No Frontispiece my Verses have,  
But what kind Readers fancies grave.   

THe Shadow of a spreading ●ree  
From S●r●●● d●th the ●●●pheard free,  
He listens to a silver Spr●●g,  
Who●e wa●e●, as they 〈◊〉 do sing,  
A little House 〈◊〉 is near  
A Pal●ce, when her 〈◊〉 i● there;  
The Gentle Lamb● are feeding by;  
The 〈◊〉 approaching▪ with fa● Eye.  
Offers her 〈…〉 Hand▪ and ●●yes,  
Shepherd▪ here take this 〈◊〉 of ●ayes,  
Embrace m● ●●●gin, Answers He,  
I care not for thy Bays but Thee,   

He was too bold: The M●se too C●y.  
〈◊〉 f●own'd▪ and threw the sprig away.    

NYMPHA LIBETHRIS: OR THE COTS WOULD MUSE, Presenting some extempore Verses to the Imitation of young Scholars.  
In four Parts.  
Quis me rep●chendat, aut quis mih● jure su●censeat, si quantu●: ●ae●●●s ad ●uas res obcundas, quantum ad f●stos d●es ludorum cel●b●andos, quantum ad ●lias voluptates, et ad ipsam requi●●● animi et corpo●is conceditur temporis; qu●ntum alii tribuun● 〈◊〉 pest●vis convivi●s, quantum deni●●●l●ae, quantum pilae; tantum mihi egomet ad haec studia ●●colenda sumjero?  
LONDON. Printed for F. A. at Worcester. 1651.   

C. PLIN. Epist. 1. 13.  
SEd ta●to magis laudandi probandiq sunt, quos à scribendi recitandique studio, haec Auditorum vel desidia vel superbi● non retardat.   

Idem, VII. 8.  
FAs est et Carmine remitti: non dic●continuo et longo (id enim perfici nis● in o●io non potest▪ sed hoc arguto et brevi quod apte quantaslibet occupationes distinguit. Lusus vocantur: sed hi lusus no● minorem interdum gloriam, quam seri▪ consequuntur. Itaque summi Oratores, summ etiam viri, sic se aut exercebant aut delectabant; imò delectabant, exercebantque   

Adolescentibus bonae spei,  

SACKVILLO,  
STRATFORDIIS fr.  
GULIELMIIS fr.  
HACKETTIS fr.  
AEARAO,  
Nec non, COMMELINIS fr.  
Contubernalibus suis S.   
VIctus Amore vestrûm, videtis quo feror. In hac aetate, cum maturum aliquid (si quid) edere deberem, et quod viris placere posset, Flosculos nescio quos parturio, et cum pueris cano. Sed bene habet, si vobis, Auditores lectissimi, quocunque modo, ad Humanitatis studia praeire potero. Nam, ut magnopere laborem de fama, non est tanti. Etiam me liora Ingenia quam est hujus hominis, sine venia non placent▪ Vos vero valete, et Musam vestram, quod facitis, amate.  
Vester C. B.   

The Chief Names honoured by the Muse.  

CHANDOS.  
Beale.  
Bellers.  
Bosworth.  
Bower.  
Bridges.  
Brown.  
Burton.  
Carew.  
Charlton.  
Collier.  
Commelin.  
Constable.  
Critton.  
Crofts.  
Falkland.  
Freeman.  
Fuller.  
Godwin.  
Greenwood.  
Green.  
Hacket.  
Hammond.  
Higford.  
Hill.  
Howell.  
Kery.  
Laws.  
Lingen.  
Luther.  
Merret.  
Mynn.  
Palmer.  
Parry.  
Philip's  
Pinke.  
powel.  
Prideaux.  
Reading.  
Rogers.  
Rusell.  
Samwayes.  
Savage.  
skinner.  
Stapylton.  
Stratford.  
Taylor  
Thomas.  
Tours.  
Turner.  
Warren.  
Williams.  
Where.  
Womock.  
Wright.  
Wroughton.  
Zuinglius.    

The Consecration of all.  

TO MY LADY CHANDOS.  

MADAM, See here, your Roëll Muse  
Exults for joy your Name to use;  
(Fair, Noble, Good, all Titles due,  
Are understood, when I name you:)  
Well knowing every Thing is graced,  
That's under your protection placed.  
She's innocent yet fl●es t' Your wing,  
T'avoid Suspicion. She doth bring  
Some Men of Arms, and Other some,  
Whose praises do from Learning come.  
To Ladies, She hath Honour done:  
And above All▪ Yourself are One.  
She hath inserted a few Toys,  
To please and profit the Schoolboys.  
I charge her, not disturb your pra●'r,  
(Though sometime she breathes holy air,  
And sings the LITURGY in verse:)  
Nor unseasonably rehearse:  
B●t wait▪ till, at you vacant time,  
Y●u please to listen to her Rhyme.  
When you, that'S GOOD, vouchsafe to say;  
That, ò that word's the Poets Bay.    

To the same.  

MAdam your Muse hath been in Labour too;  
And she is now delivered, after you.  
Her Off spring hath its Fate, as you desire,  
To live or▪ if you favour not, expire.  
B●t may Yours last, and in all Grace-excell;  
And be— what? The fair Mother's parallel.     

Praeceptori Suo, Mro C. B.  

CAntas, non tener as Amationes:  
Nullus Carminibus tuis Priapus.  
O factum bene! Sanctiore Musâ.  
Tu Casus modo fortium Virorum,  
Et Libros canis eruditiores:  
Phaedri pellepidam modo et Fabellam,  
Et donas Epigramma Sarbievi.  
Nulla est Pag●na de tuo Libello,  
Quâ non sim meliorque doctiorque.  
Haec, inter trepidos Scholae susurros,  
Condis Carmina, idoneum levamen  
Curarum. Domini die vocante,  
Volvis majus Opus, sacrosque libros  
Interpres populo Eloquentiâ aptâ  
Exp●nis, Grege non tumultuante.  
Humana et sacra quando miscuisti  
Felix, atque Homim Deoque se●vis;  
O sis aequè Homini Deoque carus!  
Vive, et scribe diu, venustiores  
Artes et sapiens severiores.   
Hackettu●.   


VEster Amor, mi Praeceptor, sit Nympha Libethris  
Non solum: Haec eadem sit quoque noster Amor.   
Thorn.   


PRithee, what Virgin's that, so fine, so sweet,  
That trippeth o'er our Hills with her fair feet?  
Such Beauties we in Cotsall do not use  
To see o●t. Ha● It is my Master's Muse:  
The Mountain-Muse. She's Gentle, if she's His:  
Let's all ●un after her, and get a kiss.   
Sackvill.   


IF your Muse hither make her oft resorts,  
She'll be as much loved, as were Dovers sports.   
Stratford.   


NYmphae (si● Te semper ament) Libethrides adsint  
Semper Virgineo, sic precor una, choro.   
A. S.   

Daphnis. Amyntas.  

D. A Myntas, ho! Didst thou espv, t● day,  
A m●untain-Ny●ph pass nimbly by this way?  
Her Garments handsome were, though nothing brave  
Her Cheek and Eye, such as thy P●y'lis have.  
A. Daphnis, to Roell house early she went,  
To her brave Lord, some Token to present.  
D. Amyntas, Thanks: No better news I'd hear:  
I know, she'll find a noble-welcom there.   
Tounsend.   

On the Poems of Mr C. B. sometime of Gloc. Hall.  

SIr, He that reads your verse will say, In it  
There is some Learning too as well as Wit.  
Although it now lie desolate, Gloster Hall  
Was surely sometime more than a bare wall:  
And among more Ingenious Fellows there  
You conversation had with learnt Will. Where.  
Your so●e● Muse, not puffed with Wine and Ale,  
Shall b' entertained both in the Hills a●d Valerius   
T. B.   

To Zoilus.  

POor Zoilus! I do already know,  
Because tho● thinkest me Friend to Cicero,  
(And I'll prevent thee in it) I ●is thy G●be is,  
Even old Ma●tial's, Car●ina quod scribis.  
I care not fo● thy censure, but conclude,  
Cause it displeases thee, my Ve●se is good.    

A MICO.  

BArksdallii hîc Imaginem videas Tui,  
Musaeque cantus audias gratis suae,  
At audiens vidensque praedices bene,  
Ut Ille semper p●aedicat de Te optime.    

NYMPHA LIBETHRIS OR THE COTSALL MUSE.  
I. Part.  VIRG II. 
Nymphae noster Amor Libeth●ides.  
The Nymphs, that dwell above  
Oth' Mountains, are our Love.  
LONDON, Printed for F. A. at Worcester. 1651.   

C. PLIN. 1. 3.  
E●finge aliquid et excude, quod sit perpetu● Tuum. Nam reliqua rerum t●arum post ●● alium atque alium dominum sortientur: hoc nu● quam tuum desinet esse si semel caeperit.   

Idem 7. 28.  
NEc sunt parum multi, qui carpere amic● Suos judicium vocant.   

Nympha Libethris, OR The Cotsall Muse.  

I. To the Reader.  

THe Cotsall Muse so called, to do her right,  
For rustic plainness, not for any height;  
Humbly c●aves pardon, if she chance to meet  
Some delicate Reader, on her tender feet.  
She ●une● her innocent Notes for pupils young,  
Whose fancy can't digest a verse too strong:  
High Poems will de●●r them; these may teach  
And animate, because so near their reach.    

TWO Ad Mag●strum Jonesium Coll. Aen. Socium.  

C●●●or meorum Carminum, si vis, peto;  
●i quid merentur, calculum adjicias tuum.  
●●d non merentur; talis est candor tameu,  
〈…〉, ●c erga ●e amicum Amor tuus;  
〈…〉 ●aec apta, quae pueri legant,  
〈◊〉 d●●●is posse non sperni viris.    

Doctori Greenwood Procanc. Ox.  

OXoniensem qui Inventutem regis,  
Refrixit erga me vetus Amor tuus?  
Si non refrixit, nostris Tu Musis save,  
(Nam leniunt miserias hae cantu meas)  
Istum lapillo m●liore & signa Librum:  
Quem vestra pubes, & pueri nostri legant.  
Sic prosperè Regiminis Annus exeat Tibi,  
Et Sylva semper viridis florescat Tua.    

III. To Dr. Warren, why he makes verses.  

WHen I am weary of prose, and Grotius  
H●s Gravity is to my stomach nauseous:  
Then call I up my Cotsall Muse, to string  
Her Instrument, and (though but hoarse) to sing.  
She sits with me, since we familiar grew,  
Wh●n● ere I want such company as you.  
Often she brings my ●riends in, on her feet,  
And renders their sweet Memory yet more sweet.  
I smile at her, if she do chance to hit  
On a good expression, or some point of wit:  
And if she barbarise, like boys at school,  
I smile too, and then chide, Away you fool.    

iv On the Death of Mr. Charles Parry Physician of Hereford.  

YOu that have credited your heavenly Art  
By your long life, and health of every part:  
You that have thousand patients yet alive,  
New life unto your Memory to give:  
You that could a lived still, but that you'd die  
Seeing the Church and College va●ant lie:  
You t●at did ●lesse your Physic with much prayer,  
By which I think, we so soon cured were:  
You that, when living, would not take from me,  
One small piece; now you're dead, accept this Fee:  
This my remembrance of your worth you have,  
A mean, yet grateful verse, to adorn your Grave.    

V To Mrs. Elizabeth Williams, Jan. 1. with Fragmenta Regalia.  

SOmetime, in little's Much:  
I think this Book is such.  
Great Elizabeth is he●e,  
And many a Noble Peer.  
Here in a Model true,  
Y●u may their pictures view:  
Pictures, that represent  
The Face, and Minds intent.  
Is't not a great Gift then,  
The Queen and all her Men!  
'Tis not enough; to you  
Much more, from me, is due.  
The rest in prayer I give,  
That you and yours may live.    

VI Upon an obscure hard Book.  

WHat meanest? The Volumes open, and I look  
With strict intent on; yet to me the Book  
Is closed st●ll, and tie▪ d. I am as blind  
I'th' sense as if, when scattered by the wind,  
Sibylla's leavs I w●●e to recompose;  
These leaves are ●s unknown to me as those.  
Let others purge their ●r ●ins, w●th some rare drug,  
To pier●● t●y meaning. The Italian shrug,  
Or nod, or any sign ●nstead of speech  
I'll rathe● hea●●en to. Thou dost not teach,  
But puzzle me: And I have cause to doubt  
The Author, to amuse us, put ●t out.  
Well, Go● thy ways. Certain, thou a●t less good,  
B●cause thou writ'st not to be understood.    

VII. To Mrs. Abigail Stratford standing silent.  

YOur Silence speaks your Virg'n Modesty:  
Your silence speaks 'gainst our loquacity:  
Your silence te●s us, ●hat you meditate,  
And treasure what your M●t●er doth relate.  
Silence, the graceful ●rn●ment of a Maid,  
Is the wife's ●est def●nce. When all is said,  
The Husband's wrath ●akes place; for her own sake,  
And for his too, let silence answer make.   

Now, since so many gifts in silence are,  
What language with sweet silence can compare?    

VIII. Preface to a paraphrase of Grotius de veritate, etc.  

WHat learned Grotius, in Dutch Verse,  
To Holland Merchants did rehearse,  
My Muse would to the English send,  
For this, wh●ch was the Author's end:  
That, among all things bought and sold,  
And purchase of the Indian gold,  
To make amends for what they ●e thence,  
They may transport one pea●l from hence;  
And pla●t Religion in those lands,  
Where Reason hath any commands.  
Go on my Muse: see yonder Ray  
From Heaven, to light thee on thy way!    

IX. Upon the English Liturgy put into Verse.  

EXcuse me for my pains: I thought it meet,  
T'erect our cast book on P●etic feet.  
Haply, in Verse it will be read by th●se,  
That would not use it in the reverend prose.  
And i● the Book must needs to G●ave be sent,  
The Verse may serve ●t for a Monument.    

X. To Mr. David Williams with the Instructions for travel. Kal. Jan.  

OBlations take their worth from th' Altar, where  
They're laid. Although profane before, yet there  
They become sacred. Sir, if that be true,  
This now is somewhat worth, being given to You.   

The Author's name some Reputation  
Adds to the w●rk, describing every Nation:  
Not that you should a Traveller become,  
Your Travel is to do much good at home.    

XI. To my La. C. with some Papers.  

MAdam, These leaves, in stead of Fruit, entreat  
Admission, to confess, not pay my Debt.  
Great Debt! The more I pa●, the more is due:  
'Cause my Ability I own to You.  
Pray, let these Notes attend on Your commands,  
Until my Grotius come to kiss your Hands.    

XII. Another.  

MAdam, I know y'abound with your own store  
Of Observations. But as the Poor,  
At N●● y●●r, bring their Apples and their Nuts  
T● L●rd● of Woods and Orchards; and none shuts  
The door against t●em: So may your Servant far,  
And these Notes enter where rich Volumes are.    

XIII. Upon the Picture of H. Grotius, in the front of one of his Books, put into English.  

THe Grace (and Shame) of Holland, Friend of France,  
Swedes Orator, ●he Conqueror of Chance;  
Poet, Historian, Lawyer, and Divine,  
(See and admire Him) all in One combine.  
The learned Latin wo●ld long since, now you  
Of Britanny may entertain him too.    

XIV. Upon H. Grotius, and his principal works, particularly De Imperio, etc.  

HE, who the Greek wise Say did translate,  
With equal Pen, to Latium; Vindicate  
From Jew, ●urk, Pagan, our Religion's Truth,  
As learned, as the Aged, in his Youth:  
He, who th' Hollandian States Piety  
Presented unto every impartial eye:  
Who in the Laws of War and Peace all Nations  
Hath well instructed: And, in's Annotations  
On the whole Book of God, hath made that Light  
Shine to unprejudiced minds more bright:  
He that was studious how to reconcile,  
This and that Church, in mild Cassander's stile:  
Hath shown, what Doctrine was Pelagius;  
who's older Calvin or Arminius;  
Is ever like Himself. Here, which is much,  
He's Moderator 'twixt the State and Church;  
And clearly tells you, when you may prefer,  
To th'Ancient Rish●p, the y●ung Presbyter;  
And when that new Invention may please,  
By Elders Lay, to give the Pastor case.    

XV. Against lascivious Poets.  

INdeed they are not Poets: Creatures of wine,  
And wench's; and not of the sisters nine,  
The Virg●ns of the Water. I abuse  
That sacred Title. genuine Poets use,  
Like Father Homer, to make, not to m●r  
M●ns manners, better than Chrysippus far.  
He that can't tempe● Modesty with wit,  
Let him away, with Ovid, to the Get.    

XVI. Ad Jacobum Commetinum med. cum operibus Cratonis.  

Qui (toties non est miserum aegrotare?) quotannis  
Sanâsti officio Meque M●osque tuo;  
E● ti●i Cratonem Magnum! i● feliciter Ille,  
Et tu rem medicam (sic voveo) facias.  
Sic facis; & salvum te semper p●aestet Apollo:  
 possis medicam porrige●e usque manum.    

XVII. Ad Thomam Carew, apud J. C. cum Davenantii Poëmatiis.  

TEque meum, cùm triste fuit mihi tempus, amorem,  
Offi●iis dico demeruisse tuis:  
Meque tuum, si sortè occasio detur, amorem,  
Officiis dices demcruisse meis.  
Si placet, interea, hoc graudis non grande Po●tae,  
Ingenii dignum munus habeto tui.    

XVIII. To Mr. T. S. at his General's Funeral, Colonel Myn.  

SIr, could I tune my song as sweetly o'er  
Your General's hearse, as doth the Swan before  
He dies, you might expect, at th' Funeral,  
Something from Me, worthy your General.  
Let others, in He●oic Poems, sing  
His praise, and worthily. I'll only bring  
S●me sighs and tears, not from dissembling Art,  
But such as rise from a dejected Hea●t.  
When you shall mention, how he did excel  
In valour and fidelity; how well  
The soldier and the city loved him; there  
From my sad melting eye shall drop a Tear.  
When, at your Periods, some, amongst the Crowd▪  
T' approve you● grateful Se●mon, him a loud;  
Though I extremely love your piety,  
My Commendation shall be a sigh.   

Thus, in rude sighs and Tears, I celebrate  
The Dead. True Grief is not elaborate.    

XIX. To Mr. Laurence Womock, after th● taking of Hereford, 1645.  

IF Preachers may be crowned, as Poets may,  
You as your Name, shall surely wear the Bay:  
But Laurence, when so many now make suit,  
And preach long Sermons, who before were mute;  
Why are not you employed? You preach as long:  
But this weakens your Cause, You preach too strong.  
And you're put back, now I more nearly see,  
Because you have a spice of Prelacy.  
No matter▪ Fr●end; contentedly forbear:  
Your eloquence shall find a Lady sear.    

XX. To Mr. Turner, when the Governor had given him one of his Live.  

SEe how it goes! I that do preach and teach;  
Though your perfection I cannot reach,  
In chair or Pulpit; here amuselesse now,  
And, for our faculties sake, I think, on you  
Am c●st. The Question 'twixt us shall soon end:  
I'll be your Curate, and so keep my Friend.    

XXI. Ad D. Ro. Bosworthium, cum invitatus non veniret.  

TEque, tuosque velim, mitis Bosworthe, sodales,  
Innocuis mixtas salibus esse dapes:  
Ceciliusque, Philippusque, & quo●●atsius ille,  
Powellu●que tuus, Vinaliusque ferunt.  
Illis pr● largo, cum caetera reddis, amore,  
Quid mihi das? Veniam, dulcis Amice, dabis.    

XXII. On the translations by Sir Ro. Stapylton.  

WIse Juv'nal, neat Musaeus, Ovid sweet,  
The Belgic bellic History, in meet  
And equal phrase to th' Greek and Latin, all  
English! You by what Title shall we call?  
A polite Courtier, Grave Philosopher,  
Poet, Historian, and Soldier.  
The Authors, you translate, have the Great Seal,  
To make them free of th' Engiish Common weal.    

XXII. On Mr. Howels Vocal Forest.  

've made the Oak, Vine, Olive, and the rest,  
Discourse rare passages, as became them best:  
The Laurels, you have highly honoured too;  
And 'tis their Gratitude to honour you.  
A sprig or Branch is not enough. If we  
May have a Vote, you shall have a whole Tree.    

XXIII. Upon a Visit of my La. C.  

IT calls to mind the times Heroic, when  
Angels descended to converse with men:  
It calls to mind the Day, when Angels sung  
God's glory, earth's peace, Good w●ll men among.  
The Prince of Glory, to save man from sin,  
Made h●s first Visit to the poorest In;  
And to the wilderness he took his way,  
To reduce home the sheep, was gone astray.  
This lowliness and Meekness did forerun,  
And c●use his glorious exaltation.  
Even so, Great Perso●s a●e not of less Rate,  
This divine Goodness when they imitate.  
By these their high Humilities, they are,  
And Condiscensions the Greater far.  
Our Visit was not silent: She did say  
Words, that are Music to me every day:  
They dwell in m'●ar and memory: to express  
Them on this paper, were to take them less.    

XXIV. Upon the Decease of my Infant-Lady.  

EVen so, the nipping wind in May doth come,  
And b●ast the choicest fruit, in the first bloom:   

Yet shall this Blossom of Nobility,  
Preserved by Angel's care, immortal be:   

Such delicate Body's sleep, and are la●d by,  
In their R●positories. I hay do not die.    

XXV. Upon the Scholar's succeeding S●uld●ers at Sudeley Castle. To my Lo. C.  

MY Lord, If we kept Garrison in your House,  
●e should perhaps, after th● Soldiers use,  
Welcome your Honour with Artillery,  
As now we do w●●h o●r Poetry.  
But, we believe, your L●r●ships better pleased,  
The Castle's of th● Garrison now eased;  
And will prefer the Gentle M●ses Lyre,  
Before the thundering Ma●s his smoke and fire.  
You're our Good Angel; to your Gracious eyes,  
We offer up this Paper-sac●●fice.  
Nor make we any excuse, for, in our s●nse,  
The Pardon's sure, where Duty's the offence.    

XXVI. Sudeley to Rowill.  

ROwill, the Hills, on which thou sit'st, do not  
So much exalt thee, as my Lord, thou'st got  
Into thy bosom, when I desert lie,  
Vouchsafed perhaps a glance of's passing eye.  
I must confess, at present thy low roof  
(The Hills too're fit for his Horse's hoof)  
Excels my Turret's, and whilst He is there,  
Sudeley is scarce said to continue here.  
The time will come, if our Hopes be not vain,  
When Sudeley shall be Sudeley once again:  
And Thou, my envied Rowill (no more harm  
I wish thee) shalt return into a Farm.    

XXVII. Rowill to Sudeley.  

WHat if my Lord well knowing the unrest  
Of Palaces and Courts, doth think it best,  
Sometimes to choose a sol●tary place,  
And it with his beloved presence grace?  
Envy not, stately Sudeley, it's not thy Crime,  
That is the cause, but Troubles of the Time.  
Peace, banished from Great Houses, is retired  
To Me, and such like Corners. I desired  
My Lord should breathe himself a w●●le with Me;  
When War is ended, let him dwell with Thee.    

XXVIII. Amico nobili D. Gul. Higford, cum elogiis Thuan.  

QVid me non dignum tanto digna●is honore,  
O decus, ô ●atriae gloria magna tuae!  
Scilicet, ingenii cum praeste● ipse vigore:  
Obscuro lucem conciliare placet?  
Sim vanus, nisi me laudes meruisse negáro,  
Quas tua facundè Musa benigna dedit.   

Nec tamen immeritas aspernor: non mihi ●ale  
Ingenium, nec ita est cornea fibra mihi.  
En, ●●bi Docto●um Elogia (at ne s●erne) virorum  
Doo: Tibi par nullum scribiter Elogium.    

XXIX. Mens regnum bona possidet, etc. Sen.  

RIches exalt not men on high,  
No● costly clothes of Tyrian die:  
Nor Court, no● Crown, nor other thing,  
Is the mark proper of a King.  
He, that from all base fears hath rest;  
That banishes vice from his breast;  
Whom no Ambition doth move,  
Nor the unconstant people's l●ve;  
Whose Mind's his best Dominion,  
Free from unruly passion;  
He's truly King. Thus if you live,  
A Kingdom to yourself you give.    

XXX. Answer to one, that asked why he loved a Gentlewoman, not extreme handsome.  

THe Reason, Sir, is, if you would needs know,  
That which the Poet hath expressed so:  
There's no such thing as that we beauty call,  
It is mere cozenage all:  
For, though some long ago  
Liked certain colours mingled so and so,  
That doth not tie me now from choosing new?  
If I a fancy take  
To black and blue,  
That fancy doth it Beauty make.    

XXXI. His Love.  

HOw can I choose but place my highborn Love,  
Where I these Graces find come from above?  
Humble in Heart, in mind discerning, chaste  
And temperate in Body, without vast  
Unlimited Desires; whose passions all,  
At their Queen Reason's voice, both rise and fall:  
Courteous in speech and gesture: of a Face,  
Which Modesty and Mildness sweetly grace:  
Ears undefiled: Restrained Eyes: a Tongue  
Well governed, ●eady to defend, not wrong:  
To God devout: a Friend unfeigned: prone  
To give and forgive▪ Good to all; Best to One.  
These beauty's ●nvy can't see;  approve:  
I see, and seeing cannot choose but love.    

XXXII. At the Funeral of his School-fellow C. M.  

COme Scholars, I invite you all,  
Unto your Fellows Funeral;  
Not to afflict yourselves and gr●eve,  
But take a lesson how to live:  
Of the Dead learn Humility,  
Obedience, love, modesty:  
Learn, what to Scholars learning gains,  
Assiduous Industry and pains:  
Learn, above all, to think upon,  
How soon a mortal life is gone:  
And seeing this life is perplexed,  
Esteem him blest, whose turn is next:  
Whilst we with toil do con our parts,  
He's raised above all humane Arts:  
He needs no more Tuition;  
For lecture, he hath Vision.    

XXXIII. Another.  

ANd shall we never meet again? no way?  
Neither a● Sc●oo●, nor Field; at Books, nor play  
Is death so envious to our harmless Age,  
To cal●●● thus untimely off the stage?  
Or is't not envy, but more pity; 'cause  
Such Tragedy's are acted here: the Laws,  
And Learning silenced by the Drum▪ 'Tis so;  
I see what's best; come all away, let's go.  
Let's leave this evil world, while we are Young,  
Untainted by this Generation.    

XXXIV. Vp●n the Death of his Brother C. M. to his Uncle R M.  

I Have heard that Man himself is only spirit,  
And doth no die, but only goes to inherit  
A better ●ife; that he ●s then set free,  
And rescued from the Body's Custody.  
If this be all the hurt that Death can do us,  
Why should we fear our De●th, when it comes to us,  
Or, grieve our Friend-departure? 'tis no cros●,  
Unless we think our Friend's gain is our loss,  
●et am not I so wife to moderate  
The sorrow for my Brother's ea●ly fate,  
On such Considerations. If I st●y  
The Current of my Tea●●, I must needs say,  
'Tis through a childish in advertency,  
And wa●t of w●t, sadly to weigh, what I  
Have lost in such a Brother: how I am  
Half dead, at least, in him. Brother's a name  
More near than Friend: and Friends are styled the same.  
This would pierce de●p, did I not find in you,  
Brother and Uncle, yea and Father too.    

XXXV. Epitaphium Magistri T. Reading.  

Qui potuit fel●ce Scholam formare Minerva;  
Cujus ab o●e ●ios pulpita docta sono●;  
●ui mores, simul Jugenium praeclara dedere  
No●ina, Quem vivum to● coluere ●oni▪  
〈◊〉 E●●●viae hic compostae pace quie●●unt:  
Ipse sed est coelo redditus ante sue.    

XXXVI. An Epitaph upon Mr. Jo. Thomas.  

VAin Mortal, bid conceits Adieu:  
Happiness lost was never true.  
Art thou ●orn in noble place?  
●● thy ' Education like thy Race?  
Hast thou of Land, and Wealth such store,  
That thou wouldst desire no more?  
Hast thou a wise virtuous and fair,  
Ready to bless thee with an hei●?  
Hast thou Honour? Hast th●u Friends?  
Hast thou all that Fortune lends?  
Pride not thyself. Lo, here lies One,  
Who had all these: and He is gone.    

XXXVII. Upon the same.  

RUde Death was't fit, that thy pale hand should light  
Upon that Face, and in eternal night  
Close up those eyes? Hadst thou but a while stood,  
And viewed him first, his youth, his beauty, his good  
Graces and virtues: Th●se might mitigate,  
If aught could move inexorable Fa●e.  
But thou, greedy of a rich prize, in haste  
Our Friend in thy cold kill arms embraced.  
Keep what thou canst of him: but know, thou must  
Be accountable for that precious Dust.    

XXXVIII. Upon the Death of Mrs. Dorothy Thomas.  

A Divine Gift, is expressed in her Na●e.  
And in he● l●fe and death she was the same.  
A divine Gift, she was first in her Birth,  
Blessing her parents, and adorning earth:  
A divine Gift ●nto her Husband dear,  
When Marriage made them a most happy pair:  
A divine Gift in Death, where in She is  
Returned unto everlasting Bliss.  
Her Name she doth in life and death maintain,  
Fi●st Given by God, then Given to God again.    

XXXIX. Upon her Dying few days after her Husband, Great with Child.  

WAs not the noble Husband sacrifice  
Sufficient to please the angry eyes  
Of cruel Destiny, but the wif● too,  
So virtuous, so young, so fair, so true.  
Must with him to the Grave▪ Were not they twain,  
Enough for Death, but they must die again  
In their young child, and that i'th' ve●y womb,  
Taking the Mother's body for h●s Tomb.  
A● Death! thrice cruel Death! Can we  
That could not bear one b●ow, bear three?    

XL. Upon my La. C. and her sisters coming into the Country, in a very rainy ' Day.  

WHy do the heavens thus melt in streams to day,  
At the approach of Virtuous Ladies, say:  
'Tis not for sorrow at so fair a sight;  
They're tears of ●oy ●hat thus eccl●pse the light.  
And see, the Fit being past the heavens look clear,  
Opening their flaming eye to see them here.  
Here may they pass time with content, and stay,  
Lest Heaven weep sadly when They go away.    

XLI. Pro Schola reparata: Ad Maecenates.  

EIoquar? at tenerae vix est audacia linguae.  
Eloquar: & liceat cuilibet esse p●o.  
Me pietas gratum esse jubet: nam me quoque tangit  
Ornatae vestro munere cura Scholae.  
Quas possum Grates habeo, persolvere dignas  
Non opis est: Tenuis Gratia grata Bonis.  
Pergitevos gratas Musas decorare, patroni:  
Et pergent Musae vos decorare piae.    

XLII. In Crastinum Beatae Luciae.  

Quis clamor turbat tranquilla silentia noctis?  
Cur, Pueri, multâ curritis, ecce, face?  
Agnosco; fulsit Puerts sanctissima, dulcis  
Lucit; Grata Scholae Lucia luce magis.    

XLIII. In D. Doctorem Kerry, & Uxorem ejus piae Memoriae.  

UNus Amor vinxit concordia pectora: & una  
Alimenta p●aebui● pauperibus Charitas.  
Ambos una dies g●andae vos Justu●it: U●a  
Recondit (ô Beatos!) u●na, Cineres.    

XLIV. In Sholam torridam.  

HE●●! Q●antus no●aestus habet! Pater, audis, Apollo,  
Ig●●●●n 〈◊〉 ●●b●es mi●●us e●adi●s.  
Musarum, nosti, D●●●us est haec culta tuarum;  
Ft per 〈…〉 sonare melos.  
Insuper, ●ic planta florescunt, ecce, ten●llae:  
C●udelis fruct●●●●ere, Phoebe, potes?    

XLV. Aliter.  

PErvida sole calet nimio Schola, Maxime Phoebe,  
M●●●us in terras rad antia lumina sparge!  
Nec Te adeo fallit; no sti namque omnia Phoebus;  
Haec sibi caelestes assumunt limina Musae:  
Sunt & adhuc tenerae plantae (audi ment paternâ?)  
Nec sufferre valent servorem solis iniqui.   
P. S.   

XLVI. Upon the School extreme hot in the Summer.  

IS it not wondrous hot! O dear  
Father Apollo, shoot thy Rays  
More gently: know'st thou not that here  
Thy loved Muses make their lays?  
Besides, O hear!  
Our plants are young,  
And cannot bear  
The scorching Sun.    

XLVII. De Euryalo & Niso: Aen. 9  

Quis Deus, O Juvenes; quae vos tam dira cupido  
Excitat ad Martis praelia non parilis?  
Nise, cur Furyalum Tu in tanta pericula ducis?  
Eu▪ yale, ah! Nisum cur velis ipse sequi?  
Est ea vis animis. Tendunt in praelia. Somno  
Co●pora pressa gravi multa dedere neci.  
Ambobus fuit unus Amor, Victoria & una;  
Sorsque una, h●u! nimium ●●ortis acerba suit.    

XLVIII. Aliud.  

NIsus ut hostili morientem cuspide vidit  
Euryalum, in medios percitus, ecce, ruit.  
His fuit idem animus diverso corpore clausus:  
Pa●te h●c sublat●, ●am fugit illa simul.   
P. S.   

XLIX. Upon the loss of some Copies.  

ALa● poor Verses?— why do I complain?  
No matter ●f they ne'er be found again.  
Lament the loss, the irreparable loss  
Of ●i●●ie's Decades, Tully's Hortensius,  
Or his Republica! Terent's Comedy,  
Or his M●nanders; Ovid's Fas●● be,  
And such like Poems worth the naming: These  
Ex tempo●e Vers●s may be repaired with ease.  
Unless the Reader take all to the Best,  
You may complain, you did not lose the Rest.    

L. To ●is Scholar's.  

AS tender parents, with their Children, may  
Go● to Hide and Seek, and other childish play:  
So I, that should have closed this youthly vein  
Long since, for your sakes open it again.    

Non erit grave, si adjecero hanc Praeceptoris Responsionem ad Valedictoriam Petri Smithi, ad pueros itidem excitandos.  
GRa●●lo●●i●i, mi Fili, te talem genuisse. Eum te indicat O●atio tua, de quo liceat paulum gloriari. Nec aequum est probum dimittere Discipulum, nisi merito Elogio honestatum. In moribus tuis pietatem agnosco, & modestiam, assiduam in studiis d●ligentiam. Literis Graecis pariter ac Latinis ita excultus e●, ut nemo antecedentium, meo quidem tempore, fuerit magis. Grammaticus, Poeta, Rhetor, Historicus, logices etiam elementa & Mathematices primis, quod a●unt, labris d●gustati. Et nunc pleniori haustu sitim tuam explebit Oxontum. Plura di●e●●m in laudem tuam, nisi te laudanda facere, quam laudes audire mallem. Itaque, quod reliquum est, te hortor erudite ac dilecte Adolescen●, ut laudibus te semper dignum praebeas: ut Scholae nostrae idem evadas & ornamentum & exemplum. Habebis in Tutorem, ●uvenem doctum, probum, pium, olim ex hâc Schola●●ta, cum Tutorem huic Scholae debeas, cogitate & Philosophi●m debiturun. In Aulam B. Mariae cooptandus, ex me scias, Romanensibus in more positum, ut Opera sua Mariae dedicent: Tu vero teipsum & tua omnia Soli Deo Opt. Max. Consecrare debes. Cujus Gratiae innixus 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Quod ut fiat, precor, non Sancta Mariatibi ad sit propitia, sed Christus.  
FINIS.    

THE COTSALL MUSE.  
II. Part.  MARTIAL. 
Sunt bona, sunt quaedam mediocria; sunt mala plura Quae legis: hic aliter non fit, A●ite, liber.  
Some Epigrams are good, some are so so:  
(This is the fate of books) the bad are more.  
LONDON, Printed for F. A. at Worcester. 1651.   

DEDICATION.  
To the Hopes of Hawling, Mr. Henry and Mr. Richard Stratfords.  

YOu, although yet but very young,  
Perhaps will listen to my song:   

On your Hills doth the Shepherd keep,  
As good as any Cotsall sheep.   

And seeing your pastures fruitful are,  
My Muse, I know, shall not go bare.   

May Both of you live long and thrive,  
And your learned Father's name revive.    

SECOND PART.  

I. To Mr. Fra. powel of Ch. Ch.  

FRanc, I was writing to you, and bitten my pen,  
And scratched too for a Verse, once and again:  
But then my tender Muse told me, she knew,  
You were too much a Critic, and withdrew.    

II. The Muse craves entertainment.  

GEntlemen, I have travelled far; and now,  
Some Bonus Genius guided me to you:  
I do not come, to put you to much cost,  
Provide for me, neither your baked nor roast.  
Give leave to rest my ●eet, weary and bare;  
A hard Bed contents me, and harder Fare.    

III. Cornelia Mother to the Gracchis, è Jul. Scaligero.  

SCipio me genuit; genui Cornelia Gracchoes:  
Quid mirum est, genitam fulmine far faces!   

Scipio got me, I Graccbies bare. No wonder:  
If fiery brands came from One begot of Thunder.    

iv To Mrs. Jane Commelin, upon the birth of her second Daughter, at the burial of the first.  

Cousin, See what reward from Heaven you have!  
So soon as your loved Daughter was i'th' Grave,  
Whom God took from you, for Correction  
Of your excessive love; a resurrection,  
To recompense your patience, from the Tomb  
Is granted her, through your fruitful womb.  
You may conceive, that as the languished here,  
She, by degree, did take a new growth there.  
Nor need you call this child another name;  
But fancy it to be the the very same.   

So, when you pluck a fresh Rose; where it stood,  
There presently springs up a second Bud.    

V To Dr. Roger's Canon of Hereford, at his first Residence.  

THe Persian Magis, to the new born King,  
Present their Gold, as the first offering:  
Duty commands me, give somewhat of mine  
To our new born Canonical Devine.  
'Tis a small piece. Had I the rich man's store,  
My learned Doctor, I would give you more.  
I'd give you as large presents, as the rest,  
Whom you now entertain at your Great Feast:  
Not so great as your lectures. We had in Them,  
Dainties from Athens and Jerusalem.    

VI A new years' Gift to Dr. Bosworth, Physician of Hereford.  

DOctor, This is the only piece of Gold,  
Brought me this good Time. Gratitude grows old,  
And fa●nt, in Scholars. No reward hath He,  
That is an Informator of School-free.  
Nay, which is more: In all my Parish, none  
Hath vouchsalt me a Church-oblation.  
Did I perhaps a School unlincensed teach;  
Or some new lecture to the people preach;  
I should then at their Feasts, my fingers lick,  
Have Gold in purse, and Cassok wear of silk.  
Be it as ' 'tis. You will this Fee approve,  
In stead of more Gold, a true Golden Love.    

VII. A present to an oblivious Friend.  

DEar Sir, Two new books of the same I send,  
That when, as you are wont, the One you lend,  
Tother may constantly upon you wait,  
As Monitor, lest you forget me straight.    

VIII. To the same.  

I Understand, 'tis somewhat grievious,  
That my rude Muse called you Oblivious;  
Frown not, my Friend, your Memory I will spare;  
If, at my need, mine your Affection's are.  
I give you leave never to think on me,  
Till, by some Office, you may useful be.  
'Tis not the oft Remembrance shows a friend,  
But friendly Office. So let the Quarrel end.    

IX. To one that loved not Verses.  

WHen, with ingenuous freedom, I rehearse  
My, not amorous nor fair, yet comely Verse:  
With wrinkled face, thou criest out, Vanity!  
Now prithee, what is all that's done by thee?    

X. Upon his seven Children: two Girls dead, one alive, and four Boys.  

THe divine Goodness! which I have often tried;  
A pair to seven is quickly multiplied.  
Two that were wisest, quickly made return,  
(Pardon me this one te●●, falls on their Urn:)  
The female remanent, with observant eye,  
I'd have to learn her Mother's hu●wifry.  
To the four boys, I'd leave th●s legacy,  
(God giving) my Arts and Theology.  
If I can breed them Scholars, there is none  
Can say, I gave them not a portion.  
In ●he mean time, I heart'ly wish, The Quorum  
Would grant me, but Jus trium liberorum.    

XI. On the Death of Mr. Fr. Pink.  

ARe thy eyes closed, my learned Oculist,  
And t●y clear light extinguished? What, is't  
No herb, within thy spacious knowledge, can  
Cur● th● D●se●se of the Physician?  
I know wha● shut thine e●es; thine eyes did see  
Much wh●ch thou wouldst ●●t: And thy Grief  
For public Evils, weighed down thy life.  
Go, and find Simples now, (until we come  
And meet there,) i'th' Groves of Elysium.    

XII. To Dr. Charlton.  

BRother, Thy Helmont's deep mysterious Art  
I will not censure. But, in every part,  
I saw such wit, and bright new language shine,  
Without the Title, soon I judged it Thine.  
One thing I blame▪ d (yet I know 'twas well meant)  
With too la●ge an Elogium it was sent.    

XIII. Upon Dr. Croft, Dean of Hereford, his first Residence.  

THe people looked for their good cheer and wine,  
According to th' old Custom: By a fine  
Devise you do evade (though the sad days  
May well excuse not feasting, many wa●s)  
You, in your Grave and learned lectures▪ bring,  
To feast us, Great Melc●iz●dec the King;  
Your Auditors, intent on you, still seed;  
And taste t●e wine, He brought for Abraham's need:  
This when the Townsmen heard th● ●hu●ch-●en say,  
They envied our good cheer and went their way.    

XIV. To Sir William Croft, with Thuani P●incipes.  

WIse Sir, when I considered, how I might  
Th●nk you for th● Letter you were pleased to write,  
In favour of me, to that Prelate, who  
Thinks it reward enough of Good, to do:  
This Manuscript was ●eady at command,  
And all my Prince's haste to kiss your hand:  
Here you have divers Knights and Prelates too,  
Some few like Him, and fewer such as you.    

XV. Upon Dr. Brown Dean of Hereford, Preaching.  

YOnder he is▪ prepare and purge your care;  
You shall a Chrysostom or Ambrose hear;  
With heavenly strains of divine Nazianz●n:  
Such voice, such stile, such gesture as those Men,  
(We believe) used, when in their Homilies,  
They drew so many Tear● from sinners eyes:  
Not more than This, by his sad sacred Theme  
Of De profundis, and Jerusalem.    

XVI. D. M. Godwino, Praelectori Heref.  

VIs'n verum? mi Praelector doctissime, vestra  
Lectura est Clero plurima, nulla poplo.    

XVII. Mr. Stephano Philips Praelectori Electo, Paulo ante urbem captum. 1645.  
AHduros hostes▪ tua quod Facundia mollis,  
Quam vota exposcunt nostra, reclusa fuit.   

XVIII. To Mr. John Beale.  

YOu that have read Socinus, Crellius,  
And the Interpreter Volkelius,  
Yet to the English Church have given your name,  
Led by a discreet judgement; not by fame,  
Or 'cause you knew no other, from your Youth  
Bred up in this: They that embrace the Truth,  
On such weak Grounds, are still in error: Friend,  
I call you without scruple, without end:  
Nor w●ll I care for their unlearned mocks,  
That, beside Calvin, think nought Orthodox.  
I mention Him not for dishonour, but  
I think all Truth was not in one brain shut.    

XIX. To the religious pair of widows Mrs. P. Green, and Mrs. M. Russel, with the La. falkland's life.  

I Know, when you have once perused it,  
You must confess the Book a present fit.  
This Lady was composed of Alms and Prayer:  
You live in Imitation of Her.  
Truly Religious, yet was she timorous too:  
In this is no disparity: so are you.  
By advise of Holy men, she still o'ercome  
Her fears and scruples: Do not you the same?  
She died with comfort, partakes heavenly joy:  
That you may do so too, at last, I pray.    

XX. To Dr. Warren, with return of his Henry. VIII.  

THe Book you lent, writ by Cherbery's Lord,  
Much satisfaction did me afford:  
I now am more in love with that brave Prince,  
Since we received this true Intelligence.  
This Author gives, not the reports of Fame,  
But the Records. Therefore record his Name.  
All Pamphlets that have blurred this King, are not,  
Compared to this Work, worth an old Harry groat.    

XXI. An Apology, for naming some Honourable and Reverend persons, in his verses.  

BUt, now I think on't, I'll make no excuse,  
For that some honourable names I use  
In my poor Rhymes. 'Tis a small fault, in an Age,  
So many Great Ones are hist off the Stage.  
People are bold: yet presume would not I,  
To name them, but in honour to their Memory.    

XXII. Upon a new Book of justification, promised by my L. C.  

MAdam, you promised, and I did believe,  
After y'had read the Book, you would it give.  
I heard you left it for me: and I do,  
With a most easy Faith, believe that too.  
It met with some deceitful hand, I fear;  
His faith will never justify, I'll swear.    

XXIII. Upon Verses made in his sleep.  

ME thought, I said, They are very well, and so!  
They shall continue. Then I waked, and, O!  
I cried They vanish! where d'ye take your flight!  
Stay! Now I have them. Now th' are out of sight.  
A while they do thus on my Fancy wave:  
A piece or two, but now; now, none I have.  
Waking, I never shall recover them. Once more  
I'll sleep: They'll come, as they did come before.    

XXIV. Upon Zuinglius. è Thuani Elogiis.  

ZVinglius was slain i'th' Front, my Author saith;  
A stout Defender of Reformed Faith.  
God took his soul: His Body, th' enemy's Ire  
Consumed, as hereticail, with fire;  
All, but his Heart. His hearty Faith, his name,  
And pious Memory, die not in the flame.    

XXV. Upon Luther. ex eodem.  

HE died not borribly, as the Papists say;  
But, in a quiet manner, went away  
To a better life: And, but the Night before,  
To his friend Justus Ionas, and some moro,  
Discoursed of life eternal. Where, saith He,  
I nothing doubt, again I shall you see.  
Being dead, Two Princes for his Body strave,  
And carried him with honour to the Grave.    

XXVI. On the Snow, on New-year's day.  

SUre the celestial Swan, to make a Feast,  
Is plucked this Morn, for Jupiter and the rest  
Of's company. None of the flesh is meant  
For us; only he hath the ●eather sent.  
Good Omen! though the Token be but light:  
The following year shall not be black, but white.    

XXVII. To Mr. Tho: Williams, at the ●emple.  

SIr, if my Muse come 'fore the Terms begun,  
And can get leave o● Cook and Littleton,  
To speak with you, but a few minutes, know,  
Here are in Cotsall, those th●t think on you.  
And so we shall, as long as air, we draw,  
'Cause in our Cases, you give us the Law.    

XXVIII. To Mr. Ant: Stratford.  

YOu, who are ready, both to gac, and ride;  
And spea●, ●nd do for me; I must not hid,  
Nor your Love, nor my Gratitude; but here  
I fix it, though but in a little sphere.    

XXIX. M. Georgio Stratford T. B. CCC.  

SI fortè Oxoniae Musam Tu videris alma  
Errantem, hospitio suscipe, Amice, tuo.  
Auribus indigna est vestris? Ignoscite; nostra  
(Non vobis) pueris rustica Musa canit.    

XXX. Mr. R. Samasio, CCC.  

QVando immemor sui, Tu meministi mei;  
Et me suavi alloquio tenuisti Tuo:  
Ipse igitur immemor, mi Samasi, Tui  
Non sum, Mei nunc memor; at nec vivens ero.    

XXX. To Mr. Fra. thorn.  

Cousin, I thank you, you did send to Me,  
Shoulder and Umbles fat, the Keeper's Fee:  
That I who daily live by my Lord's meat,  
Might sometime some of Sudeley Venison eat.  
One favour more I pray do not deny,  
Now 'tis well baked, come and take part o'th' pie.    

XXXII. To Mr. Tho. Bridges.  

SIr, in your last sweet Letter, you did tell,  
My Lady hath been ill. Whence, She is well,  
By an easy Figure I collect, and p●ay,  
At due time, she an Heir, and with him joy,  
May bring her noble Lord, and Ours. But than  
You go on, and are pleased to say, My pen  
You honour. So you do indeed, when thus,  
Out of your Courtesy, you Answer us.  
I wish, such praise to my poor pen were due,  
That it might worthy be, to serve and honour you.  
Your Book shall be returned which you sent white,  
Blurred with some Notes, seeing you force me to write.    

XXXIII. To Mr. powel for the fair wax-light he sent me.  

A Welcome token! Since, in the Holy Choir,  
I filled one Stall, at the harmonious prayer,  
I have not seen the like. This I shall use,  
Not for to fire my pipe, nor yet to choose  
My morsels. But, when, like the labouring Bee,  
I view my learned Author's, and would see  
To gather Honey from them, than your wax  
Shall gild my silent Night. Now, lest you tax  
Me for ungrateful, I this paper write,  
A light requital, for your better light.    

XXXIV. To Mrs. Sufanna Charlton, On the death of her Mother, May, 23. 1649.  

THe sun was at his Rise, and did begin  
To gi●d the earth, when that pure soul, kept in  
Her mortal case by Night's cold hand, her strength  
Put forth, and raising up herself at length  
Took flight to heaven: Heaven, a far fit place  
For souls endued with celesta●l Grace.  
And will you weep, now ●he ●s happy? will  
You envy heaven that new-come star? and still  
Deject your mournful eye to earth, as if  
There were no other but this dying life!  
But you have lost her Company: You know  
A way to find her out again, and so  
Revi●e your Conversation. 'Tis this;  
Let your Thoughts dwell in heaven for there she is.    

XXXV. To Mr. William Burton, upon his Clemens Rom.  

WIll, I received the Title of your Book,  
And for the Book itself I long did look.  
Why sent you it not? Unless you think indeed,  
That I, not Books, but only litles read.  
Well, though I purchased it, at a dead lift,  
For money, I will set it down, Thy Gift.  
And, for Names sake, though he a Bishop be,  
Yet I will much esteem him, and for Thee.    

XXXVI. In morte Gulielmi Fratris.  

CVr adco (quaeris) libet indulgere dolori?  
Est mortuus uno funere Frater-Pater.    

XXXVII. Grotius de verit. Relig. Englished. To John and Richard Hows,  

COsins, I will deal plainly, some do say;  
Because they are so loath their tithe to pay,  
Our Yeomen sure think not Religion true:  
(Although this Crime I don't impute to you:)  
This Book, though written in a higher strain,  
Than what they use to read, doth not disdain  
Itself to offer to their rougher hands  
Entreating gentle usage; and commands,  
By strongest Reasons, They henceforth believe  
There is a God, and so no longer grieve  
His servants, and deny their old Rewards:  
Themselves shall gain by it: if they cast their cards    


Rightly; Gain, what they love with all their heart,  
Good Harvests, when the Parson hath his part    

XXXVIII. To a Gentlewoman, with Dr. Featly's Handmaid.  

A Handmaid I present to wait on you:  
Accept her to you● service; and with true  
Devotion serve your God. His service is  
Our freedom: His Reward will be our bliss.  
Your piety hath a present fit: If small;  
Know, He that sent you This, would give you All.    

XXXIX. Of Beauty.  

IN love, if I do rightly measure it,  
That is most beautiful that is most sit.  
Why else would lusty Jack, 'fore every one  
Of the fair Ladies, prefer homely ●one?    

XL. Upon Dido. Ausonii.  

INfelix Dido, nulli bene nupta marito!  
Hoc pereunte fugis, hoc fugiente peris.   

Wife, twice unhappy in thy Genial Bed!  
Thou fled'st when one died: Dyd'st when th' other fled.    

XLI. Upon the Histories of the late Wars.  

AS the Armies did against each other fight;  
Even so do our modern Historians write:  
Each for his side. The Stationer says, Buy both:  
Compare them, and you may pick out the Truth.    

XLII. To Mr. Savage.  

SIr, Though your Name be noble, yet your parts  
Make you more noble, Your ingenious Arts,  
Your piety, your liberality,  
And (though now private) Hospitality.  
Before the late Decay, (if that I can  
Judge right) such was the English Gentleman.    

XLIII. To Mr. Edward Carew.  

I Think upon, what once I heard you tell,  
Your new borne Daughter was so extremely well  
Composed and featured, that you ne'er did spy  
So pure a Beauty wi' your impartial eye.  
But then, you ●aid, within a little space,  
Was lost and vanished that exceeding Grace.  
That Grace, Sir, is not lost: It is retired:  
An dill appear again, when She's a Bride.   

Yet if we this observe, 'tis very Right:  
No credit to be given at first sight.    

XLIV. To Squire Higford, upon his Grandfather's Book.  

THe English Gentleman, and the Complete,  
I have read long since, but this Book, of your great  
And learned Fat●er, doth surpass them all;  
We justly may, Him the Grandfather call.  
Precepts, which he so learnedly doth give,  
And lovingly, How can you choose but live!    

XLV. The wolf and the Lamb. Phaedri.  

ADrivum eundem lupus & Agnus venerant,  
Siti compulsi: superior stabat lupus,  
Longeque inferior Agnus. Tunc fauce improba  
Latro in●itatus ●urgi● causam intulit.  
Cur, inquit, turbulentam fecisti mihi  
Aquam bib n●i? Laniger contra timens;  
Qui possum, quaes●, f●cere quod quereris, Lupe?  
A te decu●rit ad meos ●austus liquor.  
Repulsus ille veritatis vi●ibus,  
Ante hos sex menses, ait, maledixisti mihi.  
Respondit Agnus: Equidem natus non eram.  
Pater hercle tuus, inquit, maledixit mihi.  
Atque ita c●rreptum lacerat injusta niece.  
" Haec propter illos scripta est homines fabula,  
" Qui fictis causis innocentes opprimunt.   

Upon a time, to one fair stream,  
The revenous Wolf, and soft Lamb came;  
Both thirsty. The Wolf, he drank there  
Above; below, the Lamb drank here.  
But when the Thief with's greedy eye  
The trembling Wool-bearer did spy:  
Thou art, saith he, in danger brought,  
Because thou hast disturbed my draught.  
He answers meekly; How can't be?  
I drink at distance as you see.  
It was so evident, that thence  
The Wolf goes, and seeks new pretence.  
You did revile me with your Tongue  
Six months ago. 'Las! not so long  
Have I lived yet. Then 'twas your Dam:  
And so devours the silly Lamb.  
" Thus Men, when they oppress by might  
" Do never want pretended Right.    

XLVI. The Fox to a head of P●aister. Phaedri.  

PErsonam Tragicam fortè vulpes viderat:  
O quanta species, inquit, cerebrum n●n habet!  
" Hoc illis dictum, quibus honorem & gloriam  
" Fortuna tribui●, sensum communem abstulit.   

It is a very handsome face and head, that's plain,  
The Fox said: But where, O where is the brain!  
" Outward Adornment is not it;  
" When within is wanting wit.    

XLVII. To Mrs. Abigail Stratford.  

I Once thought it had only a Jest been.  
That Maids are marriageable at fourteen.  
But now I see 'tis Truth. You don't begin,  
Till July next, your fifteenth year: yet in  
Your person we see fitness. Not to seek  
Your praises from the Latin, or the Greek,  
Or th' Arts your Father taught: you are grown tall,  
As is your gentle Mother; and withal,  
From her assiduous Exemplar, You  
Discretion have to govern the House too.  
Phoebus, at your last w●lk, when he well eyed  
Your person, said, That Virgin's like a B●ide.   

My Muse had d●ne: I wished, she had forborn  
Your Cheek blushed, fair as is the Ro●y morn.    

XLVIII. D. Doctori Skynner. Cancell. Heref.  

Qui toties mensâ es, toties dignatus amicis  
Hunc hominem dictis; Nemo alius quoties:  
Absit, u● eximum patiar vanescere Nomen,  
Aut longe distans immemor esse Tui.  
Inter Amicorum tot nomina (●t grave) Nomen  
Tu patere, ut prostet, Doctor amice, Tuum.    

XLIX. D. D. Wright Doct. Medico.  

NOn adeo nostram obscurant oblivia mentem,  
Quia mem●ni q●an●um debeo, Amice, tibi.  
Debeo, sed non sum so●v●ndo. Forsitan olim  
Rem dedero, nunc jam non nisi verba dedi.    

L. Mr. Tho. Jamesio Col. O. A.  

NOn ubi terrarum legis, Ingeniose Jamesi,  
Scio: attamen Te esse in libris meis scias.  
Postremus quanquam legeris Tu carmine nostro;  
Audi Amicorum non post●emus tamen.    

Upon the new-Printing.  

THis Print's so fair and bright, in th' others stead,  
The Letter now invites and cries, Come, read.  
My little Boys are so ta'en withed, that They  
Printers will be and Stationers, they say.  
I bid them, be good Scholars: To Write well,  
Is better, than either to Print or Sell.    

Conclusion.  

JOhnson and Fletcher! Davenant and the rest!  
Why have you so my Fantasy possessed,  
That I can't choose but pass away in Rhyme,  
What I must give a strict account for, Time?  
What should I do? My Head ached and about  
To break, hath much ease gotten, now 'tis Out.  
Now I am fit, being freed from this short pain,  
To translate the wise Grotius again.   
Jan. 11.  
THE END.    

THE COTSALL MUSE.  
III. Part.  TERRENT. 
Homine imperito nunquam quicquam injustius:  
Qui nisi quod ipse facit, nil rectum putat.  
An empty fellow, puffed up with conceit,  
Beside his own, thinks no man's Verse is strait.  
LONDON, Printed for F. A. at Worcester. 1651.   

The Dedication of the Third Part.  
To my Nephew J. B.  

THe care thy Father once bestowed on Me,  
I very gladly would return to Thee.  
What I to Thee (thus love in a blood runs)  
Do thou communicate unto my Sons.  
I have no land to give, such is my Chance:  
Take this Poetical inheritance.  
A little here is best: because much more  
Of Poetry, perhaps would make you poor.    

THIRD PART.  

I. Lupus ad Canem.  

" QVàm dulcis sit libertas breviter proloquar.  
Cani perpasto, macie confectus Lupus  
Forte occurrit: salutantes dein invicem  
 restiterunt; Vnde sic quaeso nites,  
Aut quo cibo fecisti tantum corporis?  
Ego qui sum longe fortior, pereo fame.  
Canis simpliciter: Eadem conditio est tibi,  
Praestare domino si par officium potes.  
Quod? inquit ille. Custos ut sis liminis,  
A furibus tuearis & noctu domum.  
Ego verò sum paratus: nunc patior nives,  
Imbresque, in sylvis asperam vitam trabens:  
Quanto est facilius mihi sub tecto vivere,  
Et otiosum largo satiari cibo?  
Veni ergo mecum. Dum procedunt, aspicit  
Lupus à catena collum detritum Canis.  
Vnde hoc, amice? Nihil est. Dic quaeso tamen.  
Quia videor acer, alligant me interdiu,  
Luce ut quiescam, & vigilem nox quum venerit:  
Crepusculo solutus, qua visiem est vagor.  
Adfertur ultro panis, de mensa sua  
Dat ossa dominus, frusta jact●t familia,  
Et quod fastidit quisque pulmentarium:  
Sic sine labore venter impletur meus.  
Age, si quo est abire animus, est licentia?  
Non plane est, inquit. Fruere, quae laudas Canis.  
Regnare nolo, liber ut non sim mihi.    

The Wolf to the Mastif. Phaedro. 3.  

" HEre you shall briefly see,  
" How sweet is Liberty.   

THe starved Wolf a full fed-Mastif met.  
A●ter salute, the Wolf sa●d, Where dost get  
Such flesh about thee? I that have more might,  
And b●te more sharply, am thus hunger bit.  
Thou shalt be welcome Wolf (he doth reply)  
And far, if thou canst serve, as well as I.  
What service? Keep the door safe: and by night  
With thy loud barking put the Thieve● to flight.  
Content: now in the snow, rain, woods I live;  
'Tis far more easy sure with thee to thrive,  
Lie idle, and i'th' dry. Then come away.  
He sp●es his neck worn with the Choler: Pray  
How came this? It is nothing. Prithee tell.  
'Cause I am fierce, by day they chain me well:  
And in my kennel let me take mine ease:  
In the evening lose I wander where I please:  
I wait at Table, and have many a bone  
And meat too from my Master. Every one  
Casteth to me, what's on his Trencher left:  
So I grow fat, without or pain● or theft.  
That's good. But can't you go when, where you will?  
No, by no means. Then Mastif take thy fill.  
I for my part would not a Kingdom have  
(I'm sorry for thee) to be such a slave.    

II. To. Mr. Ro. Scudamoore.  

THink not, I only prattle with my Muse:  
Sometime I draw Pitiscus Hypo●enuse:  
Sometime I fathom the deep Stagyrite:  
Sometime I read Historians that writ  
Of States and Princes, and their bloody Wars,  
And am, methinks, embroiled in their jars.  
But, where the Golden letter is, that day,  
Scripture I read alone, and preach and pray.    

III. To L. Hedworth.  

WOuld I had broke my shins, before I had gone  
Thither (men use to say) or That had done!  
When you came with your soldiers to possess  
The Castle Sir, In courtesy, I confess,  
To lodge by Potmans' tow●, I brought you at night,  
(Beshrew the wench that brought me not more light)  
I say not whether I well or ill did do,  
But sure I broke my shins, and did it too.    

FOUR Upon Mr. William Laws. To Mr. Will. Brode.  

HE that made Music for a Prince's ear,  
Composed by nature for the pen, not spear;  
Whose band nor voice had never made a ●ar,  
Breathed out his last note in this fatali War.  
Farewell sweet Will: since thou our Chief didst die,  
We have no Music now, but Elegy.    

V Upon Mr. Henry Laws. To Mr. Jo. Philip's.  

HArry, if ever Brothers did agree,  
Thou and thine did most harmoniously.  
You have so excellently done your parts,  
YE have won all that delight in the sweet Arts.  
And, we o'th' Choir praise you the more for this,  
Because your well set Music sacred is.  
we'll make much of your Works; for who shall see,  
In aftertimes, two such as Will and Thee?   

The Ghost of Sandys in Elysium longs  
To have his joy increased by His-Your Songs.    

VI Upon Beggars lodged in the Col. Heref. 1645. To Col. B.  

SIr, we are not so bold to fight with God,  
But meekly do submit unto his Rod.  
Yet we may ask, why thus you do give le●ve,  
The nasty Beggars should our Chambers have.  
Do strangers spoil's for Incivility?  
All strangers drunk of our Humanity.  
Do th' poor possess All, cause we did not give  
Due Alms? poor people we did still ●elieve.  
D' ye mean, because you think that we want grace,  
To turn us out into the Beggar's place,  
As they're in Ours? What ere 'tis, We go Hence:  
religion hath taught us patience.    

VII. Upon the taking of Hereford, Decem. 1645. To Col. James Wroughton.  

WHy don't they break the Ice? I heard you say,  
The night that did precede that fatal day:  
(The day when the stout Judge was Prisoner, and  
So many Knights and Gallants, at command  
Of star●'d Soldiers, their Gold delivered) when  
The faithful Town was sold to Morgan's Men.  
And plundered Norm●n cried out, It had not  
Been worse, if we had yielded to the Scot  
'Twas well, they did not break the Ice. For why?  
Sir, you remember, who scap't over the Why.    

VIII. To bald Men. Phaedri. 5.  

IN veni● Calvus fortè in trivio pectinem:  
Accessit aliter aeque defectus pilis:  
Heja, inquit, Est commune quodcunque est lucri.  
Ostendit ille praedam & adjecit simul:  
Superum voluntas favit, sed fato invido;  
Carbonem, ut aiunt, pro thesauro invenimus.  
" Quem spes delusit, huic querella convenit.   

By th' way, a certain Man, who had no hair,  
A Comb took up. Another full as bare  
Seeing H●ad sound something, cries out Half is mine.  
I'm willing, said the first, Half should be thine:  
But neither of us can make use of this;  
(A coal for treasure) bade our good luck is.  
" So may every one complain,  
" That's disappointed of his gain.    

IX. To his Friends omitted.  

YOu ask me, why I do your Names forbear?  
Others do quarrel 'cause their Names are here.  
These only on my too much l●v● complain:  
You I'll remember, when I w●ite again.    

To the Printer.  

I Pray, take care; Th' Erratas are enough  
I'th' Book itself, although you Print it true.    

XI. Ad Guil. Turrium T. B.  

TE dono doct● Versibus Turri meis:  
Non ut premantu● tristi censurâ tuâ;  
Sed ut legantur Dominae Heydonae liberis,  
Quos Tu gubernas ●ite●, & mi●i manu.  
Tu maximo (ni grave) me commendatum habe,  
Meo Roberto pridem Auditori, precor.  
Sic Tu tuorum compos votorum sies,  
Ut nunc ●ibenter huic voto faves meo.  
Audis? Amicum quando vacabit visere?  
Nam nemo erit Ba●ks dallo gratior Tuo.  
Uxorculae▪ si place●t, nunti●s tuae,  
Quam pl●rimam salutem à me, ac etiam mea.    

XII. Mr. Freeman, Theologo Seni.  

QVantum dolebam nescis, quando aures mea▪  
Pulsavit ille rumor, Hominem perditum,  
Quem vescio, calcasse pedibus suis  
●enem verendum, faedasse & canos tuos.  
Flammis piandum scelus ultricibus! Vides,  
Quae Tempora (heu!) Clerum nunc vexant impote●●.  
Qui Te modis indignis tractavit Senem,  
Credo, tremuisset ad tua verba Juvenis.  
Quid debeas, novimus, ingenio libero:  
Vicunque ●i●er, posthabitis illis, mane.  
Nec anxius mentis, quaeso, nimium sies,  
Quod rustici Te Decimis defraudant Tuis.  
Qui pascit omnia, & Viduae auxit Oleum,  
Qui nec volucres unquam destituit cibo;  
Noli timere; Familiam pascet Tuam:  
Nolo timere; Fami●iam pascet Meam.    

XIII. In Phaedri Rigaltiani editionem Novam.  

Quis Aulicus hic veste recenti ambulans?  
Quos ore melleo pul●ros fundit ●ocos?  
Quae miscet ultilissima, & peridonea  
Praecepta vitae? Agnosco nunc Phaedrum Meum.  
I Phoedre, & osculetur omnis Te Puer:  
Omnisque Libros facundos terat Schola;  
Omnisque grates Slatero reddat Schola.    

XIIII. Oleum non deficiet 1 Reg. 4.  

THou hast God's bl●ssing. Power out still. The Oil,  
Till thou shalt cease to power, will never fail.  
So doth the Poet and the Preacher spend  
A little stock: and it grows without end.    

XV. Ad Mr. Collierum.  

MI Colliere, si facundiâ tuâ  
Sim praeditus, Candorem nunc laudem tuum,  
Nec non Amorem in hunc hominem, quem Tu libens  
Amplexus es, latasque aperuisti fores  
Optatae Amicitiae: quam perpetuò colam,  
Et propagabo ad na●os, si potero, meos.  
Tu vive l●●●ùm, pelle nec Musam foràs;  
Namque illa non molesta, si vacas, erit.    

XVI. Ad Mr. Palmerum.  

PAlmere, nomen si excidat Musae tuum,  
Si saepe non ego Te recolam animo meo;  
Tunc excidat mihi penitus nomen meum:  
Musam benigna Hallinga nec recolat suam.  
Si fortè sacris non studes concionibus,  
Tibi ho● Amoris Versus 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 habe.    

XVII. To Mrs. Eliz. Williams, for Dr. Tailor's Rule.  

YOur Book imprinted and bound by Franc Ash  
So finely well, hath given me, not a flash  
But fire from th' Altar. It will spoil the Sale  
Of Handmaid, Pra●lice, Crumbs, and Posies all.  
Taylor, by's Sampler, and this Rule to live,  
Is Master of Devotion unitive.  
Add to this Doctor Him that of Conscience wrat,  
The are fit all Christendom to regulate.  
Thus I my Debt to you do raise,  
While your fine gift I daily praise.    

XVIII. Upon Dr. Hammonds works. To Mr. John Beale.  

THe first came to our hands was Conscience,  
And of Resistance: whose great excellence  
So took, that you persuaded us in Wales,  
No man could write such things but only Hales:  
And you remember Stedman, on his name,  
Wrote the word Sclah, for an Anagram.  
The genuine Author's not long hid: Out comes  
At last his learned Works in two fair Tomes.  
And (which is much) they truly printed were,  
By th' care and cost of a Roy— Stationer.  
How shall I honour with deserved praise,  
The Defence of noble Falkland, or the Keys?  
His Tracts of Will-worship and Superstition,  
Scandal, Idolatry, and Admonition?  
I know you prise his Catechism alone,  
Above great calvin's Institution.  
And for his Sermons, I can't tell you whether  
I would read Chrysostom's or Hammonds rather.  
Take this from me, read it with favour, then  
Finish th' Elogium with your stronger Peneus    

XIX. Jo. Warreno suo LL. Doctori.  

VErsus agrestes nunc Tibi mitto meos,  
Absentiae ut veniam mihi libenter dares.  
Videbis ipsum me, cum longior dies;  
Atque interim non immemor vivam Tui.  
Ridere paulum, Uarrene, si vis, Te volo:  
N●●que esse ego non optimum Civem puto,  
Ridere multum tempore qui tali potest.    

XX. V. Cl. Herberto Crofto. D. H.  

TU qui peritissimus es doctarum Artium,  
Et Fautor, & (meministi?) Patronus meus,  
Dignare Carmina haec, quae sc●ibuntur Tibi  
Rudi Minerva, noscere ac ignosce●e.  
O quando verba audire ex ore melleo,  
Tuoque Crofte licebit aff●ta f●ui!   

Ne sperne, quaeso Amiculi munusculum:  
Is plura debet, paucula haec qui nunc dedit.  
Quod deesse novit, voto supplebit pio;  
Tuque & sorores suaves vivatis diu!    

XXI. To D. Rogers C. R.  

YOu do remember Sir, after that l●st  
And fatal Na●by Fie●d, you kept a Fast.  
And in your eloquent Sermon, you were wroth,  
The Soldier stole Leicester- Communion-Cloth.  
Therefore He fled. But pr●y, Sir, do not some  
Despoil whole Churches and yet overco●e?  
Scots, I contesse, that once did Hereford guard,  
Stole my Church-cup, were buried i'th' Churchyard.    

XXII. To Dr. Higs D. L. upon L. Verulam's Motto.  

YOu told me Sir, you did a long time look  
To please your Curiosity's, out of what Book,  
The Philosophic Lord, that so famed was,  
Had ta'en his Viderit Vtilitas,  
You turned many Volumes in each part;  
At length you found it. Where? In Ovid's Art.  
Let Profit see to itself, the Poet ●ryes;  
What e'er come, I'll pursue my enterprise.  
Great Verulam also cared not what he lost,  
That in's Exper meant he might not be crossed.  
At last grown poor He said; My Sovereign, give:  
I've lived to study; no● studied how to live.    

XXIII. To D. Critton, C. R.  

YOu quartered with me, but did seldom eat,  
U●lesse from Court they brought you your own meat.  
'Twas roasted well and cleanly at my hirth,  
The sauce yourself made with your learned mirth.  
To quarter you, what Scholar would not seek,  
Who so abound in Latin and in Greek?  
Think on your Landlord, pray Sir, by this hint,  
When you your M S. long much-expected Print.    

XXIIII. Upon the Death of B. Prideaux.  

NO time else, to vote Bishops down, but when  
We had i'th' Throne such eminent and good Me●;  
Laud (give leave to name him first for St. John:)  
Great Treasurer, the Great King's Confessor Juxon,  
How'l, Tours, Frew'n, Dupp', Hall, Prid'aux. 'Twas no doubt,  
Decreed, Episcopacy should go out  
Like the Holy Lamp. When it had burnt enough,  
It was extinct, but died not in a snuff.  
P●ideaux his Memory lives in the Oxford chair,  
More than at Woster. Where he begat so fair  
A Progeny of Divines, that (as they say)  
A hundred of his sons did meet that day,  
To th' Fathers he was gathered, There was One  
Preached a sad Sermon in harmonious tone,  
Another made the Oration, and all gave  
Him Reverence, as he passed to his Grave.  
Hospital Bredon doth his Corpse confine:  
His Learning over all the Land will shine.  
Exeter and all Oxford, when for Fame  
They will dispute, shall revive Prideaux Name.  
And though the Bishop's dead, The Doctor will  
Survive in his laborious Lectures still.    

XXV. Cancer occultus.  

THere is amongst humane Diseases one,  
Cancer occultus, the Physicians call it,  
Whose safest Cure is to be let alone,  
Lest a more grievous malady befall it.  
If we may judge by the actions of late,  
The same is sometime verified in the State.    

XXVI. Upon Dr. Kery and his wife.  

ONe love conjoind them in the nuptial Bed:  
One charity with alms poor people fed:  
One day (both very aged) cut their thread:  
One grave keeps them together buried.    

XXVII. Priscininus Vapulans Frisclim. Upon Vossius de Arte Gram.  

WHen Priscian's Head was broke by Quiddities,  
And by Scotisticall Haecceites,  
And the poor Pedant's spirits were almost spent,  
Erasmus Books relieved him with their scent.  
If he be hurt again in any pars,  
Now let him only smell to Vossy's Ars.    

XXVIII. Upon Mr. Shirly's Gram. Anglo. Lat.  

THe Child that would learn Latin very early,  
Let him, at first, acquaintance get with Shirley.  
He will allay the tediousness of School,  
In sweetest Verse composing every Rule.  
Thanks learned Shirley for th' ingenious pains.  
Thou shalt have place 'fore Farnaby and Danes.  
This is so good, I prithee let's have all,  
And hasten t'other part Poetical.  
We are in hope, that we shall quickly see't.  
Because it runs upon such nimble Feet.    

XX●X. An English Library. To Ri. Sackvill.  

SIr, you're my Scholar, and desire that I  
Should choose you out an English Library:  
Not that you do despise Latin or Greek,  
But Knowledge also in your own Tongue seek.  
Too many Books distract the mind: a dozen  
Are worth a Hundred, if they be well chosen.  
I commend These to you, not that I would  
Disparage others: They may be as good.  
First Hammonds Catechism, if to guide your life,  
You'll read Divinity, and not for strife.  
With whom (sending disputes to the School)  
Join Tailor's Sampler Jesus, and His Rule.  
That Ancient Worthy's footsteps you may tread,  
The General History of R●leigh read:  
In special, your own Countries actions make  
Your study, where Camden and Baker take.  
That you may raise such Observation,  
Peruse the Aphorisms of Dabington.  
Church-story, when she was pure, when vicious,  
You'll shortly see in my severe Sulpiti●s.  
The Mathematics a noble study be,  
Read Euchid Englished by Doctor Dee.  
Add, if you please to be led further on,  
Maest●in and my Pitiscu●, when theyare done.  
The Globes admired use, I'd have you know;  
And that the learned Gregory will show.  
For Moral precepts to your Senault soon  
The Author add, Of Wisdom writes, Charon.  
When weary you throw the Graver Prose away  
Refresh your spirits with witty Fletcher. play.  
Sometimes run over the books of modern news,  
And do not scorn the Verse of my plain Musc.  
But now, because among all cares, but One  
Is needful, I'll end with Religion.  
The Bible is God's book. Like Borromee,  
Read every day the Gospel on your knee.  
To give you light in places dubious,  
I do prepare some Notes of Grotius.  
That you may not be abused by Schismetics,  
Read hooker's ' Clesiastic Poetics.  
You'll know the Rights both of the Church and state,  
By studying Grotius, whom I tranflate.  
Tother rare piece, De veritate, can  
'Gainst Jew, Turk, Pagan prove Truth Christian  
And, though 'tis hard to allow it in his sense,  
Read Doctor Hackwill of God's providence.  
When you have read these Authors, for the ●est,  
I leave you to yourself, to choose what's best.  
This precept, pray take from me for a Close,  
Confer, and what you read you will ne'er lose.    

XXX. Cuidam.  

YOur Man asked, whether I did Preach next day,  
At Sudley Chamber. It was answered Ay.  
I came in time and Preached: You absent were:  
Did you ask, When? That you might not be there?    

XXXI. Upon a Brother of his.  

I Do confess my Fortune is but low,  
Yet I was willing freely to bestow  
A Gift upon a Brother. 'Twas a Boy;  
That wants no form, nor wit, a his friends say.  
I wrote so twice: but He no answer gave,  
Thinking perhaps I do not give, but crave.    

XXXII. To old Mr. Tho. Hacket.  

YOu did not only do well for your Son,  
But when the Glass of's too short life was run,  
You took his Orhhan-childrens to your care;  
And thus you truly the Grandfather are  
Now since your loved Sons my pupils be,  
Sure you have some Relation unto Me.  
Among your Relatives, if in your Will  
I should be one, who'll say you did do ill?  
You'll do what ne'er was done before; for I  
In all my life ne'er yet had Legacy.    

XXXIII. Chr. Merretto suo, Doct. Med  

INgratus essem, si non bene merito darem,  
Quod otium peperit nostrum; cùm Tu mihi  
Industrii ingenii soleas partus tui  
Donare promptus. Quaeso non aegre fer as,  
Tot nomina inter, & Tuum Nomen legi.  
Sic tua perita semper sit felix manus;  
Et Phaebus herbas porrigat laetus suas:  
 tu favere nunc voles Musis meis.    

XXXIIII. Upon Lividus and Candidus. To the Stationers.  

MY verses Livid in the worst sense takes:  
Candid of all a fair Construction makes.  
This is the cause, my verse to th' One is good,  
To th' other bad: just as I'm understood.  
Thus do all Books higher or lower stand,  
Placed by the Reader's, not the Writer's hand.  
And mine, as it finds favour in his eyes,  
You'll sell, my friends, at more or at less prize.   
THE END.    

THE COTSALL MUSE.  
IV. Part.  MARTIAL. 
Cum tua non edas, carpis mea Carmina Laeli;  
Carpere vel noli Nostra, vel ede Tua.  
Thou setst out none, but sayest my Verse is nought:  
Carp not, or tell me where Thine's to be bought.  
LONDON, Printed for F. A. at Worcester. 1651.   

The Dedication of the Fourth Part.  
To my Noble Friend. Mr. Tho. Bridges.  

MY Muse is now in four parts. Would they were writ,  
With full as much dexterity and wit,  
As Harry and Will Laws did once compose,  
Or you, my sweerest friend, can write in prose.   

Yet, Though my Muse be not urbane, but rough:  
As Cotsall folks, you know, are hard and tough:  
At stately Harvell, when you do her meet,  
You'll bring her in, to kiss The Lady's feet.    

FOURTH PART.  

I. To Mr. D. W.  

POet, as Fidler, when he once gins,  
Will never leave, until you cut his strings.    

II. To Sir W. C. of Glo.  

AFter a chilling blast took me elsewhere,  
My little family is replanted here,  
Whom CHANDOS noble bounty now maintains;  
And by Your Government, who hold the reigns  
So gent●y, yet with skill and care, I have  
For my innocuous Muse leisure and leave.  
She is ambitious now to send you health,  
And prepares for you, Th' Hebrew Commonwealth.  
Why should not my poor studies honour you?  
Where the Tree grows, sure there some fruit is due.    

V To Mr. Fra. powel of Ch. Ch.  

I Have not seen fair Oxford since that year,  
When you the Replicans Magistir were;  
And I w●th you and Digs, and Lecturers rest,  
Fared better than at Doctors Evan's feast.  
Though absent, yet I cannot choose but love:  
And now my Muse would your Affection prove.  
She once drank at your W●ll: but now she sings  
Her plainer Notes by the cold Cotswo●d spring's.  
With Courteous Auditors her song may pass,  
Though not such as Main's, Cartwright's, Waring was.    

VI That he makes verses after forty. To Amusius.  

FLato's great M●ster, being post threescore,  
The Music he neglected had before,  
‛ Gain practise. Pray S●r, wherefore should not I  
At forty hear my Muse's Melody.  
I know the worst of Censurers are They  
That drink or drab, ' stead of ingenious play.    

VIII. That he makes verses in sad times. To Bibax.  

ANd this is also laid amongst my Crimes,  
That I make Verses in these mournful times.  
Why, I can mourn in veise; and if I laugh;  
'Tis more excusable, then (with thee) to quaff.    

VIII. Quicquid conabar dicere, 〈…〉▪  

WOnder of nature! Ovid so sweet, so terse,  
Opens his l●ps, and there leaps out a Verse;  
When others cannot work out any: yet  
Their thicker skulls continually they beat.  
They lab●u●, but effect not: whose dull Art  
Cannot supply ingenious Nature's part.    

IX. To Dr. Fuller.  

NOr Holy War, nor yet thy Holy State,  
Our H●lu●es Appetite can satiate:  
But we expect (not vainly) after all,  
Thy History Ecclesiastical.  
Some say, 'tis now come out: sure it hath been  
Long promised, and 'tis high time 'twere seen.  
Yet 'twere ingrate to charge Thee with delay;  
Though slow, yet sure, in weighty Gold thou'lt pay.  
And this thy Glorious recompense shall be,  
Fame shall perpetuate thy large Memory.    

X. The saying of a King of France.  

THe King once in a Church a Tomb did see,  
Stately and rich, over an enemy,  
An English Knight. Sir, said ● Courtier will  
You have it razed; for, it is very ill  
An En'my should lie thus. The King said, No:  
Would all mine Enemies were buried so.    

XI. On the Death of Sir William Croft, To Col. Wroughton.  

●Roth, I have quite forgot the Castle now,  
Where Skydmore's Men met such an overthrow.  
The wisest are not (as we see of late)  
Nor valiantest, ever the most fortunate.  
But perish may the place, perish the Day,  
When Sober CROFT came to so mad a fray.  
Name me not subtle Birch or Morgan. There  
When Croft was slain they conquered Herefordshire.  
There was more wit and ●alo● in that One,  
And One more, Prisoner, than in All that run.  
You were preserved a Prisoner, to tell,  
How sadly Croft, yet honourably, fell.  
Let not the virtuous pair of Sisters hear,  
Till the Good Deane his Cordials prepare.    

XII. The defence. To Mr. Fr. Powel of Ch. Ch.  

A Careful friend told me my Verses do  
Look like Delinquents. Franc, I'll be judged by you.  
So long as my poor Muse makes no debate,  
Nor fancies ought thats dangerous to the State,  
Though I'm not bold, yet I no censure fear,  
Neither of potent Commoner, nor Peer;  
For naming excellent Croft, a Knight, or Dean,  
In this or that page of my Verses mean.  
One is, the other was, once of such Grace,  
That they may look each Reader in the face:  
Nor yet for valiant Mine, at Marly dead,  
Whose blood that Field ashamed of looks more red:  
Nor for the hardy Knight, Lingen, whom I  
Call noble. virtue's praised i'th' enemy.  
I'd call him so, did I again begin;  
And more; I'd put his Invict Lady in.  
(Somewhere I said, The Presbyter is new,  
But I don't say, his Disciplin's not true:)  
Learned Hammon, devout tailor's an eyesore▪  
O that we had twenty such Doctors more.  
Hammon for's Catechism and Tracts, pray make  
Your friend; and Tailor, for his Jesus sake.  
Prideaux the Doctor doth deserve to live,  
If pardon to the Bishop you'll not give.  
Victors of ignorance! I could live and die,  
In writing your deserved Elegy.  
Such worthy Persons, both in Camp and Schools,  
Though opposite, are praised by all but Fools.  
And this my only blame is (Truth to tell)  
I have not set forth their just p●aise● well.  
If this suffice not, than my Muse d'ye kick:  
I'm not so fond as Heliodore of Tric●.    

XIII. Dr. Kery's Counsel.  

WHen for some time (I thankful make relation)  
God gave me up to Satan's sly Temptation:  
He that saved many Souls, Kery divine,  
Was pleased to see me, hoping to save mine.  
My Thought! my Thought▪ I cried. Doctor, my Thought!  
I dare not tell you: it is hideous naught.  
The Doctor gravely: Mark my Counsel well:  
And thy bad Thought, with a good thought expel.  
Since that I find, Ill Thoughts best quenched are,  
If, at their Rise, I forthwith fall to Prayer.    

XIV. Upon Pompey and his Sons. Martialis.  

SOmpeios Juvenes Asia atque Euhopa; sed ipsum  
Terra tegit Libyes, si tamen ulla tegit.  
Quod mirum, toto si spargitur orbe? Jacere  
Uno non poterat tanta ruina loco.   

Europe and Asia have Pompey's Sons: but He  
In Af●ic's bur●ed, it he bu●ied be.  
In every part o't'h wo●ld dispe●st they die;  
So great a Ruin could not in one part lie.    

XV. To Mrs. Stratford.  

YOu sent me Maull, because my Brink was small:  
You send me now fine Cups, to hold my Ale.  
Your Courtesy runs o'●e. And, I hope, now  
My slender Cotsall Muse will stronger grow.  
A water-drinking Muse is flat: but Mine,  
Fresht with gooe Ale, will last, as those with wine.    

XVI. Guil. Turrio, cum non responderet.  

QVid? Despicis Tu Amiculi munusculum?  
Etiamsi Ego sim dignus Contumelia;  
Humanitatem non decet, Turri, tuam.  
Novissimam recipito nunc vocem, Vale:    

XVII. Upon the Death of Mr. William Where fellow of Merton on St. Matth. day Mat. 9 9  
JesUs DIXIt eI seqVere Me. & seCVtVs est M.DCXXXIV. To Mr. Sam. Where.  

IN's first degree, He graced Gloster-Hall;  
In's next, that College, that picks out of all,  
And adds them to the learned Magazine,  
By strict and ceremonious Discipline.  
O●ten had he, in Philosophic fights,  
With Cheynel, Nevil, wright past the black nights.  
Often had he, to th' Library confined,  
Greek Sbositers with Aristotle joined.  
Often, in Problems of the Mathematics,  
Had he conferred with Bainbridge and with Brix.  
Fair knowledge, in all sorts of History,  
He had from his learned father, Degory.  
Di●inity-doubts, when any did propose,  
He could with Reynolds, Doughty, Cressy close.  
Such mature Progresie had He made, that He  
(Some thought) would Burly or second Occam be.  
But as his study gave strength ●o his mind:  
So by Consumption his body pinned:  
While he read Chrysostom: on ●t. Matthew's day,  
His ●aviour called him: Scholar, come away.   

This I have writ for you, Sam, who survive;  
In whom Will, Charles, and John seem still alive.    

XVIII. To his Wife at last a Nurse.  

AFter six nursed by others, you'd ne'er rest  
Until the seventh Child drew out your own Breast.  
The seventh some secret virtue has, they say:  
This then, I hope will prove a fortunate Boy.  
And as in this (your Breast being often sore)  
Your labours were; so will your Joys be more.  
Children would all be more obedient sure,  
Knew they what pains their Mothers did endure.  
The Proverbs false: Once Nurse, seven year the worse:  
Best Nurse is Mother; and best Mother's Nurse.    

XIX. To the Reader.  

BLame not, that every obvious thing I take,  
And on it presently do verses make.  
To me alone a Contumacy is't?  
The manner of each Epigrammatist.  
Thus Harrington, thus Johnson; and 'fore all,  
The Poet to be gelded, Marshal.    

XX. The prick of a Thorn. To E. T.  

NEd, you did say, my Epigrams will not sell:  
Sure 'tis because (although writ pretty well)  
They are not salt with such unsavoury jests,  
As make our Country folk so laugh at feasts.  
Your Censures I confess went to the Quick,  
And (now at last I'm bold to put in) prick.  
Yet, I had rather my book should, on your stall,  
Lie dead, than once to obscene language fall.    

XXI. That poets are rich.  

Smooth Rand●l, I remember well, doth say  
I'th' Pistol, to a Good, but his Wo●st Play;  
Among the Art's Poetry hath got a place,  
Upon set purpose t'u●doe all the race.  
Are Poets poor, having such copious Themes?  
I say, They're rich: at least in Golden dreams.    

XXII. A parley 'twixt a Citizen and Soldier, at Hereford-Siege. Sept. 1. 1645.  

AS at Throckmortons' sconce I went to pray,  
(Prayer is the City's best Defence, we say,)  
A Soldier from the Trenches loud did call;  
Norman the Citizen answered from the wall.  
I. See my bright Sword, Lesty commanded, scour!  
None of you men has, to live, m●ny an hour.  
A●d then Skeins whet, our lusty wenches will,  
Your women all, and all your barns to kill.   

N. Tame locky, why ' o'th' Sudden art so cursed?  
Thou know'st, that hither to You have had the worst.  
If you can leap our walls, as o'er a stile,  
Why have you not assaulted all this while?  
Since you sat down 'tis now almost five weeks:  
 little done, but gathered suburb-leeks.   

I. I tell thee sirrah, long af●re this we ' had come,  
But by the way we met your leaden plum.  
N. Pure lead to send to you, we do not fail:  
But you to us return the lead with nail.  
And, 'gainst the law of nations (fie on it)  
Your lead is poisoned with your venomous bit:  
But, thanked be our God, it cannot hit.   

I. Upon our pikes we would you quickly toss,  
Were it not for that reprobate Mountrosse.  
He spoils our Country with fire, sword, and spear,  
While we, to little purpose, linger here.    

XXIII. Upon his son C. B.  

AS I a bed, 'fore day, did verses make,  
My Bed fellow, my little Boy, did wake.  
Father, you writ on every thing, said He,  
Let me entreat you, make one Verse for me.  
I presently replied (He can't say black:)  
Thou 'rt my white Boy, although thy eyes be clack.  
Thou bringst my Book; my Candle thou dost light;  
I love thee next unto thy Sister bright.  
If thou wilt learn thy Book, I'll leave to thee,  
Not one verse, Boy, but all my Poetry.    

XXIV. The Frogs asked a King. Phaedri.  

A Thenae cum storerent aequis legibus  
Procax libertas, etc. vide Veteratorem:   

At Athens gentle Laws had bred,  
Wanton liberty: They took head,  
The reigns being lose, till the most part  
Strengthened the Tyrant Pisistrat.  
They ha● no sooner undertaken,  
But presently complained o'th' yoke.  
Not tha● the King was cruel; but  
'Cause ●heir so't Necks were not used to't.  
Aesop beholding thi● their St●te,  
This Fable to them did relate.   

The Frogs, at freedom, leapt about the lake,  
And l●ud to jupiter for a King they cr●ke:  
A King to order them with powerful hand.  
jove smiled, and to the Raf●e● gave command  
To reign. It fell●w●th force ●nto the Pool,  
And wi●h the nois● affrighted the poor fools.  
Th● Rafter lay ● while all in the m●d,  
At length one of the b●lder Frogs up stood:  
And seeing the wo●den King, did the rest call.  
Their fright being n●w past, out they marched all,  
Insulting o'●e the Ra●te● with much scorn.  
jove give's a ●etter King, or wee'● forlorn.  
The Serpent, ●upiter i'th' next place sent;  
Who with sh●rp teeth them all to pieces rend.  
Some few escape by flight, but dare not speak:  
By Mercury they send ●o jove to wreak  
Their Cause. ●his Answer they received from God:  
You would not bear your Peace, now bear your Rod.  
And ye my Countrymen, be Conte●t, for fear  
You be in enforced some greater harm to bear.    

XXV. Upon D. Tailor's Funeral Sermon. To Mr. Savage.  

HAving received your Sermon, I fell to it,  
And stirred not out of the place one foot,  
Till I had with intentive eye survaid  
All the celestial Treasures there are laid.  
There is expressed, how short is every Breath;  
And what the Souls estate is after death;  
What the Felicity of the Saints each one,  
Completed at the last Reunion:  
And all in such a pure and pious way,  
As if the Book were written with heaven's ray.  
But th●n, the Narrative of the Lady's life,  
How discreet Mother, how observant Wife;  
This and the rest's so well described, that you'll  
Say right, to call it Tailors Second Rule.  
And though the Lady's Tomb, t'hir Lords content,  
Be stately built, This is her Monument.  
How happy was that Noble Lord in's love,  
To shelter such a Man at Golden-Grove.    

XXVI. To my Sister Barksdale.  

NO end of Tears? but, weep yourself to Night,  
And lose your Eyes, because 've lost the sight.  
Of your beloved son? Can you think now,  
By watering a dead plant, to make it grow?  
At the last d●y, the dead shall have a spring,  
And live again: but before, no such thing  
Is possible. The Corruptible Body must  
Take up his Habitation in the dust.  
The Soul which of the parts is far the best,  
Is gone to God to everlasting rest.  
Clear up, I pray, those fairest Eyes, and see  
How mercifully God hath dealt wi'thee'ee.  
One child H●ath taken, and hath left the other  
To comfort you in the place of her Brother.  
But, if we will pour out our Tears, let's learn  
Their Current in the Proper Course to turn:  
And then let Tears flow from us night & day,  
Till we have wept, and washed our sins away:  
Nor can our Crosles suffered, nor our Fears,  
But our Sins may be cured by our Tears.    

XXVII. To the same.  

YOu grieve, and say, There was scarce ever any  
Hath buried her sweet Children young so many.  
That you to God so soon your Children sent,  
This is your Privilege, not Punishment.  
Mothers, who thus their Infants back have given,  
Bore them, not so much for themselves, as Heaven.  
Happy, thrice happy are those little O●es  
Who are advanced per saltum, to their Thrones.    

XXVIII Upon the Book of justification, written by I. G. sent me by my Lady CHANDOS.  

Welcome the Book, expected so long time,  
Now sent me from the hand of one o'th' prime  
Ladies of England. Welcome, for her sake,  
Who by this favour hath been pleased to make  
Me more obliged. Welcome, for its own worth:  
For here I find perspicuously set forth,  
The work, which only by Free Grace is done,  
That sweetest Act, justification.  
I have but tasted yet, but this short Taste  
Is far beyond some whole Books. (Th' Author's last  
Writings I will not speak of) I don't fear  
To praise his Learning and his Temper here.  
And were the rest not worthy of a look,  
I will rejoice to dwell on this fair Book.    

XXIX. Of Love. Casimiri Sarb.  

QUid nocti lumen▪ luci quid quae●imus umbram?  
No●te dies nob●s est Amor; umbrad●e.   

Why seek we shade so day; for darkness light?  
Love is our shade i'th' Day; our day, i'th' Night.    

XXX. A garland of Roses over a sweet Child. ●●usdem.  

IPsa Corona Rosa est Puero? Puer anne C●onae  
Ipsa Rosa est? pue● est ipsa Corona Rosae.   

Does the Rose crown the Child? or, the Child is  
The Rose i'th' Crown? ●● Crowns the Rose? So ' 'tis.    

XXXI. An Angel painted by a fair Child. Ejusdem.  

ANgele, Gonza●a es, sipictas exuis alas:  
Si Gonz●ga alas endues, Angelus es.   

The Angel the Chi●d is, let th'Wings alone;  
The Child the Angel is, put the Wings on.    

XXXII. Non NOBIS DOMINE, etc. In the Great Chamber at Sudeley. To my Lo. C.  

CHANDOS, wh'adorned the Princely Chamber, where  
So many Friends and Tenants welcomed were,  
Caused the Artificer on the wall to write  
This Sentence, & exposed to all men's sight.  
So when our works are brought to end, must we  
All sing aloud, Non nobis, Domine.  
And I, my Lord, that for my Muse I may  
Favour obtain, must Kyrie Elcison say.  
'twas her Ambition her Notes to sing  
To the Great-Grandson of the Cotswold-King.    

XXXIII. Of Faith.  

THe Divine Mysteries, as the Scripture saith,  
Above our Reason, objects are of Faith.  
We taste the sweet, without the Theory:  
So Children suck the milk they do not see    

XXXV. In Stapyltonum Equi●m Anglum Interpretem Stradae Romani.  

ANglos Vexavit quondam male Stapyltonus:  
Et meritò nata est Anglia (Roma) Tibi.  
Anglos ornavit nunc ●am bene Stapyltonus:  
Et merito grata est (Anglia) Roma Tibi.    

XXXVI. To my brother D. Charlton.  

Tother hard work have Elzi●●rs the Lei  
Den Printers finished, De ●ith●ali:  
Or have they failed? Then, let the books disease,  
Frequent with writers, on the Printers cease.  
What to the pious Father Death did give,  
Will make the Son, amongst b●st Authors, live.    

XXXVII. Eidem Domino Gualt. Charltono. M. R.  

CHarltonus, is qui Helmontium pridem dedit  
Nuperque nobis reddidu Helmo●tium;  
Hunc pul●●ris miranda Sympathet●●i,  
Hunc eruditis exprimentem pag●●s  
Medentium, de Fluxibus, Lapsus gra●es:  
jam nunc Suum, de Lapide secreto, librum  
Don●ss● luce publicum gaudet Borum.  
O Autor annumerande Cha●ltonis ●u●s!  
O abditâ praclarcor Gemmâ ●●ber!  
Et Vivat Autor, et liber V●●at diu▪    

XXXVIII. To Mr. Edmund Bower.  

SO many Friends named, yet not till this hour  
One verse bestowed upon my honoured Boner?  
Sir, I am glad, you again feed the Ox,  
And ventured not upon the Irish rocks:  
No Ground for y●u (though the beyond-sea sun  
Shine clear) can be so fit as Alverton.  
Long live there! you're a Man the Scriptures bless,  
A faithful Truste● for the Fatherless.    

XXXVIII. To the worthy Persons mentioned in these papers.  

AN ancient writer flattered himself, that He  
Should give his Friends an Immortality,  
Whom in his Books he mentioned. Be it far  
From me, to glory thus. Your Good Names are  
Immortal of themselves. If my Muse live,  
Your Names her life and estimation give.    

XXXIX. Mro. Ric. Hillo T. B.  

SEntentias qui veterum bene memor tenes:  
●●qus Cor, a●cem, nulla nunc possunt mala  
Penetrare ●●●ctas sed manes, recti tenax:  
Si quando samis Hilaritatis poculum,  
Admitte, quaeso, Musas in Coetum, ut soles:  
Has sobrtas, in ●●am, et siccas Musas meas.  
Sic Hilariores floreant Musae Tuae.    

XL. To Mr. Edmund Waller.  

A Wit and Poet'● no reproach. To you  
Both Titles, if no an● One, are due.  
Your N●me shall be enroled Sir, among  
Best English Poets, who writ smooth and strong.  
I know a man, had rather, with your wit,  
Be th' happy Author of a Po●m (yet  
He studied ●ong by the fair stream of Ouse)  
Than be some potent Prince, or One o'th' House.    

XLI. A physic Note.  

A Son of Galen's in a Physic book  
Bids the physician for a medicine look  
In the next hedge to's patunt. Ready ease  
Nature provides for every climbs disease.  
If s●: our Hawling-Men, when sick, may see  
In ●nula campane the●r Remedy.  
Here's enough of it: which doth uselessly;  
For They're s●arce sick till by mere Age they die.    

XLII. To Mr I. C. physician.  

When once I walked with you thorough Gloster street,  
Some of the poorer sort we chanced to meet.  
My life you saved, Good Master Comberline,  
God bless you, said another, You saved mine.  
If we did know all your poor patients names,  
How should we magnity your Goodness, James?  
The Rich from you have dear Health cheaply bought:  
The Poor have skill and Medicine too for nought.    

XLIII. To D. Merret.  

MY Garden, Sir, is yet or'e-spred with weeds:  
Please you to send me some of your rare seeds,  
I shall prepare the Ground. But send in time,  
And of such Plan●s, as love a colder clime.  
That I may know the plant, not seed alone,  
P●●y send me Spigels Introduction.  
'twil be Entertainment for a Friend, to tell  
In what Disease my Herbs will make him well:  
And walking by the banks to describe what  
They are: One's good for this: Tother for that.  
At last, I'll add, when the best Herbs I show,  
All these I to my Merrets bount▪ own:  
Merret, who runs the names and virtues o'er  
Of these plants, yes, a●d of a thousand more:  
And can declare, which, what disease will cure,  
At the first sight, even by the Signature.    

XLIV. To M Alex. Weld.  

When you were in our Country last Rent-day,  
You pleased to say, Sometime you'd take your way  
By my House. Pray Sir, when you come down next,  
Perform, and make your promise true as Text.  
Though my Avaro's pay not well their Deuce,  
You shall be feasted by my bounteous Muse:  
And what you find deficient among  
The frugal Dishes, shee'● supply with song:  
That you may say, when you return, at ware  
Though not your palate, I did feast your Eare.    

XLV. To Mr F. B.  

FU●co, I know, albeit you're wise and Grave,  
You so much of your old Humanity have,  
To let me tell you of the time, when You  
And w●ll, and Robin, and I, and another's Crew  
O● fellows bony fire-night● past i'th' Hall,  
They from our now-strong-garrisoned City call.  
Oft have we discoursed o'er ● Zegedine  
Of D●●ble, and now and then a pot of wine.  
Oft have we made a ●unto o'er the Can,  
Offending nor the State, nor Priscian.  
For in our Mitth, we ever careful were  
To please th' Historical Prelector Where.  
Now we ' r dispersed, and perhaps grown more wise,  
Yet our old mer●y Meetings recognize.  
Our present Gravity will not go less  
Though we our youthly vanity confess,  
The Enemy can find nought, if he will  
Search for't, but what he may preach at Corn hill.    

XLVI. Upon Lent.  

OUr Country folk are very retinent  
Of some old Customs, yet will not keep Lent.  
Upon Shrove-Tuesday they do feast and play:  
But on Ash-wednesday they'll not fast and pray.  
So prone we are our wanton flesh to please:  
But care not much to cure the Souls disease.    

XLVII. To Mr W. T.  

" NOli timere; familiam pascet tuam:  
" Nolo timere; familiam pascet meam.  
Wil you did say, There is no hurt i'th' rest:  
But of my vers●s, these two are the best.  
If Grotius, whose verses finely go,  
Were ' live again to write, he would write so.  
O say not G●otius would write like me:  
'Tis too much praise, to write two lines as HERALD    

XLVIII. To the same. A Sermon Note.  

WIll. I remember (eight years now are passed)  
Preaching at Hereford great Church, at last  
You did infer, by way of Application,  
Out of judicious Hooker, this Citation.  
" The time will come, a word with Meekness fit,  
" Shall be preferred to a volume of sharp wit.  
For th' use of all the Brethren of our Coat,  
I have revived here this good old Note.    

XLIX. To the Critics.  

I Am not as the Lord Mountaigny, He  
In whose Essays so large Impressions be  
Of his peculiar, disposition:  
Yet have I given my poor Muse a Commission,  
To tell some private ●ales; and made no doubt,  
To put my own Pedantic humours out.  
Kind Readers think not mine the dullest Pen  
That writes, if they meet one good Verse in ten.  
Ye sons of Priscian, pray, with favour read:  
Lest my bold Scholars break your Father's Head.    

L. An excuse.  

OFten I ride o'er England's coldest Hill,  
And meet with many a blast enough to chill  
A stronger Muse: nevertheless, my dame  
Keeps company, and remains still the same.  
She shorts my way, and, when no other's lent,  
Her own self is sufficient Argument.  
Now she'd excuse some Verses hard paced are,  
Because made on my poor old trotting Mare.    

LI. Herbert and Crashaw.  

WHen into Herbert's Temple I ascend  
By Crashaws' Steps, I do resolve to mend  
My lighter Verse, and my low ●ot●s to raise,  
And in high Accent sing my M●k●rs pra●se.  
Mean while these sacred Poems in my Sight  
I place, and read, that I may learn to write.    

LII. Come from Lebanon my Spouse. Cant. M. ●asim. Sarbie.  

ET fugis, et fugiens 〈◊〉, Quid Sponsa moraris?  
Non fugis, ut 〈◊〉; ut ●apiare, 〈◊〉.   

Thou fliest, and flying call'st: Away, my Spouse!  
Thou fliest not to avoid her, but to ●ouse.    

LIII. St Magdalen weeping under the Cross.  

AH sitio, clamas. A●sunt 〈◊〉 ●upibus undae.  
Sola sluunt ocul●s ●l●mina▪ sola b●●e.   

Thou christ, I thirst. But Those are Rocks, not men;  
These Eyes yield Crystal waters. Lord, drink them.    

LV. Upon Chrysostom.  

You that vouchsafe to read these Verses, know,  
I may a Chrysostom to y●u● favour owe.  
Great Chrysostom Constantin' politan,  
Of th' G●eec Edition Savilian;  
The stationer, for my De Imperio  
Has promised it as my Reward. But so,  
The sumtuous Impression do not lie  
Upon his hands; pray, Gentle Readers, Buy.  
'tis Grotius. Enough. Discourses wise  
Of State and Church take at two shillings price;  
What though he ask you for it half a Crown▪  
You spend more at one Sitting in the Town.  
Is't not a thrifty bargain for the Truth?  
Expect a better of the Golden-Mouth.  
Give me my Chrysostom, I will dispense,  
To all our Countrymen his Eloquence.  
And first, the sweet-short Sermons you shall hear,  
Preached, where They first the Christian Name did bear.    

LV. To the Printer.  

DId I effuse a little more of brine,  
On my Epigrams, in such and such a line;  
Or could I write, as well as you can Print,  
Unless there be a fatal disaster in't,  
(Although my Thuan were not of quick sale)  
The Muse will roundly off like Cotswald Ale.  
Pray, tell the Bookseller, if he will see't,  
Th' Epigram, though not very salt, is sweet.  
No obscene jests, no jeers fall from my Pen:  
But it delights in praise of Books and Men.    

LVI. To the Book-binder.  

HAs my Muse made a fault? Friend, I entreat,  
Before you bind her up, you would her beat.  
Though she's not lose and wanton, I can tell,  
Unless you beat her, you'll ne'er bind her well.    

LVII. To F. A. Stationer.  

FRanc, you admire, what should the meaning be,  
That my unknown Muse printed is for Thee.  
Here in the end, Thou shalt the Reason find:  
'Tis printed (take't not ill) for thee to bind.  
None can compare to you, so finely well  
You bind, that your books for the outside sell:  
If, by your close Art, you will set it forth,  
My Cotsall Muse will sell, though Nothing worth▪  
And though the writer's wit give no great flash,  
Readers will think, 'tis Good, cause bound by Ash.    

LVIII. To the Readers.  
Conclusion.  

MY verse, because they are not hard and rare,  
As some of Dav'nants, Don's and Cleveland's are,  
You censure. Pray Sir, must all men writ so?  
Or can we all unto fair Corinth go?  
But, Truth is, I'd not write so, if I could:  
I writ, just as I speak, to be understood.  
Whose sense will not without much study come,  
Let him, for me, be altogether dumb.  
No Persius be my Reader; but such may,  
As He, who once threw Persius away.   
Oh, jam satis est, oh Libelle.    

Errata.  
PAge. 2. l. 7 deal Tibi 31. 7 unlicens'd 32. 22, heavy grief 34. 15 Vis, urbem captam 39▪ 4. suavi. 45 two bald. p. 46. v. 15. eximium. 47. 4. Audis. 62. 6. affatu. 65 Priscian. Frischlin. 68 7. disputers. ult. politics. 76. 21 or Knight. 80. 13 Contumely.