ΣΤΡΑΤΙΩΤΙΚΟΝ. OR A Discourse of Military Discipline. Showing the necessity thereof according to these perilous TIMES.  VEGET. li. 3. 
Paucos viros fortes Natura procreate;  
Multos bona institutione facit industria.  
Printed. 1628.   

To the Most worthy and experienced Captain, the Lieutenant and all the well Disciplined company, Trained up in the Military yard at Norwich.  
Noble Captain, Gentlemen and friends.  
ACcept ye this small piece, in lieu of the great love, which I have always borne to your Laudable exercise; which (if I might have my wish) should not only out line Envy, but many ages also, yea rather end with time then in it. As for the fortune of this Treatise; I rather aspicate it from your gentle acceptance, than any worth of itself. Yet I would have the world know, that it comes from him, that dares as well vindicate it from the finister constructions, of malevolous Critics, as gratefully acknowledge the gracious censure of the courteous Reader. Read judiciously, judge favourably, and  
I am ever yours, unfeignedly. Ra. Knevet.   

To all to whom I write,  
gentlemans,  
ALthough I have little, or nothing at all been beholding to Fortune, or to the times, or to the great men of these times, (whose promises though seeming very fresh and forward, require more than one year to bring forth any fruits of performance) yet I would not have you think, that any necessitous regard, hath made my Muse so superstitious, to adore so many rising Suns. No, be ye assured, that it was a zealous consideration of these perilous times, quickened by some other more particular & slight respects that moved me to this task; which I deem no less warrantable by example then reason: for if you please to cast a long look back to the Trojan war, you shall find Calchas exciting the disheartened Greeks to prosecute the war. Look an age more backward, and there you may see Orpheus encouraging the Argonauts to the Colchian expedition. As for those detracting Dogs, such as (I am sure) this poor pamphlet shall meet with all, I would advise them to stand off, and not to be too hasty to awake a sleeping Lion, lest their ears or their tails pay for their unconsiderate rashness.  
But to you (kind Gentlemen) quorum ex meliore luto finxit precordia Titan) to whom, I hope this simple present shall not be unwelcome, I shall think myself ever bound in all honest love and service. But if there be any that to please their fancies, will misconstrue my good meaning, vilysy my labours, and reject my obsequiousness, it skils not much; for I can as well bear the loss of a Book as they the want of an understanding.  
R A. KNEVET.   

To his friend the Author.  
BEcause theyare few that do things worthy praise,  
Free truth is counted flattery now a days:  
And though it be our common Poet's shame,  
Truth cries thy Muse not guilty of that blame.  
Thou Orpheus-like our Heroes dost incite  
To warlike gests, and Myrmidons to fight.  
Such success wish I, that this Book may be  
As free from Envy, as from flattery.  
The most indulgent thought my Pen drops forth  
I dare not think can add unto the worth  
Of this rare piece; which shall (where it doth come)  
Strike Envy blind, and base detractors dumb.  
And so I wish all cankered spite may die,  
Despised, condemned by noble industry.  
And though thoust those which this task better fit  
From me much love expect, from them much wit.  
RO. WOTTON.   

To any to whom I write.  
BLame not my Muse, thou that dost find thy name  
Not Marshaled here, as thou wouldst have the same:  
No blemish tu to thy repute: for (know it)  
I act no Herald here (Sir) but a Poet.   

To the same.  
(KInd Gentlemen) Soldiers, or Clerks, or both  
My Muse as gentle greets you well (in troth)  
And tells you she can't woo ye at your tables  
By venting fripperies of jests, or fables  
Not worth the Phrygian Princes ears; nor raise  
A bare name to herself, by vulgar praise.  
No, no: she joys in action: and know that  
By the protection of a Beaver Hat,  
Or silken outside, she disdains to force  
Your presence, but had rather take a course  
To show herself to you in recall powers  
Then bid her welcome, and she's ever yours.  
R. K.   

To Captain HENRY SHELTON.  
IF many years in honour's service spent;  
If virtues s●●ting with a brave descent,  
Can give true lustre to a Name; then thine  
May seem least to require a Verse of mine.  
To give thy worth just height: yet Time displays  
Many sine heads, that oft have earned the bays  
In these and meaner tasks: for fame must know  
She cannot pay those glories, she doth own  
To great and good deserts, except some aids  
Be sent her from the nine Castalian maids.  
Had Homer (whom seven Cities striven to own)  
Not been; than who had great Achilles known,  
Or Hector in these times. Then let none blame  
My Muse, although she bears a part with fame  
In thy due praise; whether she doth commend  
Thy truest valour, that did always tend  
Thy noblest ends, or praise those honest Arts  
With which thou didst attract the Soldier's Hearts.  
Nor a●t thou less expert to live beloved  
In Peace, than War: to love thee all are moved  
By thy humanity, and piety.  
Then let detraction foul and calumny  
Be always Dumb: and let the World know ever,  
Thou mayst be envied much, but flattered never.   

To Mr. THOMAS KNEVET of Ashwell Thorpe.  
THou, that dost know thy Stars, canst calculate  
Thy geniture, and see to what end fate  
Did lend thee to the earth; auspicious be  
Thy favours, like thy Stars to mine and me:  
Thou know thy Stars (I say) for good men know  
Wherefore theyare borne, and what to God they owe,  
And how far theyare engaged to Prince, or state:  
For Grace, and Wisdom be the Stars and fate  
That govern them: these like those twin fires bright  
Do prospero all those that Sail by their light:  
These Steere men safely to the Haven of bliss,  
In spite of strongest contrarieties.  
These be thy Stars, that set th'aboue thy blood,  
True pattern and true patron of what's good:  
Thou art the Glass in which the World may see,  
What once our Gentry was, and still should be.  
A lover of thy Country, and of arts  
Art thou; disdaining to make thy good parts  
Ambitions Ladder, but had rather stay,  
Till time shall see thy merit rise like day  
And strike a Rosy blush in Honour's face;  
'Cause she had missed so long so fit a place  
For her best favours, which they shall admit  
To great Employments, answering thy wit,  
And heroic virtue; such great happiness  
I wish to thee, that dost deserve no less.   

To Sir ROGER TOWNSEND.  
I Sent my Muse unto the house of fame,  
Of her to inquire out some Honoured name  
Worthy of my Verse, and she commends to me  
A Townsend, than I quickly thought of thee;  
Then whom, a wiser he●d, Sold doth not see;  
Thy actions with such judgement seasoned be.  
Thou from thy fortune's height dainst to look on  
Lowly Parn●ss●s, and Po●●e Helicon;  
On humble Helicon, whose withered bays,  
Witness the Frosty dulness of these days.  
When merit, statue, because they scorn to be  
Base fortunes slaves, and fools are raised (we see)  
And Knaves, for now great men make greatest use  
Of these to hide, or perpetrate abuse.  
We Arts unhappy servants must be glad  
To fall before an Ass, in Scarlet clad,  
And or like Egypt's foolish Priests adore  
Monsters, in shapes of men, o'er still be poor.  
We sorted are with the Plebeian rout,  
And live as men borne only to wear out  
Serges, eat off●lls, or to fetch our drink  
From the Spring head, or consume Lamps and ink;  
When silly Silkworms strut in sundry shapes  
Like Proteus, when Sycophants and Apes  
Baboons, Bussones and sprucer trencher Squires,  
Be neatly dressed in Honour's richest tires.  
But you Sir Roger (on whose honoured name,  
More noble Virtues are scored up by fame,  
Then Time hath lent you years) an Artist are  
And Artist love; then double be your share  
In truest happiness, and let your night  
Day, morn, and even, on you shine ever bright,  
And from your genial bed let fruits appear,  
Worthy your worthy self, and your Bel-vere.   

To Sir CHARLES' LE-GROSSE.  
The Ring of Pyrrhus showed the Muses nine  
And Phoebus portraited by sculpture fine:  
But thou fair Knighthood's fairer ornament  
Conspicuously dost to our eyes present  
Phoebus, the Muses nine, the Grace's three,  
Mercury, and Mars, yea more Gods than be  
In Homer's Iliads; or at least much greater:  
For thy mind's a Pantheon, or a Theatre,  
Wherein all virtues, and all graces stand,  
In decent order linked, with hand in hand.  
The amongst the chiefest of the Arts few friends  
I list: and so adore thy noble ends,  
That if my Quill to virtue can life give,  
Thy honoured fame shall Nestor's age out live.   

To Sir JOHN HARE.  
Want in a plenty is too rise with us;  
So in the stream chin-deep stands Tantalus  
Wooing the coy Apples: and 'tis oft found  
That wit is scarce, where riches do abound.  
For golden Asses are no dainties here,  
They may be daily seen, even every where.  
But you (Sir john) whose youth with store is crowned,  
Are nothing less to Art, and Nature bound  
Then Fortune, yea such is your worth that now,  
A Knighthood becomes few so well as you.   

To Sir WILLIAM YELUERTON of Ruffham.  
'tIs meet Virgil's Quill should write of thee,  
Where such a concurrence of Gaces be;  
That were all Gentry out of frame, we might  
By thee take pattern, how to set it right.  
Thy won habrisker Muse than mine requires;  
Then let them sing while mine alone admires.   

To Sir MILES HOBART Knights of the bath.  
Never drank I of Pegasus his well,  
Nor in Parnassus dreamt (that I can tell)  
Though I write Verse, for I would have men know it,  
The Times are good or ill, make me a Poet.  
To praise Ulysses wise, as much may care is,  
As to condemn Thersites, or vain Paris.  
And as sweet Orpheus to his Harp did set  
High tuned Ditties, great courages to whet;  
So ever be't my task, to move great spirits,  
And honourable souls, to brave demerits.  
Mongst whom (Sir Miles) me thinks I see you rise  
Like Phosphorus, graced with such qualities,  
That they, as well as your high orders rites,  
May justly rank you with the best of Knights.   

To Sir JOHN HENNINGHAM.  
TO praise your lonliued, or long honoured name,  
A wrong were to your virtues (Hemmingham)  
Let those which can afford naught else that's good,  
Extol the borrowed honours of their blood.  
Your Gentry you may justly call your own.  
Although you bought it not, nor from furred-gown,  
It took; nor in Tobacco papers wrapped;  
It brought from Spain; nor with a white Coyse capt  
It chatting sound in that great guilty hall,  
Where Cerberus for Golden sops doth bawl.  
But from your honoured virtues the same flows,  
And this true Gentry is: the rest are shows.   

To Sir HEYMAN LE-STRANGE.  
AS doth the purple headed rose pricked in  
The tender bosom, of the Paphian Queen,  
All beauties of the Garden far out shine:  
So do those worthy parts, and Arts of thine,  
Set thee above most (divine Le-Strange)  
That knowst as well to walk the Muses range,  
As thine own groves: and canst without a thread,  
Find what in learning's Labyrinth is hid.  
The age discovers few such men alive,  
That rich, can also teach their minds to thrive.   

To Sir THOMAS SOUTHWELL.  
TAblets of Gold, with richest Rubies set  
Shine nor so bright, as doth the Cabinet  
Where in your soul is looked; a Palace sit  
For such a noble courage, and a wit.  
Ever mayst thou give Adder's audience  
Unto tame flattery: nor let sense  
With sugared baits delude thy intellect:  
But ever let some noble end direct  
Thy good disignes: yea let them always be  
Both correspondent to thy stem, and thee.   

To Sir THOMAS WOODHOUSE.  
YOu are the man, that well discern what betters  
An high fortune, and can prefer good letters  
Before those painted plumes, which Crown the crest  
Of swelling honour: such great interest  
In your most worthy parts possesseth art,  
That your high wisdom seems to have got the start  
Of your great fortunes, though they well befit  
Both your thrice worthy Pedigree, and wit.   

To Sir THOMAS RICHARDSON.  
HEe, and no judge, that never had the skill  
With words, one better than himself to kill:  
Nor ere did lay a plot for to oppress  
The new made widow, and the fatherless:  
Nor ever did Church-lands o● Commons wring  
From God; both dead and living 〈◊〉:  
Certes is clear from many crying crimes;  
Yet such, as be, made customs by the times.  
But you Sir Thomas 'midst your fortunes must  
Regard, that you, and what is yours are dust  
That in this world, you have but a short lease,  
And may be turned out when your Landlord please.  
Know eke that what is yours, is yours to give  
And live so well, that you may die to live.   

To Sir ROBERT GAUDY.  
FIrst, if I might safely crave this world's pelf;  
To be beloved next would I wish myself,  
And rather than the first alone I'd choose,  
The second I would take and that refuse.  
But you Sir Robert have fates bl●ssing got,  
Y'are wealth, and beloved, yea and what not  
Nor ever were the Stars more just (I swear't)  
With such great goods, to trust such good desert.   

To Sir DRV DAURY.  
AS did love wounded Echo dote upon  
The beautiful Narcissus, that loved none;  
So doth my Muse affect your worthy parts  
Applauded every where, by tongues and hearts.  
And though I in your praise come short of many  
Yet may my love to you rank me with any.   

To Sir JOHN HOBART.  
SInce are no thriving arts: but what's well gained,  
May with much comfort, and long be retained,  
But justice oft cries the oppressor quit,  
By sending his young Heir too scant a wit  
For his large means; that soon all goes to pot:  
For fools do ill keep, what knaves have ill got.  
But you (Sir john) are freed from such black brands,  
Both by the cleanness of your father's hands.  
And your own ripeness, who can use your fortune,  
Both spend, and spare, as time and cause importune:  
Sole master of yourself, and pelf, you are,  
Which is a freedom among great men rare.   

To Sir ROBERT BELL.  
TO ring out thy great frame, if I had skill,  
The E'cho thereof should our Island fill.  
So consonants thy virtue to thy wit,  
And so thy outward feature graceth it,  
That my Muse may one syllable add well  
Unto thy Surname, and call thee Le-bell.   

To Sir WILLIAM DE-GRAY.  
I Take thy name on Fame's bare word (Sir Knight)  
I know thee not; yet swear I think thouart right  
Because thou art beloved; then ever be  
My Muse obsequious to thy worth, and thee.  
He that good store of sincere love hath won.  
Wisely hath played his game, and fairly run.   

To Mr. FRAMMINGHAM GAUDY.  
GA●dy such store of worth doth Crown thy name,  
That it like to column stands which fame  
To lasting memory, and honour builds,  
Whereon thy virtues hang like Pensile shields,  
As Trophies of those glorious Victories,  
Won from the lesser Worlds great enemies  
Then let thy fame with time vie days and years,  
Let death be joy to thee; to others tears.   

To Mr. SHEPHERD of Kyrby.  
OLd Melibee) that hast the hearts of all,  
Because thy love is likewise general:  
Not Time alone, but thy dear Country's cares  
Which far exceed thy years, have changed thy hairs  
To white: then let thy Silver age thee fold  
In more contents, than did thy age of gold.   

To Mr. WEBBE of Breckles.  
THat curious Web which proud Arach●e spun;  
Or that which chaste Penelope begun,  
Match not this piece whose worth exceeds all choice,  
That Pallas to own it may well rejoice  
Arachne's silken web deciphered plain  
Io●es 'scapes, and what might thee Olympists stain  
But (worthy Webbe) all beauteous graces be  
Both moral, and Divine be described in thee.   

To Mr. ANTHONY HOBART of Hales.  
When the Thessalian witches uttered  
Their charms to Luna, she wo●t to look red:  
So do true virtues blush to hear their praise,  
While the praised Peacocke his gay plumes displays.  
But you m●y safely hear while safely I  
Commend your wisdom, or your honesty:  
For he that attributes to merits true  
Deserved praise, pays virtue but her due.   

To Mr. PHILIP WOODHOUSE.  
ME thought I stood that sacred fountain night,  
Where high conceits in blessed draughts are lent  
Whose crystal breast seemed suddenly to rent  
And when a Nymph of rarest majesty.  
Whose hair seemed Gold, and skin clear I 〈◊〉,  
Upon her brows an Arch of bays was bend,  
Her presence taught even Trees to compliment.  
For all the Laurels bowed, and modesty,  
With a low voice, seemed, to give suffrage free,  
To make her Empress of fair Helicon.  
With that I heard a groan, which seemed to be  
Sent from the urns, of Poets dead and gone,  
Whose Ghosts envied this peerless Lady's grace.  
That should them all in lofty strains surpass,  
Mistake me not (I think) your Muse was she,  
That like this Sylvan Nymph appeared to me.   

To Mr. WILLIM POSTON of Paston.  
‛ Young hopeful sprig) that art borne to inherit  
Abundant wealth (if thou dost not prefer it  
Before the freedom) know that thy best use  
Of thine; is to be liberal; not profuse.  
Know like wise that content is your best store;  
And that to covet more, is to be poor.  
For Covetise as well wants her own,  
As what is not: seek rather to be known  
By the great virtues, than thy great estate;  
Nor let thy tempting heaps of dross elate  
Thy mind above thyself; but still remember  
In May, and June, what follows in December.  
Mark how thy youth, thy pleasures, and thy wealth,  
Yea life and all do flits away by stealth.  
Know that it is world is but a Tomb of clay,  
To keep thy body till the latter day:  
Think ever that th'u'rt near thy day of doom,  
And be prepared to wait on the Bridegroom.  
Thus mayst thou be a thrice most happy one  
In life, in death, and resurrection.   

To Mr PETTIE of Morley.  
SOme of thy wealth talk, but I praise thy wit,  
And many worthy virtues gracing it.  
But thy great love to Arts, so make me thine,  
That my true heart shall ever be the shrine  
Of thy good name, which in the Book of same  
I'll register to dull oblivions shame.  
And if my pen can add aught to thy worth,  
In spite of Envy's throat, it shall come forth:  
Till then; accept this my great loves small treasure;  
And Hercules his height by his foot measure.   

To Mr. JOHN HOLLAND.  
THou that art made of better tempered clay,  
Then Titan ere made any; who dost pay  
Thy youth to time, with greater interest  
Of virtue, then of years, and promisest.  
More goods, then are of fair Pandora feigned;  
And hopes more beauteous than her box contained.  
Be thou like Phoebus, or his bays, and find  
The blind God, and blind Goddess ever kind.  
Be such that I to take may ever long,  
So fair a Theme as Holland for my Song.   

To Mr. BARTHOLOMEW COTTON.  
ANd here too grows a Tree, that may in time  
Bear golden Apples, in a colder clime  
Than is Hesperia in; for so presage  
Thy blossoms (●ottom) and thy spring of age.  
Then let kind fortune give thy worth full sails,  
Till Honour greet thee with as many hails,  
As ere Sitanus had: and let thy name  
Become th'example of well gotten fame.   

To Mr. THOMAS WARDE of Bixley.  
IF my devout Muse could ever bring  
Aught worth acceptance, or an offering  
Unto thy Virtue, justly I might deem  
Myself thrice happy in so good a theme.  
Yet let thy worth vouchlafe to take these lines,  
As the pledges of my great Love, and signs  
Of true affection, wanting alone  
Art to discover that impression,  
Which the conceit of thy most high desert  
Hath Charracterd so deeply in my heart.  
And though my pen a pencil be scarce fit  
To Paint out to the life thy merit; yet  
My heart shall ever be engaged to thee;  
Because I think thou lov'st the Arts and me.   

To Mr. THOMAS LAYER of Booton.  
SHould I forget your name, you well might think  
'Twas neither lack of paper, nor of ink,  
Not time, but want of good discretion,  
That caused the fault: nor is't your place alone;  
Not the command of your Horse troop (I mean)  
But that more great command, where with you rein  
Hot merrald passions, which doth invite  
My Muse these few lines for your sake to write.  
Your want of vice, and your attractive parts,  
That force no fears, but bring you loves and hearts  
Make me a debtor to your worth: then know you  
I pay you this, as part of what I owe you.   

To Mr. JAMES CALTHORP.  
What May hath vowed, if August truly pays  
What tongue or pen (Cal●horp) can reach thy  
Then let no harmful blasts those blossoms kill, (praise  
Let no affection ere misled thy william.  
Be wise, and good, let death long stand aloof:  
And let thy mind be chance, and danger proof.   

To Mr. WILLIAM BLADWELL.  
Joy be to thee, of thy new place (say I)  
That seem'st to affect noble cavalry,  
A glory which France vaunts of, to our shame,  
We are become so careless of our fame.  
Some tripping Hackney, we had rather back  
Or-dastard race-horse, or some snasled jack,  
Then mount the praunsing Courser, by whose pride  
The Rider's courage might be multipli'de.  
And ye our Knights have ye forgot your name,  
Or do ye wilfully neglect your fame;  
Ye by your Spurs seem to be Chevaliers,  
But by your Steeds y'are Northern Borderers,  
Or some Heath-scourers, fitter far to fly  
Then manage combat 'gainst an enemy.  
O sleep not still; lest ye contend too late,  
Your honours from the dust to vindicate.   

To Mr. RALPH BLEVER-HASSIT  
NOt only thy affection did I prize  
Shown to our Military exercise,  
When here I wrote thy name (deserving Hassit)  
No, no: thy honesty, and virtue was it,  
That won me to this task; then here I give  
What next high heaven, may make the longest liue.  
I hope you'll ' kindly take't; for I dare say,  
Such presents are not brought you every day.   

To Mr. CLEMENT HYRNE.  
HOnest, and honoured Hyrne; that dost enshrine  
Such worth, as should Fortune herself resign.  
And hers, to thee; none truly might thee call  
Her mere favourite; or her, prodigal;  
Ever be she (I wish) thy virtue's slave,  
And readier far to give, than thou to crave.   

To Mr. EDMUND KNEVET.  
EXcept thy worthy brother, scarce I find  
A Gentleman, more truly mine, in mind  
Then thee; nor let opinion so ill see,  
To think thy outside makes me honour thee;  
I mean thy rank, or state; no let men know;  
Nor my thoughts, nor thy merits fly so low:  
For thou hast my affection nobly bought  
At Virtue's highest rate, and not for naught.   

To Mr. AUSTIN HOLLE.  
IF I could hate thee; or of myself so much;  
To entertain soul Envy; thy wits such,  
I like th'Illyrian Beldames of't should gaze,  
Or like May's frosts upon the budding maze.  
But certes, neither I to envy know,  
Nor be thy rare endowments fixed so low,  
That Envy can eclipse them: then here see  
What love and admiration offers thee.   

To Mr. EDWARD WOOTTON.  
I Find thee such: so kind, so true to me,  
That I must own both love, and life to thee  
Nor was't thy love alone, but thy desert,  
That made me in this place thy name insert,  
For this I say; and speak but what I know;  
Thy mind and body do such rare gifts show,  
As scarce are found elsewhere (which used well)  
The times will hardly yield thy parallel.   

To Mr. EDWARD DOILY.  
TO season fresh acquaintance, these lines take  
From him, that for his friends, and virtue's sake  
Dares rather do, then speak: for talk he deems  
Is womanish, but action men beseems.  
If aught abides then in me, or my Muse,  
Worth your command; 'tis ready for your use.   

To Mr. JOHN CAUSO.  
THou that art far more worthy of the bays,  
Deign to assist my homespun untuned lays  
With gracious censure; for upon thy tongue,  
Depends the grace, and fortune of my song.  
So sharp a wit, and judgement dwell in thee,  
Refined by such rare knowledge, that I see  
Apollo's trees may grow elsewhere, then on  
Our green Parnassus, or our Helicon.   

A DISCOURSE OF MILITARY DISCIPLINE.  
Lo my Thalia, that was whilom seen,  
Frisking among the Nymphs, in Forest green,  
To Satyr's pipes; and that did sing (long since)  
Her morals smooth, to Pan the Shepherd's Prince:  
Is now pressed to a far unfitter task;  
And like Bellona, armed with steely cask;  
Powers warlike accents forth, and numbers meet  
For trumpets stern, and stately buskined feet.  
Then o ye thrice three sisters that sit on  
Parnassus' green, and flowery Helicon;  
Spinning your gentle flax in the cool shade;  
Because the Arts are grown too poor a trade,  
To find ye smocks withal: and that great Goddess  
(Pallas) who (wheresoever thy abode is)  
Canst scarce discharge th'ey pences of thy lights,  
With writing Poems in long Winter nights:  
Be ye propicious to your gentle swain;  
One draught of pure Castalian juice him deign;  
And with an active furie touch his brain,  
That he may set his notes in lofty strain  
He that extols the thing, 
Arbour Vitteriasa ●riumph●●●.  which all men praise,  
Shall hardly merit those immortal bays,  
That glorious wreath, that Crown which is meet for  
(Only) a Poet, 
Pi●nor ● imperad●ri & d● Poeti. Pet. arc●.  and an Emperor.  
What need we praise Apollo's radiant light:  
When dullest Hinds, can apprehend by sight  
More lustre in his face; then we can Paint,  
With best conceits; or numbers ne'er so acquaint.  
But so pernicious, are the minds of men:  
So sinillen their wills: so fraught with reene;  
That things, which always do deserve applause;  
Are oft contemned by some: and hear the cause.  
In this worst age; each man extols that thing,  
Which doth to him much gain, and profit bring:  
He only is a friend unto himself:  
Devoted only, to his idle pelf.  
Religion, and the soucraigntie of Kings,  
He deems to be, but ceremonious things.  
That love which he unto his neighbour owes;  
He pays in compliments, and sained shows,  
And as for that respect, which doth pertain  
Unto his Parents. he accounts it vain:  
And while he thrives, and hath enough to give;  
On parish alms will see his mother live.  
Friendship he deems a foolish fond conceit;  
If it brings in no profitable freight.  
(dal Camel) when he seeth the Azure heaven  
Full fixed with Stars, and the bright Planets seven,  
The Elements; all beasts, all fowls, and fish,  
Trees, plants, and herbs, with all that heart can wish,  
Created for his use; yet think that he  
Is borne, from all exterior duties free.  
The commmon-wealths deep wounds, pierce not his skin:  
He careth not who loose, so he may win.  
Not any sad thought would he entertain.  
When Fame talked of so many worthies slain,  
By adverse Mars, and Fortune (that coy wench)  
Maligning English valour, and turned French;  
That now with swelling vaunts, they dare report  
Their glory equalled our at Agincort.  
Nor will he bestow one auspicious thought  
Upon the Danes designs; nor cares he aught  
Who wins the day, who conquers, or who falls;  
Be they our friends, or proud Imperials.  
Thus; (by the depraved nature of Man's will)  
That worth in others is maligned full;  
Which in themselves they want; and only deem  
That good, which doth in private profit them.  
Thus things that merit all respect, and grace,  
Are under valued, and accounted base.  
All moral, and all martial discipline,  
They slight as vain: yea, be the same divine,  
They'll censure it: foul shameless brats,  
That would seem Eagles, though as blind as ba●s.  
But we (that are sent by Apollo bright,  
To vindicate all virtue, from the spite  
Of foul detraction, whose envenomed darts,  
With equal rancour wound, both Arms, and Arts  
(Alcides-like) whose monsters will expel;  
Whose slanderous tongues (as with exorcists spell  
Shall by our powerful numbers be conjured;  
In circles of their mouths to rest immured.  
But intermit (my Muse) thy hasty chase;  
And give those Harpies leave, to breathe a space  
Another work doth thy assistance ask:  
Then (my Virago) take thee to thy task:  
And with a pirrhique strain grace every line;  
So shouldst thou sing of Martial Discipline  
Although we (men) be led by reason's lamp;  
Yet ought we go astray; because the damp  
Of gross affections doth put out that light,  
And from the right way makes us wander quite:  
That we, of silly Beasts may learn to tread  
The pithes, which to true happiness do lead.  
The painful Bee doth reach us industry.  
The Turtle to observe pure chastity.  
The Pilmire warns us to be provident.  
The Nightingale shows how we should repent.  
The Robin-redbreast learns us charity.  
The Stork how to require a courtesy.  
The Cock shows valour who had rather die,  
Then yield to his insulting enemy.  
By these; we (men) instructed are likewise  
In Warlike feats, and Martial policies.  
The 
a Grief in loca calidiora pete●ics mae●e ●ran, miliunt ●an●●● forma●●ss●●unt. Cic ● Nat.  Cranes (by day) keep order in their flight;  
And always one stands Sentinel at night.  
When that the Indian 
b I●●ncumon est an mallmag●●nd●n● 〈◊〉 lu●● convolute, came ●●p●de p●g. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  Rat doth vodertake,  
Against the Asp, his party good to make;  
His body he all over daubs with dirt;  
That his foes venom can do him no hurt.  
The 
c ●●e●hant● 〈◊〉 est 〈◊〉, ob●d aest●●●erre● te●a D●a●onioque exp●●●●tur, etc. P●n.  Dragon far to weak, to maintain sight  
Against the Elephant; kills him by sleight:  
For in some Thicket, he in ambush lies:  
And (ere he be aware) doth him surprise.  
The 
d In ulnare moll. t●nuisque c●t●s C●ocoull●: Idiose●t ter●●t● merquer Dolphin's s● exit. t●s q●al●um ●●ain secunt spinu. Plin.  Dolphin, not of force, with his sharp sin  
To pierce the Crocodiles hard scaly skin,  
Seems to retreat, as weary of the fight;  
And diving down, doth sergeant a flight:  
Then from the deeps, remounting suddenly,  
His foes soft belly wounds, and makes him die.  
The Horse, the Bull, and Bore know when and how  
Both to assail their foes, and shifted a blow.  
If these brute creatures (led alone by sense)  
Can so expertly make their own defence,  
To save that blood, which we accounted so base  
That oft we spill it, to enjoy the case;  
Then we should be ten thousand times more wise,  
To save that life, which we so highly prize.  
Nor is the loss of life the greatest ill,  
Redounding from the want of warlike skill:  
For honours, 
Granicus Bitbynia f●uu●us pagna que inter P●rsas & Alexandrum suit nobila. Diod 1, 17  freedom, goods, oft go to wrack  
In each ill managed state, where that doth lack.  
Great Alexander, in his growing pride,  
Upon the banks of Granicus had died:  
Or (captain taken) had attended on  
His proud foes car, through streets of Babylon.  
If his strong Phalanx, had not calmed the pride,  
Of Persian bravery, at her highest ride.  
This strong Battalion stretched even to the skies  
His same; and to both Seas his victories.  
So glorious Conquests have been oft obtained,  
By numbers few, well disciplined, and trained.  
But mighty multitudes (where skill doth want)  
Of good success can very seldom vaunt:  
For Victory is coy, and will not be  
Forced, by rude multitudes; but rather she  
Unto a few well Disciplined, doth yield  
Herself, with all the Honour of the field.  
Proud Xerxes, whose huge troops drank rivers dry  
And even with lowly plains, made mountains high,  
Did flee from Greece, in a poor fisher's boot,  
Who whilom had so many Ships a floote,  
As made a large Bridge, over Hellespont;  
That had Leander lived, he might upon't  
Have had a safe recourse, by night, or day,  
To that saire Tower, where his sweet mistress lay.  
Worth doth consist in quality alone;  
Not quantity: for the small precious stone,  
Is at high rates, and value ever prized;  
When greater flints, and pebbles are despised.  
Even so, the vigour of an Army stands  
(Chiefly) in expert, and well ordered bands;  
And not in throngs of men; whole force unskilled,  
Doth rather let, then help to win the field.  
Old Rome, her Empire's Arms had never spread,  
From high-browed Taurus, to Sols wat'ry bed;  
If that her expert Legions (so oft tried)  
Could have been matched, in all the world beside  
Nor did her greatness any whit decrease,  
Until that ancient Discipline did cease,  
By which she had, to her first height, ascended;  
And her wide Empire's bounds so long defended.  
Her Majesty stood free from all decay,  
While she her thirty Legions kept in pay.  
But when sweet Asia's womanish delights,  
Had turned her Captains, into carpet Knights:  
Yea when her Soldiers, and Commanders both,  
Were wholly given to pleasures, and to sloth;  
And when true Discipline was laughed to scorn;  
Her naked sides then by her foes were torn.  
Great boundless minded Caesar (not content,  
With Conquest of the Western continent)  
Did pass the Seas, to find our Britain's out;  
Who entertained him with such courage stout;  
That (if of skill, there had not been a lack)  
The haughty Roman had been beaten back.  
Nor in those times, when Rome's ambition fierce  
Did search each corner of the universe;  
Stood we in greatest danger; for Rome's hate  
Is more than trebled toward us, since that.  
For now the time, do greatest perils show;  
So many foes we'haue, and friends so few.  
Needs then must my impartial Muse commend  
Those, whom their country's love doth move, to spend  
Some hours, in Mars his School, where loyal hearts  
May learn the rule, of Military arts.  
But thou (fair Norwich) by whose stone-ribed side,  
The gentle Y are in sandy path doth glide,  
Creeping along thy mead with a slow pace,  
As ravished with the beauty of thy face:  
And parted from thee, still his love doth show  
With frequent looks, and softly sigh adieu.  
I praise thy wisdom, and thy prudent care,  
That art in Peace, providing against war:  
As witness may that warlike practice be,  
Which now is so exactly taught in thee.  
O what a graceful quality it is,  
To be expert in Martial properties.  
The Tennis-court, and bowling grounds smooth face,  
Compared with the Artill'rie yard seem base.  
Those great Olympic Games, and Isthmian plays  
Did never merit such applause, and praise;  
As do those Martial gymnickes in our days:  
Those games through ostentation were ordained  
But ours for public weals sake be maintained.  
To know each motion well, and to perform  
Each title of command, in truest form.  
To do the Musket's Postures dextrously:  
And nimbly for to let a Bullet fly:  
With advantageous skill to manage p●ke:  
To know to defend, and how to strike,  
Doth not alone at hand, prevail in fight,  
But also doth far of the foe affright.  
These warlike principles be not obtained  
All suddenly; but by long practise gained;  
And (being gotten once) are soon forgot;  
If often exercise preserves them not.  
For frequent use, and action must supply  
The habit; lest it in a sudden die.  
And like the lamp, be soon extinguished quite,  
When th'oil is gone that should maintain the light.  
The ancient French so fierce a people were,  
And so great conquest got ' they every where,  
That mighty Kings in awe of France then stood, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉   
Seeking her friendship not her neighbourhood:  
When Charles the great in Italy had quelled  
The Lombard's: and the Saracens expelled  
From Spain: and when the Saxons were compelled  
To the French yoke their stubborn necks to yield,  
Dismayed then were the Eastern Emperors:  
Yea all the world did then fear Frances force.  
Much honour likewise did Christ's zealous Knight  
Great Godfrey win for France; when he did fight  
His Saviour's fields, in those vnchristned lands,  
Where his chief hopes on frenchmens' valour stands  
But virtue's grown t'extreames, breed worse effects.  
Then ere could have been caused by their defects.  
For this fierce Nation used to Wars, and spoils,  
When foreign foes did fail, broached civil broils:  
That their Kings (for to remedy these harms)  
Were forced to forbid the use of Arms  
Unto the vulgar sort, and them compelled  
Or to turn up the bowels of the field,  
Or for to ply mechanic faculties;  
Debarring them from warlike exercise.  
Thus France her ancient reputation lost,  
Beaten by Sea, and Land, on every coast.  
And few I think but Frenchmen will deny,  
That French are Europe basest Infant'rie.  
Armour for War, from the Arsenal is brought,  
But weapons for the Victory be wrought  
In forge of discipline: could furious might,  
Or strength of brawny limbs prevail in fight,  
Then who could match those huge Patagones',  
Or buckle with those Western Savages  
Whom Spain makes slaves: or if activity  
Alone could win a glorious Victory,  
Then who could match the light Numidians,  
That like wild Goats on craggy rocks can dance  
Then who could match the Kern, or Galloglasse,  
That on the quaking Bogs as safely pass,  
As we on firmest plains: or if the skill  
Of managing a horse at Rider's will,  
Could win the day, than had not in such sort  
The French been slaughtered at their Agincourt.  
Or if by number conquest might be won,  
Then had the greeks been foiled in Marathon.  
Thus neither horsemanship, nor many hands,  
Strength, nor activity, the field commands:  
But the well ordered foot that be refined  
By exercise, and throughly disciplined,  
These always win the fortune of the day,  
For Fortune doth true Fortitude obey.  
Nor in those elder times (before the Monk, 
Bertoidus Swartz invented Guns, Au. Dom. 1; 8c. They were first used by the Venetians. Gord.   
Invented had his murther-spitting trunk;  
That plague of valour, height of Hell's despite)  
Was warlike Discipline so requisite,  
As now it is: for there's required more skill,  
To handle well a Gun, than a black bill.  
Of Policy, orders the soul alone:  
And Nature's very life (that being gone)  
Things cease to be: for should the golden Sun  
Swerve from the course, which he hath wont to run  
Roaming at random up and down in heaven:  
Or should the Stars; and those bright Planets seven,  
Not walk those rounds, which God hath the appointed,  
Soon should the world's great fabric be dis-jointed  
But a great Army (where nor Captains know  
What to command, nor silly Soldiers how  
To execute) is like a Galeon  
Of mighty bulk, ill rig'd, and floating on  
The surging maine, without sufficient stores  
Oftackling, ballast, and wave-sliceing oars,  
With sails untrimmed, and wanting at the stern  
An expert Pilot, that should well discern  
The Channels course; and know each creek and cape,  
And by what point, his course he should forth shape.  
(Doubtless) if Aeolus ruffling sons should 〈◊〉  
This forlorn vessel, in so weak plight, then  
From their fierce rage, she hardly should escape  
To harbour, without peril of rape.  
Even so those great Armadas, that consist  
Of huge unexpert troops, and a long lift  
Of men's bare names, 
〈…〉.  do oft become a prey  
To their fierce foes, and seldom win the day.  
That son of Mars, that valiant Epirot,  
That matchless Prince, thrice worthy Castriot,  
In two and twenty bloody fights, compelled  
Huge Turkish Armies, to forsake the field:  
Nor ever did his greatest strength, and force,  
Exceed five thousand men (both foot and horse)  
On order, doth eternity depend:  
And Victory, is Discip'ines fair end.  
Victory, that bliss of Kings, that sole good  
Which War affords, whose face besmeared with blood,  
More tempting loves doth to her darlings offer;  
Then Cleopatr'as' lip, when she did ptoffer  
A courtly Kiss, to great Mark Anthony;  
Who with the splendour of her Majesty  
Was to a Statue struck, and stood amazed,  
As one that on the Gorgon's scalp had gazed,  
But some there be (I know) that thus object:  
What need we thus our business neglect?  
What needs this Stir? this idle exercise?  
Secure are we, from sorraine enemies:  
Our streets have in these many years not heard  
The voice of War, there's nothing to be feared  
No inroads, nor incursions, do affright  
Our fearful Hinds: no out-cries raised by night  
Are 〈◊〉 of approaching foes: no fires  
Do crown our Beacons: and all those are liars,  
Which say that Spain, dares venture for to try  
Another Voyage, against Brittany.  
Let us tend our affairs, confine ourselves  
Unto our Shops; and while the Peasant delves,  
And rips his Mother's womb, to find out wealth,  
Let us grow rich by sleight of tongue, and stealth.  
While others ply their Military Arts,  
We will be sure to learn to play our parts;  
To cog, and foist, to keep our measures short,  
To vent bad Ware, and take good Money for't.  
Let's cocker up our Wives, and keep them neat;  
Raise ourselves high with sweet lascivious meat  
For luxury: Le's cheat, and cousin all;  
The pinching Carl, and profuse prodigal.  
In truth to cheat the wicked no sin 'tis;  
They must be plagued for their iniquities.  
But hear me (friend) thou that hast done more ills,  
Then ere were punished on those woeful Hills,  
Of mournful Magdalene: thou who dost thrive  
By knavery, and cozenage; which canst dive  
Into the depth of craft, to rake for pelf;  
And rob ten thousand, to enrich thyself:  
Thou which dost mask thy crimes, with gestures pure:  
And think'st thouart safe, so long as thouart secure:  
Be not deceived: for know thy sin alone,  
Deserves naught less, than an invasion.  
But though all foreign enemies should fail;  
(As Vengeances too small, to countervail  
Our wickednsse) the Devil may find out  
Some daring Ket, in boroughs here about;  
To plague us, and make pillage of our goods,  
To fire our houses, and to spill our bloods.  
If heaven's just wrath, should send such punishments;  
Then who should be best able for defence;  
But these that be with warlike skill endued,  
To bring in order the rude multitude.  
And while those dolts, that have but skill enough  
To weigh their plums, or measure out their stuff,  
Shall be unable to obey command;  
These shall be fit, each one, to lead a band.  
But suppose that heaven's awful ordinance,  
Had confined War, to Germany, or France:  
Suppose our Land from broils should always be  
As safe, as Ireland is from vipers free:  
Yet is this exercise, and warlike sport,  
Thrice more praiseworthy, than the Tennis court,  
Or Bowling Alley, where loss and expenses,  
Breed many discontentments, and offences.  
Then (worthy Citizens) into whose hearts  
The wise Prometheus, hath infused three parts.  
Of those pure spriteful flames, which he did steal,  
From bright Apollo's radiant chariot wheel;  
Ye that your private cares can intermit,  
And spare some hours, for public benefit:  
Frequent ye still Bellona's Court, and know  
More Postures, then can all the Soldiers show;  
That ere Blood thirsty Belgia deigned to spare  
From all the furies of a lingering war  
But (that your exercise may ever last)  
Ye must be joined all together fast,  
Within the Golden cord, of Unity:  
All may en●oy the same immunity,  
In 〈◊〉 nath command: it skils not who  
The colours bears (so long as there's no foe)  
That place, or grace, which all alike may merit,  
(In my conceit) all may by course inherit.  
Then let no Envy, nor ambitious thought,  
Break that society, which time hath wrought  
By virtue's help: let disagreement never,  
The joints of your fraternity dissever:  
But if soul Discord, that Tartarean else,  
(Who in eternal darkness, waste herself  
With dire imaginations, and damned thought,  
To bring each worthy exercise to naught)  
Shall fill your hearts, with the Cadmeian seed  
Of strife; then let my Muse, with powerful reed,  
Those mischief's charm, and repossess your minds  
With that respect, which lovely concord binds.  
So did (of yore) the Thracian Lyrist'swage,  
With his consenting notes, the direful rage  
Of Greekish youths, when they had forgot quite  
The golden steece, for which they went to fight,  
Each other seeking to deprive of life,  
So fell was their debate, so great their strife.  
Discords the bane of things, a poyso'us worm,  
That doth infested the joints of States, a storm  
Which many Common wealths hath ruined,  
And many hopeful actions frustrated:  
Nor can I here, forbear to interpose  
Those unauspicious quarrels, 
Sa ad●us ●tiam Ni●rosolymam sponte no●bs reddidiss●, 〈…〉. Ex litt●●●● Rich., ad coelest. 2  that arose,  
Between stout Cuer de Lion, and his brother  
In law, and Arms, who sworn to aid each other,  
Yet entertained (in stead of love) deep hate:  
And by a separation, tempted fate  
To the defeat, of their great enetrprise:  
For which proud Philip Richard's worth envies,  
He is required with as deep disdain;  
And soon (for spite) returned to France again:  
But (if their mutual vows they had not broke)  
Christ's City then, had cast off Isma'ls yoke.  
But Concord, is the strength of War, in field,  
And Camp, more torci●le, than sword, and shield:  
Of Conquest, that's the truest augury;  
〈◊〉 of hope, portent of victory.  
Fair Belgia had long since been de●flowr'd,  
By the Hesperian Dragon, and devoured,  
Had thee admitted any inbred st●fe:  
Concord's her sinews, blood, and very life.  
Her sheate of arrows bound together fast, 
A Lion with a sheaf of Arrows in his paw; the Arms of Holland.   
Are th'auspice of her welfare; which shall last;  
So long, as doth the rampant Lion hold,  
His shafts unbroke: and as (in days of old)  
The weary greeks, at Troy found good success,  
When they had got the shafts of Hercules:  
Even so, 
Scylurus so li●e os ha●ens, mor●turus ●asciculum. ●●al●rum stugalis porrexit, justle, rumpere, 〈◊〉 cum n●rp●● n●●pse singul. ●icult exe●●t; atque●●fac●●e co●f● egit on●ni●. ●ilos dinon●●h●s verbis: Sic●●end●s er●●s, etc. Plut. Apop.  Scylurus arrows shall maintain  
The Netherlands, against the pride of Spain.  
Concord's that glolden chain, let down from heaven  
On ●hose well ordered links, dependeth even  
The world's stability: it doth combine  
Both hearts, and hands, and prospero each deligue.  
In all 〈◊〉, sickness breeds,  
Which of the disproportioned humours feeds;  
For these vneuen'●y mixed, such a 〈◊〉,  
That it the bodies common health decays,  
If some Physi●ion ●oth not the● atone,  
And by an ostracism, expel that one,  
Which is predominant: That confused m●sse  
Of things (which Chaos hight) maintained was  
By Discord, and while she there domineared,  
No height, no heaven, no Sea, no earth appeared;  
(Thrust thence by jove) she crept into men's hearts;  
Where she began to play her devilish parts;  
For being sir too weak, to work her ends  
Against the greater world, her force she bends  
Against the less; 
Bellum inte● d●os A●d●on●cost am p●and. 〈…〉 p. ●●●. 〈◊〉 ay). ●●. 1321. 〈◊〉 Ma●● 4 〈◊〉 I●han: ●●a●●nt H●●●, Va●●., A. D●. 713 N●rse● (con●●●nclia acc●●●a ab ●n●e●●r●ce Sop ●●) ●cc●rsit Lo● o●ardos in Italian. ●nno Dom. ●●●. Pa●lus Diac  inciting men to jars,  
To murders, ●easons, and to Civil wars.  
Fair Greece she first exsposed to Turkish pride.  
The Moors from Africa, she to Spain did guide.  
The Lombard's she brought into Italy.  
And on the cheeks of France, and Germany,  
The bloody Characters are to be red,  
The baleful sluttes, that Discord there hath bred.  
Nor doth Apollo any Climate see,  
That from her malice, hath been always free:  
Then from your breasts, drive that Echidna dire  
(O brave Praetorian band) and wi●h the fire  
Of sacred love; do Envy's eyes out-seare:  
And from soul Slanders mouth, her tongue out tear  
Let friendship b●nish all debate, and strife,  
And give your excercise both strength, and life.  
Nor let my gentle Muse alone inspire,  
loves sweet consents, but filled with that pure fire.  
Which Phoebus lends his imps, let her high fits,  
Move noble hearts (as time and place permits)  
To learn this Art of order, and to know  
Their Ranks, and Postures perfectly; for now  
Monstrous abuses routed have the age;  
And Knavery rides in Knighthood's equipage:  
Few keep their Ranks; yet in the front stalkes-pride  
And always takes the right-hand file beside:  
Sheeleadeth on the forlone hope, and will  
(Though she to Hellgate march) be foremost still.  
Great evils, with great honours be combined  
And ma●ch like Pikes, with Muskets interlined.  
Our Postures are French congees, and few can:  
Know Mounsieur, from an English Gentleman:  
So like are we to them, so frenchifyed  
In garbs and garment: but great God forbid,  
That our new ●angled change should ere declare.  
Such sad events, as did the Scimitar,  
Or King Darius: for his Sword alone,  
A sheath of Greekish fashion, did put on:  
And then his Magis cried, it was a sign,  
That he to Greece, his Empire should resign:  
But we ourselves, our gestures, and our swords,  
In French are dressed up; yea our very words,  
Have put on French dissimulation:  
O, blind, absurd, fond, foolish nation,  
That (light Chamaeleon-like) art what thou see'st;  
A painted Argos, of all gath'rings pieced.  
But are we all transformed to Wolves, and Apes?  
Do none retain those old Herculean shapes  
Of Virtue? yes: for God defend, that all  
Should be Lycanthropized; least heaven should fall,  
To stop up with her ruins, Sins blackeiawes,  
And crush oppressions unrelenting paws.  
No, no: (thanks be to our kinder Stars) yet lives  
That Vestal flame in many breasts, which gives  
Refreshing heat, to each good enterprise:  
These help old Atlas, to prop up the skies:  
These stand (like brazen Colossuses) unmoved  
By chance, or passion: these never loved  
Informing dogs; nor ere (to fill their purses)  
Herd Orphans cries, or Widows baleful curses.  
These near to any greatness did aspire;  
But Virtue: nor ere sought to be higher  
In fortune's favour, then in Gods these scan  
Worth, by defart, and though they truly can  
Make good their Gentry ●m my ways; sach ways,  
As now the baseness of the time betrays,  
As large demeanes, great place, or pedigrees,  
Yet these disdainning, that their worth should be  
Produced from smoky titles, or base poise,  
Or dust, and rotten bones, each from himself  
His worship, or his honour, doth derive;  
And by his proper actions doth descriue;  
A Gentleman: for Fortune can't inherit  
(By right) those graces, which pertain to merit:  
And wretched is that Gentry, which is gotten  
From their deeds, that long since be dead and rotten  
The savour of the Prince, and Fortune, arts,  
And Ancestry, are but the outward parts  
Of true Nobility, for her soul is,  
An harmony, of vert'ous qualities:  
But should we search the world (may some reply)  
From Cales, to Calicut, and sharply pry  
Both into University, and court;  
Traverse all Countries, and belay each port,  
We hardly should meet with so brave a wight.  
Yes, yes; such be they whose names to recite,  
My Muse is proud; nor ever shall these want  
Room in my Verses (be they ne'er so scant)  
For worth as well deserves a Panegyricke,  
As vice doth Satyrs, or a Thief a Diricke,  
Self-willed opinion is, mistaken far  
To deem, that noble virtue's praises are  
Smooth flatteries: and Envy is far wide,  
To think that any base end can guide  
A Poet's aims. Although we know those walks,  
Where Fortune upon heaps of ingots stalks,  
And see her golden Temple daily full  
O● sweeting Votaries: where Knave, and Gull  
Have access free; and though we well descry,  
What offerings she accepts most gratefully:  
Yet we her Altars shun, because we know,  
That many (which her favours buy) do own  
To justice such ha●d debts, that mercy's bail  
Will scarce be found, to save them from hell-Iayle  
Vain, foolish Men, although they plainly see  
All good is there, where grace and wisdom be,  
Yet they of Fortune, do a Goddess make,  
Advancing her to heaven, and for her sake,  
Dare plunge themselves into a fouler lake;  
Then Curtius did Rome's pestilence to sl●●ke●  
But (noble Gentlemen) ye that do hold  
Fair virtue, at a higher rate, than gold:  
Ye, whose affections scorn to serve the times,  
Whose sleeps rue not the harms, of forepast crimes,  
Whose names were near marked with the privy seal  
Of Fame, for p●lling of the commonweal:  
Ye, that (from City's tumult severed) know  
Those sweet contents, which from retirement flow  
Though not Tibe●●●●-like at Capri:  
For privacies, as oft the Midwives be.  
Of ●ls, as good: but ye reserve your leisures  
For nobler ends, then vain and flitting pleasures.  
Nor do the times bid us securely sleep,  
But rather warn us a strong guard to keep.  
The East look black with danger, and the South  
Seems to invade the North, with open mouth.  
Our beaten foes their forces now unite,  
Armed with dire misca●fe, rage, and fell despite.  
But Spain is poor, and weak (as some reply)  
Long Warns exhausted ●aue his treasury.  
The Netherlands: have drawn his Coffers dry  
Yet Indian mines (we answer) soon supply  
Those wants; for from the Western world doth come  
His Navy duly, fraught with treasure home.  
Nor is the War maintained by Austrian purses  
Alone: for somewhat beside Bulls and curses  
The Pope allows, and to the offering calls  
Many fat Priests, and well fed Cardinals,  
For whom (though ne'er so sparing) would stand by  
And, not help to root out a heresy.  
Another sort I hear speak better sense:  
And th●se rely on God's omnipotence:  
'tis true: his mercy only can us keep;  
But if we in our wickedness still sleep,  
And yet suppose that he shall us defend,  
We miserably err: what do protend  
Our foul prodigious sins, but death and war,  
Titanicke pride, that God to his face dares.  
Ramping Oppression, with her hundreth paws,  
Abusing to her private gain the laws.  
And Covetise, that with her swinish snout,  
Root●s up all goodness, to find money out.  
Soft handed sloth, spruce smiling Luxury,  
Dull Drunkenness, swolne-bellyd Gluttony,  
Unbridled ire, pale Envy, viperous hate;  
These are the Comets which do ominate  
The scourge of War; then 'tis t●me to repent,  
Lest we too late seek to shun the event.  
Last night, when sweet repose had closed mine eyes,  
Strange thoughts began my fancy to surprise:  
For the dull God of sleep, that hates the morn,  
And from his gate of ivory, and horn,  
Sends silent troops of dreams forth every night,  
Caused horrid Phobetor me to affright, 
Quid Meta. l. 1●   
In sundry shapes: me thought I was transported  
To a strange Land, such as is not reported  
By Munster, or old Sir john Mandevile.  
Nor know I (Certes) whether 'twere an Isle,  
Or parcel of the main; therein appeared  
Great Cities, Towns, and Towers, that seemed to beard  
The very clouds; and the soil seemed to be  
Exceeding fertile: for on every tree  
The pendant clustres hung, as fair to sight,  
As the Hesperian fruit: Grapes red, and white,  
Pomegranates, Lemons, Figs, and Oranges,  
With wondrous plenty, seemed the field to bless,  
Desiring then to see those happy men,  
That had so fair a Country, to dwell in,  
I to a City went, thinking to find  
The beautifullest race, of all mankind.  
(But there arrived) most strange 'tis to be told,  
What various forms of beasts, I did behold:  
Nothing like Man saw I there, but huge Ap●,  
And hairy Satyrs, greedy of foul rapes;  
Bulls, Buffles, Boors, fierce Tigers, Dragons, Dogs,  
Bears, Camels, Wolves, slow Asses, Horses, Hogs,  
And Monsters, such as Nilus never bred,  
Nor Africas foul deserts nourished,  
jueery street d●d clusters, o● e●ch han●,  
As thick as ●earme●t●d Gallants on the strand.  
All Birds of prey, and eke all vacleane fo●les,  
Did nestle there; fierce Eagle, Griffons, Owls,  
Fowl Ostriches, and Bats, I there descried;  
And earnestly their new guest all these eyed;  
That I sore fe●●'d their entertainment rough,  
And often wished myself thence far enough.  
While I stood thus amazed an Ape drew ●eare,  
Whose age did in his gulled f●●e appear.  
This was their Cives I owne-●a●ke, 〈◊〉 did seem,  
For he their only speak was I deem  
He with a low accost; thus did me ge●te.  
Stranger (quoth he) I kiss thy happy teetes,  
That brought the● hither, where thou mayst drenke store  
Of richest draughts, that shall refresh thee more,  
Then strong Nepenthe; and make thy wits quicker  
Than can Lyae●●s, or the spiteful liquour,  
That jove, and all the Gods so freely swilled,  
The merry night ensuing 〈◊〉, field.  
Nor let our various shapes, make thee disdain  
Our kind society (my gentle swain)  
For although we▪ th● shapes of beasts do show,  
Yet we retain the minds of men, and know  
Thrice more content than they: Our Land is cleped  
Fair Polytheria, where great Circe kept  
Her cou●t of ●ore: Circe that awful Queen,  
The daughter of the Sun●e, who of● was seen  
To change midday, to midnight, and to cause  
Aestivall Snowes and break the viper's jaws.  
To drive a river back, to his spring head,  
To make Seas stand unmoved, and to strike dead  
The harvest ear; her cup and wand so mighty,  
Which made the Fiend's obey her great Venite,  
We stlil reserue● nor do we deem the race,  
Whereof we are derived our meanest grace:  
From that victorious ancestry we grow,  
That did fair Asia's glory overthrow,  
In Troy's great ruins: nor were these (I swear)  
The base sort, but such as consorts were  
Of great Ulysses, on whose name still sticks  
The honour of Troy's fall, nor need we fix  
Our worth alone on a bare pedigree;  
Our actions show what our deservings be;  
Which ye men partly know, and must confess,  
That we have sent you succour, in distress.  
Here was the Ram bred, that did bring  
Great 
a Cum Liber Pater per desertum Libyae excercitum du●eret & sit● admod●●m laboraret; implo●ass● ae Patra anxiliu● dicatur; Quo sacto app●●uisse e● e●templ● Ar●ote●; quidu● sugientem persequitur, per●enisse atle dust ●a fontem amaenissimum. Al● terraati●t●pedae concussa fomtem exil●sse tradun● Plin. l. 6.  Liber Pater's Army to the spring,  
When they in Africkes' deserts were tormented  
With scorching thirst. Those white 
b A●●eresnon se●ellere, quibus sacr● junoni ●● summa ●noppa ●ibi tamen abstinebatur, quae ressalut●su●t, ●anque c'angore ●orui●, alar●mque crep●tu ex●●tus. M. Manlius, &c T. ●iu lib ●  Geese the prevented  
The Gauls from taking of the Capitol  
Were some of us. And that pied Memphian 
c Vide Alexand a● Ale●and spar●●am. Marc.  Bull,  
For whom the Egyptians fell at deadly jars  
Was ours. 
d Vide ●. Valeria, de fic●a●elig.  Sertorius in his Spanish wars,  
Sou●ht counsel of our Hind. The Ass  
Of Apulciu●; and the 
e Bo●locut●●; Romaca●e ●ibi. Liu. li. 35.  Ox that was  
Herd speak at Rome. The Epidaurian 
f Vide Plin. l. ● Ovid Me●. 1●. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Sab●●i ca●i●. Aves a Pjaphone edo●ae ●●qui; Mag●●s Deus ●sapho. M. V●●  Snake;  
And Dog that died for his dear Master's sake  
Were bred with us. The Cobbler's prating Daw;  
And Isapho's Birds did here their first air draw;  
And so did Mahomet's tame Pigeon,  
That holp to found his new religion.  
I could tell later pranks, till I were hoarse,  
Of Willoughbbyes black Cat, and Banks his horse;  
This place (I tell thee) is the only Cell,  
Where arts enlinked with rich content do dwell.  
And that thi●e eye may witness what I say;  
Here follow me: then he leads me away.  
Unto a Castle, whose high towered brow  
Did check the winds, and seemed to over-crow  
The clouds: there Lions, Tigers, Panther's sweet,  
As tame as fawning Spaniels did us meet.  
Then to a spacious Hall we came, that stood  
On pillars of tough Brass; nor stone, nor wood  
Were seen in it; and there I pleased my sight  
With the Picture of the Dulychian Knight:  
Eurylochus, and he whose brains were washed  
So well with Wine, that life and wits were cashed  
Were Pictured there, and many a Greek beside  
That with Ulysses there did long abide.  
Fair was the stuff, but thrice more fair the art,  
That there was to be seen in every part.  
While I admired here what mine eyes beheld,  
The Ape brought me a cup with wine up filled  
And bids me drink't; that then I might find grace  
To see things far more rare, in that fair place.  
I in my trembling hand received the cup,  
That was of Gold, and drank the liquour up:  
Then soon the poison's force did touch my brain,  
And through my body crept in every vein:  
And while my case I thought to have deplo●'d,  
Thinking to speak my griefs, aloud I roared:  
My hands (I saw) were changed to grisly paws,  
My clothes to shaggy hairs; with yawning jaws  
My mouth did gape; and I perceived my shape  
Was like a Lions: then began the Ape  
With gentle words, to cure my discontent.  
Good friend (quoth he) thou shalt thee not repent  
Of thy arrival here; though thou hast lost  
Thy former shape, and feature, be not crossed:  
For shrouded in this shape, thou shalt obtain  
More knowledge, than did ever mortal gain.  
Then by long winding stairs, and walks he drew me,  
Unto a spacious room, where he did show me,  
The 
a Vide Art●tel. De Magia.  Book, the Gem, and Magic horn, all which  
If any man can get, he shall be rich,  
Long-lived, a King, and fortunate,  
Yea what he will: the Rings of Polycrate,  
Of happy Gyges', and wise 
b Vide Cornel●● Agripp. Deoccult. Philos. li. ●. cap. 27.  jarchas; and  
The Sword of Paracelsus, with the wand  
Of Circe, and the root 
c Vide C. Plin. secun. l 30. ca 2.  Osirides,  
With Zoroastres his Ephemerideses;  
And those mysterious books which taught great 
d Romanieux Sibyll●●s libris edocti se dominos mundi inflituerunt. Arb.  Rome  
To make the World obey her awful doom;  
These and an hundred things as strange, beside  
The Ape did show me; also there I spied  
Lopez his poison, in a Glass of Crystal;  
Ravillacs bloody Knife, and Parries Pistol:  
But looking into a dark hurne aside,  
I Mattocks, Spades, and Pickaxes descried,  
With Powder barrels, heaped up altogether:  
Then did the Ape me lead, I know not whether:  
But many slayers deep, I am sure we went;  
That Hell's dark way so steep as this descent,  
I ween is not: at last a gloomy cell  
We came unto, that seemed as black as Hell,  
But for the Torches which there daily burned:  
Such is the Cell, where (when the Pope's envrned)  
The Fathers meet, to find another fool.  
Fit for the trial, of the 
a Proph●ria cathedra qu〈◊〉 Pontifex continud at eyes ●reat●one residet 〈◊〉 redented genitalia ab ●ltimo Discono attrecteniur. Sab●llicus.  porphyre stool.  
This was their Counsel-house, where in they sat  
Discussing matters, that belonged to state:  
Mischiefs, and treasons, war conspiracies,  
False treaties, stratagems, confederacies,  
Were here hatched and now hence was coming forth,  
A plot against the Lions of the North,  
The subtle Dragon, 
b The Aims of the ancient Kings of France were Trees crapaux satu●ne, in a Field Sol. Guil.  and the Griffon fierce  
That seeks the Empire of the Universe:  
The Eagle, and the Toad, were here assembled;  
To hear whose bloody projects, my heart trembled  
Against the Northern Lions they were bend,  
To use all cruelty, and punishment,  
For wrongs late done: the Dragon fell doth cry  
theyare Heretics, and therefore aught to die.  
The Griffon swore, 'twas not to be allowed,  
That Luth'rane should their heads in this world shrowded  
The Eagle wished, he never might be blessed,  
If ere he spared a filthy Caluinist.  
The spiteful Toad did wish his bones might rot,  
If e●e he meant to save a Huguenot.  
The Dragon much did praise their readiness,  
And promised that the action be would bless,  
And vowed he would be liberal of his crosses  
To those brave souls, that durst adventure losses  
Of lives, or limbs, in that designment; and  
If any chanced to fall, he would command  
The Angels to transport him presently  
To heaven, without a Purgatory.  
But that the world might not their malice sent,  
They meant to cast out tales, that their intent  
Was to give to Religion, her first grace  
And purity: thus with a painted face  
They masked their devilish end. While I gave ear  
To their damned counsels; I felt a new fear:  
For from beneath I heard an hideous found,  
As it some Earthquake dire had cleft the ground  
Or Hell herself approach to make one,  
In their mischievous consultation.  
So Neptune scourged with the Northwind roars:  
Such is the clangour, of a thousand oars  
Falling at once upon the surging wave:  
The Witches in their conventicles have  
Such Music, as was this for 'twas the noise  
Of the infernal powers, that did rejoice,  
To see that Hellish-plot contrived, and wrought,  
That might bring all the world again to naught.  
With such obstrep'rous sounds, my sense they struck,  
That I sleeps gentle fetters then off shook.  
Nor is our danger but a dream (I fear)  
So many signs presaging it, appear.  
For what can we expect, but sturdy blows,  
From our combined exasperated foes.  
Then high time 'tis fresh courage for to broach  
When pale-faced death, and ruin seems t'approach.  
(Brave Gentlemen) learn to be prodigal  
Of blond; fear naught that may befall  
But insamie; meet death in any shape,  
And grapple with black danger, though he gape  
As wide as Hell: know that this life of yours  
Is but a breath, or blast, or like May's flowers  
Yet never is prized at so high a rate;  
As when 'tis nobly lost: then animate  
Yourselves with brave example, and shanne not  
That Fate, which our late worthy heroes got,  
With endless fame to boot. Yea let Spain know.  
And never think on't, but with horror; how  
We children are to those, that did defeat  
Their great Armada; and them often beat  
A broad, and eke at home, and let proud France  
Reueiw those times, when her Wars did advance  
Our English Gentlemen. Let that black day  
Of Agincourt, 
Anno Do. 1●87. Charles 6. with a Neuie of ●● co. sail, threatened to invade England, having provided such store of Munition & strange engines, as the like was seldom heard of.  with terror still dismay  
Her half-dead trembling heart; nor ever let her  
Expect success, or any fortune better  
Against us: twice with two numerous Armies she  
Did England threat; yet durst but once scarce see  
Our pale Cliffs, with her paler looks, and then  
Turned stern, and cowardly ran home again:  
If she the third time, should attempt the like,  
Let the like fears her heart appall, and strike.  
But (what soever betide) 'tis meet that we  
Should stand upon our guard, 
Anno Do. 1545. The French with an A●mie of 60000, men came for England; but 〈◊〉 their entertainment 〈◊〉 prove too h●te, saintly and friendly they went ● me again.  and ever be  
Prepared, both to make good, our own defence,  
And strike our foes: but since experience  
Is thought our greatest want there must be found  
A medicine to apply to that deep wound,  
Which Discipline is called; this whole some cure  
Ye Gentlemen must often put in ure;  
Ye, that have charge of Bands, your duty 'tis  
To train them up, with frequent exercise.  
Nor by your mustering once, or twice a year,  
Do ye discharge your duties, but I fear  
If foreign foes should drive us to our fence,  
We all should suffer for your negligence.  
'tis rather sitting, that each Month should yield  
A day, to draw your Soldiers to the field.  
For our tough Husbandmen, on whom depends  
Our chiefest strength, so mind their proper ends,  
That they to wield their Arms have soon forgot,  
If often exercise enures them not.  
These with their Bows, of stiff, and trusty Yew  
The Cavalry of France oft overthrew.  
And in one Month more spoil, and Conquest won  
Then they had thought could in a year be done.  
But now the fiery weapons have cashiered  
Those ancient Arms, that made our name so feared  
Through all the World, nor hath ease so decayed  
Our courage, or our nerves, but by the aid  
Of Discipline, we may retrieve that Fame,  
Which we so lately lost; and raise a name,  
That may our bragging foes a fresh dismay,  
More than the name of Spinola doth fray.  
Our women, or our women-hearted men.  
Nor do I that old Genoveses contemn:  
He dares do much, where we dare not oppose:  
He Conquers all, especially lean foes:  
If they be fat, they are not for his diet,  
He rather an whole twelvemonth had lie quiet;  
Till they be famished to his hand: what though,  
He to his fellow Genewayes doth own  
Large sums; his Master will pay all tick-tack,  
If the Plate fleer comes home without a wrack,  
When that the Town is won: what Town? Bred●  
By whom was't won? by Marquis Spinola.  
I scarce believe't: then go and see; for there.  
Upon the gate in scul'pture doth appear  
The memory of that famous enterprise.  
How won't he; by assault or by surprise!  
No: by a famine. In what space? a year,  
Wanting two months. What force had he there?  
Twice twenty thousand men. Then there he spent,  
More than he got. ay, that's most evident.  
Yet much renown he had. ay, that or naught,  
Though it at a dear rate-King Philip bought.  
But if Don Ambrose may of Conquest boast,  
For taking in the Town, with so much cost,  
And time, and loss; then what did Heraughtere  
Deserve; that in one night accomplished clear,  
A Conquest more complete, with seventy men;  
Then he so strong, and so long space could win.  
As when the cunning Foresters have placed  
Their wel-woven toils, and herds of wild beasts chased  
Into their snares; yet daring not invade  
The furious herds, with boar-spear or with blade,  
For fear of their cell ire; with a strong guard  
They them surround, and keep them thus upbarrd,  
Till pinching famine makes them faint and weak;  
And then at will their teen on them they wreak.  
Thus was Breda by Spinola obtained,  
Sharp famine, not his force, the City gained.  
Oftend to-ruines turned, he won at last  
For Phoebus through the Zodiac thrice had past,  
Yet still the Town held out: some others prate  
Of his Acts done in the Palatinate,  
Where few were to resist: yet this is he  
That's thought invincible; although we see  
His base retreat from Bergen did well show  
That he may meet his match sometimes. 'tis true:  
Yet 'tis not good to think our strength so great,  
That he dares not against us work some feat.  
Our craggy Cliffs, we ought not to trust to;  
Whose huge Enclosures bound our Hand so.  
Ambition dares the roaring billows pass;  
Of force to rain towers of lasting brass;  
Whose cankered rage we must meet face to face  
With Spartan hearts (for so requires our case)  
Since for defence we have no Walls of stone,  
Our surest guard must be our Walls of bone.  
And ye, our unkind brethren that affect  
The fair term of Catholic in respect  
Of your Religion, 
Apo● repl●. to our Papists.  and with that name,  
Contend in vain, to hide your mother's shame;  
Your Mother Rome, that famous Paramour  
Of Kings, and Princes, that need Hellebore.  
She (like Semiramis) is wont to kill  
Her Lovers, when of Lust she hath her fill.  
Ye that beneath an English face, do hood  
A Spanish heart, preferring foreign good,  
Before your England's health; always in hand,  
Upon the ruins of your native land,  
To build Spain's Monarchy, and make that Prince  
A Catholic in Empire, that long since,  
Was only feigned in faith to be the same.  
But trust ye not the talk of flattering fame.  
That tells you Spain is merciful, and just,  
Not led by ill desire, or any lust  
Of domination, to set footing here,  
Lest his false play too soon to you appear,  
And ye too late your follies see: let not  
Utopian joys your judgements so besot,  
To make you think that change of Government, 
The Duke of M●d●●a General of the Spanish Forces in 88 said that his sword should not make any difference between Papist or Protestant, so he could make way for his Master to the Conquest of the Island.   
Produceth the most absolute content:  
Trust not Spain's glosses, but rather conceit  
What proud Medina said in eighty eight.  
Spain for Religion fights (as he pretends)  
But spoil, and Conquest, are his mainest ends.  
When Paris had stolen his light Minion,  
No less than fifty Kings combined in one,  
Protested, that for this disgraceful rape,  
Troy should not their severell vengeance scape:  
Yet was not just revenge the chiefest end  
Of their design (whatsoever they did pretend)  
For each sought to get Helen for a wife,  
And this indeed was cause of so much strife.  
Even so your Patron of Castille protests,  
That he his Arms puts on, for a redress  
Of holy Churches wrongs; when he naught less  
Intends; setting Religion for a stale,  
To catch the Empire of the West withal.  
Believe it, Conquest is his certain end;  
To which, he doth by direst mischiefs tend;  
To that through Seas of guiltless blood he wades,  
Cutting his passage out with murdering blades:  
Or like Hamilcar's son, 
S●●at Hannibal ●e● Al●s. L●u.  with flames of fire,  
And Vinegar, makes way for his desire.  
(England subdued) could ye hope to stand by  
Secure spectators of the Tragedy:  
No, no: though for a time ye might be free,  
Your lives should make up the Catastrophe.  
This p●●●ledge perhaps ye might obtain,  
That is, to be the last that should be slain.  
Then join with us; be not so impious,  
To stand against your Country's Genius,  
Let us together join, with hearts upright,  
The which shall pray, while our hands ply the fight.  
Strive not (like Phartons' jades) to overthrow  
Your Master, lest ye also fall as low.  
Attempt not to unbarre your Country's gate  
To foreign foes, lest ye repent too late  
Your treachery, for be assured that none  
Did ever Traitors love (the Treason done.)   

A Threnode  
¶ Upon the Death of those two Honourable Gentlemen, Sir JOHN BURROWS, late Lieutenant of the English infantry in the I'll of Ree, and Sir WILLIAM HEYDON, Leiutenant of the Ordinance.  

THe thousand Torchbearers of Io●e,  
Which mightily to his Bed him light,  
Where juno entertains his love,  
With merry glee and sweet delight;  
Were scattered all about the sky,  
That seemed of a Saphires die.   

All Creatures were at silent rest;  
Except those wights, whose musing hearts,  
Some extreme passion did infest,  
And they were playing then their parts.  
The Thief was plodding on his way,  
But softly; lest the Dogs should bay.   

True lovers (whom the day divorced  
From sweet discourse) now met and kissed:  
The Witches on their wands were horsed,  
And Luna on their Herbs down pissed:  
Nor had the Cock yet stretched his throat  
With his all cheering early note.   

But 'twas the time, when Morpheus dull  
From his two Portals, sendeth out  
His dreams, that fill men's fancies full  
With fond conceit, and fearful doubt,  
Then I upon my Pillow laid,  
With dreary thoughts was much dismayed.   

A strange appearance my mind struck;  
Me thought I was in Forrest wide,  
And near unto a Crystal brook,  
Upon whose green banks I deseryed  
A goodly Lady much distressed,  
(As by her woeful ●light I guest)   

A Mantle green she seemed to wear,  
Which by a curious hand was wrought:  
Towns, Rivers, Mountains were seen there,  
And what is in a Lan●chap sought:  
And all the workmanship most fice,  
A wavie border did confine.   

Upon her doleful brows was set  
A stately Crown, that did appear  
Like to that towered Coronet,  
Which Cybele was wont to wear.  
The Roses from her cheeks were fled,  
Her tresses were dish●ue●ed.   

With tears her eyes beblubberd were,  
Lamenting sat she on the grass●:  
And l'gan to approach her near,  
To find the cause of her sad pass;  
A dreary spectacle than struck  
My throbbing neart, that for fear shook.   

For by her side there lay two wights,  
Whose cheeks were marked with deaths pale brand,  
Who seemed t'have been right goodly Knights,  
Though now they lay low on the Strand,  
As if they by 〈◊〉 fate;  
Had been brought to that wretched ' state.   

For one was gored with grisly wound,  
From whence the blood a fresh flowed out,  
Which cruddling on the gelid ground,  
Did cover all the grass about,  
The Lady for him sore did weep,  
And with her tears his wound did steep.   

The other Knight all won and pale,  
With water seemed all to besmeared:  
The drifting drops full thick did fall,  
From his bright locks, and m●nly beard,  
As if that Neptune had him 〈◊〉,  
And cast upon the shore again.   

Disdain was fixed upon his brow,  
As if he yielding up his breath,  
Had scorned that fate which made him bow:  
But 'twas his luck to drink his death.  
While I beheld this sight forlorn,  
The Lady'gan afresh to mourn.   

And with Pearle-dropping eyes upreard  
Unto the glistering sky; thus spoke:  
Ye awful Gods that oft have heard  
The vows, and prayers which I did make,  
Upon whose Altars I have left,  
The spoils that from my foes were rest.   

What great offence of mine hath moved  
Your hearts to such impatientire,  
To kill those Knights, whom I best loved,  
Whose service I did most desire.  
O fading hopes, o false delights,  
O joy more swift than Summers' nights.   

(Burrowes) thy valour was a flower,  
Whom lightning dire at length did strike,  
Though it had borne off many a shower.  
(Heydon) thy worth was Aprill-like,  
Which had it a fair May beheld,  
Such flowers had showed, as near did field.   

Or like a sturdy Ship of War,  
(Brave Burrowes) was thy manly might,  
Which vessel had been famous far,  
For fair success in furious fight,  
Whose sides at last a Canon gored,  
And then the deeps her bulk devoured.   

And to a Ship in all her ruff,  
New set a float was Heydon like;  
Whose the Tritons took in snuff,  
And under Water did her strike.  
Thus do the greatest goods slit fast;  
Some soon, some late; but all at last.   

Ye Sisters that in darkness lie,  
Removed far from mortal eyen,  
Where ye that fatal distaff ply,  
From whence is drawn Man's vital twine.  
What various fates have ye assigned,  
To these my Knights, so like in mind.   

Sweet honours thirst my Burrowes called  
To foreign lands, to seek for fame;  
Where he with courage, unappalled,  
Great toils, and dangers over-came.  
There vanquished he base fortunes might  
Grief, Sickness, Age and all despite.   

Himself in Ostend be engaged,  
Where Death with Funerals was wearied.  
Though Pestilence, and Pellets raged,  
Yet he nor wounds nor sickness feared.  
The noble heart more constant grows.  
When great peril itself shows.   

In Frankendale he did oppose  
The conquering troops, of Tilly stout  
Whom he repulsed with bloody blows,  
And longer might have kept them out,  
If it had been his Sovereign's will  
That he the Town should have kept still.   

His latter Scenes he played so well,  
So sweet was his Catastrophe:  
That Fame shall never cease to tell  
His worth unto posterity,  
Who shall his name among these read,  
That for their Country's cause are dead.   

At length he fell: so falls at last  
The Oak that many storms hath stood:  
From pain to Paradise h● past,  
And won his bliss with loss of blood.  
Then let his bones soft lodging have;  
And let sweet flowers spring on his grave.   

But my dear Heydon I lament,  
As doth the tender mother mourn  
For her young son, untimely shent,  
That was to some great Fortune borne:  
The cruel Fates conspired his death,  
When first he drew an Infant's breath.   

O, Froward Fate that giv'st good parts,  
Yet dost envy men should them show.  
So chance to many, goods in parts,  
But grace to use them, unto few.  
(Ay me) that Death the greatest ill,  
Should greatest virtues always kill.   

Grim Mars, and Mercury did sit  
As Lords, at thy Nativity.  
Mars gave the valour, Hermes wit;  
But both an woeful destiny.  
They at thy worth repined my Knight  
And did cut short thy life for spite.   

Even as moist Zephyre powers down fast  
His showers on the new-sprouted rose,  
That it her blossoms soon doth cast,  
And all her fragrant odour lose:  
So Heydon in his prime was struck;  
Betimes his vigour him forlooke.   

Accursed ever be that I'll  
That bears the holy Bishop's name,  
Which did me of my Knights beguile:  
Let war and spoil, ne'er leave the same  
Nor ever let the sorraine yoke  
Be from her servile shoulders broke.   

Let ghastly Ghosts frequent her plains,  
Let night hags there be heard to roar:  
Let Siren's dire with dreary streams,  
Make Saylors shun that baleful shore.  
Let thunder strick their Vines amain.  
By thunder was my Burrowes slain.   

And let those deeps, that guilty are  
Of Heydons' blood, be turned to shelves,  
That them t'approach no ships may dare,  
For fear to cast away themselves.  
O let ten thousand ills betid  
Those places, where my worthies died.   

(This said) a grievous sigh she drew,  
As if her heartstrings would have split;  
And on the earth herself she threw;  
That for to see her piteous fit,  
The Dryads wept, the Satyrs loured,  
And water Nymphs their tears forth poured.   

The Trees did sigh, the Hills did groan  
The bubbling Brook did sob a main,  
And Echo made a piteous moan,  
That I could not from tears refrain.  
The Birds with her incomfort joined,  
And sought in vain to ease her mind.   

The Nightinggale, on withered brakes,  
These dreary threnodes forth did power:  
Wealth, beauty, strength (quoth she) Time takes;  
And Death approacheth every hour.  
But Virtue endless life imparts.  
Then live for ever (noble hearts.)   

The Swan moved with her plaints drew near,  
And thus began to sing his last:  
No settled state of things is here;  
Our lives, our joys are but a blast.  
But Suns that set fair, so shall rise:  
O happy Death; and so he dies.   

The Turtle true with heavy cheer,  
Sobbed forth her mournful Elegies  
O Death (said she) that slu'st my dear,  
Now bo●st not of thy Victories:  
Thy pains are joys, thy darts are cures  
Thy wounds are life, that always dures.   

I had but heard her ditty out,  
When that the Cock whose Sants bell clear  
Should call men's hearts to thoughts devout.  
Made me from sleep my eyes to rear,  
Upon my dream I mused then;  
And when day came, it down did pen.   
FINIS.   

Upon the death of Sir RALPHE SHELTON.  
I Am what, passion will: a stone, or tree:  
A mad Hercuba, or sad Niobe.  
For who can see such ruins, and not feel  
A marble chillness creep from bead to heel:  
Like sad Electra that could not abide  
To see Troy Vrned; but her pale face did hide.  
Or Phoebus-like that brooks not to behold  
The Thyestaean dainties, but did fold  
His head in Pitchy clouds, so loathes my eye  
To be spectator of this Tragedy;  
Wherein, thou Shelton no mean person wert,  
And didst so to the life well act thy part  
That we lament thy exit, and give thee,  
Sad sighs, instead of a glad plaudite.  
Yet shall not grief so prejudice thy worth,  
But same shall sing aloud thy praises forth  
To check the pride of France; who in thy fate,  
Lost three for one: it at so dear a rate  
Thou sold'st; yet was is cheap to them (I swear)  
Out valuing more lives, than they bade there.  
Thy life, and death were fatal both alike  
To France: first in a Duel didst thou strike  
French bravery down; and boldly trodst upon  
The dusty Plumes, of that proud Champion,  
That durst thy valour tempt: with thine own hands,  
Thou paidst thy own revenge; which ever stands  
Huge Columne-like, to countercheck the pride  
Of France, and show how bravely Shelton died.