THE MUSES-TEARES FOR THE LOSS OF THEIR HOPE; HEROICK AND NE'RE-TOO-MVCH praised, HENRY, Prince of Wales. etc.  
Together with TIMES Sobs for the untimely death of his Glory in that his Darling: and, lastly, his Epitaphs.  
CONSECRATED To the high and mighty Prince, Frederick the fifth, Count-palatine of Rhine. etc.  
whereunto is added, Consolatory STRAINS to wrest NATURE from her bent in immoderate mourning; most loyally, and humbly wished to the KING and queen's most excellent MAJESTIES.  
BY JOHN DAVIES of Hereford, their majesties poor Beadsman, and Vassal.  
AT LONDON, Printed by G. Elder, for john Wright; and are to be sold at his shop near Christ-Church Dore. 1613.   

THE MUSES-TEARES, for the high, Heroik, and never-too-much praised, HENRY, Prince of Wales, etc.  
THe HAND of heaven (as quick, as it is strong,  
And moves this ALL, to all it moves unto:)  
Hath turned our hopes, to fears, (and griefs among)  
In his Life's LINE, which it did late undo.  
Princely-perfection being past the prime,  
And, near the highest growth (O dismal turn!)  
Is turned into the Root, this Wintertime,  
Never to retire till GOD in Flesh return!  
He, upon whom the Nations Eyes were bend  
As on a most auspicious blazing- Star  
Is now extinguished; yet, the light he lent,  
Foreshowed he would have thundered loud, in War▪  
For, in his Ears no music sweet did sound,  
But Trumpets, Drums, and Fifes: and, at his meat,  
(While they did others hearing but confound)  
They solaced his; and made his stomach great!  
Th'expertest Fortifier, and Engineer  
He sought; who taught him either skill, so young,  
That he his Teachers taught: so, did appear  
Too ripe, too soon, to last (so ripe) too long!  
And, in all exercise of Arms he was  
Unmatched by any of his years: For, He  
Past subjects so, as he did subjects pass,  
In Birth, Mind, Virtue, Glory, and Degree!  
The Doing-Horse (all Eyes can witness it)  
He made much more than Do: yet; sat so sure  
As they (but where are they that so can sit?)  
That back the wildest Beasts, yet, sit secure!  
In few; no Feat of such Activity  
As graced Action, and the Actor too,  
But it (with most admired Agility)  
He did past all that best, so young, could do!  
With Arts and Letters he so stored his MIND  
That both knew all therein, ere Youth could know:  
So, Art and Nature were as Cursed, as Kind,  
To Cleave so to him, and to Leave him so!  
His Spirit and Body were at endless strife  
Which should be Actiu'st in all Princely Parts:  
For, both were full of Grace, as full of Life;  
Both which win Glory, with both Hopes, and Hearts!  
That active Spirit his Meditations raised  
Above the Sphere of GREATNESS; that doth rise  
From those Perfections that do perish praised,  
To seek PERFECTION praised; and never dies!  
And, like a Soul (that nought on Earth can fill)  
Seeking for al-suffizing Aliments,  
Still mounts above herself (in Mind, and will)  
Till she hath found what fully her contents:  
So, his rare Soul, (being ever on her Wings,  
Soon cloyed with whatsoe'er the Earth holds dear)  
Sought to suffice her with eternal Things;  
Which made her stay so much the shorter here!  
The World could not contain her; not as He  
To whose ambition Earth's Rotundity  
Seemed but an Angle: no; but She did flee  
The World, and such vain Pride; yet, fled more high!  
She fled to Him whose centre's every where,  
And Circled nowhere: for, true Eaglet, She  
On justice SON (her Eyes being strong, as clear)  
Still loved to look, to show her Dignity!  
But, while She kept within her Prison-walls  
(Or jail of Flesh) She, through the windows, saw  
To all that in Discretions Compass falls;  
And, ordered all that All by Reasons Law.  
His Servants so he swayed (and that alone,  
Himself being under Tutors) as appeared  
That they were governed by some Solomon;  
For which he was no less Beloved, than Feared.  
Reward and Punishment (being as the weights  
By which our Horologe of life is moved)  
Fell ever through Him (from Celestial Heights)  
On none, but whom true virtue loathed, or loved!  
If then, his Private in such order stood,  
How had the public done when he had swayed?  
They had been like for Grace, in likelihood;  
And (for our Common-good) as Good, as staid!  
The Highest all good things hath in Essence still;  
Ill, in his Vnderstanding-pow'r; but Man  
Hath good things by Intelligence; but ill  
He hath in Essence: for, no Good he can!  
But He, whose goodness ravished him from hence,  
Was Good, in Nature; by his BEING, blest:  
But Ill he had but by Intellingece;  
Which he, with Grace, corrected, being best!  
Some Kings are more than Men in their belief;  
But, in their lives such Beasts as never lived:  
The chief Offenders than, are oft the CHIEF:  
But this, Beloved, lived well, and well believed!  
The Simile twixt God and Man is such,  
That God is said to be immortal Man;  
And Man a mortal God: He was so much;  
Whose want we wail much more than sorrow can.  
His Princely looks composed so rarely were  
Of venerable gravity and grace,  
That one did Love provoke, the other fear;  
And both, in one, still show'd a sacred Face!  
His Ire was temperate, sith he knew so well  
How ill 'twas in Warm Fortunes to be hot;  
Sith, like great Ruins, those it quite doth quell  
On whom it falls; and, lights on equal Lot!  
It is to rash; (and so must needs offend)  
To do aught well: For, it cures ill with ill:  
Then, to refer a Vice to Ire to mend,  
Is Vice to cure by Vice (outrageous) still.  
Great Minds in Choler, should be ever like  
The highest Planets, that are slowest moved;  
And never use (how ever moved) to strike,  
Till they indulgent means have thoroughly proved.  
The fire of Ire, that from cold fear proceeds  
Provokes the Subject, put past fear, in hate  
To make attempts (although for it he bleeds)  
To free his fear, that makes him desperate.  
Nor is he quiet kept, to keep him low,  
(As some affirm) for every hope that gives,  
Lest like-li-hood to raise his overthrow,  
Under new Lords, for such he plots, and strives.  
Then as from love proceeds a State more sure,  
(Though moderate) so, that that comes from fear,  
Although more absolute, doth less endure:  
For fear, grown des'prate, it will overbear.  
For, Cruelty from Cowardice doth spring,  
Sith still courageous Minds their force employ  
But on resisting foes; then he's no King,  
(But Tyrant) that but prostrate Friends destroys.  
It is a weakness of great Power, and Will,  
To love them lest that most they do offend:  
Whom Kings offend, they will offend them still;  
And, ne'er for-give th'offended till their end,  
But hate to see them; sith (perhaps) their sight  
But minds them of the wrongs they do them still:  
In this, this Gaullesse Prince took no delight,  
But did quite otherwise in Deed and Will! 
The Surgeons that embalmed, and emboweled him, found no Gaul at all in him, as it is confidently reported.   
Ambition, (the Souls Shirt, sith that's the Vice  
She last puts off) no more transported his  
Than Caesars was with glories avarice;  
For, his Ambition wholly aimed, at This!  
King's should have innocency Columbine,  
To do no more than harmless Creatures should;  
With which they should have Wisdom Serpentine,  
To do no less than Circumspection would:  
And ever, with the wakefull'st Will and Wit,  
To stretch their power beyond their power (though great)  
But only for the publike-benefit,  
For which they smell most sweet, when most they sweat!  
A Prince that ties himself himself unto  
Doth much mistake himself: For, he's not his;  
Nor, is the STATE his: but, he still must do,  
As if he were the STATES: for, so he is.  
From Benefits, come Obligations: and,  
From such more such: and, so 'tis Sire, and Son,  
Effect, and Cause; Yet still doth, moving, stand  
In Will and Power of Natures, like the Sun.  
Such was this Prince, who looked with watchful Eyes  
To all that might with State, in Time, have stood:  
He awed the Great, and (justly, most precise)  
Discount'nanced such as Greater were than good.  
For, such as willbe Sheep, the Wolf devours:  
Then, sheepish Kings must flee all Beasts of prey,  
Or keep Presumption down in subject powers,  
Lest long connivence make it long for sway.  
Contempt t'a Prince, more dangerous is than hate:  
For, Hate, by fear, is held from bold Attempt:  
But, SCORN doth make it daring; then a STATE  
In danger stands, that stands, so, in Contempt!  
Lightnings put by with wind but of a Cap;  
And oft great STATES (that might the world commaned  
Fall with the smallest accidents that hap:  
Then, if Contempt they bear, they cannot stand.  
This made this Prince betimes to have an Eye  
To all that saw but how they high might grow  
By wrong and scorn of PRINCIPALITY,  
Sith well he knew they ill themselves did know.  
His Deeds did evermore exceed his words  
In Virtue, and Effect: nor, would He speak  
But still with Caution fit for sovereign Lords,  
Who know they bruise their Crowns, when Words they break!  
For Prince's safer Prisoners are, by far,  
Under their words almighty-binding power  
Than they are under strongest Bolt or Bar;  
Because their Words (like Gods) are ever sure!  
If otherwise, we cannot call them Gods  
(As God himself doth style them) if they be  
Unlike through that injustice; and (like Clods)  
Do nought but soil the seat of their Degree.  
No: Tongues, & Pens will wound their Names to death;  
Nay, past, sith past, sharp Tongues & Pens can give  
Them black Reproach: for, with their harmful breath,  
Their Vices die; but still their shames may live!  
For, seeing justice cannot touch their lives,  
Its reason it should touch their Names (to nought)  
For fear whereof a TITUS often strives:  
To be not what he is, but what he ought!  
For, it is hard to play an Aftergame  
Of Reputation well: or, not to lose  
By every cast, though well we play the same,  
Sith all our Gain to our first Losses goes!  
But Virtue made our Heroes to preserve  
His Name from blemish; not these by-respects:  
He Virtue served, that so She Him might serve  
With fullest Glory void of all Defects.  
Not like the Stars (that yield but little light  
Because they are so high) with him it fared:  
But (like the Sun) was bright'st at greatest height;  
And still his Mind unto his Fortunes squared.  
BEING, without well Being, cursed is;  
And, so, the greater Being, the greater curse:  
But, he being Great, was ever blest in this  
That he did Grace, by Nature, kindly nurse!  
Nature in HIM, admired what she had wrought,  
At least she might, if She, (most wonderful  
Of things created) could admire at aught  
That's made good, great, stout, wise, and beautiful.  
He was the richest Trophy FORTUNE'S Power  
Could rear in HONOURS Theatre; for, still  
NATURE did dote on Him (her Bellamoure,  
Or Masterpiece) the Wonder of her skill!  
Beauty, TIMES flower, though delicate it be  
Yet soon it dies: so holds comparison  
With Phydias colours; which (though fair to see)  
Were blemished with each Breath that breathed thereon  
But that immortal beauty of the Mind  
Wherewith He was endowed, was so ingrained  
In his Souls Faculties, that by no wind  
Or blast of Envy, it can e'er be stained!  
No: He most strictly eyed his better Part;  
And in the Glass of Heavens eternal LAW  
Righted th' Apparel of his royal Heart  
As best became his FORM, which there he saw:  
For, no Man's Fortunes, nor his high renown  
Can possibly be worthy for his End;  
Which hath made Kings of Yore to quit their Crown,  
That they to better Ends might wholly tend.  
Life's but a Supposition, or Nonens;  
That's not perceptible; because it IS;  
Then, straight IS not, but by Intelligence;  
And, while it IS, it is but most amiss!  
Nothing is certain, but uncertainty  
Beneath the Moon; which varies like our Minds:  
For, Man's a Maze of Mutability,  
Wherein both Sin and Grace still turns, and winds!  
It's good to die than, yet we die; because  
A life too lively proves too deadly oft:  
He shoots not well that up his Arrow draws  
And eyes no Mark below, nor that aloft.  
But some misdo themselves, themselves to hide  
From cruel Fortunes most impetuous Blows:  
But never Kings, but Cowards, so have died;  
Yet Emper'ours (base, as bad) have been of those!  
It is an act of Charity to long,  
Ever to live for others good: than they  
That both to God and Nature do such wrong,  
(As hateful Monsters) seek their both decay!  
And some so long do live that they inter  
Their Glory ere they die; and die but when  
The World doth hate them deadli'st; or some War  
Takes them away; as Beasts, from civil Men!  
Yet, Life's but Bondage, were't not freed by Death;  
Nay, Life's a Sickness that so mortal is,  
That who so lives, must die: and strongest Breath  
Is not still longest; but, often more amiss!  
Life may be ta'en from Man, by any Man;  
But Death by no Man; none dare him abide:  
Nor, Power, nor Art, nor Love, Life lengthen can:  
For, if they could, this Prince had never died!  
Ye Isles, (whereof He was the Hope) with Fears  
Shake where ye stand; or with sighs shift your Clime;  
And be environed with a sea of Tears,  
Where never Sun may see the face of TIME!  
Or, settle else, where still his Beams may burn  
Our frozen Hearts; and, turn us all to Black;  
That e'en our Skins aswell as Hearts may mourn  
For him whose want turns all our comforts back.  
Black's but a mere Privation, and no Hue,  
As Darkness is of Light: that's fitt'st for us,  
Whom Griefs Cimmerian darkness doth subdue,  
Being quite deprived of Light of comfort, thus.  
The feeling- sense alone for mortal life  
Is necessary: but, the rest not so;  
For, Life may BE without them: then, let Grief  
And Sense to feel it, ne'er our lives forego!  
For Him that might the death of Grief have been  
Had Heaven not envied Earth his longer stay;  
But (ah) he grew so mellow, being green,  
That he, by nature, soon did fall away!  
With whom our Hearts are fallen; and with the fall,  
(On Craggy Cares) are swollen so full of woe  
That they can hardly hold: but, O, this ALL  
Is at this stay, that stays but falling so!  
What hold, or hope, or help is than, in ALL,  
But He that's All in ALICE? sith such a PROP,  
(So young, so strong, and sound, till he did fall)  
Is Feaver-shaken down from highness Top!  
Float heaviest Grief on Times eternal Tears  
T'a Deluge turned; and sink all joy therein:  
Float Grief to Death: sink joy to depth of fears;  
Sith, in the Haven, our hopes so sunk have been!  
So fail their hopes that hope, by Sin, for Grace:  
Heavens hate we urge; and yet (so, urge it more)  
We look for love: But, O, such Life, such ●●se!  
A desperate Salve, must cure a desperate SORE!  
We thought our CROWN so stayed with many Props  
(So Young, and strong) that no cold Puf of fear  
(How ever strong) could once but shake our Hopes,  
Which now this Blast doth reel, and backward bear!  
But yet to fear too much is to receive  
Ill fortunes ere they come; and, that is ill:  
Our fears aswell as hopes may us deceive:  
Than fear we so, as hope may hold us still.  
Fear bears Hope backward to a forward Stay;  
So forward, as we fear more going back,  
When in our Souls (besides) our Sins we weigh,  
Which threat (avert it Heaven) our utter wrack!  
But be; O be propitious, highest POWER,  
To us: and make our Royal PLANT to spring  
Unto that Greatness that may longest endure;  
And Branches bear, that may bear many a KING!  
But yet (O Death!) GRIEF will not leave us so;  
It turns again; and Passion (which doth swell,  
Say Reason what it will) will with us go  
Unto the Grave, which Heaven is to this Hell!  
Why from the Surgeon do we turn our Eye  
When, with his Probe, we see him search a wound,  
But that we know our Senses sovereignty  
Over our Reason, might us, with it, confound!  
Than, can we see the Hand of DEATH to gauge  
His HEART, (being ours; and so, through ours should go  
And not avert our Eyes, in ruthful rage?  
If so we can, we can be cruel so!  
But, O, we needs must see this dismal DEED,  
(At least in Mind) for which our Hearts are rend:  
The letting of him blood did make them bleed:  
For which we curse the CAUSE, and Instrument▪  
It is, almost, a Miracle to find  
A great, and lively Spirit well governed;  
But his rare Spirit (being such) did turn, and wind  
As the Physician still, it managed!  
Indifferent Spirits, for Rule, far better do  
Than Spirits too mighty, who are good for nought  
But to torment themselves, and others too:  
Yet His, being great, he ruled as he ought!  
The Spirit doth owe the Flesh a oblivion's care  
Not a Slaves service: for, if Flesh be free,  
'Twill make the Spirit but servile, base, and bare;  
But if the Spirit; the Flesh shall honoured be!  
And, look how when the Heart is sick, the HEAD  
And all the Members, of the grief have part,  
But never die, until the HEART be dead;  
So, HEAD and Members die with this our HEART!  
We die, though yet we move, with grief conceived  
For this his death; whose Life gave all our Parts  
Their lively motion; which they had received  
From his rare virtue, Life of all our Hearts.  
Nor can we (ah!) live otherwise than dead  
(Although, in Death, we live; or, lifeless plight)  
For him that gave us Heart; and Life, our HEAD;  
So live we now, without or Life, or Spirit!  
It is a kind of joy in case of moan  
Not to be single: Common-miserie  
(Though heaviest) lighter weighs on one alone,  
Then doth his private light adversity!  
As Peace is War to men impo'urisht grown;  
Who, in the total ruins of the STATE,  
Had rather be o'erwhelmed, than in their own;  
So, each man's Cross seems most unfortunate!  
But in our Case, it is not so, we see:  
For this our common loss so sad doth lie  
Upon our Souls, that nought can heavier be;  
Although it were, with torment, oft to die!  
Yet, 'tis highest Courage lowly to sustain  
The heaviest Plagues which for our sins are sent:  
And to be patient qualifies the pain;  
And, makes us, at the low'st, most excellent!  
But, to resist, rage, murmur, or complain,  
Is as effeminate as Men may do:  
Than to be subject so, is so to reign  
Kings of ourselves; and Saints with Angels too!  
Humility, of Men, doth Angels make;  
And Pride, of highest Angels, maketh Devils:  
In Pride, all Evils did beginning take:  
But, in Humility, release from Evils!  
weare borne to Sorrows: would we than be free?  
That were injustice: Than, we needs must bear  
The laws to which all Flesh must subject be,  
Unless we would above all Flesh appear!  
Our highest pleasures still do tend unto  
The deepest sighs: those Wrinkles of the face  
That serve for Laughing, serve for Weeping too;  
And, extreme Laughing sheddeth Tears apace!  
GREATNESS (as we mis-stile it) how e'er stout,  
And glorious too it be) is, as we prove,  
But like a Lightnings- flash soon in, and out  
Of Life and Light, that gets more Hate, than Love!  
Our ALL's but Nothing than: For, that which IS  
Must be eternal: For, what IS, must stay  
Such as it is a Thought (at least) but this  
Is with a Thought, or changed, or gone away!  
Now sith the dearest of these Mundane things,  
Do fall so cheap from highest Holds they have,  
And that both Semy-gods aswell as Kings  
Do but engorge the most insatiate Grave;  
What Sense have such that see this daily done,  
And yet rely on life, that but appears  
As doth a Vapour rising with the Sun  
But strait to vanish, in a Vale of Tears!  
For, Kings none otherwise than Mists descend  
Down from the lofty Mountains to the Vales  
Where they through Fortune's Sunshine soon ascend,  
And vanish strait like dew the Sun exhales.  
Thus can Discretion teach Grief what to say  
To ease itself; but Griefs if great they are  
Will still be mute; or else (as mad) will bray:  
And so our Griefs (as mad) do make us far.  
Our LOSS so far transcends the highest Bounds  
Of humane-wisdome, patiently to bear,  
That it our Sufferance, and ourselves confounds  
With all distraction, joined to grief, and fear;  
Saint james, thy house, (late house of joys extreme.  
Is now an House of Mourning; sith this Mate  
Of Angels, died therein, yet lives with them;  
And, left that hapless House to endless hate.  
Those costly Pictures (curious Proofs of skill.  
Wherewith that House (like Heaven) he late did grace)  
There may they hang in Vtterdarknes till  
The foulest Spinner's scarf their fairest Face!  
That if, hereafter, any curious Eye  
(That would to Hell to see a Curious sight)  
Come there to see them, it may look awry,  
As loathing to belold their ugly plight.  
Their Co-inhabitants be ever grim,  
Grim Desolations, stern Consociates;  
Black ugly Bats, 
●say. 13. 21. 22.  and Owls; with Zim, and Limb;  
T'affright all Flesh with horror from the Gates!  
This, for the Place wherein he died: The Time,  
(Sith much more dismal) much more still b'accurst:  
Let never Sun the steep Meridian climb  
On that black Day, but clad in Sable first!  
Let all the Stars that are malevolent,  
Lend all the light that Day (like Night) shall give;  
That Men may see but only to lament  
With woefull'st action, that may move to grieve!  
And sith great Kings their Birth-days celebrate  
With all that Pomp can yield; or Pleasure prove;  
On this black Death-day still, (through public hate)  
Let ne'er the least pomp stir, nor pleasure move!  
Music, be ever silent on this Day;  
Or with Chromatic Dumps our loss lament:  
And, O ye heavenly Spheres, sound so, or stay;  
And, all confuse beneath the firmament!  
For, Common-griefe's not capable of form▪  
Our Grief is common; then, confound all Mirth  
On this cursed Day; let DEATH then, ever storm,  
Yea, make the Sun, himself, lie hid with Earth!  
If ought be else, Poetick-rage, or worse,  
Or Love (that can do all) can move to hate  
This cursed day, to add unto this curse,  
Let it fall on it, as most reprobate!  
Henry (dear Henry!) O that Words we had  
So steeped in Brine that all, through them, might see  
That We, with Reason, are grown justly mad:  
Sith reason doth rage, most justly, but for Thee!  
For, souls that have Intelligence and Will,  
And by the first discern what they have lost,  
Can, through the Last, but last distracted still  
With Rage that Reason rectifieth most!  
If GOD we lose, what reason can be so great  
(For, greatest reason best knows the greatest loss:)  
But it, with Grief, will quite itself forget,  
Remembering such a Soule-confounding CROSS!  
Then, when we lose a Prince, like God for State,  
Stile, Virtue, and Effect, what Reason can  
But far as it were rightly reprobate?  
If not; such reason must be in more than Man!  
If well, we take a CROSS of so great weight  
That breaks the Back of sufferance, with a Thought,  
(Though propped with strongest grace) our dull conceit  
Of Goodness lost, shows we are good for nought.  
No: sooner can our Souls discourse forbear,  
And cease to take Reports from Wit and Sense  
Than we (like Blocks) such Blows of Fate can bear  
As maim our Souls through their Intelligence!  
If He of HUS, 
job.  whose patience (being crossed)  
Endured the shock of Hell's first mortal charge,  
Yet▪ in the second, found his patience lost  
Among but Blains, that did but Blood enrage;  
Then how should flesh, less fenced with Grace, sustain  
So many Wounds, which through our Prince's Heart  
Death fastens on our souls, such hurt, such pain,  
Makes Outrage seem to act but judgements Part.  
The Prophet being but in prison cast 
I●r. 20. 7. 8. 9   
For speaking what he ought, and as he should  
Vowed never more to mention heaven, and past  
So far in heat, that he the Highest controlled.  
Then, though we may not, from the slips of Saints,  
Take warrant flat to fall, yet, for such CAUSE  
To use Poetick-rage in our Complaints,  
(Falling past fury) stands with Reason's Laws:  
Oh! that Wit's forces than, that reason controls,  
Could fall into this sacred Rage; and make  
All Times to come, to suffer with our souls;  
Or, force the props of future Worlds to shake!  
For, passion being in our souls conceived,  
Forthwith is form in our speech; and so▪  
Passing from us, by others is received;  
And, makes in them impression of like Wo.  
Oh! Eloquence, (the Routher of our Mind,  
Swaying th' Affects thereof, which way it lists)  
join with our sighs (now) like resistless Winds  
To lose our souls in sorrows endless Mists:  
For, Grief enforced by Fate, and Eloquence  
(Oh FORCE that still the own desires fulfils!  
Than Tyrant's sway, hath no less violence  
o'er our weak souls, that works but what it Wills!  
Yet nought's more eloquent than TRUTH (most strong!)  
Than our true Grief (that seas of sorrow weeps)  
Must move all Minds, by th' Engine of our Tongue,  
To float to endless Woes on DOLOURS Deeps.  
Men must be wrought like Ir'ne; that's first made soft  
With fire, yet water cools it: fires of Wit  
Must make them more than supple (sure▪ and oft)  
Y'er Tears can cool strong passions burning-fit.  
Than, if my Wit were great, as is the CAUSE  
Of this our sorrow, it should so inflame  
The World with passion as it ne'er should pause  
To shower forth streams of Tears to quench the same!  
But so this Grief distracts it, that it can  
But make imperfect Offers; it's too cold  
To thaw the frozen Hearts of every Man:  
For, Death (not Dolour) hath all hearts in hold.  
Oh words! O sense! how senseless both we hold  
(Though most significant) that cannot curse  
This Day past execration; would ye could  
(And I had you to use) do that, or worse!  
But why, O why! do I accursed fend,  
So curse the Day wherein He so was blest  
For whose cause so I curse? My knees I bend,  
And beg for Grace, sith 'twas in Mind distressed.  
Then I retract my Curses; and I bless  
That blessed God that gives and takes (so free)  
The best Things ever: for, we must confess,  
This was as good as could, in Nature, Bee!  
For, if in nature, there could be a Prince  
Above the pitch of highest Hopes; then He  
Was more than such, in our experience:  
Then, can our Griefs be less than now they be?  
Yet Art, and Adulation (making Eight  
Of seven) that make so many samouzed▪  
But yet the eight make more for state, and weight)  
Do oft, in over-righting, wrong the dead!  
But few, if dead, are flattered, if their friends  
Live not in Wealth, or Greatness: so, the scopes  
Of all such Clawers scratch for private Ends:  
Yet, Kings will flatter, to attain their Hopes!  
But, who for private Grace, (and Gifts among)  
Of wicked Princes do renown their Names  
Do private- justice, so, with publike-Wrong;  
So, both is wrong, done right to both their shames.  
Then, here's our happy infortunity,  
To praise him, dead, so strong in lyving-might;  
Whose earned praise seems hired flattery;  
But this we cannot shun; and do him right!  
Then, O! receive, great Prince of Palatines,  
Our Muse's Tears (true records of our Harm)  
In these sad Numbers of her blubbered Lines,  
e'en for his sake, of whom thoust lost an ARM  
If not much more! for, never could two Hearts  
As th' had, been one, long since, and cleft in two;  
Till now, at meeting, straight rejoined their Parts:  
So did your Hearts at your first meeting do.  
But death, too envious death, dissevered them  
As soon as joined; than we may judge by this,  
Thy causeful Sorrows needs must be extreme  
Like ours: whose heart was ours, and ours was His!  
And to what season had as spiteful Time  
Reserved this severing? but e'en then, when thou  
(To make that Knot more sure, in your youths prime)  
Cam'st to espouse his HALF; wo-wedded now!  
So, when thy joys were flowing, near the full,  
It, past the lowest ebb, fell headlong-wise;  
And wert not Fortune thee did yet not lull  
In Cradle of sure hope, it near could rise!  
Thy Fortune's highest aim (nought can be higher  
That on the Earth is found) is the rarest gem  
That ere was cased with flesh: then, to aspire  
That to enjoy, is joy beyond extreme!  
A Sister suitable to such a Brother;  
The highest desire of mightiest Potentates:  
Good in the Abstract, there's not such another  
Now to be matched; nor in the power of FATES!  
Fame that best knows her; prompts me what to speak;  
All, that attend her, Fame's report maintains;  
And, all in all, into her praises break;  
Yea, love the ground that this Beloved, sustains!  
But, o, we cannot look upon her Worth  
But must reflect on His thats gone; sith He  
Was as herself; and one Womb brought them forth,  
Which, for these BLESSINGS, ever-blessed be.  
But (ah) he Was, and is not; WASPE! (o word  
Able to strike the Soul of Patience dead)  
And why not IS? He IS, and is a LORD  
Whom Angels serve, and with their Food is fed,  
He died indeed; it's true: nay, false it is;  
He did not die, that changed but life's annoy  
For life of comfort in eternal BLISS:  
Yet, thus he died, that thus yet lives in joy!  
Dear Vault, that veil'st him, mummanize his Corpse  
Till it arise in Heaven to be crowned:  
Sith (though on Earth he rarely ran his course)  
No Crown, for Prize, though it he touched, he found.  
But Breath no sooner left him but it was  
Involved with air of FAME, and blown so high,  
That it doth Ariadneiss CROWN surpass,  
And made a FLAME new kindled in the Sky.  
He died in show than, but yet lives in Deed  
In Heaven and Hearts of all that honour Grace,  
In highness Heart: he died then, so to speed  
Of Glory here, and in that surer Place.  
e'en when his Grand-dames Corpse was re-inshrin'de;  
As if his Corpse, in shades of Death, through love,  
Had longed to meet with Hers that seemed so kind  
To seek to meet with his, through her remove!  
e'en then (the will of Heaven so fore-assigned)  
He left his Breath, ye're he the Crown possessed;  
And went in Person, (Princely still inclined)  
To meet and greet her in eternal rest!  
But so he spent, and left his breath, (we hope)  
That's praise, in Bliss, still breathes Eternity;  
As it doth fill the Earth, and heavenly Cope:  
For such a hopeful life did never die:  
Then, die he never can while Virtue lives;  
For, HE, and SHE are still Corelatives!  
Fear, and the Pit, and the Snare, are upon thee, O inhabitant of the Earth! Esay. 24. 17.   

SOBS FOR THE LOSS of the most Heroic Prince HENRY.  

Nonfrustranascitur, qui bene moritur.   

NOw; all we see, of worth, go all in black,  
For Him whose worth all times shall love and lack.  
The hopefullest heir apparent to a CROWN,  
That Grace could give, yet, call the gift her own.  
Some, wail the loss of private friends till death;  
Then when so many closed were in his Breath,  
How should that some, (nay all) his loss deplore?  
That Sorrowes-Sea, no bottom hath, nor Shore!  
All praise is shut in Bounds, save that of ONE  
Who near is lost, but of the lost alone:  
But none that's lost in show, not deed, or name,  
Could e'rne more praise than this true Soul of FAME!  
he's gone; but, going, left such light behind  
As doth the Moon eclipse, the Sun so blind  
With splendour, that the light they yield▪ us now,  
Is far less good in deed, less great in show!  
The Heavens, that lent him, are grown poor; or we  
Deserve no trust, (sith we bad debtors be)  
To take him ere the time by Nature set,  
Yet, for short interest, keep us still in debt!  
Celestial Spirits, are ye so greedy grown  
So soon to give and take (from us) your own?  
Or did you envy that we should have had  
A Head so good to Members all so bad?  
Say, we were Merchants that near kept our day,  
Or (at the best) but pray when we should pay:  
Or (yet if better, when no faith we keep)  
Fall on our knees, and for grace sigh and weep:  
Yet sith ye swim in all celestial STORE  
Ye might a while have borne with Spirits so poor!  
But were we poor in spirit, we had been rich  
In your account: but O we are not such!  
Our Pride (that makes us beggars every way)  
Make ye mistrust our faith (too poor to pay.)  
Well; it is ill with us (poor Souls, profane)  
And worse, (much worse) for that which you have ta'en  
Yea, (which is worst) will never lend Him more:  
O Spirit (Celestial Spirits, which we adore)  
Forbear the rest we owe, to grace incline;  
Trust us upon a pawn of angels wine,  
Which from the heavy Vessels of our eves  
Shall run till you shall say It doth suffice!  
And Lord of Hosts (their Lord and ours) besiege  
Our Hearts with fear till Love doth give this Pledge.  
And so dispose the goods we have of thine,  
(In and Without us) as we may resign  
All to thy praise; that (though in debt we stand)  
Thou mayst supply our wants still, on our Band!  
On which, we humbly pray thee lend us health,  
And Heads and Hands t'uphold the Commonwealth  
Of our own Stock: or, if in future-time,  
(As heretofore) some stranger up do climb  
On Ladder of our Branches to our CROWN  
He may be such as near may put us down!    

AN EPITAPH ON THE Death of the immortal HENRY Prince of Wales.  

Much Briefly said, and clearly too,  
Is hard: yet that much Art can do:  
But here much grief and little Art,  
Is forced to act so hard a Part.   

Nature and Art, with Grace, and Fortune too,  
Sought Time, and Death to conquer, (as they do)  
In this Heroic PRINCE, who, through those fou'r,  
Overthrow Times force, and Death's almighty Power!  
All that was in Him, was much more than all  
That's found in Flesh, if young, and natural!  
Can Wit say more for his true glory here?  
Yes: for, he was a Prince without a Peer!  
What more? why this: He died but in his prime;  
Yet, in perfection, elder was than TIME!  
And more complete than PLACE: for fame that grows  
From his great WORTH alone, no limit knows!  
If Time, and Death, and Place than, be to seek  
For such another; He to none is like  
But him who hath no like; yet like in MIND;  
And, for they have no like in either kind!  
This King of Princes, and that God of Kings:  
Are like themselves than, and none other things!  
And, like themselves, they live in Heaven, and Us,  
In spite of Envy, Time, and Death: Than, thus.  
(In brief) we bound their boundless EXCELLENCE:  
One, no such GOD; the other, no such PRINCE!   

ANOTHER.  
FOrtune, and Art, and Nature strove  
To give much more than ere they gave  
To Him that lies hear underneath  
The grace of Nature, Time, and Death!  
Three CROWNS were near Him; and the forth,  
He might, by RIGHT, have won by WORTH!  
Which, in his youth, presaged his spirit  
Would ren'd, in age, from WRONG, his RIGHT!  
That Spirit (like his, that's most complete)  
Sought nought but what was good and GREAT!  
He soon was ripe; too soon to win,  
What Time, much toiled, and Art draws in.  
Who casts for Crowns, must have no small  
Might, right, skill, will, and Time with all:  
But whose perfection Time outgoes  
Wins but LAVD'S Crown yer life he lose!  
His Gain and Loss then, are so e'en,  
As he is pleased with both in Heaven.  
Teaching all Heirs to CROWNS, and KINGS  
To be the best of Earthly things!  
Farewell (rare PRINCE!) nor Time, nor Death  
Shall stint thy glory with thy breath:  
For when, with them, loud fame decay,  
Silence shall whisper out thy praise!    

CONSOLATIONS for, and to the King.  
GReat King in sorrows, now, aswell as STATE,  
Whom Fortune's grace makes most unfortunate:  
For, no more favour could of FATE be had,  
Than such a Son, whose loss makes Fate as bad.  
This string sounds deadly, I'll not touch it more,  
Lest that my Salve more hurt then heal the SORE.  
Be now a KING of Kings: for, sorrows reign  
In Thee, o'er whom become thou SOVEREIGN.  
The more like GOD Kings be, the less they grieve  
Or joy, for aught that joy or grief doth give.  
For, highest power in weakness best is shown:  
Than; sith no weakness can uphold a CROWN,  
Let thy high virtue, that doth three sustain,  
Repress strong griefs, that but in weakness reign,  
The more th'affront of FATE, the more appears  
The virtue of the power that well it bears!  
No King should be (how e'er he be distressed)  
Less than himself, or like himself at least:  
But no King breathing more distressed could be  
Than thou hast been, ere thou couldst breathe to see  
Thy mortal danger: And, when, afterwards,  
Thy Case, by horrid treasons, was more-hard,  
As being in the very Maw of DEATH,  
Yet, in concoction, Fate preserved thy BREATH.  
And, yet it's said of thee, e'en than thou were't  
In show, a Caesar, and a King in Heart!  
Than thus being used, beyond thy birth, unto  
The deep'st distress, and Seas of Sorrows too,  
Say to thy Pilot Hope (in Storms extreme)  
thoust Caesar, and his Fortunes; go with them.  
Thy desperate Plight, of yore, yet safe restored  
Should make thee think thee safe, though over Board.  
And thy like Sorrows (such as Kings do kill)  
Should keep out others, be they what they will.  
No Heaviness that Atlas-Mind or'ethrowes,  
That can Heavens joy uphold in worlds of woes.  
Nor that Herculean Spirit that can support  
In Hell of Ills, a Heaven of good- report.  
As far as Heaven doth Earth; nay, more by odds,  
Gods thoughts transcend the thoughts of mortal- gods.  
Then, by proportion, theirs should so are more high  
Than highest thoughts, not raised by MAJESTY.  
The Heart of heavens great MONARCH still is free  
From Passion: so should SOV'RAIGNES likewise be  
That would be lik'st him: no Ambition higher  
Yet juster far, in deed, than in desire.  
But, Oli'ts easy, well, by force of Art,  
To prompt the sick to Speak and Act their part;  
Yet, hard (most hard) to do it, afterwards:  
But, to highest powers should nought but Ill be hard.  
Severe Torquatus, did his Son mis-do  
For charging, against his charged, his braving Foe,  
Though he won fame and conquest: than, sith HE  
That was as daring (yet was ruled by Thee)  
Is, for our breach of Hests, much more divine,  
Ta'en hence, by highest justice, not by thine,  
Be thou the Patient, sith the Agent Heaven,  
Thee, of thy Son, hath, for itself, bereau'n.  
And let no Pagan, pass a Christian, Prince,  
For Morall-Grace, or pious excellence!  
Th'all-seeing Soul of judgement, so long knit  
Unto the active Body of thy Wit  
Knows more than WIT can think to ease thy Grief;  
Then let that Soul, now, animate Relief.  
And weigh, dear Sovereign, on your Life depends,  
The weal of many strangers, subjects, friends:  
If sorrow then, should waste your power's of life,  
You soon might leave them in a World of strife:  
And, make the STATE, that now you hold in peace,  
From Union, fall to Faction, piece by piece.  
That ere it stand as now it doth, it may  
From Faction fall to Action, and decay.  
Then, all that are committed to your charge  
With Eyes, that fears and Tears do overcharge,  
On you do look, and by those looks say thus;  
Pity yourself if you will pity us!  
And still we Hope you make a Conscience, too,  
Us, in yourself, with dolour to undo.  
Sith, of you, JUSTICE, will our lives require,  
If through your fault, they should in Yours expire,  
Philip of Spain, but for his Commons good,  
(So said by some) to death, on his own BLOOD  
Did float his SON, & HEIR to all his Crowns,  
So, for his subjects peace, his son confounds.  
Nay God himself, his dear Son did to death  
To save his servants: O! then, shall the BREATH  
By which we breath, be spent, in SIGHS, because  
Thy Son, to Death, obaied great NATURES Laws;  
When of the FOUNT of Grace, and Glory, Thou  
Hast such a GLASS thyself to see, and know!  
Than, with thyself, thy subjects love thou so  
That, with thyself, thou do them not o'erthrow  
Through thy much Grief (which makes them most to smart)  
For seeing thy Son but mortal, as thou art.  
NATURE (we wot) by her too wayward course,  
Will fall (if not upheld by Sour'aigne force)  
To Grieefs redundance, for less CAUSE (by odds)  
But Kings above her be, sith they are Gods!  
Then, though thou fre'st be through the DIGNITY,  
Thou art most Bound to Grace, and Majesty!  
When NATURE, then, would make thee err, as Man;  
Thou canst not stir from these, do what She can  
Unless thou wilt infringe the Bonds of GRACE.  
That put, and holds thee in thy powerful PLACE.  
KINGS (sacred Things) have other Minds & Hearts  
Than others have, that play inferior Parts:  
For, some will, for their Subjects good, define!  
Than, for their good, wilt thou not live with thine?  
Codrus, who ware th' Athenian DIADEM,  
Did (as thou knowst) die willingly for them.  
Than shall a King, inferior far in State,  
In virtue pass a greater Potentate?  
Great God forefend; that HE who is so GREAT,  
His Subjects Hope in's power should so defeat.  
On this World's stage, thou playst God's Part  
And at thine Action every Eye doth fling (KING!) Great  
The sharpest Beams of Observation! Than  
If thou wouldst have applause above a Man,  
Or not exposed be to base esteem,  
Be as thou Art (a God) at least, so seem!  
Be strong then (Godlike KING) and act this Part  
Of sorrow so, as (though it move thy HEART)  
It may no Action move unfit for POWER  
Of greatest Britain's greatest Governor!  
God proves His thoroughly, ere he them approves:  
So, tries before he trusts; likes ere he loves.  
Yet none can take the foil, that combats WOE,  
Unless he yields before the Overthrow:  
For, if to fight he, but in will, be priest  
Heaven gives his courage force; his force, the best!  
To such, their Wish achives that Victory  
Whose glory far beyond their wish doth fly:  
For Grace will near be wanting to our will,  
If, to ourselves, Will be not wanting still.  
That thou retir'st thyself, when Heaven doth frown,  
Doth rather raise then sink thy high renown:  
For, Closets must enclose us, when, in Woe,  
We reckon with our God for what we owe.  
Good Kings are left alone, when most alone;  
For stillness is the staidness of their THRONE.  
Henry the Fourth, of France, had he been still;  
Ravilliack then, had found no King to kill.  
And all the World had from his WORTH, reposed  
In pious acts, the better been disposed:  
For, as a Beacon, on an hill aspired,  
Although it stand alone, yet, being fired,  
Lights the whole country, far off from the flame,  
And makes Night Daylight near unto the same:  
So, solitary Kings, that are retired  
For virtuous causes, do (like Beacons fired)  
Give light to all their Subjects, far, and nigh;  
So, good the public by their privacy.  
Good King, thy foes (if thou hast any such,  
If not; thy Saviour could not say so much)  
Cannot but say (and do thine Honour right)  
thouart Good, as Great; in Nature, as in Might!  
Than, in that goodness, our just jealousy  
(Of common interest which we have in thee)  
Convert to Confidence, through thy due care  
Of thy Health's state, & this STATE, which we are.  
Thy Health is ours; thy Sickness is our Pest.  
Thy rest's our Toil; thy Travail is our REST!  
If from the Helm of this so mighty ARK  
That bears our Commonwealth, in private cark,  
Thy most wel-practized HAND in rule of STATE  
Belong withheld, by sorrow, ease, or Fate;  
It must (for all the Master's helps within)  
Run back in Grace, or else quite sink in sin.  
The Master's Eye doth fat the Horse (they say)  
And Coyne-made- Pastors let the flock decay.  
Those Officers, that buy, or rend their Rooms,  
Will sell, or make a RENT of all that comes.  
All will stand crooked, if thy Head, and Hand  
Be not applied to make it upright stand.  
Thou being the cunning'st Architect of STATE  
Canst raise this, maugre puffs of Spite or Fate,  
That, it (rare Masterpiece of Kingly SKILL)  
Shall stand for Kings to imitate it, still.  
Then, O! take comfort in thy Commonwealth  
Whose comfort is in care but of thy Health.  
As when the sick (sore sick) are spoken too  
By friends for good, yet grieve in what they do:  
So, lest my chat might thee (perhaps) offend,  
I at thy foot fall prostrate for the end: 
Regis ad exemplum. etc.   
And thus there set the Period of my speech:  
Do as thou wilt, thou wilt all others teach.   

To the sacred Queen of England her most excellent Majesty be all comfort after the CROSS.  

GOod Queen (for, greater STYLE, Truth, Grace, nor Wit  
Can give to Greatness for Man's Goodness fit)  
Bless with thy Rays these Lines, drawn out at length  
To give thy Mind, repose; thy Patience, strength:  
Yet, come from want of wit, which justly vaunts  
None truer speaks than truest Ignorants!  
You see, beneath the Circuit of the SUN,  
All that's made best, is instantly undone!  
Are all things vain then, in that Compass? No:  
The lightest Thing therein, is nothing so:  
That's TRUTH; which still is best; yet still unmade:  
Which GOD cannot undo, though Fiends invade!  
Than TRUTH, so perfect, tells you by her Fool,  
(Her plainest Tongues-man) you are in a School  
That teacheth many Lessons; good, and bad:  
The bad, delight; the good, but make too sad:  
Then, sith now sad you are, the last you learned  
Was passing good, though it be ill discerned.  
You take it ill (perhaps) by so great loss,  
To learn to bear a far more heavy CROSS  
(Which Heaven long defer) if long you live,  
(For which I pray) than O be glad to grieve  
For what you do, when you do grieve to prove  
Your Souls best Physic in what lest you love.  
It's ill to be too well; ease, is disease:  
And deadly too, in Parts that Death doth seize.  
Then when, in any Part of us, we joy  
More than we should, lest that might us destroy  
Heaven takes it quickly off (as 'twere by stealth)  
And, by that Want supplies our want of health!  
The greatest Cross that Greatness than can bear  
Is that of Pleasure, freed of Grief, and Fear.  
Yet to content Desire, and fear exclude,  
Is the whole Sum of Heavens BEATITUDE!  
But, here, not so; where pleasure, as a Crime,  
Ends ill, if fear prevent it not in time.  
Yet Nature droops, if pleasure, in a mean  
Sustain it not to act Life's tedious Scene.  
Thus with, nor without pleasure, long can we  
Live as we should, so strongly weak we be!  
Than gracious Queen when you reflect upon  
This light of TRUTH, it will be day anon  
With darkest PASSION, that but Reason blinds;  
Then leave your Chance to Fame, and Fortune's winds  
While you yourself repose (blow how they please)  
In HONOURS Heaven (or'eruling SORROWS Seas!)  
Wherein sits VIRTUE throned, Crowned with Stars,  
Above black Days, made such by Clouds of Cares.  
There, Royal Lady, is their sovereign SEAT,  
That will, in all Affronts, be Good, and Great:  
For, nought is Great on Earth but that Great Mind  
That's moved with nothing great produced by KIND!  
But, in an Heavenly calm of Minds repose,  
Looks least dejected when it most doth lose.  
Than Minds are Motes, unless they think they be  
Above all State and Fate, in their degree.  
VIRTUE, as Sovereign, royal Minds still rules;  
But FORTUNE (as a Slave) waits most on Fools.  
This life is but a warfare against OFFENCE;  
And either fortune, breeds the DIFFERENCE,  
Be't Black, or Bright, its clear, not clear they are,  
From equal Danger, and from equal, Care!  
Soft-fortune is a Bog, or dancing- Death,  
Where soon the careless do engulf their breath!  
Then must the foot of sober-care go soft,  
Yet swiftly over, to keep Life aloft.  
While high CONTENT, in what soever Chance,  
Makes the brave Mind the Stars out-countenance!  
CONTENT, doth feast our Fates, which still is found  
In Minds, by Grace, (like Heaven) made Great, & Round:  
What Wave can surge above highest Providence  
In Deluge of Distress, or Eminence?  
What Leaden-Hap can fall from adverse Fate,  
To sink the Mind that VIRTUE doth Elate?  
If She then CENTRE be of our Defence,  
Be roundest Vengeance the CIRCUMFERENCE  
It skills not; sith it shall no more annoy  
Than Hell the Man-god did, who there did joy!  
Than, let Fates Snuffs and Puffs, as winds of Grace,  
Serene the Heaven of your Majestic Face  
From frowning Clouds, condensed by DEATH'S despite,  
To reave fair virtues Firmament of light.  
So shall you mount from West of Woe to th' East  
Of GLORIES Heaven; and (Sun-like) light the rest!  
For, such strange Members NATURE never bred  
As lie at ease while Thorns do Crown their HEAD!  
Entomb your Passions in HIS Passion, then,  
(To be beloved of Angels, praised of Men!  
And, with a roiall-smooth-erected front  
Bear up the CROSS; and, ever look upon't  
As on the only KEY of heavens foregate,  
That opes it maugre Envy, Death, and Fate:  
For, Fate and Death our Nature doth salute  
Y'er we can breath on Blossoms of LIFE'S Fruit.  
Then, if we flourish afterward, it is  
A grace we merit not, but use amiss.  
We use amiss; or (at the best) the Best  
So use it still, as all the interest  
Comes from the poorness of their Spirits, with strife;  
So, but in Grace, deserve the love of Life!  
Yet, Spirits of richest temper, are but poor;  
But, in their indigence, abound with store  
Of Heavenly Treasures, which the World doth scorn  
Yet they the bravest Mind do most adorn!  
A brave Spirit is a Particle of HIS  
That's Lord of FATE, triumvirate of BLISS!  
And, (as a Flame) she still, by Nature, sties  
Where her ORIGINAL reposed lies.  
Than, sacred Majesty, disdain to vail  
Thy height to Nature, if she fall to wail:  
Though weeping with thy Sex doth best agree;  
Yet Tears so drown the Rays of Majesty,  
As, through those troubled streams, when they would peep,  
They, sadly, look like Prisoners in the deep.  
But, can a Mother, good, as great, forget,  
A SON so dear, and not pay Nature's Debt  
In Liquid Pearl, disbursed by those Eyes  
Where Majesty with Love and Virtue lies?  
O! no, She cannot: but She still may mind  
Her Son, in DEED; yet, put the SHOW behind,  
Where it may never shadow GLORIES sight,  
That, in the Streams of Sorrow, sinks her light.  
Now (as a fool) foolhardy I have been  
T' encounter thus, the Passions of a QUEEN;  
Which commonly are strong as is the state  
Of those that all but them, predominate!  
What is my reach herein? Is it to show  
My Hand, or Heart, or what a fool may know?  
To pick her Mouth of thanks; her Purse of coin:  
Or, praise (at least) from her (so charmed) purloin.  
For Note, for Coat, for Countenance, for aught  
Like these; or none of these? or, else, for nought?  
For none of these it is: yet, is it not  
For nought; but, for Her good, I play the Sot.  
To make Her (Sorry) merry, as I could,  
None otherwise than Grace, with Nature, would  
e'en for Herself: wise-folly telling me  
e'en for Herself, should VIRTUE served be.  
Than, if that one of God's Fools, on his Face,  
(Most wise in that) may beg, and have the grace  
Of good acceptance of this service; he  
Will fool it, thus, for nothing, till he be  
Nothing, that is not something, still to serve  
A Queen, whom Fates did for our weal reserve.  
Whose private Womb, hath been the Fountainhead,  
Whence all the Issues of our Hopes are lead.  
By Grace's guidance, and by Nature's might,  
Still to refresh the Red-rose, and the White,  
For that, and for thou, sweetest Eglantine,  
About the Flow'res of all our Crowns dost twine  
To keep them from quite falling, (as our own)  
By adverse Puffs, that else might blow them down.  
We, (mixed, conjoined in peace and unity)  
Enshrine thee in our souls infinity,  
Till all good souls shall meet, where they shall Rise  
To Glory in secure FELICITIES.   

Here, heavy Muse, stoop low thy high ascent;  
And say, in deepness of the low'st descent:  
Good Queen (as it began, your STYLE defines)  
Bless, with your Beams of grace, these graclesse Lines.   
FINIS.