PLEASANT DIALOGVES AND DRAMMA'S, SELECTED OUT OF LUCIAN, ERASMUS, TEXTOR, OVID, etc. With sundry Emblems extracted from the most elegant jacobus Catsius. As also certain Elegies, Epitaphs, and Epithalamiums or Nuptial Songs; Anagrams and Acrostics; With diverse Speeches (upon several occasions) spoken to their most Excellent Majesties, King CHARLES, and Queen MARY. With other Fancies translated from BEZA, BUCANAN, and sundry Italian Poets.  
By THO. HEYWOOD.  
Aut prodesse solent, aut delectare—  
LONDON, Printed by R. O. for R. H. and are to be sold by Thomas Slater at the Swan in Duck-lane 1637.   

To the Right Honourable Sir HENRY Lord CARY, Baron of Hunsdon, Viscount Rochfort, Earl of DOVER, etc.  
Right Honourable,  
ELaborate Poems have ever aimed at learned Patrons, who valued Books as your best Lapidaries praise jewels, not by their greatness, but their goodness. This is a small Cabinet of many and choice, of which none better than your Noble self can judge, some of them borrowing their lustre from your own virtues, vouchsafe therefore (great Lord) their perusal, being devoted to our sole patronage, whilst the presenter wishing ●nto you and all yours, a long fruition of terre●riall graces here, with the fullness of celestial ●yess hereafter, humbly takes his leave, with that of Catullus to M. Cicero:  
Tanto pessimus omnium poeta,  
Quanto tu optimus omnium patronus.  
Your Lordships in all dutiful observance, THO. HEYWOOD.   

To the Generous Reader.  
REader, of what capacity or condition soever, I present unto thy favourable perusal a Miscellane of sundry strains in Poetry; which me thinks should not come altogether unwelcome to such as affect variety: here thou shalt find choice and selected Dialogues borrowed from sundry Authors, both for the method and matter, pleasant and profitable. Which though I met with in Prose only, yet upon better acquaintance, I have taught to go upon even feet and number.  
For such as delight in Stage-poetry, here are also diverse Dramma's, never before published: Which though some may condemn for their shortness, others again will commend for their sweetness.  
From famous jacobus Catsius, I have extracted Emblems of risk conceit, and excellent expression in the original; Therefore I hope not to be rejected in our native Tongue, howsoever by me but rudely and coursely interpreted.  
Here are moreover diverse speeches, at sundry times, and upon several occasions spoken, either to one or both of their sacred Majesties. And other of the same condition, before other Noble Personages.  
Besides Epithalamiums (or Nuptial Songs) with Funeral Elegies, Epitaphs, Anagrams, etc. Nor doubt I, but in the service of such change of dishes, there may be found among them, though not all to please every man, yet not any of them but may taste some one or others palate. For the better illustration of which. I have prefixed before every particular piece its proper Argument, with Annotations and observations of all such things as may appear difficult or foreign to the ignorant Reader. Which I entreat thee to accept as well in plain iake, as were they curiously insculpt in Copper. Compliment I cannot to only that I take my ●eave; Reader farewell. Read perfectly, examine strictly, but censure charitably.  
Thy, THO. HEYWOOD.   

To his worthy friend the Author, Master Thomas Heywood.  
HEywood, when men weigh truly what thou art,  
How the whole frame of learning claims a part  
In thy deep apprehension; and than see;  
To knowledge added so much industry;  
Who will deny thee the best Palm and Bays?  
And that to name thee, to himself is praise.  
As first, which I must ever first prefer,  
Thy skill in Poëtry, where thou so fare  
Hast go, as none beyond thee, and hast written,  
That after-ages must despair of wit  
Or matter to writ more. Nor art thou less,  
In whatsoever thy fancy will express.  
Thy pen command's all history, all actions,  
Counsels, Decrees, men, manners, States, and factions,  
Plays, Epicediums, Odes, and Lyrics,  
Translations, Epitaphs, and Panegyrics:  
They all do speak thy worth. Nor dost thou teach  
Things mere profane; but thy great Muse does reach  
Above the Orbs; unto the utmost sky,  
And makes transition unto Deity.  
When thou with such high strains detain'st our ears,  
As might become the Angels, or the Spheres.  
What Reader than in justice can decline  
From this assertion? Poets are divine,  
Rapt with a heavenly fire, which is made known  
By not example better than thy own.  
SHOULD. MARMION.   

To the learned Author Master THOMAS HEYWOOD.  
Who can deny but Poets take their birth  
From some thing that's more excellent than earth  
Since those harmonious strains that fill our ears,  
Proclaim their near alliance with the Spheres,  
And shows their Art all Arts as fare exceed  
As doth the fiery-Cane, the weakest Reed.  
That Matter which six lines of Prose rehearse,  
May fitly be contained in one Verse;  
Yea, and so pithily (if well compacted)  
That out of it whole Books may be extracted.  
A Precedent whereof if thou wouldst found,  
I prithee gentle Reader bend thy mind  
To what this little Volume doth contain,  
And sure the fruit will recompense thy pain.  
The subject with the Authors names agreed,  
Who all have left unto Posterity  
Such Noble badges of their learned fame,  
That my weak Pen can not way show the same;  
Therefore do thou, o Heywood, wear the Bays  
As thy just merit many thousand ways.  
For this thy Work, with others heretofore  
Shall honour thee till time shall be not more.  
D. E.   

To my praiseworthy friend Master THOMAS HEYWOOD.  
THy Worth unto the Knowing World is known,  
Let Critics censure others by their own,  
And tinct their foreheads with a purple shame,  
When they shall see thy Works, or hear thy Name,  
Whilst with thy own, thou setst forth others fame;  
Whose lofty Anthems, in our English tone  
Thou-babes singest, and makest them live, though dead & go.  
What barking or untutored Momus than  
Will dare to belch against thy learned Pen?  
Whose worthier Lines, unto their foul disgrace,  
Shall spit defiance in a brazen face;  
And when thou'rt dead, thy poesy shall sing  
Such pleasant strains, whereof the World shall ring;  
And Envies self, in spite of all Assays,  
Shall crown thy Tombstone with eternal Bays.  
S. N.   

The Table.  
THe Dialogue of Erasmus, called Naufragium, Pag. 1  
The Dialogue of Erasmus, called Procus and Puella, Page 16  
The Dialogue of Ravisius Textor, called Earth and Age, p. 38  
A Dialogue from Lucianus Samosatensis, called Misanthropos, or the Man-hater, p. 54  
A Dialogue of the same Author, betwixt jupiter and Ganymede, p. 96  
A third betwixt jupiter and juno, p. 101  
A fourth betwixt jupiter and Cupid, p. 105  
A fifth betwixt Vulcan and Appolo, p. 108  
A sixth betwixt Apollo and Mercury, p. 111  
A seventh betwixt Maia and Mercury. p. 114  
An eighth betwixt jupiter and Vulcan, p. 116  
A ninth betwixt Mercury and Neptune, p. 120  
A tenth betwixt Mausolus and Diogenes, p. 123  
An eleventh betwixt Diogenes and Crates. p. 126  
A twelfth betwixt Charon, Menippus, and Mercury, p. 130  
A thirteenth betwixt Menippus, Aeacus, Pythagoras, Empedocles, and Socrates, p. 133  
A fourteenth betwixt Nireus, Thersites, and Menippus, p. 138  
A Dialogue called Deorum judicium, betwixt jupiter, Mercury, juno, Pallas, Venus, and Paris, p. 140  
A Drama from Ovid, called jupiter and Io, p. 155  
A second from Ovid called Apollo and Daphne, p. 177  
A Pastoral Drama called Amphrisa, or the Forsaken Shepherdess. p 192  
Forty six Emblems interpreted from the most excellent Emblematist, jacobus Catsius. The Argument, A discourse betwixt Anna and Phillis, lordship 203  
Diverse Speeches spoken before their two sacred Majesties, and before sundry other Noble people upon several occasions, p. 231 etc.  
A Mask presented at Hunsdon House, lordship 245  
Prologues and Epilogues upon other occasions, lordship 247  
Funer all Elegies and Epitaphs, p. 250  
Epithalamiums, or Nuptial Songs, p. 260  
Acrostics, p. 202  
Epigrams from Beza, Bucanan, and other Italian and Latin Authers, p. 267  
Cum multis aliis, etc.  
Tabulae Finis.   


The Argument of Erasmus his Dialogue called NAIAGAION, or Naufragium.  
HEre you may read an accurate Narration  
Of dangers incident to Navigation:  
With diverse foolish superstitions used  
●y Mariners, (some not to be excused)  
Here is described a Tempest to the height,  
With casting out of Goods, to case their freight;  
And several humours (to the life expressed)  
Of men in danger, and by sea distressed:  
●ome, to the blessed Virgin call for aid:  
●y others, Vows to several Saints are made.  
But this our Author will approve of none  
To be invoked, but the Great God alone.  The Interlocutors or Speakers, Antonius and Adolphos.  

The DIALOGUE.  Anthon. 
THou tell'st me wondrous things; Is that to sail,  
Where human help so little can prevail?  
Forbidden it Heaven, to come into my thought,  
That ever Wit so dear should be bought.  Adol. 
What hath as yet been spoken are trifles mere,  
If to what I shall speak thou lend an ear.  Anth. 
So much from thee I have already had,  
That I still tremble, and it makes me sad,  
As I had than been present.  Adol. 
Dangers past  
Are unto me of much more pleasing taste:  
That night there happened what much taken away  
All comfort from the Pilot.  Anth. 
What, I pray?  Adol. 
Dark was the night; when by the topmast stand  
(Got thither by the help of feet and hands)  
One of the ship-men, and as from a 
* It is commonly called the Bowland.  loover  
He looked from thence, if so he might discover  
Some part of land: when on the instant, near  
Unto his side was seen a fiery Sphere;  
To Seamen a sad Omen, if it shine  
Single: but twins, they better luck divine:  
And in the times of old they called such too  
Castor and Pollux.  Anth. 
What had they to do  
With Mariners? since those we understand  
Were Champions both, and used to fight on land.  Adol. 
The Poets so would have it. He at the stern  
Casting his eye up did the light discern:  
Who calling said, My Mate (It is a word  
That Sailors interchangeably afford  
To one another) speak, dost thou not see  
The fire above that clings so close to thee?  
Who answered thus: I do, and I pray God  
That unto us it not misfortune bode.  
The flaming Globe strait by the tackles slid,  
And came close to the Pilot.  Anth. 
I! But did  
Not he sink down with fear?  Adol. 
The fright he 'endured,  
They being to such prodigies inur'd.  
There having stayed a while, by the ship sides  
It rolls itself, but there not long abides,  
But leaping from the hatches, vanished so.  
Towards midday the tempest began to grow  
Moore and more raging. Didst thou ever see  
The Alpss?  Anth. 
I have.  Adol. 
Those hills appear to be  
But warts to such sea billows, (if compared:)  
Be judge than, how with us it that time fared;  
How often were we lifted up so high,  
Till to the very Moon we came so nigh,  
To touch it with our fingers. Than again  
So low cast, that the Channel rend in twain,  
To let us down to Hell.  Anth. 
Mad men, not doubt,  
Who leave the land, to seek such dangers out.  Adol. 
The Sailors striving with the Storm some space,  
(But all in vain) the Pilot with a face  
Like ashes, came to us.  Anth. 
And now I fear,  
By his wan colour, some strange mischief near.  Adol. 
I an not more your Pilot now (says he)  
My friends, the Winds command both ship and me:  
Prepare for all extremes, there's now not hope  
Save in our God, not trust in Sail or Rope.  Anth. 
('Twas an hard speech.)  Adol. 
First therefore let us ease  
Our ship (says he )by casting in the seas  
Her weighty lading; for so now command's  
Necessity: It with more safety stands,  
By loss of goods, death present to prevent,  
Than with them perish here incontinent.  
The truth persuades them; Instantly they hoist  
●nto the Main, rich Wares, and Vessels choice,  
And those in plenty.  Anth. 
This a Wrack indeed  
May well be called.  Adol. 
Silence till I proceed.  
Among the rest, a rich Italian there,  
Employed in Embassy, who was to bear  
Some Presents into Scotland, and this Lord  
Had coffers, caskets, and stuffed trunks aboard,  
With plate, rings, jewels, change of garments.  Anth. 
Say,  
Was that man willing to cast all away?  Adol. 
Not: but being asked that question, made reply,  
He with his wealth would live, or with it die;  
And therefore stormed.  Anth. 
What said the Pilot than?  Adol. 
Better it were, of these despairing men,  
That he alone should perish, than (to save  
His proper wealth) all suffer in the wave:  
And therefore told him plainly, But if he  
Unto the general safety would agreed,  
(Need so compelled) that without further plea,  
Him and his wealth they'd toss into the sea.  Anth. 
A very Sailor's speech.  Adol. 
So, forced at last,  
With his own hands his goods away he cast,  
With many bitter curses; much enraged  
With gods and devils, that he had engaged  
Himself to such a barbarous element.  Anth. 
A mere Italians prayer.  Adol. 
Observe th'event:  
(These our free-offrings notwithstanding) neither  
The winds nor waves were sated, but together  
Conspired: Our tackles were asunder blown,  
And our torn sails into the Ocean thrown,  Anth. 
Distress indeed.  Adol. 
The Pilot comes again.  Anth. 
To preach as at the first?  Adol. 
In a sad strain  
He thus salutes us: Friends, as the case stands,  
I wish you would commend you to heaven's hands,  
And so prepare for death. Some who had been  
At sea before, and in that Art well seen,  
Asked him, How long he thought he could maintain  
His ship to live? who briefly said again,  
Not full three hours, (as being than at worst)  Anth. 
Why this was harder doctrine than the first.  Adol. 
Which having said, the Sailors he strait bid  
To cut the cords asunder: which they did.  
And next, To see the mainmast by the root:  
Who instantly apply themselves unto't;  
Which, with the sail and saile-yard, they soon threw  
Into the sea.  Anth. 
Why so?  Adol. 
Because they known,  
Bee'ng torn, a burden they might rather call  
Their sails, than help, (now of not use at all)  
For all their hope was in the helm,  Anth. 
Mean space,  
What did the passengers?  Adol. 
A wretched face  
Of things you now might see: Some than in place  
Begun to sing, Hail Mary full of Grace;  
And the blessed Virgin Mother to implore:  
She, who plain Mary had been called before,  
They now style, The Sea's Star, The Queen of heaven,  
The Lady of the world: Titles not given  
To her in sacred Scriptures.  Anth. 
I indeed  
Never that she at sea was yet could read.  Adol. 
But Venus (I have herded) once taken not scorn  
To have the charge of Sailors, (as seaborn.)  
But thinking she had quite given up her care;  
All their Devotions now directed are  
In stead of her, a mother, and not maid,  
Her that was Maid and Mother, to persuade.  Anth. 
Come now you jest.  Adol. 
Some of them prostrate lie  
Upon the hatches, and for succour cry  
Unto the Storm, and (as had they been mad)  
poured out into the Main what oil they had;  
Flattering the raging billows of the seas,  
As if some angry power they would appease.  Anth. 
What did they say?  Adol. 
OH Sea most merciful,  
OH generous Sea, o Sea most beautiful,  
OH you the most rich Channels of the Deep  
Save us, have mercy, us preserve and keep.  Anth. 
Ridiculous superstition. What the rest?  Adol. 
Their stomaches some disgorged; one in his breast  
Was meditating Vows. An English man  
(I well remember) said, OH if I can  
But get to landlord safe, Pilgrimage I'll frame  
Unto the blessed Maid of Walsinghame;  
And promised golden mountains. Others vowed  
To such a Cross: but that some disallowed.  
And named another in a remote place  
Thence many country's distant. In like case  
They with the Virgin Mary dealt, who reigns  
In sundry Regions: and since need constrains,  
They pray to her, but think they are not herded,  
Unless they name some Temple to her reared.  Anth. 
Vain were such Orisons, since the Saints devil  
In heaven above.  Adol. 
Some said, If they came well  
And safe to shore, Carthusians they would be.  
One promised, If the sea he once could free,  
Bore foot and bore head, naked save his shirt,  
And that of male close to his body gird,  
Nay, begging all the way, vowed, steps he'd tell  
To where Saint james yet life's in Compostell.  Anth. 
Did none think of Saint Christopher?  Adol. 
I herded  
Not without laughter) one to him endeared:  
He in the chief Church of 
* Or Pari  Lutetia stands,  
Moore like a mountain than a man) his hands  
Lift up: who with a voice strep'rous and loud  
That all they in the ship might hear him) vowed  
To set before that Saint a waxed Light  
Big as himself. To whom one that foreright  
Before him sat, (well known to him) replied,  
After he first had jogged him on the side)  
Take heed friend what you promise'; should you cell  
Your whole estate, which is to me known well,  
You cannot make it good. He than in fear,  
Jest him perchance S. Christopher might heart)  
Answered in a low voice, Peace fool be still,  
Thinkest thou my words are suiting to my will;  
●f once I find safe landing may be had,  
I'll of a farthing candle make him glad.  Anth. 
OH stupid brain! Some Hollander?  Adol. 
None such:  
He was of Zeeland sure.  Anth. 
I wonder much,  
None that time of the Apostle Paul did think;  
For he was wracked, and when the ship did sink,  
Got to the shore) who knowing shipwreck best,  
Would soon have helped them in that kind distressed.  Adol. 
Of him there was not mention.  Anth. 
Did they pray?  Adol. 
Yes; and at once some sung, and some did say  
Hail Virgin: others, their Belief: some muttered  
Certain peculiar prayers, as had they uttered  
Soft Magic spells ''gainst danger.  Anth. 
How distress  
Makes men devout? when they think nothing less  
Than of their God, if fortune seem to smile,  
Or of his Saints. But what didst thou the while?  
Vowd'st thou to none of them?  Adol. 
No.  Anth. 
Why?  Adol. 
Because  
Covenants with Saints made, are still with some clause  
After the form of Contract: This I give,  
If thou perform: If at this time I live,  
Than such a thing I'll do; I'll at thy Shrine  
Offer a Taper, if I scape the Brine;  
Or if thou keep'st me, unto Rome I'll go  
On Pilgrimage.  Anth. 
But to none prayd'st thou?  Adol. 
No.  Anth. 
Show me the cause?  Adol. 
I thought, Heaven far extended:  
To any one Saint should I have commended  
My safety, say Saint Peter, who bee'ng near  
Unto the door, most likely was to hear;  
Before he could have left the gate, to find  
where God was, or delivered him my mind,  
I might have perished.  Anth. 
What than didst thou do?  Adol. 
Taken the next course, and did direct unto  
The Father my Devotions, and begun,  
Father which art in heaven, etc. I perceived than,  
None of the Saints could sooner hear, nor any  
Abler to save or help, though they be many.  Anth. 
Did not thy conscience prick thee the mean time  
Remembering with how many an heinous crime  
Thou-babes hadst offended him?  Adol. 
Shall I speak true?  
Part of my confident boldness it withdrew;  
But strait it thus in my conception run:  
Not Father is so angry with his Son,  
But if he spy him in a brook or lake,  
Ready to drown, he'll by the hair him take,  
And pluck him from the danger. 'Amongst the rest,  
A woman who a child had at her breast  
Than sucking, in that fear seemed troubled lest.  Anth. 
And what did she?  Adol. 
Nor clamour loud, nor weep;  
Nor promise' what she never meant to keep:  
Only embraced her infant, softly prayed  
Unto herself, none hearing what she said.  
Mean time the Bark inclining near the shore,  
The Master fearing jest she would be tore  
And split to pieces; her with cables bond  
From helm to the foredeck.  Anth. 
Comfort unsound.  Adol. 
Up than a sacrificing Priest arose,  
Aged sixty years, through doublet and through hose  
His torn shirt seen, (called Adam) who his shoes  
That had not soles) cast of, and begins to unloose  
His wretched habit; bidding all prepare  
Themselves to swim, who of their lives had care.  
And standing on the deck, gins to preach  
Aloud to us, and out of Gerson teach  
Five truths; what profit from Confession grows,  
Wishing we would make ready to dispose  
Ourselves to life or death. Than present there  
Was a Dominican Friar of look austere,  
To whom some few confessed themselves.  Anth. 
But what  
didst thou mean space?  Adol. 
I well perceiving, that  
All things were full of tumult, soon confessed  
Myself to God, ''gainst whom I had transgressed;  
Blaming mine own injustice, and commended  
Myself to him, whom I had most offended.  Anth. 
Hadst thou than perished, whither hadst thou gone?  Adol. 
That I committed unto God alone,  
As most unwilling mine own judge to be:  
And yet a fair hope did still comfort me.  
Whilst these things past, the Pilot came again,  
With his eyes full of tears, and says, In vain  
We strive ''gainst heaven: each man himself prepare;  
The shaken ship in which distressed we are  
Cannot the fourth part of an hour well last,  
At sundry leaks the water pours so fast.  
Soon after he brings news he did descry  
A Chapel afar of: bids us apply  
Our prayers, the small space that the ship still floated,  
Unto that Saint to whom it was devoted:  
When suddenly most part are grovelling thrown,  
Devoutly praying to the Saint unknown.  Anth. 
Had they but named him, he would sure have herded  Adol. 
But that they known not. Than the Pilot steered  
His torn ship that way, ready now to sink,  
(Such quantity of water forced to drink)  
And split she had in pieces in that weather,  
Had not the cables bond her fast together.  Anth. 
'Twas an hard case.  Adol. 
It drawing now towards even,  
Upon the sudden we so far were driven  
Towards the coast, that us the inhabitants spied,  
And seeing our extremes, called out and cry'de;  
And with their hats upon their staff's end, stand  
Pointing to us the safest place to land:  
Than with their arms stretched out, seem to deplore  
Our wretched case, distressed so near the shore.  Anth. 
I long to know what happened.  Adol. 
Our Bark now  
Had taken in so much water, that I vow  
There hardly any difference could be known,  
Because the ship and sea appeared all one.  Anth. 
To the holy Anchor it was time to fly.  Adol. 
And yet small comfort, seeing death so nigh.  
The Sailors hoist the boat, and let it down  
●●to the Sea: than there's a tumult grown,  
●ho should press soon in. Some 'gan to exclaim,  
●rying, Why throng you thus? Be ruled for shame;  
●he boat's but small, and were you not thus rude,  
●ncapable of such a multitude.  
They bid them search, and what came nearest, get  
●o save themselves. When now there was not let,  
●ut every one, that which came next him snatches:  
One lights upon a piece of the torn hatches:  
●n empty barrel he: another takes  
● plank: that man a pole: and none but makes  
●ome shift or other: so themselveses commit  
●nto the sea.  Anth. 
You have not told me yet,  
What of the woman and the child become,  
●he only that was herded not to exclaim.  Adol. 
She got to shore first.  Anth. 
Tell me how that past?  Adol. 
Her to a crooked plank we tied so fast,  
That hardly she could slide thence: in whose hand  
We put a board (such as she might command)  
●n stead of a small oar: than having prayed  
●or her success, as she was thereon laid,  
Exposed her to the waves, and with a spear,  
Thrust her from of the ship, which now was near  
Hide in the sea, her infant she bestowed  
●n her left arm, and with her right hand rowed.  Anth. 
A stout Virago.  Adol. 
When naught else remained,  
One snatches an old Image, blurred and stained,  
Part of it eat with rats, which once presented  
The mother Virgin: and with that contented,  
Gins to swim.  Anth. 
But came the boat to shore?  Adol. 
They were the first that perished, none before;  
For thirty had therein together got.  Anth. 
By what ill chance was that?  Adol. 
'Twas their hard lot;  
For ever they from the ship themselves could free,  
The weak boat split, and sunk immediately.  Anth. 
A sad disaster: But what than?  Adol. 
I cherished  
Others, and had myself like to have perished.  Anth. 
As how?  Adol. 
I stayed till nothing did appear  
Helpful to swim.  Anth. 
Cork had been useful there.  Adol. 
I tell thee Friend, just at that instant space  
I'd rather had a Cork tree to embrace,  
Than a rich golden Candlestick. About  
Looking, to spy what best I could find out,  
I soon bethought me of the poor remain  
Of the split Mast, at which I tugged in vain;  
And therefore called an helper. We combine  
Our double strength, and both to it incline,  
Trusting ourselves to sea; and in that fright  
He by the left part holds: I take the right.  
Thus by the billows tossed, the Predicant, whom  
I named before, just at our backs did come,  
And threw himself upon us: like an hulk  
To us he seemed, being of a mighty bulk.  
Wherewith much troubled, both aloud began call,  
Who is that third who means to drown us all?  
He gently us bespoke, and bade us be  
Of comfort, there was room enough for three.  Anth. 
But wherefore did he leave the ship so late?  Adol. 
He purposed in the boat to try his fate  
With the Dominican Friar; the rest to grace  
Their Orders, willing to afford them place.  
But though they both were in the ship confessed,  
Belike forgetting some word 'amongst the rest,  
They fallen to it again, and somewhat said  
●aying one's hand upon the others head:  
●eane time the boat sunk, by the waves controlled:  
For so much, after, to me Adam told.)  Anth. 
But what of the Dominican become?  
●e, first invoking sundry Saints by name.  
So Adam said) did strip himself to the skin;  
And having left his clotheses behind, leapt in.  Anth. 
What Saints did he invoke?  
●e named (thick,  
●s fast as he could speak) S. Dominick,  
●aint Thomas, and Saint Vincent, and one Peter,  
I know not which) but one she-Saint, with sweeter  
●nd fairer words hee'ntreated; and her name,  
●atherine Senensis, she, it seemed, the same  
To whom he trusted most.  Anth. 
I, but Christ's aid  
implored he not at all?  Adol. 
So the Priest said.  Anth. 
Me thinks he better might have fared that day,  
Had he not cast his holy hood away.  
For being naked like another man,  
●ow could the Saint know the Dominican?  
Touching thyself proceed.  Adol. 
Whilst we were tossed  
Near to the bark, still fearing to be lost,  
Part of the stern than floating, burst his thigh,  
Who held the left part of the mast, whilst I  
Made good the right: who soon his hold let's slip,  
And so was drowned. Into whose place doth skip  
Adam the Priest, repeating a short prayer  
That his soul (than departing) well might far;  
Exhorting me to be of courage bold,  
stretch out my legs, and with my hands keep hold:  
Mean time we drunk much brine out of the Ocean,  
'Twas not a salt bathe only, but salt potion.  
(So Neptune than would have it) for which he  
(Adam I mean) would show a remedy.  Anth. 
And what was that?  Adol. 
Still as he spied the wave  
To come upon us, he himself to save,  
Opposed it with the hind part of his head,  
Keeping his mouth fast shut.  Anth. 
I never read  
Of a more stout old fellow.  Adol. 
Floating long,  
And moving somewhat onward, he bee'ng strong,  
And wondrous tall, says to me, Be of cheer,  
For by my foot I find the ground is near.  
But I that time more timorous and afraid,  
(Hoping not such good fortune) to him said,  
Most certain we are farther from the shore,  
Than to hope land. He now encouraged more,  
Says to me, With my foot I touch the sand.  
Perhaps, said I, some chest driven near the land,  
Wrought thither by the sea. He affirms Not,  
And says, the ground he toucheth with his to.  
We still were tossed, and he again feels shore:  
Do what thou will't (than said )for here not more  
I'll trust myself, but towards land make haste;  
So farewell, for I'll leave thee to thy mast.  
Than watching when the wave begun to break,  
With speed pursues it, and not more would speak:  
But as the billow (shrinking backe) he seas,  
With either hand embracing both his knees,  
He waits for it, drenched over head and ears,  
(As Ducks or sea-Birds) and again appears  
When the waue's past, and runs. Finding his fate  
So well succeed, I thought to imitate  
Him in his course: There stood upon the sands  
Some people with long javelins in their hands,  
Men strong and used to storms; these reached their sta●  
To every faint hand that their succour craves.  
●ho catching hold, some by that means they drawn  
●fe to the shore.  Anth. 
How many of that Crew?  Adol. 
Seven only, of which, two brought to the fire,  
●ut feeling warmth, did instantly expire.  Anth. 
How many were i'th' ship?  Adol. 
Just fifty eight.  Anth. 
OH cruel sea, to ruin such a freight.  
I might with the tenths at most have been sufficed,  
priest's ask not more when they are best advised.  
●ut of so great a number did so few  
Escape the Wrack?  Adol. 
I speak it who best known:  
And there we found a remarked approbation  
Of a most generous and indulgent Nation;  
Who with alacrity and much cheer gave  
●arbor, meat, drink, with all things we could crave.  Anth. 
What country?  Adol. 
Holland.  Anth. 
None I take to be  
Moore generous, fuller of humanity,  
Though gird with barbarous countries. But I fear  
thou'lt not to sea in haste.  Adol. 
Troth not this year,  
Not nor the next: I'll be not more such pray,  
Unless (quite mad) Heaven take my wits away.  Anth. 
For such discourses I so little love them,  
That I had rather hear them far, than prove them.    


The Argument to Erasmus his Dialogue, entitled PROCUS & PVELLA.  
ERASMUS in this Colloquy  
Expresseth what pure modesty  
There aught to be betwixt Man and Maid,  
When there's a firm foundation laid  
Of their affections. His intent  
Was, how to leave a precedent,  
All wanton Toys to intercept,  
That chaste Vows might be made and kept.  
As well the Prince as Peasant hence  
May take advice of consequence.  
It shows how true Love should be placed,  
Forbidding Marriage made in haste:  
And that the Choice is not confined  
Unto the Body, but the Mind.  
His Project further doth imply  
The honour of the Nuptial Tie,  
Which is not lawful to proceed  
Before the Parents first agreed.  
Of the sincere alternate life  
Which aught to be betwixt Man and Wife.  
Next, how their Children should be bread,  
As both by good Example led,  
And Precept taught. What joy, what care  
The Good and Bad to Parents are.  
Wedlock with Single life compared,  
I, and preferred in some regard.  
That in the choice of any Bride  
IT is Reason aught to be the Guide,  
And not Affection. here's commixed  
Sport, with Philosophy: betwixt,  
Various discourse. The matter's ground  
Worthy an Author so renowned.  The Speakers, PAMPHILUS and MARY.  

The DIALOGUE.  Pam. 
Hail to thee, o thou Cruel, who canst vaunt  
Of nothing else save iron and Adamant.  Mar. 
Hail to thee too (at length) o Pamphilus,  
●ow, and as often as thou shalt please: but thus  
Therefore You should salute me, know I not,  
●eemes to me my name you have forgot.  
●●ria I an called.  〈◊〉. 
Hadst thou thy right,  
●ou Martia hadst been named.  〈◊〉. 
I cannot fight,  
Or know I what Mars means: Pray wherefore than  
●●ke you me with that murderer of men?  〈◊〉. 
Because I hold thee more obdurate far,  
● thirsting blood, than is the god of War.  
skills for sport, (but such as he doth hate)  
● thou thy Lovers, (Cruel and ingrate.)  〈◊〉. 
Good words I pray; to make me better skilled.  
tv me the strage of those whom I have killed?  
where's the blood?  〈◊〉. 
One Corpse liveless and cold  
●ou look'st upon when thou dost me behold.  Mar. 
What do I hear? Did any ever know  
A dead man (like thee) both to speak and go?  
Should not more terrible Ghosts to me appear,  
Trust me I never should be strooke with fear.  Pa. 
Thou-babes jest'st with me, and mean time strik'st me dead  
And by degrees I'm hourly massacred,  
Worse than if thou with steel shouldst pierce my breast  
For now with lingering death I an oppressed.  Mar. 
How many childing women with wet eyes  
Were present to lament your obsequys?  Pam. 
And yet my paleness argues (to my cost)  
I an more bloodless than a walking Ghost.  Mar. 
And yet that paleness hath a violets hue:  
You so look pale, as we in Summer view  
The ripening Cherry, and your cheek is died  
Like the Autumn Grape that's purpled on one side.  Pam. 
In soothe you do not well to jeer and flame  
Me, knowing in what wretched case I an.  Mar. 
If thou believest me not, there's a glass by,  
Reach it, and that will speak as much as I  
Not glass I wish, not Mirror can allow,  
Save that in which I do behold me now.  Mar. 
What mirror's that you speak of?  Pam. 
Your clear eyes.  Mar. 
you're the same Sophister, and still so wise  
As you were ever: but I pray make't plain,  
How you are liveless? and by me how slain?  
Or is't the use of Shadows to take meat?  Pam. 
They do (like me) but taste not what they eat.  Mar. 
What is their food?  Pam. 
Leeks, Mallows, Pulse.  Mar. 
Indeed?  
But sometimes you on Cock and Partridge feed.  Pam. 
But to my palate are as much default  
As should I feed on salads without salt.  Mar. 
OH miserable man! yet by this light  
To me Y'appeare fat, fresh, and in good plight:  
But can the Dead discourse?  Pam. 
Yes, they may speak,  
But with a voice (like me) low, faint, and weak.  Mar. 
And yet (but lately) when revenge you vowed  
Upon your Rival, you spoke shrill and loud.  
But tell me further, as the Shadows talk,  
Are they (like you) apparelled? Can they walk?  
Or do they sleep?  Pam. 
They do, such is their fate:  
Nay more than that, sometimes subagitate  
After their kind.  Mar. 
You trifle finely now:  Pam. 
But will you in your judgement yield and bow,  
If it by Achillcan proofs be tried,  
That I an dead, and you the homicide?  Mar. 
Far be that Omen from us: But proceed  
With that your Sophism.  Pam. 
First than 'tis agreed,  
death's nothing but the absence of the Soul  
From the frail body: (none can this control)  
And that you'll grant.  Mar. 
Well.  Pam. 
That which you agreed,  
you'll not recall hereafter.  Mar. 
IT shall not be.  Pam. 
you'll not deny, That such as take a life  
From any other, kill?  Mar. 
'tis without strife.  Pam. 
you'll likewise yield to that approved long since  
By Authors, such as not man can convince,  
Namely, That from the body the soul moves,  
And is not where it life's, but where it love's.  Mar. 
Therein th'advantage you of me have got;  
Pray make't more plain, I understand it not.  Pam. 
In that I'm most unhappy, since I see  
You are not alike sensible with me.  Mar. 
Than make me so.  Pam. 
You might with like pretence  
Bid me to teach the Adamant to have sense.  Mar. 
I an a Maid, not stone.  Pam. 
And yet most sure,  
Than the hardest Adamant you're more obdure,  Mar. 
Well, recollect yourself.  Pam. 
(Though to be 'admired)  
All that with divine Raptures are inspired.  
'tis said, nor hear, nor smell, nor see, nor feel,  
Although you wound them with transpiercing steel.  Mar. 
So I have herded.  Pam. 
Know you the cause?  Mar. 
Not I:  
Explain it you who read Philosophy.  Pam. 
Because the soul's in heaven, when't doth affect,  
And absent from the flesh in that respect.  Mar. 
What than?  Pam. 
What than? thou Cruel? why this makes it plain,  
Thou-babes art the Murderess: I the man new slain.  Mar. 
where's than thy soul?  Pam. 
Why where it love's?  Mar. 
But who  
Hath taken it from thee? Wherhfore sigh'sts thou so?  
Speak freely, and unchecked?  Pam. 
One cruel, yet  
She whom in death I never shall forget.  Mar. 
YE are witty: But (my rare Philosopher)  
Why likewise take you not a soul from her,  
Repaying like with like?  Pam. 
Nor think it strange;  
Nothing could prove more happy than such change,  
And make me more essentially blessed,  
Than mine in hers, if hers in mine would rest.  Mar. 
Shall I have leave (as thou but late with me)  
That I may play the Sophister with thee?  Pam. 
The Sophistress.  Mar. 
Can it with probability be said,  
That the same body is alive and dead?  Pam. 
But not at the same time.  Mar. 
The soul confine,  
The body's dead, nor canst thou call it thy.  Pam. 
I grant.  Mar. 
Nor quickens but when 'tis in place.  Pam. 
Well, be it so.  Mar. 
Speak than, how stands the case?  
That being where it life's, in former state,  
It keeps the body, whence it shifted late;  
Or where it elsewhere lives, if it give breath,  
How can it (whilst it life's) be taxed of death?  Pam. 
In Sophistry I see well skilled you are,  
Yet can I easily evade this snare,  
The Soul which doth the living body sway,  
unproperly (me thinks) title you may  
● soul, when those that do the men control,  
●re truly some small relics of the soul,  
●nd nothing else. As when you take a Rose,  
●nd smell to it, howeuer you dispose  
●f the flower after: being gone again,  
●he sent thereof will on your hand remain,  Mar. 
I see they only shall lost labour win,  
●ho seek to catch an old Fox in a gin:  
●t there is one thing more that I demand,  
●nd I from you would gladly understand;  
●●th not he act, that's stained with murder's gilt?  
●d suffer not all such whose bloods are spilt?  Pam. 
Most true.  Mar. 
How comes it than, when as the Wooer  
This case may be said to be the doer,  
●● she that's wooed, the Patient (which is plain,  
●● stiffly to oppose it were but vain)  
that's beloved, not such intent pursuing,  
Should not be that? he cause of his own ruin.  Pam. 
Quite contrary: he (we see daily proved)  
Suffer, who love's: she acts that is beloved.  Mar. 
The (a) Areopagitas (Grammar-skiled)  
In this cannot evince me.  Pam. 
you're self-willed:  
Yet shall (b) the Amphictriones by Logic do't.  Mar. 
there's one doubt, prithee answer me unto't;  
Whether is this your love free, or constrained?  Pam. 
Most willingly I love, though thus disdained.  Mar. 
Since not to love, men likewise have freewill,  
Who ever love's, doth aim himself to kill:  
And the indictment well against him laid,  
'Tis great injustice to accuse the Maid.  Pam. 
She is not said the Lover to have slain,  
Because beloved, but not to love again.  
For all such people may be said to slay,  
Who can preserve, and will not when they may.  Mar. 
Say a young man unlawfully should dote  
Upon a Vestal, from the world remote;  
Or cast his eye upon another's wife:  
Must these lie prostrate, to preserve his life?  Pam. 
But where this young man his affection vows,  
The act both Law and Piety allows,  
And yet is slain. But if that murder he  
A sin that doth appear so sleight to thee.  
I can of Witchcraft challenge thee.  Mar. 
OH fie!  
Witchcraft? Forbidden it you blessed Powers on hie:  
Wouldst thou make me a Circe's?  Pam. 
I divine,  
Thou-babes art worse far, because a Bear or Swine  
I'd rather be, than as thou seest me now,  
Senseless and without life.  Mar. 
Pray tell me how,  
Or by what kind of Witchcraft do I kill?  Pam. 
By fascination.  Mar. 
Is it than thy will  
● turn my noxious eyes from thee?  Pam. 
Not so,  
●ut rather let them still devil here.  Mar. 
Fie no.  
● in mine eyes there be effascination,  
●ow comes it there is not such alteration  
●n others I behold? Now I divine,  
●he witchcrafts not in mine eyes, but in thy.  Pam. 
Is't not enough, thy vowed friend to transperse,  
●ut thou will't still insult upon his hearse?  Mar. 
OH pleasant dead man, that can talk so free:  
●ut I pray speak, When shall thy funeral be?  Pam. 
Sooner than thou dost deem, (I an afraid)  
Unless thou suddenly afford'st me aid.  Mar. 
Can I work such a wonder?  Pam. 
Thou-babes mayst do  
A greater act, and with small labour too,  
restore the Dead to life.  Mar. 
Had I the weed  
Called (c) Panaces.  Pam. 
Of Simples there's not need:  
Only repay my love, that's voided of lust,  
(Than which, what thing more easy, or more just)  
●here's nothing else can thee of murder clear.  Mar. 
But at what bar shall I be called to appear?  
Before the Areopagitas?  Pam. 
Not,  
But at the bar of Venus.  Mar. 
Those that know  
That goddess, say she's placable.  Pam. 
So ye'haue herded;  
●ut there is none to be more dread and feared.  Mar. 
Carrieth she lightning?  Pam. 
Not.  Mar. 
Or doth she bear  
A Trident?  Pam. 
Neither.  Mar. 
Doth she use a spear?  Pam. 
Not any: but she's goddess of the seas.  Mar. 
I do not use to sail.  Pam. 
But more than these;  
She hath a Boy.  Mar. 
His age can none affright.  Pam. 
But he's perverse, revengeful, and of might.  Mar. 
What can he do to me?  Pam. 
What can he? All  
The gods forbidden, that you should prostrate fall  
Beneath his fury: loath would I presage  
Ill unto her, to whom myself I'engage.  Mar. 
I an not superstitious, speak thy mind.  Pam. 
I shall: If thou hereafter provest unkind,  
Or shalt appear so peevish or so fond  
To one whose love with thy may correspond:  
Should such a suit to Venus be commenced  
By her the Boy would be so much insenc'd,  
To aim a shaft in (e)) Styptic poison dipped,  
By which thy hard breast on the sudden ripped,  
It shall besot thee on some sordid Swain,  
Which shall thy love repay with cold disdain.  Mar. 
An horrid punishment thou talk'st of, I  
A thousand times had rather wish to die,  
Than perditly to'affect one base and vile,  
And he his heart towards me not reconcile.  Pam. 
Yet of a Virgin subject to like fate  
There hath been known a sad example late.  Mar. 
What place?  Pam. 
Aurelia.  Mar. 
Since how many years?  Pam. 
How many months you would say, Still appear  
The lamentable ruin, and the fame  
I loud and frequent.  Mar. 
Speak, what was her name?  
Why dost thou pause?  Pam. 
I know her even as well  
●s I do thee.  Mar. 
Than why dost thou not tell  
What her name is?  Pam. 
'tis for the Omens sake.  
Which doth not please me: I wish she could take  
●ome other name upon her. You may gather  
What hers is, by your own.  Mar. 
Who was her father?  Pam. 
A man of quality, and one that life's  
●mongst the Lawyers, unto whom he gives  
Not common lustre.  Mar. 
I an now ambitious  
●o know what his name is.  Pam. 
he's called Mauritius:  Mar. 
But his syrname?  Pam. 
Aglaius.  Mar. 
Life's her mother?  Pam. 
Not, but of late changed this life for another.  Mar. 
But of what sickness died she?  Pam. 
Wouldst thou know?  
●f sorrow, that her child was shipwrecked so.  
●er father too, of valour proved and tried,  
●id little want but of conceit had died.  Mar. 
How was her mother styled, pray tell me true?  Pam. 
I will: Sopbronia: one that none but known.  
●ut what mean all these questions? do you think  
speak a thing that's forged?  Mar. 
It cannot sink  
●to my head: you rather may suspect  
●ur fex for that, since fables we affect.  
●t say, what happened to her than?  Pam. 
The Maid  
Was born in honest place, as I than said,  
Of happy dower, and amiable feature:  
Why should I hold you long? She was a creature  
Fit for a Prince's bed; and sought by one  
Than every way her equal: there was none  
Moore meriting.  Mar. 
How called?  Pam. 
The Omen doth offend: yet thus  
Receive his name, he was called Pamphilus:  
Who though he proved all possible ways to win her,  
Yet save disdain, when he found nothing in her,  
Grief wasted him away: when she soon after  
Doted upon a Groom composed for laughter;  
Whom you might rather call an Ape than Man  Mar. 
What is't you say?  Pam. 
So poorly, that I can  
Scarce give thereof expression.  Mar. 
She so fair,  
To dote on one deformed?  Pam. 
Thin his hair,  
Besides, disordered and vnkembd, his crown  
Picked, made steeple-wise, and overgrown  
With scurf and dandruff; bald he was beside,  
Extremely squint-eyed, and his nostrils wide  
And bending upward, with a mouth most spacious,  
His teeth both gagged and furred, his tongue ungracious  
Stammering at every word; a scabbed chin,  
And easily seen, because his beard was thin;  
Crookt-backt, gow-bellied, bending at the knee  
His legs.  Mar. 
Thersites thou describest to me.  Pam. 
Nay more; They say he hath but one ear lost.  Mar. 
Perhaps the t'other was in war bereft.  Pam. 
Most sure 'twas lost in peace.  Mar. 
Such an affront  
what's he dared give him?  Pam. 
Now I think upon't,  
was the hangman.  Marinell 
Notwithstanding this,  
●●rhaps what in his feature is amiss,  
●s substance may make good.  Pam. 
But he's not better  
●●an a mere Bankrupt, one that is a debtor  
●● his own soul, and he hath pawned it often.  
●nd yet she that's so tender, smooth, and soft,  
●oth with this Monster bosom, drink, and eat;  
●ay, at his churlish hands is often times beaten.  Mar. 
A wretched tale, if truly understood.  Pam. 
And yet so 
* Venus.  Nemesis hath thought it good.  
●ost true it is, nor could the goddess long  
●efer due vengeance for the young man's wrong.  Mar. 
Than such a monster of a man to brook,  
rather wish here to be thunderstruck.  Pam. 
Than let not Nemesis be justly moved,  
provoke her not, love where thou art belo'vd.  Mar. 
Would that suffice, with all my soul I'd do't.  Pam. 
Speak not the word, unless thou stand unto't.  
● wish moreover, That your love may be  
●asting, and only proper unto me.  
A wife, not mistress, I have now in chase.  Mar. 
I do not doubt it: yet in such a case,  
When as our vows continued with our fate,  
Behoves us long time to deliberate.  Pam. 
I have long enough considered.  Mar. 
Jest you err,  
Take heed, for Love's but a bad Counsellor,  
And as they say, he's blind.  Pam. 
Blind love I scorn;  
But that love seas, which is of judgement born.  
Thou-babes dost not therefore seem to me so fair,  
Because I love thee; but I therefore dare  
To love thee, since thou art as thou appear'st.  Mar. 
And yet beware how you esteem me dearest:  
When you pull on your shoe you best may tell  
In what part it doth chiefly pinch you.  Pam. 
Well,  
Dices must be cast for that, I and the rather,  
Because by many Auguries I gather.  
Things better may succeed.  Mar. 
An Augur too?  Pam. 
I an.  Mar. 
But what can your sooth-saying do?  
See you the night-Crow fly?  Pam. 
'Thad been in vain;  
She only fly's to such as have not brain.  Mar. 
Or did you see two Turtles take their flight  
Either upon the left hand or the right?  Pam. 
Tush these are toys: yet one thing I have seen,  
And long time marked; The goodness that hath been  
Derived unto you, nor doth it foretell  
Any bad Omen, to be born so well;  
Nor foreign unto me were their conditions,  
Or with how many wholesome admonitions  
Thy education from the first hath been,  
With fair examples free from sight of sin.  
"And better 'tis (the Dowrre to adorn)  
" To have one well instructed, than well born.  
There is another Augury beside:  
My Ancestors (I speak it not in pride)  
Are not of meanest rank, and in times passed  
With thy made league, which to this day doth last.  
And that, not vulgar, from our cradles we  
Have known each other; but to disagree  
Were never known: there is a parity  
In our two years; in the nobility,  
Richeses, and honour of our parents. Moore,  
(Which in this match I should have placed before)  
Your sweet endowments and behaviour rare  
Did in all points with my condition square:  
But whether mine with yours have suited well  
In correspondence, that I cannot tell.  
These are the Birds which I observed to fly,  
Predicting only by their Augury.  
And these presage a marriage to ensue,  
Happy and blessed, nay always seeming new.  
Unless from your most delicate warbling throat  
Should now proceed some harsh vnpleasing noar  
To cross my hopes.  Mar. 
Say, What song do you wish?  Pam. 
I will begin, now answer you to this,  
'tis but two words, and they soon learnt; I an thy:  
Now echo unto me, and sing, Thou-babes mine.  Mar. 
'tis a short song, and hath as short a theme,  
And yet it bears a long (f) Epiphoneme.  Pam. 
What matters it how long, so it be sweet.  Mar. 
And yet I should be loath, as we now meet,  
That I to any motion should consent,  
Of which perhaps in time you may repent.  Pam. 
OH cease to bode us ill.  Mar. 
I may grow strange,  
When age or sickness shall my beauty change.  Pam 
Crazed or in health, thou shalt to me be one,  
Equal in both, so dear unto me none.  
gaze not on this building, rare and near;  
The guest within I love.  Mar. 
What guest Pentreat?  〈◊〉. 
Thy mind, whose splendour with thy years doth grow.  Mar. 
He had need of more than (g) Lynceus eyes, that so  
Can through so many roofs at once espy.  Pam. 
Thy mind by mine I see perspicuously.  
To add to these, we in our children may,  
●s we wax old, grow younger every day.  Mar. 
I, but Virginity mean time is lost.  Pam. 
Tell me, if you yourself had laid great cost  
Upon an Orchard, you would think it sin,  
Should nothing else but bore flowers grow therein:  
Had you not rather (all the flowers bee'ng cropped)  
To see the trees full branches underpropt,  
Laden with ripe fruit?  Mar. 
OH, you argue fine.  Pam. 
Or answer me: To see a drooping Vine  
Fallen, and there putrifying where 'tis laid?  
Or see one by her own kind clasp stayed;  
And round about some fair grown Elm to run,  
Whilst her full clusters ripen ''gainst the Sun?  
Which is the goodlier sight?  Mar. 
Now answer me:  
Which of the two sights had you rather see:  
A milk white Rose still shining in its thorn:  
Or cropped, and in some dirty bosom worn,  
To loose her fair leaves?  Pam. 
As I understand,  
That Rose is happier, gathered by the hand,  
And withers, after it doth both delight  
The nose with the sweet smell, the eye with sight.  
Rather than that which gives not more content,  
Than to the Brier forfeit both leaves and sent.  
It grew for use, first to be gathered, than  
To whither after So the wine that men  
At merry meetings jovially down pour,  
Is happier far, than what (undrunke) grows sour.  
Nor is the Virgin flower maturely grown,  
Blasted as soon as cropped. Some I have known,  
Before their marriage languish and look sickly,  
Who after congress have recovered quickly,  
As if they had but than begun to spring.  Mar. 
And yet Virginity (you knows a thing)  
Gracious and plausible to all.  Pam. 
'tis true,  
Than a young Virgin, nothing to the view  
Moore grateful: but what object can there be  
●orse, than an old and wrinkled maid to see?  
●nlesse thy mother had let fall her flower,  
●hy blossom had not flourished at this hour.  
●nd if our future marriage (as I hope)  
Do not prove barren, we shall than have scope,  
Though that Virginity be lost and go,  
To yield the world a many for that one.  Mar. 
And yet pure chastity's a thing (they say)  
To God most grateful.  Pam. 
And I therefore pray,  
he'll sand me a chaste Virgin to my wife,  
With whom to lead a chaste unquestioned life:  
And by that means shall grow the greater Tie,  
Of minds, than bodies; so shall you and I  
Get to the public weal, to Christ beget,  
Than how far distant is this wedlock set  
From true Virginity: it may so fall,  
That we in time may prove as conjugal  
As joseph lived with Mary. Mean time we  
Shall practise betwixt ourselves a chastity,  
To whose sublimity none can come near,  
Upon the sudden.  Mar. 
What is this I hear?  
Must chastity be violated, and  
Than after learnt?  Pam. 
What else? (Pray understand)  
As when by drinking of a lesser draught,  
We, by degrees, abstemiousnesse are taught:  
In this affair with us so stands the state.  
Which of the two hold you more temperate;  
He at a full and furnished table placed,  
And of not tempting delicate will taste;  
Than he, removed from all that might accite,  
Or any way provoke his appetite?  Mar. 
I hold him of a temperance far more great,  
Who, when beset with dainties, will not eat.  Pam. 
In case of Chastity which stand you for?  
Him that hath made himself an Eunuch; or  
One that is able bodied, strong, and sound,  
And yet in whom there's not intemperance found?  Mar. 
Upon the last I dare bestow the Bays;  
On the first, madness, and not other praise.  Pam. 
All such as by the strictness of their Vow,  
Not matrimonial Contract will allow,  
What do they else but geld themselves?  Mar. 
You say't.  Pam. 
It is not virtue, not to copulate.  Mar. 
How is it not?  Pam. 
Observe me: If it were  
A virtue in itself, not to cohere;  
It must be than a vice to have congress.  
But that to be most lawful we may guess,  
By mutual consocietie. Again,  
Marriage is honourable.  Mar. 
Make it more plain,  
Why you infer this?  Pam. 
Since so often it falls:  
As, to the loving wife the husband calls  
For due benevolence; it only being  
For issues sake.  Mar. 
But say there's disagreeing,  
When it proceeds from wantonness and lust;  
Than, to deny him, is't not right and just?  Pam. 
Rather admonish and entreat him fair;  
That you may do: howeuer, bond you are  
To yield to him, being instant. In that strain  
Scarce hear I husbands of their wives complain.  Mar. 
But liberty is sweet.  Pam. 
Yet further hear;  
Virginitie's a weighty load to bear.  
But I thy King, and thou my Queen shalt be;  
we'll rule and reign in our own family:  
●an that appear to thee a servitude?  Mar. 
But I have often herded marriage, by the rude  
●nd Vulgar, called an Halter that fast ties.  Pam. 
All those that sacred marriage so despise,  
●re of an halter worthy. This decide:  
●● not thy Mind unto thy Body tied?  Mar. 
It seems to be so.  Pam. 
Even just as you see  
Bird incage'd; whom ask to be set free,  
●e will deny't: and wherefore? Can you tell?  
because her bondage doth content her well.  Mar. 
Our means are but indifferent.  Pam. 
Therefore more  
●●fe. The best way than to increase our store,  
your good housewifery at home, whilst I  
broad will use my utmost industry.  Mar. 
But many children still bring many cares.  Pam. 
And many pleasures too: I have known heirs,  
or all the troubles and uncessant fears,  
●he cost and charge that in their tender years  
●hey have put their parents to; being grown men,  
●ave paid them backe with double use again.  Mar. 
A miserable thing it were, I vow,  
●o have had children, than to loose them.  Pam. 
Now,  
●e you not childless? But at not good rate,  
● doubtful things thus ill you ominate.  
●hich wish you rather to your lot might fall,  
● born to die, or not be born at all?  Mar. 
Why of the two, born (as I an) to die,  Pam. 
So much more wretched is that Orbitie  
●●d deprivation, which yet never had,  
● ever shall have issue; (to make glad)  
they more happy are, born to the earth,  
●an they, nor born, nor ever to have birth.  Mar. 
But who are they that are not, nor shall be?  
Nay hear me yet a little further: He  
Who human frailties shall refuse to bear,  
(To which even all men while they sojourn here,  
Are equally obnoxious; keep the State,  
Or be they low degreed) must yield to Fate.  
But as for thee, let come what can betid;  
For thou shalt bear but half, I will divide  
The burden with thee: nay, the greater share  
I'll cast on mine own shoulders, (in my care)  
But so, that in each joyful accident  
Doubled shall be thy pleasure in th'event.  
If aught disastrous; my society may  
Take (of the grief) the greatest part away:  
And for yourself (did but the Fates so please)  
I wish on me not greater joy might seize,  
Nor would I further happiness desire,  
Than in thy sweet embraces to expire.  M. 
That which by Nature's common course doth chance  
You men digest with easiest countenance.  
But I see with some parents how it fares,  
In whom their child's manners breed more cares,  
Than can their deaths.  Pam. 
But please you be content,  
It lies in us that danger to prevent.  Mar. 
As how?  Pam. 
I'll make it plain; because we see  
Never bad Fruit proceed from a good Tree,  
As touching the condition, Nor is it read,  
That ravenous Kites of gentle Doves are bread.  
Let us first study goodness; than provide,  
That from the milk we may their youth so guide,  
By holy precepts and good admonitions,  
That we may rectify their bad conditions:  
'tis of great consequence, what is infused  
Into a Vessel when it first is used.  
A●de to the rest, in our domestic state,  
example's, such as they may imitate.  Mar. 
'tis hard you speak.  Pam. 
Not wonder, because fair;  
●d that's some reason why so hard you are,  
●t the more difficult it seems to be,  
will ask from us the greater industry.  Mar. 
Me of a pliant mettle you shall find;  
●● than you cast and shape me to your mind.  Pam. 
Pronounce three words in the interim.  Mar. 
'Tis small pain;  
●● words once past, fly never backe again.  
●● give you counsel, and consider of it,  
●hich may not doubt redound to both our profit.  
●ic to you our parents to this match,  
●●ey once agreed, we would make quick dispatch.  Pam. 
You would have me, the bush to beaten about,  
●en in three words you may resolve this doubt.  Mar. 
Whether I can, is yet to me unknown,  
cause I an my parents, not mine own:  
other did Contracts in times past proceed,  
●esse by the Elders they were first agreed.  
● howsoever, I presume, betwixt us  
is match will prove the more auspicious,  
●e casual too, to both, and much more sweet.  
●y our parents free consents we meet.  
● move them in't, your office 'tis, you know,  
●use in me it comely would not show:  
●ginitie love's to be forced; maids still,  
●t they give freely, grant against their william  
Before I move them, shall I thus indent;  
I presume I have your free consent?  
Thou-babes hast, my Pamphilus, than be of cheer.  
you're now to me religiously dear.  
But your own voice I'd wish you still suspend,  
ever begin, consider first the end.  
Do not Affection unto Counsel call,  
But summon Reason, which should govern all:  
For what Affection sways is apt to vary,  
And is (indeed) not more than temporary:  
But that which Reason dictates, be thou sure,  
Is permanent, and ever shall endure.  Pam. 
How sweetly play you the Philosopher?  
And I shall not way from your counsels err.  Mar. 
It shall not much repent you. But again,  
There is one doubt that much distracts my brain.  Pam. 
Now let all scruples vanish.  Mar. 
Is't your will  
I marry to a dead man?  Pam. 
I live still,  
Revived by you.  Mar. 
The scruple is removed;  
And now at length, farewell my best Beloved.  Pam. 
Be that your care.  Mar. 
I wish you a glad night.  
Whence came that deep suspire?  Pam. 
From not affright.  
A glad night did you say? Now as I live,  
What you last wished, would you had will to give.  Mar. 
It is not fit that too much haste be made,  
For yet you see your harvest's in the shoulder-blade.  Pam. 
Shall I bear nothing from you?  Mar. 
This sweet-Ball,  
Take it to cheer your heart.  Pam. 
A kiss withal.  Mar. 
By not means, since to bring thee, I desire,  
A chastity unblemished and entire.  Pam. 
Can that detract from modesty?  Mar. 
Desist:  
Or would you I by others should be kissed?  Pam. 
Reserve them than, as these you solely own  
To me and to my use.  Mar. 
I'll keep them so:  
●et I could tell you of another cause  
Wherhfore I dare not kiss.  Pam. 
Speak't without pause.  Mar. 
You say, your whole soul, or the greater part  
● fled into my body; and your heart  
emptied of vital heat, (or little there  
remaining still) it therefore is my fear,  
●est by a kiss, the little which is left,  
●drawing, you be quite of life bereft.  
●ut take this hand, symbol of that affection  
●hich mutually confirms our free election.  
●o once again farewell: be for my sake  
careful (I entreat) in that you undertake.  
●ean time I'll pray, what yet remains undone,  
●ay in a fair and prosperous course be run.    


The Argument of the Dialogue betwixt EARTH and AGE.  
IN EARTH and AGE is to the life expressed,  
How bad all Men are, when they are at best:  
How frail, how fading, and in their greet'st glory  
Unsettled, wretched, vain, and transitory.  
It shows all Learning, Beauty, Youth, and Strength,  
All Pomp, all Wealth to nothing comes at length:  
Not Statue, Structure. Trophy, so sublime,  
Which is not quite lost and defaced by Time.  
OH who can than our common 
* EAR●  I arent blame,  
Since all things she produceth that have name,  
As they have birth from her still-teeming womb,  
So the same place is likewise made their tomb.  
Not wonder than her grief so far exceeds,  
Since she is forced to bury all she breeds.   

The DIALOGUE.  Earth. 
what's he so many tongues can m● low,  
As he had eyes who watch:  
(a) Pharian Cow?  
So many mouths to me who's he can give,  
As Fame reports the (b) Sibyls years did live?  
●ad I as many words my thoughts to express,  
●s (by the (c) Ascraean Poet) we may guess,  
●he ancient gods lived days? Had I beside,  
●s many brazen throats open and wide,  
●s Xerxes shot darts, (after fight begun)  
Whose number from the earth shadowed the Sun?  
●o many rivulets of tears what's he  
●●an to mine eyes infuse, as was by thee  
●●rus (if we may trust antiquity)  
●et into Ganges drops, thereby to breed  
●ry waste unto that ((d)) Channel drowned his steed?  
Who can my clamorous words supply with sorrow?  
●o many deep suspires where shall I borrow;  
●s Valiant Roman Spirits (scorning to yield)  
●ell in one fatal day at (e) Canna's field?  
OH my great grief, which in the height appears,  
Not to be calmed with words, nor washed with tears.  
When (f) Phaeton fallen from the Sun's bright throne,  
●ow did his mournful sisters him bemoan?  
Who from their rough rinds where they be enclosed,  
Weep precious Amber still. Phoebus, opposed  
'Gainst (g) Niobe, (her children having slain)  
OH how she still in marble doth complain?  
What sorrow, musical Orpheus, didst thou feel,  
When thy Eurydice, stung in the heel,  
●nd dying, born unto the infernal shade,  
Thou-babes with thy harp through hell free passage made?  
What more than madness did corrode thy breast,  
Andromache? when (Hector laid to rest)  
●hou saw'st thy (i) son, the hope of Troy and thee,  
Dropped from a tower: what sorrow might this be?  
●●'n such was thy, (k) Aegaeus, to behold  
Thy sons black sails returning: which so cold  
crook to thy heart, thou thinking Theseus slain,  
●eapt from a rock, and gav'st the sea thy name.  
The torment of a mighty passion thou  
(l) jocasta felt, to see thy two sons vow  
Their mutual ruins by revengeful Arms?  
Sad (m) Daedalus, what pitiful alarms  
Were in thy breast given, to behold from hie,  
Thy son with his faint wings drop from the sky?  
There to be food for fish, and to add  
A name unto that sea, it never had?  
Or should I speak how much (n) Progne lamented  
Her husband's spowse-breach? or how discontented  
(o) Anthonoë was after Actaeon torn?  
Or of (p) Antigone, sad and forlorne,  
Leading blind Oedipus o'er rocks along?  
Within the compass of my passionate song  
Bring all the torments of the former age,  
Gyves, Manacles, and Fetters, all that Rage  
Or Fury can inflict; want, hunger, thirst,  
Whip, post, or prison, labour, or what's worst,  
The melancholy dungeon, gallows, rack,  
The fork or stake, what on the homicides backe  
Law can impose, the Traitor or the Thief;  
All these are toys, if rated at my grief.  
By stings of Serpents, or their teeth, to die;  
Rough winter gusts, where Boreas blows most hie:  
A thousand wounds were nothing to endure,  
Or mounted on a gybbet, there chained sure,  
And live to gorge the Ravens, or to bleed  
Beneath the Lion's jaws; after to feed  
Her whelps, were nothing.  Age. 
Of the gods high strain.  
What, or whence are you, that so loud exclaim?  Earth. 
EARTH, Parent of all things.  Age. 
Why weep you?  Earth. 
Why?  
Have I not just cause? (who so great as I?  
Being a Mother) in this wretched state,  
To see my Sons hourly snatched hence by Fate,  Age. 
You have just cause to do't.  Earth. 
I pray what less  
●rceive you in the untamed Lioness,  
●hen she but one whelp misseth from her den?  Age. 
She mourns.  Earth. 
What of the ravenous Tiger than,  
● loose her young she tendered with such care?  Age. 
She grieves and raves.  Earth. 
How doth the poor Hen far,  
●ocking amid her brood, when in her sight  
●he Chicken is snatched from her by the Kite?  Age. 
She sorrows.  Earth. 
What doth the fleece-bearing Dam,  
●hen before her face the Wolf devours her Lamb?  Age. 
Laments.  Earth. 
Doth not the Cow with bellowing tear  
●he air, to find her Calf spoilt by the Bear?  Age. 
Alas she 'lows.  Earth. 
What doth the Sow, to spy  
●ut any of her Pigs stolen from her sty?  Age. 
She calls loud after.  Earth. 
OH than what should I?  
whatsoever I produce or cherish,  
procreate or bear, I see before me perish?  
●t not wondrous, Forests should at length  
●e putrefaction, rot, and loose their strength?  
●e shadowy tree Time of her beauty 'reaves,  
spoiling her both of her fruit and leaves.  Age. 
'tis wondrous I confess, but so it must be.  Earth. 
What is it than, that I behold and see  
●e brazen statues of the gods decay,  
●e monuments of Princes turn to clay;  
●ghty (q) Colossi, Temples decked with Veins,  
●●ported with rich Columns (by the brains  
the best Architects) made wide and large,  
●th spacious arches, sacred, in the charge  
Of many a golden Relic: these to fall,  
And in a few short seasons perish all.  Age. 
So it hath pleased the gods.  Earth. 
The gods are than  
Too cruel and austere to us and men;  
Since whatsoever the Earth's fertile womb  
Brings forth to air, and in the world to have room;  
Whatever in her bosom she hath ta'en  
To feed and foster: what doth now remain,  
Or shall hereafter be? That all these must  
Needs be involved in rottenness and dust.  Age. 
'tis fit.  Earth. 
OH anguish never to abate,  
Or have cessation!  Age. 
So the gods will have't.  Earth. 
Than, as I said before, they're too severe,  
And mercilesly in this kind austere.  
Is't not enough strong walls are beaten down,  
And lofty turrets levelled with the ground;  
Cities are sacked, to ruin made a prey,  
The famous statues of the gods decay;  
That rust the iron doth consume and waste,  
And pleasant Orchards of corruption taste;  
But Man must perish too, and cannot eat  
Times fearful havoc, but to ruin run?  Age. 
The Fates so william  Earth. 
What pity can there be  
Ascribed to any powerful deity?  
But what art thou? What goddess? or how styled?  Age. 
AGE I an called.  Earth. 
Hence false Virage, vild  
Infernal Fury; for 'tis thou alone  
Bringst all my Issue to confusion:  
Swift feather-footed TIME and ravenous AGE  
Devour all things in their remorseless rage.  Age. 
what's sublunary, Fate will have to fall.  Earth. 
Say Tyrannesse, thou AGE, consuming all,  
●here be those high Pyramids so famed,  
● which the barbarous (r) Memphis first was named,  
●●ared by so many workmens sweat and toil?  Age. 
As all things else, even these have suffered spoil.  Earth. 
where's Pharos Isle? the Sepulchre renowned  
●f King (s) Mausolus? where's the Image crowned  
●f chaste (t) Diana? Strumpet tell me.  Age. 
Go.  Earth. 
where's the (u) Tarpeian Mass, a structure none  
●ore famous? where's the hundred gated Town  
●alld Thebes? or strong immured Babylon?  
where's populous Ninive? what's Rome's sublime  
●ast Theatre by Caesar built? by TIME  
confounded all; where's the Colosse of Rhods?  Age. 
Their ruins all were foreseen by the gods.  Earth. 
what's Troy? old Sparta? or Corinthus hie?  
what's Solomon's Temple, Harlot?  Age. 
All these lie  
●n dark oblivion buried; and in vain  
You fret, chide, wrangle, and perplex your brain,  
Dear Mother EARTH; weep rivers from thy eyes,  
With clamours cleave thy jaws, make thy lungs rise  
Consume thy marrow, break thy back, and tear  
Thy entrailss out; the Fates are so severe,  
Thou-babes canst not break their order, their strict laws  
●nviolate are, and will admit not clause:  
●or them the mightiest Kings cannot oppose,  
●he Soldier's shield hath not defence ''gainst those;  
The rich man's purse, the learning of the Wise,  
Not nor the Poet's Verse (let that suffice.)  Earth. 
If than with such ferocitie they be  
●o deeply incensed; and that the gods agreed  
●n such inclemencie: advice me how  
● shall demean me?  Age. 
You of force must bow  
To their eternal doom, though you complain,  
Grieve, sorrow, and lament, all is but vain.  Earth. 
I will not therefore.  Age. 
Your best is to advice  
Man to leave th'earth, and look up to the skies:  
To put not confidence in Mundane Glory,  
Which (like himself) is merely transitory.  
Not to grow proud of Beauty, Wisdom, Wealth,  
Nor of his Strength, since Age by silent stealth  
Will rifle him of all. To him relate,  
Of far famed men the most unhappy state.  Earth. 
Your consolable words have given relief  
To my suspense, and now exiled all grief.  Age. 
that's all.  Earth. 
I will obey. Man, answer me.  Man 
who's that?  Earth. 
Thy Mother.  Man 
Mine? It cannot be.  Earth. 
Thy mother Earth.  Man 
Dear mother than All hail;  
What seek you?  Earth. 
I lament.  Man 
Can tears prevail?  
Dear Parent cease to grieve: lies it in me  
To give lest ease to your calamity?  Earth. 
Not, Son.  Man 
Why mourn you?  Earth. 
Have not all things birth  
From me thy wretched and sad mother Earth?  Man 
I know it well.  Earth. 
Dost thou not see how I  
Give to the woods production as they lie?  
Sapritius to the Trees, Increase unto the Grain;  
Hug in my fertile bosom stones? Again,  
Afford the Vine Grapes, and the tough Oak Mast;  
Food to the Fish, and to the Birds repast:  
'tis I that to the embroidered meadows yield  
●y, to the Gardens Flowers, Grass to the Field:  
●d last, as to the best of all my brood,  
●th unto Man; and after bearing food.  Man 
I do confess it, Mother.  Earth. 
I much lament,  
●are Child, and from hence grows my discontent,  
●at having such a fertile womb, so free,  
●d ever-teeming; only that by me  
●● many shapes and bodies hourly grow,  
●●●firme in substance, and so fair in show,  
●hat nothing can her ravenous throat assuage,  
●t all must die and be consumed by Age:  
●e ruins Forests, the hard marble wears,  
●ets iron, wastes Palaces, strong bulwarks tears,  
●ciles Camps, doth Citadels demolish quite;  
●en the gods sacred statues takes from sight.  
●e not high consecrated Temples spares,  
●t that which tears and torments to my cares  
●ll adds, That Man she ruthlessly devours,  
●nd makes him perish at uncertain hours:  
●herefore beware, my sweetest Child, take heed,  
●st tympanous pride within thy bosom breed,  
●f this beware, my son.  Man 
Mother I shall.  Earth. 
Than first, jest warlike glory thee assail,  
●nd make thee to forget thou art but Dust;  
●eare unto what the godlike Heroes trust,  
Whom Age hath worn out of all memory.  ●ector. 
Jest any in his potency rely,  
●r in his military arms take pride,  
●r powerful skill in (w) Geticke weapons tried,  
●et him consider me, puissant indeed,  
●ector the strongest of all Priam's Seed,  
potent in battle, and whilst I did stand,  
●um was safe, secured by sea and land:  
(In borrowed arms) 'twas I Patroclus slay;  
Before me, Legions of the Grecians flew,  
When I came armed in fury: Troy oppressed  
With ten year's siege, I guarded with this breast,  
I whom alone Achilles quaked to see,  
Have yielded unto Fate, and unto thee  
Andromache (a widow) left my son.  
Thus AGE ends all things an the earth begun.  Achilles. 
The Trojans terror, Great Achilles, I  
In sinewy strength excelling, and thereby  
Famous of old, the only hope and stay  
Of the Greek Heroes, who alone made way  
Through all the Dardan host. 'Twas I alone  
Was dreaded in the field, and but me none.  
Alone of far-famed Hector was I feared,  
And Priam quaked when he my name but herded:  
Able my nerves, and matchless might my grace,  
In body mighty, terrible my face,  
Big shouldered and broad breasted, stern my brow;  
Yet to (x) Minerva's Altar as I bow,  
Parish behind me steals, and with his dart  
Wounds me i'th' heel, which rankles to my heart.  
And thus the Valiant perish, and thus AGE  
All things consumes in her devouring rage.  Alexander. 
what's life but frailty, bubble, or a blast,  
A cloud, a smoke, not sooner-seene than past?  
Years, like a ball, are voluble, and run;  
Hours, like false Vows, not sooner spoken than done:  
Time quickly wastes by unwary days,  
Nothing can bribe the Sisters to delays.  
The horrid sword of Death whoso would fly,  
Let him but look into mine age, how I  
An gone and spent; I that was called and known  
By name of Alexander Macedon:  
Whose fame hath from the Sun's uprise been herded  
Beyond the place joves' Son his pillars reared.  
Through Hespery and all the Eastern lands  
●ave I been famed, whom none (opposed) withstands.  
●he populous city Thebes my arm o'erthrew,  
many thousand Persian soldiers slay;  
phoenicians, Ciclicks, Paphlagonians, all  
●y sword subdued: thrice did Darius fall  
●● neath my potency: great Babylon,  
●ighty in walls, I sieg'd, and seized on.  
●nd after, golden-waved Hidaspes past;  
●orus (four cubits high) I quelled at last,  
Whom, conquered, I set free. This done, I than  
●rom India sailed, to Babylon again.  
returning, I fallen sick, soon after died;  
Thus Time and ravenous AGE shall all things hid,  Samson. 
Let Fame, the admirer of all Ancestry,  
And such as are renowned for Chivalry,  
Here show herself, and in her shape divine;  
survey all places where the Sun doth shine,  
●n which large progress let her see the head  
Of flowing Nile: or say that she be fled  
Unto the Sunburnt (y) Garamanti, there  
To inquire news, or what she else can hear  
From the Numidians or remote estates  
Of (the oft-shifting place) the (z) Sanzonats.  
Search Thetis Empire through, or further go  
To what the fabric of the world can show,  
She shall not find that mortal wight that dare  
With me in nerves or strength of arms compare,  
I an the mighty Samson, famous yet,  
To whom for strength Alcides would submit:  
To strangle Lions was not more than play,  
Or to outrun swift Tigers on the way.  
What though I with the jawbone of an ass  
A thousand slay, and through their army pass?  
What though the city gates I rend and tear,  
And (after) them upon my shoulders bear?  
Yet notwithstanding my great power and strength,  
I yield to death, Age swallows all at length.  Earth. 
Know now my Son, that such most happy are,  
Whom others harms can teach how to beware.  
See, whatsoever I produce or bring,  
Nurse or give fostering to, even every thing  
Devouring Age consumes. Dost thou not see  
Renowned Hector yield to Destiny?  
How great Achilles, after wars rough storms,  
Despoiled of life, to be the food for worms?  
Samson and Alexander in their prime,  
Though strong, yet they both perished: This can Time.  
Now jest fair Feature should in thee breed pride,  
Nature's endowments, or aught else beside;  
See women next, in face and form excelling,  
Swallowed in dust; all Beauty Age expelling.  Hellen. 
OH you blind men, with feminine shape o'ertaken  
Whose amorous hearts are with their culture shaken,  
Now do I find too late, and grieve to think,  
All mortal beauty must in Lethe sink.  
We comb these hairs, and trim them up in gold.  
(Our curled tresses with rich gems enrolled)  
Our fronts we burnish, and there cannot pass  
One blemish, but corrected by the glass.  
By art we adorn our heads, and by art we  
Dispose the face and hair; by art we see.  
And yet these hairs, this head, these eyes, this face,  
Vanish like moving waves which float apace.  
Behold! I that was fair, am worm's meat made,  
My flesh corrupt, and buried in the shade.  
Behold (I say) that Graecian Helen, she  
Raped, Menelaus, in her prime from thee:  
Me (a) Theseus ravished first, and left me so,  
That saving kisses I did nothing know.  
False Paris last (by Fate or Fury led)  
Hosting with me, made stealth into my bed:  
Fool that he was, he little than did know,  
●his snare for me was Troy's sad overthrow.  
This putrified Corse by him so bought,  
was after by a thousand ships re-sought.  
OH Greece, what preparation didst thou make,  
To fetch that flesh which now the worms forsake?  
What broils? what strage? what slaughter to destroy,  
Did this loathed carcase breed betwixt Greece and Troy?  
Become it thee, friend Paris, to forsake  
Thy household gods, and such a journey take,  
To hazard seas, only to fetch away  
●rom Greece this rottenness, this putrid Clay?  
●nd you the (b) Atrides, would you sail so far,  
●nd for this dust maintain a ten year's war?  
●hat this vile earth, this stench you might return,  
To close these ashes in my father's urn?  
●ais. If any fables have been sung in praise  
Of Prostitutes, what fame their shapes could raise;  
● the Corinthian Lais, choice and best,  
●ave been the crown and grace to all the rest.  
●y chin the Ivory stained, Lilies my brow,  
●o match mine eyes the world than known not how:  
●y neck was long and strait, and my veins blue,  
often lips, in my clear cheeks fresh roses grew;  
●y nose was neither crooked, long, nor flat,  
●y visage it become, it graced that:  
●y wanton paps like two round hillocks grow,  
●●om which moist springs two milky rivers flow.  
●y belly comely swelled, for it become  
●ike a plump Peacocks, soft as the young lamb:  
●y stomach like the temperate Turtles feeding;  
modest my diet, and not surfeits breeding;  
●y arms much whiter than the Lilies shwoing,  
●r flowers, (d) Alcinous, in thy garden growing.  
●ho that my leg did look on, but did think  
●e burned in flames, or in the seas did sink?  
Or who my back parts did behold, but sed,  
OH that I were a flea in Lais bed.  
Or who my foot, but wished himself a stone,  
With upward eyes for me to tread upon.  
And yet this face, these cheeks, these lips, these eyes,  
This neck, these hairs, these temples, legs and thighs,  
This stomach, belly, backe, arms, hands, and feet  
Are worms meat now, and with corruption meet.  
Learn young man than, that which we trust in most  
Is dust and filth; in Age are all things lost.  
Thisbe. The Babylonian Thisbe is my name,  
Noble my birth, my beauty great in fame;  
Not lovely Maid that had in the Orient place,  
But with much envy gazed me in the face.  
Enraged jove I with a smile could please,  
Or pull his threatening thunder backe with ease.  
juno herself of me hath jealous been,  
And feared jest jove in Babylon would sin.  
The white (d) Caistrian Bird to me did yield,  
And to my blush the Roses of the field.  
Yet not this feature, not this front or face,  
Nor these mine eyes, to which the stars gave place,  
Can ransom me from the worms fearful rage,  
Or the rude fangs of all-devouring Age.  Lucretia. 
Who the divining Sibyls shall commend,  
Or thee, (e) Penelope, and not offend?  
Of (f) Dido's feature who shall smoothly writ?  
Or the (g) Leucadian sisters beauty cite?  
Behold me Lucrece, softer than the down,  
Or the swans breast, and whiter: who was known  
Moore tractable than wax; fresh as the air,  
Softer my skin than the ripe Melons are.  
With this fair body I the worms have fed,  
And a small urn contains me being dead.  
These paps, that (h) Cato the Severe would turn,  
Or chaste (i) Hippolytus in ardour burn.  
This precious flesh, this shape is changed to dust  
●nd putrefaction, to which all may trust.  
〈…〉 him, the earth brings forth, but Age can waste,  
〈◊〉 and the same fate meets with all at last.  Earth. 
Consider than, my Son, these shapes you have,  
SATURN'S endor nor feature, ransoms from the Grave:  
That all things suffer change, neck, breast, and throat,  
●ipss, cheeks, brow, stomach, all on which we dote,  
convert to ashes. Yet jest thou be wone,  
Thinking to scape by other gifts; my son  
strend with prepared ears, hear what the Learnd,  
●he Rich and others have 'tofore discerned;  
These and the rest have the same accent sung:  
●ow whilst they speak, thou still suppress thy tongue.  Virgil. 
If Learning from himself shall man divide,  
●nd make him like the Peacock strut with pride,  
●e offends in madness, sencelesly is vain.  
●e hold, I Virgil, of the learned strain,  
●f Poets Prince, their glory and their grace,  
●o whom Apollo did afford prime place;  
●e the most sacred Muses favoured still,  
●or me the (k) Dryads their laps would fill  
With various flowers, and the Napaec bring  
●hapletss of Bays to crown me when I sing.  
●o the Palaces of Emperors accited,  
●nd to the banquets of great Kings invited:  
●nd yet I died. What profit did it breed,  
●hat I first taught the wanton Goats to feed,  
●o till, to sow and reap; or be famed far  
●or the rude slaughters of a ten year's war?  
●et was I food for worms. what's Poesy than?  
●stable Age ends what she will, and when.  Xerxes. 
Jest opulencie should elate man high,  
●nd make him set his face against the sky,  
●●ust to his youth, or what his richeses brings,  
behold me Xerxes, mightiest of all Kings,  
And most magnipotent, I that have been  
Possessed of such an infinite Magazine  
Of gold and treasure, so immense a store,  
As never Persian King enjoyed before;  
That when my pride toward Grecia'gan to aspire,  
Gave to so many soldier's food and hire;  
So many legions from the Orient brought,  
That in the first great battle which we fought,  
Such store of shafts and darts my camp did yield,  
As kept the Sun's bright lustre from the field:  
So many ships of mine the Ocean swayed,  
As made astonished Neptune fly, afraid,  
And hid him in his Deeps, what's plenty than?  
Or what doth Pomp or Greatness profit men?  
We vanish all like shadows: and even thus  
Died (l) Croesus, (m) Crassus, (n) Midas, (o) Priamus,  
(p) Pygmalion, whom both Age and Death constrains  
To walk with Xerxes in the Elysian plains.  Nero. 
If any air to Tyrants breathing gives;  
If any (q) Catiline or (r) Marius life's;  
Or if there any stern (s) Mezentius be,  
Contemner of the gods: these look on me,  
I the base sink of sin, the ship of shame,  
Quaffer of human blood, Nero, the same  
Whose murders have been bruited over all,  
From the Sun's uprise, to his Western fall:  
Whose gluttonies and lusts Nilus known plain,  
And (t) Calpes, to the farthest parts of Spain.  
To rip my mother's womb was my desire:  
Who knows not too, I set great Rome on fire?  
Who knows not, that my fury did betray  
The lives of Lucian and wise Seneca?  
Who knows not, that Saint Paul and Peter tried  
My sword, by which most of the Senate died?  
But what was than my miserable fate?  
Pressed by my fears, and by the people's hate,  
Scorned by each sex, abhorred in mine own land,  
Contemned of all, I fallen by mine own hand:  
Thus Nero died, thus none can AGE withstand.  Sardanapal. 
Jest soft effeminacy, lust, and abuse  
Of Nature's gifts, might plead the lest excuse;  
I an that Sensuallist Sardanapal,  
Who to myself thinking to engross all  
Voluptuousness, decked in their womanish suits,  
I spent my time 'amongst common Prostitutes;  
False periwigs upon my head I wore,  
And being man, the shape of woman boar.  
Yet this rank body a small urn contains;  
To this we must, to this, AGE all constrains.  Earth. 
Son dost thou see how all things Age outweares?  
How the Strong perish, with the prime in years?  
How the Fair falls, and how the Learned decay?  
And how the Rich consume and fade away?  
How Tyrants die? How death the Wanton tastes?  
And, to conclude, how swift Time all things wastes?  Man 
What (Mother) shall I do? If I live chaste,  
I an not therefore safe: or if I wast  
My hours in Venus' sports, I an not free:  
If ever weep, what shall become of me?  
If ever sport, what profit can it bring?  
And though I ever mourn, or ever sing,  
all's one, for die I must. Since Death ends all,  
Let my corrupted body die and fall  
To dust, to earth or worms, pleasure's my store,  
Let me enjoy that, I desire not more.  Earth. 
Thus I conclude; Though man's life be vnstayd,  
And as we see, by Custom hourly fade,  
Even as the parched leaves by Autumn change  
And fall to nothing; yet (which is most strange)  
Of his own fruit he is unmindful still,  
And follows what proves to himself most ill.    


The Argument of the Dialogue entitled MISANTHROPOS, or the Man-Hater.  
This Dialogue of Richeses doth entreat;  
Of their true use: how they with lucre great  
Are long acquired, and how soon lost. The cause  
Of this Discourse is grounded from the applause  
Timon first had in Athens, where he swayed,  
For his wealth's sake, being honoured and obeyed.  
Who after a most riotous expense,  
Having consumed his state, and grown to sense  
Of Poverty; such as he raised he tries,  
But finds them now his person to despise.  
He seeing how base avarice did blind  
The world that time, in hate of all Mankind,  
So devious from Virtue, did propose  
A new name to himself, MISANTHROPOS;  
Which gives this Tractat name. The Author's intent  
Being to show, how proud and insolent  
Richeses make men: and have it understood,  
How they pursue the Bad, but fly the Good.  
Reade and observe, this Dialogue affords  
Much excellent matter, couched up in few words.   

The DIALOGUE.  Timon. 

OH jupiter, loving and sociable,  
That art domestical and hospitable,  
The lightning-blaster, Oath and jury-shaker,  
Cloud-gathering god, and the great Thunder-maker:  
Or if thou any other syr-name hast,  
●uch as by the ancient Poets in times past  
Hath to thy deity been madly given,  
To patch their halting Verse, and make it run even,  
For thee a thousand nicknames are pursuing,  
●o help their Lines, and keep their Rhymes from ruin)  
where's now thy all-feared lightning, breeding wonder?  
where's thine high streperous and loud voiced thunder?  
Thy radiant and bright burning bolts (once dreaded)  
What, are thy late keen pointed darts unheaded?  
●ll these, since thou with-heldst thy terrible stroke,  
appear vain trifles, and Poetic smoke,  
●nd of thy great power nothing else proclaims,  
●ave mere verbosity, and noise of Names,  
●or these thy Poetised tools for war,  
Which being drawn, both reached and wounded far;  
● know not by what means, but now at length,  
●unt is their chastning edge, and lost their strength;  
●o cold and frozen they about thee lie,  
That of thy wrath not spark we can espy  
●●ndled against the Nocent. These perjurers  
●esting at sufferance) make themselves assurers  
Of their own safety: being not more afraid  
●f thy unquenchable lightning, than dismayed  
●t common fire extinguished: it shows l●ke  
●o them, as if thou shouldst some Tition strike,  
●nd they look on; dreading not more thy ire,  
●han his whose struggling breaths forth Aetna's fire:  
Presuming not more wound belongs unto't,  
Than only to be smudged and grim'd with soot.  
From hence it comes, that (a) Salmoneus dare  
With thee in thy loud thunders to compare:  
Nor strange; he a man that bold and daring is,  
And thou a god so sovereign and remiss:  
What could he less do than such revels keep,  
Since thou hast drunk (b) Mandragora, to sleep  
And snort away thy time? even still forbearing  
Such as blaspheme and never cease forswearing.  
Besides, like one that such misdoers tenders,  
Not plaguing them, thou plumpst up great offenders.  
Some hold thee blind, and cannot see what's done:  
Some, easy to be fooled: like rumours run,  
That thou art deaf on both sides: others hold,  
Thou-babes art decrepit, and of late grown old.   

When thou waste in thy former youth and prime,  
Thou-babes didst not sloathfully misspend thy time;  
Than thou hadst spleen, and unto wrath waste prove,  
Vengeance and just infliction graced thy throne,  
And waste indeed such an all-dreaded god,  
Not male factor could escape thy rod:  
Thou-babes heldst with such not covenant, but thy darts  
Were still in action to amaze their hearts;  
Thy invulnerable arm advancing hie,  
Whilst through the earth thy flashing lightnings fly,  
Drawn from thy quiver, where they late did stick,  
Shot as from warring Archers, swift and thick.   

Besides these, fearful earthquakes, which were man  
such as her reverend breast tear up and cranny  
Mountains of snow by drifts made, hail in such  
Abundance, that of late we see none such:  
Impetuous showers of rain made torrents rise.  
And rivers o'er their banks to tyrannize.  
It hath been said, In good (c) Deucalion's age  
Such sudden inundations began to rage,  
That all mankind being drowned in one account,  
●arse was one skyffe saved on ((d)) Licoris Mount;  
● that, Humanity's small seeds reserving:  
●●om whence a generation less deserving,  
●nd much more impious grew: they imitating  
●hat'ss bad, and worse and worse still propagating.  
Nor is there cause thou shouldst with them be wroth;  
●eceiving but the guerdon of thy sloth.  
●ho now unto thy Altars offerings bring?  
●r to thy dreadful name loud Poems sing?  
●hou now hast neither sacrifice nor praise,  
●or is thy ruinous Temple hung with Bays;  
●nlesse by chance some by Olympus pass,  
●nd call to mind that such a god once was,  
And rather too for fashion sake, than fear)  
perhaps some thrifty Offering may leave there:  
●ike Saturn they would deal with thee (I tell thee)  
●nd (as thou him) so from thy throne expel thee.  
I here omit, whilst thou hast elsewhere trifled,  
●ow often thy great Temple hath been rifled,  
ransacked and spoilt, whilst thou the loud tongued Crier  
O'regrowne with sloth, as if thou didst desire  
Thy own undoing) not once wake nor call  
The dogs there kenel'd, make them bark and ball,  
Nor raise the drowsy neighbours, sleeping fast,  
●o present rescue, till the thiefs were passed:  
●ut thou the generous Giant tamer, who  
●ost boast in the great Giant's overthrow,  
Didst like a sot sit neither graced nor feared,  
Whilst from thy chin they shaved away thy beard:  
Yet thou even at that instant wert so strong,  
●o hold a dart that was ten cubits long.  
OH thou so famous, what will't thou endure  
●n the end, if still thou will't be thus secure?  
Or at what time will't thou extirp the seeds  
By thy just vengeance) of those gross misdeeds?  
How many bold aspiring Phaeton's, or  
Deucalion's canst thou find? High expiate for  
This inexhausted wickedness still flowing  
From corrupt mankind, and thou all this knowing   

Impertinent things I will submit to Fate,  
And pass in silence: only now relate  
Mine own particular wrongs. How many great  
And mighty of the Athenians, to the seat  
Of known sublimity hath Timon raised,  
Creating them from beggars? whilst they praised  
And magnified my bounty. Unto all  
I spread my open hand and liberal;  
In which most men (before me) I exceeded,  
As generally supplying such as needed,  
My richeses 'amongst my friends parced and given,  
Till I myself to penury was driven.  
Than suddenly a stranger I was grown,  
And to my most familiar friends not known:  
Those (when I passed them) that would crouch and ben●  
In adoration: those that did depend  
Upon my grace, my presence cannot brook,  
Nor on my wants so much as deign a look.  
If (as sometimes) I chance to cross the street,  
And any one of these my Creatures meet.  
"As of some statue, by long time decayed,  
" They eat my shadow, of my fall afraid.  
And others likewise that from far espy me,  
Into some by-lane screw themselves, so fly me,  
Make me an ominous spectacle of Fate,  
As if malevolent and unfortunate:  
Who in my better days was their Director,  
Styled by themselves, their Father and Protector.  
These mischiefs growing, to be made so vile,  
My own deep counsels I'gan reconcile,  
Snatched up this mattock, chused a field out, where  
The Earth's fair breast I an forced to wound and ear●  
And thus my time in labour wear away,  
●●●ng hired for some four half pennies by the day.  
●us with my spade in solitude here I  
●de to myself mine own Philosophy.  
●e profit reaped hence is, to be remote,  
●●d live out of the sight of such as dote  
● smoky vanities, those that inherit  
untie of all things, and yet nothing merit;  
●●d that doth most torment me. Now at length,  

jupiter  saturn and Rhea's offspring show thy strength;  
●y profound sleep shake of, for thou indeed  
sloth dost (e) Epimenides exceed.  
●nd once again thy Trisulk, and retire  
● Oeta, and there kindle it with new fire:  
●ng full of flames, when they most hotly glow,  
●rt of that vengeful indignation show  
●hich to thine high Tribunal did belong,  
●hen thou wert jupiter the young and strong:  
●e still to those reproaches subject be,  
●e Cretans cast upon thy Tomb and thee.   jupiter. 
What is he, so vociferously exclaims,  
Mercury, and Us so often names?  
●s' tedious clamours in mine ears sound shrill  
●eere unto Athens) from Himettus' hill,  
●● at the mountain's foot, deject and sad,  
●e, meager, lame, and in a goat's skin clad?  
seems to me that delving is his trade,  
●s eyes cast down, he leans upon his spade:  
is a bold speaking fellow, confident too  
what he says. After this sort to do  
●losopherss were want, and they alone,  
●d 'tis a wonder but this fellow's one,  
●●at dares against our deity device  
●h impious and unheard of blasphemies.  Mercury. 
Do you not know him (Father) thus forlorne,  
●n to Echicratides, in Collite born;  Timon 
his name, with whom we both have guested,  
And in our annual Sacreds' often feasted:  
He on the sudden with such plenty filled,  
Who at the altars of the gods hath killed  
Whole Hecatombs, and in his height of wealth  
Hath quaffed unto us many a grateful health.  jupiter. 
Whence comes this sudden change? But is this  
The honest rich man that was known so free,  
Whom Athens with her loud encomiums graced,  
And such a multitude of friends embraced?  
How happens it he is so poorly arrayed,  
So miserably dejected and dismayed?  
I guess him by the spade on which he leans,  
Some painful labourer that works for means.  Merc. 
You see how his humanity hath changed him  
And freeness, from his dearest friends estranged him:  
His mercy unto others, being so kind,  
And than among so many not to find  
One grateful, hath distraction in him bread,  
Still to be living, but to them thought dead.  
Considering next how he is scorned, derided,  
And his revenue and estate divided,  
Not among Crows and Wolves, but worse far,  
Ravenous and tearing vultures, who still ar●  
Gnawing upon his liver; those whom he  
His friends and best familiars thought to be.  
For they who now in his abundance swim,  
Were more delighted in his feasts than him:  
Nay, those who at his table did applaud him;  
When even unto the bore bones they had gnawn him  
They sucked his very marrow, and than fled;  
So to the world gave him both lost and dead:  
Being so far, from misery to free him,  
They would not seem to know him when they see ●●  
These brought him to this base despised trade,  
And hurled him from the Sceptre to the Spade;  
●●ed him out of his purple, here to sweated  
● hardly earn his meat before he eat:  
which he's so possessed with mortal spleen  
inst mankind that so ingrate hath been;  
●e whom his bounty raised and brought to fame,  
●se now remember Timon had a name.  〈◊〉. 

Yet one (believe me) not to be rejected,  
● for his former piety respected.  
● blame I him his anger to be such,  
●en ingrateful to endure so much.  
●s' zealous and good man not to redeem,  
favour his afflictions we might seem:  
we much pity him, who to maintain  
● adoration, hath before us slain  
many Goats and Bulls, and those the best  
at his flocks yielded; so that I protest,  
●●d approve them for my service meet,  
●ose savour in my nostrils still smells sweet.  
●ss for the boldness of that infinite Crew  
●ase perjurers, who forswear what's true;  
likewise those in self-conceit so strong,  
●y make not conscience of what's right or wrong;  
●● as insult by rapine and rude force,  
pressing without mercy or remorse,  
Sacrilegious too, such as forbear  
●●eir public robberies, not through love but fear;  
many the are in number, (though I strive)  
their misdeeds I not way can connive.  
●t mine eye of late on Athens, where  
many strange Duels and fencings were,  
● Pro's and Contras, quarrels in the schools,  
●e mad men railing, some; others like fools  
●ing: in uproar all, shrill acclamations  
scolding Disputants; such vociferations,  
I those so loudly thundered in mine ear,  
●● suppliants plaints I could by not means hear.  
Therefore with stopped ears I must silent sit,  
Or with their confused noise be tortured yet.   

there's a new toy imagined by these Nodies,  
Of things essential, and yet wanting bodies;  
Mere fantasies, which they with might and main  
(Though nothing) to have being would maintain:  
Which is the cause I have been so unkind,  
As this well meaning man not once to mind.  
It now remains his goodness to requited:  
Hie therefore Mercury, Plutus accite,  
With all speed possible command him hither,  
And bring with you a magazine together  
Of new coined gold, more than the man can tell.  
He with his treasure shall with Timon devil.  
Nor shall they easily be removed from thence,  
Though by his bounty and too large expense,  
He would expel them from him. For those Chattere●  
Parrots and Pies, with other oily flatterers  
And Parasites that have ingrateful been,  
I now will study to chastise their sin,  
So soon as I my vengeful darts have viewed,  
And my three-forked thunder stone renewed:  
Some of the rays are broken, others rebated,  
Which with all speed I must have instaurated:  
The points are dulled, since I insenced was  
Against the Sophist Anaxagoras,  
Who to his Scholars openly professed,  
The gods or were not, or were naught at lest:  
But I through error mist, Pe●icles' bestrid him,  
And with his body from my vengeance hide him.  
The bolt averted light upon the fane  
Where the two brothers deify'de remain,  
(Castor and Pollux) burned it to the ground.  
And not one stone was left about it sound.  
But what a punishment will this appear  
Unto those envious wretches, when they hear,  
Timon, in whose oppression they agreed,  
●all them in wealth and potency exceed;   Mercury. 
OH but much more avails it for a man  
●o stretch his throat with all the power he can,  
●o be obstreperous and herded from far;  
●o not mean the bawling at the Bar,  
●ud railing for fat fees and gain of gold;  
●t those like Timon, clamorous and bold,  
●ho in his Orisons hath been so shrill,  
● make great jove attentive ''gainst his will;  
●ho had he (smothering grief) sat still and mute,  
●●ght have long laboured in a threadbare su●e.  Plutus. 
To him, o jupiter, I will not go.  jupiter. 
Tell me, o excellent Plutus, wherefore so?  
specially when thou by us art sent.  Plutus. 
Because I have a fearful precedent:  
● he with many injuries afflicted,  
●hen I was wholly to his love addicted,  
●e shaken me of, as one that did deride me,  
●nd into mammocks and small bits divide me,  
●en cut me into pieces: would not cell me,  
●t being his domestic friend expel me  
●ith forks and prongs, as one insenc'd with ire,  
● casting from his hand hot coals of fire.  
●nd shall I once again enter his doors,  
● be consumed on Sycophants and whores,  
flatterer's and such? Sand me, o jove, I entreat,  
●o some that understand a gift so great,  
●●m that to incorporat and hug me strives,  
● such as prise me dearer than their lives.  
●hiss stupid fellow hath a covenant made  
●ith Poverty, preferring a poor trade:  
mattock and a skin-coat from her taken,  
fore my golden and all-tempting look:  
not now with four small halfpences can make shift,  
●d yet hath given ten talents at a gift.  jupiter. 

But Timon not such thing hereafter dares  
Against thy person: rather he prepares  
To honour thee, as one whom Toil and pain  
Hath reconciled, to welcome thee again;  
His entrailss with long fast and hunger clung,  
Hath with his mind now likewise changed his tongue   

But thou art too complaintive, who accuses  
First Timon to me for his late abuses,  
Because he with his gates set open wide,  
Gave thee free-leave, there or elsewhere to abide;  
Not keeping thee in obscure prison fast,  
(As being jealous of thee) where thou hast  
Thy liberty. Again, thou art enraged  
Against those Cormorants that have incag'd  
And shut thee up; complaining, Beneath locks,  
Keys, bolts, and seals thou'rt kept as in the stocks,  
From whence thou canst not move, from light exclude  
Living in dungeons and dark holes contruded:  
Of such thou hast complained to me, and wept,  
To be so long, so close in darkness kept;  
Looking withal so meager, pale, and wan,  
Oppressed with care as hadst thou been a man,  
Starved and shrunk up, thy sinews drawn together,  
Thy fingers clutched and lam'd; I know not whether  
Hoarding up gold this Apoplex compelling,  
Or numbness, made by thy assiduat telling;  
Willing to stay with them by not persuasion,  
But apt to leave them on the lest occasion.   

And what above thought makes thee ill bested,  
Is, in an iron or a brazen bed  
(As thou hast herded of Danae) to be laid,  
As there for ever to be kept a maid,  
By impious overseers schooled and taught,  
Who save in gain and usury know naught.   

Their gross absurdities I have herded thee note,  
Who on thy person above reason dote;  
And being in their power, dare not employ them,  
Or lying prostrate to their lust, enjoy them:  
They all the while strict vigilancy keeping,  
With guard upon the place where thou art sleeping,  
●ying the bolts and bars, and winking never,  
●s in great hope thou will't supply them ever,  
●nd have much profit from thee. Not that they  
●ean to make blessed use of thee though they may,  
●ut only keep thee in such strict tuition,  
because none else of thee should have fruition.  
●st like a dog that in the manger lies,  
●ho though himself the provender despise,  
●s to his palate a distasteful meat,  
●et will not suffer the poor horse to eat.  
I likewise have observed thee laugh at those,  
Who though they have thee at their free dispose,  
●ost gripple are in sparing. In a word,  
●hou hold'st it most radiculous and absurd,  
●hat such (mean time) should starve themselves, not knowing  
●o whom (their flower being withered) thou art growing:  
●o what Executor, Servant, or Page,  
●eward or Pedagogue, who their spent age  
●ave not bestowed on thee, but on thy come,  
●o seize by force, or else by stealth purloin;  
●nd than for his safe hoarding and close hiding,  
●he wretched Master (new deceased) deriding,  
●ho did so charily in his life time lock it,  
●nd with a snuff half burned within the sockit,  
●r dry rush light, keep wakeful his faint eyes  
●pon his (now) all-forfeit usuries.  
●●t not therefore, Plutus, ill in thee,  
●hat haste of these so often complained to me;  
●hy fickle thoughts so suddenly to vary,  
●nd blame in Timon the clean contrary?   Plutus. 

Yet if my cause to censure be referred,  
●e shall confess that I have not way erred:  
Nor is there reason why I should dispense  
With Timon's lightness, rather negligence,  
In stead of study, care, and that goodwill,  
Respect, and love, that should attend me still.   

Nor of the adverse part do I approve,  
Those that embrace me with an overlove,  
Imprisoning and obtruding me so close,  
To make me every day more huge and gross;  
Franking me up, to fat me, with intent  
I may appear to them more corpulent;  
Yet they themselves, nor use me in my neatness,  
Nor show me unto others in my greatness.   

All such I contumelious hold and mad,  
Who notwithstanding all good from me had,  
Put me in shackles, where I starving lie,  
Oppressed with hunger, and with thirst still dry:  
Not understanding they must shortly leave me  
To such as stand wide gaping to receive me.   

Nor do I of those Prodigass allow,  
Apt to part with me, and not caring how:  
Such only I approve among the rest,  
Who hold a mediocrity the best;  
That neither vow to keep an absolute fast,  
Or having plenty, are inclined to waste.   

Consider this, o jove, Say that a man  
Find for his choice the fairest Maid he can,  
To make his Bride; and when the Nuptial night  
Invites them both to rest, he sets her light,  
Neither observes her, nor is tender o'er her,  
But sets his doors and gates broad wide before her,  
To gad and wander at her pleasure, trusts  
Her night and day to prostrate where she lusts:  
The man that gives such liberty to vice,  
What doth he (not preventing) but entice  
To lewdness? as inviting folk to prove her:  
Can such an one be said truly to love her?   

Again, If any shall a Fair one wive,  
And bring her to his house; when he should strive  
To play the husband, and to procreate  
Children as hopeful as legitimate:  
Even than of all due Mariage-sweets should grutch her,  
Nor in her flourishing prime of beauty touch her;  
Unwilling from a loathsome Gaol to free her,  
Where nor himselfe nor any else may see her.  
But thus secluded, barren, and deprived,  
Shall keep her still a virgin, though long lived:  
And than, That all this was for love pretend,  
Preferring her thus old and near her end,  
With an exhausted body, colour pale,  
Deep wrinkled cheeks, and sunk-in eyes that fail;  
Would you not think that man quite from his senses,  
Who when by lawful and most just pretences  
He might have hopeful Issue, and possess  
A goodly sweet young woman, and not less  
Amorous, yet suffers her in care and anguish,  
●adly like one of Ceres' Priests to languish?  
Thus used and I abused, an sometimes torn,  
●●fled and plucked in pieces, and in scorn  
●affled and kicked: by others kept alive,  
●mprisoned like some branded fugitive.   jupiter. 
Why fretst thou against those made to endure  
strange punishments for sins black and impure?  
Or wherefore art thou at such slaves astonished,  
Who in themselves seest their own vices punished:  
The one like (h) Tantalus, in sight of meat,  
And always gaping, but forbidden to eat:  
With such dry chaps they gape upon their gold,  
Hot with that sated which they still behold.  
The other, though they have it in their paws,  
●eady to glut themselves; from their starved jaws  
The Harpies snatch it, as from (g) Phineus, spoiling  
●hose dainties for which he so long was toiling.  
Go thou from Us to Timon without fear,  
To whom (not doubt) thou will't be henceforth dear.  Plutus. 
But think you that at length he will forbear  
To pour me into leaking vessels, where  
Though with great labour you maintain it still,  
The liquor runs out faster than you fill;  
Sooner exhausting me, to draw me dry,  
Than I myself can with myself supply:  
He fearing when I shall with plenty crown him,  
I have but merely laid a plot to drown him.  
I shall be as in (i) Danaus' daughters tons,  
Not sooner aught poured in, but out it runs;  
So many holes being in the bottom drilled,  
That it drains faster than it can be filled.  jupiter. 
But though the liquor through the vessel breaks,  
And that he hath not will to stop these leaks,  
But by perpetual dropping and effusion,  
All must of force be wasted in conclusion:  
Yet 'amongst the leeses and dregss not doubt he'll find  
His leathern pelt and spade still left behind.  
Go you mean time and see the man possessed  
Of treasure in abundance, and the best.  
That done, o Hermes, call at Aetna, where  
The (k) Cyclops are at work, and (dost thou hear?)  
Bid them repair to me at my first sending,  
For tell them that my three tynd bolt wants mending.  
Both edge and point is dulled and in my spleen  
I now must have it sharpened and made keen.  Merc. 
Plutus let's walk. But stay (thou of such fame)  
Tell me how on the sudden cam'st thou lame?  
What, and blind too?  Plutus. 
These imperfections lie  
Not always, Hermes, in my foot or eye;  
Only at some set times. For being sent  
By jove, I an thus lame incontinent,  
I know not by what means compelled unto't,  
But instantly I halt on either foot,  
And ere the place before me reach I can,  
I an grown a lame decrepit weak old man  
But if I be to part from such, I fly  
Swifter than birds make way beneath the sky;  
Not bars can stop me, furlongs are not more  
To me, than narrow strides, I strip before  
The winds swift wings, and can deceive the eye  
With my unparaleld velocity:  
Nay even the public Criers have agreed  
To crown me Victor for my pace and speed.  Merc. 
I now perceive thou Plutus idly pratest,  
Since all things are not true that thou relatest:  
How many have I known but yesterday  
Ready to hung themselves, that could not pay  
One single halfpenny down upon the nail,  
To buy an halter with: yet now they sail  
In gold and purple; some in Chariots ride,  
That had not late a poor Ass to bestride,  
Wealth flowing on them in so swift a stream,  
That they themselves have thought it but a dream.  Plutus. 

A thing quite contrary it is, I vow,  
Of which, o Mercury, thou twit'st me now:  
For know, I walk not on mine own legs when  
I an sent by jove to honest and good men.  
But if god (l) This shall once command, I run,  
For his behest is in an instant done.  
He of the great gift-giver bears the name,  
His Magozin's in hell, whence gold first came:  
And therefore when I shifted from man to man,  
With all the industry and care they can,  
They take me, wrapped and swathed in Bonds and Bills,  
Where one conveyance a whole sheepskin fills:  
So, signed and sealed, me in some box they smother,  
And toss me betwixt one party and another.  
The owner dead, left in some obscure place,  
Where Dogs and Cats may piss upon his face.   

Those that have hope to enjoy me are soon found  
i'th' Courts, and those hot scented as the hound,  
Yawning like to the Swallows infant brood,  
When the dam fluttering to their nest brings food.  
Now when the seale's discovered on the William  
And the string cut that bond the roll up, still  
They gape to see the parchment opened and read,  
To know the Executor to the late Dead.  
Than instantly a new heir is proclaimed.  
And either, there, some greasy kinsman named,  
Some Sycophant or fawning Parasite,  
Or else perhaps a debauched Catamite.  
He with a new shaved chin, being of this treasure  
Possessed, than study's novelty and pleasure,  
With all rarieties at the height rated,  
Which the dead hoarder in his life time hated.  
He must be than a gentleman at lest,  
And with his wealth his Title (needs) increased,  
With change of name: for he that was before  
Known by the name of (m) Pyrrhias, Drono, or  
Tibias; although the man be still the same,  
Must either Megabyzus have to name,  
Megacles or Protarchus: his mind swelling  
With vain ostent to gain a stile excelling.  
Even those that did not yawn with deep inspection  
(Though at the first in like state and election)  
Into these hidden Ours; now all dis-jointed,  
When they behold each other disappointed,  
Although they truly mourn, seen but to feet,  
To see the small fish Tuny scape the net;  
Who as he living did but little eat,  
So being dead could not afford much meat.   

Now he that grovelling falls upon this Mass,  
(Some fat fed Budget, or dull witted Ass,  
Who of not good parts or clean life hath been)  
Enters upon it with an unwashed skin:  
None treads so softly by him, but he fears,  
And like a cur than starts up with pricked ears,  
His fellow footmen he despiseth now,  
To the Temple and the Horse-mill doth allow  
An adoration equal. Who to dispense  
●ss able now with his great insolence?  
●nsufferable he grows, the Good despising,  
And o'er his Like and equals tyrannising;  
Vaunting in mighty things, till Lust, incited  
With some fair whore, or otherwise delighted  
●n keeping Dogs and Horses, or by hearing  
His trencher-Flies about his table jeering,  
And whispering to him, He is grown more fair  
Than the Greek (n) Nereus, Homer made so rare:  
The mischief's, he believes it; their verbosity  
Persuading him, That in true generosity  
● Cecrops and Codrus come behind him. One  
Tells him, Ulysses unto him alone  
submits in wisdom, and persuades the Beast  
To be more rich than Croesus was, at lest  
●y sixteen fold: exhausting by this mean,  
And in one breath of time consuming clean  
What was by piecemeal gathered, and did rise  
From base extortions, thefts, and perjuries.   Merc. 
These are not question true: but when thou goest  
On thy own feet (being blind) say how thou knowest  
The way thou art to take? how canst thou find  
●uch men as are of good and honest mind?  
To whom (as now) my father often times sends thee,  
●nd in his care and providence commends thee.  Plutus. 
Thinkest thou I find those I an sent unto?  Merc. 
By jove not I: if so, how didst thou do,  
When lately being to Aristides sent,  
●hou to Hipponicus and Callius went,  
●nd other base Athenians, scarce worth thought,  
Or a poor single halfpenny, to be bought?  
What is the course thou tak'st upon the way?  Plutus. 
Now high, now low, in each blind path I stray,  
Till unawares upon some one I fall,  
And be he what he will, that man gets all:  
He that is next me and can first catch hold,  
To fasten on me, having seized my gold,  
Secludes me to some obscure place, possessing  
What he long wished, than openly confessing,  
In prayers and vows, he is to Hermes bond,  
By whose assistance this great fortune's found.  Merc. 
Is jove deceived, presuming that thou goest  
To enrich such as he affects most,  
And thinks them worthy of his largess?  Plutus. 
Right,  
OH Mercury, and justly too, my sight  
Being defective, and at such times blind;  
And sending me to seek that, which to find  
So difficult is, and scarcely hath a Being,  
Is that a task with my dim sight agreeing?  
In which had quick eyed Argus in my stead  
been his inquisitor, he scarce had sped:  
The path so narrow and obscure, beside,  
It being so rare to see a good man guide  
A City's weal; for those corrupt still sway,  
And those in numbers flocking in my way:  
I groping, can I possibly eschew  
To avoid the many, and select the few?  
The wicked always yawning after gains,  
(The others not) how can I scape their trains?  Merc. 
I but how comes it, when th'u'rt to forsake  
These wretches, thou such voluble speed dost make?  
And without rub or the lest stumbling, when  
Thou-babes canst not see the path before thee?  Plutus. 
Than  
Both eyes and feet assist, and than alone,  
When Time invites and calls me to be go.  Merc. 
Another thing resolve me: Tell me how  
becomes to pass (o god of Wealth) that thou  
●rst being blind, next, of a pale complexion,  
●st, crippled in thy feet, canst gain the affection  
●f so many great friends and lovers, such  
● think they cannot gaze on thee too much?  
●or can imagine they are truly blessed.  
●●fore of thee undoubtedly possessed?  
again, If he that after thee inquires,  
●ance to be frustrate in his hot desires;  
●or such I have known many, and some noted,  
●hat so debashtly on thy person doted,  
●hat at their courting if thou seemedst but coy,  
●ave ready been their own lives to destroy:  
Who when they see they Plutus could not please,  
themselves from hie rocks cast into the seas.  
●nd yet I know, and thou must needs confess,  
View but thyself as I do) thou will't guess,  
● not conclude, it is not love, but madness  
●akes them despair in doting on thy badness.  Plutus. 
But thinkest thou, Mercury, I to them appear  
● the same form as thou beholdest me here,  
Or lame or blind, with such defects about me?  Merc. 
OH by not means, for I should than misdoubt me  
●hat they were blind as thou art.  Plutus. 
But not quite,  
● Mercury, like me deprived of sight:  
●nd yet there falls on them, as by some chance,  
● kind of error or blind ignorance,  
Which occupies them all, over their eyes  
●asting a shadowy film, which doth disguise  
●y deformed parts; so I appear to them  
a golden habit, stuck with many a gem:  
● pictured vesture I seem, passing by,  
●nd thousand colours, to deceive the eye.  
These fools imagining, what I present,  
To be my sole and native ornament:  
And therefore being enamoured on my form,  
If not eniov me, than they rage and storm.  
But should I be before them naked laid,  
And my misshapen ouglinesse displayed,  
Not doubt they would condemn themselves, pursuing  
A seeming good, which leads them to their ruin:  
The are only apt themselves to reconcile  
To things their own nature base and vile.  Merc. 
But when it comes unto such pass that they  
Are filled with wealth, and supplied every way;  
When they have hedged, nay walled their richeses in,  
Some notwithstanding look so bore and thin,  
Withal so gripple, you may sooner tear  
Head from the body, than impart what's there?  
Besides, it is not probable, but such  
As have with greedy eyes perused thee much,  
Must needly know, (howe're they proudly boast,  
Thy outside tin-foiled, or but guilt at most?  Plut. 
These my defaults (with others) to supply,  
I have many ready helps, o Mercury.  Merc. 
Name them I prithee.  Plut. 
They not sooner fasten  
With greediness upon me, but they hasten  
To open their gates wide, than with me by stealth  
Enter (for always they attend on wealth)  
Hawtinesse, Boasting, with the minds distraction,  
Effoeminacie, and to make up the faction,  
Oppression and Deceit, with the interest  
Of thousand more; with which the heart possessed,  
Is suddenly subjected and brought under,  
To admire toys which are not worth the wonder,  
And covet that which they aught most to fly.  
Now with this band of Pensioners guarded, I  
When thus attended they my state behold,  
Thy never dream of other god than Gold:  
with such adoration they respect me,  
endure all torments, rather than reject me.  Merc. 
How smooth and slick thou art, not where abiding,  
when men think thee safest, swiftly gliding  
●row their fingers, neither can I spy  
●andle or an haste to stay thee by,  
we hold pots and glasses; they slip through  
● hand as snakes and serpents use to do.  
When Poverty, to thee quite contrary,  
●ere ever she takes her Inn is apt to tarry:  
emmy cleaves like Birdlime, uncompelled,  
● to be seized, and easy to be held;  
●ing a thousand catching hooks, and so  
out her placed, that hardly she let's go.  
● whilst we trifle here, there's one main thing  
● had forgot.  Plut. 
What?  Merc. 
That we did not bring  
●asure along, it being joves' intent,  
● the chief business about which we are sent.  〈◊〉. 
For that take thou not care: I do not enter  
on the earth, (being called, and leave my Centre,  
I have still a care upon my store,  
my departure to shut fast my door,  
●ich only opens to me when I call.  Merc. 
Let's thither than, and Plutus jest thou fall,  
●d by my cloak, and follow till we come  
●o the place assigned.  
Hermes well done,  
lead me thus; for if thou shouldst forsake  
as I an, I might perchance mistake  
way, and wand'ring, through my want of sight,  
Hyperbolus or on Cleon light.  
stay, What noise is that? I hear some one  
●ith his pickax striking against stone.  Merc. 
'tis Timon, who laboriously doth wound  
A piece of mountainous and stony ground.  
OH wondrous! Poverty by him fast stands,  
And the rough fellow Labour, with galld hands.  
here's Wisdom, Health, and with them Fortitude,  
And besides these, a populous multitude  
Of such like Grooms, Need them to work compelli●  
And yet a troop (methinks) thy Guard excelling.  Plut. 
Therefore let's post hence with what speed we  
For, Hermes, how shall we invade a man  
Gird with so great an army?  Merc. 
Be not afraid,  
'tis joves' command, whose will must be obeyed.  Pou. 
OH whether leadest thou Plutus?  Merc. 
To enlarge  
Timon from hence; for so jove gave in charge.  Poverty. 
Comes he again to Timon, whom (bereaved  
Of health by many surfeits) I received,  
To Wisdom and to Industry commended,  
And in his cure so far my skill extended,  
I soon restored him (as he still doth find)  
Sound in his body, and upright in mind.  
Have I deserved such scorn, or do I merit  
A wrong, what is mine own not to inherit?  
That you are come, with colourable pretence,  
Him (now my sole possession) to take hence?  
Whose ruined virtues with exactest care  
I have much toiled and laboured to repair.  
Being again in that blind gods protection,  
he'll bring them vassald to their late subjection,  
Fill him with arrogance, disdain, and pride,  
And every ill that Goodness can misguide;  
And when all hope of fair amendment's past,  
Return him backe as I received him last,  
Essoeminate, slothful, frantic, or what not,  
A thing of nothing, a mere brainless Sot.  〈◊〉. 
Thou-babes hearest joves' william  Poverty. 
And I to it agreed.  
●●●wledge and Laber do you follow me,  
●● all my train: he'll shortly to his cost  
He what a mother he (in me) hath lost;  
●t a good helper, what a true instructor.  
●ll good arts a tutoress and conductor:  
whilst with me he had commerce, was still  
●e and healthful, having strength at will,  
●ding a manly life, turning his eyes  
●n his breast, and of proud vanities  
●● gawdy frailties had at all not care,  
●●held them trifles, as indeed they are.  Merc. 
They now are go, let us approach more near.  Timon. 
What slaves be these that to mine eyes appear?  
●y are you come? what would you? what require?  
●a poor labouring man that works for hire?  
● shall not part hence laughing, for know, I  
●e store of stones that round about me lie.  Merc. 
Assault us not, o Timon, for in vain  
●ou shalt do so, we are not of the strain  
immortal race, but gods: I, Mercury:  
●is, Plutus, sent from the great Deity,  
●o doth at length commiser at thy state,  
●h purpose now to make thee fortunate:  
● shall be well, we come to ease thy pain,  
●ave of thy work, henceforth be rich again.  
● Though to yourselves the name of gods you borrow,  
●●pe of, or I shall give you cause of sorrow:  
●me not too near me, I at random strike,  
● gods and men I now hate both alike:  
for that blind slave, him I'll first invade,  
●ow to rap him sound with my spade.  〈◊〉. 
Let us be go, o Mercury, he's mad,  
●t some sad mischief from his hand be had.  Merc. 
This barbarous spleen good Timon strive to hid,  
And thy ferocitie cast quite aside.  
With gratitude receive what jove hath sent,  
I strike thee luck, be rich incontinent:  
Prince of the Athenians thou shalt henceforth be,  
And to contemn them that disdained thee,  
Punish their base ingratitude, be't their grief  
To see thee raised, live happy, and their Chief.  Plut. 
I have not need of you, pray give me leave  
To use my labour, and at night receive  
My competent wages, 'tis a gainful trade,  
I have wealth enough in using this my spade:  
I should be happy if you would forbear me,  
But than most blessed if not man would come near me.  Merc. 
Thou-babes speakest too inhumanely; Timon I  
This thy harsh language and absurd reply  
Will tell my father: Say that from man's breast  
thoust had more wrongs than thou canst well digest  
Yet 'tis not good the gods thou shouldst despise,  
Who as thou seest all for thy good devise.  Tim. 
To thee, o Mercury, jove, and the rest  
Of the Celestial gods, I here protest,  
I hold myself much bond, and thank them for  
Their care of me, but Plutus I abhor,  
And him I'll not receive.  Merc. 
Why?  Tim. 

Because I guess  
Him the foal author of my great distress  
And mischiefs manifold, as first betraying me  
To oily smooth-tongued flatterers, and than laying m●  
Open to those insidiated my state.  
Envy and hate he first did propagate,  
Corrupted me with vices, than disclosed me  
To all reproach, and after that exposed me  
To spleen and cankered malice which exceeded,  
And last of all left me when most I needed.   

Excellent Poverty contrariwise  
〈◊〉 me unto pains and exercise  
●●comming Man; truly and freely we  
together lived in consocietie,  
applying me with all things, garments, meat,  
●●ich tasted best, being seasoned by my sweat.  
● vulgar things she taught me to despise,  
●●d look on frailties with unpartial eyes;  
persuading me, that Hope hath steadfast root,  
●ere man's own industrie's assistant to't:  
●wing what Richeses should be our delight,  
●h namely as not soothing Parasite,  
● fawning Sycophant, not mad and rude,  
●y stupid and seditious multitude;  
● Orator that gathers from lewd tongues  
●d tales, and heralds them to others wrongs:  
● Tyrant that lies craftily in wait:  
●en none of these can undermine our state,  
●en we are truly rich. Labour hath made  
● able-bodied, whilst I daily trade  
this small field, from whence I cannot see  
thousand ills that in the City be.  
●e tools I work with plenteously supplying  
●th needful things, uprising and down lying.  
●d therefore Mercury return I entreat,  
●re with thee Plutus back to joves' high seat;  
●th fond delirements let him others charm,  
● for my part he never more shall harm.   Merc. 
Not so, good man, let me advice the best,  
●dy thine own peace, and let others rest.  
●is peevish (rather childish) spleen forbear,  
●d from mine hand receive god Plutus here.  
man 'tis profanation to despise  
●h blessings as jove sends the Just and Wise.  Plut. 
Will't thou, o Timon, hear me to the end,  
●ilst I against thee mine own cause defend,  
●●d suffer me with patience?  Timon. 
Speak, but briefly,  
Avoiding Proëms and preambles, chief  
Used by damned Orators: see thou beest short,  
I'll listen to thee, but thank Hermes for't.  Plut. 
Moore liberty by right I aught to claim,  
Whom thou of wrongs injuriously dost blame;  
Thy invective is with bitterness extended,  
Yet innocent I in nothing have offended,  
Who thee of all delicious things provided,  
At thy free will to be disposed and guided:  
I was the author and chief instrument  
Of thy authority and government;  
I gave thee crowns, and furnished thee with treasure,  
Made thee conspicuous, to abound in pleasure.  
In all rarieties I thee instated:  
By me thou wert observed, and celebrated.  
If since, aught ill have unto thee betided,  
('Cause thou perhaps my goodness hast misguided)  
By seeming friends or servants, canst thou blame  
Plutus for this? I rather should exclaim  
On thee, for many contumelies past,  
Pouring me out amongst sordid knaves so fast:  
Who only swelled thee with vainglorious pride,  
Devising strange prestigious tricks beside,  
Only to draw me from thee. i'th' last place  
Where thou hast uttered to my foul disgrace,  
I left thee in thy want to starve and pine,  
Be witness Hermes if the fault were mine:  
Who after injuries not to be born,  
Didst cast me from thee in contempt and scorn,  
Hence comes it, for thy cloak of purple die,  
Thy late beloved Mistress Poverty  
Hath wrapped thee in this skin coat. I attest  
Thee, Mercury, how much I was oppressed:  
And but that jove command's, by not facility  
Can I be woon to atone this our hostility.  Merc. 
But Plutus thou now findest how he is changed,  
●nd from his former humour quite estranged.  
●herefore have free commerce, dig Timon still,  
●nd in the mean time Plutus use thy skill,  
●hat as by joves' behest thou art assigned,  
● delving deep he may this treasure find.  Timon. 
Well Hermes, I obey, and an prepared  
●o be again made rich: For man 'tis hard  
●o wrestle with the gods. Observe, I'ntreat,  
●●to what miseries and mischiefs great  
●hou hast headlong cast me, who (I vow) until  
●his hour lived happy, as I might do still.  
●hat ill have I deserved, now to be vexed,  
●●d once again with infinite cares perplexed,  
〈◊〉 fastening on this treasure?  Merc. 
And yet take  
●l, I entreat, in good part for my sake;  
●are it, however weighty and indeed  
●most intolerable, be't but to breed  
●vy in those base Claw-backs: I mean time  
●ving passed Aetna, must Olympus climb.  Plut. 

he's mounted, having left us, making way  
●ith his swift wings: but thou, o Timon, stay  
Ill I departed, and to thy power commit  
●masse of wealth, solely to manage it.  
●t strike hard, harder yet; and now to thee  
speak, o Treasure, most observant be  
●●to this Timon, with what speed thou hast,  
●fer thyself by him to be embraced;  
●●g Timon lustily, thy stroke fetch higher,  
●d work apace, 'tis time that I retire.  
●oed, my good spade, use both thy edge and strength,  
●d be not too soon dulled, till I at length  
●ve from the Earth's deep entrailss brought aloft  
●y hidden lustre, and here couched thee soft  
●on this grassy verdure. OH jove, father  
Of prodigies, or what we else may gather  
From thy Divine Power: o my dearest friends  
The (f) Caribanthes', how your love extends?  
And thou light-bearing Mercury, behold,  
And freely tell me, Whence is all this gold?  
It is some dream, I an deceived, I fear,  
These are quick glowing coals new waked here.  
Not sure, 'tis excellent gold yellow and bright,  
Most ravishing, all-pleasing to the sight,  
Beautiful Coin: OH let me hug thee than,  
Thou-babes art the goddess of Good-luck to men:  
It flames like fire compact, in this huge cluster  
Both night and day it keeps it's glorious lustre.  
Approach to me my Dearest, how to miss thee  
I know not now: Most Amorous let me kiss thee.  
Till now I did not credit what was told  
Long since, That jove himself was changed to gold.  
What precise Virgin could retain the power  
Not to hold up to such a golden shower?  
Or being the chastest of all human daughters,  
Not meet him dropping through the tiles and rafters.  
Take Midas, Croesus, and the Magozine  
Heaped by the offerings made at Delphos shrine;  
Compared with this Mass they are nothing to't,  
And take the Persian Monarchy to boot.   

OH Spade, o Skin-coat, late to me most dear,  
To Pan the rural god I leave you here.  
I'll buy a field remote hence, and obscure,  
Where having built a strong tower to secure.  
This mountainous heap, I'll study (being go)  
How I may best live to myself alone.  
There will I build my tomb too, ever I die,  
That none may know where Timon's ashes lie.   

I have decreed, and 'tis established in me,  
That none from this sequestered life shall win me,  
Nor hate ''gainst all mankind. Henceforth a guest,  
A friend, or a companion, I protest,  
Are names forgot in me: The Altar of Pity,  
So much esteemed and honoured in the City,  
I'll hold as a mere trifle. Commiseration  
On those that grieve or make loud acclamation,  
To give the Needy, or their wants supply,  
Shall be to me as black iniquity.  
Subversion of good manners I'll allow,  
A sad and solitary life I vow,  
Such as Wolves lead, bloodthirsty to the end,  
For only Timon shall be Timon's friend;  
All else my foes, with whom I an at strife,  
As those that still insidiate my life:  
To intercourse with any that hath been  
Before my friend, I le hold a capital sin,  
Deserving expiation: and the day  
I hat I encounter Kinsman in my way,  
I'll think unprosp'rous: for not more I pass  
For Man, than statues made of stone or brass;  
With such I'll hold not covenant. Solitude  
Be thou mine aim and end: as for those rude  
Of mine own Tribe, Cousins and Nephews, or  
Mine own domestic servants I abhor;  
My Country likewise: I to all their shames  
●hall count them as mere cold and barren names.  
The are mad man's Saints, but trifles to the Wise;  
Be thou alone rich, Timon, and despise  
All else: Thyself on y thyself delight,  
And separated live from the loathed sight  
Of Sycophants, (the remnant of thy days)  
Who only swell thee up with tympanous praise.  
Offer thy gifts unto the go●s alone,  
Feast with thyself, be thy own neighbour, none  
Near thee: whatever is thy participate  
Unto thy proper ends,' and Rival's hate.  
It likewise is decreed, That Timon will  
Himself use gently and humanely still,  
Be his own page and servant, when his breath  
Leaves him, his own eyes he will close in death.  
If love vainglory, he'll himselfe renown;  
On his own head his own hand place a crown:  
Not stile of honour be to him so sweet,  
As to be called Misanthropos, 'tis meet,  
Because he hate's Mankind: the Character  
That in all ages I desire to wear,  
Is Difficulty and Asperitie,  
Fierceness, Rage, Wrath, and Inhumanity:  
For should I see a poor wretch wrapped in fire,  
And he to quench him should my help desire,  
I would but laugh to see him fry and broil,  
Seeking to feed the flame with pitch and oil.   

Again, (f) passing by a river's brink,  
And spying one fallen in, ready to sink,  
And holding out his hand imploring aid,  
Craving to be supported up and stayed;  
What in this case think you would Timon do?  
Even dive his head down to the bottom too.  
There are not other laws confirmed, than these,  
By Timon, son to Echecratides,  
Even Timon of Collytte, with his hand  
Subscribes to them, which he'll not countermand.  
OH now at what a dear rate would I buy,  
That present news might into Athens fly,  
And all of them upon the sudden know  
What store I have, how little to bestow.   

What noise was that? See, multitudes come posting,  
Clouded in dust, and breathless, this way coasting?  
I wonder how they smelled my gold? Were't best  
I climb up to yond hill, from whose high crest  
I with more ease with stones may pelt them hence?  
Or shall I rather for this once dispense  
With my harsh laws? to show them all my store,  
With the bore sight thereof to vex them more?  
I hold that best; their coming here I'll stay:  
But soft, what's he that's foremost on the way?  
Gnatonides the Flatterer, who but late  
When I was in my miserable estate,  
And begged of him some food for charity,  
Cast me an halter: yet ingrateful he  
A thousand times hath at my table eaten,  
I an glad yet he comes first, first to be beaten.   Gnaton. 
Did I not ever think the gods above  
Can not neglect, but still this good man love?  
Hail Timon, thou most fair, most sweet, most kind,  
Bounteous, and always of a generous mind.  Tim. 
Hail too Gnatonides, (the corruptest slave  
That ever gourmandised) what wouldst thou have,  
Thou-babes more than many Vultures still devouring?  Gnaton. 
It was his custom always to be pouring  
Harsh jests upon his friends; his quick dicacitie  
Would evermore be taunting my voracitie,  
And it becomes him well. Where shall we dine,  
Or whether go to quaff thy health in wine?  
I have a new song got into my pate,  
Out of acquaint (p) Dythirambs I learned it late.  Timon. 
But at this time I rather could advice  
That thou wouldst study doleful Elegies,  
Such as this spade can teach.  Gnaton. 
OH Hercules!  
Strikes Timon than? with thee, I witness these,  
Before the Arcopagitaes I  
Will have thee called in Court: o I shall die,  
See, thou hast wounded me.  Timon. 
Nay be not go;  
Two labours thou mayst save me so in one:  
Thou-babes shalt complain of murder.  Gnat. 
Timon Not:  
But rather on my broken pate bestow  
Some of thy gold to apply to't, and be sure,  
it's both a speedy and miraculous Cure.  Tim. 
Still stayest thou?  Gnat. 
I an gone. Wondering he's grown  
Of late so rude, that was so civil known.  Tim 
who's he comes next, all bore and bald before?  Philiades: 
I know him of the store  
Of Sycophants most execrable, who wound  
Me in not long since for a piece of ground,  
Besides two talents for his daughter's dower,  
And all that substance did the slave devour,  
Because he praised my singing: when the rest  
Were silent all, he only did protest  
And swore, that I did admiration breed,  
Nay, dying Swans in sweetness much exceed.  
I since being sick, desiring him to have care  
Over my health, the Villain did not spare  
To spurn me from his gate.  Philiades. 
Ingrateful age,  
Dost thou at length know Timon, he, the sage  
And wise good man: full well did he requited  
Gnatonides the soothing Parasite,  
And Temporiser, who is only friend  
To such as of their wealth can know not end.  
But he hath what he merit's, a just fate  
Depending on the Unthankful and Ingrate:  
But we that have been table-guests of old,  
Equals, and fellow Citisens, enrolled;  
Who 'betwixt us interchanged the name of brother,  
And were not chargeable one to another,  
We should renew acquaintance: Sir, God save you,  
And beware henceforth how you do be have you  
To sacrilegious Parasites that appear  
Always at banquets and abundant cheer:  
They are only Smell-feasts, waiting on the Cooks,  
But little differing from base Crows and Rooks,  
Men are of late so'bnoxious unto crimes,  
●here is not trust to any of these times;  
●nthankfull they are all, and bad: but I  
●nowing thy wants, and willing to supply  
●hy present uses, purposed to have brought  
● talon with me; fearing thou hadst owght  
To some harsh Creditor; or might have need  
●or other ends: but by the way indeed,  
learing to what a surplusage of gain,  
●hou hast arrived, I held it a thing vain.  
●et come I of thy bounty to make proof,  
●nd counsel thee of things for thy behoof:  
●ut needless were it, Timon being so wise,  
That (if he lived) he Nestor might advice.  Tim 
'Twas kindly done, Philiades, come near  
●nd see what welcome I have for thee here.  Phil. 
Thou-babes wretched churl; what undeserved punishment  
●ast thou repaid me for my late admonishment?  
●● fear he hath broken my neck.  Tim. 
Behold a third,  
Demeas the Orator; indeed a Bird  
Of the same feather: he hath bills, records,  
●abless, a man merely composed of words.  
●e calls himself my kinsman; who in one day  
Of mine) to the City's Chamber had to pay  
●xteen whole talents, he than in execution:  
●et I redeemed him, and made full solution  
Of all his debts; when he was fast in hold,  
●freed him thence: yet was the slave so bold,  
That coming after unto eminent place,  
Where he with Erichtheiades had grace,  
Who had the charge of the whole Treasury,  
●nd money by account than due to me)  
●e being my feed Advocate as than,  
protested that I was not Citisen;  
Therefore not capable my due to claim:  
Most loudly lying without fear or shame.  Demeas. 

Save thee, o Timon, thou, of all thy race  
The greatest ornament and the prime grace,  
Of the whole State the Column and the stay,  
By whom protected and supported, they  
Live safe: thou art the stay of Greece, we know,  
The people frequently pronounce thee so,  
With either Court: but hear what I have written  
In thy great praise, and than consider it.   

Timon, of Echecratides the son,  
Born in Collytte, who hath never done  
But what become him well; who as he was  
Of unstained life, in wisdom did surpass  
The Graecian Sages; who from himself did steal  
His precious hours, to benefit the Weal.  
He was so good a Patriot, besides strong,  
And from the Olympic wrestling brought along  
Great honours by his swiftness, by his force,  
The four wheeled Chariot and the single horse.   Tim. 
I have not so much as spectator been  
Of what thou sayest I an so eminent in.  Demeas. 
all's one for that, we Orators are free,  
And what's not yet done may hereafter be:  
These are but things of course, and aptly fitted,  
I see not reason they should be omitted.  
But the last year, not longer since, how well  
Did he demean himself, nay how excel,  
When he against the Achernenses fought,  
And their great army unto ruin brought?  
The Spartans' in two battles he subdued.  Timon. 
How can these be? Do not my sense delude:  
I never being soldier, nor had mind,  
Or the lest purpose to be so inclined.  Demeas. 
'tis modesty in you, I must confess,  
To be so sparing of your worthiness.  
But as for us, we should be most ingrate,  
● we your great worth did not celebrated.  
●esides, in Laws, which (truly understood)  
●ave been enacted for the public good;  
●n private consultations about war  
Or peace, he did transcend all others far,  
And brought unto the public State such profit,  
That there is none can speak too loudly of it.  
●or these just causes it is held convenient,  
●nd by the Lords and Commons thought expedient,  
Being a man so generally respected)  
To have a golden statue erected  
To this great Commonwealths man Timon, graced  
●o far, as to be next Minerva placed,  
●n her own Temple, shaking in his hand  
As imitating jove) a fulminous brand,  
Bright rays about his head, and at the lest,  
Decked with seven Crowns, to have his name inereast.  
Next, to have all his glories open laid  
●n the new Tragedies to Bacchus made.  
These solemn Sacreds' must be kept this day,  
And who more fit than he to act them, pray?  
●emect to this decree doth first subscribe,  
Because he count's himself of Timon's tribe,  
His near Alley and kinsman, or indeed  
His scholar rather, for he doth exceed  
●n learning the superlative degree,  
As being all what he can wish to be.  
This is the general suffrage, and thy due:  
But how had I forgot? that to thy view  
I did not bring my son and heir, the same  
Whom I have since called Timon, by thy name.  Tim. 
How can that be, o Demeas, when thou hast  
Not wife at all, pretending to live chaste?  
Thou-babes art a Bachelor.  Dem. 
Tush, do not fear,  
My purpose is to marry the next year.  
If heaven permit, and thou shalt hear relation,  
That all my study shall be procreation.  
Than my first Born (a boy it shall be sure)  
I'll Timon call, to make thy name endure.  Tim. 
But if in this sad stroke I not miscarry,  
'Twill be a doubt if ever thou shalt marry.  Demeas. 
OH me, what means this outrage? art thou wise  
That dost upon thy friends thus tyrannize?  
To beaten him hence, that hath more quick conceit  
And apprehension in this broken pate,  
Than thou in thy great Mazzard: neither can  
This justify thee for an honest man,  
Or a good Citisen: This outrage done,  
Shall question thee before the setting Sun;  
For I dare justify, thou dared aspire  
To set the City's Citadel on fire.  Tim. 
That calumny will to thine own shame turn,  
Because the place hath not been seen to burn.  Dem. 
But being rich, it may suspected be,  
That thou hast robbed the common Treasury.  Tim. 
The bolts and locks are whole, and 'twill appear  
Most vile to such as shall thy scandals hear.  Dem. 
It may be robbed hereafter; i'th' mean time  
Thou-babes thus possessed art guilty of that crime.  Tim. 
Mean time take that, 'twill speed thee if it hit right  Dem. 
OH me; that blow betwixt neck and shoulders light  Tim. 

Shriek not so loud, o Demeas, if thou dost,  
here's a third for thee. Methinks it were most  
Ridiculous, that being unweaponed, I  
Two mighty Spartan armies made to fly,  
And one poor snake not vanquish: so in vain  
The honours from Olympus I should gain,  
To championise and wrestle. Soft, what's he?  
Grave Thrasicles the Sophist it should be:  
The same; I know him by his promise beard,  
And beetle brows: Some things that are not herded  
●● mutters to himself, and his squint eye  
●sts towards the Moon, as should his wits there lie:  
●s unshorn hair beneath his shoulders flowing,  
●bout him scattered with continual blowing:  
●ke Boreas or some Tryton he appears;  
●t such as Zeuxes (since not many years)  
● tables used to figure them. Now he,  
● habit rare and thin, makes toward me,  
icing a modest, but affected gate,  
●● if he had new crotchets in his pate.  
●e huseth too: wonder you would to hear  
in every morning, with a look austere,  
●●spute of Virtue and her excellent quality,  
reproving all delights, only frugality,  
Which he affects) extolling. His first care  
● first to wash, than instantly prepare  
himself to meat, but at some others charge.  
●● soon as set, the boy brings him a large  
●nd brim-filld bowl; not liquor him can scape,  
● it be strong and pressed from the pure Grape,  
●ike Lethe's water, down the wine he pours  
●is yawning throat; talks, At his early hour's  
●hat his Positions were and Disputations;  
troubling the hearers with his vain narrations.  
●ow he gins to gourmandise, and sits  
●overing upon the choice and fattest bits,  
As if the table could not room afford)  
●e strikes his neighbour's elbow from the board,  
● earnest feeding; crumbs hung on his beard;  
●ith several saucers all his chaps are smeared.  
●eing almost gorged, upon the first-fruits he fly's,  
●nd almost grovelling o'er the platters lies;  
●umbling and searching with insatiate mind,  
●ss if in them he virtue hoped to find.  
●ith his long finger having scraped the dish,  
●nd slapt up all the sauce of flesh or fish,  
So clean, that not a waiter, sparelier fed,  
Shall have aught left wherein to dip his bread:  
Still sits he as his greasy fists have shaped him,  
Vexed, that some glorious morsel hath escaped him;  
Though he alone whole custards hath devoured,  
And his wide throat with tarts and marchpanes scoured  
Yet he's not satisfied, although at lest  
He hath gormandized a whole hog at a feast.  
Now the best first-fruits that grow from this voracitie,  
Is to be loud, and prate with great audacity.  
His guts full stuffed, and brains well toxt with wine,  
Himself he spruceth, studieth to be fine;  
Either prepares his squealing voice to sing,  
Or dancing, hops about as he would fling  
His gouty legs of from his rotten thighs.  
Wearied with these, again he doth device  
Of new discourse, and that must chief be  
Of temperance and grave sobriety.   

Now is he made a sport to all the Board,  
Stammers and lisps, speaks not a ready word;  
Than drinks even unto vomit: Last of all,  
To take the nasty fellow thence they call.  
Than there's with both hands lifting; loath he leaves  
The place, and unto some she Minstrel cleaves,  
Ready to ravish her in all their view,  
To show that Lust doth Drunkenness pursue;  
Nay in his best sobriety applying  
Himself to boldness, avarice, and lying;  
In which none can outmatch him, he's a Chief  
Both with the soothing flatterer and Thief:  
For perjury there's not man that transcends him,  
Imposture ushers, Impudence attends him.  
He is an Object of mere observation,  
Or (truly looked into) of admiration;  
A spectacle of scorn, that wonder brings,  
Being made complete from mere imperfect things:  
●ll his imperfections, more or less,  
●ming a kind of modesty to express.  
Most strange! OH Thrasicles, What make you here?   Thrasicles. 

Not with the mind of others I appear,  
Timon, who come flocking to behold  
●ee and thy mighty Magazine of gold,  
●●●haps to steal and pilpher, to be guests  
●usive to thy table and thy feasts;  
●o daub thee with pied flatteries, that indeed  
●● a man simple, and dost Counsel need;  
brainless Prodigal, wholly given to waste,  
●ily parting with what coin thou hast.  
Besides, thou art not ignorant, I an sure,  
●at spare and thrifty diet I endure,  
●e Chop or Fragment best with me agreeing,  
●n just so much as will maintain a Being:  
●● onion is a meat to taste my palate,  
● a few water Cresses a choice salad;  
●●ttle salt cast on them, than 'tis rare,  
● I accounted it most delicious fare.  
● thirst the Athenian fountain sates and fills,  
●ich by seven cocks it plenteously distils.  
●s' threadbare cloak by me is prized more hie  
●an the best robe dipped in the Tyrian dye:  
● Gold, thou know'st that I esteemed not more  
●n I do pebbles scattered on the shore.  
●et for thy sake I hither made access,  
●ing thy wealth, thy goodness might oppress;  
●●g corrupt and vile in it's own being,  
● not way with thy temperature agreeing,  
● rout of irrecoverable ills,  
●●ich seeming most to comfort, soon kills.  
●uled by me, Go instantly and cast  
● the Ocean all the wealth thou hast:  
at need of Gold, when all things we supply  
contemplation of Philosophy?  
But cast it not into the depth I prethes,  
But near the shore, when only I an with thee;  
Enough 'tis if the wave but overflow it,  
To cover it, and (save myself) none know it.   

If this dislike thee, that thou hold'st it vain,  
I have another project in my brain,  
And it may prove the best course; From forth thy do●●  
Precipitate and tumble all thy store;  
And to express a pure abstemious mind,  
Of all thy Mass leave not a piece behind.  
There is a third way (like the second) speedy,  
Namely, by distributing to the needy;  
Who in all ears shall thy donation sound:  
To him five drachmas, give that man a pound,  
A talon to another. If by chance,  
Philosophers of austere countenance  
Hither to taste thy largess shall repair,  
Give such a double, nay a triple share,  
As to the men most worthy. This (alas)  
I for mine own part speak not, but to pass  
Thy bounty unto others that more need,  
And would be thankful, of thy gift to feed.   

For my particular use I crave not more  
Than so much at this present from thy store  
As would but fill my Scrip, the bulk being small,  
Holds two Aegina bushels, and that's all:  
To be content with little, moderation  
And temperance becomes men of my fashion:  
We Sophists, that in wisdom all outstrip,  
Should aim at nothing further than our Scrip.   Tim. 
All that thou speakest I (Thrasicles) allow;  
Yet ever I fill thy wallet, hear me now,  
I'll stuff thy head with tumours, having made  
True measure of thy skull with this my spade.  Thrasic. 
OH Liberty! o Laws! near a free City,  
Thus to be used by one devoid of pity!  Tim. 
Why, Thrasicles, thus angry dost thou show thee?  
●ave I not paid thee the full debt I own thee?  
●ay but a little, and to express my love,  
●ure measures thou shalt have o'er and above.  
●hat further business have we now in breeding?  
●ultitudess hither flock, in throngs exceeding;  
●ere's Blepsias, Laches, Cniphon, and in brief,  
thousand more that hasten to their grief,  
● if they run for blows; see how they flock:  
●herefore I'll climb to the highest part of this rock,  
●old that course is for the present best,  
●nd to my wearied spade to give some rest:  
●f scattered stones I'll gather me an heap,  
●nd from that place I'll make them skip and leap,  
●uring my hail on them.  Bleps. 
Hurl not, we pray,  
Timon, instantly we'll trudge away.  Tim. 
And yet thou shalt with difficulty do't,  
without some bloodshed and deep wounds to boot.    


The Argument of the Dialogue entitled JUPITER and GANYMEDE.  
Ioves' Masculine love this Fable reprehends,  
And wanton dotage on the Trojan Boy.  
Shaped like an Eagle, he from th'earth ascends,  
And bears through th'air his new Delight and joy.  
In Ganymede's expressed a simple Swain,  
Who would leave Heaven, to live on Earth again.   

The DIALOGUE.  jupiter. 
NOw kiss me, lovely Ganymede, for see,  
We are at length arrived where w● would be:  
I have not crooked beak, not talons ke●  
Not wings or feathers are about me seen;  
I an not such as I but late appeared.  Ganymede. 
But were not you that Eagle who late feared  
And snatched me from my flock? where is become  
That shape? you speak now, who but late were dumb  jupit. 
I an not man, fair Youth, as I appear,  
Nor Eagle, to astonish thee with fear:  
But King of all the gods, who for some reason  
Have by my power trans-shaped me for a season.  Ganim. 
what's that you say? you are not Pan, I know:  
●here's' them your pipe? or where your horns, should grow  
●on your temples? where your hairy thighs?  jupiter. 
Thinks Ganymede that godhood only lies rural Pan?  Ganim. 
Why not? I know him one:  
●e Shepherds sacrifice to him alone.  
spotted Goat into some cave we drive,  
●d than he seizeth on the beast alive.  
●ou art but some Childe-stealer, that's thy best.  jupit. 
Hast thou not herded of any man contest  
joves' great Name? nor his rich Altar viewed  
Gargarus, with plenteous showers bedewed?  
here seen his fire and thunder?  Ganim. 
Do you than  
affirm yourself the same, who on us men  
● late poured hailstones? he that dwells above us,  
●●d there makes noise; yet some will say doth love us?  
● whom my Father did observance yield,  
●●d sacrificed the best Ram in the field.  
●●y than (if you of all the gods be chief)  
●●ve you, by stealing me, thus played the thief;  
●●en in my absence the poor sheep may stray,  
the wild ravenous Wolves snatch them away?  jupit. 
Yet hast thou care of Lambs, of Folds, of sheep,  
●●at now art made immortal, and must keep deity with Us?  Ganim. 
I not way can  
conceive you. Will you play the honest man, ●●d bear me backe to Ida?  〈◊〉. 
So in vain  
●aped me like an Eagle, if again ●ould return thee backe.  Ganim. 
My father, he  
this hath made inquiry after me; ●●d if the lest of all the flock be eaten,  
I in his rage an most sure to be beaten.  jup. 
Where shall he find thee?  Ganim. 
that's the thing I fear,  
He never can climb up to meet me here,  
But if thou be'st a good god, let me pass  
Into the mount of Ida where I was:  
And than I le offer, in my thankful piety,  
Another well fed Goat unto thy deity,  
(As price of my redemption) three years old,  
And now the chief and prime in all the fold.  jup. 
How simple is this innocent Lad? a mere  
Innocuous child. But Ganymede now hear.  
Bury the thoughts of all such terren dross,  
Think Ida and thy father's flocks not loss:  
Thou-babes now art heavenly, and much grace mayst do  
Unto thy father and thy country too.  
Not more of cheese and milk from henceforth think,  
Ambrosia thou shalt eat, and Nectar drink,  
Which thy fair hands in flowing cups shalt fill  
To me and others, but attend us still;  
And (that which most should move thee) make thy 'abo●  
Where thou art now, thou shalt be made a god,  
Not more be mortal, and thy glorious star  
Shine with refulgence, and be seen from far.  
Here thou art ever happy.  Ganim. 
But I pray,  
When I would sport me; who is here to play?  
For when in Ida I did call for any,  
Both of my age and growth it yielded many.  jup. 
Playfellows for thee I will likewise find,  
Cupid, with diverse others to thy mind,  
And such as are both of thy years and size,  
To sport with thee all what thou canst device:  
Only be bold and pleasant, and than know  
Thou-babes shalt have need of nothing that's below.  Ganim. 
But here not service I can do indeed,  
Unless in heaven you had some flocks to feed.  jup. 
Yes, thou to me shalt fill celestial wine,  
●nd wait upon me when in state I dine:  
●hen learn to serve in banquets.  Ganim 
That I can  
●ready, without help of any man:  
●r I use ever when we dine or sup,  
●o pour out milk, and crown the pastoral cup.  jup. 
Fie, how thou still remember'st milk and beasts,  
if thou wert to serve at mortal Feasts:  
●ow, this is heaven, be merry than and laugh;  
●hen thou art thirsty thou shalt Nectar quaff.  Ganim. 
Is it so sweet as milk?  〈◊〉 
Prized far before,  
●hich tasted once, milk thou will't ask not more.  Ganim. 
Where shall I sleep a nights? what, must I lie  
●●h my companion Cupid?  〈◊〉. 
So than I  
wain had raped thee: but I from thy sheep  
● purpose stolen thee, by my side to sleep.  Ganim. 
Can you not lie alone? but will your rest  
●me sweeter, if I nuzzle on your breast?  〈◊〉. 
Yes, being a child so fair:  Ganim. 
How can you think  
beauty, whilst you close your eyes and wink?  〈◊〉. 
It is a sweet enticement, to increase  
contented rest, when our desire's at peace.  Ganim. 
I, but my father every morn would chide,  
●●d say, those nights he lodged me by his side  
●uch disturbed his rest; tumbling and ●ossing  
●wart the bed, my little legs still crossing  
● either kicking this way, that way sprawling,  
●f he but removed me, straightway yawling:  
●● grumbling in my dreams, (for so he said)  
often times sent me to my mother's bed:  
than would she complain upon me worse.  
Than if for that you stolen me, the best course  
Is even to sand me backe again; for I  
An ever so unruly where I lie,  
Wallowing and tumbling, and such coil I keep,  
That I shall but disturb you in your sleep.  jupit. 
In that the greater pleasure I shall take,  
Because I love still to be kept awake.  
I shall embrace and kiss thee than the ofter,  
And by that means my bed seem much the softer.  Ganim. 
But whilst you wake I'll sleep.  jup. 
Mercury, see  
This Lad strait taste of immortality;  
And making him of service capable,  
Let him be brought to wait on us at table.    

JUPITER and JUNO.  

The Argument of the Dialogue.  
Juno of Ganymede is jealous grown,  
And much upbraids jove with the Phrygian Swain;  
●illing (before him) to prefer her own:  
●●d therefore blames her husband, but in vain.  
Although this Fable to the gods extends,  
Base sordid lust in man it reprehends.   

The DIALOGUE.  ●●●o. 
SInce this young Trojan Swain to heaven thou hast brought,  
OH jupiter, thou settest thy Wife at naught.  Jupit. 
Of him too art thou jealous, a poor Swain,  
●ough beautiful, yet innocent and plain?  
●ss in hope thou only hadst a spleen  
women, such as I before have been  
●●miliar with.  〈◊〉. 
Nor hast thou made expression  
thy great deity in such transgression,  
●r done such things as have thee well beseemed;  
●o being a god above the rest esteemed,  
Descendest down to earth, making it full  
Of thy Adulteries: somtimes like a Bull;  
Than like a golden Shower, and keeping still  
Those Prostitutes below to s●te thy william  
But now again, Thou-babes, mightiest of the deities,  
Jest that there should be end of thy impieties;  
Being now inflamed with an unheard desire,  
Hast this young Phrygian Lad snatched from his Sire,  
Brought hither to outbrave me, and set odds  
Betwixt us, filling Nectar to the gods.  
Is there such want of Cup bearers? or weary  
Is Hebe yet, or Vulcan, to make merry  
Thy Guest's inurned? that not so●ner thou  
Tak'st from his hand the bowl, but strait to bow  
And kiss his sweet lip, nay in all our sight:  
In that kiss seeming to take more delight,  
Than in the Nectar drunk: but which is worst,  
Often callst for drink when there's not cause of thirst;  
And as in sport (but sipping) thy arm stretchest,  
And the full Chalice to the Wanton reachest,  
And he but tasting, as shall please him best,  
Than to his health carowsest all the rest;  
And in the same place where his lip did touch,  
Thou-babes tak'st thy draught, thy lewd desire is such,  
With heedfulness and care noting the brim,  
So, at once kissing both the cup and him.  
Not long since too, this King and potent Father  
Of men and all mortality, the rather  
To sport with him, his Sceptre laid aside,  
And thunders, with which late he terrify'de  
The lower world. And speak, was not this wrong  
To a Brow so great? a Beard so full and long?  
All this I have seen, all these I have endured,  
And nothing's done that is to me obscured.  jupiter. 
why's this to thee so grievous, o my wife,  
That it should raise betwixt us the lest strife?  
That a young Lad, so f●ire and sweet as this,  
●hould please me both with Nectar and a kiss?  
shouldst thou but taste those lips (which I an joth)  
●hou wouldst not blame me to prefer them both  
●efore all Nectar and Ambrosia too;  
●ay, if thou didst, even so thyself would do.  juno. 
These are the words of masculine love, much hated,  
●● or an I mad, to be degenerated  
● base effeminacies as to take delight  
● the loathed kisses of a Catamite.  jup. 
Pray (you most generous) do not so deprave  
●hose loves and pleasures I an pleased to have:  
●his pretty sweet effeminate Lad to me  
● dearer far— but I'll not anger thee.  juno. 
I wish in my place you had that Lad wedded,  
●ith whom you ofter than with me have bedded  
●nce his arrive: your loathed wife shall bethink her,  
●ow better to behave her toward your Skinker.  jup. 
Is't only fit, Vulcan thy son should fill  
nectar, who being lame is apt to spell;  
●nd bluntly running from the furnace, smells  
● smoke, dust, sweat, and what I know not else,  
●ith sparks scarce quenched, before the gods to stand,  
●s sooty tongs new laid out of his hand,  
●o take from him the goblet? which being done,  
●o embrace, than kiss thy most deformed son;  
●hom scarcely thou his mother wouldst so grace,  
●aring his smudged lips should begrime thy face.  
●he that only sweet Youth must adorn  
●he gods high banquets, being made their scorn?  
●●d therefore must this Phrygian be confined,  
●●cause he's clear in looks, as pure in mind?  
●hose face so smooth, whose tongue doth so excel,  
●●d in all points becomes the place so well.  
●t that which most torment's thee, since his kiss  
●ny degrees more sweet than Nectar is:  juno. 
Now Vulcan unto thee (o jove) seems lame,  
His forge, his apron, tongs, and tools, thy shame:  
What nastiness? What loathsomnesse? but he  
Now at this instant doth appear to thee  
Infected with; whilst thou before thee hast  
That fair faced Trojan Lad? but in times past,  
None of this foul deformity was seen,  
Not sparks, not soot, not dust to move thy spleen:  
His furnace in those days did not affright thee,  
But than his filling Nectar much delight thee.  jupit. 
Thou-babes makest thyself sick of thy old disease,  
OH juno, and this Trojan doth more please,  
Because of him thou'rt jealous: if thou scorn  
From him to take the Cup; of thyself born  
Thou-babes hast to fill thee, Vulcan, one so smug,  
As if he gaped still for his mother's dug.  
But thou, o Ganymede, to me alone  
Reach the rich bowl. Two kisses for that one  
I'll give thee still, when I receive it first,  
And when return it, having quenched my thirst,  
Why weepest thou? fear not, they that mean thee harm  
Mischief are sure to taste. Sweet boy thine arm.    

JUPITER and CUPID.  

The Argument.  
GReat jupiter on wanton Love hath seized,  
Ripping up injuries before time done;  
And hardly is the Thunderers rage's appeased,  
●ut holds him fast that is about to run.  
●he childish wag submissive language useth,  
●nd with what art he can himself excuseth.   

The DIALOGUE.  Cupid. 
WHerein have I, o jupiter, transgressed;  
That by thy power I should be thus oppressed?  
Being a child, and therefore simple?  jupiter. 
Thou-babes  
● child at these years, Cupid? who I vow,  
●rt older than japetus, hop'st thou to win  
●avor, because not hair upon thy chin  
appears? and thou art beardless? but beguiled  
●ust we be still in holding thee a child?  
●eing both old and crazy?  Cup. 
I pray tell  
●his subtle old man, whom you know so well,  
●hat wrong he'hath done, that you would bind him?  jup. 
See,  
Thou-babes wretch, dost think it a small injury,  
To make me such a mockery and a jest  
To all men: that a god should to a beast  
Transshape himself: into a Satire, than  
Into a Bull, an Eagle, and a Swan:  
Next to a golden Shower? all these thoust made me.  
But that wherein thou chiefly hast betrayed me,  
My will by force or sleight I must obtain,  
But never love, to be beloved again:  
Nor by thy power have I more gracious been  
To my wife juno the celestial Queen;  
But forced to use prestigious strange disguise,  
In all my escapes to hid me from her eyes.  
Besides, our mutual pleasures are not full,  
They only kiss an Eagle or a Bull:  
But should I in my personal shape appear,  
Even at my sight (poor things) they die with fear.  Cupid. 
That only shows thy power and divine might,  
Since mortal eyes cannot endure thy sight.  jup. 
How comes it, Hyacinthus is so dear,  
And Branchus. to Apollo? Is his Sphere  
Moore bright than ours? yet they about him cling,  
In his own shape.  Cup. 
But Daphne that coy thing,  
Though he showed young and beardless, his cheeks read,  
And each way lovely, his embraces fled.  
If love than would be amorous, and apply  
Himself to Love, his shield he must lay by,  
And fearful thunders, smoothly comb his hair,  
And part it both ways, to appear more fair:  
Wear on h●s head a Chaplet for a Crown,  
And flowing from his shoulders a lose gown  
Died in Sidonian purple: on his feet  
Sandals, whose the with golden buckles meet:  
Unto the Pipe and Timbrel learn to dance,  
And foot it to them finely: so by chance  
Moore glorious Beauties may to him incline,  
Than Maenads attend the god of Wine.  jup. 
Away: I more esteem my regal state,  
Than to appear so poorly effeminate:  Cup. 
Love not at all, and that's more easy far.  jup. 
Yes, love I must, whilst here such Beauties are,  
And gain them with less trouble, maugre thee.  
●o for this time be gone.  Cup. 
I now an free.    

VULCAN and APOLLO  

The Argument.  
Betwixt Vulcan and Apollo speech is held  
Of young Cillenius, Maia's newborn son;  
How he in cheats and theeving hath excelled:  
Relating strange things in his cradle done.  
Since whom, all infants born beneath his star,  
In craft and guile exceed all others far.   

The DIALOGUE.  Vulcan. 
HAst thou not seen (Apollo) the young Brat●  
So late brought forth by lovely Maia? tha●  
Looks in his swaths so beautifully fair  
Snarling on all such as about him are;  
Whom not one that beholds him, but surmises  
That he is born for some great enterprises?  Apollo. 
Shall I (o Vulcan) him an infant call?  
Or think him born for any good at all?  
Who for his craft and subtlety (I vow)  
Is than japetus older.  Vulcan. 
Tell me how?  
What wrong can this young Baby do, I pray,  
Who came into the world but yesterday?  Apollo. 
Ask Neptune that, whose Trident he hath stolen:  
Demand of Mars, (with rage and anger swollen)  
Whether his brain lest subtlety afford?  
Out of whose scabbard he hath stolen his sword?  
Or let me speak what by myself I know:  
From me unwares my quiver and my bow  
He slily snatched.  Vulcan. 
How can it be, his hands  
Being tied up so close in swathing bands.  Apollo. 
Yet be not thou too confident, I entreat thee,  
For come he near thy shop, he'll likewise heat thee.  Vulcan. 
He was with me but now.  Apollo. 
Dost thou misdoubt thee  
Of nothing lost? hast all thy tools about thee?  
What, not one wanting?  Vulc. 
None.  Apollo. 
Free from his wrongs  
Art thou alone?  Vulc. 
By Jove I miss my tongs,  
they're stolen out of my forge.  Apoll. 
These thou shalt find  
About him hide, do but his swaths unbind.  Vulc. 
Hath he such catching fingers? (passed believing)  
●ure in his mother's womb he studied thieving.  Apollo. 
Didst thou not hear him, Vulcan, talk and prate  
With voluble tongue, and phrases accurate?  
Now in his infancy, so young, so small,  
Offering to be a servant to us all.  
●o sooner born, but Cupid he did dare  
To try a fall with him, and threw him fair.  
●im Venus for his victory embraced,  
●or which he steals her girdle from her waist.  
jove smiling at the theft, and therewith pleased,  
●ean time the crafty wag his Sceptre seized:  
●o steal his Trisulc he had made a shift,  
●ut 'twas too heavy for his strength to lift.  Vulc. 
Thou-babes tellest me of a Lad active and daring,  
A nimble juggling jack.  Apollo. 
Nay, he's not sparing  
To profess Music too.  vulc. 
How is that known?  Apoll. 
The invention too he seeks to make his own:  
Having the shell of a dead Tortoise found,  
He makes an instrument thereof for sound;  
To which a crooked neck he first made fast,  
Boring therein round holes, and in them placed  
Pins to wind up the cords by: to the Shells backe  
A belly frames: seven strings, which he doth slack,  
And sometimes stretch, he fixeth; which but touch,  
They yield a sweet sound that delighteth much.  
Whose notes I envy, be they flat or sharp.  
Since he contends to exceed me in my Harp.  
Even Maia's self I often have herded complain,  
She cannot in the heavens her son contain:  
His everwaking brain, in action still,  
Can take not rest: by night (against her will)  
In silence he conveys himself to hell,  
Whether to steal aught thence she cannot tell.  
Besides, he hath wings, a Caducaeus too  
Of a miraculous power, and force to do  
Things wonderful, by which he can bestow  
Souls hence departed, in the fields below,  
Or thence convey them hither.  Vulc. 
Most sure I will  
Add something to encourage his rare skill.  Apoll. 
Which he hath well requited; for to day  
(Not longer since) he stolen thy tongs away.  Vulc. 
'Twas well done to remember me of this,  
Because my tongs are tools I cannot miss.  
Somewhere about him they are still, not doubt:  
But first the fire I'll in my forge put out.    

MERCURY and APOLLO.  

The Argument.  
OF jove and of Alcmene: The long night  
In which the great Alcides was begotten,  
●his Fable speaks. And if I guess aright,  
〈◊〉 this the Author much profaned not,  
To tax the heathen Idols his pretence is,  
Since men are punished for the gods offences.   

The DIALOGUE.  Mercury. 
TO thee, o Phoebus, jupiter doth say,  
Forbear to mount thy Chariot for this day;  
The next too, and the third, disclose not light,  
●t for that time make it continual night.  
●●epe in, command the Hours thy steeds to untrace,  
●nd thy bright Sun beams pluck from of thy face.  
●r, without intermission being oppressed  
●ith such long pains, 'tis fit thou shouldst have rest,  Apollo. 
Thou-babes tellest me a new thing, unheard till now;  
●●ve I transgressed my course, or been too slow,  
●● over-swift? that jove should prove a way  
●● make the night thrice longer than the day.  
there's not such thing; he only hath intent  
At some one aim on which his mind is bend,  
And this time only (but not still to be)  
To have this one night made as long as three.  Apollo. 
Where is he now, or from whence art thou sent To tell me this?  Merc. 
Boetia's continent;  
And from (If I shall make a true confession)  
Amphitrio's wife, with whom he hath congression.  Apoll. 
With her his courage than and strength he tries  
But for his lust will not one night suffice?  Merc. 
OH by not means, since in this copulation  
Must be begotten one that shall awe each Nation;  
Of a most potent arm, and daring much,  
And therefore 'tis not possible that such  
A mighty work as making up joves' son,  
Should in one night be perfected and done.  Apollo. 
Well, I but little have to say unto him,  
But with this great work much good may it do him.  
These things, o Mercury (we are alone)  
i'th' ancient days of Saturn were not known;  
He did not turn from Rhea, nor misled  
Can he be to adulterate her chaste bed:  
Nor did he leave the heavens, in Thebes to sleep;  
The day was than day, and true course did keep,  
The night within her certain hours was bounded,  
Not times, not seasons in his reign confounded:  
He had with mortal creatures not congress.  
But now for one poor woman's sake (I guess)  
All things are topside-turned, and must be made  
Preposterous henceforth, and run retrograde.  
My Steeds with rest will grow more fierce and hot:  
The way more hard and difficult, because not  
In three days past: Men miserably devil  
Here on the earth in darkness, as in hell.  
And these are the fair first-fruits of his foul lust,  
That sublunary creatures suffer must;  
Warning at once the absence of the Sun,  
●nd waiting till this mighty work be done.  Merc. 
Phoebus not more: had jove intelligence  
●f what thou speakest, his rage it would incense.  
●e to the Moon and Sleep, and what in charge  
●ad from him, deliver them at large:  
●o her, to change the course she late did keep:  
●o him, to setter them in bonds of sleep,  
●o fast, they may not dream of that great wrong,  
●o have been kept from sight of day so long.    

MERCURY and MAIA.  

The Argument.  
HErmes his tedious labours doth complain,  
As troubled more than all the gods besides,  
Not able his employments to sustain,  
As one that in not certain place abides.  
Yet by his mother he at length is swayed,  
Who tells him joves' hests must be still obeyed.   

The DIALOGUE.  Merc. 
IS there among the gods (o Mother) any So wretched as myself, though there be ma●  Maia. 
Take heed, my son, what thou spea● rashly.  Merc. 
Why?  
Can you name one that hath such cause as I?  
Who have so many businesses in hand,  
And those so great I scarce beneath them stand;  
Into so many services divided,  
I an tired and spent, and for my pains derided.  
For in the morning, ever I can device  
Of what my dreams were, I betimes must rise,  
Than my first office is to sweep the house  
Where all the gods must banquet and carouse  
That done, I next prepare the Consistory,  
Whereas the Deities in all their glory  
appoint their meetings: all things I make fit,  
That they in ease as well as state may sit.  
Than at joves' elbow I attend, where he  
●till sends me on his errands: I must be  
●ere, there, and every where, and these too all  
●urrying together; for he'll sometimes call  
●ss soon as I an sent. When the whole day  
● have toiled, not having time to wipe away  
The dust and sweat, new labour I begin,  
●upper comes on, and I must than serve in  
Ambrosia: ever the Phrygian had to do  
With joves' crowned Cup, I filled him Nectar too.  
●ut what of all's most tedious, and accites  
●e to this spleen, I cannot rest a nights;  
●or whilst each other god upon his bed  
●akes due repose, even than I of the Dead  
●nd new deceased have charge, and through the shade  
●o Pluto's Court I see them safe conveyed.  
●hese done, I cannot rest me where I list,  
●ut at their general Sessions I assist,  
●or nothing's done without me. 'Tmight suffice,  
●hat I all daily business enterprise:  
●● Wrestle I an present, at the Bar,  
●here Causes and Law-Suits determined are',  
●struct such Orators as Fees desire;  
sometimes supply the place of common Crier.  
●or would these things appear so great a trouble,  
●t that the affairs of hell make them seem double.  
●●e sons of Leda much more happy be,  
●hey interchangeably have leave to see  
●he heaven and hell by turns; while one doth show  
●●mselfe above, the other stays below.  
Than these how much more miserable an I,  
That in one person both their pains supply?  
Alcmene and Semele (of mortal seed  
Descended both) have free access to feed  
Among the Deities: yet I on these  
(Being son of Maia Atlantiades)  
An forced to 'attend, I came from Sidon late,  
As sent from jove, to know in what estate  
Cadmus fair daughter was. Almost quite spent,  
Not having time to breathe, but I was sent  
To Argos and fair Danae, in that tower  
Where he was welcomed in his golden shower.  
In thy return come by Boetia backe,  
(Says jupiter) o Hermes do not slack  
To visit fair Antiope by th'way.  
My resolution is not more to obey  
Unto his busy hests: To gain mine ease,  
I had much rather (did the Fates so please)  
Myself for ever to the earth retire,  
As a day-Laborer, and work for hire.  Maia. 
Not more, my son, for thou too much hast said;  
Thy father must in all things be obeyed.  
Able and young thou art, prepare again,  
To Argos first, and to Boetia than:  
Hazard not stripes of him that sways above:  
Such are most angry that are crossed in love.    

VULCAN and JUPITER.  

The Argument.  
Wlcan obeying to joves' high design,  
With his keen hatchet cleaves his head in twain:  
armed Pallas, who there full ten months had lain,  
●t this incision leaps out of his brain;  
●hen entering first the world. Whence we may gather,  
knowledge and Arts had birth from jove their Father.   

The DIALOGUE.  Vulcan. 
WHat must I do, jove? Prithee let me know:  
See, I an come, for thou commandedst so;  
●●d brought with me an Axe sharp above wonder,  
●hose very edge will cleave a rock in sunder.  jupiter. 
'tis well done, Vulcan, it must be thus apply'de,  
●ou with that hatchet must my head divide.  Vulc. 
Wouldst thou persuade me unto madness? say  
●at's to be done, or pack me hence away.  
● pleasure is, with a strong blow and full,  
●●th all thy force thou part in two my skull.  
If thou refuse to do't, as fearing skath,  
Thy timorousness will but increase my wrath  
And deep displeasure: therefore strike I say,  
Instantly, boldly, and without delay:  
Quickly deliver me, I an full of pain,  
A thousand throws are labouring in my brain.  Vulc. 
Well look to't jupiter, my axe is keen,  
Nor can this birth be without bloodshed seen.  
'Twill be a dangerous wound made in thy head;  
Believe't, Lucina brings not thus to bed.  jupit. 
Strike boldly than, o Vulcan, fear not blood,  
For I know best what for myself is good.  Vulc. 
Though ''gainst my will, I shall, who dares withstand  
When jupiter himself shall give command.  
what's here? A woman armed leaps on the Plain:  
OH jove, thou hadst much mischief in thy brain.  
Not marvel thou wert angry and much paind,  
When in thy Pia mater was contained  
A live Virago, armed, and having spread  
Castles and towns and towers about her head;  
She leaps and capers, topped with rage divine,  
And danceth (as she treads) the Matachine,  
Shakes her steele-pointed Lance, and strikes her Tardge  
As if she had the god of War in charge.  
Nay, which is more, she is exceeding fair,  
And ripe for marriage, made in all parts rare,  
And amiable, only she hath blue eyes,  
But those her graceful helm doth well disguise:  
And therefore jupiter, because I have  
Thus played the midwife for thee, what I crave,  
Grant me for my reward, namely that she  
May be my wife, this day espoused to me.  Jupit. 
Thou-babes demandst that which cannot be allowed,  
For this Minerva is a Virgin vowed,  
Nay, a perpetual Votary: but if I  
In this could do thee any courtesy,  
Thou-babes mightst presume't.  Vulc. 
It is my great desire,  
●nd to my best of wishes I'll aspire  
● waiting time to rape her.  ●upit. 
OH my son,  
●hou aim'st at that which never can be done:  
●e vows to live a Virgin, let that guide thee,  
●rsue not things which never can betid thee.    

NEPTUNE and MERCURY.  

The Argument.  
THE abortive Infant from the womb taken late  
Of dying Semele, jove doth translate  
Into his own thigh: but the time expired  
For mature birth, which (pregnant) he desired;  
This child, by one conceived, born of another,  
Bacchus, enjoys the name of 
* Bacchus' bimater●  double Mother.   

The DIALOGUE.  Nep. 
MAy I not see my brother?  Merc. 
Neptune, no.  Nep. 
I do entreat thee, Nephew, let b● know  
That I attend without.  Merc. 
It cannot be,  
And therefore leave this importunity;  
You must not at this present be admitted.  Nep. 
he's than in bed with jano?  
Not, (Gross witted.)  
Or Ganymede? Prithee resolve me quickly.  Merc. 
Neither; but jove at this time's weak and sic●  Nep. 
How comes it that thou likewise look'st not well?  Merc. 
There is a cause in't, which I blush to tell.  Nep. 
What ever it be, the secret do not hid  
From me thy Uncle, and so near allied.  Merchant 
he's newly brought to bed.  Nep. 
Mercury fie,  
Not possible; it is a thing that I  
Cannot believe: it would have come to light  
●re now, had jove been an Hermaphrodite.  
Besides, I never perceived his womb to swell.  Merc. 
'tis true, in that (o Neptune) thou sayest well:  
His childing burden did not lie within.  Nep. 
Now to conceive thee better I begin;  
●ome other Pallas from his skull is ta'en;  
My Brother ever had a teeming brain.  Merc. 
Not so; this burden in his thigh was bread,  
Taken from the womb of Semele, late dead.  Nep. 
Wondrous! This generous god, by thy relation,  
Will teach to us new ways of procreation.  
But what's that Semele?  Merc. 
Of Cadmus' race,  
A Theban Damsel, in whom jove had place,  
And left her great.  Nep. 
Most kindly it was done,  
To spare her throes, himself to bear her son.  Merc. 
Guest somewhat near; not altogether, though,  
●umping with truth. But wonders will't thou know,  
From thee yet foreign? juno (jealous still)  
By strange deceit seeks means the wench to kill;  
Persuades her (their united loves to sunder)  
To beg of jove, to bed with her in thunder  
And blasting lightning (cause of all her grief.)  
To her the credulous Wanton gives belief;  
The craves, jove grants, descends in glorious fire,  
And in these flames the poor Girl doth expire.  
Who grieving the fair Theban so should die,  
Caused me to rip her womb up instantly,  
And bring the Infant, now seven months conceived,  
Whom from my hand he gratefully received:  
Not knowing better how to make provision  
For this Abortive, he made deep incision  
In his own thigh, and there it three month's lay,  
Till (now mature) it for itself made way.  
This day he is delivered, and now grows  
Somewhat distempered by his painful throws.  Nep. 
But where's the Infant?  Mere. 
Him I did transport  
To Nisa late, where the fair Nymphs resort,  
By them with great care to be educated,  
And by the name of Bacchus celebrated,  
Or Dionysius.  Nep. 
Than of this thy brother,  
As jove the father is, so he's the mother.  Mere: 
It so appears: but Neptune I an gone,  
For other things I now have thought upon;  
I must go fetch him Lotion for his wound,  
Yet green, and will in few days scarce be sound.  
there's nothing but to him we must apply,  
that's done to women that in childbed lie.    

DIOGENES and MAUSOLUS.  

The Argument.  
THe dead Mausolus doth himself advance  
Before all others of the buried Throng:  
And therefore he erects his countenance,  
Because on earth he was so fair and strong.  
Diogenes derides his boasting vain,  
And proves himself more happy of the twain.   

The DIALOGUE.  Diog. 
ATtend, o Carion, what is thive intent  
To be even still so proud and insolent?  
Prating of thy great worth, others to brave,  
As if thou for some great desert wouldst have  
Before us all precedence.  Maus. 
I first claim  
Priority, raised from a kingdom's name,  
(OH Synopesian) for I empir'd o'er  
All Caria: next, I pierced the Lydian shore,  
There governed Nations barbarous and rude:  
Besides, I many other Isles subdued.  
The greatest part of jonia I laid waste,  
And my great army to Miletum past.  
Nay more, I was of beautiful aspect,  
Tall and well shaped, and (what I much affect)  
In power (before me) I exceeded all.  
But that which made me most majestical,  
Of costly marble from the rock dissected,  
I have a stately monument erected  
In Halicarnassus, famed for magnitude,  
With rare and never equalled pulchritude,  
So fair, so large, that all that see it know,  
Not King that ere deceased the like can show.  
Statues of men and horses about it stand,  
Graven and carved by a most elaborat hand;  
In which expression Artists were at strife,  
Not one of them but imitating life;  
Of such admired height and spacious room,  
It rather seems a Temple, than a Tomb.  
What wrong is't than, my glories not to smother,  
And to claim a precedence before other?  Diogenes. 
Is't potency? is't beauty? or rich stones  
In such huge number heaped upon thy bones,  
That swells thee with such pride?  Maus. 
By jove the same.  Diog. 
And yet Mausolus, thou that hast the name  
Of Beautiful, thy strength is not all one,  
Nor face that was; both now are past and go:  
For an unpartial Umpire should we choose  
To point the Fairer out; let him but use  
An unswayed eye, not squinted with affections,  
Shall find small difference in our two complexions:  
For both our heads are bald and alike bore,  
Having not lips, our teeth apparent are;  
Neither of us a nostril hath to show,  
But through these empty holes alike we blow.  
This being granted, if because thy shroud  
Beneath so great a Structure make thee proud,  
And that thy countrymen that Mole retain,  
Boasting of it with ostentations vain,  
To show to strangers the rare excellence  
Of polished stone; what profit reap'st thou thence,  
Thou-babes exquisite man? unless thy shallow wit  
Accounted thy greatest hurt a benefit;  
To have of huge stones, wondrously conveyed,  
Agreater heap than others on thee laid.  Maus. 
An I not whit the better than for these?  
●s Mausolus one with Diogenes?  Diog. 
Not so, good man, not paritie's confessed;  
The Carian King shall be with grief oppressed,  
Excruciated and perplexed in mind,  
To think of his great pleasures left behind,  
Honours and wealth: Diogenes the while  
At thy vexation stand aloof and smile.  
Thou-babes in thy lasting memory shalt have  
The art and charge bestowed upon thy grave,  
By thy fair sister and thy widowed Queen,  
●n Halicarnassus still to be seen.  
When as Diogenes yet doth not know  
Whether on earth he have a grave or not;  
Therefore can take not care for't. My fame lies  
Tombed in the bosoms of the Just and Wise.  
Stories to future times deliver can,  
● lead a life that did become a man  
Time shall thy Structure waste, but never mine,  
Thou-babes impure Carian) for 'tis made divine:  
●ly monument grows nearer to the sky,  
●s built in place much more sublime and hie.    

CRATES and DIOGENES  

The Argument.  
NAture with too much darkness overcast,  
Is masked and blinded with the world's affairs,  
Still doting upon things that cannot last,  
As on vain frailties fixing all their cares.  
" Man that on mundane things himself assures,  
" Cheats all his hopes; 'tis Virtue sole endures.   

The DIALOGUE.  Crat. 
TEll me Diogenes, hast thou not known  
Rich Moerichus, the man so overgrown  
With wealth superfluous, that from Corinth came  
With ships so richly fraught? the very same,  
Cousin to Aristaeus thought to be,  
By computation full as rich as he:  
Tkese two betwixt themselves use Homer's phrase,  
Claw me, I'll claw thee; Let's live many days.  Diog. 
What was the reason, Crates, first did move  
These moneyed men to interchange such love?  Crat. 

The cause they were entired so, and called brother,  
Was, aiming to be heir to one another,  
Being equally possessed: and therefore they  
Published their Wills; If Moerichus his day  
Should before Aristaeus chance to fall,  
He the succeeder than should enjoy all.  
So Aristaeus, If he died before,  
Than Moerichus was heir to all his store.   

This by Indenture sealed, they cog, speak fair,  
Flatter, in hope to be each others heir,  
With gifts and presents mutually contending,  
Yet still one gaping for the others ending.  
Insomuch that Diviners (whether skilled  
i'th' stars or not I know not) all have filled  
Their itching ears with Novels. Dreamers too  
Like the Chaldaeans) have enough to do  
To mock them with vain hopes, and at high rate  
Having betwixt them cast so even a fate,  
Phoebus himself was puzzled: first agreeing,  
That Aristaeus should have longest being;  
And than again, That Moerichus the Old  
Should count new days when he had all his told:  
Not knowing whose ambition should prevail,  
Their Fates being balanced in so even a scale.   Diog. 
But what's become of this their time outwearing?  
speak freely Crates, 'tis a tale worth hearing.  Crat. 
Those that each others state sought to betray  
●y bribes and flatteries, both died in one day;  
●nd that huge Magazine did chance to arrive  
To those whom they scarce thought of, being alive,  
Thrasicles and Eunomius their Alliance:  
●et the Diviners in their great pre-science  
Never spoke of them. Now the two rich men, they,  
●earelesse, still hoping with the Fates to play,  
●eing from Sycion unto Cyrra bond,  
●ere in the mid way near japygium drowned.  Diog. 
Not matter, Crates, but when we were living,  
There was not emulation, not such striving  
To be each others heir; never did I  
Desire of heaven, Antisthenes should die,  
To be made his Executor; or sum  
His days, in hope his staff to me might come.  
Nor do I think thou ever didst desire  
(OH Crates) I the sooner might expire,  
To inherit my possessions, and to strip  
Me from my Tun, and pulse left in my scrip.  Crat. 
I had not need of them, nor thou to claim  
His staff for legacy, since thou didst aim  
At a much fairer heritage, to be  
Bettered by him, as I have been by thee;  
And that in treasures richer and more hie,  
Such as the Persian Empire cannot buy.  Diog. 
And what be those?  Crat. 
Wisdom, frugality,  
Truth and good life, in all these liberty.  Diog. 
By jove, I well remember I had store  
Of these from him, but thou (o Crates) more.  Crat. 
Yet others that have thought themselves more wise  
All such inheritances much despise;  
Nor sycophant they us, such things to attain  
By us, as we from him were proud to gain,  
They only thirst and hunger after gold.  Diog. 
Not marvel, since they all of them have sold  
Themselves to Ignorance, not capable  
Of Knowledge and instructions profitable;  
Having their minds with dissolute lusts infected,  
Like foul and loathsome dishes long neglected,  
Grow fured and sluttish with voluptuous sin,  
Corrupting the most choice Cates served therein.  
The are full of rifts and crannies, every hour  
Greater than other: therefore should we pour  
Into these leaking Vessels, judgement sound,  
Or Truth, or Freedom, all drop to the ground,  
Through their crazed bottoms, and lie spilt and wasted,  
Much with their putrid noisomeness distasted:  
So Danaus' daughters here in hell are said,  
●aboring with Sives a flowing Spring to unlade)  
And yet even those that can not goodness keep,  
Will watch gold falling from them, and eat sleep,  
Hoarding it with all care.  Crat. 
And so 'tis best  
We do those virtues we in life possessed.  
●ocke they their stuffed bags in chests never so strong,  
They shall but one poor halfpenny bring along,  
●nd that not further than to Charon's barge;  
The Ferryman will ease them of that charge.    

CHARON, MENIPPUS, MERCURY  

The Argument.  
CHaron the Ferryman exclaims upon  
Menippus, for not paying him his fare,  
By him being wafted over Phlegeton;  
For which these two at great dissension are.  
Charon is forced to pardon it in the end;  
For he that nothing hath must nothing spend.   

The DIALOGUE.  Char. 
PAy me my fare, thou wretch.  Menip. 
Nay, scold outright,  
If thou to hear thyself speak tak'st light.  Char. 
My due for thy trajection down here lay.  Menip. 
I prithee how can he that hath not, pay?  Char. 
Is't possible there any one can be  
That is not worth a single halfpenny?  Menip. 
I know not to whom else thou pratest here,  
But for mine own part I have none I swear.  Char. 
I'll baste thee with this ship-rope, if my hire  
Thou-babes tenderest not.  Menip. 
Than shall my staff aspire  
To fly about thy ears.  Char. 
So long a cut  
Must I take pains to waft thee, and thou put  
To not expense at all?  Menip. 
Let Hermes stand  
●ngaged for me, who gave me to thy hand.  Merc. 
By jove, in time I shall be ill bested,  
●f I be put to pay fares for the dead.  Char. 
He shall not so pass from me,  Men. 
For his sake  
continued still thy course, and quickly make  
●owardss the shore; What to thy share can fall  
●●om him who (as thou seest) hath naught at all?  Char. 
Didst thou not know what thou shouldst bring along?  Menip. 
'tis true I did, but can excuse the wrong;  
●ad it not, because I want to give,  
●t therefore fit that I should ever live?  Char. 
Will't thou be he than, who alone canst boast  
●● have ferried this great river without cost?  Menip. 
Not so, o Charon, wanting to defray,  
●hou hast my pains, I pumped part of the way,  
●●en tugged at the oar, being that only soul  
●ho in thy barge did neither mourn nor howl.  Char. 
Tush, these are nothing to my fare that's due,  
●y down my halfpenny, my fare, in view.  Men. 
Not having it, best way to end this strife,  
That thou Charon bear me backe to life.  Char. 
For that Gramercy, so I might be sure,  
●●om Aeacus a beating to endure.  
●hiss base Ghost would persuade me to the whip.  Men. 
Be not so peevish than.  Char. 
what's in that scrip  
●●ou keep'st so close about thee?  Men. 
A small cheat,  
●ittle pulse for Hecate to eat.  Char, 
Tell me, o Mercury, whence hast thou brought  
This Dog to us? a wretch that mindeth naught.  
What strange things talked he by the way, I guiding  
The helm, whilst he was all the while deriding  
The passengers? what a loud coil he kept,  
He only singing whilst the other wept?  Merc. 
Know'st thou not him? he hath a spirit daring,  
he's bold, free spoken, and for nothing caring:  
This is Menippus, (Foole.)  Char. 
Well, if again  
I take him here,—  Men. 
Thou-babes threatnest me in vain:  
This passage, though not for betwixt shore and shore,  
Yet once being past, cannot be travelled more.    

MENIPPUS, AEACUS, PYTHAGORAS, EMPEDOCLES, and SOCRATES.  

The Argument.  
IVdge Aeacus doth to Menippus show  
The obscure Ghosts and Sulphur Vaults below.  
And after that he brings him to the Plain  
Where both the Valiant and the Wise remain:  
●ho as the freeness of his tongue him guide's,  
(Wretched himself) their sorrows he derides.   

The DIALOGUE.  Menip. 
NOw even by Pluto I entreat thee show  
(OH Aeacus) to me the Vaults below.  Aeac. 
Not all, Menippus, that were hard to do:  
●ut such especially as belongs unto  
●hy late demand, namely the prime and choice;  
● these content, I'll listen to thy voice.  
●hou know'st that to be Cerberus, and him  
●he ferryman, who from the river's brim  
●ajected thee: this, Periphlegeton:  
●hat the Lake Styx, thy eyes now devil upon.  Men. 
I know both thee and these, Aeacus the Great,  
Who in this porch hath a determined seat.  
To observe all entrance, I have likewise seen  
The Furies, with the internal King and Queen.  
The men of old I now desire to see,  
Precelling others in nobility.  Aeac. 
This Agamemnon is, Achilles he,  
That Idomen, a third ranked in degree,  
And next them placed: The fourth discovered,  
Ulysses, Ajax than, next Diomed.  
The rest, the far famed Graecian Heroes are.  Menip. 
OH thou ingenious Homer, see how bore,  
How grovelling and how dejected lie,  
How low the heads of thy great Rapsodie:  
Ignoble and obscure they now are all,  
Ashes and dust, trifles in value small;  
For (as thyself said) nothing hath production,  
But's mutable and subject to corruption.  
Now Aeacus what's he?  Aeac. 
Cyrus he's called.  
Now he that next him sits so much appalled,  
Croesus the Rich; Sardanapalus than,  
Who was the most effeminate of men:  
Beyond these Midas, and that Xerxes,  Menip. 
How?  
Is it my fortune than to meet thee now  
(Thou-babes wickedest of wretches) in this plight,  
Who once didst put whole Greece into affright?  
That o'er the raging Hellespont mad'st bridges,  
And with thy fleet hadst purpose o'er the ridges  
Of mighty mountains to have sailed ('tis known.)  
But what a poor Snake is that Croesus grown?  
Pardon me, Aeacus, for above all,  
I have a great mind with Sardanapal  
To go to present buffets.  Aeac. 
Do not so.  
He is so weak and womanish, the lest blow  
Will break his skull to pieces.  Men. 
As I can  
I'll gripe him though, half woman and half man  Aeac. 
Will't thou see those in wisdom did surpass?  Menip. 
By any means.  Aeac. 
Behold Pythagoras.  Men. 
Hail, thou Euphorbus, or Apollo, or what  
Thou-babes wouldst be called by else, I give thee that.  Pythag. 
Hail to thee likewise.  Men. 
Speak and do not lie,  
Hast thou about thee still thy golden thigh?  Pythag. 
I have it not. But tell me, I entreat,  
If thou hast aught within thy scrip to eat?  Men. 
Pulse, nothing else: Thy words are merely waste,  
For that I know thy palate cannot taste.  Pythag. 
Yet give me part; among us here below  
Doctrines are taught which than we did not know.  
As namely, That there nothing is to boot  
Between a Bean and a Satyrion root.  Aeac. 
Cast thine eyes further now, for besides these,  
here's Solon, son to Ercecestides,  
●●aless and Pittachus, With the other Sages,  
Whose memories shall live to after-Ages:  
●nd these alone seem pleasant 'amongst the rest,  
●econd and free, as with not cares oppressed.  Menip. 
Covered with ashes from the toe to the head  
●hat might he be, that looks so like to bread  
●ked on an hearth unswept, blistered beside,  
●ss if he late had roasted been, or fry'de?  Aeac. 
Empedocles.  Men. 
He that from Aetna came,  
●alfe broiled of late, I know him for the same:  
●hou excellent of foot, what was the cause  
●hou threw'st thee headlong into Aetna's jaws?  ●●ped. 
Madness it was, Menippus.  Menip. 
Not, by jove;  
But a vain arrogance, pride, and self-love,  
With madness added, though thou didst not see't:  
These scorched thee, with the sandals on thy feet.  
Thou-babes Worthless, what have all thy feign bread,  
Being now as others thrust among the Dead.  
But Socrates, o Aeacus, where's he?  
The only man I now desire to see.  Aeac. 
With Nestor and Palamedes consorting,  
And those with whom he best love's to be sporting.  Menip. 
Yet were he here, I would salute him feign.  Aeac. 
Behold than that bald Fellow.  Menip. 
All are plain  
And without hair: it is an equal note,  
As well among these, as in place remote.  Aeac. 
He without nose.  Menip. 
Why, among great and small,  
I cannot spy one wise among them all.  Socrat. 
Dost thou seek me, Menippus?  Menip. 
Thee alone.  Socr. 
How stand all things in Athens? long ago  
It is since I came thence.  Menip. 
Many young men,  
Puny and junior Sophists, such as than  
Dared not have talked in public, now look hie,  
and openly profess Philosophy.  
Nay, who their habits shall observe, the gate  
Must needs confess that they still imitate  
The old Philosophers. thoust seen, I know,  
How Aristippus to these Vaults below,  
And Plato came: daubed with sweet unguents, the one:  
The other in smooth flatteries, cast upon  
The Tyrant of Sicilia.  Socrat. 
But of me  
What censure they?  Menip. 
A blessed Ghost to be,  
And one, in those days, whose predicting tongue  
Spoke of all things that to this place belong.  
And therefore they admire thee, hold thee rare,  
With whom none of the Sages might compare;  
Above them skilled, of such things speaking truest,  
Yet (sooth to say) I think more than thou knewest.  Socr. 
I spoke of these things as my skill enabled,  
Which they held dreams, and that I merely fabled.  Menip. 
What are these three about thee?  Socr. 
In a word,  
Charmides, Phedrus, Clima's son the third.  Menip. 
'tis well done (here too) to profess thy Sect,  
And use those thy fair followers with respect.  Socr. 
What can I better do, myself to please?  
Come than, sit down, and by us take thy ease.  Menip. 
Not I, by Jove, but instantly return,  
To hear Sardanapal and Croesus mourn:  
Next to these two my mansion I will keep,  
Of purpose to deride them when they weep.  Aeac. 
I must be gone too, and have special care  
Jest some ghost steal hence whilst we absent are.  
My place is where thou foundst me, next the door;  
When next we meet, I'll show thee ten times more.  Menip. 
I thank thee Aeacus, even with my heart:  
We have seen enough at one time, now let's part.    

NEREUS, THERSITES, MENIPPUS.  

The Argument.  
BEtwixt Thersites and Aglaia's Son  
A sudden emulation is begun,  
Which of them both (being dead) is now most fair.  
The Moral shows, In death alike we are.   

The DIALOGUE.  Ner. 
TO end this new born strife, Thersites see  
Here comes Menippus, he shall Umpire be.  
Prithee thou Cynic thy free censure tell  
Which of us two in beauty most excel.  Menip. 
Resolve me first, Who are you that thus seek  
To make me judge?  Ner. 
I Nereus the fair Greek.  there's. 
Deformed Thersites I  Men. 
But tell me now,  
Which (a) Nereus, which (b) Thersites? for I vow  
I cannot guess.  there's. 
In this thou art o'ercome,  Nereus: 
Menippus cannot give his doom,  
We are so like. What though blind Homer boast,  
And style thee fairest of the Graecian host?  
What though my thin and unkemb'd scattered hair  
Fallen in long Elfe-locks from my scalp, now bore?  
Do not my living ouglinesse revile,  
Death ranks us now together in one file.  
Therefore to have this difference quickly ended,  
Now judge (c) Menippus.  Ner. 
An not I descended  
From Charopes and Aglaia, famed so far  
'Bove all that came unto the Trojan war,  
For my rare beauty?  Menip. 
But Nereus know,  
None bring their beauty to these Vaults below.  
Of the fine flesh thou brag'st of, worms have fed,  
Leaving thee naught save bones, like us now dead.  Ner. 
Ask Homer, of what fame Nereus was than,  
And he will answer, The most fair of men;  
Ascribing Beauties praise fully to me.  Men. 
Thou-babes tellest me dreams: I judge by what I see.  
If among them that known thee in those days  
Thou-babes wert so famous, seek from them thy praise.  Ner. 
An I not than the fairest?  Menip. 
Nor he, nor thou,  
Nor any one that is among us now,  
Can claim precedence: for equality  
Reigns 'amongst the Dead.  there's. 
And that's enough for me.    

JUPITER, MERCURY, JUNO, PALLAS, VENUS, and PARIS.  

The Argument of the Dialogue, entitled Deorum judicium.  
THe Trojan Paris, being yet a Swain,  
Is made the judge of Ate's golden Ball.  
Three goddesses contend, but two in vain;  
Venus (fair Beauty's Queen) prevails above all.  
With Youth, her frail gifts are more potent charms,  
Than Juno's state, than Pallas Arts or Arms.   

The DIALOGUE.  jupit. 
TAke (Mercury) this Apple, and make speed  
To Phrygia, there where Priam's son doth feed  
His herds of Cattles; thou art sure to found him  
In Ida mount, the part that's now assigned him  
Called Gargarus: and thus much to him say  
From Jupiter, That we command him stay  
All other his affairs; for being young,  
And beautiful withal, of a quick tongue,  
Whom most for amatorious things commend,  
Him we appoint this doubtful cause to end,  
And he alone shall the prime Umpire be,  
To tell which goddess is the fairest of three:  
She that's crowned Victress by the Trojan Boy,  
For meed this golden Apple shall enjoy.  
This is the hour that calls you to be gone:  
I an not competent judge to take upon  
Me this arbitrement, since I approve,  
They all have equal portion in my love;  
And, were it possible, I would renown  
Each several Beauty with a Victor's Crown,  
As bee'ng to me like dear. Whoso shall give  
The Palm to one, he cannot choose but live  
In envy of the other: therefore I  
Allow me not fit judge. Go than, apply  
Yourselves in haste unto that Phrygian Swain,  
Who is descended of a regal strain,  
And Cousin to my Ganymede; a Youth  
Simple, (as mountain-bred) who naught save truth  
Knows, and there's none that hath beheld his face,  
But would esteem him worthy this great grace.  Venus. 
For my part, jupiter, what would I care,  
If in this censure, Which should be most fair,  
Thou-babes wouldst us instantly to Minos sand,  
What can he find in me to reprehend?  
However I an confident, yet these  
'tis likewise fitting the young man should please.  juno. 
Neither have we, o Venus, cause to fear,  
Should Mars your Sweetheart be made Umpire here.  
But to this Youth selected we assent,  
And (be he what he will) we rest content.  jup. 
Is this your mind, my lovely Pallas? Tush,  
I now perceive you turn your eyes and blush:  
Such bashfulness becomes chaste Virgins still;  
I take thy silence for consent, thy will  
I find with there's hath correspondence: Go,  
And from young Paris thy precedence know;  
But take this charge from me, In those that speed not,  
Malice or spleen against the judge it breed not,  
Nor the young man with any mischiefs threat,  
Since all of you alike cannot be great.  Merc. 
Proceed we than: this path directly leads  
Unto those Phrygian pastures and fair Meads;  
I'll show the way, you follow me apace,  
Be all of courage, I both know the place,  
And Paris too, a beautiful young man,  
And in these amorous contentions can  
As much as any; fit to undergo  
This charge, and will not judge amiss, I know.  Venus. 
All this is as it should be: I delight  
In one not partial, that will censure right.  
But is he yet a Bachelor, canst tell,  
Or doth some Wife or Damsel with him devil?  Merc. 
I cannot say he's altogether clear  
And free from women.  Ven. 
how's that? let me hear.  Merc. 
There life's with him a smug Idaean Lass,  
Sufficiently fair, and one may pass  
Among the rest, but rustical, as bread  
In the same mountain where his herd is fed:  
Often in familiar conference I have seen them,  
But taken not note of any love between them.  
Why ask you Venus?  Ven. 
For not ill intent;  
It came into my thoughts by accident.  Miner. 
Ill dost thou, Mercury, and us much wrong,  
To hold us in fad conference so long.  Merc. 
Not so Minerva, lovely Venus spoke  
Nothing ''gainst you; only she chanced to make  
A question, if this Paris had a Bride.  Mincrv. 
If nothing else, why didst thou closely hid  
Such talk from us?  Merc. 
She spoke the word by chance;  
To keeped from you was but my ignorance.  Miner. 
Hath he none than?  Merc. 
It seems not.  Miner. 
Doth he incline  
To military Arts and discipline?  
Is he of warlike spirit, from a strain  
Ambitious after glory? or mere Swain?  Merc. 
In that you plunge me; but as I can guess,  
Being young and strong, what can he promise' less,  
Than prove a hopeful soldier?  Ven. 
Well, you see  
I'plaine me not, nor is it grief to me,  
That you two spoke in private; these complaints  
Fit jealous heads, but none of Venus' Saints.  Merc. 
Take nothing ill, fair Venus, I beseech,  
For truly to resolve you, her late speech  
To yours had reference: Than (as you are wise)  
Presume this, naught can bate you of your prize;  
The self same answer that to you I made,  
I gave to her. i'th' mean time whilst we trade  
In this discourse, the greatest part assigned us  
Of this our way we have passed, and left behind us  
The stars already; Phrygia is not far,  
For in our view Ida and Gargarus are';  
And if I be not much deceived, I spy  
Paris the judge that must your beauties try.  juno. 
But I see not such man  Merc. 
Close by me stand,  
And cast your eye that way, toward the left hand,  
Not to the mountain top, but to the side,  
Where you may spy a cave's mouth gaping wide,  
By which a fair herd's grazing.  juno. 
Not such sight mine eyes are guilty of.  Merc. 
Look here forthright,  Merc. 
Just as my finger points, and in your sight  
Will fall a goodly herd of Beefs and Cows;  
Not where the rock unto the steepest grows,  
But towards the middle part, somewhat descending,  
Behind them comes a Swain, it seems, intending  
To keep them close together, jest they stray,  
Down from the rocks he makes his speediest way;  
Holding withal a sharp goad in his hand.  juno. 
Now Hermes I begin to understand:  
If that be he, I spy him.  Merc. 
'tis confessed:  
But being now so near the earth, 'tis best  
(If so you think it fitting) we descend.  
And towards him a moderate pace extend;  
Jest sousing on the sudden from an hie,  
The frighted Swain may take his heels and fly.  juno. 
Hermes speaks well: Let's all at once alight,  
You (Venus) in this way have best insight,  
As she therein best skilled, who (as Fame tells)  
Upon this mountain often in caves and cells,  
To satiate your lust, and pay Love's debt,  
In Vulcan's absence with Anchises met.  Venus. 
juno, your scoffs and taunts are ill apply'de,  
Nor do they move me.  Merc. 
Come, I'll be your Guide,  
These well known paths I did of custom tread,  
When jupiter first loved his Ganymede;  
They were than frequent with me, as being sent  
Still to and from, to accomplish his intent:  
When hither like an Eagle he descended,  
I present was, (for always I attended,  
And in his rape assisted) at what time  
He snatched him hence, unto you place sublime.  
The Lad by chance close by his Fold was fitting,  
Voice to the pipe, the pipe to his voice fitting.  
jove soaring high, down on the sudden shifteth,  
Behind him falls, and at an instant lifts  
Him gently from the earth, his crooked bill  
Fastening upon the wreath the Lad kept still  
About his brows, gripping and holding fast  
Yet (without harm) the affrighted Youth, who 'aghast,  
Turns his head the clean contrary way,  
Not knowing what to think, much less to say:  
His oaten pipe he than let fall through fear.  
But leaving this discourse, we now draw near  
The judge we came to seek for. Herdsman God save thee.  Paris. 
The like to thee young man: I only crave thee  
To be resolved, What art thou? and to tell  
What are these fair one's that in shape excel?  
They are not such as daily we behold  
Upon these hills their flocks to graze and fold,  
But fairer much.  Merc. 
Know, these not women be,  
But of more high strain and sublimity;  
That, juno; that Minerva; Venus she,  
And I the son of Maia, Mercury.  
jove greets thee thus: Why do thy spirits fail?  
Why trembl'st, and so suddenly look'st pale?  
●eare not, there is not danger, his command  
●s, Thou-babes betwixt these the unpartial Umpire stand,  
Of their choice features: Thus he bade me say,  
●ince thou thyself art beautiful, and may  
Though in this Ida there be Lovers many)  
Yet in these compliments compare with any.  
Therefore to thee this judgement I commit,  
As unto him that best can censure it:  
behold this Golden Apple, and advice,  
●Tis of the choicest beauty, the rare prize.  Paris. 

Pray give me leave, what's there inserib'd to view;  
●ive to the Fairest this as Beauties due.  
●ow can I, my Lord Mercury, bee'ng human,  
●nd lest of Mortals, a mere rustic swain,  
Be a sufficient judge? that jove should prove me  
In matters weighty and so far above me?  
Such desceptations would be better tried  
In cities walled, where men are solely apply'de  
To delicacies: what more can you expect  
From me, than censure those that I protect;  
To say, that she Goat is than this more fair,  
And that this Heifer may with that compare:  
To judge of such I may perhaps have skill;  
But these are beautiful alike, and still  
The more my ravished eyes upon them devil,  
The more they seem in beauty to excel:  
Such admirable parts in all I spy,  
From none of them I can retract mine eye;  
Where first it fastens it insists, and thence  
I hardly can withdraw mine Optic sense:  
How an I than distracted several ways,  
Where still the present Object I must praise?  
Where having dwelled with pleasure, if by chance,  
Upon a second I shall hap to glance,  
Mine eye's taken captive and surprised again,  
For thence I strive to ransom it in vain.  
What judgement can I give, when I protest,  
The beauty that is nearest will show best:  
Than what a tumult it within me breeds,  
When as by birthright each of them succeeds?   

In brief, who to my true sense can restore me,  
Their pulchritudes being circumfused all o'er me?  
As if my weak conceivements to confounded,  
At once they circled and involve me round;  
Now I could wish I'had eyes behind, before,  
And that I were like Argos, (eyes all o'er)  
Just, only I shall than my judgement call,  
When I this Apple can dispose to all.   

Let me collect myself! This is the Wife  
And Sister to Great jove, with whom to have strife  
Were dangerous. These two his daughters, and  
''Gainst them how can my opposition stand,  
Without much prejudice?   Merc. 
All I can say,  
'tis Jove's command, thou must perforce obey.  Paris. 
One thing persuade them, Mercury, I entreat,  
That the two Vanquished would nor rage's nor threat;  
But to impute it, if they loose the prize,  
To the frail weakness of a Mortals eyes.  Merc. 
They so have promised: but the time draws on,  
That now thy sentence must be called upon.  Par. 
Than to please one, I'll dare the spleen of two,  
For in this strait what lesse can Paris do?  
Yet one thing, Hermes, I with leave would know,  
Is it enough to judge by the outward show,  
Perusing them thus habited and clad?  
Or wert not fit a nearer course were had?  
To have them all stripped naked, that mine eye  
May view them with more curiosity?  Merc. 
A question that from sound discretion grows,  
And being judge, they are at thy dispose.  Paris. 
At my dispose? Than I will have all three  
Stripped to their skins.  Merc. 
He'hath spoken; so it must be.  
Unbrace yourselves, put of, and nothing hid;  
Whilst he surveys each part, I'll turn aside.  juno. 
Well apprehended, Paris, and see, I  
Disrobe me first: Now this way turn thy eye,  
Behold my white wrists, and my arms quite bore,  
And are not these incomparably rare?  
I an nor staring, nor yet narrow eyed,  
These two the marks of Cowardice or Pride;  
Where ever thy curious eye shall now invade,  
I'm equally and uniformly made.  Paris. 
Disrobe you likewise, Venus.  Minerva. 
Not in haste,  
Till she hath ta'en her girdle from her waste,  
And cast it by; that first thing let her grant thee,  
For, Paris, she's a Witch, and will inchant thee,  
Being long studied in prestigious guiles,  
And apt to circumvent thee with her smiles.  
Nor was it meet she should have come thus gay,  
Tricked up in colours and such rich array,  
Her cheeks with sundry paintings plastered o'er,  
Like to some Prostitute or obscene Whore:  
When nothing but bore form and feature true  
Should be exposed unto the judge's view.  Paris. 
Of that enchanted Belt you well advice;  
Cast it away.  Venus. 
Why doth not she likewise  
Her glorious plumed helmet cast aside,  
Or heave the brim that doth her forehead hid,  
Displaying her uncovered face and breast,  
But with her truncheon strikes upon her crest,  
As if she meant the judge to terrify,  
That he th'upright cause might not verify?  
Or else (her threatening Burgaret cast hence)  
Her blue faint eyes might give the judge offence.  Miner. 
There lies mine helmet.  Venus. 
There my girdle by.  juno. 
We now all bore to thy inspection lie.  Paris. 
OH jove, thou Wonder-maker, make me bold.  
What glorious objects do I now behold!  
What pulchritude? What extasy'de delight?  
What a rare virgin's that? how fair, how bright?  
But she, how venerable? nay, divine?  
What royal power within her front doth shine?  
What majesty? yet intermixed with love,  
She alone worthy to be wife to jove  
How lovely shines the t'other in my face?  
With what a moving irresistible grace?  
Her tempting lips, so paralleled in meetness,  
Whisper to me all blandishment and sweetness.  
Of this unbounded surplusage of pleasure,  
I an now sated in abundant measure:  
Therefore so please them to my will atone,  
I gladly would peruse them one by one;  
Being ambiguous in myself, and doubt,  
(Distracted thus) I shall not long hold out:  
How can my brain or eye be truly guided,  
Being at once so many ways divided.  Venus. 
So let us do.  Paris. 
You two yourselves retire;  
But juno stay.  juno. 
It is my sole desire.  
And when thou hast with thy acutest eyes.  
Perused this feature, voided of all disguise,  
And with thy most inquisitive eyes made way  
Through all that thou canst possibly display,  
I'll give the rest place. Great is my donation,  
If I prevail by thee: make proclamation,  
That I an Vict'resse, and take Juno's word,  
I'll of all Asia make thee King and Lord  Paris. 
I an not swayed with gifts; but be you gone,  
what's right and just must now be thought upon.  
Draw near, Minerva.  Miner. 
See, I an at hand:  
If in this strife of Beauty first I stand,  
And thou pronounce me fairest; from thy cattles,  
I'll bring thee unto many a glorious battle,  
From whence thou, vanquished never shalt retire;  
I'll make thee a prime General, and aspire  
To deeds of fame and honour, in all which  
Thou-babes shalt be conqueror, crowned with triumphs rich.  Paris. 
Of thundering wars I (Pallas) have not fear;  
Peace (as you see) is published every where,  
Phrygia and Lydia are now both at rest,  
Neither with foreign nor home-broiles oppressed,  
My father's Empire is in quiet: yet  
Think not that I your noble gifts forget;  
You may hope well, yet know me thus far stayed,  
I being judge must not with bribes be swayed:  
Take up your garments, put your Helmet on,  
 seen sufficient, you may now be gone.  
Now your time calls you, Venus.  Venus. 

I an here,  
And be not sparing, Paris, with eyes clear  
Contemplate me in all and every member,  
Pass nothing cursorily, but still remember  
What now thou seest; fix both thy eyes and heart  
Not in one place, but all and every part,  
And where the object pleaseth let them devil;  
Than truly judge if I the rest excel.   

Whilst th'other senses are full feasted here,  
Lend me (o Fair one) for a while thy ear;  
 seen thee often, and have observed thee long  
To be a Youth more beautiful and strong  
Than any other here in Phrygia bread;  
So I have thought, so I have often said.  
Yet as I for thy curious parts commend thee,  
For some things I of force must reprehend thee;  
Who 'amongst these crags and rocks consumest thy prime  
Spending thy beauty, which will fade by time,  
In solitudes, with beasts that peopled are,  
And not in cities, who can judge what's rare:  
What (prithee) in these mountains canst thou gain?  
Thy Beefs and Cows shall censure thee in vain,  
Thou-babes' art lost among them: it should be thy pride,  
(Richly arrayed) to seek thee out a Bride,  
Not Shepherdess or rustic Damsel, such  
As Ida in abundance yields too much.  
I would have thee find out some Crecian Queen,  
Such as in Argos are, or Corinth seen,  
Or in Lacena. Now I call to mind,  
there's Spartan Helen; o that thou couldst find  
And compass her: to thee I make confession,  
she's young and beautiful beyond expression,  
Nay in all parts both outward and interior,  
(Still view me) not way to this shape inferior;  
And what above these should inflame thy mind,  
She is not coy, but affable and kind:  
Who had she seen, as I behold thee now  
(All fortunes quite relinquished) would, I vow,  
As knowing not way to be better sped,  
Fly to thy arms, thy bosom, and thy bed.  
Perhaps of such an one you have herded tell.   Paris. 
Never, o Venus, but you please me well  
In her description: on: to whatsoever  
You speak of her, I'll give attentive ear.  Venus. 
She was the child of Leda, than her mother,  
(●ill she outstripped her) lived not such another.  
For Leda was joves' Paramor, who than  
To have of her fruition, like a swan,  
Down sousing came from heaven, by whose congression  
Helen, is joves' own daughter, by succession.  Paris. 
Of what aspect is she?  Venus. 
White without spot;  
And needs she must, being betwixt two Swans begotten:  
That she is soft and tender, agrees well;  
Conceived and born too in a smooth white shell;  
Naked she wrestles often for exercise,  
And from these games returns with many a prize:  
●utorss from all parts have come thronging to her,  
And happy he could find the grace to woe her.  
Nay, such as have been forced to go without her,  
Not only threatened, but raised war about her.  
Even Theseus held her choice of all his blisses,  
Nor could he stay till she were ripe for kisses,  
●ut ravished her yet young: but when she came  
●o a full feather, her unequalled fame  
Grew with her feature: than the Optimates,  
Princes, and of the Argives the chief States  
Solicited her Nuptials: the prime man  
Was Menelaus the Pelopidan,  
He would and won; and yet if thou agreed,  
Her and her Dower I will confer on thee.  Paris. 
what's this you speak? will you your pains employ  
To give me, whom another doth enjoy?  Venus. 
Is that a thing which difficult appears?  
Thou-babes art as young in knowledge as in years.  
I promise' what I can perform with ease.  Paris. 
Show me the means how, and it well shall please,  Venus. 
Than thus; Thou-babes shalt a voyage undertake  
To travel through all populous Greece, and make  
That thy design. Now when thou shalt arrive  
At Lacedaemon, Helena will strive  
To give thee welcome. What shall than succeed  
Leave to my care, for thy it shall not need.  Paris. 
But this appears incredible to me,  
Impossible and merely absurd, that she  
Should leave a husband, kingdom, and a Crown,  
Subjects and servants, and all these her own,  
Forsaking land, to hazard the seas danger,  
To follow me, a rude guest and a stranger.  Venus. 
Be thou of courage; for the same intent  
I have two lovely children shall be sent  
Thy Guides and Captains, who with all facility  
Shall work my ends: (Cupid and Amabilitie)  
Cupid shall altogether undermine her,  
And to thyself impulsively combine her.  
With thee shall Amabilitie persever,  
At all occasions be about thee ever;  
By whose infusion thou shalt be inspired  
To 'appear to her much lovely, most desired.  
I will be present there, the more to friend thee,  
And will entreat the Graces to attend thee,  
Who shall be thy companions; all together,  
What cannot we compel her to? and whether?  Paris. 
And yet, fair Venus, I an still in doubt,  
By what safe means this may be brought about.  
I love that Helen, though as yet unknown,  
And (by what means I know not) I an grown  
Enamoured of her; for beholding thee,  
(OH Venus) now methinks I Helen see.  
Methinks for Greece I now an under sail,  
In Sparta an safe landed, and prevail;  
That I behold her in her beauty's pride,  
And bring from thence a bright and glorious Bride.  
Why, ever begin, do I applaud the end?  
I grieve I act not what I apprehended.  Venus. 
Be not too forward in thy love, I prithee,  
But (o thou fairest of Near herds) take me with thee;  
Dote not too soon, nor be thou over-speedy,  
Till I myself thy Bride bed have made ready,  
Having first reconciled you: with condition  
That I of this great prize may have fruition.  
'Twill grace your marriage when as Victress I  
Shall present be at that Solemnity,  
And after all such busy pain and toil,  
Unto my triumph add thy glorious spoil.  
Do but thou make this golden Apple mine,  
She with her love and bridebed are all thy.  Paris. 
And yet perhaps when you have gained this prize,  
You may neglect, and me (a Swain) despise.  Venus. 
Shall I swear to thee?  Paris. 
Not, it shall suffice,  
That you have passed your promise.  Venus. 
Hear me than,  
(OH thou most fair and beautiful of men)  
● vow, all lets and cavils set aside,  
This hand shall give thee Helen for thy Bride;  
That from all future dangers I'll defend thee,  
And in thy journey carefully attend thee,  
That she shall follow thee, and prostitute  
Both will and body to thy amorous smile:  
That I'll be there to see howall things stand,  
And have in all these an assistant hand.  Paris. 
But will you bring along ranked in their places  
Cupid and Amabilitie, with the Graces?  Venus. 
Doubt not I will, and to make quick dispatch,  
Desire and Hymen, to conclude the match.  Paris. 
For these, and these alone, as fairest of all,  
Venus, to thee I give the golden Ball.    

JUPITER and IO.  

The Argument.  
IO, of whom we next discuss,  
Daughter toth' River Inachus,  
(The fairest Nymph that lived that time,  
As being in her youth and prime)  
Was seen by jove loved, and compressed.  
Queen juno, Hircius, as of the rest,  
Grown Jealous o'er, doth project lay,  
How in their sports them to betray.  
Whom to prevent (I know not how)  
But jove transhapes her to a Cow.  
The Goddess knowing how endeared  
She was to him, comes to the Herd,  
And begs this Heifer. He not dared  
(However the request seemed hard)  
Her to deny. she's now her charge,  
And naught her freedom can enlarge.  
The passages that hence may grow,  
The sequel will hereafter show.   
Enter 16, Daphne, with other Nymphs called Naiads, the Daughters of the Rivers near adjacent. Io. 
HEre, Daphne, by your father Peneus streams  
(which falling from the top of Pindus' mount,  
Waters Hemonian Tempe) let us sit,  
All daughters to the Rivers flowing near:  
There old Apidanus steals (murmuring) by;  
Next, Poplar-shadowed Enipeus glides:  
Not far, Amphrisus, Aeas, and 'amongst these,  
(Not lest) my father, good old Inachus  
Lists up his reverend head, with fresh flowers crowned,  
Prescribing laws and limits to his streams,  
To bond them in their channels, kerb their torrent,  
Jest in their pride they should o'reswell their banks;  
Commanding them, through thousand strange indents  
To pay his plenteous tribute to the seas.  Daphne. 
And how much are we bond unto the gods,  
(Fair Io) to be Nymphs, not generated  
From marish Meres, nor yet from standing Lakes,  
From sedgy brooks, thick pools, or shallow fords,  
Nor yet from violent and robustuous seas.  
Their waters keep a smooth and gentle course,  
Not moved to fury by the warring winds;  
Nor when loud fluxes fall to swell their bounds,  
And make deep inundations on the meads:  
Nor can the parching drought so dry their springs,  
But that their channels keep a temperature:  
Their modest shallowss serve us for cool baths  
In summer time to play and wanton in:  
Their depths, to bate our hooks with worms and fly's  
Fastened to lines made of small twisted silk,  
And so betray the creatures of the flood.  
Their crystal waves are Mirrors, in the which  
We dress our heads, and put these curls in form,  
Sometimes so cunningly, as if that Art  
Had power to exceed Nature: and again,  
With careless, but so curious a neglect,  
As if mere Chance did antecede them both.  
This makes us of the Satyrs so admired,  
And of the Fauns and Swains so much beloved.  Io. 
Why, have you Suitors, Daphne?  Daphne. 
Besides such,  
For these my father, by whose will I an swayed)  
Accounts as mean) of Gallants I have change;  
●oth City and the Court.  〈◊〉. 
But I may claim  
Priority above all water Nymphs,  
Nor can the Naiads compare with me;  
Not, Daphne, not yourself. The rural Swains,  
●hey gather from these banks mellifluous flowers,  
●nd make you chaplets to adorn your brows,  
●nd shadow your choice beauty from the Sun,  
●ay think them costly Presents: but I'm one  
To whom the gods themselves have offered gifts.  
Than before all the daughters of these floods  
● claim a just precedence.  Daph. 
By what dream,  
●r rather by what brainsick fantasy  
●ath Io been deluded?  〈◊〉. 
My apprehensions  
●●e not weak phantoms to beguile the sense,  
●●t real, and in action; with their form  
●hey bear a being substance.  Daph. 
Hath your Beauty  
●●d among men such long and strange neglect,  
●●at Io would to colour such disgrace,  
accuse the gods of weakness?  〈◊〉 
Let earth's Beauties  
●ensure of Earth, mere terren as yours be,  
●●d aim not further: the while this of mine  
●●all be new questioned by the Powers Divine.  Daph. 
Now by what gods, for Heavens' sake?  〈◊〉 
Not the meanest,  
●● such as we call under-deities,  
● melancholy Saturn, (by his son  
●iled and banished from the supreme rule)  
Phoebus, a mere Vassal to the earth,  
And forced each natural day to measure heaven;  
As Neptune, Sovereign o'er the Seas, to whom  
Our tributary rivers hourly pay:  
As Mercury, though son to jove himself,  
Not better than his Footboy or his Page,  
Compelled at every summons to his speed:  
But of the potent Thunderer.  Daph. 
He of whom  
You have learned to thunder these impossible braves.  
Io, I an ashamed.  Io. 
Yes, that your beauty's  
Composed of the grosser elements,  
Want that attraction to call jove himself  
Down from his heavenly Fabric, to behold  
Us in our eminence.  Daph. 
Strange wonder sure,  
To look upon that face in which we Mortals,  
And value it at best, can nothing spy,  
Breed admiration in a Deity!  A noise of thunder. Enter jupiter in his glory, his Trisull in h●● hand burning; at sight of whom they stand affrighted. Io. 
Appear, jove, in thy glory, let them know  
Ei, shamed confess their fond surmises vain,  
And what it is, thy godhead to profane.  Daph. 
Fly, fly, jest we be thunderstruck, away;  
Let's seek our safety, danger's in our stay.  〈◊〉 jup. 
Thou-babes Daphne, who joves' presence now dost eat,  
Swifter ere long shalt from, Apollo run.  
But there lie that which makes us terrible,  
Affrighting gods and men. Io to thee  
In calms I come, and Fair one make me proud,  
To seal the love which I so long have vowed.  Io. 
What steal? what vow?  jup. 
Both thou shalt find impressed  
On thy smooth cheek, soft lip, and Ivory breast,  Io. 
Forbear to handle; yet I never known  
A man so bold and rude: Can gods dispense,  
To teach us Women unknown impudence?  jup. 
Nay rather we solicit you to prove  
What yet you have not tried, the sweets of love.  Io. 
Things that I would not learn.  jup. 
A Truant still?  
If you want art, Io, I can teach you skill:  
Give me your hand, your lip: why these but are  
The Prologue to a pastime much more rare.  
Women by nature are ambitious, and  
Long to know what they do not understand.  
I'll practise you in that which you before  
Never known.  Io. 
In all this lip-sport? or what more  
Is in these kisses meant? I an so dull,—  jup. 
All these my Comment shall explain at full.  
In vain you strive.  Io. 
Should I do aught save well,  
I were undone, my father's floods would tell;  
These are his banks, they'll blab: What mean you? fie;  
They swell above their bounds, only to spy  
And see what we are doing. Pish, away,  
Such deeds of darkness can you do by day?  
Besides, shall I consent to what you mean,  
Not all these silver drops can wash me clean.  jup. 
Where I do stain I can again make pure:  
And that Day shall not hinder us, be sure:  
Arise you fogs and damps, your vapours gather,  
To shrowded us both from juno and thy father.  Io. 
You make me blush.  A great damp ariseth. jup. 
These blush's none shall see;  
Behold these mists, to curtain us and thee.  Io. 
Well, when what most you sue for, you have wone,  
My comfort is, I see not what is done,  jup. 
And Io now I'll teach thee sports untried,  
In darkness best a Virgins blush to hid.  Exeunt Enter juno. juno. 
Not in the heavens? where than? In vain it were  
To search the seas; the blue veined Nor●ae,  
And green haired Dorid with all their brats,  
Styled by the names of water goddesses,  
(Though Prostitutes to Neptune) 'amongst them all  
Yield not a face to please his curious eye.  
Where than? The earth? I that, if any place,  
Yields choice of tempting Beauties: Argos bread  
A golden Danaë, Thebes afforded an  
Alcmene and a wanton Semele;  
Pelagia, a Calisto; Sparta nursed  
A swanlike Leda, (Strumpets) of all which  
I sought a sure, but found a vain revenge.  
Why may not than Thessalian Tempe yield  
Like fascination, since their impudence  
Is more and more encouraged by my wrongs:  
Here than I make inquiry. The day's clear;  
Whence come these foggy mists that choke the air,  
In so serene and bright an hemisphere?  
Aut ego fall●r, aut ego ledar.  
If from the earth, this sudden overcast  
Would smell of thick and suffocating damps:  
If from the air, or any sulphurous fire,  
It would be found by their callidity.  
If from the Rivers, or these moorish fens,  
Humidity would tell us whence they were.  
Not, these are forced, and by some godlike power,  
Created for a more peculiaruse:  
And now my jealousy most truly prompts me.  
'tis some illusion, made to blind mine eyes  
From a new injury; which if I find,  
On this one Strumpet I will study more,  
Than all that have my vengeance scaped before.  Exit. Enter jupiter, and Io transformed into a Cow. jup. 
The clamorous queen's descended from the Spheres,  
To find the cause of this illusive Fog:  
But Io I have so transhaped thee now,  
That she by not means can discover thee;  
And in that confidence I'll front her boldly.  jun. 
Jove hear? my jealousies are than not vain,  
Howe're I'll give him gentle entertain,  
Concealing what's within.  jup. 
My lovely juno?  jun. 
My Brother and my Husband jupiter?  jup. 
What make you here on earth?  jun. 
What other reason,  
But that I missed my sovereign Lord in heaven;  
And than I yoked my Peacocks, to their bills  
Tied silken bridles, and in my light chariot  
Made of fine gold, and decked with Ostrich plumes,  
Descended as you see. But what affair  
Might juno be so bold to ask her Lord)  
Detains you now in Tempe?  jup. 
Though it fits not  
Your Sex to ask a thing that ill beseems,  
Or pry into the counsels of the gods;  
Yet thus much I'll resolve you? I came down  
To censure here some causes among men,  
And set things crooked upright.  jun. 
Now I spy  
That which hath drawn him headlong from the sky,  
And I will make the Adulterer himself  
author of my just vengeance.  jup. 
Thou-babes once gone,  Spoken aside. 
●e were again transhaped, and we both one.  
●weet juno will you once more mount your Chariot,  
●nd keep your state above My designs ended,  
● will not long be from you.  jun. 
My craft now  
Shall match his cunning; if there be in me  
A godhead, I have cast her destiny.  
Dear loving Lord, since 'twas my kindness drawn me  
To see unto your safety (though I know  
The Deities in every place secure)  
Give me some gift on earth, that I in heaven  
May applaud your royal bounty.  jup. 
Be it bread  
Beneath the Moon, 'tis my Saturnia's.  jun. 
I have not seen so sweet and lovely a Beast  
White without spot or slain; Is she of the herd  
Belonging to these Meadows?  jup. 
She is, not doubt.  
Why doth my juno ask?  Jun. 
To make her mine.  jup. 
A gift too small for Juno to entreat,  
Or jove to grant; Demand some greater boon.  jun. 
This Cow or nothing.  jup. 
she's not for thy use;  
What would my Love do with her?  jun. 
Only this,  
(Being above the rest most beautiful)  
To sacrifice her to your Deity.  (jupiter starts.) jup. 
Not for the triple world: What was it, Sweet,  
That you of me demanded?  juno. 
Now to know  (Aside) 
What put you in this fear? Nay I have begged,  
And must not be denied. And have I found you?  jup. 
In what a straight an I? her to betray,  
And give her up into her enemy's hand,  
In man would prove a savage cruelty,  
Much more in us: and to deny a gift  
Appearing of so small a consequence,  
Would but augment her too much jealousy,  
And open that which is as yet concealed.  juno. 
What hope have I to enjoy greater things,  
That an denied a trifle?  jup. 
Say I will not,  (Aside) 
And give not reason; it may than appear,  
This Heifer to be not such as she seems.  
Well, she is yours; but how will you dispose her?  jun. 
So carefully, because she is your gift,  
My servant Argus with a hundred eyes  
Shall guard her from all dangers.  jup. 
'tis enough,  
In that, to us you shall express your love.  
But prove he to her churlish or unkind,  (Aside. 
there's one, at once his hundred eyes shall blind.  
So, she is now your charge.  Exit. Jun. 
And being mine,  
I'll teach base Earth to injure what's divine.  
Where is my servant Argus?  Enter Argus with a hundred eyes. Argus. 
who's that calls?  
The sacred goddess juno? What new service  
Will you command your vassal?  Jun. 
Take't in brief;  
Beholdest thou This? This? This not matter what,  
Not worth a name; only a thing I loathe;  
Out on thee: But I'll spare my railing words,  
To express my hate in action.  Arg. 
what's the cause  
The poor beast trembles that?  Jun. 
A Beast indeed:  
Like such she shall be used; behold her, Argus;  
Are these lips fitting for a god to kiss?  
These hoofs apt palms to gripe? these tears fit pillows?  
On which a Deity should breast himself?  
These, eyes to tempt? or this an hide to touch?  
These horns? (o me) in mine own heraldry  
She mocks me without blushing.  Argus. 
In all this  
How will you use my service?  juno. 
As a Spy:  
An hundred eyes thou hast, of all which number  
I will allow thee two to sleep by turns;  
The rest to watch this Strumpet; and of all,  
But two to wink, the rest to gaze at full:  
Behind thee thou hast eyes, both sides, before;  
Which way soe'er thou turnst she's in thy view.  
"A thousand he had need, all piercing bright,  
" To watch a Lover from his choice delight.  Arg. 
And is this all?  juno. 
Something I had forgot:  
Thou-babes art an Herdsman, Argus, and thou knowest  
To tame unruly cattles; she is such:  
In some unworthy halter bind her neck,  
For such a Beauty the first Ca●kanet.  
Her browsing be the Brakes and bitter couch,  
For dainties feed her with the sourest herbs;  
Led her through briers & brambles, which may scratch  
Her itching skin even till her soft sides bleed,  
Raise up the mud in clear springs when she drinks,  
Keep her from shadow, in the parching Sun,  
Till she be stung with horse fly's, and the breeze:  
Let her not rest but where the ground's still bore;  
Feather her bed with thistles and sharp thorns;  
And for her footing choose the barren paths  
Strowed with lose pointed flints to gall her hoofs.  
Argus farewell, I leave her to thy trust,  
A sweet revenge for her insatiate lust.  Exit. Argus. 
Drawing this piece of Beasts flesh thus along,  
Methinks I look like Lybian Hercules  
Leading the Dog of hell: nay I shall fit her  
According to my charge, and I will keep thee  
(Calf with the white face) safe enough from bulling,  
The longest day that I have eye to see.  
What do you hung an arse? Ptrow, come along,  
I'll lead you to bore feeding, and find salads  
To take down your full flanks and these plump cheeks.  
Along, I'll watch thee well enough from shrinking  
Neck out of collar. Nay, on; thou shalt find,  
Though my face from thee, I have eyes behind.  Exit. Enter Inachus the father of Io, Peneus, Appidanus, Amphrisus, (all Rivers) Daphne, and the other Nymphs, etc. Inachus. 
Speak not to me of comfort, jo's lost!  
Had she miscarried on the earth, her body  
Would have given instance of her timeless fate:  
Or had she been by savage beasts devoured,  
Her garments stained with blood would tell her death.  
Had she in mine or these my neighbour floods  
Perished, they would have born her gently up,  
And cast her on some bank for burial.  Peneus. 
Dear Inachus do not torment yourself,  
Nothing so lost, but may be found at length:  
For having seen not token of her death,  
there's of her life some hope.  Amphr. 
Behold, Amphrisus  
With this your ancient neighbour Appidanus,  
Peneus and others, as we moan your loss,  
So in our pity come to comfort you.  Appid. 
OH, brackish not your waters with your tears,  
That yet run pure and fresh; but be of comfort.  Inach. 
In vain you speak of what you cannot give,  
As I in vain lament mine Io's loss.  Enter Argus leading in Io. Arg. 
How now, cursed Cow? What, start you at that name?  
I'll make your long horns shorter.  Jnac. 
Io, where?  
If under earth, I'll sand my springs in search  
As low as to the Centre, Io, where?  
If snatched up in the air, like dew exhaled,  
With eyes fixed upward I will still thus gaze,  
Till from the bosom of some gentle cloud,  
Thou-babes drop into mine arms. Fair Io, where?  Arg. 
I think the beast hath breezes in her tail,  
She cannot keep her still.  Inach. 
But stay, what's he  
That leads the fairest Heifer tethered fast,  
That ever drunk of my streams; for Io's sake  
I love all creatures that are beautiful.  Arg. 
How now you Harlotry?  Inach. 
Thou-babes churlish herdsman,  
I know thee, Argus, jealous Juno's Spy,  
Why canst thou be so fierce to one so fair?  Arg. 
what's that to thee, or any of you all.  Pen. 
Among all creatures Nature ever made,  
Some to have native beauty above the rest,  
Commanding soft affection, this is such.  Arg. 
With all mine eyes I spy not difference,  
But love all beasts as beasts.  Inach. 
The more beast thou.  Pen. 
But why should this, the fairest of all herds,  
Cast such a piteous moving eye on you,  
As wooing your acquaintance?  Inach. 
And 'tis true,  
Where ere I go, her sad eye follows me,  
So she too, did not Argus keep her backe:  
See, see, how gently she endures my touch,  
And makes an offer (had she power) to speak.  
Hear, take these flowers, and now she kissed mine hand,  
Whilst piteous tears drop down her tender cheeks.  
What should I say? poor beast I pity thee,  
And all the good I can do is to grieve,  
The hast such a churlish Keeper.  Pen. 
Inachus, I fear  
there's something greater in't.  Inach. 
What greater can be,  
Unless there live some understanding spirit  
In this irrational and savage shape:  
What wouldst thou have, that in this bestial figure  
Beg'st human pity? what intends she, think you,  
By pawing on the ground? Observe her, brethrens,  
It seems she hath written something in the dust,  
And see, two letters are imprinted fair,  
As if it were my Io's Character, And here I read Io.  Pen. 
Io: and see, in every step she hath trod,  
That word impressed.  Inach. 
This she? whom I so long in vain have sought,  
Through forests, groves, and mountains, fields & floods?  
This she, whom I in finding shall most loose?  
OH miserable wretched Inachus,  
Moore miserable Io, thus transformed:  
I term thee lovely, till I known thee such;  
But when thy former beauty I record,  
Thou-babes ugly art, misshaped, and terrible.  
Can the gods suffer this?  Arg. 
Leave this your howling.  
Forbear, or in this cord I lead her forth,  
I'll strangle her. Dare not to follow me,  
there's danger in me both ways; she shall perish,  
And you must bleed. Come, Minion we will climb  
You craggy mountain top, a prospect fit  
For Argus only, who (not moving) can  
Behold at once from whence the four winds blow,  
And there with her I'll like a Beacon stand,  
To watch and to give warning. Will you drive?  
I say pursue me not, for if you do,  
I'll make her sure, and you repent it too.  
Why ptrow there.  (Exeunt Argus and Io. Amph. 
With what a piteous action, wailing tongue,  
She gave a loving, but a loathe farewell.  Apid. 
But that the high Powers are not limitable,  
Who would believe this wonder possible.  Pen. 
We must not question what the gods can do,  
Yet in the extremity of all extremes,  
And worst of bad's, despair not, Inachus.  Inach. 
How easy 'tis for those that taste not grief,  
Bid others be of comfort.  Amph. 
Reverend Sir,—  Inach. 
There is not reverence due: not to the gods,  
If this be seen and suffered: OH my Io.  
With acclamations I will fill the Meads:  
In stead of prayers, I'll execrate and curse,  
And to the burden of mine untuned shrieks  
The rocks and caves shall echo to thy name.  Pen. 
But Inachus.—  Inach. 
But when your Channels swell,  
You can have dams and sluices to discharge  
Superfluous waters, jest your torrents rage;  
And will you bar the conduits of mine eyes  
To ease the flux of my surcharged heart?  
My care was, Io, to provide a man  
To be thy husband; but I now must find  
One of the bellowing herded to call me son:  
To have some pretty infant draw thy breast,  
But now must some pied urchin suck thy teats.  
But that I an immortal, and the doors  
And gate to death against me are debarred,  
I'd weep myself to nothing, and this Being  
Scatter among my floods, that mixed with them,  
They might (in less than drops) among their waves,  
Convey me to the all-devouring seas,  
To mix my brine with his, and be so lost;  
And lost, forgotten: But I an still the same,  
And Io, I'll still call upon thy name.  I xeunt. Enter jupiter and Mercury. jupit. 
How an I moved with Inachus exclaims?  
Why are the ears of gods kept open still,  
But first to hear, than pity? hast thou not, Mercury,  
Seen Io's tears? Perceived her scalding sighs,  
And even thus far herded her suspires and groans,  
Tortured beneath that Neatherd churlish groom,  
Moore savage than the beasts he feeds?  Merc. 
I have.  jup. 
How often hath she, thinking to heave her hands  
For divine pity; when she spied her hoofs  
Cast them to the earth, with them her head with shame,  
And bellowing when she would complain her grief,  
Started at her own sound?  
How often, when grazing on her father's banks,  
(These fruitful banks on which she used to sport)  
Offering to drink, when in his Crystal streams,  
In which so often she with pride hath looked,  
On her white brow, read cheek, and golden curls:  
Now when she spies those lips a god hath kissed,  
Stretched to so vast a wideness, penthoused o'er  
With enlarged nostrils; looking on those eyes,  
(In which 'twas once my sole delight to look)  
To see them broad and glaring; her clear brow  
Late decked with shining jewels, pressed with horns.  
How often hath she (more frighted than ashamed)  
Thought, from herself, in vain, to hid herself?  Merc. 
This can you see? not study how to help?  jup. 
I do, and will, by thine aid, Mercury;  
Hie therefore to the top of Pindus' mount,  
(There Argus keeps his watch) in some disguise;  
Thy Caduceus and thy wings laid by,  
Find with the slave some conference, till by cunning  
Thou-babes charmest his waking eyes, and being fast,  
Cut of his head, and with one blow extinguish  
So many lights at once.  Merc. 
Great jove I will:  
But thus conditioned, you will interpose  
Your awful power betwixt me and Juno's hate.  jupit. 
Presume the art safe in us.  Merc. 
Than Argus dyes;  
One fatal stroke shall shut an hundred eyes.  Exit Enter Argus leading Io in an halter. Argus. 
How dost thou like thine usage, madam Cow?  
Your lodging and your diet? How dost think  
This hempen chain becomes thee? Will you see  
Your sweet face in the river once again?  
Or how doth your fair beastship feel yourself?  
Wouldst thou not have some Bulchin from the herd  
To physic thee of this venereal itch?  
If not, I'll see what Nettles muddy streams,  
Couchgrass and weeds, thorns, briers, & flints can d●  
These failing, here's a goad to prick your sides.  
If all these medicines will not tame your lust,  
I'll muster new inventions. Nay, I know  
You look for pity, but it life's not here.  
In this high watchtower stand I sentinel,  
To spy who comes and goes. I an made thy guardian,  
I'll guard thee both from danger and from rest;  
'Twas in thy hearing, Juno's late behest.  Enter Mercury like a young formal Shepherd. Merc. 
This shape may prove suspectless, and the fittest  
To cloud a godhead in; my plumed hat  
And feathered sandals, by the which I an known,  
I have left at foot of this descending hill:  
My snaky Rod I have to this sheephook turned.  
Accommodated thus, to Argus now,  
Aristor's son: behoves him keep good watch,  
Whom Mercury (joves' son) intends to catch.  
But Many-eyes have spied me.  Arg. 
How now shepherd,  
there's none who in that simple shape or name  
Needs treason fear. Should any come prepared  
For mischief, I have lights about me shine  
Sufficient to prevent it: but thou seem'st  
None of such rank. Come sit by me and talk.  Merc. 
The servant to the great Saturnia  
Doth me not common grace.  Arg. 
Thou-babes knowest me than?  Merc. 
What shepherd but not only knows your name,  
●ut fears your strength?  Arg. 
Nay sit (by me thou'rt safe)  
And tell some pretty tales to make me laugh:  
● have not long been merry.  Merc. 
First resolve me;  
●s that fair heifer of some neighbour herd,  
You drag thus in an halter?  Arg. 
she's my charge,  
A witty Brutus, a most ingenious beast,  
A very apprehensive Animal,  
That can do tricks: she hath been taught, I tell thee,  
To writ and read.  Merc. 
Argus, not possible.  Argus. 
'tis as I said before: but having her,  
Some pretty tale, I prithee.  Merc. 
But what if  
Some goddess should live in this shape disguised,  
To whom you are so churlish. I could tell you  
A story to that end.  Arg. 
Such toys I love.  Merc. 
Thus the Pierideses report: The Giants  
Assembled and made war against the gods,  
Heap Ossa upon Pelion, Caucasus  
Upon Parnassus, Pindus above them;  
Hill upon mountain, mountain upon hill,  
Till they had made a scale that reach to heaven.  
The conflict than begun: the monstrous Typhon  
Was Captain of the Giants: Of the gods  
Great jove, Archduke. The Generals met and fought.  
In brief (to cut of circumstance) the earth  
Prevailed ''gainst heaven. The gods are forced to fly:  
jove, chased by Typhon into Egypt, changed  
Himself into a Ram: Apollo, frighted,  
Turns to a Crow, Bacchus into a Goat,  
juno a Cow, Diana to a Cat;  
Venus into a Fish, and taken the sea;  
Mars to a Pigmy, jest he should be known:  
And Mercury, surnamed the crafty god,  
Into a Fox.  Arg. 
A Fox? But I would meet  
That craft which could beguile Argus bright eyes.  
Proceed, proceed, good shepherd.  Merc. 
Why may not than  
Some goddess be included in this shape?  Arg 
A goddess, sayest thou? think me equal than  
With one of these huge Giants, if not greater,  
That have the power and potency to lead  
A godhead in a string. But ha', what music  (Music 
Was that strooke up? 'Twas sweet and delicate,  
Nor have I herded the like.  Merc. 
My fellow shepherds  
Behind that rock (from whence an echo grows)  
For the more grace have chus'd that place as fittest,  
Pressed to bestow their cunning upon you,  
Whom they havé herded, much tired with watching long  Arg. 
And shall we have some merry Madrigal  
To pass away the time with?  Merc. 
What you please.  Arg. 
I fame would know how first these Pipes came up  
That make this dainty music?  Merc. 
First from Pan  
The god of Shepherds. In the memory  
Of the Nymph Syrinz, Music strike and tell,  
How in the Arcadian plains it once befallen.  

Mercury's Song.  
Syrinx, one of Diana's train,  
Hunting with her on the plain,  
Armed alike with shafts and bow;  
Each from other would you know?  
Which from which could not be told,  
Save one's was horn, the others gold.   Arg. 
Hey ho; very fine music I promise' you.  Merc. 
Now it gins to work.  
Pan he seas himself makes fine,  
In his cap he pricks a Pine:  
Now grows careless of his herd,  
Sits by brooks to prune his beard,  
Meets her, and hath mind to woo,  
Much he speaks, and more would do.  Arg. 
'tis pleasing, but it makes me melancholy,  
And drowsy too withal.  Merc. 
'Twill do anon.  (A side. 
Still he proffers, she denies;  
He pursues (for Syrinx fly's.)  
Passed her knees her coats up flew,  
He would feign see something new:  
By the leg and thigh he guest  
(It seems) the virtue of the rest.  Arg. 
Were it not for my charge I'd take a nap.  Merc. 
This adds wings unto his pace,  
The goal for which he is in chase.  
She adds feathers to her speed;  
Now it was not more than need.  
Almost caught, Alas she cries,  
Some chaste god my shape disguise.  Arg. 
The rest may sleep secure, so I can keep  
But two eyes waking.  Merc. 
here's a charm for them.  
Laedon hears, and girts her round,  
Spies a reed that makes sweet sound:  
Such is Syrinx. Wondering Pan  
Puts it to his mouth anon:  
Yet Syrinx thou art mine he said,  
And so of her his first pipe made.  
My charm hath taken effect; with these thine eyes  
Take thy last sleep, thou hast not one to see;  
My task is done, and Jo thou now free.  (Cuts of his head. Exit. Enter juno. juno. 
The dying groans of Argus called down,  
To know what of his lustre is become.  
What, all extinct? and is not memory  
Extant of their known brightness? hath one night  
(Whose nature should be to be proud of stars)  
Shut at one time an hundred? nay at once?  
Should every piece of time deprive so many,  
How shortly would these lights innumerable  
Be vanished into nothing? But dear Argus,  
That all may know thou hadst a loving mistress,  
Grieving thou shouldst thus perish for her sake;  
And that these eyes (now blind) in aftertimes  
May give a light to perpetuity,  
And memorise thy name, thy faith and fall,  
Thy hundred eyes (who waist for juno slain)  
I will transport into my Peacock's train;  
Whilst such a bird hath breeding, and can be,  
Her painted feathers shall remember thee.  Enter jupiter and Mercury. Jup. 
And whilst an heifer grazeth on the plain,  
Io, her hoof shall still imprint thy name.  
My juno are we friends? Let her long divorce,  
My fair entreats, with Inachus exclaims  
Invoke thy love and pity, by my life.  juno. 
You use me like a sister, not a wife,  
My bed is still so empty.  jup. 
Now by Styx,  
An oath not god was ever known to break,  
Sign her release, she shall hereafter be  
To jove as a mere stranger.  juno. 
Since by that you swear,  
what's past is lost, it cuts of future fear,  
Saving my quarrel, Mercury, to you.  Merc. 
Madam, I did your servant not great wrong,  
●ave teaching him to relish a new song.  juno 
Where jars are mediated, vain it were  
Call injuries in question. As with jupiter,  
With you we are atoned.  jup. 
Now Mercury,  
●ince juno is appeased, fetch Io hither,  
●● her own native beauty, whom we will  
Restore unto her father.  Merc. 
Sir I shall.  Enter Inachus with the other Rivers, etc. Inach. 
OH jupiter! o juno!  jup. 
Inachus,  
surcease exclaims, thy prayers have had access,  
●hy tears been pitied, and thy loss bemoaned;  
Argus is slain, and fair Saturnia pleased,  
●nd Io to her pristine shape restored.  Enter Mercury with Io. Inach. 
Thanks you immortal gods.  Merc. 
Not sooner was this mighty Queen appeased,  
●t the rough hair dropped from her tender skin,  
●er horns fallen of, her eyes appeared to shine  
● a less orb, her mouth and lips contracted  
●oth into compass, and their native sweetness,  
●●r shoulders are restored, fingers and hands;  
●●r parted hoof divided into five,  
●ow with two feet contented, for on them  
●e straightway stood erect, and of a Cow,  
●●ve whiteness, naught retaining, and even yet  
●e fears to speak, jest she in stead of words  
●ould bellow forth her mind.  〈◊〉. 
Yet will I dare  
●ss give my father greeting.  Inach. 
OH my child.  〈◊〉. 
I an still jealous of that face: what's he  
●hat makes but a mean sport of wedlock's breach,  
But thinks to violate an oath not sin,  
Though calling testates all the Stygian gods?  
Great King and Lord, Brother and Husband too,  
If I be worthy of those attributes  
Yourself have deigned, and all the gods approve,  
Grant me a second boon.  jup. 
For thy remissness  
In Io's late affliction, speak, 'tis granted.  juno. 
Than from these fields of Tempe banish her,  
As far as into Egypt.  Inach. 
From her father?  jup. 
Be you pleased,  
And juno shall, I hope, be satisfied.  
Io, you shall to Egypt be confined,  
Be that your punishment for Juno's hate:  
Which executed you shall taste our love.  
In Egypt held a goddess thou shalt be,  
Adored and worshipped in thy heifers shape;  
Oblations shall be daily offered thee,  
And Incense burned to thy divinity,  
And this for ever. juno, in vain you sorrow,  
joves' word is past, and cannot be revoked.  
And now with this one Maxim we conclude;  
Where lust is punished, though the blood be tainted,  
It (after such long Penance) may be sainted.  Exeunt 
FINIS.    

APOLLO and DAPHNE.  

The Argument.  

AFter many a loving greeting,  
Mars and Venus point a meeting;  
And that Vulcan might not have  
Lest note thereof, they choose a Cave  
Obscure and dark, to which they trust,  
Intending there to sat their lust.  
But when themselves most safe they think,  
The rising Sun pries through a chink,  
Seas all, and what he seas discovers  
To Vulcan, touching these two Lovers.   

The enraged Smith taking foul scorn  
To be affronted with the horn,  
Provides for them a subtle 〈◊〉,  
In hope to take them both therein.  
His plot prevailed, and now being fiery  
In just revenge, by strict inquiry,  
To find where these by custom met,  
He by his art contrives a Net,  
Moore fine than is the Spider's thread,  
And yet of wire; which he so spread  
About the place, all things compact  
So well, he taken them in the act:  
And than doth all the gods invite,  
Who came at once to view that sight.  
Some jeered, some pitied their disgrace,  
One wished himself in Mars his place.  
Tet for all this, the churlish Sir  
So kept them that they could not stir.  
Mars chafes and threats, and struggling keeps:  
But Venus blush's first, than weeps.  
And when though gods could laugh not more,  
Than Vulcan freed them, not before.   

Now Venus knowing all this done  
Was first discovered by the Sun;  
Against him open war proclaims,  
And at him her revenge she aims:  
Cupid she useth as her instrument.  
And that's of our Scoene the sole argument.    
Enter the river Peneus the father of Daphne, Daphne, Amphrisus and Apidanus two Rivers that were Suitors un● her; two Nymphs Attendants on Daphne. Peneus. 
WHy lovely Daphne, will you loose yo● Youth,  
And let your best hours pass yo● Well you know,  
beauty's a Flower, which not being cropped in time,  
Soon withers on the stalk, and than (alas)  
Will neither serve for use nor ornament.  
You own me sweet grandchilds, pretty babes,  
Even for your birth you do: it is a debt  
That I would see discharged: I to my parents  
Paid it in thee; it is a Bond stands firm,  
till cancelled in thy sweet posterity.  
See, I have brought thee Suitors, choice one's too,  
Two noble Rivers, both residing near,  
Amphrisus, and still-flowing Appidan,  
Young, and of means, both active and of strength  
To wrestle against barrenness, and give  
The hug the foil. Being dead, I live in thee:  
Live thou too in thy issue; so successively  
Our Line and memory shall never perish,  
But last as long as Time.  Amph. 
Your father (Daphne)  
Counsels with judgement, and this argument  
I could by many reasons amplify.  
As, That without succession (one age passed)  
Mankind should cease to be. OH what a punishment  
Deserve they from the gods, that would destroy  
●o glorious a creation, and to leave  
●o wonderful a fabric as the world is,  
To not admirers?  Appid. 
Save the Plants and Beasts;  
And what can they distinguish?  〈◊〉. 
Therefore, Daughter  
Make use of time: a season being past,  
Can never be recalled, not, not a month.  
A month? not day, not hour, not minute can:  
●herefore make use of opportunity  
Which throws itself upon thee: but being straightened,  
Will after prove a stranger; the lest instant  
●y long repentance cannot be redeemed.  Daphne. 
To you I bow in duty, as to a father;  
And these affront in noble courtesy,  
Not wronging him, to show my breeding base,  
scoffing your proffered love with womanish scorn.  
●is counsels, your persuasions, I commend,  
●nowing both fitting, were they seasonable.  
●hat Maids should love men I an not ignorant,  
●● that the breeding world should still increase;  
●hat Progeny should reach from age to age,  
●nd that the gods make't a necessity,  
●o have all their miraculous works admired:  
●●l this I know; but  ●●ph. 
I'll proceed: But what  
Can you produce against this?  Daph. 
Hear me out:  
But when I in my best considerate thoughts  
Ponder my youth, and what it is to love;  
That vows are ties not easy to be loosed,  
And that the smallest finger can pluck on  
What not the hand and arm can well put of:  
That Marriage is a Maze, which entered in,  
The line is snatched thence which should guide us out.  
E'er hazard than that unknown labyrinth,  
Much blame me not to pause.  Pen. 
What needst thou fear?  
Fond timorous Girl, did not thy mother this  
Long time before thee?  Appid. 
Nay, hereafter too  
May not your daughter do so?  Daph. 
I'll resolve you  
That, when I have a daughter of my years,  
And tutored by her mother.  Amph. 
Excellent Nymph,  
These are evasions mere unnecessary;  
We know you to be ripe, and ourselves grown,  
Betwixt us is equality in state,  
And parity in years: nor is our course  
Irregular or indirect, we come  
Admitted by your father, as a way  
Plain, and not interdicted: nor is our suit  
So far with cradle it may childish seem;  
Nor so old, to appear decrepit: we are two  
Rivals, yet friends; so you choose one of either,  
Even he that is despised rests satisfied,  
Nor is our love divided.  Daph. 
I commend you:  
There is of you less danger, and lest fear  
That you should die of love; when both of you  
Come with like premeditation to digest  
A rigorous answer.  Appid. 
Pray what should we do?  
Our service we have offered equally:  
The world is wide, and if we speed not here,  
We must provide us elsewhere.  Daph. 
Worthy friends.  
To be most plain, to me most pleasing is:  
Than take as plain an answer; I confess me  
Weak as I an) unworthy of your love.  
And yet not so low prized, but have been courted  
Both by as great and good. Nor can you blame me,  
If I in adding to your worths, shall spare  
From mine, in the lest kind to derogate.  
To you than, as my equals, I entreat;  
Or if you shall deny me, Daphne than  
Proclaims it as her william I must retire me  
For some few months, in them to meditate  
What marriage is, and truly study man,  
(A book in which I yet have truanted.)  
Now, if I in my more maturity,  
And after some cessation of your suits,  
Can ground this Maxim, Man is worthy us,  
And we of him; we'll breviate your long motions  
Within a few short terms.  Amph. 
You speak but reason:  
And so long we'll attend you.  Appid. 
Most fit, that such as bargain for their lives,  
●hould read us o'er and o'er, before they set  
Their hands to that Indenture. We are pleased.  Daph. 
And I that you are so. Nor can my father  
At this be discontented.  knach. 
Not I, Child;  
I would not hurry on my joys too fast,  
Having such hope of them. And yet, sweet Daphne,  
The more thou hasts their harvest, the ripe crop  
Shall be to them more welcome. For this time  
'tis best to leave her to her privacy:  
Moore leisure that she hath to meditate,  
Less time you have in which to be resolved,  
'Twill shorten expectation.  Amph. 
May these hours  
That add unto your years, still as you grow,  
Increase toward us your love.  Appid. 
Friend you pray well,  
And in that hope I take a loving leave,  
By kissing your fair hand.  Exit. Daph. 
You understand a courtesy as well,  
Once being done, as she that knows to do't.  
Farewell. Where be my maids?  1 Nymph. 
My Lady, at hand.  
Daph. Doth either of you know what this love is,  
That men so much affect it?  2 Nymph. 
Trust me, not I: I never looked so far into man  
and most sure I an, man never yet entered so fare in●●  
me, that I should know how to define it. But can y●●  
tell the reason why this little god is still portrayed like  
child?  Daph. 
I think, because that dotage which he breeds  
Only belongs to children. 1 Nymph. But why naked  Daph. 
Either to affright the Modest; or to such  
As vow to him, to express their impudence.  2 Nymph. 
But why with bow and arrows?  Daph. 
That denotes  
Inconstancy, because the shafts of love  
Are ever shot at random.  1 Nymph. 
Wherhfore hood winked?  Daph. 
Howe're his shafts are aimed, it shows his kind  
Because they strike the eyes of Reason blind.  2 Nymp. 
Than an I with Love quite out of love, beca●●  
at these years I should be loathe to have one to lead ●●  Daph. 
Yet do I love the beauty of the spring,  
To listen to the birds, with various lays  
To welcome in his coming. I affect  
The pride and warmth of Summer, to behold  
Abundant Autumn pour his harvest forth  
In plenteous sheaves; to see the presses bleed  
A flowing vintage. But I most admire  
The glory of the Sun who comforts these:  
For without him, what were the earth? what heaven?  
If all were darkness, who should than discern  
The lustre of the one or of the other,  
The fresh fertility proudly adorned  
With choice and change of all discoloured flowers?  
Moore than a cased up jewel, what were Beauty,  
Without the Sun to give a brightness to 't?  
what's ornament, without the Sun to judge it?  
What to be fair or foul, without the Sun,  
To censure and distinguish which is best?  
The sun's the deity which I adore.  
Here than upon this verdure cast yourselves,  
And rest a while; not long 'tis ever he will  
In all his glory mount the Eastern hill.  They lay themselves down, than enter Venus and Cupid. Venus. 
Here on the top of the mount Ericine  
Ambush thyself, (a place sacred to me)  
Where thou mayst boldly front the god of Light,  
Who hath by this already chased hence night.  
I'll leave thee now: strike, but strike home, my son,  
I'll in these shades absent me whilst 'tis done.  Cupid. 
He mocks my bow, but Phoebus soon shall find  
Cupid hath power to strike the Sun-god blind.  Enter Apollo with his glittering beams. Apollo. 
The stars are frighted from the firmament,  
And at the sight of our illustrious beams  
Darkness unto the black fled.  
Now to our daily progress through the Signs.  
But stay, what's he that with our honours, armed,  
(The Bow and quiver, proper sole to us)  
Braves us upon high ?  
I know him now, 'tis Paphian Venus' son,  
To whom some fools have vowed a deity.  
I'll know the reason why the bastard brat  
Dares thus assume my trophies. 'Morrow Cupid.  Cupid. 
As much to Phoebus.  Phoeb. 
Weak brat resolve me,  
By whose enticement thou hast been so bold  
To take to thee the emblem of my power?  
Is't not sufficient, thou with brainsick toys  
Canst fill the heads of mad men and of fools,  
Who'ascribe to thee a godhead, merely usurped?  
But thou must wear my due Impresa insculpt,  
And (about thy shoulders) those known ornaments,  
Apollinis insignia? (Apollo's Ensigns)  Cupid. 
And why thy?  Apoll. 
Because I an styled the god of Archery;  
And where I aim I hit, my prey or enemy,  
Kill near or far. The monstrous serpent  
(Whose bulk being slain, an hundred acres spread)  
Had from this bow his wounds, and I my honours:  
And shall a child boast eminence with me?  Cup. 
Phoebus, thy bow hath monsters strooke to ground,  
But mine hath power the gods themselves to wound,  
Of which thou art not least. Mother he's sped, He shoot  
I have pierced him home with my shafts golden head.  Ven. 
Thou-babes art mine own sweet boy, thy darts never fails  
And now Apollo languish and look pale,  
Moore wan than did thy sister Moon once prove,  
When for she was sick of love,  
Whilst I laugh and rejoice. Now make all sure,  
And strike fair Daphne whilst she sleeps secure,  
But with contempt and hate.  Cup. 
My arrow fly's,  
And as it hits, sick of disdain she lies.  
Now mother let's away.  Ven. 
Phoebus, I divine,  
Thou'It say his shafts can wound as deep as thy.  Exit. Apoll. 
What alteration's this I feel? a heat  
Beyond mine own fire, kindled at mine eye.  Daphne starts up. Daph. 
All sleep is still in darkness, yet our souls  
See when our eyes are shut. My breast's in uproar;  
And yet a dream tells me, the morning grey  
Says the sun's up, I shame to look on day.  Apoll. 
What beauty's this on earth, transpiercing more,  
Than can the beams from my celestial Orb?  Daph. 
The Sun is up; Awake: What, shame you not  
That he should find you sleeping?  Apol. 
Sweet Nymph stay.  Daph. 
The shades best please me, I in them will play;  
The sun's too hot and sultry.  Apol. 
I an he  
That measures out the year; and eat you me  
Fairest of thy sex, behold the Sun's bright eye,  
That all things seas, by whom you all things spy.  
Will you in everlasting darkness devil?  
Light is heaven's emblem, and becomes it well:  
Where I appear, I comfort and make glad;  
Be comforted in me, why are you sad?  
Would you in blindness live? these rays of mine  
Give that reflect by which your Beauties shine,  
For what are artificial lights? when I  
Appear in fullness they soon faint and die.  
They only put on counterfeits: my rays  
False colours find, and give the true the praise.  
If yours be such, than prove them by my light,  
The world will censure they are pure and right.  Daph. 
His piercing beams I never shall endure,  
They sick me of a fatal Calenture.  Apol. 
What are you better to be lovely born,  
If not beheld? what's state, if not observed?  
Or wherefore before Cottages do we  
Prefer the stately Palace, and the sumptuous roof?  
What virtue were in jewels without me?  
Else should they be with pebbles equal prized.  
Wherhfore did Nature make you with bright eyes,  
Which profit not in night without my beams?  
Why should the Rose be read? the Lily white?  
The Violet purple? and the Holly green?  
All rhese my creatures. But when I decline,  
And night usurps upon the Universe,  
Their tincture's not discerned: but white and read  
Which in your peerless cheeks exceed all flowers,  
What lustre bear they? When my beams are go,  
The fair and foul in darkness seem all one.  Daph. 
That darkness doth best please me: let's away,  
My beauty will be sun burned if I stay,  
he'll blast me like an Ethiope.  Exit running. Apol. 
Dost thou fly me?  
Love bids me follow, and I must pursue:  
Not vault, not cave or cavern so obscure,  
Through which I will not pierce, to find thee out,  
The Antipodes for ever want my rays:  
To gaze on her, I'll this Meridian keep,  
And till attain the saint that I adore,  
Here ever shine, where night shall be not more.  Exit. Enter Venus and Cupid. Venus. 
Laugh Cupid, laugh, for I an half revenged,  
And shall ever long be fully, when this Blab  
Shall in his course, or too much lag or speed  
Post sometimes, and again run retrograde.  
Where by his too long presence the earth is scorched,  
Or by his absence the other world shall frieze:  
And all that lies beneath the Moon complain:  
And that the gods at man's request shall call  
Disorder into question. What can than  
Both heaven and earth conclude when this is done,  
But this thou didst to avenge me of the Sun.  Cup. 
Will not Mars thank me for't?  Uen. 
And kiss thee too.  
OH still by his example punish those  
That shall our sweet adulterate sports disclose.  Exeunt. Enter Daphne flying, and Apollo pursuing her. Apollo. 
Why fly's my Daphne, knowing 'tis in vain:  
Love makes me swifter than thy fear can thee.  Daph. 
OH me, I an so tortured with the Sun,  
I hate my very shadow.  Apol. 
I pursue not  
As Eagles, Doves do; or the Lions, Hearts;  
Or Wolves, the Lamb. Love is my cause of haste:  
Run not so fast, jest thou shouldst trip perhaps,  
And do thyself some damage: the ground's rough,  
Shouldst thou but slide, and I the Author on't,  
How much would it offend me? To prevent which,  
Stay but thy haste, and I will slack my speed.  Daph. 
I an almost breathless.  Apoll. 
See, I an not Satire,  
Shepherd, or such as live by grazing herds,  
Delphos is mine, Pharos, and Tenedos:  
Thou-babes knowest not who thou fliest, I an Apollo,  
The only god that speaks by Oracle:  
jove is my father, and the Muses nine  
Are all my daughters: I an Patron held  
Of Numbers, Raptures, and sweet Poesy.  
My shafts are ever certain where they aim,  
(Yet one more certain, which hath pierced me deep)  
Physic is mine, I first devised that Art,  
And could it help me, I were than assured:  
But Love is by not Simples to be cured.  Daph. 
OH now I an quite spent; help, goddess juno,  
(Queen of chaste marriage) bright Diana, help  
One of thy true vowed Virgins: change my shape,  
That I this hot adulterous Sun may scape.  Sudden Music, and she is turned into a Laurel tree. 
Thanks, o you Powers divine: the Spheres assent  
To my chaste prayer: your heavenly dooms are just.  
Here grow I fixed against all powers of lust.  Apoll. 
Strange prodigy! Less hope is in her stay,  
Than in her speed: her body's round encompassed  
With a rough rind, in which her warm heart beats.  
Her hair is all grown upward into boughs,  
Here milk white fingers and her arms advanced  
To great and lesser branches: her fair feet  
But late so swift, fast rooted in the earth:  
And I, whom Love late blinded, now may see  
My Daphne turned into a Laurel tree.  
Her life still struggles in the churlish bark,  
And from her lips I feel her breath still flow.  
One blessed kiss at parting, but in vain,  
The very tree shrinks from me in disdain.  
And yet in lasting memory of thee  
And of my love, thou shalt be ever mine:  
In all ovations triumphs and rich shows  
The Laurel shall engird the Conqueror's brows.  
All eminence shall think it graced in thee.  
Poets, the Muse's darlings, shall from thee  
Receive their honour, and the best esteemed  
Be crowned Laureate, and not excellence  
But have it's noble estimate from hence.  
Emperor's shall prize thy leaves above pure gold:  
For thou shalt ever wait on victory;  
And as my youthful and still unshorn hairs  
(Unchanging) of this golden hue are seen,  
So shall the boughs and branches still be green,  
And arm against joves' lightning. And all these  
Shall be for our sake by the gods approved,  
In memory that Daphne we once loved.  Exit. Enter Aurora attended by the Hours. 1 Hour. 
How comes it, fair Aurora, we the Hours  
Are thus disturbed?  2 Hour. 
One halts, whilst the other runs;  
Sometimes made longer by a many minutes,  
Sometimes not full three quarters?  Aurora. 
An not I  
As much distempered, being forced to rise  
So often before my time? which makes my husband  
Old Tithon jealous (for he bedrid lies)  
I have light on some new Love.  1 Hour. 
all's out of order.  Enter the four Seasons, Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter. Spring. 
How comes this strange confusion rise of late?  
My spring to grow so forward by the Sun?  
Summer complains that I usurp on her.  Sum. 
As much as I on thee, Autumn on me,  
And says, that in my ripening I include  
His harvest, and so rob him of his due.  Aut. 
Have I not cause? when thou not only claimest  
The honour of my crop: But frozen Winter,  
He keeps a coil too, swearing, I intrude  
Into his bounded limits.  Wint. 
This I an sure  
I an curtailed of my right; my snow is melted,  
And hath not time to cloth the mountain tops:  
September is like May, january as june:  
And all my bright and precious Icicles  
Melting to nothing: what's the reason trow we?  2 Hour. 
'tis the Sun's slackness, or his too much speed,  
That breeds all this distraction.  1 Hour. 
The Sun, say you?  
Break he, or not directly keep his day,  
Seasons and Hours all out of order stray.  Enter Day. Som. 
Behold her whom you speak of, Day, whence come you?  Day. 
I parted now with Night, who had been here,  
But that both must not in one place appear.  Auror. 
And what says she?  Day. 
Like you, rails on the Sun,  
And says he doth her wrong: nor blame her, when  
Being full twelve hours, he scarce affords her ten.  Autumn. 
Day, you are the Sun's mistress, hath he not  
Revealed the cause to you?  Day. 
Not, his known brightness  
Hath unto me been only dark in that.  
Nor an I of his counsel.  Winter. 
Fine world grown,  
When every drunken Sexton hath the skill  
To make his giddy clock go truer far  
Than can the best Sun dial.  Enter Apollo. Apollo. 
What are you  
That murmur thus against our Deity?  
Are you not all our creatures? though we give you  
Full sails on earth, do not we steer the helm?  
Disposing you both where and how we please;  
And dare you thus rebel?  Omnes. 
The god of Light  
Is our great Lord and Sovereign.  Apoll. 
This submission  
Hath somewhat calmed us: had you still stood out,  
Disorder, we had to Confusion turned,  
And so you all been ruined. But henceforth  
Morning shall keep her hour, Hours measure day,  
In a true scope the Day proportion Weeks,  
Weeks, Months; Months, seasons; to sum up the year.  
And we our course in that, perfecting time:  
That nothing in this concordance appear  
Either preposterous or unseasonable.  
For which our grace, wherever you shall find  
This new sprung Laurel, you Aurora I charge,  
With your moist tears bathe her green tender boughs:  
From whence I will exhale them with my beams.  
Hours, do you wait upon her gentle growth.  
Day comfort her: Ver cheer her with thy spring.  
Thou-babes Summer give her warmth: and Autumn, thou  
Dare not to spoil her of her plenteous leaves:  
Nor Winter thou with thy robustuous gusts,  
To blait her lasting verdure. These observed,  
Still flourish under us. And that this unity  
May last among you many fortunate years,  
End in a Hymn tuned to the chiming Spheres.  

The Song.  

HOwsoe're the Minutes go,  
Run the hours or swift or slow:  
Seem the Months or short or long,  
Pass the seasons right or wrong:  
All we sing that Phoebus follow,  
Semel in anno ridet Apollo.   

Early fall the Spring or not,  
Prove the Summer cold or hot:  
Autumn be it fair or foul,  
Let the Winter smile or scowl:  
Still we sing, that Phoebus follow,  
Semel in anno ridet Apollo.    
FINIS.    


The Argument of AMPHRISA the forsaken Shepherdess.  

THe innocence, truth, and simplicity  
Of country Damsels: What felicity  
They arrive to in their low estate;  
What freedoms they participate,  
What joy, what solace, what content  
To their innocuous life is lent.   

The humble shed and cottage held  
Moore safe than gorgeous houses, swelled  
With pomp and wealth. It likewise proves  
Moore simple truth in their chaste loves,  
Than greater Ladies, tympany 'de  
With much more honour, state, and pride.  
here's of the Willow wreath dispute,  
How, and why worn. What best doth suit  
Forsaken Virgins, read and find  
Their characters who prove unkind.    
Enter two Shepherdesses, Pelopoea and Alope. Pel. 
GOod morrow.  Alop. 
So to you, fair Shepherdess.  jel. 
What news in our Arcadia?  Alop. 
I know none:  
For well you wots it is not news with us,  
That men should prove inconstant.  Pel. 
Think you so?  Alop. 
thought's free.  Pel. 
I pray can you define me Thought?  Alop. 
Let me bethink myself, I think I can:  
For I have thought of many things ever now.  Pel. 
But can you guess what I think?  Alop. 
I (perhaps)  
May jump with your conceit, come near't at lest.  
Of colours there are none so opposite  
As white and black: and of the Elements  
Than fire and water none more contrary:  
Nor is there aught so antipathy 'de in men,  
As what they think and speak.  Pelop. 
Now let me help you:  
Man's thoughts like Courtiers cloaks are often shifted,  
And change as often as they are truly sifted.  Alop. 
This than hath been the cause of woman's sorrow;  
Men think to day ill, to do worse to morrow:  
Witness Amphrisa's servant.  Pel. 
Pity 'tis,  
●o fair a body, and so sweet a soul  
●hould be so foully dealt with. Her false Lover  
●nkindely hath forsook her.  Alop. 
that's the reason  
●hee's grown into so deep a melancholy.  
● wonder any woman dare trust man,  
●nce, like as the Chameleons change themselves  
●nto all perfect colours saving white;  
● they can to all humours frame their speech,  
●e only to prove honest.  Pel. 
You say well.  
●t as not worms breed where they feel not warmth,  
●o Vultures watch where they can find not prey;  
●o Pirate roves but where he hope's for spoil:  
● none of these false servants wait, but where  
●hey find a yielding Mistress.  Alop. 
Indeed light minds are caught with little things,  
●nd Fancy smells to Fennell.  Pel. 
But Amphrisa  
Is held to be the wisest shepherdess  
That life's in our Arcadia.  Alop. 
But I have herded,  
Late wit and cheated wisdom to be counted  
Next neighbours unto folly. Shepherd's now,  
The holier that they seem in outward show,  
The hollower are their hearts. By subtle sophistry  
(As I have herded) the best Philosophy  
May be perverted. And man's flatteries  
Are just like Circe's richeses, which can turn  
Vain glorious fools to Asses, credulous Fools  
To Woodcocks, pretty wanton Fools to Apes,  
And proud Fools into Peacocks.  Pel 
But among these,  
Amphrisa had not place.  Enter Amphrisa seeming discontented. Alop. 
See, here she comes  
That for herself can answer.  Pelop. 
But 'tis sin  
In us, not to be answered, thus to suffer her  
To pale the cheerful blood in her fare cheeks,  
Through wilful passion. Which I'll not endure.  Alop. 
Than rouse her from these dumps.  Pel. 
you're sad, Amphrisa:  
Sweet may we know the cause?  
Amphrisa. You have prevented  
A strange conceit which somewhat troubled me;  
But by your interruption almost lost.  Pel. 
Nay recollect yourself, pray let us hear't.  Amph. 
I was thinking, why Parrasius, drawing Youth,  
Made Love to tickle one side with a feather,  
To move a smile; and with the other hand  
To sting it with a Scorpion.  Pel. 
you're stung than.  
But I was thinking on Praxiteles,  
Who drawn his mistress thus: Look on her one way,  
She laughed upon him: Straight before, she wept:  
But change the side, and cast your eye adverse,  
And than she appeared sleeping. And so you,  
Fit but your fancies unto such a face,  
you'll never complain of servant.  Amph. 
Than it seems,  
My story's told aforehand.  Alop. 
Yes, and rumoured  
Through all Arcadia.  Amph. 
And none pity me?  Pel. 
there's none so marble breasted, but doth melt  
To hear of your disaster.  Amph. 
Is there one,  
To whom the cause of my disease is known,  
That can prescribe me cure for't?  Pelop. 
Without feeling  
Your pulse, I know the nature of your grief:  
You have an heat, on which a coldness waits,  
A pain that is endured with pleasantness,  
And makes those sweets you eat have bitter taste:  
●● puts eyes in your thoughts, ears in your heart:  
●Twas by desire first bread, by delight nursed,  
And hath of late been weaned by jealousy.  Amp. 
But how can these disgusts be remedied,  
Which Reason never yet could comprehend?  Pel. 
By patience.  Amp. 
that's a physic all prescribe,  
But few or none doth follow. Pray what is't?  Pel. 
It is the best receipt that can be taken  
Both against love and fortune (Crossed in both.)  Alop. 
To wish the best, to think upon the worst,  
And all contingents brook with patience.  
●s a most sovereign medicine.  Pelop. 
And moreover;  
What cannot be redressed with peevishness,  
Ought to be born with patience.  Alop. 
Patience?  
●he is so like to Fortitude herself,  
That by her sweet aspect she appears to be  
Her sister or her daughter.  Pel. 
The only remedy for injuries, is  
By patience to forget them. And more noble  
It is to yield yourself in triumph to't  
Than to be drawn by force.  Amp. 
You have prevailed,  
For I an now your Patient; and entreat you,  
Like skilled Physicians, study for my health.  Alop 
From their Doctors  
The sick expect more art than eloquence:  
And therefore what defect you found in words,  
Expect in our Prescriptions.  Enter their Queen and two Nymphs. Queen 
I never was with pastime better pleased;  
So clear a morning, and such temperate air;  
The Sun so bright, yet sparing of his heat,  
Made all the toil we taken (to chase the Stag)  
To seem not labour, but an exercise.  
The wily beast to eat our swift pursuit,  
Forsook the Plains, to take the mountain tops.  
Yet maugre the opposure of the Rocks  
And cliffs depending to molest our speed  
Our well-tried Nymphs, like wild Kids climbed those hills  
And thrilled their arrowy javelins after him:  
Nor left the chase, till all those golden heads  
Were new stained in his blood.  1. Nymph. 
It proved, great Queen  
Your active Nymphs were better breathed than he,  
For whom we could not overtake, we tired:  
That done, we touched our Beagles, and so made  
Both hills and valleys echo to his death.  2. Nymph. 
He stood so long, and made us stray so far,  
Among the Swains and lovely Shepherdesses,  
That use to graze their Flocks upon these downs;  
The Sun must needs pass the Meridian,  
Ever we can reach the Lodge.  Qu. 
The Arcadian Girls  
Are of not common beauty; as their habits  
Much grace the fields; so many of those features  
Mine eye by chance hath glanced on in the Chase,  
In mine opinion would become the Court.  
They say, these virgins are acute in wit,  
And fluent in conceit, to speak or sing;  
As having often drunk from the Muse's spring.  1. Nym. 
See, Royal Queen, where three (not of the meanest  
Or least to be respected) are retired.  Qu. 
Be not too loud, These bows will shelter us;  
Let's listen how they fashion their discourse,  
And how far short the Folds and Cottages  
Come of the Court or City.  Amp. 
Nay pray prescribe. 'tis said of all Physicians  
What good comes by their Physic, the Sun seas:  
But in their art, if they have bad success,  
That the earth covers. Howsoe're I suffer,  
You blameless are.  Alop. 
All those that are unskilful  
Will flatter grief till it grow desperate.  
But though you know the use of Physic sweet,  
To taste it is unsavoury.  Amp. 
Howsoever I an prepared.  Pel. 
Imagine first, You never had a servant.  Alop. 
Not so: for who can know the sweet of ease,  
That never was in pain?  Pel. 
Or say she had,  
Think that he never played false.  Alop. 
A mere relapse,  
Before the first be cured, to think him faithful,  
Were but to enter her disease anew,  
To make her grief more violent.  Amp. 
But one speak:  
The medicine that's proposed of contraries,  
Can never breed peace of mind.  (Qu. 
All, solid sense.)  
For I perceive, those that are sound themselves,  
Have still more will to help, than skill to cure.  Pel. 
Well, Mistress Doctor I'll give way to you.  Alop. 
Think than you had a servant, and he false;  
For whose sake never more trust man  
And though some say jove winks at Dovers Oaths,  
'tis (after) with broad eyes to punish them.  
Words should not credit men, but men their words:  
For he that breaks his promise lies to heaven;  
And whom Heaven hate's, who but would fear to love  
Most cursed 'tis to flatter and forswear;  
And dearth of oaths is blessed barrenness.  
you're sick at heart: the only help for that  
Is, Let your heart abhor his treachery,  
And him, for it. you're pained too in the head,  She present a wrea● of will●● 
For that here's balm made or a willow wreath.  
Let this charmed c●● eel but impale your brows,  
'tis present help for both.  Amp. 
Make this apparent.  Alop. 
Thus: All the Arcadian Swains & Nymphs that ●●  
Your brows engird with this forsaken wreath  
Will take note of his falsehood, and your faith;  
Your innocence, and his inconstancy:  
And those that wear tears in their eyes for you,  
Of love and pity, to be thus abused,  
Will steep their tongues in wormwood and in gall,  
To brand him for his open perjury;  
Their pity, with your patience joined,  
(With this to boot) will prove an absolute cure.  Amph. 
Some ease I find already, crown me than.  She is crowned with Willow. Alop. 
May, wheresoever your head you softly pillow,  
Be never more troubled, whilst thus wreathed in willow  Amph. 
Nor shall it, Alope, for from this hour,  
Heart's grief nor heads pain shall of me have power.  
I now have chased hence sorrow.  Queen. 
This conceit  
Hath taken me highly; and great pity 'tis,  
That such choice wits should find not other ears  
Than those that Swains, and flocks, and fowls have. Wit  
So spent, is only treasured in the air.  
The earth hath lest part on't. Virgins, Good day.  
Nay, do not fall too low.  Pel. 
You are our Queen.  Alop. 
And Lady of our fortunes.  Qu. 
By that title  
I do command you than to spare your knees.  
Nay rise.  Amp. 
'tis only by your Grace and goodness  
We breathe and live.  Qu. 
It is enough to me,  
That you present us such acknowledgement.  
And as for you, fair Virgin, I could wish  
Your Willow were a Laurel. Nay, so 'tis:  
Because all such may be styled Conquerors,  
That can subdue the it passions.  Alop. 
Our fear is,  
That if our rude discourse have touched your ear,  
The coarseness might offend you.  Qu. 
Pleased us highly:  
Which that you may perceive in me's unfeignd,  
I charge you, as I an your Sovereigness,  
All coyness and evasion set apart,  
To be most free in language.  Pel. 
Imposition  
That comes from you is unto us a Law,  
Which aught to be kept sacred.  Qu. 
I'll as freely  
Command than, as you willing are t'obey,  
For were I not a Queen, I'd wish to be  
As one of you, a witty Shepherdess.  
Pray sing me something of your country life,  
To make me more in love with't.  Amp. 
'tis our fear; A life that is so mean, so ill expressed  
As needs it must be, (if imposed on us)  
May make you rather loathe it.  Qu. 
I had thought  
Courts only had been filled with compliment,  
Of which I see, the cottage is not clear.  Amp. 
Give not our simple truth, and fear to offend,  
A character we know not (gracious Queen)  
But howsoever, if you make us faulty,  
You have the power to pardon.  Qu. 
And presume  
that's granted, ever the offence be.  Amp. 
Than thus, Madam.  She sings. 

The Song.  
We that have known not greater state  
Than this we live in, praise our fate:  
For Courtly silks in cares are spent,  
When Countries russet breeds content.  
The power of Sceptres we admire;  
But sheep-books for our use desire.  
Simple and low is our condition;  
For here with us is not ambition.  
We with the Sun our flocks unfold,  
Whose rising makes their fleeces gold.  
"Our music from the birds we borrow;  
" They bidding us, we them, good morrow.   These last two lines twice Qu. 
Nay, fair one's, what you have begun in song,  
Continued in discourse: We would hear more  
Of your pleased life.  Amp. 
Your highness may command.  
Our habits are but course and plain,  
Yet they defend from wound and rain.  
As warm too, in an equal eye  
As those be, stained in Scarlet die.  
Those that have plenty wear (we see)  
But one at once; and so do we.  Alop. 
The Shepherd with his homespun Lass  
As many merry hours doth pass,  
As Courtiers with their costly Girls,  
Though richly decked in gold and pearls:  
And though but plain, to purpose woe,  
Nay ofttimes with less danger too.  Pel. 
Those that delight in dainties store,  
One stomach feed at once, not more.  
And when with homely fare we feast,  
With us it doth as well digest:  
And many times we better speed;  
For our wild first-fruits not surfeits breed,  Amp. 
If we sometimes the Willow wear,  
By subtle Swains that dare forswear.  
We wonder whence it comes, and fear,  
The have been at Court, and learned it there.  
If any Lady than shall please,  
Whose cheek looks pale through my disease,  
By any faithless servant, or false friend,  
(Being cured myselfe) this I can give or lend.  She offers the willow. Qu. 
Believe't, a sweet conclusion: for ofttimes  
Such things fall out. But we have further herded  
(Besides what now our ears are witness to)  
That as your words keep time, your voices tune;  
So hath the curious motion of your feet  
Been taught to know true measure. You can dance?  Amp. 
Yes royal Princess, as we sing and speak,  
After such rural fashion.  Qu. 
If not worse,  
It may become a Theatre of eyes,  
Yet wrist not blushes from you. Will you than,  
Since that we parallel in number thus,  
Help us to fill a measure?  Pelop. 
So we thought  
There might not jarring discords grow from us,  
To spoil your better music.  Qu. 
Not such fear.  
Come than, such music as the place will yield,  
we'll instantly make use of.  Music sounds, and they dance the measure. Qu. 
Complete in all: You have made us now Eyewitness  
Of what, Relation sparingly hath spoken.  
To encourage which, and that so great a merit  
Pass not without some meed, receive these favours,  
And wear them for our sake.  Jewels given. 
Time bids us part.  
Greater than these we have for you in store,  
And mean hereafter to employ you more.  
FINIS.    

An Emblematical Dialogue, interpreted from the Excellent and most learned D. jac. Catzius; which showeth how Virgins in their chaste loves aught to bear themselves.  

1. The Argument.  
TWo modest Virgins, of unequal time,  
th'one past, the other growing to her prime,  
(Anna and Phillis) interchange some chat  
Of Love, of Marriage, and I know not what.   

2. The Argument.  
Arm hearing Phillis her rude Love relate,  
(Whose tender breast was free from all deceit)  
Fears jest her youth to lust she might engage,  
And bids her to be counselled by her age.  
A Virgin's office, and how Maids be caught,  
(Says she) three times vine Winters have me taught:  
Take me thy Guide, and not way thou canst ●●re,  
Who before Venus' sweets, chaste love prefer.  
Which in alternate language whilst they pled,  
In view and presence of the Marriage bed,  
Phillis, whom youth and fresh love doth possess,  
Her amorous thoughts gins thus to express.  
We, when in health, for sick folks counsel find,  
But sick ourselves; we quickly change our mind.   

Without Marriage there is not courage.  Phi. 
Whilst near my Father's house I observed but late  
Two Turtles bill, and either court it's mate,  
I called to mind the palm which I might spy  
Drooping, because the male plant was not nigh,  
Whom with erected looks when she beheld,  
She buds, she bloom, with fruit her branches swelled,  
At which I said (OH Venus) were I dead,  
But that I think it a sweet thing to wed!  
Which as I spoke, (and more would have expressed)  
I felt soft love to steal into my breast.  
Trees have their Ardour, and the birds their flame,  
The Mountain bo●es, and wild beasts have the same  
Nor doth the scaly fish want their desire,  
Why than should only Virgins eat this fire?  
Concerning which the Poet Lucretius is thus read.  
Each generation that on earth abides,  
Whether of beasts, or men, (whom reason guide's,  
Horses or Cattles, what's beneath the Sun,  
Into this fiery ardour madly run.)   


Most things unprov'd cannot content us,  
Which being tried they often repent us.   An. 
Into the Bride's yoke will't thou madly fly,  
Thinking there Roses, and sweet. Apples lie?  
If such a thing as pleasure be? search round;  
In man's rude arms it never can be found.  
What is this snare to which young Virgin's haste,  
But like the Osier we'll in rivers placed?  
The fish yet free, to enter wound about,  
Whilst they within are labouring to get out.  
Boys in their first heat, want the wit to tarry,  
And Girls (not ripe) are mad untill they marry;  
When scarce the one hath warmed the others side,  
But they wish beds and houses to divide.  
Diog Laert tells us that it was a saying of Socrates, that young bachelor's desirous of marriage were like to fish who play about the we'll, and gladly would get in, when on the contrary they that are within strive how they should get out.   

The family of the unmarried is lame.  Phi. 
Though you say, Wedlock doth such troubles breed,  
Love bids, and Hymen prompts me to proceed.  
The tedious silence of a forlorne bed  
To me is hateful, therefore must I wed:  
Look how the Ducks mourn when they miss the male,  
Not one but droops her wings, and flags her tail,  
But he once come, the pond with clamour ring's,  
And you than see another face of things.  
The good man absent: than the fire doth frieze,  
The house is sad, the wife her mirth doth lose.  
(They all are troubled,) when the maid doth ask  
To go to rest, she's put to some new task.  
A beard's the house's prop, (besides is none)  
There can be not delight to sleep alone.  
Impose the burden of virginity on none (says Ignatius the ancient Theologist) being a yoke which even the Vrgin Vestal? (of old) in Rome were not able to bear, to whom only five years were enjoined to abstain from marriage, and to keep the holy fire from going out.   

Bind in thy flames.  An 
Though thou hast such a will to change thy state,  
Yet gently hear me what I shall relate,  
The flame (too raging) that by heat is blown,  
To fit the marriage bed was never known.  
Observe the Cooper when he joins his ton,  
That the contracted planks may evenly run,  
(The fury of the violent heat to tame)  
In a round Iron cradle keeps his flame,  
By his example thy hot fires suppress,  
Jest this or that way fond it digress.  
With amorous tales let not thy ears be tainted.  
Before thy mother be therewith acquainted;  
she'll tell thy Father; so take of thy care,  
They well provide to keep thee from the snare.  
Cicero tells us that it is fit, men should be brought within the compass of reason and learning  
And Cipri. that the tutors or guardians, namely, the Father, Grandfather, or Brother, were wont of old to contract young Virgins, which ancient custom is upon great consideration observed in these days, And among other causes, especially in regard of the weakness, and bashfulness of the sex: and we read in Euripides that when Orestes solicited Hermione for marriage, Her answer was, My espousals remain in my Father's power, and not mine.   

By the finger, not the tongue.  Phi 
Shall I than clamour for an husband? not,  
My virgin shame forbids me to do so,  
Three lustres, and three years are past, I pray,  
Is't not enough? what more can virgins say?  
Look how that watch doth the swift hours divide,  
And with its hand doth to the figures guide,  
It nothing speaks, yet points (early and late  
To what it means, such is our virgin's state,  
Although the mind be silent, and sit mute,  
Her mature age (though tongueless) moves her suit.  
It shows her to be entered in her prime,  
And tells the parents that she loseth time.  
Her round breasts speak, fresh cheeks & brows so say  
Thus the whole girl's dissolyed to silent prayer.  
That Father is much to be blamed, who when h●● Daughter is in her full maturity provideth her not ●● Husband. Well therefore said Ignatius, A ripe Virgin to prevent the wrinkles of age, may speak to her Father in private, to dispose of her in marriage.  
And we read Claudian thus:  
The virgins ripe age breeds the father's cares,  
Who, for her sake neglects his Lords affairs.   

The Colony is to be removed elsewhere.  Phi. 
When the earth helps the Vine her sprigs to bear,  
'tis fit they should transplanted be elsewhere.  
The dresser calls and says these same will bud,  
And prospero bravely if the soil be good.  
I have two swelling breasts that twins can feed,  
A lap besides to dandle those I breed:  
And my virginity (say what you can)  
Proclaims me now that I an ripe for man  
I look on Wives, and wish that I were such,  
But grieve my Father will not see so much:  
Yet long he shall not bar me from that bliss  
Which law allows, or I an taught amiss.  
That daughter who hath passed the age of five and twenty, if she marry without her father's consent, by the law of some Nations cannot be deprived of her dowry, because the father aught to consider in time convenient to provide his daughter of an husband, and himself of a Son-in-law: but when our Phillis professeth herself not to be much above fifteen, it is ridiculous in the maid longing for marriage, to wrist the law, and apply it unto her own purpose.   

After the wound, in vain is warning.  An. 
what's shame to speak, is it not sin to act,  
To blush at words, and not to blame the fact.  
Not girl that's wise to lovers will incline,  
The choice should be thy parents, and not thy.  
Courtship enchants, when lovers vow they feign,  
And entered once, there's not way back again.  
Vain is it for the wounded Whale to fly,  
Who careless erst before the stroke did lie.  
Love's arrows to remove, or ease their smart,  
As vain it is, if once they touch the heart.  
Than of thy parent's counsel first be sure  
Before thy choice: once wounded there's not cure.  
If regard be to be had of dignity, comeliness or honesty; than in the contracting of marriages, it is more decent and seemly, if the parent's troth plight their daughters to their husbands, and tie them together with their own tongues, than if they themselves immodestly in their own language subject themselves to one another's power. Cypr.  
They that in gathering Venus' flowers are free,  
Say daily, these to morrow such will be.  
Mean time soft fires into our bosoms creep,  
And the worst trees still root themselves most deep.  Ovid.  

The more haste, the worse speed.  An. 
In hast's not help: if follow love, 'twill fly,  
Lovers hate such as come to every cry.  
Of any sudden conquest they are sick,  
Nor what they covet, would have come too quick.  
When the Lord sends to bid the Cook make haste,  
He strait gives charge the spit turn not too fast,  
Less speed is made, the meat's the sooner ready.  
He hinders and not hasts that is too speedy.  
She that in Cupid's Kitchen would command  
Must have dull motion, and a tardy hand:  
'tis speed that spoils all, spurs are in delay,  
Not lover stoops unto a yielding prey.  
All delay is odious, yet it brings on wisdom.  Sen. 
You that would marry, though you both make speed,  
Delayed awhile, small stay great gain may breed.  
Delays oftentimes bring to pass that he who should have died, hath killed him who might have lived. Clem. Alexand.   

For what we can, we care not  An. 
We see in birds for whom the pitfall's set,  
Such as would feign be taken, escape the net.  
Others that would fly thence, the strings combine,  
Their captive legs entangling in their twine.  
She that first craves deserves a scornful smile,  
As both in maid or woman hold most vile.  
she's only certain to be caught that fly's,  
She teacheth to be sued to that denies.  
Coy Dames the breasts of lovers most besot,  
The sweetest kisses are by struggling got.  
That game best pleaseth which is surest in chase,  
Not that being swollen, and lies dead in the place.  
What I most wish may for a time be spared,  
Nor pleaseth me the conquest that's prepared. Petron.  
To this purpose is that of Sencea the Philosopher, it names me to enter conflict with a man prepared to be overcome. The swordplayer holds it a great indignity ●● be matched with his inferior, as knowing it can be ●o glory to him to subdue that man, who is vanquished without danger.   

Press occasion.  ●●i. 
What means this Ann? thinkest thou me mad, that I  
What my heart thinks should with my tongue deny?  
Past loves, in vain she studieth to recall,  
Who to her friend hath shown not grace at all,  
Whilst golden Venus with a cheerful face  
Smiles on our acts, let's loose nor time nor place.  
The wary Ospray whilst the fish play  
Above the wave, stoops down to cease her prey.  
That Bird for our example is we know,  
Who slips not time, parts conqueror from his foe.  
Catch at occasions, look ever he pass by thee,  
Let him escape, and Venus too will fly thee.  
If in the very moment of occasion the opportunity ●ere of by thy delay or negligence thou hast o'reslipt, in ●ne it is to complain upon it being past. Liu.   

The honour of virginity perishes in the lasting  
While th'envious Rose, wrapped in new leaves we found,  
She hides her beauty in a thorny rind.  
Forbear your hand (boys) for their pricks are found  
Nor can you crop the bud without a wound.  
But stay the time, the flower itself will spread,  
But if not gathered than, the leaves will shed.  
Sweet are young maids to lovers in their prime,  
And pleasant love rejoiceth in that time.  
She that is long a maid, scarce such appears,  
Virginity still wastes with her years.  
Let Cupid have our vigour, and youth's fire,  
Maids young deny, what old, they most desire.  
Standing streams gather mud, but running rive● are fresh and sweet.  
Such as resist love, must either have not brain, or ● eyes. Protogenes.  
Ambition and love are impatient of delay: li● gring grows loathsome where necessity craves has● Quintilian.   

Not prize if not provoked.  An. 
A deeper Sea I now perforce must sail,  
And lay my sheats open to a freer gale.  
Such as the subtle trains of love would fly,  
Let them upon this emblem cast their eye.  
Thou-babes seest that net which hangs in the glade,  
A train for Woodcocks by the Fowler made;  
He doth not touch the strings, but remote stands,  
Whilst her own weight compels her into bands.  
If taken or not, the traveller scarce knows,  
Because the net enforced about her flows.  
Virgins beware by this, if taken at all,  
Catch not thyself, but by thy suitor fall.  
Draw not upon thyself that subtle frame,  
So shalt thou make the Fowler his own game.  
Many virgins at their contractings rather com● than speak, especially if their parents be than presence, jest they should appear to desire a husband's which in maids is not seemly, and Baldus observes, it is engrafted in the nature of women to be silent, especially at the time when there is a treaty of their marriage; moreover it is a great sign of virginal modesty, to blush when marriage is but named: according with that of the Poet.  
Quale coloratum conjuge Coelum  
Subrubet, aut sponso visa puella novo.  
Like to the coloured Heaven, by 'the morning died,  
Or blushing maid by her new husband spied.   

It lights, but leads not.  An. 
If to more proper rules a mind thou hast,  
Take these: and more, I'll not allow thee chaste.  
On the vast Seas the Beacon doth display  
It's light: directing ships their safest way.  
The flame doth show the harbour to be near,  
Yet doth not help the Mariner to steer:  
'tis they must guide the Sails, and ply the Oar,  
Save light from it, they can expect not more.  
If thy face, speak thee not of Cynthia's train,  
And thou the Vestals modest dress disdain:  
Thou-babes only on the shore, to light them, stand,  
But let the Sailor labour how to landlord.  
It much behoveth a virgin to be very circumspect in cases of matrimony, that for the honour of her sex, she neither seem to offer herself, or to do any thing against modesty: jest it hap unto her, as (we read) it did to Icasin a noble and learned virgin, who when she become so gracious in the eyes of Theophilus Emperor of Constantinople, that he seemed to offer her a golden apple as a pledge of nuptial faith and contract: She was taxed for her too ready answer and acception thereof, and for grief of mind confined herself into a Monastery. Cypri.   

Not play without some prey.  Phi. 
If it be harmful than for maids to woe,  
What we are barred may not our Fathers do?  
Trust me, to tardy lover's sport it lends,  
And love hath often grown from bore commends.  
The Latian King would needs Aeneas draw,  
To take his daughter, whom (before he see)  
The Trojan loved: but fathers that are wise  
With better art these contracts may disguise.  
Moore private slights there are: by agents, best  
Where many are, still one may help the rest.  
By Birds, the Fowler to his net, birds drawn,  
Yet in the act, seemed as he nothing known.  
Parents of old made proffer of their Daughters to Husbands before they sought after them, neither did they imagine in that to have done any thing uncomely or undecent. We read in the first of Kings, chapter eighteenth, Saul offered his Daughter unto David Homer reports that Alcinous did the like to Ulysses. Virgil that Latinus did the same to Aeneas: Terence, that Chreme● did it to Pamphilus. Herodotus, that it was done by Megacles to Pisistratus, and Zonoras' and others, that Darius did as much to Alexander, etc.   

Try ere you trust.  An. 
Wary's thy art, but not from danger sure,  
For dost thou think that craft can be secure?  
Wretch thou'rt deceived. We live in corrupt times,  
Nor can craft long conceal her subtle crimes.  
Add that the proffered bride few humours fits,  
As fearing there be baits laid in their bits.  
Whilst aged Priam to Achilles sues  
To take his child, he doth the match refuse.  
Let Father's pause until their minds they know,  
and whether they be well disposed or no.  
The Fox his ear unto the Ice doth lay  
Ever venture on; if hear them crack, he'll stay.  
Whilst Darius to Alexander, Priamus to Achilles ● Alcinous to Ulysses, without due circumspection made offer of their daughters, they were altogether frustrate in their hopes and expectations, therefore the wiser are of opinion: that nothing aught to be proffered, which hath not before been proved.   

Too much light dims the sight.  An. 
Concerning Habit, which in love's not lest,  
Receive these few rules fit to be impressed.  
Cost (within compass) doth the young man taste,  
Neatness best pleaseth love, where there's not waste.  
When once thy virgin's habit is laid by,  
And thou'rt a wife, thy gifts will than grow high.  
If thou (before) in princely gems shalt shine,  
he'll say; my gifts are sleight, she needs not mine.  
Rich vesture I have seen Lovers to'affright,  
Youth starts at jewels when they shine too bright,  
Much oil chokes lamps. The Lysard when he lies  
Too open to the hot Sun, faints and dyes.  
A cleanliness is to be used by women, neither despised, nor too exquisite, only let it avoid clownish and sordid negligence. Cicero.  
She that hath too much care over her attire, showeth she hath little regard of her virtue. Cato Cens.  
Husbandmen praise best those ears of corn which bow down, and make the stalk crooked, more than such as grow strait and up right, as being assured to found more grain in the one than in the other. Humbleness in heart & habit, is both pleasing to God, and acceptable with man   

Cheeks often painted, are soon tainted.  An. 
A grave man supping with my Father said,  
(What in my breast, I ever since have laid)  
Than Peach trees (when they flower) nothing more fair,  
And none more sordid when their bows are bore.  
That wife grows often loathsome by neglect,  
Who (yet a Maid) herself too nicely decked.  
How comes this too much liberty of dress?  
When a whole day is spent in't (and not less)  
Too curious trimming maids hath often misled,  
Nor did it ever suit the marriage bed.  
It often falls out, such as most leisure found,  
To paint their cheeks, their husbands do not mind:  
But from all ages, this a maxim was,  
None love's her distaff, who admires her glass.  
Let not thy habit be too rich nor too base, make it neither for admiration, nor contempt; their ornament is called womanly neatness, by which is meant modest handsomeness, free from curiosity or cost: and Vives in the same place proceeds thus: in thy garments it is enjoined thee that they be not over nice or precious, but without spot or stain. For I cannot imagine how much the purity of the mind rejoiceth at the matronlike neatness of the body.   

Fire from Frost.  An. 
But say the reine be given up to thy hands,  
And the sad suitor at thy mercy stands;  
Though burn within, persuade him thou dost frieze  
For still to smile, will much advantage lose.  
The Sun shines clearest breaking from a cloud,  
Sweet is the Northwind when it breathes not loud.  
Heat flies, love bates, and suitors weary grow,  
When the fond Girl doth too much favour show.  
Water doth make the lime-chalk scorch with heat,  
And the Smith's flame by water grows more great.  
Learn to say nay, love heightens by denial,  
And hath through wounds and difficult things best trial  
Better the Bee on flowers doth feed,  
Having first tasted on a weed.  
The stars of greater lustre show,  
After the Northwind leaves to blow.  
When Lucifer hath chased hence night,  
The blushing morning shows more bright. Both.  
It may be called a disease rather than mirth, ever to smile on them who always laugh at thee, or to frame the countenance unto every man's humour. Seneca.   


The light to keep,  
snuff not too deep.   Ph. 
Too strict thy rules are, golden Venus cries,  
To not such laws she tender virgins ties.  
If like the Sabines we contract the brow,  
Give them bad words, use them we care not how;  
We shall our loves make weary of their lives,  
As fare more fit to be made Soldiers wives.  
Cupid inur'd to lie soft and secure  
In Venus' shades, not hardness can endure.  
Say, brittle be his shafts, that their points turn,  
Flashie his fire, and cannot ever burn.  
To clear the taper, if you snuff too deep,  
Out goes the light, i'th' dark you may go sleep.  
When one churneth milk he brings forth butter: and he that wringeth his nose causeth blood to come out: so he that forceth wrath brings forth strife. Pro. 30.  
Thy secure pastime should be mixed with fear,  
Or else thy favours he'll not hold so dear.   

Passions too high, will speaking lie.  An. 
If chide; 'tis nothing, there's not danger, know:  
(I speak strange things) love doth by brawling grow:  
He first retires and must go back some step,  
Who hath a mind to make the stronger leap.  
The further Cupid draws his elbow back,  
He deeper strikes, and makes the greater wrack.  
War begets peace, jar to atonement tends,  
Thus Mars and Venus quarreled, and were friends.  
Add this: his wrath up to the height to wound,  
To search what gall thou in his breast canst found.  
Anger will lay his heart wide open, and bore,  
In rage, (for men to hid their thoughts) 'tis rare.  
Those Doves, who late, each other sought to wound,  
Now join their bills with murmur and sweet sound.  Ovid.  

Lovers stray, where there's not way.  ●●. 
Court, kiss, drink deep, strew roses when you meet,  
And let your banquets be of junkets sweet.  
In little, little space, unhappy thou,  
With a sad soul beneath his feet shalt bow.  
The beanstalk by a slender wand doth climb,  
Shooting his head up to the air in time.  
The top it aims at, having reached unto't,  
He bows his wanton head down to the root.  
Lovers rash heat unto the utmost aims,  
And though thou grant it much, yet more it claims.  
Give all; 'tis not enough, unless thou grant  
(Of what he hath) He to his friend may vaunt.  
This also is to be admonished them, that virgins smile not on all such as laugh upon them: which indeed is not seen in any but such as are rather immodest on mad, she aught not also to suffer herself to be tugged or over want only touched, but rather to shun the place, or forbear the company. If she cannot otherwise avoid it. Vives.   

They care nor fear, For what they swear.  An. 
Let neither promise, nor complaint persuade,  
Nor his laments thy tender breast invade.  
Seest thou that Reed, which when the North wind blows  
Bows down it's head, and like a suppliant shows;  
But the gust past, it grows strait as a line,  
And of the former storm remains not sign.  
The Bee makes honey till his sting be go,  
But that once lost, he soon becomes a Drone.  
The suitor sues, and seeks, and gives good words,  
Whilst she stands of, and not kind grace affords:  
But with contempt and scoffing he'll retire,  
When he hath once obtained his wished desire.  
Rash oaths by raging lovers uttered, bind  
Like words inscribed on water, or in wound.  
Hot love grows soon cold; and faith plighted with feigned vows as it is tied without conscience, so for the most part it is broken without care.   


Touch it with salt,  
it turns to nothing.   An. 
That thy prime age, thou without stain mayst wear,  
See thou to not obscene talk lend thy ear,  
When wanton youth ''gainst modesty makes war  
To make it captive, such their weapons are.  
Therefore, if any with a blushless face,  
And talk uncomely, press into the place;  
Grace nothing, but a brow censorious take  
And answer him, as if some Matron spoke.  
Observe the snail, on which if salt you cast,  
To water first it turns, to naught at last.  
Let but thy words into loud thunder break,  
And instantly, he'll have not word to speak.  
Posthumia the vestal, because she was free in laughter, and more liberal in discourse with men, than become her order, was called in question about incest: but being acquitted of that crime by Spurius Minutius, than High Priest or Flamen, he admonished her that thenceforward she should conform her language to her life. Plutarch.  
As the Northwind driveth away the rain, so doth an angry countenance, the slandering tongue. Prou. 25. 23.   

there's much danger, to trust a stranger.  Phi. 
To marry, in my thoughts much better were,  
It strengthens bashful shame, preventing fear.  An. 
But light and hasty will, doth fraud provoke,  
Who eats with too much speed may hap to choke.  
When Palamedes birds the rustics take,  
They snares of paper, daubed with birdlime, make.  
The meat the fowl loves, in the midst is placed,  
Which whilst the hungry bird desire's to taste,  
The slimy paper blinding both her eyes,  
She now a pray before the fowler lies.  
Most justly they the City's scorn are made,  
Who will be caught, yet see the train that's laid.  
The way to marriage is doubtful and double, the one leads to misery, the other to happiness: therefore before thou givest thyself into that way, it behoveth thee to be of that solicitous deliberation which is reported of Hercules travelling where two ways met: for if once in marriage, it hath happened unto thee ill, there is not art by which thou canst correct it; for thou art fallen into the number of those, of whom the proverb speaks, He deserveth not pity, that chooseth to do twice amiss.  
It is more honest after thou hast once determined, to love, rather than begin to determine when thou hast loved   

Sometimes fair words, wound worse than swords.  An. 
If any one unworthy seek thy bed,  
From thy chaste house let him be banished:  
Admit him not, so much as to be jeered,  
Some scoffed at first, have after proved endeared.  
If he have any wit at all, he'll show it,  
And prove in sundry strains to let thee know it,  
Embracing first, strive a forced kiss to win,  
Such kisses have to virgins fatal been.  
So by degrees into thy breast love steals  
And wanders round, but his soft steps conceals;  
Whilst Fowlers play upon their pipes, and sing,  
th'unwary fowl into their nets they bring.  
Wonder not that thou art deceived by him that speaks thee fair and flatters thee, but rather wonder how thou hast escaped from not being deceived by him Demosthenes.  
Sic avidis fallax indulget piscibus Hamus,  
Callida sic stultas decipit esca feras.  
So the deceitful hook the fish betrays,  
So beasts, by crafty baits, a thousand ways.   

Spare for not cost, where nothing's lost  Phi. 
To embrace, or kiss, why should a maid deny?  
Since neither shame, nor fame we loose thereby.  
Who can believe a soft kiss can eclipse  
Our honour, coming from a young man's lips.  
The Bee the violet kissed, and the Sun's flower,  
And laden with sweet juice, hies to her bower,  
Yet neither one nor other is since dried,  
But both still flourish in their wont pride.  
What with compulsive strength the young man taken,  
The maid wipes of, and keeps her former look.  
If it be lawful light from light to take,  
Why should we maids to kiss, such scruple make?  
Why swelst thou Satirist, kisses are vain,  
And thy own spit will wash them of again. Ex Gr, Ep.  True honour is so pure, It will not touch endure. An. 
Kisses, soft gripes, and blandishing persuades,  
From amorous suitors; harm not those young maids.  
Not Poet (howsoever his vain please)  
Shall sway me; but there's poison in all these.  
Touch not the purple grape: for than 'tis ripe,  
And that pure colour cannot brook the gripe.  
'tis fresh, now the Vines grace, and hath affinity  
Unto the Genius of untouched virginity;  
Eat them, they have sweet poison mixed among:  
The lip but touched, doth wear the impress long:  
For wash thy face a thousand times, the sin  
Thou-babes canst not wipe thence, for that lies within.  
Nothing is more tender than the fame and reputation of women, or more subject to injury: in so much that it may be properly said to hung by the small thread of a Spider. Vives.  
Not Father can have too great a care of preserving his daughter's chastity. Plaut, in Epidic.   

Once shamed, ever blamed.  ●●. 
Not sin alone, but what may such appear,  
If thou be'st wise (maid) study to forbear,  
'tis not enough, thy acts are free from blame,  
Since thou (meantime) mayst suffer in thy fame.  
If the Nuts-shels, thou shalt asunder draw,  
Do what thou canst, there will remain the flaw.  
Thy fame once touched, be thy mind never so pure,  
Yet scandal shall thy chastity endure.  
Though thou the ruin studiest to repair,  
Thou-babes canst not make it good with all thy care.  
How-ever join the shells, the breach is seen,  
Though hid thy wounds, yet will they still be green  
Her modesty once blamed,  
She is for ever shamed.  
Remember still thy fame to cherish,  
That lost, thyself doth likewise perish.  Ovid. 
It behoveth the chaste one, not only to abstain from crime, but also to avoid the sordid aspersion o● blame. Dion.   

His slave she life's, to whom she gives.  An. 
Be't than the virgin's care and labour still,  
That of her carriage, not tongue can speak ill.  
Hear me with patience and I'll teach thee than,  
What dangerous rocks to avoid, both where & when  
Part to thy Love with nothing that thou haste,  
Fare be free hands to virgins that are chaste.  
If give but trifles, he'll for greater look:  
Part hath been offered, when the whole was taken.  
Besides, thy gifts to every one he'll show,  
Speaking them thy, to all whom he doth know.  
Fat spilt in frying, makes the flame so great,  
That it both wastes itself, and spoils the meat.  
Let the woman give nothing to the man: for who soever she be that presents a gift, prostrateth herself Vives.  
And there may be reason rendered, that whosoever gives may be thought to insinuate himself into the man's favour to whom he gives; alluding to that a Martial.  
Thou-babes sentest me presents, o but why?  
Because with thee I should comply.   


All things by Gold,  
are bought and sold.   An. 
Give not said I? Now, do not take, I say,  
Gripple we are, gifts will our sex betray:  
They weaken us: she that hath long out-held  
(A gift received) to yield hath been compelled.  
The base coin they to the Seas commend,  
But the choice Gold, to the white bosom sand.  
Where steel can force not entrance, Gold is free,  
Let Danae's brazen Tower witness for me.  
Than Steel give place, to Gold thy strength resign,  
(Woe me) that choler, hath a power divine.  
By Iron some few; Their number, who by Gold  
Have been made prostrate: never can be told.  
There is nothing so sacred which is not to be violated and profaned, nothing so defenced, which is not to be scaled, and entered by money. Cicero.  
Gods, Chastity, and Faith have failed,  
Gold only, over them prevailed.  
Receive not gifts, (a hook lies in the meat)  
None but have birdlime, and their poison's great.  M. Verinus.  


Trust none in the giving vain;  
Lovers give not but to gain.   ●●. 
Be't than thy care, (if care thou hast to stand  
Upright) from Lover's gifts to keep thy hand.  
Seest thou Love painted naked in all drafts  
With quiver only, and some few small shafts?  
He wears not pocket, but hate's all their tribe,  
Who in Love's free converse expect a bribe.  
Can Diamond, gem, or golden chain beguile  
Thy modesty so fare; to become vile?  
The gaping Oyster, entertaining stones,  
byth' Crab injected, is despoiled at once.  
Once guilty of a gift [if put to trial)  
Thou-babes hast not power to make the lest denial.  
●o receive a gift, is to cell thy liberty. Seneca.   


Often by too much play,  
Virgins themselves betray.   An 
Now trifles I enjoin, and I confess  
They be such, yet worthy to be read, (not less)  
To tumble on the grass, urge them to try  
Mistress: These fit for chaste one's I deny.  
A bee's hide in the flower, a maid doth come,  
To crop it between her finger and her thum.  
Not stays, not rest, her tender flesh it stings,  
It smarts, it swells, she cries, her hands she wrings,  
And says, why Bee, thus seekest thou me to kill,  
I came to sport, and purposed thee not ill.  
When maids with youngmen try, they do not we  
But often catch stings, which make their flesh to swell.  
Sporting hath been the occasion of many evils, we may read. Horace.  
Sport hath begotten both sudden strife and rage,  
Anger, contention, war, commixed with strage.  
In pastime & sport, woman's breasts are easily discovere according with that of the Poet.  
We are careless than of what we do or say,  
Our very minds lie open in our play.   

Most hold such bad, as love to gad.  An. 
In all things Ovid's book I cannot praise,  
For he allows the virgin's foot that strays,  
He doth advice the Roman girls to meet  
In theatres, and gad about the street,  
In my opinion, he amiss persuades,  
If I be judge; it is not work for maids.  
In streets lust rageth, there thou canst not be  
Safe; than keep home, that's the best place for th●  
The sheep that through the briers and thorns dotstry  
Much of his wool, often loseth by the way:  
Neither can she her modesty keep long,  
Who much frequents the * Dionaean throng.  
The ornament of women is to flourish in hon● and elegancy of manners: and for the most pa●● keep within at home: to prescribe limits to her lips, eyes, and cheeks, and not often to put her foot over her own threshold. Greg. Nazian.   


there's danger, strictly to confine  
Either young wenches, or new wine.   Phi. 
Must we be than in lasting darkness tied,  
As in close houses ever to abide?  
Is it enough that we a mistress fear,  
And from her tasty fingers blows often bear?  
Our mind's now stronger grown, love bids us play,  
And of the City take a free survey.  
Locks cannot let, Venus sets wide the door,  
When lovers entrance to closed maids implore:  
Love hate's all durance, he was ever free,  
And Bacchus too delights in liberty,  
New wine: young maids: by too strict keeping still,  
Hazard the cask, and house: Both apt to spill.  
Not woman can be restrained against her william  Lib. Amor. 3. 
That which is most kept from us, most we crave,  
The prey calls thiefs, few love what they can have.  Id. 
Such as have leave to sin, commit least ill,  
The power to offend, often takes away the william  Id. 
That less pleaseth us to which we are most persuaded: that rather we desire from which we are most dissuaded.   


There can be given not strong security,  
For Maiden heads in their nativity.   Phi. 
Maids, if you look to roast your Chestnuts well,  
Observe first with a knife to wound the shell:  
If with unbroken skin it touch the fire,  
'Twill break in pieces, and with noise retire.  
Who to chaste love shall make her breast obdure,  
From Venus, o what pangs shall she procure?  
She burns, nor can her youth take least content,  
that's cloistered, and at home in prison penned.  
The bridle once taken of, she grows untame,  
And than, with greater fury burns her flame.  
Some I have seen at lawful love repined,  
And after, madly to base lust incline.  
Dangerous is the custody of a virginity, and most difficultly is she to be restrained, to whom 'the yoke of virginity is imposed. Egn.  
That which Tacitus spoke of the plebe or multitude, may not unfitly be construed upon young virgins, vid. They are altogether impatient of mere servitude, or absolute liberty.   


To free thyself from danger clean,  
Eat the extremes, and keep the mean.   An. 
I do not prisons on young Maids confer,  
Only would curb their feet jest they should err.  Phi. 
You charged me to not suitor lend an ear,  
What Husband shall I have than? let me hear.  An. 
Mary one grave, of masculine virtue, who  
Not lose venereal sports is pleased to know,  
On whom Apollo smiles, Themis doth grace,  
He will direct thy path, secure thy place.  
If rude (thy self) one ruder thou shalt try,  
Neither the nuptial office can supply.  
join two unlighted Tapers without flame,  
(How so thou will't,) the darkness is the same.  
What profiteth it thee to grate one tooth against another. Martial.  
Young Maid's fancies are inclined,  
To'affect the shape, neglect the mind.  Phi. 
Wouldst have a maid to take into her bed,  
A Sophist of stern brow, like Cato bread,  
Whom, court's by day; by night, his books afflict,  
In curtain business, will not he be strict?  
Whilst he his client's cause doth only mind,  
Small right (alas) the bed is like to find.  
The gown the loadstones brain hath, hard things draws,  
But in soft amours cannot pled a cause.  
Laws not of 
* Benshes of judgement.  Benshes, but the bed I love  
The austere brow I have not will to prove.  
Give me the man that's deeply read in kisses,  
And sure my love aims at not further blisses.  
Let us remember that the sex in its own nature is weak, as not in body, so neither in mind being able to under go things serious and weighty, therefore we must allow them retirement, and relaxation from their cares, and give them some liberty of sporting, and telling tales among their friends and neighbours: provided, not curiosity be used, etc. Vives.   

Merry Suitors, make mad Husbands.  An. 
What madness is't of kissing thus to prate,  
When thou a sacred bed shouldst intimate?  
Leave lusts to Venus, Husbands are a treasure,  
And holy Hymen hate's the name of pleasure.  
Not groom or squire of Venus can be fit  
To take a houses charge and manage it.  
These 
* The Sun of the morning.  Memnon's statue follow (in their suit)  
Who when the Sun shines, clamour, else are mute.  
Whilst thy choice 
* He was slain at Troy.  Paris in his first love raged,  
Betwixt you a thousand kisses were engaged.  
But that heat past, thou (to thy grief) hast tried,  
The art only an unworthy soldier's bride.  
It is hard to maintain credit where truth is suspe●●ed: but howsoever suspicion may enter a false action, ●● truth will never bring in her plea, to suspect where ●ere is cause is sufferable: but where there is not cause, it ● intolerable. Octavius Caesar Domum suam non solum cri●●e, sed suspitione criminis, vacare voluit. i Augustus Caesar, ●ould have his house not only free from fault, but even ●●m the very suspicion of crime.   

Sorrow treads, where folly leads.  ●●. 
On the bright fire whilst some fish too much gaze,  
Fixing their eyes upon the tapers blaze:  
They neither mind the fishers nor their boats,  
Nor their sharp knives prepared to rip their throats.  
Whilst the young man, whom mad love doth surprise  
Admires his mistress front, and starlike eyes:  
Or whilst the girl whom childish folly blinds,  
His new sprung beard and feature only minds.  
All faults lie hide, there is not further stay,  
'tis now enough if they can kiss and play.  
Twixt these where itching makes such quick dispatch  
'tis often seen Megaera spoils the match.  
As Circe enjoyed not those whom she transformed in to Swine, Lions, etc. but affected Ulysses in his own perfectness above all others: So those women who by a morous potions (to which I add whorish blandishments) have got their husbands, for the most part lead with them an unquiet life, through madness. Plutarch.   

Where virtue ties, love never dies.  An. 
The Rose doth yield a savour sweet and strong,  
After 'tis shed, or in the Sun lain long.  
Fond is the love of feature, which doth fade,  
And putrid grows, when age doth once invade,  
Agues deface, and cares the beauty stain,  
And these in young men often breed disdain.  
But wit's more steadfast; 'twill to age endure,  
A thousand ways that, favour can procure.  
Grey hairs, nor wrinkles, can such ardour quench,  
Nor love (on virtue built) in Lethe drench.  
If match with one, whose mind his shape excels,  
That love, till death lasts only, and none else.  
In us we naught immortal found,  
Saving the goods of breast and mind. Ovid.  Couples ill matched, like garments patched. An 
If love thyself, do not an old man wed,  
Jest thou lie frozen in a desolate bed.  
If any; thou a posthume birth shalt bear.  
He, if thy child call father, cannot hear.  
Or should he have choice whom to make his heir,  
Fame, to speak largely of thee will not spare.  
Mean time the fair flower of thy youth is spent,  
And thy best days thou sadly shalt lament.  
Why doth the Ivy about the Elm so cling?  
Alas; one must perish, if the other spring,  
Whilst it (ambitious) about the top branch twines,  
The drooping Tree hangs down the head and pines.  
Matrimonium ita demum tranquillè exigi potest, si mulier ●ca, maritus surdus fiat, etc.  
Than marriage may be said to be passed in all quietness, ●hen the wife is blind, and the husband deaf. The na●●●e of women is subject to jealousy, from whence grows ●amour and noise, and the wife's garrulity and prating ●sends the husband, which he should be fare from, if ● wanted his hearing, etc.   

Children in law, breed may a flaw.  〈◊〉 
Hence brats in law? maid's, mothers the first day,  
What makest thou in a widowed bed I pray?  
When Hymen joins you single: these are bread  
Are the best pledges of thy maidenhead.  
To grafted a branch with ripe first-fruits if thou strive,  
●Tis a mere burden, and it cannot thrive.  
The withered apples fall (unfit to taste)  
For both the stock and graft endure like waste,  
Slips without fruit, transpose unto thy tree,  
So shall thy fruit in Autumn better be.  
Do't whilst the gum in the green rind doth swell,  
Plants without mutual sap never prospero well.  
A small benefit may arise to a great profit, if it be sea●ably conferred, says Curtius.  
Time is the best counsellor, and the chief precedent counsels, says Antisthenes, and Cicero calls it the most sect Herald of truth.   

To have thy will, be humble still.  
Now thy injunctions please: but, woon with gold,  
My father aims me at a man that's old.  
What shall I do? my love I will not slave  
To an old King, (though he my love should crave.)  An. 
If he to one unworthy would thee tie,  
What ere he urge, let not thy voice sound hie,  
Prayers arm the virgin, If entreat; 'tis done,  
Stern fathers, by not other art are won.  
Smooth foreheads more prevail, than these averse  
Hard hearts, submission, and not fear can pierce.  
The Pinetree Nut thou canst not break with blow  
But a soft fire, the shells wide open throws.  
Mild power doth compass that which rough violence never can. Claud.  
Where men by favour strive to git  
God's favour, and encourage it,  
But the same gods when force is used,  
(As angry) think themselves abused.   

1.  An. 
We are in har bour, thou shalt be a bride,  
Hear something in that state thyself to guide.  
The grafter, all the native sprigs doth strip,  
That the whole sap may feed the adopted slip.  
All wand'ring fancies she must quite expel,  
Who in a lawful match would prospero well.  
Not sooner shall thy nuptial Tead take fire,  
But thou on him must fix thy whole desire.  
Not thy old playfellow must thy house frequent  
Nor he with whom (before) thy hours thou sp●  
Let mother and thy sister now go by,  
Jest former love the adopted sap should dry.  
Let men obey the laws, and women their husband Socrates. Silence and patience makes concord betw●●● married couples. A good husband aught to be wise words, wary in conversation, careful in provision, ●●gent in ordering: a discreet master, a careful fat● A good wife must be grave abroad, well governed home, patiented to suffer, constant to love, to her neighbours friendly, courteous to her servants, careful of her children. Theophrastus.   

2.  An. 
An I deceived? or more else should be spoken,  
To such as newly enter Hymen's yoke.  
The stock which late had branches of his own,  
Must now by a strange leaf and fruit be known,  
The top cut of, it boasts not its own seed,  
But bears what another branch did breed.  
When married; thou thyself will't than withdraw,  
For now thy husband is to thee a law.  
What he prescribes: to that thou must agreed,  
(If wise) so partner of his counsels be.  
By his direction, all thy actions sway,  
To yields to conquer, and (to rule) to obey.  
A chaste Matron by obeying her husband's will, get●eth command over him, Bias. But give thy wife not pow●● over thee, for if this day thou sufferest her to tread upon thy foot, she will be ready by to morrow to spurn at ●y head, etc.   

3.  ●●. 
Grafting hath more on which thy mind may rest,  
Grafted than these precepts likewise in thy breast.  
Trees grace the graft, by sap themselves do spend,  
And their own ornament to others lend.  
If with thy golden dower thy house shine bright,  
And swell his coffers which before were light:  
Be not thou proud, nor thy own wealth proclaim,  
Let all thy house rest in thy husband's name.  
Who would not think that clamorous woman mad,  
To cry This, That, from me, my husband had.  
These were, and are still mine. It is not known  
How wives can boast of aught that is their own.  
That the law make men lords, there is not doubt,  
And 'tis a right, that goes the world throughout.  
Marriage teacheth, that a woman should hold her husband to be all things unto her, and that he alone shal● succeed in all loving and dear nominations, which (a● we read in Homer) the most virtuous Andromache confer● upon her husband Hector.  
What father, mother, brother, else can be,  
Thou-babes, thou, sweet husband art all these to me.   

The Epilogue.  
Proceeding further we were strooke with fear,  
Because of noise which Anna first did hear:  
Enough if not too much, come now let's break,  
This having said, she blushed, and ceased to speak.   
FINIS.   

Sundry Fancies written upon several occasions. By the same Author.  
The Queen feasting the King at Somerset house, upon his Birth day, hers falling in the same week, this was there spoken unto them.  
WE cannot read in any flourishing state,  
Whether by King sward or by optimate,  
A greater blessing happening to one Nation,  
By two such births beneath one constellation.  
For being in one month, one week; small let October.  
There was, these two blessed birthdays had not met:  
Yet hath the powerful hand of heaven so guided,  
(Though) by small distance of two days divided:  
These stars who than, their influence had alone  
Are now combined, fixed in one glorious Throne:  
From whose joint rays another's risen since,  
(Lusterd from both) a sweet and hopeful Prince.  
OH may be from your virtues so much gain,  
That little Charles may prove our Charlemagne.  To them both at parting. 
The Romans of their birthdays had such care,  
They kept them sacred, and not one might dare,  
In all their families to work, but play,  
Observing that, as an high festival day.  
The Emperor's birthdays were called Albae, white,  
As the sole lustre, and their Kingdom's light.  
In you: how much doth heaven your Nations bless,  
To enjoy two such: the greater, and the less.  

A speech spoken to their two excellent Majesties, at the first Play played by the Queen's Servants, in the new Theatre at White Hall.  
When Greece, the chief priority might claim  
For Arts, and Arms, and held the eminent name  
Of Monarchy; They erected diverse places,  
Some to the Muses, others to the Graces:  
Where Actors striven, and Poets did device  
With tongue and pen, to please the ears and eyes  
Of Princely Auditors; The time was, when  
To hear, the rapture of one Poet's pen,  
A Theatre hath been built, By the fate's doom,  
When the Empire was removed from thence to Rome.  
The potent Caesars had their Circi, and  
Large Amphitheatres: in which might stand  
And sit, full fourscore thousand, all in view,  
And touch of voice: This great Augustus known.  
Nay Rome, it's wealth, and potency enjoyed,  
Till by the barbarous Goths these were destroyed.  
But may this structure last, and you be seen  
Here a spectator, with your Princely Queen,  
In your old age, as in your flourishing prime,  
To outstrip Augustus' both in fame and time.   

To the King and Queen upon a New-year's day at night: to Two-faced janus with a great golden Key in his hand, the Presenter.  
Where is my Son December? youngest and last  
Of twelve? what sleeping now? now snorting fast?  
In this joys festival? from years ago,  
Solemnised one thousand six hundred thirty one.  
Can neither music, sport, nor mirth awake thee,  
But to eleven month's sleep must thou betake thee?  
Why doth not January than appear,  
Before old Janus father of the year?  
My elder boy? now I remember. He,  
Is busied in this annual jubilee.  
And still the one hand with the other shifts,  
In giving and receiving New-year's gifts.  
But stay; two faces janus? one to view  
The past year; the other, that which shall ensue.  
Shalt be imputed to thy age or sloth 
Meaning their 2. Majesties.   
To neglect these; the glory of them both?  
Not; fall thus low, to celebrated that throne  
In which the two great lights are met in one  
Without eclipse; This key command's the screw,  
That locks the past year up, and opens the new,  
This shuts up all disaster, dearth, disease,  
Opening to you all glad things that may please,  
To crown your blessedness, and as that go.  
Hath crowned you with an Heir (as yet alone)  
there's by auspicious jove a second breeding,  
Our hope, and honour of the year succeeding.  
As in the last, may Heaven in this defend them,  
Whilst janus with his twelve sons shall attend them.   

The Epilogue spoken by the same janus.  
Health, strength, and many a glad new year,  
A constant solace, joyful cheer,  
Wait ever on that awful throne,  
Where rest two Princely hearts, made one.  
From which blessed union, may supply  
Of issue to eternity  
Grace and become it: These presages  
Prove fortunate to after ages,  
Which long succession hence may see,  
Till time and hours shall cease to be.   

A Prologue spoken before the King, when her Majesty was great with child.  
Health, joy, peace, plenty, and a flourishing state,  
A dexter omen; an auspicious fate,  
Attend you ever, like Hyperion shine  
In his meridian, never to decline.  
And may your royal Cynthia who hath run  
Six annual courses with you, and begun,  
Now on the seventh, who to your Kingdom's Cheer  
And your great joy, at this time fills her sphere,  
In a most hopeful plenitude: so wain  
After blessed issue, that your glorious reign,  
May see your Son's Sons Princes of such name,  
That the whole world may echo to their fame.  
From her chaste womb may such fair daughter's spring,  
That each may prove the consort to a King.  
And both survive to see't: this we entreat  
May come from her who is so good, so great.   

The Epilogue.  
Those heavenly Guardians that with patents large,  
Have in tuition Kings and Kingdom's charge,  
Protect you both, that as we daily see  
Nations, that fare remote and foreign be  
Sand hither as to an Oracle to know,  
what's for their safety best: you may still grow  
In wisdom and in power, till your command  
May extend itself so fare by Sea and Land,  
That through the Christian world it may be said,  
All beg of Charles, but he needs not man's aid.   

Another spoken at White Hall before their sacred Majesties.  
Exuberant joys, delights transcending waite  
About the orb of this illustrious state.  
All sad disasters fly beyond those Seas  
That ebb and flow unto the Antipodes.  
Or if they chance to linger by the way,  
May they with Mahomet, and Ali stay:  
But never in these Climes found place of rest  
Or shelter, where the sacred truth's professed,  
But in their stead, prosperity and peace,  
Abundance, health, with numerous increase  
Of royal issue about your throne be seen,  
To glad my sovereign, and rejoice his Queen:  
So shall your Nations in bright lustre shine,  
Figuring in these your People, powers divine.   

The Epilogue.  
Miriads of joys your royal he arts surprise,  
Yea more than any rapture can device,  
The heart of man conceive, or tongue express,  
That in your more than common happiness,  
All your true subjects with unanimous voice,  
May both in you, and your blessed seed rejoice.   

A Prologue spoken to their sacred Majesties at Hampton Court.  
If Caesar, greatest in great Pompey's fall,  
As being made the sovereign over all  
The (than known) world; or if Augustus; He  
Who left his ample name Hereditary  
To all succeeding Emperors; If to the last  
Of the twelve Caesars, Theaters were graced,  
And when the julian family expired  
In many ages after were admired?  
And the more fame from foreign parts to win,  
Adorned without, and beautified within.  
If by succession we can draw them down  
Through nations, realms and tongues, even to our own,  
Proving these flourishing Kingdoms prospered well,  
And never failed before these structures fallen:  
Or were suppressed; for 'tis a bad presage,  
(All mirth exiled) still follows wrack and strage.  
If than a factious peevish malcontent,  
Envying a blessed state; shall his malice vent  
In bald unlicenced papers? so much daring  
As neither Sovereign, nor the subject sparing:  
Assuming in a strange libellious strain,  
To think all wisdom treasured in his brain?  
Be all such frustrate in their vain endeavour,  
Whilst you o Royal Caesar live for ever.   

The Epilogue.  
joves' Influent Planet boding power and state  
For ever, on this high tribunal wait.  
Apolloes fire, add verdure, to your days,  
And crown your long reign with his Daphne's bays.  
Hermes attend you with his peaceful star,  
And Mars protect you in all menacing war.  
May Venus and the Moon's bright constellations,  
With their best fulgence smile on all your Nations:  
But on all malcontents let Saturn lower,  
Such as malign your glory and your power.   

Spoken to their two Majesties at Hampton Court. Prologue.  
Among the Greecians there were annual feasts,  
To which none were invited as chief gests,  
Save Princes and their wives: Among the men  
Not argument could be desputed than  
But who best governed; and (as't did appear)  
He was proclaimed sole Sovereign for that year,  
The Queens and Ladies argued at that time  
For beauty and for virtue, who was prime.  
And she had the like honour. Two here be,  
For Beauty one, the other Majesty.  
Most worthy, did that custom still persever,  
Not for one year, but to be sovereigns ever.   

Epilogue.  
Still the more glorious that the creatures be,  
They in their native goodness are more free  
To things below them: so the sun we found  
Unpartially to shine on all mankind,  
Denying light to none, and you we may  
Great King, most justly call our light, our day,  
Whose glorious course may never be quite run,  
Whilst earth hath sovereign, or the Heavens a Sun.   

Spoken to their two Majesties at White Hall. Prologue.  
Whom Heaven with all choice graces hath endowed,  
Whom even the Angel's praise and men admire!  
On whom your Maker hath his bounty showed,  
Where nothing wants that man's heart can desire,  
Your people's joy, your Peers selected pleasure.  
Your Kingdom's admiration, Nations wonder,  
Of foreign climes the praise, of ours the treasure.  
OH never may that sacred union sunder.  
That whilst we daily of high heaven importune,  
You may be in your royal issue blessed,  
You may still grow in greatness, fame and fortune,  
All which at seeming height, be still increased.  
Prove thou a prophet muse, say 'tis decreed,  
All Christendom shall flourish in your seed.   

The Epilogue.  
Can we all Panegyries put in one,  
That have been on the ancient Heroes written,  
They might all be conferred on you alone,  
And you great Princes justly merit it.  
OH may you in your happy loves persever,  
Diurnally augment, but not decline,  
That this your people may admire you ever,  
Till heaven that gave you us make you divine.  
And that which we of aged Nestor read,  
May of you two be chronicled indeed.   

Spoken to their excellent Majesties upon the like occasion. Prologue.  
Excellent Princes may you ever be,  
As great as good, each year a jubilee.  
That as heaven's bounty crowns you with the increase  
Of honour, glory, and domestic peace.  
You, with like liberal hands instated here,  
May to each subject and deserving Peer:  
Like the bright Sun your glorious favours throw,  
To comfort and make flourish what's below.  
Whilst we like the woods Choristers still sing  
Loud Hymns to you the Lord of this our spring.   

The Epilogue.  
You that are Emblems of that light divine,  
Which equally on all estates doth shine,  
The Palace and the Cottage, flower and weed,  
Of whose bright lustre all have use, and need,  
Even from the Scarlet, to the Russet: Grey  
As well as Purple: Had we power, as they  
That are in eminent place; there could not be  
Those, should express more gratitude than we.  
The rich may pay in gold, that which he owes,  
But we our debt, only in words and shows.   

Spoken to the King and Queen, at the second time of the Authors Play called Cupid's Mistress or Cupid and Psyche, presented before them. Cupid, the Prologue.  
Yes; sure 'twas here, where some few hours I passed  
The very time that I descended last.  
Yes; here it was, I know it by a face,  
To which my Mistress Psyche must give place.  
A presence; that from Venus takes all power,  
And makes each place she comes in, Cupid's bower.  
Though in their several spheres each Planet tried,  
(With all the Gods) to feast me and my bride,  
With Nectar and Ambrosia, yet that waste  
Of godlike fare, could not my palate taste,  
But I must all celestial sweets forbear,  
To review earthly Jove and Juno here.  
Whom having seen; Hail to you once again.  
Long as the Spheres continued may you reign  
In Majesty, in power, with issue blessed  
Be all these, with your fortunate years increase,  
Till Cupid ever young, with time grow old,  
And you this Iron age changing to gold,  
Repured by your two virtues, These, Ethereal  
May change to brighter chairs in the heavens Imperial   

The speech spoken to their two Majesties, eight days before, being the King's birthday: presented at Somerset house, by the Queen's appointment, she than feasting the King. Cupid, the Prologue.  
Who so unread; doth not of Plato hear  
His Annus magnus, and his vertent year?  
In which the Stars and Planets, Moon and Sun,  
Tired with continual labour, having run  
So many ages long peregrination,  
Each returns fresh and new to their first station.  
This is the year sure; rather this the day  
Able to turn November into May.  
This day's in heaven a jubilee of joy,  
Where Angels sing in quires Vive la Roy.  
This is the royal birthday of a King,  
Than Men with Angels, Iô Poean sing.  
I'had almost lost myself: when my intent  
Was to tell why I come; and from whom sent;  
From one, to whom I'm but a shadow; she  
The very soul of amabilitie.  
One that without my quiver and my bow,  
Command's the hearts, and eyes of high and low.  
Whose name inscribed here did you but behold,  
I'would change the sooty Ink to liquid gold.  
Of fulgent beauty, but so pure a mind,  
As if tinctured from heaven, and so divined.  
● Love from Love an sent, but she the right,  
Than grace great King the Triumphs of love's night.   

The Mask concluding with a stately measure, of the Gods and Planets, Cupid (they all standing about him bending) the Epilogue thus concludes.  
Now royal Princes let me turn to you,  
Deign from love's mouth to take this nights adieu.  
Think all these Planets that on earth here move,  
(Shadows of these celestial one's above)  
Breath on you their best influences: Vulcan, He  
Shall henceforth take charge of your Armoury.  
juno the marriage Queen, shall bless your bed,  
The Sun shall take the bright beams from his head,  
To increase your glorious lustre, and the Moon  
Attend on you, to make your midnight noon.  
Cores with plenty shall in rich your store,  
And Mercury shall fly from shore to shore  
Upon your errands: prove your happy ranger,  
Homebred to espy, and foresee foreign danger.  
Venus with sweets, and I, with love will charm you,  
And after all these Jove with power shall arm you.  
 kept you waking long: good night, 'tis late.  
Many such birthdays may you celebrated.   

Spoken to his Majesty upon a New years day at night. The Prologue.  
Renowned King, we to your ears commend  
These our unpolisht labours, harsh and low,  
Hoping your grace will like the Sun extend,  
Those glorious beams that make the Cedars grow,  
Shine on the basest shrubs, his virtue's seen  
As well in weeds as flowers, for both are green.  
Than let your Majesty by whose aspect  
All these sweetgarden flowers, these Trees still flourish  
The lest part of your glorious shine reflect  
On us: your beams great Britain's land doth nourish.  
Still moving in this bright and luminous sphere,  
To joy your Court with many a glad New-yeare.  
Amongst other presents, high and sacred King,  
This solemn day presented at your seat  
Their tribute love, your humble vassals bring.  
But though our gifts be small, our wills are great,  
We come, though naked of desert or merit,  
Yet armed with wishes, and devoutest prayer,  
Trusting you many ages may inherit  
That high Tribunal, peace and love prepare,  
That this first day which enters a new year,  
On which the two faced janus' looks with joy,  
May many seasons hence, with gladsome cheer,  
Be hallowed still, that heaven's hand may destroy  
Your enemies: and so your friends maintain.  
They many years hence may admire your reign   

Another spoken at the Court to the like purpose. Prologue.  
As all small rivers to the ocean run,  
As to the sovereign of their silver streams,  
As all less lights do borrow of the Sun,  
From whom alone they take their golden beams.  
So to this glorious Sun we pay our light,  
Without whose face we live in endless night.  
OH you, on your own earth solely divine,  
Who fill your fair Court with your beams of grace,  
With one small glimmering on our pastimes shine,  
The Sun bars none the beauty of his face.  
Poets that have like Larks already sung,  
Unto the morning of your prosperous reign,  
Shall with an Angel's quill and Cherubs tongue,  
Your grace and goodness through the world proclaim.  
But when you reach the noontyde point, than stay,  
And in the height of glory shine for ay.   

Epilogue.  
Most high and sacred Sir, we now are cast  
●ow as the earth, struck mute with fear and terror,  
Jest through our want of judgement we have past  
Words rudely placed: or duty mixed with error.  
The Shepherd's Pipe made of an Oaten Reed,  
Cannot compare with great Apollo's lyre:  
Nor should our Muse, that not delight can breed  
Unto your high and Princely ears aspire.  
We bring a mite that would present a mine,  
Our loves we pay, to whom our lives we own,  
Water we bring, who could afford it wine,  
Our art you see, our hearts we cannot show.  
OH if we could! we would enrich this place  
With joys essential, blessings above measure.  
Heaven, Earth, Air, Sea, all power upon your grace,  
Their special bounties, and their richest treasure.  
In our last wish all your desires attain,  
Life, safety, health, with a long-lasting reign.   

A Prologue spoken at the right Honourable the Earl of Dover house in Broadstreet, at a Play in a most bountiful Christmas he kept there; the Speaker Hospitality a frolic old fellow: A Choler of Brawn in one hand, and a deep Bowl of Muscadel in the other.  
Where is that rich man's Minion, called Frugality?  
What hath he quite hence banished Hospitality?  
In days of old, when yea and nay did pass  
For currant troth, I and old Christenmasse  
Were of acquaintance; but of late I found  
Frugality quick sighted, myself blind.  
He goes through Court, through Country, City, and  
Finds entertainment, for each frugal hand  
Still bids him welcome: yet a novice he:  
But I, that an of more antiquity  
Than Paul's (alas) by time and age decayed,  
Nay almost since this City's ground-sills laid,  
Walk up and down and knock at each man's door,  
And find the same cold welcome as before.  
But hark, a Cock crowd, and I herded a Swan  
Echoing to him, that here did live a man,  
Noble, and of that high and ancient strain,  
To call back Hospitality again.  
Than by the good Lords and kind Ladies leave,  
Since their wide Gates stand ready to receive  
So great a stranger, and (in me) these guests  
●o often invited to their annual feasts.  
This blessing take, o whether in this place,  
Or where so else this blessed time you so grace,  
May your warm Chimneys smoke, and hot fires glow,  
Whilst Thames breeds Swans, or Cocks ''gainst Christmas crow.   

It is to be observed that the Earl in Heraldry gives the Swan, and the Countess the Cock, etc. The Epilogue presented by delight.  
●e see bright day succeeds dark night,  
disaster past, than comes delight,  
●rom seeming death revived to tell,  
●hat here she henceforth means to devil,  
●hen hospitality hath grace,  
●elight should ever there find place.  
●eceive her than your household guest,  
●his night to attend you to your rest:  
●nd when your quiet sleep is spent,  
awake you to your more content,  
●home, abroad, handmaid, and guide:  
●●ether you sit, lie, walk or ride,  
●ort, purpose serious meditation,  
●●d thought, still have to me relation,  
●●d so for ever, as this night,  
awaited on by choice delight.   

Spoken to the right Honourable the Earl of Dover, at his house in Broadstreet upon a Candlemas night. The Prologue.  
●● downy Swan though yoked in Venus' Team,  
Yet of all birds that ever loved the stream,  
Is held to be the chiefest: Pallas Owl  
In Athens famed for many a learned scroll,  
Composed in Ink and Oil, the emblem of watch,  
By which the most laborious students catch  
At Arts (howe're, benighted) was not more  
Famous, in Greece, than on Caister shore  
Your sacred Bird, which the nine Sisters striven  
To make the symbol of conjugal love,  
With which the Cock, the Bird of Mars combined,  
A double guardian knot, to be untwined  
Never: 'tis now made fast, so intricate,  
Not Alexander's sword, not time, not fate  
Can e'ver untie, for what's in virtue laid,  
Envy can never blast, nor age invade.  
In this blessed state both you, and yours, now stand  
As first disposed, so strengthened by that hand,  
Which as it makes, protects; you have begun  
To grace the City with your presence: run  
That happy course still: you and your loved wife  
Have to dead hospitality given new life.  
Still cherish it: old Christenmasse almost starved  
Through base neglect, by you hath been preserved.  
OH give him still like welcome, that whilst he  
Hath name on earth, you may his harbourer be.   

Epilogue.  
What man can wish his bliss to crown,  
Or in abundance heaven pour down.  
Health, plenty, solace, all delights  
That lengthen days, or shorten nights.  
Heaven's favour, and the Court's best grace,  
Attend the great Lord of this place.  
Old Christenmasse hunger-starved and dry,  
Who erst did drink deep and fared hie  
You welcome, and with Princely cheer,  
Feast janus' father of the year.  
The sparing Chuff could be content  
To thrust the twelve days into Lent.  
You England's custom, wake from sleep,  
Which all the Christian world still keep:  
For which may you thus stored with guests  
Long celebrated these annual feasts,  
That you and your good Lady may  
Together, many a New-year's day,  
Rejoice in your blessed Issue till  
The hours shall fail, and time stand still.   

A speech spoken before the right Honourable the Earl of Dover, at his House at Hunsden, as a preparation to a Mask, which consisted of nine Ladies. Presented the last New-year's night.  
The silver Swan soft gliding in the stream,  
Called to the Cock than perching on a beam,  
And said to him; why, Chanticleer, when I  
Move on the waves so low, thou sittest so high?  
The Cock replied: OH thou my best loved Sister  
Well known in Po, Meander, and Caister,  
But, best in Thamesis; Dost thou not know  
The reason, why we in December crow?  
Moore than before, or after? who again  
Thus answered: we of nothing can complain  
Being of all the birds that are, most white,  
Loyal and chaste, and taking our delight  
In rivers only, bathing there our feet  
To make our rare-heard music sound more sweet.  
Yet one thing to resolve, would make me proud,  
To tell why at this time thou singest so loud?  
Who said: none of our ancestors but known  
That ever since Saint Peter's Cock first crew,  
We are enjoined to make loud proclamation,  
Of our most blessed Saviour's Incarnation.  
●o which the Swan, (than in a Tone much higher)  
Said, in this Carol I will fill the choir:  
Which being voiced, did sound so sweet and shrill,  
That where the Swan and Cock were herded, did fill  
The air with such an echo, thither came  
Upon that summons, both the blind and lame,  
Hungry and thirsty, poor, of all estates,  
And none but fully sated at these gates.  
Long may your bounty last, and we rejoice,  
To hear both City and the Country voice  
Your Hospitality, to your loud fame,  
Whilst Time endures, or Christmas bears a name.  
And now great Lord and Lady both prepare,  
To know what Sports in agitation are.   

Truth presenting the Maskers.  
Plain Truth who only hath the power  
To steer the way to virtue's bower,  
By these clear Tapers shining bright,  
Doth celebrated this jovial night.  
But by the Bird of Mars that crows,  
I now perceive the morning grows.  
Her love to Phoebus to express,  
And put his steeds in glorious dress  
Who shows you what chaste virgins devil,  
Within the bosom of this Cell,  
Appear than OH thou triple Trine  
Of number, with the Muses nine.  
(Apollo's sacred daughters) still  
Frequent about Parnassus' hill.  
Or if you number them by Three,  
The first are the three Charitces,  
Handmaids to Venus, Graces styled,  
On whom their Father jove still smiled.  
The second Chorus doth contain  
Those beauties, by the Trojan swain  
On Ida judged: The third we call  
The Virtue's Theological,  
Faith, Hope, and Love, haply meet here,  
To crown the parting of the year,  
With Roses fresh of Swanlike hue,  
Which from a royal Stem first grew,  
And the brave Yorkists long since boar,  
These virtue's bower, do best decore,  
Flowers redolent, which Heralds say,  
janus doth wear, as well as May.  
Fare may they spread, be ever seen,  
With milk white leaves, and branches green,  
Folded in amorous twines together,  
Which Winter never may blast or whither.   

A young witty Lad playing the part of Richard the third: at the Read Bull: the Author because he was interested in the Play to encourage him, wrote him this Prologue and Epilogue. The Boy the Speaker.  
If any wonder by what magic charm,  
Richard the third is shrunk up like his arm:  
And where in fullness you expected him,  
You see me only crawling, like a limb  
Or piece of that known fabric, and not more,  
(When he so often hath been viewed before.)  
Let all such know: a Roundlet never so small  
●ss called a vessel: being a Tun; that's all.  
he's termed a man, that shows a dwarfish thing,  
Not more's the Guard, or Porter to the King.  
●o Pictures in small compass I have seen  
Drawn to the life, as near, as those have been  
Ten times their bigness: Christenmas loaves are bread,  
so's your least Manchet: have you never read  
Large folio Sheets which Printers overlook,  
And cast in small, to make a pocket book?  
●o Richard is transformed: if this disguise  
●how me so small a letter for your eyes,  
You cannot in this letter read me plain,  
he'll next appear, in texted hand again.   

The Epilogue.  
Great I confess your patience hath now been,  
To see a little Richard: who can win,  
Or praise, or credit? eye, or think to excel,  
By doing after what was done so well?  
It was not my ambition to compare,  
Not envy, or detraction: such things are  
In men of more grown livers, greater spleen,  
But in such lads as I an, seldom seen.  
I do, but like a child, who seas one swim,  
And (glad to learn) will venture after him  
Though he be sound ducked for't, or to tell  
My mind more plainly, one that feign would spell,  
In hope to read more perfect: all the gains  
I expect for these unprofitable pains,  
Is, that you would at parting from this place  
Do but unto my littleness that grace  
To spy my worth, as I have seen dim eyes  
To look through spectacles, or perspectives,  
That in your gracious view I may appear,  
Of small, more great; of coming far of, near.   

A Prologue to the Play of Queen Elizabeth as it was last revived at the Cockpit, in which the Author taxeth the most corrupted copynow imprinted, which was published without his consent. Prologue.  
Plays have a fate in their conception lent,  
Some so short lived, not sooner showed, than spent;  
But born to day, to morrow buried, and  
Though taught to speak, neither to go nor stand.  
This: (by what fare I know not) sure not merit,  
That it disclaims, may for the age inherit.  
Writing above one and twenty; but ill nursed,  
And yet received, as well performed at first,  
Graced and frequented, for the cradle age,  
Did throng the Seats, the Boxes, and the Stage  
So much; that some by Stenography drawn  
The plot: put it in print: (scarce one word true:)  
And in that lameness it hath limped so long,  
The Author now to vindicate that wrong  
Hath taken the pains, upright upon its feet  
To teach it walk, so please you sit, and see't.   

Epilogue.  
The Princess young Elizabeth  seen  
In her minority, and since a Queen.  
A Subject, and a Sovereign: in the one  
A pitied Lady: in the royal Throne  
A potent Queen. It now in you doth rest  
To know, in which she hath demeaned her best.   

Upon his Majesty's last birth-night, he being than thirty five years of age, and the Queen great with child.  
A Star appearing of bright constellation,  
Moore luminous than those of the same station,  
The powers Celestial much amazed there at  
To know the cause thereof, in Council sat,  
And summoned Mercury the winged god  
To search and found what wonder it might bided,  
Who brought them word that Lachesis than drawn  
A thread from Clotho's distaff, which to 'his view  
Was of such splendour, and withal so fine,  
The substance gold) and of so close a twine,  
Not edge could sunder, and that Star (so bright)  
Risen five and thirty years since, as this night.  
You are (if time we may compute) by story  
In the meridian of your age and glory.  
Your Cynthia too that shines by you so near,  
And now with such rare splendour fills her sphere,  
Whose birthdays almost meet, as if that fate  
Would add a double lustre to your state.  
Never may your two golden threads be spun.  
Whilst the Moon guide's the night, or day the Sun.   

Epilogue.  
What Muse so mute, but both with voice and strings  
Will strive to celebrated the births of Kings.  
King's birthdays, of such goodness and renown.  
Ceres should fill with plenty, Bacchus' Crown.  
Mirth should exceed it's limit, joys abound,  
And (after praise to heaven given) Healths go round.  
Not other language than let this night coin,  
But Vive, vive la Roy, vive la Royne.   

Spoken to the Palsgrave at his first coming over, in the presence of his Majesty, etc.  
The bright haired Comets are of all the best,  
Boding most good, when aiming towards the West.  
(So Astrologians say) and when such shine,  
Gross clouds they scatter, and the air refine.  
Now such an one appears; a glorious thing,  
As if the Eagle from her spacious wing  
Had her prime feather dropped, which to regain,  
She (almost) would give Almaigne, Rome, and Spain.  
A feather to be stuck in Venus' fan.  
The like to it, not juno's Peacock can  
In all her mooned train boast: may your fame fly,  
Mounted upon those plumes that soar most high:  
Of which, make two rare precedents, We entreat,  
One of Charles little, the other Charles the Great.   

Epilogus.  
A numerous fruit, sprung from a golden Tree,  
Such (as old Atlas, was ne're-seene by thee  
In thy Hesperian orchard) long to endure  
And prospero in the world: now grows mature.  
And the fair blossoms ready even to spread  
Their leaves abroad, and top the Eagles' Head  
(The Root still safe) wherever shall be seen  
Scient, transplanted, may it still grow green,  
So may none issuing from King james his Stem,  
But be thought fit to wear a Diadem.  
Would you a precedent by which to steer  
So fair a course? you may behold it here.  
If you to Honour's Apex would attain,  
Let the bright Stars that guide you be Charles wain.    

Funeral ELEGIES and EPITAPHS.  

A Funeral Elegy upon the death of the thrice noble Gentleman Sir George Saint Pool of Lincoln - shire my Countryman.  

IT is a maxim, neither birth nor state,  
Honour nor goodness can divert our fate.  
If these, or more, that did in him accrue  
(For these with his gifts valued were but few)  
Can do't; St. Poole had lived to England's good,  
Since all these did nobilitate his blood.   

Antiquity; which though it cannot save  
From death, yet helps to decorate the grave,  
Herald's his gentry, and doth highly advance  
His pedigree from the St. Pools of France,  
Which, from the Norman Innovation till  
His expiration hath been eminent still.  
That was his least, though some extol it most.  
Of that which is not ours why should we boast?  
that's our best nobleness which our virtues win,  
Not that, to which w' are born, and claim by kin.   

He was possessed of both, and in full measure,  
Did in his bosom many virtue's treasure,  
Which on the earth he did but put to loan,  
He now in heaven receives them ten for one.  
Upheld he hath, and husbanded that fame  
Which from his ancient Predecessors came.  
Being much in him augmented: his revenue  
Graced, and ennobled by that fair retenue.  
He kept about him still not like this age,  
Changing his train, to a Footboy or a Page.  
Free hospitality exiled the Ream,  
He taken in charge, which like a plenteous stream  
On his full tables flowed (now a strange thing)  
It rather seemed a torrent than a spring,   

His hand was ever open, but before  
All others, to the virtuous and the poor;  
Not as most men are bounteous now; to those  
That either need not, or with cunning gloze.  
They that were nearest bosomed, known, his heart,  
Beyond all favour still preferred desert.   

Religious zeal with which he was inspired  
'Bove common measure, made him both admired,  
And loved: besides upon that honoured place  
Where he had voice, always the poor man's case  
He would first hear, and howsoere the rest  
That sat with him were swayed, favoured th'oppressed.   

In all moralities, as courtesy,  
Bounty, love, generous affability,  
And other of like kind, each way so rare,  
He hath left few, that may with him compare.  
Of Arts, a Patron to the learned, still  
A known Moecena's, and to all of skill  
A favourer, witness that annual fee,  
Which (Oxford) in his death he bequeathed thee.   

But wherefore should my duller Muse aspire,  
To express what I better should admire,  
Which rather may extenuate, than with praise  
Condign, and worthy his high virtues raise.  
Than, with the Country who his death deplore,  
With these, whom he still patronised, the poor,  
The wronged, who miss his justice, with the weal,  
Which will soon want him, with the men of zeal,  
And most religious; with the nobler spirits  
With whom he was companion, Lords and Knights,  
With his Allies and friends; and with his train  
(Of servants, who have most cause to complain  
The loss of such a Master, in's best years  
Snatched from the earth) my Muse concludes in tears.    

A Funeral Elegy upon a virtuous Maid, who died the very day on which she should have been married.  
OH Hymen change thy saffron weeds,  
To habit black and sable:  
Change joyful Acts, to Funeral deeds,  
Since nothing's firm or stable.  
My bridals are to burials turned,  
My day of mirth to sorrow:  
Show me the man who most hath mourned?  
From him my grief I'll borrow.  
In stead of love and second life  
A dead corpse I embraced:  
Received a Coffin for a wife,  
With herbs and flowers inchaced.  
Her beauty better had becomed  
A Bridebed than a grave:  
But envious fates her days have summed  
And crossed what I did crave.  
All lovers that Have truly loved,  
Bear part in my laments:  
'Amongst thousand scarcely one hath proved  
My tragic discontents.  
Heaven mourn her death in stormy clouds,  
Seas, weep for her in brine.  
Thou-babes earth which now her body shrouds,  
Lament though she be thy.  
That music which with merry Tones  
Should to a bridal sound,  
Sigh out my grief and passionate groans,  
Since she is toomb'd in ground.   

An Epitaph upon the death of Sir Philip Woodhouse Knight Baronet.  
●rom valiant John this Philip Woodhouse spring's  
●ee (of the Chamber to the greatest Kings  
henry the fift) who'at famous Agincourt  
●oon that eternised Motto, Frappe for't,  
snatched from a noble Frenchman, when by force  
●● the mid-field, he beaten him from his horse,  
●nd brought him prisoner, for which warlike deed,  
As Soldiers still deserve their valour's meed)  
●ll Heraldry hath to his Crest allowed  
● Hand and Club extended from a cloud.  
This John had issue Edward: Edward than  
Thomas: and Thomas, Roger: He again  
Thomas, and Thomas, Roger, who was father  
To this Sir Philip, Himulco, whose dust we gather,  
●o mix with his brave Ancestors, the last  
●f six successive Knights whose fates are cast;  
●hus was he born, thus lineally descended,  
●or whom this pious Sacred is commended.  
Aged sixty one, Knighted in Spain, and he  
●f Baronet's in rank the fortieth three,  
●y order and precedence, here now sleeps,  
●or whom this monumental Marble weeps.  
Reader, who ever thou be'st, conceive this done  
By the due office of a grateful son.   

SATURN'S Epitaph upon one Mr. Robert Honywood and his Mother, and of their numerous Issue.  
●●crease and multiply God said: to thee  
●o doubt he spoke OH Honywood: for we  
●now, thou as Sire and Grandsire, hast to Heaven  
added, of souls one hundred twenty seven,  
●●d yet thy mother did thee fare surmount  
●hree hundred sixty seven, her age could count.   

Sacrum Amoris. Perpetuitati memoriae Katharinae Skip: obijt Anno salutis mille simo Sexcentesimo Tricesimo. A●tatis suae, Vicesimo nono.  
Can four weak lines comprise her virtues? not,  
Not volumes can, here lies beneath this stone,  
All that her sex since Eve could learn or know,  
(Alas) where shall they harbour now she's go?   

Of Mr. Thomas Skipp her husband since deceased, and buried in the same Tomb, whose Statue is placed in a circle of Books, for the great love he boar to learning.  
What stronger circle can Art-magick found  
Wherein a Scholars spirit can be confined,  
Than this of Books? next how he spent his time,  
Scorning earth's droffe to look on things sublime.  
So long thy love to learning shall be read,  
Whilst fame shall last, or Statues for the dead.   

An Epitaph upon a worthy Gentlewoman whose name was Patience.  
Impatience, why from Patience shouldst thou grow?  
Or why such sorrow raise from sweet content?  
From pleasure's spring, why should displeasure flow?  
Or our late joys turn to such sad lament?  
But that we see, as time to death is hasting,  
Nothing on earth is permanent and lasting  
Saving Impatience, sorrow and displeasure,  
Laments and strange disasters that still fall,  
The loss of solace, comfort and of treasure,  
And of these named this loss includeth all.  
A loss indeed this Grizels loss implies,  
Since here with her all woman's patience lies.   

An Epitaph upon a virtuous young Gentlewoman, who after seven year's marriage expired.  
Well born, well bread, brought up with cost and care,  
Sweet Infant, hopeful child, and virgin chaste.  
Marriage which makes up women, made her rare,  
Matron and maid, with all choice virtues graced,  
Loving and loved of all (her husband chief)  
Lived to our great joy, died to all our grief.   

Upon a Toomb-stone which covereth the body of a worthy Citizen, on which is engraven a white hand pointing to a Star.  
Pure Heart, white hand, one shadowed, th'other seen,  
●oints to a Star, to show what both have been.  
The Heart devout: in life a constant giver,  
The Hand that gift, as ready to deliver,  
● such alternate goodness, both agreeing,  
●s seldom to be matched when they had being.  
The Heart bequeathed, the Hand did still bestow,  
●oth reap in Heaven, what they on earth did sow.   

Funeral Elegy upon the death of Mistress Mary Littleboyes, Daughter to Master George Littleboyes of Ashburnham in Sussex, Esquire.  
●e was a virgin tall, as towards Heaven growing,  
●ho had she by Emergent Venus stood,  
●er dewy locks about her shoulders flowing,  
●nd Cupid viewed them both at once) He wooed  
Not able to distinguish one from the other)  
●ave leapt into her lap, there toyde and played,  
●●d (though a maid) mistook her for his mother.  
affair she was; But thus all beauties fade.  
● the choice virtues, moral and divine,  
●hat ever graced the sex, comprised in one,  
Did in her fair breast mutually combine,  
And where shall they found harbour now she's go?  
Whom heaven did love, who merited man's praise,  
Modest, wise, pious, charitable, chaste,  
Whose virtues did in number pass her days,  
Now (woe the while) in darkness sleeps her last.  
Well born, well bread, brought up with cost and care,  
Of singular parts; the sole admired 'amongst many,  
In all her graceful carriage, choice and rare.  
But what of these? we see death spares not any.  
Besides all other rich decorements she  
So sweetly sung, her voice did rapture breed,  
Not springtide bird to her compared might be,  
Who Orpheus did, and Thamiras exceed.  
And what's of rare remark; even all that day,  
(The saddest to her friends that ever came)  
When she (sweet soul) upon her deathbed lay,  
She to choice musical notes her voice did frame.  
Her Funeral Dirge the dying Swan so sings,  
Than Angels waited to make up the Guire,  
And bear her soul on their celestial wings,  
Unto that place she living did desire.  
Were all the pens of Poets joined in one,  
Dipped in like Ink, and sworn, to writ her true;  
Let them spend all their spirits on her alone,  
Yet can they not ascribe to her her due.  
Apollo writ thyself, for this doth ask  
Not human skill, to give her merited praise.  
Thy Daphne dead, now take in hand this task,  
Do't as it aught, and ever wear thy bays.   

The Inscription upon her Tombstone lying in Clerkenwell Church.  
Hereunder lies a Casket, that contained  
A life unspotted, and a soul unstained,  
A virgin chaste, beyond example fair,  
●or outward gifts remarked, for inward, rare,  
Of nature's pieces, one the prime and choice,  
●o nurtured, that for needle, book and voice  
●re was unpeered: matchless in mind and face,  
●nd all the virtues that her sex most grace.  
●ho after twenty years scarce fully expired,  
arrived at that safe port she most desired:  
● life, to friends and parents fresh joys bringing:  
● death; to God sweet Halelujaes' singing.  
Obijt Die Mart. 8. Anno Aetat. 20. An. salutis. 1636.    

Epithalamiums or Nuptial Songs.  

An Epithalamion or Nuptial Song upon a you sweet virtuous Gentlewoman. F. L.  
An Acrostic upon her name.  
Flame Hymen's torch with lustre clear and bright,  
Rare stars break from thee, such as still affright  
All cloudy Omen hence: may you appear  
Not aged to yourselves; though time each year  
Charge hours upon you, live together long,  
Ever (though old) still to each other young.  
Smile OH thou marriage Queen on this sweet pair  
Lucina when her throws of childbirth are,  
Offer thy best help; Issue procreate  
Numerous, and happy, free from all sad fate,  
Grow great, and good, and both these still ascending  
Ever to last, and never to have ending.   

Hymen's blessing upon the same.  
Faelice●ter & Amplius  
quos Irrupta tenet Copulae.  
I bring you Hymen's blessing, hearts entire,  
First warmed, than kindled at his holy fire.  
The Graecian Ladies kept these nights to mirth  
Sacred, and from their marriage, not their birth  
Counted their age; This knot so doubly tied  
May not disaster, or sad fate divide.  
May peace and love in all your looks be read,  
A plenteous table, and a fruitful bed  
Be never wanting, jealousy and strife  
Be fare exiled, that a contented life  
May sweeten all those hours that are t'ensue.  
And as your Parents now rejoice in you,  
May you in your blessed Issue, and spread name,  
That when to them I kindle a new flame,  
As at this feast, where like occasions meet,  
Both Sires and Grandsires may be proud to see't.  
And this to many generations prove,  
As the best first-fruits of true conjugal love.   

To a virtuous Gentlewoman at the parting from her own Father's house, to live with her husband at her Fathers-in-law.  
May it please you think I an the place which now  
You ready are to part from, which whilst you  
Were present, seemed a paradise, and full  
Of all delights, but now grown sad, and dull.  
Me thinks it stands, as by an Earthquake shaken,  
When it perceives it is by you forsaken,  
And though itself all mute and silent be,  
Think that it's Genius doth speak thus in me.  
Farewell sweet Lady; all the choice delights,  
The comforts of the day, the joy of nights,  
The friendly hours (the handmaids unto time.)  
The seasons: Winter, August, Summer, prime;  
●y day, the cheerful Sun; by night, the Moon,  
●eepe or awake, at midnight, or at noon,  
Protect you: All things hap to you well,  
●o please your eye, your ear, touch, taste, and smell.  
Where ever you walk, the air fresh breath bequeath you,  
The earth on which you tread, prove smooth beneath you.  
● stand, time stand still with you, or seem slow;  
● move, may Angels wheresoever you go  
attend you; or if sit; the chair to ease you  
●ove soft, as juno's throne. If ride, to please you  
●ay your Caroche wheels run as swift and fair,  
● Venus' Chariot mounted in the air.  
If lie to rest, than gently may ye sleep;  
Whom, He that made you sweet, as sweetly keep.  
Your dreams be such; that waking, you may say  
Darkness to me as pleasing was as day.  
So sleep, so wake, so walk, so ride, so rest,  
With all contentments, treasured in your breast,  
Till this sad house, which now you leave, to mourn,  
May be made joyful in your quick return.   

A nuptial song, devoted to the Celebration of a Marriage betwixt Master james, and Mistress An. W. An Acrostic.  
Illustrious Hymen, let this bridal feast  
Abound in plenty of all choice delights,  
Make it a lasting jubilee, not lest  
Ennobled by thee; all their tedious nights  
Shorten in pleasure; To their future days  
Add length and light without eclipse or cloud,  
Not unkind breath betwixt them tempest raise,  
Not word be herded too silent, or too loud.  
And when the full time of her Issue grows,  
(Which may they prove as numerous as blessed)  
Awake Lucina to her painful throws,  
And summon Juno to prepare her rest.  
Dispose their board, their bed; that they may found  
Each in their age, as in their youth like kind.   

A Song at their uprising.  
Pack clouds away, and welcome day,  
With night we banish sorrow:  
Sweet air blow soft, mount Larks aloft,  
To give my love good morrow.  
Wings from the wound to please her mind,  
Notes from the Lark I'll borrow:  
Bird prune thy wing, Nightingale sing,  
To give my love good morrow,  
To give my love good morrow,  
Notes from them both I'll borrow.  
Wake from thy nest Robin read breast,  
Sing birds in every furrow:  
●nd from each Bill let music shrill  
Give my fair love good morrow.  
blackbird and Thrush, in every bush,  
Stare, Linnet, and Cock-sparrow:  
●ou pretty Elves, among yourselves,  
Sing my fair love good morrow.  
To give my love good morrow,  
Sing Birds in every furrow.   

● Anagram upon the name of the right honourable Sir Thomas Coventry, Lord Keeper of the great Seal, etc.  
THOMAS COVENTRY.  
To charm out sin.  

An Acrostic upon the Anagram.  
●o charm out sin, to you the power is given,  
●aving your Caducaeus lent from heaven;  
● may your Mace, the Emblem of that power  
●akes good, and great: even to your latest hour  
●ble them both in you: May you appear  
●till Pilot to that Helm, which you now steer.  
conscience your Court; in constancy persever,  
●pposing what you have affronted ever,  
●yce, howsoe're disguised in virtues weeds.  
●nd as you have begun: so shall your deeds  
●ot unremembered in the grave forsake you,  
●ime (here so spent) shall there immortal make you.  
recorded it shall be what you have been,  
● our justice being made To charm out sin.    

Another of the same.  
THOMAS COVENTRY.  
OH Hie constant Mure.  

An Acrostic upon the Anagram.  
The Hie and constant Mure gird you about,  
Hedging your person in, from all detraction.  
Open you lie not to the vulgar rout,  
Maligning goodness, and inclined to faction.  
AFort you are, built on the Rock, not Sand,  
Stable, all storms of envy to withstand.  
Continued in your justice, mercy, piety,  
Oppression and extortion still keep under,  
Virtue, in which man comes most near a Deity,  
(Excellent Sir) shall your best merits wonder.  
Never shall your uprightness be forgot;  
Never; a conscience so unstained and pure  
Time shall to Lethe leave, or scandal spot.  
Remain it shall, whilst Moon or Stars endure,  
You guarded still, with an Hie constant Mure.    

Of the right Honourable Sir Henry Carey, Lord Hunsden, Earl of Dover, etc.  
HENRY CAREY: The Anagram. Rain Rich. An Acrostic upon the Anagram.  
Honoured Sir, If content a Kingdom be,  
Ever reign rich, graced with that inward crown,  
None is (than you) in true nobility  
Richer; in virtue, issue, or renown,  
You need not fear fortunes inconstant frown.  
Conscience unstained, justice, integrity  
A bond in you, by all which you are known.  
Remarked you are for your sincerity,  
Ennobled Sir, and in your blessed posterity  
You shall reign rich, still making these your own.   

Of Sir Ranoulphe Crewe, once Lord Chief justice of England.  
The Anagram. Now Helper, Crave. An Acrostic upon the Anagram.  
Rare 'tis such as have helped, now help to crave,  
A precedent of this, in you we have,  
None ever in your place of justice sat,  
Or graver, or more wise to arbitrate,  
Vows you have kept made to the judge on high,  
Lystned, (as he doth) to the poor man's cry,  
Protecting Widows, Orphans, and indeed,  
Helping all such as did your justice need.  
Eminent Sir, your virtues are your shield,  
Conquering base envy who hath lost the field,  
Reproached, for so maligning your renown,  
Eternity shall all your actions crown,  
Whilst those that sought your goodness to deprave,  
Ever shall need your helping hand to crave.   

Of the most excellent Lady, the Lady Anna Car, sole daughter to the right Honourable Robert Earl of Somerset, Knight of the Garter, etc,  
ROBERT ANNA CAR.  
The Anagram, Rarer cannot bear.  

An Acrostic upon the Anagram.  
Rarer than you either for breast or brain,  
OH can the earth bear? or shall it again  
●ud a more hopeful bloom? with this new year  
Entering, by Janus leave, may you appear  
● are Lady like bright Cynthia in her Car,  
That's always seen with some conspicuous star.  
Amply, Heaven hath endowed you for a Bride,  
None of your age more nobly qualifide.  
None (than yourself) more virtuous, chaste and fair,  
And therefore worthy to be counted rare.  
Challenge you may among the virtue's place,  
And to the former three, add a fourth grace.  
Raptur'd I an, and I presume, jove would  
Rain in your lap, a liquid shower of Gold  
Even now: did he your sweet aspect behold.    

Of that worthy and most religious Knight, Sir Paul Pindar. His Anagram.  
Prayer in 
* D. divus vel Sanctus.  D. Paul's.  

An Acrostic upon the Anagram.  
Sir Paul, of all that ever boar that name,  
You to Saint Paul most dear are, and may claim  
Rare privilege; (I might say) above all  
Priority, that bear the name of Paul  
A course like yours, how to continued prayers  
Unto succession, who hath left his heirs?  
Let this your piety proceed to 'th' full,  
Pursue your good work, and bring on the dull  
Insensible gross Earthworms, such as prize  
Not god but gold, nor will be heavenly wise.  
Dedicated on; make others like sincere,  
A noble precedent you shall appear,  
Read, whilst old janus ushers the new year.   

A Distich.  
Saint Paul, Sir Paul, both travelled: one with care  
To build Christ's Church: Paul's the other to repair.     

EPIGRAMS.  

Epig. ex THEOD. BEZA.  

1. To his Library having been sometime absent thence.  
Salvete incolumes mei Libelli,  
Meae deliciae, mei lepores, etc.  
Hail to my books safe and in sight.  
You, all my mirth; my choice delight.  
My Cicero and Pliny's both,  
All hail to you; whom I was loathe  
To leave one minute: Cato, Columel,  
My Varro, Livy, all are well.  
Hail to my Plautus, Terence too,  
And Ovid say, how dost thou do?  
My Fabius, my Propertius,  
And those not least beloved of us,  
Greek Authors, exquisite all o'er,  
And whom I should have named before,  
Because of their Cothurnat strain,  
And Homer than, whom not in vain,  
The people styled great: next I see  
My Aristotle, hail to thee  
Plato, Tymaus, and the rest  
Of you who cannot be expressed  
In a phaleucik number; all,  
Hail to my Books in general  
Again, and thrice, again all hail,  
And may my prayer thus far prevail,  
OH you my best loved books I pray,  
(For I have been six days away)  
My absence ye will not distaste,  
But with this love I left you last  
You will receive me, which I vow,  
Was fervent and sincere to you,  
And if you grant this small request,  
I further unto you protest,  
Henceforth from you I'll be away  
Not week, not week said I? not day,  
Not day? not hour shall lose my care,  
Not minutes space that I can spare.   

2. Of Erasmus, pictured but from the girdle upwards.  
Ingens ingentem, quem personat orbis, Erasmum,  
Haec tibi dimidium picta tabella refert, etc.  
This painted table to thy view,  
But half Erasmus lends.  
Of great Erasmus, whose loud fame  
Through the great world extends,  
But why not his whole portraiture?  
Cease Reader to complain,  
He was so great that the vast earth  
His fame cannot contain.   

3. Of Lucrece.  
Si fuit ille tibi Lucretia, gratus adulter,  
Immerito merita praemia morte petis, etc.  
If to thy bed the adulterer welcome came,  
OH Lucrece, than thy death deserves not fame.  
If force were offered, give true reason why,  
Being clear thyselfe thou for his fault wouldst die?  
Therefore in vain thou seekest thy fame to cherish,  
Since mad thou fall'st, or for thy sin dost perish.   

4. Upon the Venetian History written by Petrus Bembus.  
Clarae urbi Venetum, Debes natalia Bembe,  
urbs eadem clara est munere Bembe tuo.  
OH Bembus Venice in thy birth is famed,  
And in thy worth the City's worth proclaimed,  
Thou-babes happy in that City, and again,  
It happy to have thee a Citizen;  
Yet thou OH Bembus by thy learned book,  
Gav'st back more to it, than from it thou taken.  
What thou receiv'st, was mortal, and must die;  
What thou returnest, shall live eternally.   

5. Of Helionora the French Queen.  
Nil Helena vidit Phoebus formosius una,  
Te regina nihil pulchrius orbis habet.  
Than Helen Phoebus could not rarer view,  
Nor all the world a fairer yield than you.  
Both beautiful! yet you in this excel;  
She brought dissension, discord you expel.   

6. Of johannes Secundus an excellent Poet of the Hage in Holland.  
Excelsum seu condis opus magnique Maronis,  
luminibus offer studes, etc.  
If an high work thou undertakest; to rise  
In Virgil's strain, and look out with his eyes;  
Or if light Elegies art pleased to sing,  
Such as from Ovid's vein were known to spring;  
If to the ly'r of Pindarus thou fit  
Thy various notes, to make him blush at it;  
If thou make Belbulus his brows contort,  
To see how he in Epigrams can sport;  
These four thou shalt excel: even thou alone  
Secundus, who art second unto none.   

7. Against Philenus who carped at Erasmus.  
Erasmus ille, quo fatentur plurimi,  
Nihil fuisse nec futurum doctius, etc.  
Erasmus whom as many say,  
None shall or hath been to this day  
Moore learned: yet to thee thou gull,  
Most stupid he appears and dull,  
And what aspersions thou canst frame  
To calumnise his noble name,  
By thee or others are collected,  
In hope to make him disrespected.  
Bark still Philenus with the rest,  
Since 'tis apparent to the best,  
That learned Erasmus much more known,  
Than is unknown to all of you.   

8. To Lodovick Masurus of his verses made of the fall of Babylon.  
Dum Masuri rudiore tonas Babylona ruentem, Cantata est quanta Troja nec ipsa tuba, etc.  
Whilst Masurus thou with a louder tongue  
Soundest Babel's fall, than ever Troyes was song,  
Thou-babes hast given cause Homer should thee envy,  
Or Maro (greater) that thou writ'st so hie,  
Yet Masurus one error may be found  
In thy brave work for all its stentours sound,  
That in so great a verse thy fame pursuing  
Thou-babes buildest for ever what thou strivest to ruin.   

9 Upon three the most excellent Divines of France than living.  
Gallica mirata est Calvinum ecclesia nuper quo nemo docuit doctius, etc.  
The Church of France, late Calvin did admire,  
Than whom not one more learned could teach.  
Turellus, who to thunder did aspire,  
Than whom none could more strongly preach.  
The Honey tongud Viretus, He who still  
Nothing save sweetness doth deliver.  
France, thou by these mayst saved be if thou will,  
Or else be lost for ever.   

10. A comparison betwixt Poets and Monks.  
Accipe Francisco cur componamus Homerum,  
Et Monachos, credo vatibus esse pares, etc.  
Receive, why the Franciscan I compare  
To Homer: and think Monks and Poets are  
Both like. Francis (we read of old) was blind,  
And so was Homer, as we written found;  
He of his eyes, the other in his mind.  
A beggar Francis was, Homer was poor,  
And both sung Hymns at every rich man's door.  
The vast world both their rhapsodies admires,  
From the one's Poets, from the others Friars.  
Poets at first in remote woods did devil,  
The Monks at first chused out the Cave and Cell.  
The Woods forsook, the Monks themselves betake  
Unto the Towns, and Poets than forsake  
The Groves to live in Cities: Night and day  
The Poet sings, and so the Monk doth bray,  
And in their music both alike delight.  
The Muse the wanton Poet doth accite,  
To have his Cynthia, and the shaved Friar  
Not one alone, but many doth desire.  
With water if the Poet chance to meet  
In stead of Wine, his verse comes of unsweet.  
And if unto the Monk you water bring  
When he would drink, he will but sadly sing.  
The Poet when his Harpe's about him tide,  
His pleasant notes most sweetly will divide:  
And so the Monk too will sound nothing dull,  
When as the Flagon at his girdle's full.  
The one in an Atheists fury doth exclaim,  
The other an Enthean rapture doth inflame,  
And still the Thursian favour he doth wear,  
As the other crosses doth about him bear.  
The victor Poets Myrtles and Bays renown,  
And the Monks honour is his shaved crown.    

The excellent Poet George Buchanan, upon a Diamond cut like an Hart, and sent from Mary Queen of Scots, to the most excellent Lady Queen Elizabeth.  
Non me materies facit superbum,  
Quod ferro Insuperabilis quod igni, etc.  
Not that my substance neither can be bowed,  
Or flawed by fire or steel, doth make me proud,  
Nor clearness wanting stain, not that I still  
Shine with perspicuous light, not the Artists skill  
Who gave me form, and clothed me thus in gold,  
That I might seem more glorious to behold:  
But if in me appear the lest ostent,  
It is because I'm made to represent  
The heart of my sweet Mistress, and so near,  
That if the same Heart in her bosom were,  
With eyes to be surveyed, more constant none,  
Moore clear, more spotless could be looked upon,  
Both splendorous alike, and without stain,  
In all things equal, save there doth remain  
A difference in our hardness: but to me  
A second favour's lent, a hope to see  
Of you Heroic Lady, the bright face:  
Than which there cannot be a greater grace.  
Hope of which grace I almost was bereft,  
After I once had my dear mistress left.  
OH that my fate so much to me would deign,  
That I might in an adamantine chain  
Link your two hearts, in such a strong condition,  
As that not emulation, not suspicion,  
Nor spleen, nor age, nor hate, could break asunder,  
So should I of all stones be held the wonder.  
So I more blessed were than all stones by far,  
So I more bright were than all stones that are.  
So than all stones I were more dear indeed,  
As I in hardness do all stones exceed.   

Of Chrisalus.  
Flava Ceres longi spes interceperat amti,  
Aruerat pigro vin●● t●ll● gel●.  
Graine the long years hope in the ear doth pine,  
The tedious frost doth pinch thy forward cows:  
Rot kills thy sheep, thiefs steal thy goats; and now  
Thy labouring Oxen perish at the plow.  
Loss after loss when Chrisalus had found,  
And he himself unwilling to be found  
Alone: when his whole state was ceased, bethought  
To hung himself so he might do't for naught.  
But soon that purpose in his mind was lost,  
When he considered what a rope would cost,  
For he would die of freecost: he thinks than  
To kill himself with a sharp sword, but when  
He looked about and see none, nay says he,  
To buy a sword were too much charge for me.  
He than says to himself: doubtless that knave  
The Sexton expects something for my grave,  
And somewhat those that put me in my shroud,  
And somewhat must the bearers 'be allowed.  
The Priest, the candles, ringing of the bell:  
And prayers too, must cost somewhat I know well.  
Therefore to save all charges, this I say,  
●le drown myself, and that's the cheapest way.  
He did so, And thus speaking in his fall,  
●ee thus for nothing I discharge them all.   

In Romum.  
Non ego Romulea miror quòd pastor in urbe  
Sceptra gerat: pastor conditor urbin erat.  
● wonder not a Shepherd Rome should sway,  
● Shepherd Rome's foundation first did lay,  
My wonder is since, Romulus the first  
That reared the same, was by a she-wolf nursed,  
That even to these days as we plainly see,  
●o many raging Wolves in Rome should be.  
This only doth my admiration breed,  
A Wolf should keep the fold, and the sheep feed.   

An Epitaph upon jacobus Silvius.  
Silvius hic situs est gratis qui nil dedit unquam  
Mortuus, & gratis quod legis ista dolet.  
Here Silvius lies, who when he lived  
Gave nothing, and being dead,  
He yet laments, that what's written here,  
For nothing should be read.   

Ex Angelo Politiano. Epigram In Pamphilum.  
Mittis vina mihi, mihi Pamphile vina supersunt,  
Vis mage, quod placeat mittere? mitte sitim.  
Thou-babes send'st me wine OH Pamphilus.  
I had enough at first.  
Will't sand me what shall better please?  
Than prithee sand me thirst.   

Against Mabilius a bitter railing Poet.  
Ore tibi pauci, sed nulli in carmine dentes  
quum sint, atque illi sunt putridi & veteres, etc.  
There be but few teeth in thy jaws,  
But in thy verse are none,  
And those thou hast be rotten, or  
Their use by age is go.  
And though thou canst not by't at all,  
Yet bark thou dost mean space.  
Which shows thee (though in shape a man,)  
Yet of a dogged race.   

Ex Accij sinceri sannazarij Neopolitani viri patricij. Epigram. Of the admirable City Venice.  
Viderat Adriacis Venetam Neptunus in undis,  
Stare urbem & toto p●nere jura Mari, etc.  
Neptune in the Adriatic main see stand  
Venice whose power did all the Sea command,  
And says, now jove show thy Tarpeian Towers  
And walls of Mars, unto this scite, now ours.  
If thou before the mighty Ocean dare  
The petty River Tiber to compare,  
Behold both Cities there give up this doom,  
The Gods built Venice, Men erected Rome.   

Ex M. Anthonij Fla●●●inij. Epigram. Of Cardinal Pools Picture.  
Si velut egregia pictura maxim Pole,  
Est expressa tui corporis effigies, etc.  
Great Pool, as in that excellent Table we  
The picture of thy body plain may see,  
So could one paint the beauty of thy mind,  
Not rarer thing, we on the earth could found.   

Of a fair gilded Bowl sent unto him from Benedict Accoltus Cardinal.  
Hanc pateram Chio spumantem autoque nitentem  
Accoltus vati donat habere suo, etc.  
This golden Cup swelling with Chios juice,  
Given by Accoltus to his Poet's use,  
Part of this wine Bacchus to thee I sand,  
And part to thee Apollo, I commend.  
Now Muses take the Cup, and it brim-fill  
With Nectar, which may to my brain distil,  
That worthy thankss I may Accoltus give,  
In such high verse as may for ever live.   

Ex Mario Molsa. Of the City Rome being late wasted by the Germans.  
Flagrati cineres si nunc Catilina videret,  
Imperij & Latium consenuisse decus.  
The Empires burned ashes didst thou now behold  
OH Catiline, and her glory waxed so old,  
The Capitol, and high Tarpeian spires,  
Couldst thou but view defaced by foreign fires,  
Now covered in long ruins, thou wouldst run,  
And loudly cry, This by the gods was done.  
For among mortal men, what's he once dared  
Do this to Rome, which I had menaced first?  
OH how much better had it been that I  
Had been the cause of all thy misery!  
Whilst buried Rome from darkness thou dost strive  
To raise (OH Blondus) and keep still alive  
Dead Romulus and Remus: by thy wit,  
They a rude City did erect, but it  
Thy labour hath rebuilt, making it shine  
So to the world, 'tis almost held divine.  
And though the barbarous Foe it overthrew,  
Thy lasting verse, hath still repaired it new.  
A Tomb to thee, triumphant Rome did give,  
That it to thee, and thou to it mayst live.   

Ex Antonio Titaldeo. An Epitath upon Joannes Mirandula.  
joannes jacet hic Mirandula, caeter● norunt.  
Et Tagus & Ganges, forsan & Antipodes.  
Mirandula here tombed lies;  
Wouldst thou know more? ask these,  
Tagus and Ganges best knows, and  
Perhaps the Antipodes.   

Ex Benedicti Theocreni. Epigram. Upon a Comet which Lewes of Savoy see a little before his death.  
In festum sibi cum sciret Ludovica Cometam,  
Seque peti: Illius crinibus horrificis, etc.  
A bearded star when Lewes did espy,  
With horrible aspect his life to threat,  
Lo here, a Torch says he that from on high  
Lights me to heaven, (his spirit was so great.   

Ex Joanne secundo Hagiensi. Of one Charinus who had married a deformed wife.  
Nuper Charine conjugem,  
Vidi tuam, tam candidam, etc.  
Charinus I beheld of late,  
Thy wife so sweet, so delicate,  
So fair, so chaste, so neat, so fine,  
That almost I could wish her mine.  
And if great jove would give me three,  
In all respects but such as she  
I two would unto Pluto grant,  
To take away that paravant.   

Ex Henrici Stephani Epigram. Of Phillis who was delivered within five months after her marriage.  
Ante legitimum statumque tempus,  
Cum puerpera facta Phillis est.  
Phillis late married as 'tis said,  
Before her time was brought a bed;  
The noise of which, (to her disgrace)  
Was spoken of in every place.  
Which brought to her by one she known,  
Who told her how such rumour grew,  
She smiled, and thus excused the crime,  
The vulgar mis-compute the time:  
Nine months I know they will allow  
A teeming woman, and I now  
Exceed that limit; Five months he  
'tis well known, hath been wed to me,  
●o five months I to him have been  
●n wedlock joined, than where's the sin?  
Add five months unto five, and than  
Who knows not but they make up ten?   

Upon Pompe's death.  
Dux Pharia quamvis jacu Inhumatus arena,  
Non ideo fati est saevior ira tui, etc.  
Though thou great Duke inhumed dost lie  
Upon the Pharian shore,  
Blame not the fates who thought thereby  
To honour thee the more.  
Unworthy was the earth thy bones,  
Which thou subdued by force;  
Only the Heavens, and they alone  
Were worthy of thy Corse.   

Ex joanne Colta. Of the City Verona.  
Verona, qui te vider it,  
Et non amârit protinus  
A more perditissimo, etc.  
Verona whatsoever he be,  
Who when he first shall look on thee,  
It doth not his affection move  
To dote on thee with perdit love,  
I think he not himself respects;  
And that he wants true loves affects,  
His senses are not in good state,  
Nay all the graces he doth hate.   

Ex Petro Bo●bo. An Epitaph upon one Thebaldaeus an excellent Musician.  
Qui ripis te saepe suis stupuere Canentom,  
Eridanus Tiberisque; parens ille, hic tuus Hospes, etc.  
Eridanus and Tiberis flood,  
Who when upon their banks thou stood,  
Admired thee singing (in one bread  
And by the other nursed and fed)  
Most credible it is that thou  
In the Elysian fields singest now,  
And makest such music with thy tongue,  
That all the Gods about thee throng.   

Ex Baltasser Castlli●ne. An Epitaph upon a Virgin whose name was Gratia.  
Siste viator, dumb proper as hoc aspice marmor,  
Et leg●, ni plores, tu quoque marmor eris, etc.  
Stay Traveller, and look upon  
This Marble ere thou part.  
Read here, and if thou droppest not tears,  
Thou-babes likewise marble art.  
Sweet Grace is dead, for cruel death  
Takes both the fair and wise,  
(Alas the while) and here beneath  
This stone, entombed lies,  
She both her sisters taken along,  
So that we now may say  
All the three graces in her death  
Did perish in one day.   

Ex Antonio Casanova. Of Lucrece.  
Dicite, cum melius cadere unte Lucretia posset,  
Cur potius voluit post scelus illa mori.  
Why Lucrece better might herself have slain  
Before the act, than after her black stain,  
Can any tell? not crime she did commit,  
For of all guile, her hand did her acquit.  
Her ravisher she slay by that brave stroke,  
And from her Country's neck taken of the yoke.  
From thy own hand thy death most willing came,  
To save thy Country, and preserve thy fame.    

In praise of Archery.  

BRave Archery what rapture shall I raise.  
In giving thee thy merit, and due praise?  
Divine thou art, as from the Gods begotten:  
Apollo with an arrow shot,  
And Cupid the fair Venus' son we know  
Is always figured with his shafts and Bow.  
The chaste Dlana with her Nymphs in chase,  
Will with not other arms their shoulders grace.  
A mighty Bow the great Alcides drawn,  
When he (to save his bride) the Centaur slay.  
It is the powerful hand of Heaven that bends  
The all-coloured Rainbow that so fare extends,  
Before the Tormentary art was found,  
The jarring string did make the dreadfulst sound.  
And that invulnered Greek unskard, by steel  
Was shot, and slain by Paris in the heel.  
The naked Indian doth on armour lack  
His bow being bend, and quiver at his back.  
And the wild Bohemian-tartar doth not danger fear,  
His arrow nockt, and string drawn to his ear.  
The Parthian in this practice hath such skill,  
That when he fly's he can shoot back and kill.  
For us; What foreign Chronicles, but sing  
Our honours purchased by the Gray-goose wing?  
Brave Cordelion with a feathered band  
Beaten the proud Sultan from the holy Landlord  
OH what an honour did the Black Prince gain,  
When he with English Archers conquered Spain!   

So ancient, so divine, so nobly famed;  
(Yet for the body's health there's nothing named.)  
It is an exercise (by proof) we see  
Whose practice doth with nature best agreed.  
Obstructions from the liver it prevents,  
Stretching the Nerves and Arty'rs gives extents  
To the spleens oppilations, clears the breast  
And spongy lungs: It is a foe professed  
To all consumptions: Moore, what need I name?  
The State approves it for a lawful game.  
What won our honour, is now made our sport,  
Witness Poicteirs, Cressy, and Agincourt.    

Upon a Book late published by one Bird a Coachman, called Birds business.  

Reader, who ere thou be'st; approach man,  
And hear the jornall of a Coachman,  
(In which he is not too prolix)  
Who with two Horses, four, or six,  
If let him have a good Postilion,  
Shall drive with any for a Million.   

We read in Stories long agone,  
That there was one Antomedon,  
Great Hector's Charioteer, Another  
Who of the same trade was a brother  
Whom Archeptolemus men name,  
And he, Achilles steeds did tame.  
These could their Horses turn, and wound,  
And check, and kerb them to their mind,  
Wheeling with many a strange Meander,  
In the most famous field Scamander.   

I wonder Homer was so rash  
To praise those expert in the lash,  
But he was ignorant and blind,  
Who known not Byrd should come behind.  
Who had he lived than; might King 〈◊〉  
Have served, or great Agamemnon,  
And taught their Palphreyes how to draw,  
But they alas to him were raw.  
I must confess they had the brains,  
In the day time to guide the reinss,  
And in plain ground to use the whip,  
And one another to outstrip.  
But this our Bird, although not Owl,  
His Horse is able to control,  
And them to govern I dare say,  
(And guide) as well by night as day,  
As in his travels may appear,  
Which largely are discoursed there.  
And though I know not how, or when,  
Yet all described by his own pen.  
In which to exceed so much he strives  
That whether he better writes or drives  
May well be questioned; Reader judge,  
Pay for thy Book, and do not grudge.  
And now if any question make  
In this work he did undertake,  
Why he in number or in rhyme,  
Should so much fail? observe the time  
And place withal, where these were written.  
And he not doubt will both remit.   

Neither doth it the Author, wrong,  
To make one verse short, the other long,  
As you may found often in his book,  
He suits them to the way he taken.  
If any line against his will  
Go lagging on: he driven up-hill.  
Again: If any pass it's length,  
Down hill he run, and had not strength,  
Though take unto him all his force,  
Either to stop it, or his horse.  
I will appeal to all who use  
The trade, and they will that excuse.   

When he was driving in even way,  
The verse runs smooth (perceive you may)  
But being rough, than think he feels  
Some deep foul slough to clog his wheels.  
Here in his praise my sail I strike,  
Let any Coachman do the like.    

Against a base and infamous Balladder, who dispersed a scandalous rhyming Libel, in which he maliciously traduced the noble exercises weekly practised in the Artillery Garden.  

What mightst thou be I wonder? whose bald rhyme  
Thus rails against the virtues of our time,  
Of what birth? name? what nation? what degree?  
Since thou concealest these from the world and me,  
I will inquire: well-bred thou art not sure;  
Not generous spirit could ever yet endure  
To hear a Soldier branded: Such love Arms,  
And grace the practice of our loud alarms,  
Our quick and active postures they admire,  
Which teach us when to charge, and when retire.  
This proves thee born out of some dunghill race,  
That ne'er dared look a Soldier in the face.  
Than of what name? Is't so dark and obscure,  
Or else so blurred, it dares not now endure  
The Sun and Day? but Owle-like is it go,  
And forfeited to night? or hast thou none?  
Or waste once good? let this afflict thee most,  
Thou-babes art half hanged, for thy good name is lost.   

Than of what Country? Didst thou never hear  
Of Talbot, Norris, Essex, Sidney, Vere?  
Or hast thou of our conquering Princes read,  
And dared affirm thou wert in England bread,  
Scotland or Ireland? Kingdoms, that still afford  
Arms Nursery, and Soldiers of the sword?  
Sure thou'rt not French; unless thou wert begotten  
In their disease, the pock●, and therefore not  
Sound in thy joints, and that's the cause, thou here  
Rail'st ''gainst these Arms thou hast not limbs to bear.   

Than from what Country, nation? from what strain  
Canst thou derive thy being? not from Spain,  
For all their pride's in Arms, a Soldier's name  
As the earth's glory, at which most they aim.   

To Italy for birthright shouldst thou fly,  
Caesar himself would give thee than the lie,  
With thousand valiant Romans, and all swear  
A Groom so base had never breeding there.  
So of all others; Nay thy impudent work  
Would blush the very person of a Turk.  
Their Bashaes' and their janissaries be  
Bold Leaders, and approved for Chivalree.   

Were not the Worthy's Soldiers? (worthless slave,)  
A title that antiquity first gave,  
To eternize them; and others to aspire  
To the like height; That we might ours admire,  
As former ages them: For thy degree  
I cannot think how I may censure thee.   

Art thou a Citizen? and canst repined  
At practice of such needful discipline?  
If so; thou art some bastard, and 'tis pity  
But all like thee were spewed out of the City.   

Thou-babes art not Scholar; Arts and Arms conspire.  
Scholar's praise Arms, we Soldiers Arts admire.  
Nay art thou Christian? that with rhymes so vain  
Dared task the divine Pulpit? OH profane  
And irreligious wretch: good subject? Not  
Such thou art not, whose obscene metres flow  
To'th jangling Music of each Fiddler's string,  
'Gainst that which Patrons Country, peace, and King.   

Since neither than good Subject, Christian; nor  
One that love's Arts; whom City doth abhor,  
And Country hath disclaimed, one whom not clime  
But is ashamed to challenge, whose base rhyme  
Hath forfeited his name, and obscure birth  
From every language, Nation, from all earth;  
I thus conclude. To which sound Drum and Fife  
He 'hath lost his name, why should he keep his life?   
FINIS.   


The ANNOTATIONS upon PROCUS and PUELLA.  
IN this Dialogue (to whose Author I an not able to give a meriting character) I presume there is nothing contained which doth deviate either from modesty or good manners. It is only a mere expression, of what is, or aught to be, betwixt a young man and a maid, in the initiating of their affection, the prosecution of their love, and the perfecting of their contract. Here is neither childish discourse, lose language, or any impertinency, which is not agreeable, with wholesome instance, and commendable example. For in all marriages there is to be observed, Parity in birth. For as Dion says: Disparity in Wedlock is a great enemy to love: than conformity in education, and lastly equality in state. The first begetteth acquaintance, the second confirmeth it, and for the last we read Euripides thus: women without dowry cannot claim the privilege to speak their own thoughts: And Menander says: That man is most unhappy who marrieth being poor, and raiseth his fortunes by a rich maid or widow. But howsoever marriage in itself is honourable: in so much that Homer informeth us, That the Ladies of Greece, used to count their years from the time of their Nuptials, not the day of their Nativity, as forgetting all the time of their virginity, and intimating, they were never to be said truly to live, till they came to that state, legally to lend life unto others, which was by lawful wedlock. Imagine than this our Pamphilus proved an happy husband, and Maria a fortunate wife: He a provident Father, and she the fruitful mother of a numerous and thriving issue. They blessed in their children, and their children alternatly in them: For so i● (for the most part) happeneth in all such contracts. Where virtue over-ruleth vanity, and reason swayeth passion and affection. Of him I may say with Boethius, lib. 2. Metr. 8.  
Hic & conjugij sacrum  
Castis nectit amoribus.  
With the sacred Nuptial tie,  
His chaste love did well comply.  
And to do her the best right I can, I make bold to borrow thus much from the Poet Statius, lib. Silvar. 5.  
Si Babylonis opes, Lydae si pondera gaza  
Indorumque dares, etc.  
If thou the Babylonian wealth shouldst proffer,  
Or rifle (for her) the rich Lydians coffer;  
The potent wealth couldst thou before her lay,  
From India brought; or that from Africa?  
Yet rather than transgress her nuptial vow,  
She would choose death not caring where, nor how.  Et quo non possum corpore, ment feror.  

Annotations upon the Dialogue of EARTH and AGE.  
(a) MEaning Io transformed into a Cow, by jupiter (who had before stuprated her) to conceal her from the jealousy of his wife juno: the whole story you may read in the Dialogue entitled jupiter and Io: she lived in the year of the world 2200. according to Hel.  
(b) The Sibyls were in number ten. Persica, Libyca, Delphica, Erithraea, Samia, Hellesponti●ca, Tiburtina, Albinces, 〈◊〉, Cumana: of these you may read Varro, Gellius, Augustin, Suidas, and Lactantius. And of the long life of Cumana, Virgil in his Aeneids.  
(c) Ascraean, so titled from Ascra a Town in Boetia, near unto the mount Helicon, where the famous Poet Hesiod was born, from which place he had the surname Ascraeus.  
((d)) King Cyrus, because he had a Steed whom he much loved, drowned in the river Ganges: to be revenged thereof, caused so many currents to be cut, that he dried the Channel.  
(e)) It hath reference to the great battle fought by Hannibal against the Romans near unto the Village Cannae, where he slay 80. thousand in that one conflict: from thence the people of Italy are called Cannenses.  
((f)) Concerning the History of Phaeton, and his sisters, I refer you to the reading of Ovid, where it is with great elegancy described. Metamorph.  
(g) You may read the like of Niobe the daughter of Tantalus, and wife to Pelops: who had six Sons, and six Daughters, all which Latona the mother to Apollo and Diana, (in whom are figured the Sun and the Moon) caused to be slain, for the pride of Niobe, who presumed to compare with her: for grief whereof she lost her speech, and remained stupid and without motion, which gave the Poet's occasion to feign that she was changed into a marble statue. Calvis. reporteth that she lived in the year of the world, 2240.  
(h) Eurydice was the wife of Orpheus, who flying from Aristheus who would have ravished her, was stung with a Serpent, of which she died. Orpheus taken his harp, And went to Hell for her, and by his excellent Music so far wrought with Pluto and Proserpina, that they suffered him to bear her thence, but upon condition, that he should not look backe upon her till he had passed the infernal shades, and came to the upper light, which through his over love he breaking, so lost her. The fable is thus moralliz'd, Eurydice signifies the soul of man, and Orpheus the body to which the soul is married. Aristaus is true happiness which would gladly ravish the soul, but she flying through grassy fields and meadows, is at length stung to death by a Serpent, that is, by the blandishments of immoderate pleasure: she than descends into Hell, which implies dull and deep melancholy, with the trouble of a perplexed conscience, where she is rescued by comfortable music. But so, that unless she submit herself to the rule of reason, she shall quickly fall again into the same agony: she lived in the year 1700. according to Natal Comes.  
(i) Astyanax was the Son of Hector and Andromache, who after the taking of Troy, was by the Grecians precipitated from an high tower and so slain.  
(k) Aegaeus was the Son of Neotune, and King of Athens, in whose reign King Minos of Crete to revenge the death of his Son Androgous, made most cruel war on the Athenians, forcing them yearly to sand seven Nobleman's Sons into Crete to be devoured by the monster Minotaurus. Three years this continued, and in the fourth the lot (among others fallen upon Theseus', the elect Son of the King, who being of a noble and heroic courage, put them in great hope that he was able to kill the monster: At his departure his father in joined him, that if the ship he went in returned prosperously he should set up a white flag in token of victory, and pluck down the black one which they than boar in sign of mourning. But after when Theseus by the counsel of Ardiane daughter to King Minos had overcome the monster, and with a clew of thread escaped the labyrinth, sailing homewards again with joy towards his Country, he forgot his father's commandment concerning the white flag. The old King much longing to see the safe return of his son, used every day to ascend an high promontory, which overlooked the Sea, to take view of all such ships as past that way, at length knowing his son's ship, and seeing the same sable flag in the top, with which they first launched from that shore, supposed he had been dead, and therefore surcharged with grief, cast himself headlong from the rock into the Sea, which was after called by his name Aegeum mare. He lived in the 48. year after Athens was first made a Kingdom; and in the year of the world 2680. about the time that Gideon judged Israel.  
(l) jocaste was the mother of Oedipus, who after her first husband's death married with him, being her own natural son, (but not knowing so much) by him she had Eteocles and Polynices, who in a single combat slay one another, and they also died miserably.  
(m) Dedalus was the son of Mition born in Athens, the most excellent Artificer of these times. He made the Labyrinth into which Minos put him, and his son Icarus, at length having got feathers and wax, he made thereof artificial wings for himself and his son, and so flew from Crete into Sardinia, and thence to Cuma, where he built a Temple to Apollo, but Icarus in the way soared so high, that the beams of the Sun, melted the wax, and his wings failing him, by that disaster he fallen into the Sea, from it hath still retained the name of Mare Icarium, the Icarian Sea, according to that of Ovid.  Icarus Icarijs nomina fecit aquis. 
(n) Progne was the daughter to King Pandion, who because her husband Tereus' King of Thrace, had ravished her sister Philomela, and after cut out her tongue, she having notice thereof, in a barbarous revenge, at a feast dedicated to Bacchus: slay her son Itis, and after dressed his limbs, and served them up to her husband's table, etc. She lived about the year of the world 2510. according to Helu.  
(o) Autonoe, was the daughter of Cadmus and Hermione, who much lamented the death of Actaeon.  
(p) Antigone, was daughter of Oedipus King of Thebes, who when her blind father was banished, taken upon her to lead him, and afterwards being at the burial of her two brothers Eteocles and Polynices with Argia, was slain by the command of King Creon, whose murder Theseus soon after revenged.  
(q) Colossae vel Colossis, was a town of Phrygia, near unto Laodicea, which was demolished by an earthquake in the time of Nero.  
(r) Memphis was built by King Ogdous, and taken name of his daughter (so called) it is a great and spacious City in Egypt, famous for the Pyramids and stately scpulchers of King there set up: it is at this day called Alcayrum, or Grand-Cayre.  
(s) Mausolus, was King of Caria, to whose memory his wife Artimesia reared a most sumptuous Tomb which was reckoned one of the seven wonders of the world, this Monument was reared in the year of the world 3590.  
(t) It hath reference to the stately Temple of Diana in the City of Ephesus: which was afterwards maliciously burned down by Herostratus.  
(v) Tarpeian alludeth to Tarpeia, a Vestal virgin in Rome, who covenanting with the Sabines their enemies, to betray the Capitol, for the bracelets they wore on their left arms, when they entered the City, and she stood ready to receive that which she had contracted for, in stead of their bracelets, they cast their Targets upon her, by which she was smothered and pressed to death: this happened in the year of the world 3205. The Tarpeian Mount was so called because she was there buried, and Jupiter was surnamed Tarpeius, because there worshipped.  
(w) By Getick weapons are meant these which the Getae used, a people of Scythia in Europe, Aelius Spartan. From them derives the Nation of the Goths, who after conquered Italy and Rome.  
(x) By Minerva's Altar, is intended that which stood in the Temple of Pallas within the City of Troy, where Achilles at his marriage to Polyxena daughter to King Priam and Hecuba was slain by Paris.  
(y) They were called Garamantes of Garamus, a King of Lybia, who built a City there, which he called after his own name: their Country lieth along by the bank of Numidia, in a tract of ground from the Atlantic Ocean, by the river Nilus. They were held in old time to be the farthest people Southward.  
(z) Theophilus Sauromat's are a Septentrional Nation which some Authors, as Ortelius and Scaliger held to be the inhabitants of Russia and Tartary.  
(a) Helena was in her Nonage first raped by Theseus before her marriage to Menclaus King of Sparta, and after by Paris ravished, and carried to Troy.  
(a) Atrides, were the two brothers, Agamemnon and Menelaus, so called from their father Atreus.  
(c) Alcinous was King of the Phoeacians, and lived in Corcyra, who much delighted in Orchards and Gardens. (d) The Swans are called Caistrian birds, from the river Caister, where they are said to breed in great number.  
(e) Penelope the wife of Ulysses, famous for her beauty and constancy.  
(f) Dido was otherwise called Elisa, the daughter of Belus King of Tyre, and espoused to Sychaeus, one of Hercules Priests, whom her brother Pygmalion slew for his wealth, she after built the famous City Carthage, and in the end (as Virgil relates) killed herself for the love of Aeneas.  
(g) Leucades two beautiful sisters, rapt by the two famous brothers Castor and Pollux, the sons of Laed● the mother of Helen, who was compressed by Jupiter.  
(h) Cato, for his austerity called Censorius.  
(i) Hippolytus, the son of Theseus and Hyppolita the Amazon, who when his father was abroad, his stepmother Phaedra solicited him to incestuou love, which he refusing, she accused him to his father that he would have forced her, but when he perceived him to give credit to her false information, he taken his Chariot and horses to fly his fury, but by the way his steeds being frighted with Sea-calves, run with him to the mountains, and dashed the Coach in pieces, and him also, he lived in the year of the world, 2743.  
(k) The Dryads were Nymphae, or Sylvarum Dea, that is Wood-fayries or Druids.  
(l) Croesus a rich King of Lydia.  
(m) Crassus surnamed Marcus, therichest man among the Romans, who held not man worthy to be called rich, who could not within his yearly revenue maintain an Army: he was extremely covetous, and managed war against the Parthians, by whom, both he and thirty thousand Romans were slain, and because the barbarous enemy conjectured that he made an assault upon them for their gold: therefore they melted a great quantity, and poured it into his dead body, to sat him with that, with which in his life time; he could never be satisfied. He lived in the year of Rome's foundation 693. and before the Incarnation 57  
(n) Midas, a rich King of Phrygia who asked of Bacchus whom he feasted, that whatsoever he touched might be turned into gold, etc. He lived in the year of the world 2648. about the time that Deborah judged Israel.  
(o) Priam King of Troy potent in wealth, and strength, but after slain, and his City utterly subverted by the Grecians.  
(p) Pygmalion, an avaricious King (before spoken of) brother to Queen Dido.  
(q) Catiline, a seditious Conspiratour of Rome whose plots were brought to light by Marc Cicero than Consul of Rome with Antonius.  
(r) Marius, one that was seven times Consul of Rome, and after much pestered the City, by the division betwixt him and Sylla: He lived the year before the Incarnation 65.  
(s) Mezentius, was King of the Tyrenians, remembered by Virgil in his Aeneids, to be a great contemner of the gods.  
(t) Calpe, is one of the hills in Spain, called Hercules Pillars.   

Illustrations upon Timon Misanthropos.  
(a) SAlmoneus, was said to be the son of Aeolus, not he whom the Poets feign to be the god of the winds, but one of that name, who reigned in the City of Elis in Greece. He willing to appear unto his subjects to be a God, and not man, and so to assume unto himself divine adoration, made a bridge of brass over a great part of the City, over which he used to hurry his Chariot, whose wheels were shod with rough iron, thinking thereby to imitate Jove's thunder, for which insolence, jupiter being justly incensed against him, struck him with a true thunderbolt, and sent him quick to hell. A type of pride, justly punished.  
(b) Mandragora, an herb so called, because it bears Apples sweet smelling, of an extraordinary greatness, the Latins call it Malum terrae, id est, the Apple of the earth It is that which we call the Mandrake.  
(c) Deucalion, was the son of Prometheus, and married Pyrrha the daughter of Epimetheus. Whilst he reigned in Thessaly came the universal Deluge, which drowned all the world, only he and his wife, got into a ship and saved themselves: their vessel first touching on the hill Parnassus, where the dry land first appeared, which was merely a fiction of the Poets, who had herded or read of the general Innundation, in him figuring Noah and his Ark. Others think that this flood happened only in Greece and Italy, and that in the year of the world 2440. after Noah's flood 744.  
(d) Lycoris Mount, by which Lucian intends not other than the two topped Parnassus, before spoken of.  
(e) Epimenides, was a Poet of Crect, whom Saint Paul in his Epistle (as Beza is of opinion) cited. It is reported of him, that his father sending him into the field to keep his Cattles, by chance he light into a Cave where he slept 75. years, whence a Proverb against all slothful men grew, Vltra Epimenidis somnum dormisti, id est, Thou-babes hast slept beyond the sleep of Epimenides. At his return he found his brother a very old man, by whom he understood, all that happened in his absence, and was after worshipped as a god. He lived in the year of the world 3370. much about the time of the destruction of H●erusalem, etc.  
(f) Cibels Priests, they were called Corybantes, of one Corybantus, the prime of her first attendants. They in all the celebrations of her feasts, used to dance madly, beating upon brazen Cymbals, making a confused noise, from whence such Instruments were called, Aera Corybantia: when they danced about the streets their custom was to beg money of the people, from whence they taken the denomination of Collectores Cibeles', or Circulatores, id est. jugglers': these first inhabited the mount Ida in Phrygia etc.  
(g) Phineus, was a King of Arcadia, and the Harpia were the daughters of Pontus and Terra, dwelling in Lands, partly by Sea, partly by land, so called, â rapiende, or ravening: they are feigned to be fowls, with faces like virgins, and hands like talons or claws. Some call them jupiters' dogs: and these, whatsoever the forenamed King provided to eat, snatched from his table, and greedily devoured: they were after destroyed by Hercules.  
(h) Tantalus, was the son of Jupiter and Plota, the Nymph, grandfather to Agamemnon, and Menelaus, who entertaining certain of the gods at a banquet, to make trial of their divinity, killed, dressed, and served his son Pelops at the feast; which fact, the gods after they had discovered, so abhorred, that for the loathsome banquet he made them, they provided him another as distasteful, for being confined to hell, they set him in water up to the chin, and ripe Apples above his head touching his lips, yet gave him not power to stoop to the one to quench his thirst, nor reach to the other, to satisfy his hungry appetite. But for Pelops his son, so miserably massacred, jupiter revived him, and for his shoulder which Ceres unadvisedly had eaten up, he made him one of Ivory; who after this went and sojourned with Oenomaus the father of Meleager, and Deianira, which as Helu. re'ports, was about the year of the world 2650.  
(i) Danaus' daughters: This Danaus was a King of the Argives, and dwelled in the City Argus. He called the Country, formerly called Achaia, Danaae, and the general Nation of the Grecians, Danai. He had fifty daughters, whom he caused to slay in one night the fifty sons of his brother Aegyptus, to whom they were wedded, for which theywere punished by the gods with a perpetual I torment, namely that with bottomless pales, they were to fill a ton without a bottom. They lived in the year of the world, 2510.  
(k) Cyclopes, they were so called because they had but one eye, and that was orbicular and round, they were Vulcan's ministers, and forged or framed his thunderbolts, there are three among them themost eminent, according to the Poets, namely, Brontis, Sterope, and Pirachmon, they were mighty great men, and called Giants, etc.  
(l) Dis, is the god Pluto, who takes that denomination â divitijs, of richeses, because they are digged and torn from the bowels of lower parts of the earth.  
(m) These names, Pythias, Dromus, Tibias, Hyperbolus, and the like, are given according to the Authors fancy, or perhaps aiming at some particular men of like condition than living.  
(n) Nireus, a fair young man, whom Homer loved, and whose beauty he much extolled.  
(o) Cecrops, was also called Biformis; he was the first King of Athens, and first invented among them marriage; he found out Images, builded Altars, and offered Sacrifices among the Greeks'. He erected the City of Athens, and called it after his own name Cecropia, he flourished in the year of the world 2394. soon after the birth of Moses.  
(p) Dithy●ams, were songs sung in honour of Bacchus.  
(q) Areopagitas. judges or Senators among the Athernians, so called of the place where they sat.  
(r) Erictbeides, whom some think to be Ericthonius, or Ericthaeus, the fourth King of Athens; he first found one the use of Coaches, because his feet were deformed. His lived in the year of the world 2463. about eleven year after Israel's departure out of Egypt.   

Annotations upon Nireus, Thersites, etc.  
(a) NIreus was a young man among the Greeks' who came to the wars of Troy, whose beauty and feature Homer in his Iliads mightily commended: to whom I refer such as desire to be more fully satisfied of him.  
(b) Thersites, a mishapen and deformed Captain in the Graecian Host, as crooked in mind as body, who bitterly railing against Achilles, he being mightily enraged against him, slew him with a blow under the ear; his deformity was so great, that from thence arose a Proverb which hath continued even to this day, Thersite foedior, aspersed upon any stigmatick, and crooked fellow; you shall read him fully described and charactered by Homer in his first and second book of Iliads.  
(c) Menippus was a Poet, and master to Cicero the famous Orator: but by this personated by Lucian, is intended a Cynic Philosopher, dogged both in his behaviour and writings, in imitation of whom, Varro the Orator written a Satyr, and entitled it Satyra Menippea. It is reported of him, that such money as he had hoarded together by usury and the like fordid means, was so dear unto him, that being rob thereof, he grew into despair, and miserably hanged himself. His whole life you may read described at large by Diogenes L●●rtius.   

Annotations upon jupiter and Io.  
(a) Spaerchius', a River whose banks were round beset with Poplar trees, and therefore called Popuifer, Enipoeus, Apidanus, Amphisus, and Aeas, etc. only the names of Rivers, whose currents and channels were famous in those parts of Greece: for your better satisfaction, I refer you to Ovid his Metamorph. lib. 1. upon the same argument.  
(b) Pindus, was a mountain in Thessaly, sacred to Apollo and the Muses, etc.  
(c) Hemonian Tempe, Tempe was a pleasant valley flourishing with trees, herbs, and flowers, situate in Thessaly at the foot of the hill Hemus. It was much celebrated by the Muses, as lying betwixt Ossa and Olympus. The River Peneus, Larisa, and the Aegean Sea, etc.  
(d) Naiades, were Nymphs or Fairies of the wells, and fountains.  
(e) Pierides, were the Muses, so called from Pierus, or else a mountain in Greece of that name: this Pierus had nine daughters, who contended with the Muses in singing, and being vanquished by them, were transformed into chattering Pies: in glory of which victory the Muses would be called by their names.  
(f) Syrinx, an Arcadian Nymph, who flying from the embraces of Pan, the god of the Shepherds, at her intercession to the gods changed into a Reed, her prayer being to preserve her virginity.  
(g) Styx, a certain well in Arcadia, the water of which is so cold and venomous, that whosoever drinketh thereof, immediately dyeth. It eateth and wastes iron or brass, neither can it be contained in any thing, but the hoof of a Mule; some say Alexander the Great was poisoned with the water of this river, by Antipater, at the persuasion of Aristotle, the great Philosopher, and Tutor to Alexander. The Poets feign it to be a river in hell, and so sacred to the gods, that if any of them swear by it, and break his oath, he shall be deprived of his god head, and drink not Nectar for an hundred years after.   

Annotations upon the Dialogue  
Entitled jupiter and Cupid.  
(a) GArgarus, so called of Gargarus, the son of Jupiter, it is commonly taken for the top or Apex of the high hill Ida, where the said god had an Altar consecrateunto him, it is situate betwixt the ●ropontis Abydos, and the Hellespont in Greece, in longitude 55. in latitude 42. It is also a town under the hill so called.   

Upon Mercury and Maia.  
(a) ALcmena, the wife of Amphytrio the Theban, in whose absence jupiter came in the shape of her husband, compressed her and begotten Hercules.  
(b) Semele, the mother of Bacchus, begotten on her by jupiter, from whence he taken the denomination of Semeleius'.  
(c) Maia, the daughter of Atlas, and Pleiones, and therefore Atlantiades, of whom jupiter begotten Mercury.  
((d)) By Cadmus' fair daughter is intended Semele before spoken of.   

Upon Crates and Diogenes.  
(a) MOcricus, Aristaeus, Thrasicles, etc. are names of men whom the Author aimed at (living in those times) according to his fancy.  
(b) IApygium, or japyges, these derived their names from ●apyx the son of Dedalus, and were said to be Cretenses by their original, and wand'ring abroad to seek C●laurus, son of Min●is, came unto the same place, where after they inhabited, these in time grew to such a profuse riotise, intemperance and wantonness, that forgetting their Country modesty and honesty, they painted their faces, and wore other folk's hair, and were never seen abroad but sumptuously, and richly apparelled; their houses were as beautiful as the Temples of the gods. At length they came to such a height of pride and insolence, that they cast of all religion, entering and seizing on the ornaments, revenues and donaries of the Churches. And at length were all consumed by fiery globes falling from heaven, etc.   

Upon Menippus, Aeacus, Pythagoras.  
(a) EVphorbus, was a noble Trojane, the son of Panthus, who wounded Patroclus, and was after slain by Achilles, being hurt in the thigh; he was said to have one made him of gold. Pythagoras' said, that his soul was in him in that time of the Trojan war, that he might better persuade his Scholars. Concerning the opinion which he held concerning the transmigration of man's souls, from one body to another.   

What other difficulties you shall find in these short Dialogues, you shall found in some or other fully explicated.  
(a) CImmerians, were people dwelling in Italy, between the Baiae and Cumae, so environed with hills, that the Sun never appeared unto them, hence came the Proverb Tene●ra Cimmeria, the Cimmerian darkness.  
(b) Erix, Promontory: Erix was the son of Venus, slain by Hercules, and buried in a mountain of Cicilia, so called after him, in which place Venus had a Temple erected unto her, and from that she had the denomination of Eriana, etc.  
(c) Python, was a mighty hugé Serpent, which juno sent unto Latona when she was with child by jupiter, to devour her, but she went to her sister Astrea, who protected her, and she was after delivered of two twins, Apollo and Diana.  
(d) Endymion, was beloved by the Moon, who courted him upon Latmus' hill; and therefore said to look pale by reason of the great affection which she boar unto him.  
(e) Tithon, or Tithonus, was the son of Laomedon, who desiring long life, was so wasted with old age, that the Poets feigned him to be turned into a Grasshopper: he was also said to be beloved of Aurora, the mornings because he used to rise early, which was thought to be the reason why he preserved his life so long.    

I conclude this Work, suiting with the present, concerning the worth of Physic, and Physicians, deriving my precedent from a worthy Gentleman called M. Perisaulus Faustinus.  

THere is a gift that's sacred, lent to man  
By God and Nature, by which Art he can  
Of all diseases know the perfect ground,  
And tender the crazed body, whole and sound.  
If this Art please thee than, whose height to gain  
Must be the labour of a polished brain;  
Thou-babes into Nature's secrets must inquire,  
And (fare as human wisdom can) aspire.  
From best approved Authors seek direction,  
Till thou into all medicines hast inspection:  
And when thou shalt be frequent in all these,  
Thou-babes shalt be held a new Hypocrates,  
Exceed Machaon, and Phillerides,  
With the Epidaurian, godlike skill impart,  
And bright Apollo, Patron of that Art  
Thou-babes shalt be health to Nations, people save,  
And such as are expired, keep from grave.  
To animate the dead thou shalt have skill,  
'tis at thy pleasure whom to save or kill:  
Hence shall great sums of wealth to thee arise,  
With fame, and honour, such as never dies.   

But as we see in divers flowers and weeds,  
Where sweetness is, thence bitterness proceeds,  
And from one stalk how many thousand ills  
From the same Lymbeck drop, that good distils,  
How many discommodities attend  
Upon this Art, which all so much commend;  
On it, how many thousand labours wait,  
By turning over Books, early and late,  
Assiduate study, with an infinite care,  
For all the sundry maladies that are,  
To provide wholesome medicines, how to please  
The sick man's taste, and found th'unknowne disease,  
To know what hurts, what helps; his care being such  
Not to prescribe too little, nor too much.   

Not night in which thou down to rest shalt lie,  
But ere sleep fastens on thy tender eye,  
Loud at thy gate, some one or other knocks,  
As if he meant, to force both bolts and locks,  
Calls for the Doctor to get up in haste,  
The patient's ready to expire his last.  
His bowels ache, or he complains his head,  
Tossing and tumbling on his restless bed,  
Still clamoring till he perforce must rise:  
Thus (be it night or day) in post he fly's.  
He feels his pulse, to know how slow they beat,  
Than must he make conjecture from his sweat,  
And to found out where the disease doth devil,  
Forced sometimes at his chamber-pot to swell,  
Than Antidotes are suddenly prepared  
With Annulets, and Pills, made round and hard,  
Emplasters are to such a place applied,  
Unguents, and Salves to this or to that side.  
Suppositories, Clysters, fomentations,  
Poultices, opening veins, boxing, frications,  
Electuaries, sweeting, and what not?  
According to the Fever, cold or hot.   

He searcheth where the pain lies most extreme,  
Whether it rise from Choler, or from phlegm.  
The Megrim, Pleurisies, great or small Pox,  
The Measils', Worms, the Scouring, or the Flocks.  
Consumption, Ptysick, jaundice, black or yellow,  
Convulsion (or what scarce can found a fellow  
For sudden kill Squinsy in the throat,  
Obstructions, Dropsies: each disease of note  
Is known unto him how and whence it grows,  
The Ague, Cough, the Pyony, the Pose.  
Aches within, and accidents without,  
Strangurian, colic, Apoplex, the gout,  
Ruptures, the fretting of the guts, the Stone,  
who's troubled with the Spleen, who Liver-growne,  
Cramps, numbness in the jointures, Inflammations;  
Swelling i'th' secret parts, Impostumations,  
Warts, Blisters, Tumours, Pimples, Tetters, Weals,  
Even Leprosy itself, his medicine heals.   

And yet when he hath used all his Art;  
If suddenly, the patiented do not start  
From his crazed couch, and instantly headstrong,  
The vulgar murmur, and the Artist wrong,  
And say; who first begotten this superstition,  
That the sick-man should seek to the Physician?  
What madness is't, their trifling Art to trust?  
If they could keep themselves from being dust,  
And their own bodies free from all disease,  
Not yield to death, when so the Parcaes please,  
As all else do; I should approve their skills,  
And yield to taste their Potions and their Pills.  
Till than; I hold them made up of abuses,  
Mere cheating with their Cordials, and their juices.   

Thus, though they often redeem men from the grave;  
This, for their merit is the meed they have.  
To add to these: the Doctor is still tied  
Among sad folks, and mourners to abide.  
Where nothing's herded but sighing for the sick,  
And most contagious maladios reign thick,  
Nay, though the Plague, or pest itself be there,  
In him there must be found not cause of fear:  
Such are the hazards and the toils we know,  
Best Artists still are forced to undergo.   
FINIS.