
But soon was he cropped off, such was his course,  
Death had on peerless Edward no remorse.  
When after him, came Mary to the crown,  
Religion then, and former rites went down.  
Sword, death, blood, fire, ruled then this I'll,  
No gracious fortune lent a gracious smile.  
Trouble on trouble, grief did weigh down grief,  
In vain the guiltless cried, without relief.  
Till God our former liberty did enlarge:  
Yielding the Sceptre to Eliza's charge,  
Who whiles she swayed it swayed it with like hand,  
As did Titania sway the Fairy land.  
Whom Poets feign a Virgin pure and chaste,  
As by the name of Goddess she was graced.  
Then fair Eliza, as bound by duty,  
Receive this latest farewell to thy beauty.    

A sorrowful Epitaph on the death of Queen ELIZABETH.  

Here lies ELIZA dead, who lived in fame,  
Consumed in body, but refreshed in name.  
She lived to age a glass, to youth a mirror;  
Unto her friends a joy; to foes a terror.  
She was the soldiers captain, the law's life,  
The Church's dearest spouse, the Churchman's wife,  
Learning's green Laurel, virtues chief refector:  
pieces maintainer, only Truth's protector.  
The Orphans parents, and the ritchman's stay:  
The poor man's comfort, and the nights clear day.  
The tradesman favourer, and the merchants gain;  
The sea man's night star, and the liars stain,  
The pride of all her sex, all women's boast:  
The world's wonder, that they wondered most;  
The Courtier's glory, entertaining all  
Lovers of truth young, old, in general.  
She died bewailed, she justly lived admired,  
Her body sunk her spotless soul aspired.   

THus( King) the troubles have I open laid,  
Which in the times of former Princes swayed:  
How happy then art thou? who with such peace  
Hast entered England's front? whiles turmoils cease.  
Thou art applauded by the vulgar rout:  
Who put to flight the thoughts of former doubt.  
Lo London hath held open her willing arms:  
To shadow thee from false conspired harms,  
What they endeavour, only is to find,  
How they with Pageants may content thy mind.  
The Northern gates fly open to entertain  
A happy guider to a happy reign.  
The busy scholar throws aside his book.  
Glutting his half sunk eyes at thee to look.  
The Merchant lets his getting gains go by:  
Finding more hope of gain within thine eye.  
The soldier lets his weapons now to rust:  
Nor to the spilling of more blood doth trust,  
But pleaseth most in peace, and craves a place  
Whereas he may behold thy princely face.  
The ploughman leaves his ox to grass, whiles he  
Thy countenance endeavoureth to see.  
The poor artificer now grows so bold  
To slack his work, thy presence to be hold.  
The Gentleman, the matron, maid, and wife,  
The aged man, and youth, prays for thy life,  
The nobleman, the commonalty, and all  
Rejoice at sight of thee in general.  
The Phonix that of late fled to the skies  
Hath left her ashes, from whence doth arise  
Another Phoenix, rare, unmatched, unpeered,  
Unto whose love, love is itself endeared.  
Then welcome( noble james) with my own voice:  
Think thy whole monarchy jointly rejoice.  
More welcome never Sylla triumphed Rome,  
Then( mighty King) thou dost to London come.  
O now such Prophets as in ancient times,  
Foretold of things to come( in broken rhymes)  
methinks such soothsayers should again revive,  
Telling how happily England's choice should thrive.  
O would my tongue auguriously could speak?  
Or into fortunate predictions break?  
That I might Merlin like foretell such things,  
Whose issue truth to follow ages brings.  
Yet rightly this I boldly dare avow:  
England was near established till now.  
Now may we proudly boast we need not fear,  
We have a King, and this same King an heir  
A toward Prince( if fame be true) or rather  
A virtuous son sprung from from a virtuous father.  
Long may he live, a furtherer of our joy,  
And when he reigns, reign still without annoy.  
Blessed be his match, his issue so increase,  
As we may still enjoy an endless peace.  
By which we may triumph thou tookest in hand,  
The government of this our English land.  
So as the Romans Romulus did call,  
The first foundator of their City wall.  
Or as Aeneas Latines termed to be,  
The chiefest father of their progeny:  
And first found Captain of their Italy:  
Or Bruit the Patron of our Britain:  
So after ages may in time to come,  
Call thee the Romulus of their English Rome,  
Thou shalt be our Aeneas the first grounder,  
Of all our settled stay, our hopes first founder.  
We think nor Samothes, nor on Bruits name:  
But attribute their entrance to thy fame.  
For as some worthy man which hath effected,  
Some work of charity, or a house erected.  
To love employed in some religious use:  
Where virtue may be poised without abuse.  
As he( I say) is highly to be praised,  
And have his worth with glorious trumpet raised.  
Yet if the same decay and with much charge,  
Another do the same again enlarge.  
Then is the benefactor only thought,  
The only sole foundator and as oft.  
As it decays and is repaid, by lot,  
The last is praised, the former is forgot.  
Yet sure 'tis better surely once to found it,  
Then many times uncertainly to ground it.  
Even so( great prince) it doth befall with thee:  
For well we now conjecture thou art he.  
Who art the benefactor to our land,  
Who when it would have fallen thou mad'st it stand.  
For as for Samothes, we let him pass,  
Nor do we call to mind what Bruit once was:  
But thee we think to be the very same,  
That didst not only chase but killed'st the game.  
We think thee mortal, subject to the stroke,  
Of sure unpartial death, and to his yoke.  
But yet we hope thy issue will so stretch,  
As that it will even to the world's end reach.  
For we have neither cause to doubt or moan,  
But now may build our house of lime and stone.  
Fulfilled the Prophecy is now at last,  
The fleet of Norway is both come and passed.  
Then frolic England, sport in lawful games,  
Make room to entertain matchless king james,  
Shine bright with bonfires: let Bells ring aloud,  
And of our fortunes let us all be proud?  
Trumpets fill all the air with your high voice,  
And let the Cornets make a sweet shrill noise.  
Mourners put hence your weeds of black: put on  
Garments of Red and Yellow your backs upon.  
Let us no more despair? let's seek to please,  
Our fate is firmer than chance can disease.  
I must confess that in Eliza's prime,  
We never did enjoy a happier time.  
But yet we were uncertain, how our state  
Might after her disease be wronged by fate.  
She was a Maiden Princes, and her life  
Was never fashioned to be christened wife:  
But now( O blessed now) we have a King:  
From whom both grace, peace, hope, and heirs do spring.  
A King like to the Sun, whose course doth stay,  
Darkened to night, but shines again next day.  
Or for his issue's certainty, I dare  
His offsprings firmness to the Moon compare.  
Who having long time gloriously advanced,  
Her choicest brightness, and a great while danced,  
Within the spherie circle of the sky,  
Doth mildly at the last decrease and die.  
Yet not so utterly extinguished,  
As that she is for ever dimmed and dead,  
But she at length at every open view,  
Doth rise again, and former light renew.  
So may thy heirs continue, though by course  
Death crops them one by one, without remorse,  
Yet the one dead, the other shall succeed,  
And as the old doth die, the young shall breed.  
Whose race( if like to thee) may ne'er be done,  
Before there be an end of Moon and Sun.  
Thus much( high Prince) I do prognosticate,  
As one foretold by an assured fate.  
The first beginning, likewise waranst the ending,  
Thy fortunes will be happily extending-  
Eliza died in Winter, left the Spring,  
To entertain( with greater joy) a King.  
At whose arrival, lo the trees do bud,  
Saying our fruits in harvest will prove good:  
The Nightingale doth sing, so chirps the Lark,  
The aged Oaks put on a fresher bark,  
The day grows longer-aged, the night grows old,  
Withering by flourishing is now controlled.  
Look how the Vine who hath a great while drooped,  
Look how the Grass who hath a great while stooped:  
Look how each flower long time withered?  
And look how all these have fresh colours gathered?  
Who only do rejoice to this intent,  
That they might gratulate thy late advent.  
If therefore Plants and birds have watched their season:  
Far much more cause have men which have more reason.  
If God to senseless things such turns appointed?  
Shall not we greet him whom God hath anointed?  
O yes, come let us ring a peal of thanks?  
Setting aside all toyish mimic pranks?  
And let us seriously employ our tongues  
With crying welcomes, singing joyful songs.  
That every syllable may distinctly sound:  
And like an echoes voice again rebound.  
No doubt it is a pleasure to a King:  
To see his subjects welcomes to him sing.  
So( mighty james) do thine, as doth appear  
By all the troops which are assembled here.  
See how in clusters they march through the streets,  
To welcome( loving) thee with loyal greets.  
London grows proud this wise to entertain,  
And thee within her maiden walls contain.  
Look how the English nation thither swarm?  
As like a Hive to keep the Bee from harm.  
The Bee, the matchless Bee, that brings such honey,  
Whose like can ne'er be found for gem nor money.  
He that brings honey to the empty hive:  
By whose whole industry slothful we thrive.  
Which to requite, thy reward is the hearts,  
Of all thy subjects, which their love imparts:  
The aged matron, and the ancient men,  
Do as it were assume their youth again.  
Only to welcome thee, and with one voice  
In love and zeal all jointly to rejoice.  
Yea which is more, the babes by tokens greet thee:  
And as by signs of love in love do meet thee.  
Giving to Majesty his lawful dew:  
As prophesing of gladness to ensue.  
Wherefore hail( worthy King) the end shall prove,  
How much our duty will display our love.  
And for thy care, only our obedience  
Shall be a means to make thee recompense.  
Our tender of thy health, our loyalty,  
Shall show how we adore thy royalty.  
Our long and tedious streets, shall seem but short:  
The length of way shall be beguiled by sport.  
The day in pleasure shall be spent, the night  
In pleasing slumbers summon shall the light.  
So shall thy long breathed journey be repaid  
With sweet delights, and weariness allayed.  
Kind wholesome airs shall wihsper in thine ear,  
And wary guard chase all suspect of fear.  
As sleeps the Lark safe in the hollow ground:  
Void of suspicion ever to be found.  
So shall thy guarders thee from harm protect,  
Vain shall they strive who give cause of suspect.  
The greedy Dog in Aesop vainly snatched at,  
When as the seeming piece of flesh he catched at.  
The foolish cur that at the Moon did lurk:  
Or he that took the sky as a fair mark.  
To shoot at, was deceived, so both in vain,  
Did take an idle and a thankless pain.  
So( honoured Majesty) I think 'twill be,  
With those that aim at such a mark as thee.  
I mean those traitors, who through envies spite,  
When most they fawn, do chiefly fawn to bite.  
And yet when all is done, their own intent,  
Still proves unto their own destruction bend.  
I speak not that I judge or know of any:  
Although the like have happened oft with many.  
But what I speak my duty doth me move,  
And I am linked with a bond of love.  
Who seemed to Darius' more amorous,  
Then Bessus? yet who proved more treacherous?  
Whose love to Caesar ever seemed more sound,  
Then Brutus? yet who gave a deeper wound?  
So often falls it out that dearest friends,  
Be they that most malicious hate pretends.  
Egyptian thieves are said for to embrace men,  
That they with less suspicion might down raze them.  
So Philist's low in hope at length to strangle,  
And they who seem most spruce oft times most wrangle.  
But why stand I upon such points precise,  
When( King) I know thyself art far more wise.  
Experienced how to avoid allures:  
Whose honey courtesy but gall procures.  
I am to fond: yet King suppose my love,  
And inward duty doth these passions move.  
No passions, but integrity, and zeal,  
Tendering by thy welfare the common weal.  
For why? upon thy safety doth depend,  
The public loss, thy loss, thy health our friend.  
Thou art the Sun that melt's our Winter showers,  
The pleasure that mak'st short the tedious hours  
The hope of all our spring, our Authums crop:  
Our falters crutch: our only stay and prop.  
Thy gladness is our joy, thy joy our gladness,  
Thy sorrow is our grief, thy grief our sadness.  
And if thou shouldst miscarry( which far be it,  
That ever any subject live to see it.)  
We likewise then are frustrated, and lost:  
And like a mastless ship amidst waves tossed.  
Thou must be our ship's mast, our sunshines day,  
Our Spring, our authum, and our pleasing May.  
What we delight in, must be to behold,  
The blossom's of thy virtue uncontrolled,  
Thy peaceful government must our chief hopes nourish,  
And like to watered plants under thee flourish.  
Much like to wandering sheep which ran astray,  
From out their limits of their wont way.  
Or like to soldiers that have marched headlong:  
And in disordered troops together throng.  
The first because a shepherd they did lack,  
The last for wanting Captains went to wrack.  
Even so in very like same case should we,  
Run without order, were it not for thee.  
Thou art our kingdoms shepherd, and our guide,  
A breast plate and a captain to our side.  
Now as for Rome, or proud insulting Spain,  
We hold contemptible in high disdain.  
We fear no threatening of our foreign foes,  
But are most ready priest to work their woes.  
Then let us all rejoice, and once again,  
And ever bid james welcome to his reign.  
Then welcome( map of worth) behold my pen,  
Is armed with the greeting tongues of men.  
Who with a lively noise throw up their caps:  
Filling their hearts with joy their hands with claps.  
All cry God save thee. Poets with their quil's,  
To welcome thee, have shown their chiefest skills.  
An on heroic art man, more to grace thee,  
Drawing thy descent, with former Kings doth place thee.  
Another with Encomius doth praise thee,  
And with a Princes meriting trump doth raise thee,  
Another in a soldiers wish doth greet thee.  
Another sends his welcoming look to meet thee.  
Another weeping, yet in tears rejoiced,  
Others in Eligyes laugh when thou art noised,  
Another bids thee welcome in England's name,  
In thy arrival another tells the same.  
Another with great joy doth gladly sing,  
His ave Caesar: or God save the King,  
Another in Melpomenes weeping tears,  
Even at thy name abandons former fears.  
Another cries out against Atropos,  
For sweet Eliza's death, and delia's loss.  
Yet joying in thee, another all to torn,  
Greets thee'n a garment that's by shepherds worn.  
A proper work of learned Poetry?  
Of Oratory: Proase? and Heraldry?  
A rare conceited piece of work no doubt?  
Whose sharp conceit younger conceits doth flout,  
Well he is learned, and were I but able,  
He should eat bread from out Augustus' stable.  
But many worthier Poets more beside,  
With health and happiness may thee betide.  
And limping I come last: amongst the rest,  
Wishing like welcomes to thee with the best.  
Though I unable yet this gives relief,  
To welcome thee assuageth former grief:  
I must confess, my Pen hath took a nap,  
But newly in the Muse's sugared lap.  
The first it dropped was tears, but my reflection,  
Soon gave her weeping notes, a sweet refection.  
Which to regret, the last and least it kept  
To salutations, and no more it wept.  
But being almost dull, amain it cried:  
Hail Kingly james, foes terror, England's pride.   
FINIS.