●● Aston Cockain.    

A CHAIN OF GOLDEN POEMS Embellished with WIT, MIRTH, and ELOQUENCE. Together with two most excellent COMEDIES, (viz.) The OBSTINATE LADY, AND TRAPPOLIN Supposed a PRINCE: Written by Sr Aston Cokayn.  
LONDON, Printed by W. G. and are to be sold by Isaac Pridmore, at the Golden-Falcon near the New-Exchange. 1   

THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY TO THE READER.  
THese poor trifles (courteous Reader) had not now become so troublesome to the World, if it had been in my power to have prevented them: for at my going once out of London, I left them with a friend of mine, who dying, they were dispersed into divers hands. Mr. William Godbid got my Obstinate Lady, and though he found it with the last leaf torn out, wherein my conclusion to the play with the Epilogue were; he procured some acquaintance of his to supply the defect at the end, and so Printed it. And though that Comedy, be very much of it writ in number, he put it forth as if the most part of it were prose. Here you have that defect much amended, and my own conclusion and Epilogue added. I was fearful my Trappolin, and other Poems should have run the like misfortune; and therefore made a diligent enquiry after them, and when I had found them out could not get them delivered without parting with some money, and promising my honest friend Mr. W. Godbid, (after I had afforded them some small correction) I would bestow them on him, (with my consent) for the Press: For indeed without his (assistance) I should not have recovered them out of a Gentleman's hands whom I will forbear to name. I hope there is nothing in the whole so amorous as to arrive at impiety, yet nevertheless could I have imagined them worthy the trouble of transcription, you will find many things here that had been omitted. After this general Apology I must also make my excuse for some particular pieces. I have been demanded by some Persons of Quality and judgement, why in my copy of Verses before Mr. Fletcher's volume of Plays, I chiefly reflect upon the Mad Lover, my noble friend and kinsman Mr. Charles Cotton, sent me that single Play in a Manuscript, which I had divers years in my hands: therefore when I found the Players were prohibited to act, I writ those poor Verses with an intention to have had the Mad Lover printed single, and them to have waited on it; (which when the large Volume came forth) my Cousin Cotton commanded from me, and gave the Printers. Next, I must acknowledge I have been merry with Mr. James Strong and his pretty Pamphlet. But seeing many thus make as bold with him, I presumed I might take the same liberty. I must only request the chastwomen of Lin, to take no offence at these Verses, I intended them none; if there be any of dissolute life in that town, let those be accounted of as his Joanes and no other: I hope James Strong is of Coriats' gentle disposition, and will endure jesting with, otherwise (at his leisure) he hath my leave to be as pleasant with me. Some few things that I translated out of Latin and Italian, I have not inserted, as accounting them too wanton to breathe in this chaster clime: and in truth if any body (either through curiosity, or by any other accident) should english any such pieces, it will be esteemed a discretion in them to forbear publishing them.  
Lastly, I have made some progress into a Play, to be called the Tragedy of Ovid, which (if my Obstinate Lady, and Trappolin take) I may be encouraged to perfect, and present to you hereafter, with some other things that are not yet put into method, fit for the Press, if you be not cloyed with these small Poems already, and hate a farther surfeit upon such toys: If this book hath the fortune to attain to a second impression, you may then hear farther from me: and in the mean, while this is enough from  
Your servant ASTON COKAIN   

TO HIS NOBLE FRIEND Sir ASTON COKAIN on his Poetical composures.  

SIr, though I cannot on such praises hit,  
As well may suit the wardrobe of your wit,  
Rich and replete; yet give me leave to aim,  
And light my I'aper at your Delphic flame.  
But how should such a dazzled sense as mine,  
(Lost in highways of Excellence divine)  
See to pass judgements on your lines aright,  
That seem all g●●ded with Phoebaean light  
From your rich brain effused, that to the sky  
Rightly conforms in clear sublimity?  
I almost should have thought your nimbler soul  
Had fire from Heaven, like fly Prometheus, stole;  
But that whereas accursed plagues he brought,  
Wherewith Pandora's box was sadly fraught,  
You with choice things have blest us, such as be  
Treasures of wit, art, language, history.  
How strangely winds your fancy here and there!  
Like to your Anchor, built with streams more clear  
That glide along as if they longed to see  
Themselves engulfed in vast eternity.  
Surely you drew from noble birds of Po  
Those numerous sweetnesses that ravished so;  
And from rich Naples and renowned Rome  
Brought forth fine courtship and choice learning home.  
Your Muse (impregnate with no common worth)  
Thus travailed for a fame, and brought it forth:  
Whose issue he that envies, let him hear  
(Like Phrygian Midas) with a lengthn ' deer  
Nothing but scorns shot at him sundry ways,  
Yet take those pellets for a charge of praise.  
Kick at such currish slaves, nor think them fit  
To pick up at your chair the crumbs of wit;  
But think, whilst other Muses seem to dance  
After your measures, they your praise advance.  
Needs must those wits or harsh or heavy be,  
That move not at your strokes of harmony.   
Tho. Bancroft.   

Faults escaped in ●●e printing, are thus to be corrected.  
PAge 3. line 18. read revoke, p. 4. l. 23. r. skilled, p. 9 l. 22. r. Our Crow feigned King was lain. p. 10. l. 4. r. built o'er Thames' sid, p. 12. l. 27. r. Buxtons, p. 14. l. 2. r. both fi●e▪ p. 16. l. 2. r. you, p. 29. l. 25. r. then, p. 32. l. 30. r. Mantin, p. 34. l. 19 r. mend, p. 37. l. 14. r. Laughere● p. 41. l. 28. r. end p. 42. l. 3. r. if, p. 76. l. 2. r. that, p. 77. l. 1. r. Naides, and the word (flowing) to be left out, p. 91. l. 21. r. their p. 95. l. 20. r. Terni and Narni, p. 96. l. 24. r. Torre Griego, p. 97. l. 17. r. Corbiel, p. 102. l. 1. r. blest, p. 104. l. 26. r. Dad, p. 106. l. 14. r. whore, p. 107. l. 7. r. Caves, p. 119. l. 2. r. Knyveton, p. 129. l. 3. r. Elveston, p. 142. l. 6. r. eunt. p. 165. l. 14. r. Atrides, p. 168. l. 6. r. at, p. 192. l. 10. (is) to be left out, p. 197. l. 26. the single o to be left out, p. 205. l. 26. r. Vergivian, p. 208. l. 19 read Buxtons.  
From page 208, to page 257, the figure of one hundred is left out, which (supposing Printed) the Erratas following are thus to be amended.  
Page 215, line 12, read Griego, p. 216. l. 6. r. the, p. 218. l. 22. r. name, p. 222. l. 11. r. site, p. 223. l. 3. r. Master, p. 226. l. 25. r. hallowd, 230. l. 19 r. here, p. 235. l. 20. r. when, p. 240. l. 23. r. dear, p. 246. l. 7. r. use p. 253. l. 15. r. the Em the, p. 254. l. 6. r. if 'tis, p. 259. l. 7▪ r. Mistresses, p. 260. l. 19 r. one, p. 265. l. 7. r. any 266. l. 24. r. game, p. 280. l. 24. r. Buxtons, p. 290. l. 9 r. servingman, p. 299. l. 25. r. maidenly, p. 303. l. 20. r. extend. p. 311. l. 27. r. neat, p. 316. l. 26. r. Crema p. 320. l. 11. r. Laurana, p. 318. l. 6. r. I'm, p. 335. l. 21. r. her, p. 347▪ l. 10. r. none of them, p. 349. l. 1. r. thy, p. 352. l. 4. r. Lovers, p. 360. l. 2. r. disclose, p. 360. l. 16. r. of it, p. 365. l. 18. r. licence, p. 397. l. 29. r. Master, p. 415. l. 8. r. paint, p. 419. l. 25. r. Mattemoros, and where ever it is printed otherwise, p. 423. l. 21. r. at fifty, p. 226. l. 5. r. he, p. 428. l. 18. r. meant.   

SMALL POEMS OF DIVERS SORTS.  

A Remedy for Love.  

THat which the Sulmo Poet sung, again  
I do declare, but in a chasier strain.  
Of all the sisters that do sport upon  
The bifront hill, and Photion Helicon,  
Thou unto whom this task doth most belong,  
Conduct my pen, & guide my faltering tongue:  
Give me a cup of the Castalian spring,  
That Remedy I may more sweetly sing:  
And sacred Phoebus, patron of the Nine,  
And God of Physic, thy assistance join.  
Henceforth no poor Inamorato shall  
Be accessary to his Funeral.  
Wherefore should mighty Turnus fall beneath  
The hand of Anchisiades in death?  
'Tis shame that Dido should despair and die,  
Because the Trojan will from Carthage fly.  
Wherefore should Phillis for Demophoons stay  
With her own Girdle take her life away?  
And why in Phoebus' Temple should decease  
For his fair Dardan Lass Aeasides?  
If any of these had but viewed our lines  
Surely they would have been of other minds.  
If Clytaemnestra had this Poem read,  
She had not done great Agamemnon dead,  
For vile Aegistus sake; nor had his son  
By hers, revenged the King's destruction.  
If Paris Alexander had but seen  
This work, he had not stole the Spartan Queen:  
And Ilion's gorgeous Towers yet had stood,  
And famed Scamander never drunk the blood  
Of those courageous Princes that there died,  
To rescue and keep back Atrides bride.  
If me (brave Achelous) thou hadst known,  
Alcides thee had never overthrown.  
If Alcumena's glorious son had viewed  
This Poesy, the fatal shirt imbrued  
With poison, and the Centaur's blood, had lain  
Useless, and he on Oeta not been slain.  
I wish that Tereus had read us over,  
For than he had not been a bloody lover,  
Nor had transfigured been. All these I could  
Have made more stayed than Matrons grave and old.  
But such like ends hereafter none shall know:  
For we will slack the Paphian Archers bow.  
Wherefore (untoward Boy) art thou severe  
To those that gladly would thy yoke hold dear,  
If thou wouldst grant them such felicity,  
That whom they do affect they might enjoy:  
And that their hearts should never entertain  
Such darts as lawless passions would constrain?  
I will not be too difficult to follow  
My Rules, though they be true they shall be shallow:  
All you therefore that love in vain, or where  
You should not, give unto my precepts ear.  
And gentle Ladies, you whose tender hearts  
Have felt the force of conquering Cupid's darts;  
Suffering in vain the burden of his yoke,  
Attend, and your affections I'll provoke:  
For almost all my documents will prove  
(If you apply them) Remedies of Love;  
For what I write to men, you also may  
Make use of, your own passions to allay:  
Perform but my Injunctions, and you shall  
From all your fond desires be loosed all:  
Know happy liberty again, and throw  
Contempt on them that no regard would show.  
Here many Remedies we write, that all  
Of Liberty may us Physician call:  
One mind doth not possess all men, therefore  
Our art of Antidotes doth publish store.  
Perhaps at first these Remedies may seem  
Too difficult for you to follow them:  
A new backed horse grieves greatly at the bit,  
But quickly after will away with it:  
Likewise the Oxen do at first conceive  
The yoke intolerably full of grief.  
I do not bid you, if you can obtain,  
A meritorious mistress to refrain:  
Our purpose is to quench base flames, and such  
As vainly burn; but honest not to touch.  
If you have been where you have seen a Lass  
Whose marvelous beauty your subjection was,  
Or whose admired qualities prevailed  
So far, that they obtained when they assailed:  
Think when you are retired, if you can win  
Her to your suit, which if you can, therein,  
If it be good, persist, if not, proceed  
To put in practice what you here shall read.  
Be willing to perform what I do sing,  
And thee from Cnidos there is hope to bring.  
Not Podalirius, nor Machaon can  
Unbridle the affections of a man;  
Nor shield Apollo's son: none but himself  
Can unto him again restore his health.  
What should be done I can but only show,  
Which is you slight, yourself is your own foe.  
Now leave to love▪ and do not (fondling) say  
To morrow you'll begin, and not to day.  
The longer you affect the more you burn,  
And therefore finding her too coy, return.  
Doth not time make the little twig a tall  
Advanced tree, shading the humble vale?  
Will not a Current which one here may stride  
Below, for such a passage be too wide?  
And the small seeds which in the fields are sown,  
Unto high corn are they not quickly grown?  
Strongly eat idleness; take that away,  
And Cupid's bow breaks, and his lamps decay.  
A standing water daily putrifies;  
But that is fresh which through a channel hies.  
As much as fishes do in streams delight;  
As much as Bats affect the silent night:  
So much contented Venus is with ease,  
For that the Fountain is of this disease.  
His Soldiers, the Wag, the Idle makes,  
And all the busy as his foemen hates.  
By labour thou mayst cure thee of this trouble,  
Which unto thee will bring a profit double:  
And though a sedentary life some hold  
To be an easy way, to grow in old  
It is a busy course, as they shall find,  
That study and employ their brains and mind:  
And thousand nights and days they must bestow  
In learning, that deep Scholars mean to grow▪  
Yet 'tis a pleasing toil; knowledge being known,  
Full recompense for th' Acquisition.  
Keep one of our two Universities,  
And closely there thy knowledge make to rise  
By daily studies; Cambridge our dear Mother,  
Fair Albion's eldest birth; or else the other,  
Her sister Oxford; Places far renowned  
For Education, and nobly crowned  
By sweet-tongued Poets with eternal bays,  
Fully deserved by their melodious lays.  
Or if thou pleasest, unto London go.  
(Corruptedly from Lud●-town called so)  
The seat of English Monarches, and the grave  
Of more than any, since Norman valour gave  
It unto William (Harold being slain)  
And the Realm from the Saxons took again.  
There into one of her four Inns withdraw  
Thyself, and seriously go study Law.  
Or be a Soldier, and maintain his right,  
Whose cause is just, so thou may'st justlier fight;  
Though wise Ulysses had a beauteous wife,  
And chaste, and young, he led a soldier's life:  
Had she a proud disdainful mistress been,  
Frowned on his services and scorned him;  
You may conceive he then would sooner far  
Have left, and slighted her, and gone to th' war.  
Or lead a Country life, where far from noise,  
Pride of the Court, and City-vanities,  
Thou may'st enjoy thyself sweet days and nights,  
And spend thy time in harmlesser delights.  
There thou mayst hunt, or hawk, plant, graft, & find  
Thousand diversions for thy troubled mind.  
The noblest Romans many times would leave  
Their spendent City, and in th' Country live:  
Augustus' self (when it was at the height)  
Forsook it, and in Caprae did delight.  
If that the Lyric Horace had lived at home  
In his own Countryhouse, and kept from Rome,  
Perhaps he from's fond passions had been free,  
As the chaste Virgin Anaxarete.  
If there thou spendest all the day in roil,  
In wont fire at night thou wilt not broil:  
For then sweet sleep you only will request,  
That after weariness you may have rest.  
Travelling is a proved Antidote,  
Whereby a double profit may be got.  
I do not give thee counsel to subdue  
Thy passions by sailing unto Peru:  
Neither advise I thee to pass the seas,  
To take a view of the Pyramids:  
Nor into Italy where Romans old  
The Sceptre of the Universe did hold:  
Nor into Spain, where John of Gaunt, the Duke  
Of Lancaster such battles undertook:  
Nor into France, which our fifth Henry won,  
And when he died left to his infant-son,  
Who what his great victorious sire did gain,  
Piece-meal to Charles the seventh did lose again.  
The journey I enjoin will not enforce  
Thee to take shipping, but to ride an horse:  
For will not England be sufficient  
To cure thy wound, and to produce content?  
Travel it through; but take along with thee  
A friend or two to bear thee company.  
I do not bid thee to go up and down,  
Through every Village, and through every Town:  
Only the best and notedst places view;  
Whereof unto thee I will name a few.  
To Troynovant, now called London, ride,  
By new fair buildings daily beautified,  
And great resort of people; There thou mayst  
See how the Thames under a Bridge doth haste  
Of nineteen Arches; Th●t so fair an other,  
And strangely built, is scarce all Europe over.  
There thou mayst see the famous Monuments  
Of our Heroes, framed with large expense:  
There thou upon the Sepulchre mayst look  
Of Chaucer, our true Ennius, whose old book  
Hath taught our Nation so to Poetize,  
That English rhythms now any equalise;  
That we no more need envy at the strain  
Of Tiber, Tagus, or our neighbour Seine.  
There Spencer's Tomb thou likewise mayst behold▪  
Which he deserved, were it made of gold:  
If, honoured Colin, thou hadst lived so long,  
As to have finished thy Fairy Song,  
Not only mine, but all tongues would confess,  
Thou hadst exceeded old Maeonides.  
Thence unto Canterbury take thy way,  
Famous for being our chief Arch-Bishops sea:  
Where thou mayst see the ruins of the Tomb  
Of that great Prelate, who whilom in Rome  
Complained of his Sovereign, and did stand  
Boldly himself alone 'gainst all the Land.  
Dover is worthy of thine eyes, from whence  
Thou mayst see Calais lost no long time since  
By Philip, son to Charles' the fifth, and her  
That did again the Roman faith prefer.  
Afterwards into Surry go, where you  
Five of our Monarch's Palaces may view;  
And Okam that renowned Village, were  
William was born, the deep Philosopher,  
Sur-named from his birthplace, whose divine  
Wit is observed by Nations transmarine.  
To Hantshire, Winchester doth thee entreat,  
A journey to vouchsafe the ancient seat  
Of the West Saxon Kings, where thou may'st turn  
Thine eyes upon Canutus' royal urn.  
From thence (if thou art of a noble race)  
To Totnes ride, Brutus his Landing-place;  
A gallant branch of Anchisiades  
Flying from Italy through unknown seas.  
In Somerset-shire travel to the Bath,  
A place frequented much because it hath  
Waters for many a sickness good; yet I  
Believe none there can cure love's malady.  
And upon Glassenbury Abbey deign  
To look, where our Crow-famed King was slain,  
And Joseph; and upon the Hawthorn-tree,  
On Christmas-day that blossoms annually.  
Wilt-shires Cathedral Church is of such price,  
That worthily it doth deserve thine eyes:  
Wherein as many windows do appear,  
As there be days in the divided year:  
Wherein the Marble pillars parallel  
The hours that in four quarters one may tell.  
And lastly where as many gates vouchsafe  
Entrance, as months a year completely hath;  
In Bark-shire unto Windsor Castle ride,  
By British Arthur whiles re-edified:  
Which glorious Castle at one time detained  
Two captive Kings by our third Edward gained:  
And in whose Chapel those two Monarches are  
Interred, that toiled us with intestine war.  
Saint edmond's Bury is frequented much,  
Because that thereabouts the air is such:  
Unto that town a journey take, and thence  
To Ipswich go, by Danish violence  
Sacked and made desolate, but now so brave  
That (through 't be none) we worse Cities have.  
Although the King of the East Angles did  
Reside at Thetford, yet I do not bid  
Thee see it: Lyn and Yarmouth more invite  
Thine eyes, but Norwich most deserves thy sight;  
Norfolk▪ chief glory, wherein rustic Ket  
For the commotion died he did beget.  
And take a view of Cambridge, wherein I  
Composed this Poem for thy Remedy.  
Hail honoured Mother! O vouchsafe so much,  
That worthless I may thee a little touch,  
England's bright and right eye! now honoured more  
Than famous Athens was in days of yore,  
Accept my wish. May all thy sources be  
For ever ignorant of vacancy:  
And thou arise unto that height of fame  
That none comparatively may Oxford name:  
Which soon would come to pass, if that our King  
Would end what our sixth Henry did begin.  
Trinity College (unto which I do  
For my own education myself owe)  
Invites thee to behold a spacious Court  
And what it is, afterwards to report:  
That Royal Fabric raised by him that died  
By Crook-backs hands, and is so magnified,  
For that strange roof, will doubtless thee invite  
(Within the walls) of it to take a sight.  
For Colin's sake (who hath so well expressed  
The virtues of our Fairy Elves, and dressed  
Our Poesy in such a gallant guise)  
On happy Pembroke-Hall employ thine eyes.  
Oxford our other Academy, you  
Full worthy must acknowledge of your view:  
Here smooth-tongued Drayton was inspired by  
Mnemosynes' manifold progeny;  
And Sidney (honoured by all English men)  
In Castalie here dipped his numerous pen.  
From Oxford go to Gloster, and from thence  
To sumptuous Bristol, whose magnificence  
For building every stranger much admires;  
A City situated in two shires.  
Kenchesters' Phoenix, Hereford behold:  
And Marcley hill whose motion is so told.  
In Worcester's Cathedral Church you may  
King John's white Marble Monument survey.  
And Arthur's sad Jet Tomb, the eldest son  
Of him that Bosworth field from Richard won.  
Thither a journey make. Then Coventry  
That by Godiva gained liberty,  
Be sure to visit; where at Gofford gate,  
Hangs a Boars bone that some do wonder at.  
See Peterborough Minster: And the 
* Leicest.  place  
Which second Henry did so much deface,  
For Earl Bossus Rebellion. Lincoln grown  
Far into Age, a City whilom known  
More populous and great, do not pass by;  
The Minster in it merits any eye.  
Nor suffer fair and pleasant Nottingham,  
(Where the great Mortimer by those that came  
Thorough a vault, was taken with the Queen)  
By any means by thee to be unseen.  
Thence unto Derby (for your Author's sake,  
A Native of that Shire) a journey take:  
Where in a Black-pot of renowned Ale  
Drink unto me, wishing I may prevail  
So far in Poetry, that my loved name  
May be preserved by an endless fame.  
Here Melborne Castle stood, wherein the Duke  
Of Bourbon was kept prisoner, bravely took  
In Agincourts' great Battle, wherein we  
Conquered by a double policy.  
Repton a station was to glorious Rome,  
And yields unto a Saxon King a Tomb.  
At Burton (in the Peak) nine Springs break out  
Within a little compass, wondrous thought,  
Because that eight of them are warm, and one  
As if it were under the frigid Zone.  
Here likewise are two Caves, whereof one doth  
To stones turn water-drops that hang at th' roof:  
The other (of which strange reports are told)  
The Devil's Arse is called. These behold,  
And Elden Hole, which had Aenaeas seen,  
He would have thought the way to Hell had been,  
And the renowned Elysium shades; for this  
(To humane search) remains yet bottomless.  
Stafford-shire (Trents producer) Lichfield doth  
Adorn, and Shrop-shire Shrewesbury: See both.  
On (Dublins opposite) Westchester look,  
Wherein of eight Kings Edgar homage took.  
Yorkshire a City hath, our best but one,  
And a strange water that turns wood to stone▪  
Kingston on Hull a fine Town is, and which  
Then many of our Cities is more rich.  
Kendal that by the River Cane doth stand,  
(Famous for cloth) is chief of Westmoreland.  
Doubtless in Cumberland, Carlisle by far  
Is the most eminent: See what these are.  
Upon Newcastle builded somewhat nigh  
Severus wall, lastly employ thine eye.  
What ever City it may be, or Town  
Your Mistress makes her habitation,  
You must avoid it, and let no pretence  
Occasion be of your not going thence:  
No business you must value that may be  
A prejudice to your recovery.  
But you to leave your Mistress may suppose  
A misery below the depth of woes.  
Were but your body hurt you would endure  
Fire, and Iron to hasten on your cure:  
Or were you sick, & abstinence could gain  
Your health, from plenteous meals you would refrain,  
And though a thirst even seem to burn you, yet  
You would abstain from drink, and bridle it:  
And now to cure your mind, and draw the dart  
Of angry Cupid from your festering heart,  
You startle and recoil: For shame be bold,  
And the mind's health above the body's hold.  
If you can pick a cause that may produce  
Dislike of your coy Lass, thereof make use.  
Ill's sometime neighbour unto good: For so▪  
Virtue (by error) oft for vice doth go.  
Judge all things in your Mistress at the worst,  
For why should you be kind to her that's cursed?  
If she be big made, easily her esteem  
A match befitting monstrous Polypheme.  
Is but her stature low? a Dwarf her call,  
That like a Serpent on the ground doth crawl.  
If she be slender, lean: If tall, suppose  
Her Charing-cross dressed up in woman's clothes.  
If she be merry think her wanton: or  
Reserv'dly fashioned, as unbred abhor.  
If in the Northern parts she hath been bred,  
Say she her life most clownishly hath led.  
Or if in any City, or great Town,  
That she hath been a gadder up and down.  
What e'er she is, be sure her to dispraise,  
A thousand Girls dislike a thousand ways.  
If you perceive a want in her in aught,  
By crafty means to show't she must be wrought:  
As if she hath no voice, to sing, or dance,  
If she be skilless in that art, by chance.  
Hath she a big voice, or an ill discourse?  
Occasion her to talk, and think them worse.  
Hath she an ill gate? see her walk; and tell  
Her merry stories, if her teeth be ill,  
To make her laugh and show them. If her eyes  
Be weak, relate strange saddest Tragedies  
To force her tears; And if she cannot play  
Upon the Lute, to play upon't her prey.  
Never presume to take a walk alone,  
But ay delight in some Companion:  
If any time the scorching Lions heat  
Compelleth thee into a Grove to get,  
In imitation of Alcides' strong,  
A Phyloctetes bring with thee along,  
With whom play, laugh, converse, and so to thee  
Dione's Grandchild will no tyrant be.  
Lovers, beware of solitariness;  
A very dangerous thing for your disease:  
Let Crustamaena's daughter's w●ful Fate  
(That walked alone through Forests, and would wait  
Upon the Thracian shore (as he did land)  
In hope t'embrace Demophoon on the strand)  
From all such melancholy walks deter  
And warn you, by frequent remembering her.  
In your bedchambers have some friends till sleep;  
That from your minds they may by talking keep  
All amorous thoughts; so Venus will depart,  
And leave in rest to each a quiet heart.  
Beware of reading Love; take heed of those  
That either pourtract him in verse or prose:  
For amorous lines will many mischiefs raise,  
And make the Cinders of affection blaze.  
Though the Arcadia be a book approved,  
Arcadia must not be by thee beloved.  
The Lady Wraths Urania is replete  
With elegancies, but too full of heat.  
Spencer's and daniel's Sonnets do not view,  
Though they are good, they are not so for you.  
From feigned Histories refrain thy sight,  
Scarce one is there but is an amorous Knight.  
Musaeus' Englished by two Poets eat;  
It may undo you though it be well done.  
Harrington's Ariosto do not touch,  
For wanton lines scarce any book hath such.  
And my old friend Drayton's Epistles you  
(Being too soft and languishing) eschew,  
Be opposite to Cupid's law, and when  
Thy tears are falling, forcibly smile then:  
But yet mistake me not, as if I thought,  
That unto freedom you might soon be brought,  
And on a sudden; no, he must take time,  
That o'er a mighty Mountain means to climb:  
So you resolvedly your health intend,  
Y'are certain to arrive at happy end.  
Talk not of Love. Alas! the very name  
Is so enchanting that it will inflame;  
Neither hear any, turn your head aside  
Or presently their company avoid;  
Daphne had yielded to Heaven's Charioteer,  
Had she but stayed his wanton words to hear.  
Drinking of wine forbear, and be to feed  
Wary on meats from which lust doth proceed;  
At every meal be sure to shun excess;  
By eating little heat grows less and less.  
Antonius' one of the Triumvirate,  
Competitor with Caesar for the State,  
With flowing Bowls, and with luxurious feasts  
Was entertained, and entertained his guests:  
Which was the cause his lust so high did flame,  
That life he lost for the Egyptian Dame,  
And over all those Countries to be head,  
Wherein the Roman Eagles ere were spread.  
If by some slight a Garter you have got  
From her that will not love you, keep it not;  
Or if you have a Bracelet of her hair,  
Or any such like toy, them never wear;  
For surely these are Cytheraea's Baits,  
Which infinitely chaste Diana hates.  
Or if your Mistress heretofore hath been  
Kind unto you, and you have gloried in  
Her bounteous favours, thought yourself above  
All mankind graced, with th'honour of her love;  
If under her fair hand you Letters have,  
That she returns her heart for that you gave,  
Fraught with so sweet expressions as would draw  
Even women-Haters under Cupid's Law:  
If she retreats and altars in her mind,  
To you grows cruel that to her are kind,  
Assume a noble Courage, and condemn  
To angry Vulcan every one of them;  
Or if you have her Picture, send it home,  
Or offer it a gallant Hecatomb  
To your offended Love▪ that she may know  
You scorn her Relics that hath used you so.  
Being in love with one, and cannot get her,  
Affect another and you will forget her,  
So Ariadne did when she did find  
Renowned Theseus was to her unkind  
In Naxos Isle, where he did her forsake,  
Neptune she did into her favour take.  
Affection divided you will find  
To be a lesser burden to your mind.  
As a great river with a mighty roar  
Runs through the vales, and wounds the yielding shore,  
If into several Channels it doth fall,  
It less impetuous and majestical  
Will prove, and in an humbler manner glide,  
Robbed of its former glory, strength, and pride.  
So Love be●●ow'd on several beauties will  
Grow much less dangerous and an easier ill.  
When his disloyal Queen the Trojan Prince,  
(With's beauty and his courtly eloquence)  
Did win, and steal away, had Atrcus Son  
But done, as many others would have done,  
(And it had proved the best) become a Lover  
(For sure she had some equals) of an other;  
He in a slourishing and happy peace  
Had lived at home in his own Court in Greece,  
And many an Argive King at home had found  
A Sepulchre, and not in Phrygian ground;  
Therefore new Beauties seek to try, if you  
Can part with any love unto a new;  
And to that end frequent all Solemn Balls  
All public shows and sumptuous Festivals.  
Conjecture that which is not: think that you  
Are free from love, and that your thought is true:  
When one because he would not drink doth make  
As he were fallen asleep, sleep him may take.  
If in the Wars you have a trusty friend,  
Your Cogitations to him always bend,  
Thinking upon the hazard he is in;  
And so your thoughts your Mistress shall not win.  
Or if you have a Ship with riches fraught  
Returning home, ay on it fix your thought;  
Contemplating the fury of the Sea,  
And how that many have been cast away;  
Whereby your scornful Girl you shall forget,  
Sith your imaginations are not set  
On her, but on the Goods that Neptune hath  
Within the power of his love, or wrath.  
If that thy Mistress with a nimble hand  
All the Lutes ravishing harmony doth command,  
Or upon other Instruments can play  
Equal to Orpheus, that did make his way  
Through the Infernal Shades by his rare skill;  
Hear her not play; It will increase thine iii.  
Or if she sings like Venus, when she fain  
Her weary wanton Cupid would constrain  
To lay his fatal quiver and bow away,  
And in the Groves of Amathusia  
Sleep by her side, while on the Cypress Trees  
A thousand birds warble their melodies,  
Hear her not sing; Her voice will so allure  
That her contempt you longer will endure.  
Or dances she like to the Graces, when  
They are retited from the abodes of men,  
And Gods their pleased spectators do become;  
If she intends to dance avoid the room.  
Imagine not a Rival; For so doing  
You never will be able to leave wooing;  
For, (to obtain the Girl from him) you will  
Persist a vain Inamorato still.  
The one-eyed Cyclops, when he Acis found  
Sitting with Galatea on the ground,  
His Rival with a rent up rock did kill,  
Yet n●'re the nearer to obtain his will;  
When she another's did begin to be,  
The more Orestes loved Hermione.  
Refrain from Plays; Let not the Theatre  
At all include thee; for by seeing there  
One act an amorous passion, may make you  
Your suit to your proud Lady to pursue.  
Because when you have seen that he hath got  
His Mistress, may conceive, why may you not?  
Ah! his was but th' Invention of a brain,  
Your Lady's scorns runs in an higher strain.  
If you conveniently can, surprise  
Your mistress dress, so your wary eyes  
Some strange concealed deformities may find,  
To ease, if not release your Captive mind;  
Which when you think upon (at leisure) more,  
They to your liberty may you restore.  
Most of our Ladies when they do expose  
Themselves to view, may thank their costly clothes  
Rich jewels, feigned statures, borrowed hair,  
And beauteous colours that unnatural are;  
They would not else seem objects of delight,  
But homely women, such as we should slight▪  
And your disdainful one perhaps being such,  
You see the least of her you love so much.  
But rashly do not practise this; Be sure  
She useth art, or fly her chamber door;  
For a pure native beauty that doth scorn  
All helps of Art, arises like the Morn  
In a clear sky, and (dressing) may discover  
Sights too attractive for a slighted lover.  
Do these, and though affection's fire should blaze  
Like Aetna in your breast, you thence would chase  
Easily all those flames, and after be  
From all the Paphian vexations free.  
Unfortunate Lovers many times (I guess)  
All that reciprocally love do bless,  
Think every star (when they were born) did shine  
Benignly on them, and the Heavens combine  
To grace them with continuance of joys,  
As if they were above all miseries;  
When it falls often out, a fervent love  
A more extreme affliction doth prove.  
Alcyone her Ceyx did prefer  
Above all men and he all women, her;  
Yet she did see his body float to shore  
Drowned at Sea but a few days before.  
Therefore to Hymen's Temple though they come,  
And hear the soft Epithalamium,  
And many days do live in joy and peace,  
In depths of wretchedness they may decease.  
And many that for love do marry, be  
After unfortunate, and not agree;  
Almighty Jove that did Saturnia wed,  
Bringing for love his sister to his bed,  
Quickly neglected her; His wand'ring e●es  
Not long being pleased without varieties;  
As witness Danae in the Brazen tower,  
And Semele his daringest Paramour,  
Leda by him esteemed most beautiful,  
And fair Europa riding on a Bull;  
Calisto (chaste Diana) One of thine  
Deceived, and vitiated near Nonacrine;  
Married Alcmene in a threefold night,  
And many such too tedious to recite.  
These and the like of his Amours being known,  
Juno's firm'st patience was overthrown;  
Who (by her much opprobrious language given)  
Hath divers times even scolded him from Heaven▪  
Be gentle henceforth (Cupid) and invite  
Reciprocally unto thy delight:  
For bloodshed (wanton) is unfit for you;  
Thy Sire-by-law should dreadful Arms pursue;  
'tis he that may great Territories waste,  
And make whole Kingdoms at his name aghast.  
'tis he not thou that sternly should advance  
(To the expulsure of a Soul) a Lance.  
'tis he that should sound trumpets, and the noise  
Of baleful Drums make penetrate the skies.  
Lutes, Viols, Orpherions, such as these,  
Not Mars his wrathful Music thee should please:  
But be as cruel as thou wilt, my verse  
Shall blunt thine arrows that they shall not pierce.  
Our work we have concluded, and do pray  
All those, whose burnings Fits it shall allay,  
To love our Memory, and speak our praise,  
And (if we merit them) to give the Bays.    

The first Eglogue.  Coridon, and Strephon. Cori. 
WHy Strephon▪ art thou melancholy grown  
And wil● not use thine oaten pipe? hast known  
Any ill news of late hath dulled thy wit,  
Made us unhappy, and thyself unfit?  Stre. 
'Tis no Report, kind Coridon, hath made  
Me cloud my brow with sorrow and be sad;  
It is a cause more high, a cause that can  
Destroy the joy of the most fortunate man.  Cori. 
And may I know it Strephon? Dare you trust  
Me with a Secret, and conceive me just,  
Believe I will be silent? If you dare,  
I should desire this Novelty to hear.  Stre. 
Ah, Coridon! I am in love with one,  
The fairest Shepherdess was ever known;  
Her Face is beauties abstract, wherein we  
May (at perfection) every beauty see.  Corid. 
And art thou sad because thou art in love?  
So Jove should grieve because he reigns above;  
There is no fate so high befalls a Swain,  
As to love where he is beloved again.  
Tell me (my Strephon) therefore why art sad?  
Is it because thy Dear will not be had?  Stre. 
She cannot (Coridon) for she is wed,  
And fine young Perigot hath her maidenhead,  
As blithe a Shepherd as did ever sing  
Neat Roundelays unto our Goat-foot King;  
He is an happy man, and doth enjoy  
That beauty which I languish for, and die.  Cori. 
Strephon, I grieve thou art enthralled so;  
Desist betimes, and forward do not go;  
Thy flames extinguish whilst they do begin,  
For such a Love is against Pan a Sin.  
And while young Perigot lives what hope have you,  
If she unto him do not prove untrue?  Stre. 
I do confess I have none; neither would  
Commit so great an evil, if I could;  
I am enamoured neither more nor less  
Than Thenot, on the faithful Shepherdess:  
I love her virtues, and if she should fall,  
My love to her would be no love at all.  Corid. 
Thou art an honest Swain, and our Feild-God  
Will bless thee in thy Cottage and abroad.  Stre. 
As I have faithfully to you replied,  
So let none of my questions be denied.  Cori. 
They shall not (Strephon;) I should be unjust  
Unto your merits, if I did distrust  
Your secrecy in any thing I speak;  
He that doth doubt his friend, doth friendship break.  Stre. 
Is there no l●ss whom Coridon doth like?  
You, did the Paphian Archer never strike?  
Or are you such a man as never cared  
Whether a woman's heart were soft or hard?  Corid. 
Strephon, I love, but I do fear in vain,  
Because rich Melibe intends to gain  
A wealthier Shepherd for his daughter, one  
Whose fortune must prevent thy Coridon.  Stre. 
And would he merchandise his daughter? may  
He long expect and never see that day.  
Steal her young Shepherd; never let her be  
(Whom thou affects) subject to salary.  Corid. 
But ere I saw my Mira, or did know  
What beauties made her perfect, I did owe  
My love to Galatea; but I lost  
My labour, which good old Palaemon crossed,  
Because he did believe that I would prove  
A careless Shepherd, and the Downs not love:  
Judge (Strephon) that knowst me above report,  
If I be justly censured by him fort ';  
Do I not love the fields, and use to play  
On Oaten reeds many a Roundelay?  Stre. 
He that says otherwise, he doth not know  
Thy Nature truly, but becomes thy foe;  
Because (being Ignorant) he doth undertake  
So bold a Character of thee to make;  
Were he acquainted with thy ways, to thee  
Palaemon would give Galatea free;  
And think his age more happy than his youth,  
That made a Shepherd his of so much truth.  Corid. 
Flatter not (Strephon) I do want those parts  
That make a man be loved for his deserts;  
Could I but sing such neat fine Lays, as you,  
I might believe these praises were my due.  Stre. 
And so you can if Tityrus says right,  
Who told me Ditties you did well indite.  Corid. 
Now you do mention Tityrus, I must  
Be to his merits, and our friendship just;  
He is a Shepherd (would he please to sing)  
Might lengthen with his voice the speedy Spring:  
Did he but know how much the downs he wrongs,  
The woods and dales would echo with his songs;  
He knows when Notes are over-sharp, or flat,  
And is the ablest Boy that ever sat  
Upon an Hillock, would he use his Reed,  
And joy his want on flock while it doth feed.  Stre. 
He is an able Lad indeed, and likes  
Arcadian Pastorals, and (willing) strikes  
A Plaudite to th' Epilogues of those  
Happy Inventions Shaksphere did compose;  
Beaumond and Fletcher he will listen to,  
And allow Jonson's method high and true.  
He praised you to me, and I do believe  
He his own Judgement would not wrong to give  
Feigned Commendations; Do not (therefore) fear  
Sith he approves your pipe, who doth it hear.  Corid. 
Strephon, I thank both you, and him, & will  
Be proud hereafter to make known my skill:  
If I but please the few I mean it for,  
To seek for vulgar praise I shall abhor.  Stre. 
Coridon it is late: Farewell until  
We meet again upon this flowery Hill;  
My Master will make wonder at my stay,  
I otherwise would not so soon away.  Cori. 
Thy Master's happy in thy care, Adieu:  
As I will be in absence, be thou true.   

The second Eglogue.  Thenot, and Amarillis. Then. 
WHy art thou sad (fair Shepherdess) and so  
Fil'st Heaven with sighs of hidden inward woe?  
What is the reason that in thy fresh years  
Thou drownest thy lovely cheeks with showers of tears,  
Withering the Roses that did flourish there,  
And pal'st thy youthful blood with heavy cheer?  
Behold the long expected Spring is come,  
And joyful Birds are now no longer dumb:  
They every Grove that is do make a Choir,  
Chirping in them the lays of their desire.  
Our Lads and Lasses that in winter were  
Drowsy like the dull season of the year,  
Are merry now, and (upon all the Downs)  
Kindly receive, and kindly give green Gowns.  
Only our Amarillis feign'st of all  
Mourns like a follower of a Funeral:  
What is the cause? for I would gladly know  
If it such sorrow doth deserve, or no.  Amar. 
Ah Thenot, reverenced for thy hoary hair,  
Of all the Shepherds that amongst us are!  
To thee the soonest I would unload my mind,  
That art in Counsel wise, in pity kind,  
Wise, to advise me if I do amiss,  
And pitiful, to rue my wretchedness:  
Know I have cause to weep, as long as I  
Have any moisture left in either eye,  
To tear off every hair from off my head,  
And rage impatiently till I am dead.  
O my Credulity! That did suppose  
There could be faith in any Lover's oaths!  Then. 
Then 'tis for love that Amarillis thus  
Disconsolately liveth here with us:  
But which of all our Boys is so unwise  
To slight a Beauty of so rich a price?  Amar. 
Knewest thou not Thyrsis, that had wont to keep  
On yonder Hill a jolly flock of Sheep,  
Who all the while they on the banks did feed,  
Played merry tunes upon his Oaten reed?  
Such songs as Alta highly did esteem,  
And for their quaintness was in love with him;  
The Daughter of rich jonius, who was  
Took with his pipe, like many an other Lass.  
But when my Shepherd all the rest did slight,  
And in my beauty only did delight,  
He did not care for all her wealth, and (though  
She was an handsome Wench) would never woe;  
For such Command I then had of his heart,  
That I did think he never could depart:  
Which being known, his angry Father sent  
Him out of Arcady in discontent;  
That being far removed, and forth of sight  
He might forget his Amarillis quite.  
And so I hear he hath; and yet he swore  
Absence should make his love not less, but more.  
Ah, perjured man! He faithless and untrue,  
Hath falsely slighted me, and took a new.  
O Thenot! Couldst thou think that Thyrsis, he  
That made such vows would ever faithless be?  
His vows had he broke only, it had been  
A pardonable and a venial Sin:  
Thenot! can men weep like a Crocodile?  
Have they their tears so ready to beguile?  
He wept when we did part as much as I,  
And now is guilty of such perjury.  Then. 
Sad Amarillis, though I know thy youth  
Cannot sustain the breach of Lover's truth  
Without Impatiency (For women when  
They bear affection seldom change like men)  
Yet know (in you) 'twere wisdom to remove  
Your heart from him that hath so failed in love.  Amar. 
Ere I can leave my Thyrsis, Thenot, know  
I must want life; when I do backward go,  
Just Jove revenge my falsehood; I will be  
True as I was, though he hath slighted me;  
Know honest Thenot that I am not Wind,  
When I have settled once, to change my mind;  
When I prove false, Thou glorious Guide of day,  
Change East and West, and run another way;  
And thou pale-horned Queen of night constrain  
The Sea to dulness, neither wax nor wane;  
The pleasant Ladon first shall change his Course,  
And every River run back to the Source;  
The fixed Stars weary of standing shall  
Amaze Astrologers be Planets all:  
And toiled Boötes (tired with his pain)  
Leave travel off, and fix his sevenfold Wain.  Then. 
Be comforted (sweet Lass) For sure when he  
Returns again, again he will love thee.  Amar. 
Thenot, could I expect but so much good,  
I here would live as merry as I could,  
And to our rural Pan each night and morn  
Make faithful Orisons for his Return.  Then. 
Trust me (young Amarillis) I have no  
Doubt of him; but am sure it will be so:  
An honest man may fall, and yet may be  
Not ever in his fault; neither will he.  
When he returns and finds that you have been  
True unto him, ashamed of his Sin,  
His former faith he will renew, and more  
Love Amarillis then he loved before.  Amar. 
Thanks (gentle Thenot) for these words of joy,  
Poor Amarillis to her Fortunes try,  
And (if that me you ever thankless find)  
Banish my name for ever from your mind:  
Thy Speeches have raised hope he will come back,  
And me again into his favour take▪  
And that on holidays (when all the Rout  
Do sport the meadows and the fields about,  
(Crowning with Garlands her that Dances best,  
Making her Mistress of our Country-Feast)  
With showing Gambols on the dazy Green  
And eating Cheesecakes with our Summer Queen)  
I with my Shepherd (among th' others) shall  
Dance many a merry Jig, and many a Brawl:  
For since my Thyrsis from Arcadia went,  
I solitary have lived discontent;  
When others have been playing, have sat down  
And moistened with my tears the Sunburnt ground.  Then. 
But leave such sadness (Amarillis) now  
And unto us thy Company allow;  
For I dare lay the best Lamb I have here,  
He shortly will return, and love thee dear.  Amar. 
My thanks again good Thenot; Ever be  
Beloved of Pan for comforting of me.  Then. 
And may our rural God (fair Shepherdess)  
Thee with fruition of thy Wishes bless.  Amar. 
I have no other wish but that my Swain  
Would come to us, and be mine own again.  
Happy the day when we by Ladon side  
Eat Cream, and kisses mutually enjoyde:  
And happy were those Nights, when on his knee  
He by the Fire side did dandle me!  
How often as we sat so hath thy Son  
Thy Billy Thenot to th'old Woman run,  
For apples to make lambs-wool! Never more  
We two shall drink as we have drunk before.  
But far more happy were those days of note,  
When we from Martin did live far remote,  
In thy kind Cottage, when I did not know  
What 'twas to love and be forsaken so;  
There I have sung, and laughed, & laughed, & song,  
And been as merry as the day was long;  
But since my Thyrsis hath both wooed, and won me,  
And so forgotten me, he hath undone me.  Then. 
We should have something to divert this thought;  
For Melancholy (Shepherdess) is naught.  
I hope that now we very shortly shall  
Hear on our Green that pleasant Pastoral,  
Which (of an Obstinate Lass) young Coridon,  
Thy lovesick Brother did write long agone;  
Which Tityrus his faithful Friend approved,  
A Shepherd for his able parts beloved.  Amar. 
When it is song I will not fail to hear  
For Coridon's sake, whom I do love so dear;  
To me that Pastoral he oft hath said,  
While both our neighbor-flocks have fed, & played;  
And (honest Thenot) many sundry times  
I unto him have read my Thyrsis rhymes,  
Wherein he praised me above womankind;  
And little did I think those Words were wind.  
But those few happy days are past, and now  
Sad care sits always heavy on my brow.  
Ere Thyrsis went none danced so much as I,  
None laughed so cheerfully, none did enjoy  
So many nights of joy, and days of bliss;  
And all because I thought that I was his:  
And if (when he returns again) he will  
Receive his long-forsaken Amarillis,  
The Lamb, which best of all my Flock I prise,  
Unto our rural Pan I'll sacrifice.  Then. 
Fair Shepherdess, be confident ere long  
He will return, and quit him of the wrong  
That he hath done himself, increasing so  
His former love that you no end shall know.  
'tis time to fouled our Flocks: For we have sat  
So long a talking that it is grown late.  Amar. 
Thenot, Good-night! And thanks for thy kind stay,  
Heaven prosper thee long to Arcadia:  
For, if that thou, and some few more should die,  
Our Countery soon the Pastoral Muse would fly.   

A Satire.  

AWay with Plays, and Sonnets! I will write  
A dreadless Satire shall the town affright,  
And make the Gallants curse and swear that he  
Meant this by him, and this he meant by me.  
I will spare none, but warn; that each man learns  
(When he applies) to mind whom it concerns.  
But hark! I hear a friend: Away! And do  
Not such a thing; It should not come from you:  
Let needy Poets that cannot sell their Plays  
Exclaim (out of their want) against the days;  
Or (whom a Lord for Dedication owes)  
Tax him with all his faults, a way each knows;  
Or let a despised Lover (whom of late  
His Mistress for his verses jeered) go prate,  
Tell how she paints, who are her Bawds, & which  
Of the young Courtiers comes to ease her Itch;  
But not a man of our own rank disclose,  
What either he by his experience knows,  
Or from his friend's relation; In this time  
Not to perform but to be seen's a Crime:  
And there are many do grow worse when they  
See vice revealed, cause then they know the way.  
This cannot serve: I will unload my spleen,  
And spare no ulcers be they old or green.  
Methinks I hear one speak; Sir, do your worst,  
We shall not be the last, not are the first  
That have by Paper-blurrers been defamed,  
And (when y'ave done) we will proceed unshamed.  
I did believe as much, but I will on  
Only for my own recreation.  
Ask but a Chambermaid (which are the froth  
Of vain discourse) what her young Lady doth;  
And she will certify you of each change  
Her humour hath, and every subtle range  
Her strange unbridled passions lead her to;  
How she complains her Knight is grown untrue  
Unto his vows and her, and therefore she  
Seeks Pastimes to divert her Melancholy;  
Frequents the Theatres, Hyde-park, or else talks  
Away her precious time in Gray's Inn Walks;  
Lays out what she can spare (to win his heart  
By any means) for the last helps of art;  
And vows (if nothing in her power lies  
To gain him) she'll no longer be unwise,  
And spend her flourishing days in solitude,  
Unfit, and unagreeing with her blood;  
That there's a Gallant Courtier, young, and rich  
In Nature's perfectest Endowments, which  
She yet hath slighted much; but now ('tis thought)  
She will requite her Husband, and be naught.  
O Feminine Revenge! to brand her Name,  
With Infamy, and Family with shame!  
Nor is this all her News: She can discover  
Whom the old Knight's daughter hath made her lover;  
That she dotes on him so, she cannot keep  
Her tongue from naming him though in her sleep;  
That she would fain be married, for the awe  
She bears unto an unkind Mother in law;  
How he's a younger brother, and ●oth lack  
Silver in's purse though has enough on's back.  
O vanity of times! Secrets that shooed  
Be locked within 's fast as our bosom's blood,  
And faults that should be mended, and not known  
(By such like means) common discourse are grown:  
Some will be censuring things that are above  
Their way, because such things they do not love;  
Sir, out of love unto you I am come  
To certify you, you give cause to some  
To laugh at you; y'ave writ a Play, and they  
Say 'tis a shame for you to write a Play:  
Besides you Poetry so much affect,  
That you the better Sciences neglect.  
O thou sweet Charmer of the Soul ● Why should  
This Iron age so meanly of thee hold?  
Hast thou mov▪ d savage beasts, and rocks, & trees,  
And canst not win upon the hearts of These!  
Enjoy your earthen thoughts: minds full of fire  
Can never grovel, but do all aspire.  
Madam! 'tis true I've writ some Plays, and wood  
I had the happiness to call them good,  
I would be proud on't: for my love unto  
The Mus●s, I will ever love them so;  
And though some think't a fault, I know it none;  
There is no poison grows on Helicon.  
You are resolved: but I do think it fit  
That you on better things employed your wit;  
And so I leave you. Madam, Fare you well;  
And what I've said, unto my daughters tell.  
Mend your own faults: be not so proud of your  
One portion, as if no body had more;  
And when that you have Suitors, do not scare  
Them away with looks like th'angry God of war.  
But I must leave her: For I see another  
That for her wit may call my Madam mother.  
She is a young one, lately married to  
A Lord: Now let us see what she will do.  
Sir, I am glad to see you; Madam I  
Rejoice to hear of your good fortune; why?  
You have a noble and rich husband; So  
I did deserve for what I brought you know.  
Were I but such a man I would not wed  
So low, and rather keep a single bed.  
I am an Hogen Mogens daughter; good,  
You may boast of your wealth, not of your blood.  
Of my Husband I may. Indeed 'tis true;  
But he was much to blame to marry you:  
Sir, you do wrong me much: and I do pray  
To me you would not dedicate a Play,  
I scorn to own such Trifles; I did hear  
'Twas your Intent, which if it was, forbear:  
A Poet once of your acquaintance did,  
But for his sauciness he was well chid.  
Madam know this, I do not write for gain,  
My pleasure is the Guerdon of my pain;  
And never with one mean to trouble you,  
Though it were acted in a public Stew.  
I know the Poet you spoke of, and know  
It was his want that forced him thereunto;  
He knew you was unfit for't, and that scant  
Could understand a Scene so ignorant.  
Therefore learn this; The rich the poor do praise,  
Not for their merits, but their stock to raise:  
And 'tis no doubt but he did give you high  
Titles of worth, yet knew himself did lie.  
Take your unpaid for Coach, and to Hyde-park,  
And (Madam) when the Cuckoo sings, pray hark;  
It is a music you can manage; or send  
For a Crowd of Fiddlers and their skill commend;  
Know, that for you 'tis an impossible thing  
The hear the sweet and solemn Muses sing:  
An earthen mind hath earthen thoughts, and they  
That noble Souls have noble things survey.  
Madam adieu! Think of me what you will,  
Of your Opinion I am careless still.  
Whether this Lady angry be or no  
I do not care at all; So let her go.  
Go into Gray's Inn Walks, and you shall see  
Matter for Satyrs in each Company;  
This Lady comes to show her new fine Gown,  
And this to see the Gallants of the town.  
Most part of Gentlemen thither repair,  
To censure who is foul, and who is fair.  
Yond Lady in th'red Satin looks so pale,  
That eirher she hath th' Green-sickness, or is stale.  
She in the Hat and Feather looks so like  
An Amazonian Tosser of a Pike,  
She's fit for a fiery Captain: yond's a face  
Pretty and beautiful at the first Gaze;  
But view it seriously, and it is slight.  
What an old woman's that with a young Knight?  
Sure 'tis his Grandmother, or great Aunt; alas!  
He had much rather a walked with a young Lass.  
O, says a young Lady to her brother, when  
Did you see so complete a Gentleman?  
Has he not curious legs? fine curled hair?  
How well the Suit is made that he doth wear!  
I would my Husband were so handsome: So  
He is her brother swears, but she sighs no.  
Yond Gallant's gate is like unto a Dance,  
Sure he's returned but newly out of France;  
yond's like a fools or clowns, I know not whether,  
And (if he's any wit) he'll soon go thither,  
Says a Lady to her husband: He replied,  
See how that woman walks! with what a pride,  
She very lately was a City-wife  
But now a Lord o'th' Court hath changed her life:  
Her Husband being dead, and she left rich,  
She for a title of more height did itch;  
Which her good fortune got her: In her own  
Conceit she is the only happy one;  
She thinks her Husband loves her, and I dare  
Be sworn that he for her doth nothing care.  
When he at night comes in, towards him she trips,  
And he must kiss her though he loath her lips,  
Which out of his affection he doth do,  
She thinks, but I have told you what is true.  
Vain, windy honour! what a sought for thing!  
'Twill make a Kettle have a silver ring.  
Survey a Tavern; Not a Room but will  
Deserve a Satire, they are all so ill.  
Here is a Gentleman that hath a smack  
Of rhyming with a Poet at his back,  
And half a dozen of his drunken friends,  
Who doth adopt him son for what he spends;  
Praises his Poems for the best that were  
(Since H●ngist time) writ in the English air:  
And (For 'tis vain to go to Delphos now  
For Oracles) Son! read my lines, and thou  
(Cries he) will't say Apollo never could  
(God of the sacred Muses) write as good.  
He swears as many oaths as he repeats  
Verses, then calls for the dearest Fowl, and eats,  
Beg's money when the reckon's paid, and so  
(Having filled his Tobacco-box) doth go.  
Another chamber view, and you may find  
Gentlemen staggering with wine as wind;  
See healths drunk round & round; To her that lies  
By Suffolk-house, and hath the fine blackeys;  
Unto whose Lodgings he dares not repair,  
Because she will not marry but an Heir;  
To the rich Lady Widow that did invite  
Him kindly unto supper yesternight, (great)  
Who (though his means be small, her jointure  
Without his company can eat no meat;  
To the rich Citizen's daughter (gallant Girl!)  
The haft Mask full of Diamonds and Pearl.  
Were you within the next Room, you might see  
A Gentleman with a great Company  
Of miscal'd Captains, and Roarers that think (drink;  
Oaths (Sugar-like) sweeten each Glass they  
A precious Engle! Hug'd over, and over, and styled  
An hopeful spark, or they are all beguiled;  
The Table full of Pottles, Pints, and Quartos,  
And they a humouring him with some old parts  
Of the last Corantoes, or perhaps some thing  
Of Note, performed by the late Sweden King.  
They call for what they list, meaning that he  
Shall pay the reckoning for th' whole Company;  
Which when he hath, they steal what plate they can  
Finger, and part, and laugh at th' idle man.  
I'll not go up two pair of stairs, yet there  
Could be Satirical as well as here.  
And now I send, desiring those that know  
Themselves touched in these lines away to go  
Silent, and mend; For every thing is true:  
And though I neither do name him, nor you,  
Believe't I could & that I would. But (faith!)  
Would you not be revenged? Do; Show your wrath,  
Of me go and write Satyrs, for (I know it)  
My faults will serve although you are no Poet.     

Love Elegies.  

1. Of my falling in Love.  

HAving resolved in Numbers great and high  
To sing our Brutus Flight from Italy;  
How in this Island he arrived, and fought  
Till he it under his Subjection brought;  
Here reinged some years in peace, & when he died  
To his three Sons did all the whole divide:  
And being prepared to write, a sudden noise  
Of a Coach did occasion me to rise,  
Conjecturing whom it might be that did come,  
Till a new day approached our Dining-room.  
She was no sooner entered in the Place,  
With her fair hand dispersed Night from her face  
By taking off her mask, and with a free  
Wellpleasing Garb looked on the Company,  
(My eyes being all the while fixed on her face,  
Astonished at her beauty, and her grace)  
But I both sighed and trembled; For I saw  
The winged Boy did follow her in awe,  
And was become her Champion, to subject  
All mankind at her feet that dare reflect  
Rash looks on her. Alas! had I espied  
The fatal God, ere I her Beauties eyed,  
The sight of his resistless bow had soon  
(With down cast eyes) made me to leave the room.  
To him she turning scornfully, did find  
No shaft in's hand, I had it in my mind,  
And said; Why Truant, do you suffer thus  
A rash presumptuous youth to gaze on us?  
He humbly gave this answer; Madam, you  
May be appeased, he soon his fault will rue;  
When he came hither first, he did intend  
A mighty Epic Poem to have penned;  
But now that resolution will despise,  
And court your favours in soft Elegies:  
Before he had withdrawn his eyes he found  
His yielding heart assaulted with a wound.  
This said, a pretty, and disdainful look  
She cast upon me, and her leave then took  
Of those she came to visit, leaving me  
Possessed with sad thoughts of my Misery.  
Away (Great Mars) sighed I, when she was gone,  
And welcome (Gentle Venus) with thy Son;  
The horrid wars that I did mean to write  
(In stately numbers) of the Trojan Knight,  
I must convert to softer Lays, and prove  
All ways t'incline her noble heart to Love.    

2. To my Mistress.  

Fair glory of your Sex! when you have read  
My name subscribed, and find who's conquered,  
Blame not my weakness; know your eyes are strong,  
And can do what they will, or right or wrong.  
I did not look to love, only to see,  
And was enthralled when I least thought to be.  
Be kind; or (if you needs will tyrannize)  
I'll be your Martyr, burn me with your eyes.  
But let me live; For th' Art is more profound,  
To save a dying Man, then kill a Sound▪    

3. To my Mrs. before Mr. Mayes Lucan that I sent her.  

Pardon me Lady, that I dare invent  
Lines neither worth your view, nor my intent.  
Nero did murder Lucan, but I do  
Expect a life, and not a death from you:  
With Piso and the learned Seneca  
He treason against Caesar did assay;  
Yet's Emperor gave him leave to choose by what  
Means he would undergo the Law of Fate.  
I never did conceive a thought that you  
Might think offence, unless affection true;  
And that should not your indignation move:  
The Gods will give us leave their Heaven to love▪  
He lives unto Report, and so shall I  
(If slain) demonstrate your great Cruelty.  
You are my Empress; under your fair hand  
Send me what Destiny you will command.  
My Fate is what you please to have it: I  
Live by your kindness, or your coyness die.    


4.  
Lady, in your applause verse goes  
As slow and dull as heavy prose;  
And your known worths (would you submit  
Yourself a subject unto Wit)  
Would blunt invention, and (o'ercome  
With strong Amaze) make Poets dumb.  
By what means then shall I declare  
My thoughts at height, or what you are?  
A world of Paper would but be  
My love in an Epitome:  
Fair Lady, therefore do not look  
For my affection in a book:  
Search my life through, and if you find  
Not what I can do, be unkind.    

5.  

Petrarch, for the neat Sonnets he did frame  
In Laura's praise, obtained a Poet's Name:  
I of my Mistress write in verse, and show it,  
And yet I do profess I am no Poet.  
They feign, but I speak truth; what they invent  
(Out of long study) for a Compliment,  
In me is earnest; Those rich words that they  
Enforce upon some beauties, I can lay  
With reverence on you whom I adore,  
And Times to come may as a Saint implore;  
Then unto all may you propitious be,  
I wish to heaven you now were so to me.  
Believe, because these are unsmooth, my wit  
Dulled with amazement, and my hand unfit  
To hold a pen so steady as to write,  
Lest some Offence should frustrate my delight.  
Your Beauty is my wonder: That you should  
Prove merciless, my fear: but my most bold,  
And happiest earthly wish is, That you may  
With kindness save whom else your beauties slay.    

6.  

Lady I love, and (if you can  
Believe there is a faith in man)  
No one can think a Mistress fitter,  
Nor any love a Mistress better.  
When I do look on you, I scorn  
The rosy blushes of the morn;  
When I do hear you speak, I know  
No music can so sweetly go;  
When I at first your lips did touch,  
I thought Jove never met with such;  
I tasted Odours in your breath  
Able to win a Soul from death;  
All things that have been by you, smell  
So fragrant after, and so well,  
That Flora may be banished,  
And you elected in her stead.  
My senses being yours, make all  
My future days one Festival:  
And comfort me who now am sad,  
Lest losing Senses I grow mad.    

7.  

Now after tedious weeks of being mute,  
The Mistress of my life I do salute.  
As it is in your power to make each line  
Of Poesy I write to you, divine;  
(For if you kindly smile on them, you give  
Ability enough to make them live)  
So is it in your power (if you would please  
To speak those words) to raise me unto ease;  
For unto me, Enceladus doth lie  
In flakes of Snow, and I in Fires die.  
Do not believe I counterfeit, who think  
Verses in your praise would transcolour Ink;  
And your Glass an Elysium, where one may  
Behold your Shadow ere your dying day;  
And that reflection I had rather view  
Then all the beauties in the world but you.  
Had I your Picture reasonably wrought,  
No Lady like it should command my thought;  
Pigmalion-like I would adoreed, until  
You did prove kind, or me my griefs did kill.  
Think not I do dissemble; For who can  
Look on your face unmoved, that is a man?  
Who ist'hath heard your voice, but he will say  
Your Tongue can charm all hearers to obey?  
And who hath touched your lips, but like unto  
A Lethe-drinker, forgets all save you?  
But I am ecstasied! you are above  
My best expressions though I am in love.    

8.  

When I look on your Ribband-knots, I find  
That my rash gazing eyes have thralled my mind:  
For they become you so exceeding well,  
That they have tie my tongue, I cannot tell.  
When I perceive the wanton Winds to play  
With your unequalled hair, amazed I stay,  
And bless their happiness; that they can move  
Those amorous tresses and not fall in love.  
When you into Hide Park do go, all there  
To follow the race-riders do forbear,  
And all of them unanimously approach,  
And (as if waiters) do attend your Coach;  
That your fair eyes may shine on them, whose light  
Doth set their hearts on fire at the sight;  
And force vows from them, that for your dear sake  
Of greatest toils they greatest joys would make.  
But what do I do then! I nothing can;  
Your beauties make a Statue of a Man.  
I cannot look and talk to you like some;  
Lady! your matchless Beauties strike me dumb.  
But when I am retired, and alone,  
My resolutions then do yield to none;  
Regard, reward my earnest love, and so  
Raise me to heights of joy from depths of wo.    

9  

Lady, from Cornwall unto you I writ,  
But my hard Fates kept you from seeing it.  
How glad had I been if that you had known  
That there I was yours much more than mine own!  
Each wind that blew I loved, because I thought  
The sound thereof might to your ears be brought;  
Each Shower that came I wished of gold, and that  
Jove-like I fell into my Danae's lap:  
Each star I saw put me in mind of thee;  
But thouart too fair a little star to be.  
I went to Sea, and when I there was come,  
I thought of him that to his Hero swom,  
And wished so you did love as she did him,  
That like Leander I to you might swim.  
But now I am returned again, be you  
As kind to me as you have found me true.    

10.  

Awake my Muse▪ put on thy best attire  
To sing her Beauty, and my raging fire:  
Make all the world know, (since she will not know)  
That she is much to blame to use me so.  
Sweet, cruel, fair one! (unto all of these  
You may reply causes of my unease)  
For you are sweet as flowery May's west wind;  
Why should so sweet a Creature be unkind?  
And you are fair, and fair, and sweet must be,  
The reason I endure your Cruelty.  
Each Statue I see makes me my Case thus moan;  
It hath a Body, you an heart of stone.  
I fain would die, but thinking I must come  
To be a wanderer in Elysium,  
I do destroy that infant-thought; for there  
No Soul's so pure as is your body here.  
Each night my troubled thoughts keep sleep away;  
That time's to me as busy as the day:  
But you that are with never a care oppressed,  
Enamour the night Deities in your rest;  
Old Somnus fears his wand may do some ill,  
And therefore charms your eyes with kisses still.  
O that I knew the way whereby to move  
My sweet and cruel fair One unto love!  
Will sighing do it? O you Gods of wind!  
Lend me your breaths that I may sigh her kind:  
Will tears prevail? O that my eyes would then  
Melt out themselves into an Ocean!  
Or may Entreaties win upon her sense?  
Assist me all you Powers of eloquence;  
Pity my miseries which are grown so high,  
That you must pity them, or I shall die:  
And be not henceforth harsh; That I may find  
My sweet and fair One like a Goddess kind.    

11.  

Fair Mistress, though my fate is so adverse,  
That I could rather weep then sing in verse;  
Yet one or two I'll force my Muse to write,  
And you with your own Cruelty delight.  
Me-thoughts when last I heard the Nightingale,  
She did not mention her own woes at all;  
But every note that past my listening ear  
Did make me my own misery to hear:  
It was a change worthy her skill, for she  
Will sing the saddest things, and therefore me.  
Pity a man in Hell, for there I am,  
I could not else live so amidst my flame;  
And make my joys with all my sufferings even;  
But two kind words, and I shall be in Heaven.    

12.  

Dear Lady, from your eyes there came  
A lightning did my heart inflame,  
And set it all on burning so,  
That forth the fire will never go.  
Be merciful, for I remain,  
Till you be kind, in endless pain;  
And (machless fair One) deign to know  
That pity should with beauty go;  
That comely bodies should include  
Minds in them equally as good.  
I will not doubt you until I  
Have reason from your Cruelty.  
Since we deformed bodies find  
To be the Emblems of the mind;  
Why should not I pursue that art,  
And think one fair hath such an heart?  
Confirm Philosophy, which you  
By being merciful may do:  
And unto the eternal praise  
Of your rich Beauty I will raise  
A fame so high, that times to come  
Of your dear name shall ne'er be dumb;  
So you with Rosalinde shall be  
Eternised unto Memory,  
With Stella live; names known as well  
As Colin Clout, and Astrophel.  
As kindness in a Lady can  
Preserve in life a dying man;  
So verses (after she is dead)  
Report will of her spread.  
Return affection, and we then  
Shall live though die, and live again.    

13.  

I have mine eyes and love: for who  
Hath eyes to see and doth not so?  
Who can behold a lovely face,  
Both full of beauty and of grace;  
See pretty lips, and glorious eyes,  
And not be changed though ne'er so wise?  
Rich Cherry-cheeks, and brows Divine,  
And not desire would she were mine?  
I have a Lady lately seen  
Far perfecter than beauty's Queen;  
Diana's virtues make her stayed,  
And Venus form a lovely Maid;  
Surely two Goddesses have striven  
To make a wonder of my Love:  
No Beauty Venus lets her want;  
And Diana hath made her a Saint,  
To pray to Saints many deny,  
And censure for idolatry;  
But none of them will say I err  
If I with prayers petition her.  
Deign therefore virtuous, beauteous Fair,  
(You that are more than others are  
For beauty whom all wonder at,  
And for your virtues emulate)  
Pity my heart by you inflamed;  
For cruelty be not defamed:  
Nor joy to see my miseries rage,  
Which your tongue only can assuage;  
But a true service entertain,  
Rewarding it with love again.    

14. Before a little Book of my own that I sent her.  

Lady, I do not give this Book alone,  
But with't my heart, which you have made your own:  
Censure my verses as you please; but be  
Kind to my heart, lest you do ruin me.  
I made these little Poems, and (if you  
Vouchsafe your love to me) you make me too.  
Be kind as you are fair, I wish no other;  
So make a doubtful man an happy Lover.    

15.  

Be kind (blind Boy) and let not her alone;  
'tis tyranny in thee to shoot at one.  
Me thou hast wounded, she untouched remains;  
Slights all my Sighs, and credits not my pains.  
If the hast an Arrow (though but one) behind  
Strike her, and make us both be of one mind.  
Thou God of Love born in an happy hour  
In some fresh Garden in some flowery Bower,  
I, by thy wings filled with the sighs of thy  
Fast-●erter'd Subjects, by thy Quiver, and by  
Thy fatal Bow, by Venus drawn along  
Olympus Star-paved Courts (the Gods among)  
If thou dost ever hope eternal Jove  
Will eyes vouchsafe unto the God of Love;  
By these and more I do beseech thine aid,  
Or make me mine, or mine, this Angel-Maide.  
Pity my misery, and take my part;  
Or heal my wound, or wound her cruel heart.  
Fair Love! Sole Centre of my thoughts! to you  
I am a Suppliant, be my Judge and true;  
Censure my pass●ons, prayers, affections, me  
Throughly and narrowly, and (if you see  
No fault in me, as you no fault shall find)  
Leave off your cruelty, and be you kind.  
Use me according to my love, if I  
Adore you not, let me unpitied die.    

16. At her going out of the Country.  

Farewell fair Saint! But when you are away  
And far remote, think of me once a day.  
When shall I see again your Amber-haire?  
Look on your stately forehead, arched fair?  
View those two Suns, your heart-bewitching eyes?  
Your Nose, and Mouth, and all your Rarities?  
Hear your sweet tongue again, whose words alone  
Would make deaf Mortals hear, if not a stone?  
Not till I come to London: Phoebus, high;  
Drive not the Sun so slowly through the sky.  
If these short days, these Winter-days will seem  
So tedious, then what should I think of them  
If they were Summer-Hours? Surely I  
Should wish (like Phaeton) thou mightst fall & die:  
For in your absence I shall take delight  
In Dreams of you t'wear out the longest Night.  
I love, and that is all that I can say;  
My vehement thoughts take all my words away.  
The more I think to write, I can the less:  
His heart is safe who can his love express.  
Know I am yours much more than I can tell,  
And say (with grief) sweetest of your Sex! Farewell.    

17. At my Return, having brought her the first days Journey.  

Farewell again, Fair Mistress of my heart;  
For you must go, and I must now depart.  
My body doth return; my heart doth stay:  
You it along with you do bear away.  
Lay it by yours, thither it would withdraw;  
The fire of mine the frost of yours may thaw.  
Farewell dear eyes: It will be tedious Night  
With me as long as I do want your light.  
Farewell sweet mouth, encompassed with a row  
Of richest Cherries over and below;  
The Nectar and Ambrosia I shall want  
That hang on them, and fast an irksome Lent.  
Farewell best tongue; Now thee I shall not hear,  
I would not care if all things silent were.  
Farewell all fair! Beauty I shall not view,  
Until again I do beholded in you.  
All things befriend you; Hiems, do not frown  
Keep Boreas still, and all his Brethren down.  
Be of a kind Aspect, and look not pale  
With frost or Snow; not sullenly let fall  
Showrs from thine eyes; Be mild, that Phoebus may  
Wait on my lovely mistress every day.  
So she may hap to favour thee; which thing  
May change the Winter to another Spring.  
My last Farewell: Till I in London see  
My Love again, I shall a mourner be.    

18.  

Hail my Delight! whom I so well loved here,  
Do now love there and will love every where.  
I hope you do not doubt my faith: For I  
Know I adore you so I daily die.  
When you was here my passion was so great,  
That I did bow and sink down under it:  
But now y'are gone my Love is so extreme,  
I am distracted: when your happy name  
I think upon, your beauty, Goodness, all  
What you include, I into madness fall;  
Rave at these days that do divide us two,  
At these slow hours that keep me from you.  
Thus I affect: would you did love me so,  
That when we meet there might not pass a No.  
Tell me how doth that richest jewel, your  
Unkindest heart against all love endure?  
Although Diana's Charms environ round,  
And circled it, to keep it from a wound;  
Yet Cupid's Dart hath greater force than those,  
And when he please can pierce it with his throws.  
And I will make such prayers to him, that he  
Shall be revenged (unto the height) for me:  
It's ears be not deaf as his eyes be blind,  
I'll make him hear me, and he'll make you kind.  
You cannot (fairest Maid) your Fate remove:  
Yield therefore not by force, but will to love.    

19  

I will not now implore a Muse, not One  
Of the inhabiters of Helicon:  
Neither Apollo, he that doth above  
Sing Sacred Anthems to eternal Jove:  
If you (sweet Mistress) will vouchsafe to be  
Gracious, and read, each line will come off free.  
Since I beheld your Beauty I've forgot  
My former pleasures, and now know them not:  
I've no Delight but you, and you are so  
Unkind to me you are my torment too.  
Unmerciful Destinies! that do unite  
A cruel torment with a sweet delight.  
But be you far more harder-hearted than  
Was ever Lady yet to any man;  
Though Daphne-like you eat, and run away;  
Like Phoebus I behind you will not stay.  
You are regardless, and will lend no ear  
Unto my vows, nor my entreaties hear:  
Deign therefore, you immortal Deities  
That reign enthroned in the lofty Skies;  
Hear, and redress my wrongs, pity my moan,  
Or make her's flesh, or mine an heart of stone;  
Or guide her tongue that thence kind words may  
Or strike me deaf, or strike my Mistress dumb: (come,  
Yet is her tongue all Music, and so rare,  
It makes me even to love my own despair.  
For Neptune's sake, whose Trident awes the Sea,  
Pale Luna shine with an auspicious ray.  
If thou dost love the bright delicious bride  
Of Mulciber, Mars be thou on my side.  
By thy winged feet, and by thy Charmed wand,  
A gracious influence, Mercury, I command.  
For Alcumena's Night, and for her Child,  
The Monster-Queller, Jupiter be mild.  
If ever thou didst love Adonis' dear,  
Now Venus favour me in thy Career.  
If thou dost hope Jove will allow thee peace  
In heaven, that did afford thee small in Greece;  
On Lovers (Saturn) gently smile, and join  
(With th'other Six) to perfect my design.  
By all Ver's various flowers, and Autumn's fruit,  
Sol, I implore thee to complete my suit.  
If me the Planets do befriend in this,  
Her Cruelty cannot withstand my bliss;  
Against the Stars there is no striving, she  
Must yield unto her Fate, which is to me;  
And (Lady) if their beams be gracious, know,  
I mean to have you whether you will or no.    

20.  

My love (Dear Soul) is grown unto that height,  
That when I cannot see you I must write:  
By my affection, now I am from you,  
You may perceive my former words were true.  
Doubt me not (Lady!) rather doubt the Sun  
(Dashed out with Ocean waves) will cease to run:  
Believe the Moon, pale Cynthia of the night,  
Will leave her Sphere, and on the earth a light;  
And th' other Planets (frighted a this change)  
Will stand still in a maze, and leave to range;  
Believe old Neptune missing of his Dear,  
Will be dulled into calmness out of fear;  
Suppose the earth wanting the Light Divine  
That nourished it, will never more be green;  
Believe the earth agreeing yet with Heaven,  
Into another Chaos will be driven;  
Imagine what you will, true or untrue;  
But never think I can be false to you.  
Know that if you affection will return,  
That now Im'warm, and will hereafter burn;  
That now I kerb my passions; but will then  
Give way unto them, love, and love again.  
We'll not be parted, be not you ingrate,  
By Lands, or Seas, by friends or foes, or fate.    

21.  

Dear Saint, I do love you so well,  
You cannot think, nor I can tell.  
As when from earth some look on high,  
And see the Lights that grace the sky,  
They think them small, because they seem  
Not unto them to be extreme;  
So you perchance when you do read  
My Love dressed in so poor a weed  
As my weak Muse can frame, will strait  
Or think it counterfeit, or light:  
But could my hand express my mind,  
You would no longer be unkind;  
For 'tis so full of love to you,  
You cannot think, nor I can show.    

22.  

May you (fair Sweet) live long and happily:  
But do not you live so that I must die.  
Be kind; for if you chance to frown I fall:  
Your No is equal to the Fates sad Call.  
A curious Limner dares profess a Strife  
With Nature, thinks with art to match the life:  
O that my pen could draw my heart, and you  
Be won (by certainties) to know me true!  
How many thousand prayers would you read over!  
How many vows professed by your Lover!  
What a poor martyr you would see! An heart,  
Dying in flames because you care not fort!  
●hall I believe you always will remain  
●o careless of me, and so slight my pain?  
●'le not despair; when you least think to be  
Kind unto me, the Gods may pity me;  
Make you with me in an affection join  
And mollify your heart as much as mine,  
To sacred Hymen their high wills reveal,  
And make him sign our Loves with his broad seal▪  
Nor will I wish (if you do slight me ever)  
That you may love, and may be pitied never;  
Far be it from me: only that you may  
Sigh once, weep one tear, and wear black one day▪  
But I will hope you may be kind, and (though  
Y'are strange so long) not always use me so.  
Pity your Servant; if I do not prove  
Worthy of your love, then withdraw your love.    

23. To her resolved to go beyond Sea.  

Unkind, fair Mistress! are not frowns and noah's  
Enough, to fill your Servant full of woes?  
Can you not be cruel enough, unless  
You leave this Kingdom, and do pass the Seas?  
Like unto Caesar would you have me fall  
With many wounds, and triumph over all?  
Though, when y'are gone my fate is sad, I will  
Wish you all good though you wish me all ill.  
May Neptune proud of such a burden, smooth  
His old and angry Face, and fall in love;  
May not an adverse wind as much as breath;  
That you may smile upon the Seas beneath.  
Were I not wondrous true, instead of prayers  
I should use imprecations, curse the stars,  
Wish Neptune with his powerful Trident throw  
The waters from the Centre, and below  
In that Abyss sink down your Ship, and then  
The raging winds blow back the Seas again  
And cover you, that women henceforth may  
Beware, and earnest love with earnest pay.  
But I am patient, and (though in vain  
I love) I dare not therefore be profane.  
May you arrive safely and soon, and live  
In all felicity whilst I here grieve,  
And sigh, and weep for you; may not a thought  
Of yours remember me, (be I forgot)  
Lest when you think how you have left me, you  
Should give a stop unto your mirth, and rue.  
But one word more; it is not yet too late  
To make a wretched Lover fortunate:  
Let not my prayers, sighs, vows be spent in vain,  
But as I do love you, so love again;  
And we will go together, never part,  
Till I your body have who have my heart;  
Which had I in possession, I should find  
Ways soon enough to win your backward mind.    

24.  

Although she cannot number thousands, even  
With some deformed, whom Fortune more hath given;  
Shall want of wealth (scorned by true happiness)  
Resist my way, or make me love her less?  
Yet hath she a fair Portion, and her Name  
From one of our best Houses, Coritane;  
And she is beauteous as a cheerful day,  
Or Venus rising from her Mother-Sea.  
Are not her teeth the richest Pearls? and sure  
He that hath Pearls enough cannot be poor;  
Are not her radiant eyes two diamonds fair?  
And we all know that those stones precious are;  
Art not her hairs of Gold? And what but it (fit?  
Makes wrinkles smooth; Age, youth; unfit things,  
Her beauteous Cheeks are Roses, such as neither  
The Spring can give, nor the cold Winter wither.  
Her lovely Breasts are Apples of more worth  
Than ever the Hesperides brought forth;  
Arabian Odours, both the India's Good  
She in one curious body doth include;  
Cupid in nothing more his eyes doth miss,  
Then that he cannot see how fair she is.  
Jupiter for her would unthrone his Queen,  
And Pluto leave his lovely Proserpina;  
Neptune from Amphitrite would remove,  
And Mars for her forsake the Queen of love.  
She's like a Soul before it doth depart;  
Even all in all, and All in every part.  
No man hath seen her, but to every Sense  
Of him she bettereth the intelligence;  
He knows his eyes are perfect in their sight,  
That in no other Object can delight;  
He knows his smelling's exquisite that doth  
When he hath felt her breath all others loath;  
A perfume for the Gods most fit, and sweet  
When they (at Counsel) on Olympus meet,  
And Iris they or Mercury beneath  
'tis likely send for her so fragrant breath:  
A free and unconfined touching her  
Above the lips of Queens all would prefer,  
Or sacred hands of bounteous Kings; compared  
The precious Down of Phoenix's being hard  
Unto her softer skin: And her sweet Tongue  
Which chides in Music, and enchants in song,  
And strikes the ablest Rhetoricians dumb,  
Is fittest to plead the peace of Christendom;  
He in the sphere of happiness will move  
On whom she pleases to bestow her love,  
And have the most delicious Repast  
That shall her Hymenaean Dainties taste.  
You that are beauty in the Zenith, who  
Can find no Equal wheresoe'er you go,  
My Love no longer cruelly despise,  
But dart me mercy from your gracious eyes,  
And we shall both be rich: For I am sure,  
Themselves no happy Lovers ere thought poor.    

25. To her obtained.  

Past are my sighs, and woes, complaints, and tears,  
Nor am I longer subject to my fears;  
Her frowns no more strike terror to my soul,  
Though I was wounded she hath made me whole.  
Within the rank of happy Lovers I  
Am now enrolled, and march triumphantly  
o'er all the Crosses that before did stay,  
And hinder me to enter in this way,  
And sing the Boy-Gods praise, who (wanting sight)  
Shot at my Mistress and did hit the White.  
My happiness is such, that Times to come  
Shall not complain I of my joys was dumb.  
Let him whose Mistress is deformed or old,  
Not worth a Sonnet nor a Line, withhold:  
Or (if on such an heap of years, or sad  
Chaos of features, he will needs run mad;  
Lose the true judgement of his eyes, or think  
That Channel water's Nectar he doth drink)  
Let him profess he's happy ne'er so much,  
The World that sees her cannot think him such.  
'Twere fondness in me, that what ere my youth  
Writ in her praise I now should say was truth;  
I would not if I could: but to be just  
To her, and to myself, thus much I must.  
I'm so far from repenting of my choice,  
That every day she's dearer in mine eyes.  
Dear heart! and dearer to me then mine heart!  
We'll live in love, and in our loves depart.  
The World shall bless our Fates, and they that come  
Into sad bonds, wish happy Lovers dumb▪     

Funeral Elegies.  

1. On the Death of my very good Friend Mr. Micha●l Drayton.  

PHoebus, art thou a God, and canst not give  
A Privilege unto thine own to live?  
Thou canst: But if that Poets ne'er should die,  
In Heaven who should praise thy Deity?  
Else ●ill (my Drayton) thou hadst lived and writ;  
Thy life had been immortal as thy wit.  
But Spencer is grown hoarse, he that of late  
Song Glorian● in her Elfin state:  
And so is Sidney, whom we yet admire  
Lighting our little Torches at his fire.  
These have so long before Apollo's Throne  
Carreled Encomiums▪ that they now are grown  
Weary and faint; and therefore thou didst die,  
Their sweet unfinished Ditty to supply▪  
So was the Iliad-writer rapt away;  
Before his loved Achilles fatal day,  
And when his voice began to fail, the great  
〈…〉 did assume his seat:  
Therefore we must not mourn, unless it be  
〈◊〉 none is left worthy to follow thee.  
It is in vain to say thy lines are such  
As neither time not envies rage can touch:  
For they must live, and will whiles there's an eye  
To read, or wit to judge of Poetry▪  
You Swans of Avon, change your fates, and all  
Sing, and then die at Drayton's Funeral:  
Sure shortly there will not a drop be seen,  
And the smooth-pebbled Bottom be turned green,  
When the Nymphs (that inhabit in it) have  
(As they did Shakespeere) wept thee to thy grave.  
But I molest thy quiet; sleep, whilst we  
That live, would leave our lives to die like thee.    

2. On my dear Sister Mrs. Isabel Cokaine, who who died at Ashbourne about the 18th year of her Age, and lies there buried.  

IT is an irreligious pride to turn  
Away our eyes, and not to see thine Urn.  
For sure that body whose blessed soul doth keep  
A Jubilee in heaven, (while here asleep  
It lies in holy earth) is every day  
Blessed by good Angels, that do pass that way:  
And therefore we with reverence should eye  
The Sepulchers where Saints entombed do lie:  
And every time that we do go or come  
Nigh where thine Ashes lie, behold thy Tomb▪  
But when we see it, should we weep our eyes  
Dry of their tears, and then conclude in cries?  
It is impossible that our complaints  
Should make a Diapason to the Saints.  
●an Hallelujahs sung above agree  
With tears on earth? 'tis an Antipathy▪  
But 'tis unnatural we should be glad,  
And 'tis Impiety we should be sad:  
We must not grieve therefore, nor yet rejoice;  
But fix us in the mean, and show us wise.  
Be glad, that we believe her soul is crowned  
With endless Glory in Heavens ample Round:  
Only lament that we have lost our guide,  
And (wanting her) are apt to wander wide▪  
We need not bid thee sleep secure, that know  
That God himself rocked thee asleep below.  
Sweet Sainted Maid, thou meritest the Pen  
Of Cherubims to show thee unto men:  
And dost deserve a bench of Poets grave  
To study, and to write thine Epitaph,  
Which in Mosaic work with diamonds bright  
Should be drawn out, and read by its own light▪  
A Titian, or a Bonarota should  
Cast thee a Statue of pure Ophir Gold:  
Hadst thou thy due, the eager earth would sure  
Anatomize one India for Ore  
And precious stones, a Pyramid to rear,  
Lasting and great as the Egyptian were,  
To thy eternal memory; and from  
Th' e eastern-lands bring all the plenteous sum  
Of spices and perfumes, and on the height  
Of that rich monument burn them day and night▪  
But 'tis a thing impossibly too hard  
For men on earth to give thee thy reward:  
Thy God, whose power and love is infinite,  
Thee hath, and doth, and ever will requite  
Among the Chorus of Heavens Virgins pure,  
To sing Divinest Anthems evermore.  
The homely verses I have writ, she oft  
Hath smiled upon, approved them smooth and soft:  
And if my pen hath power to give a fame,  
Dear Isabel, here shall live thy Name.  
Had I the deathless Homer's brain, and could  
Sing lofty numbers like to Maro Old;  
A wit to match Sulmonean Ovid, I  
Had writ a Poem, not an Elegy.  
▪ 'tis known, and I confess this is beneath  
Her Life, and her expressions at her death:  
Her resurrection plain will show how well  
She led her life, and bad the World Farewell.    

3. On the death of Henry Lord Hastings, Son to the right Honourable Ferdinand Earl of Huntingdon, etc.  

KNow all to whom these few sad lines shall come,  
This melancholy Epicedium,  
The young Lord Hastings death occasioned it,  
Amidst a ●●orm of Lamentations writ;  
Tempests of sighs and groans, and flowing eyes  
Whose yielding balls dissolve to Deluges:  
And mournful Numbers that with dreadful sound  
Wait his bemoaned body to the ground,  
Are all, and the last duties we can pay  
The Noble Spirit that is fled away.  
'tis gone, alas! 'tis gone, though it did leave  
A body rich in all Nature could give;  
Superior in beauty to the youth  
That won the Spartan Queen to forfeit truth,  
Break wedlock's strictest bonds, and be his wife;  
Environed with tumults all her Life.  
His years were in the balmy Spring of Age  
Adorned with blossoms ripe for marriage,  
And but mature; His sweet conditions known  
To be so good they could be none but's own.  
Our English Nation was enamoured more  
On his full worth, than Rome was heretofore  
Of great V●●pa●●an's Jew-subduing Heir,  
The love and the Delight of mankind here.  
After a large survey of Histories,  
Our Critics (curious in honour, wise  
In paralleling generous Souls) will find  
This youthful Lord did bear as brave a mind.  
His few but well spent years had mastered all  
The liberal Arts: And his sweet tongue could fall  
Into the ancient Dialects, dispense  
Sacred Judeas' amplest eloquence;  
The La●ine Idiom elegantly true;  
And Greek as rich as Athens ever knew:  
Italy, France, and Spain, did all confess  
Him perfect in their modern Languages,  
At his Nativity, what angry Star  
Malignant influences slung so far?  
What Caput Algolls, and what dire Aspects,  
Occasioned so tragical effects?  
As soon as death this fatal blow had given,  
I fancy mighty Clarence sighed in Heaven;  
And till this glorious Soul arrived there,  
Recovered not from his Amaze and fear.  
Had this befallen in ancient credulous times,  
He had been deified by Poet's rhymes;  
That Age enamoured of his Graces, soon  
Majestic Fanes (in adoration)  
Would have raised to his memory, and there  
On golden Altars (year succeeding year)  
Burnt holy incense, and Sabaean Gums,  
That Curls of vapour from those Hecatombs,  
Sold reach his Soul in Heaven: but we must pay  
No such Oblations in our purer way:  
A nobler Service we him owe then that,  
His fair example ever t'emulate.  
With the Advantage of our double years  
Le's imitate him, and (through all Affairs,  
And all Encounters of our Lives) intent  
To live like him, and make as good an end.  
To aim at brave things is an evident sign  
In Spirits, that to honour they incline;  
And though they do come short in the Contest,  
'tis full of glory to have done one's best.  
You mournful Parents whom the Fates compel  
To bear the Loss of this great miracle,  
This wonder of our Times, amidst a sigh  
(Surrounded with your thick'st Calamity)  
Reflect on joy, think what an happiness  
(Though humane Nature oft conceits it less)  
It was to have a Son of so much worth,  
He was too good to grace the wretched earth.  
As silver Trent through our North Countries glides,  
Adorned with Swans, & crowned with flowery sides,  
And rushing into mightier Humber's Waves,  
Augments the Regal Aestuarium's Braves:  
So he, after a life of eighteen years  
Well managed Example to our Peers,  
In's early youth encountering sullen Fate,  
(O'ercome) became a Trophy to his State.  
Didst thou sleep Hymen? or art lately grown  
T'affect the Subterranean Region?  
Enamoured on bleared Libentina's eyes,  
Hoarse-howling Dirges, and the baleful Cries  
Of Inauspicious voices, and (above  
Thy Starlike torch) with horrid tombs in love?  
Thou art; or surely hadst opposed this high  
Affront of death against thy Deity:  
Nor wronged an excellent Virgin who had given  
Her heart to him, who hath his Soul to Heaven;  
Whose Beauties thou hast clouded, and whose eyes  
Drowned in tears at these sad Exequys.  
The famed Heroes of the golden Age,  
Those Demigods whose virtues did assuage  
And calm the furies of the wildest minds  
That were grown savage even against their kinds,  
Might from their Constellations have looked down  
And by this young Lord seen themselves outgone.  
Farewell (Admired Spirit) that art free  
From this strict Prison of Mortality.  
Ashby, proud of the honour to enshrine  
The beauteous Body (whence the Soul Divine  
Did lately part) be careful of thy trust,  
That no profane hand wrong that hallowed Dust.  
The Costly Marble needs no friend t'engrave  
Upon it any doleful Epitaph;  
No good Man's tongue that Office will decline,  
Whilst years succeeding reach the end of time.    

4. On the death of my dear Cousin German Mrs. Olive Cotton, who deceased at Berisford the 38th year of her Age, and lies buried at Bently by Ashbourne, etc.  

AMongst the many that shall celebrate  
(With sighs and tears) this excellent woman's Fate;  
And with the many that shall fix a verse  
(Sacred unto her Fame) upon her Hearse;  
World! pardon me my boldness, that intrude  
These few poor lines upon thy Multitude:  
They need not read them, I have my desire  
If they but see my name, and look no higher:  
But with my Sadness thou may'st well dispense  
A tribute due to her Departure hence;  
For from my soul I honoured her, and grieve  
That I've but such small means to win belief.  
Others may aim with a victorious Rhyme  
To vindicate her from the rage of time;  
Our ablest Poets, whose each Distich may  
Both Brass and Marble Statues wear away,  
Last till the noble Soul again shall come  
And take possession of her ancient Room▪  
Converting all their Funeral Elegies  
(By that Reunion) t' Epithalamies;  
And so by solemnising her just worth,  
Acquire themselves an endless Name on earth▪  
I no Ambition have but to make known  
Her merits, were my Admiration.  
Her Conversation harmless was and free,  
For neither Pride nor ill Discourse had she:  
Her sweet Conditions all the virtues were,  
Not studied, but habitual in her:  
And (ere the fatal Fever had begun  
T'disturb her calm Soul's Habitation)  
The beauteous body was a Palace fit  
(Above all other) t'entertain in it  
So Sublime, and so many virtues, such  
As made old Saints and martyrs praised so much.  
But she is gone, and we are left behind  
To mourn the want of worth in Womankind▪  
For female virtues (as our fears surmise)  
Are all with her returned to Paradise.  
And there (best Cousin) may your welcome b●  
A Crown of Glory and Immortality.    

5. A funeral Elegy on my Dear Cousin Mistress Elizabeth Reppington, who deceased at Ammington about the eighteenth year of her age, and lies buried at Tamworth.  

THe Contemplation of death to prize  
Above all thoughts of humane vanities  
A Sublime wisdom is, and makes Amends  
For such sad Contemplations at our Ends.  
Stifle therefore (my Muse) at their first birth  
All thoughts that may reflect upon the earth:  
Be meraphysical, disdaining to  
Fix upon any thing that is below.  
Fame set thy Trump unto thy lips, and sound  
The world this sad newsfrom her hallowed ground;  
Elizabeth Reppington, that glorious Maid,  
Hath left to guide us in this mortal shade  
By her unparallelled example; she  
Hath changed all Finite for Infinity.  
Her Grave all beauty doth include, for there  
Two Suns eclipsed lie in one Hemisphere,  
Enveloped with Clouds, thicker than those  
Which the remotest Arctic doth impose.  
Her humble Lovers, that like Persians paid  
Devotion to the Beams of her fair Head,  
(Whose hair their eyes in wonder did contain)  
Continue to wish that Golden Fleece in vain:  
Flowers more rich than graced Eden ever,  
Lilies and Roses there to dust do wither▪  
Oracles too are ceased again, they from  
The temple of her mouth had used to come.  
A lurid paleness sits upon the skin  
That did enclose the beauteous body in:  
As after a bright day Night do●h succeed,  
And cloth high Heaven in a most horrid weed▪  
Her hands a Consort were of music, such  
As skilfully bes● Instruments did touch,  
Begetting harmony to emulate  
What the Intelligencing Spirits create  
By motion of the Spheres; yet now they lie  
Uselessly here through death's Impiety.  
You that shall chance to read in these poor rhimes  
This Virgin's Fate, whose life did grace our times,  
Whose Death this Nation justly may lament,  
She being of it the prime Ornament;  
And many virtues must a pattern prove  
To all those generous Souls that virtue love:  
Consider what a loss her Parents have  
Whose Hopes are fallen with her into the Grave;  
(Her Graces grown to an unequalled height)  
Lying now sleeping in the longest night.  
Yet any Soul but hers would have been glad  
So fair and pure Confinement to have had:  
But more illustrious hers, like a bright flame  
Broke loose, and is returned from whence it came▪  
Where she enjoys all joys, smiles on our tears,  
Wishing that ours as happy were as hers:  
And her sweet Company and Conversation  
We are deprived of, but by Contemplation▪  
The maids that do in flowing Anchors streams  
Conceal themselves from busy Phoebus' beams,  
(Upon whose Banks she used to walk, and smile  
On the slow waters that past by the while)  
Her immature Disease cease not to moon  
Under each Willow, and on every stone.  
The woods of Amington, which oft times she  
Graced with her Presence to hear harmony  
From the Innocuous Choristers of the Air,  
Now murmur for her loss in sad despair;  
The Dryads that there had wont to play,  
Spending in weeping for her every day.  
The Graces, that used thither to retire  
To dance unto skilful Apollo's Lyre,  
As often since as they that way do come,  
Sat down, and sing an Epicedium.  
Thus I could prosecute; but being grown  
Dull with so long a Lamentation,  
My hand so trembling it can only blot,  
And Eyes so fraught with tears that they see not;  
I leave the World (though sorrow struck it faint)  
To mourn her Loss, and make up my complaint.    

6. A Funeral Elegy upon the Death of Mr. Thomas Pilkington, one of the Queen's Musicians, Who deceased at Wolverhampton about the 35. year of his Age, and lies there buried.  

AT the Report of so sad News sure soon  
The grieved Nation will be out of tune▪  
For Pilkington is dead, who did command  
All Instruments with his unequalled hand:  
Mastering all Music that was known before;  
He did invent the Orphion, and gave more.  
Though he (by playing) had acquired high Fame,  
He evermore escaped a Gamesters Name:  
Yet he at Gamut frequent was, and taught  
Many to play, till Death set his Gam out.  
He was facetious, and did never carp,  
Making that Music which came from him sharp▪  
His Flats were all Harmonious; not like theirs  
Whose ebbs in prose or verse abuse our ears:  
But to what end praise I his Flats, since that  
He is grown One himself, and now lies Flat?  
Others for Days misspent are charged with crime▪  
But he a strict observer was of time.  
Nothing escaped his Study (by all votes)  
Being most perfect of mankind at Notes.  
Though he was often in his Moods, they were  
Such as rejoiced all minds, and pleased each ear▪  
The Muses two-clifed Hill he did surpass;  
Whose Music had three Cliffs to do it Grace▪  
With rashness none his Credit could impair,  
Who did observe his Stops with so much Care▪  
His Frets were gentle Ones, such as would be  
Stopped with a Finger, and make Harmony▪  
His Family agree so in their Hearts,  
That they did make a Consort of five Parts;  
(To be a Pattern unto every one)  
Himself, his Wife, two Daughters, and a Son:  
Though sometimes there might some Division run,  
'twas for the best in the Conclusion;  
For each learned Master in this Science knows  
Good Music often hath from Discords rose.  
A Large his generous heart was and a Long;  
His Life was wished by all the happy Throng  
Acquainted with his worths: But (in the chiefe  
Of all his Days) Death made it be a Brief.  
Crotchets he had good store, yet such as were  
Harmonious, full of Spirit, life, and air.  
His Life was but a Minum, till his prime▪  
When as old Age should last out Sembrief-time;  
His proved over short, as if indeed  
He were, Alas! to die by Quaver-speed.  
Whose Loss our trembling Heart such wise lament,  
As they like Semi, and Demi-Quavers went.  
So he is gone (as Heaven hath thought i● best)  
And (after all his pains) hath made a Rest.  
Music's best Instrument his body made,  
Wherein his soul upon the Organs played:  
But Death was likewise Sacrilegious grown,  
Who rudely hath those Organs overthrown.  
For other Exequys what need we call?  
Play o'er his Hearse his own famed Funeral;  
The doleful Air that he composed, to mourn  
For beauteous Reppingtons' untimely Urn.  
What need more words, when no words can declare  
The Merits of a Man so wondrous rare?  
He was too excellent for earth: And's gone,  
To be in Heaven a prime Musician.     

Letters to divers Persons.  

1. To the Right Honourable John Lord Mohun Baron of Okehampton, my Uncle in Law▪  

MY Lord, unto you now I have not writ  
For Ostentation, or to boast my wit,  
I know it weak; this only is to show  
How willingly I'd pay the debt I owe;  
Which though I cannot, I should be most rude  
To let my Silence prove Ingratitude.  
I must write therefore, though when I have done  
I rest in silent Admiration.  
Be you but pleased to read, although 'tis true  
I cannot draw a line deserveth you:  
So gracious Kings will give their Subjects leave  
To gratulate the Blessings they receive.  
Let our most able Poets, such as can  
Feign virtues for a well deserving Man,  
Express with th'eloquence of all the Arts,  
Half one of your Innumerable Parts:  
I can but only wonder and profess  
I know so little that I cannot guests.  
It were an easier matter to declare  
The heights and depths that in each Science are:  
All Labyrinths that Dialect affords,  
And (Critick-like) which are the hardest words.  
Of you a Character would be a task  
Maeonides and Maro would not ask,  
If for preeminence they were to write;  
It is so weighty, and their skill so slight.  
The fluent Singer of the Changes would  
In imploration for Aide grow old:  
And yet they were the Miracles of Wit,  
Through all Times famous, and renowned yet;  
Honoured by Grandees of the world, and by  
The Supreme beauty of sweet Italy.  
Witness the conquering Macedonian Prince,  
Who wept for envy Homer's eloquence,  
And mighty Poesy raised to the Stars  
Achilles' Fame; and thundered not his wars:  
And great Augustus who could easily slight  
All other things, t'admire rich Virgil's height.  
Witness bright Julia too, who far above  
The Roman Princes all did Ovid love.  
Happy was Orpheus that in former times  
(To admiration) did rehearse his rhimes:  
So was Amphion too, that long ago  
His matchless skill in poetry did show.  
Had they been your Contemporaries, they  
(Whom all men did, and Savages obey,  
And rocks and trees) with all their study ne'er  
Could pen one line worth your attentive ear▪  
Haddit great Aeacides your worths, he so  
Had not effected Hector's Overthrow:  
He had been slain fairly or lived; for great  
And worthy minds unworthy Actions hate▪  
Ajax was only honoured in the field;  
Would you had pleaded for him, for the shield,  
The Ithacan disgraced away had gone,  
And the blunt Soldier put the trophy on.  
Comparisons are odious; I disgrace  
You, to look on you by another's face.  
You Heaven-bred souls whom Phoebus doth inspire  
From high Olympus with Poetic fire,  
Bewail no more these ignorant wretched days;  
This singular Lord will not withhold the Bays.  
You Sisters that frequent the Thespian Spring,  
And on Parnassus Io Paeans sing,  
He hath been, and is now a Patron to you,  
And in his own immortal Lay doth woe you.  
Proceed my Lord, and let it be your Glory  
No Chronicler dares put you in his Story:  
For if your virtue's verse cannot express,  
I must believe that heavy Prose much less.  
Again proceed, and let this move you to it;  
Of your own worths you must be your own Poet:  
Or let your virtue's rule Amazements throne,  
To be expressed by no Muse but your own:  
And (lest from your own goodness you decline)  
Pardon each fault that is in every line.    

2. To my friend and Kinsman Mr. George Giffard, who called his Mistress the Green Bird of France.  

THe Necromancy of your love doth change  
Your Mistress to a Bird, so to ' estrange  
Her name from vulgar ears, and to conceal  
Those harmless passages of love you steal:  
And by this means be your heart what it will,  
Your tongue's Platonic that can keep this still.  
But sure your judgement and most curious eyes  
Fancy no bird, but that of Paradise,  
The Phoenix, or a third of mighty worth;  
A wonder and a Glory to the earth.  
Jove's Eagles' too aspiring to invite  
Your mind to love, or love to appetite▪  
The Doves of Venus you too gentle know;  
And yours must give you cause to court and wo.  
Minerva's Owl is only for the Night;  
And your fair Mistress doth become the light:  
Saturnia's Peacock hath a gaudy train,  
But feet too course such Colours to sustain:  
Your Bird so curious is, she would disperse  
The Clouds of prose, and make it run in verse.  
She's not derived from Magellanick Streights,  
Where the most numerous Parat-Covey delights:  
But from a richer Soil, and may perchance  
The Dolphin wake, to court the Bird of France:  
But Caesar's self might conquer Gaul anew,  
And with his victories not trouble you.  
Your fair green Bird of France doth know her power  
Superior to the roughest Conqueror;  
Whilst she resists no fort so strong as she,  
Whose victor must her own consenting be.  
Nor martial engine, sword, or piece can move  
Her from your love while she will be your love.  
But if her Resolution alter, than  
Her how to you will you retrieve again?  
Like the mad lover make your heart the sure,  
And that will bring her, or she'll come no more.  
Had Hymen lighted his auspicious Pine,  
And you joined happy hands before his shrine,  
Then would not you and your admired love  
The Changes imitate of amorous Jove,  
Who like a Swan fair Leda did compress,  
And on her got the Twins Tyndarides?  
But why since Birds are of all colours seen,  
Do you call her you most affect the Green?  
The Firmament we see attired in blue,  
But that too heavenly a Colour is for you.  
The earth is green; and you do think most fit  
That she be so, while she doth live on it.  
The Sea is green, and Sea-born Venus was  
Made beauties Goddess being most beauteous Lass!  
And your fair One, whom you think Parallel  
To her, you call the Green-Bird wondrous well.  
All health I wish her, from each sickness free  
But one, whose cure I do commit to thee:  
If the Green Sickness she doth chance to get,  
Your Love and Care of her may remed▪ it.    

3. To the right honourable Ferdinand Earl of Huntingdon, etc.  

MY Lord, I have not silent been so long  
For want of zeal, but feared to do you wrong:  
Could I but draw a line deserved your eyes,  
Your name should from the earth touch at the skies.  
But as the meanest Peasants came before  
The greatest Caesars Rome did ere adore;  
And as the gracious Gods no more despise  
The poorest than the richest Sacrifice;  
So I (my Lord) present myself to you,  
And this slight humble verse unto your view.  
Let our best Heralds, such as are most good,  
Sail up the mighty Current of your blood,  
And from the ancient and most glorious Stem  
Of those that wore the English Diadem,  
Blazon your pedigree, whilst I admire  
Your fair Conditions, sparks of honour's fire.  
To be born only great, and not to be  
Virtuous too, is, as we often see  
The morning Sun rise clearly in the East,  
Presently after be with Clouds oppressed,  
And (after one fair cheerful blaze of light)  
The day prove stormy till it mix with night.  
But this concerns not you; you are as far  
From all unworthiness, as is that star  
That by the virtue of the Southern stays  
This Mass of earth, and water in its place  
From earth: And as those opposite Stars do poise  
This Globe of earth, and Water midst the skies  
Equally distant, in all places, from  
The Heavens that round it in Circumference come.  
Or to descend; As Mahomet's tomb doth fix  
By virtue of two Lodestones them betwixt;  
So you (my Lord) for sweet Conditions known  
Parallels to your high birth, stand alone  
Unaimed, and unarrived at, (to their ends)  
Th' Amaze of all▪ and honour of your friends.  
Accept this graciously my Lord! And know  
'Tis but a Glimpse of the respect I owe,  
And but an Atom of the Service; For  
Whole volumes would not be a Character.    

4. To a Lady that was so like another that I called her Picture.  

I Call you Picture, and by your Consent;  
Although I know you want no Ornament,  
Nor any curious Arts use, to supply  
Any defect in you to any eye.  
You than are none, and do want Colours so (snow;  
As heaven wants clouds▪ or Summer earth wants  
Both which do both deform; And you therefore  
To outvie heaven and earth admit no more.  
You than no picture are, but unto those  
That can become enamoured on your clothes.  
Vandike, Mitten, Geltrop▪ or Johnson may  
Draw something like you; As a Summer's day  
May in the fleeting Clouds well counterfeit  
Similitudes of things here, and not hit;  
For 'tis impossible to Limn you right,  
As 'tis the earthly Globe without a night.  
To make your eyes were to amaze us all;  
Make in your face two Suns rise; And to veil  
Their glorious motions, no eclipses there  
Can be more beautiful than your brown hair;  
So doth the brightest star ofttimes repine  
At its own glory, and forbear to shine.  
To name Apelles▪ and to wish him draw  
Your Portraiture, could he perform't 'twere law  
To future Limners; but your beauty's height  
All imitation doth transcend outright.  
Your Lips are like the rosy buds of May;  
And your even teeth the pearls of India;  
Your mouth's the sweetest Magazine of bliss,  
Where Cupid's Dialect best spoken is.  
Your loveliest Cheeks are the truest Hemispheres  
Of beauty, triumphing above your Peers.  
This your first sitting is; when you sit next,  
I shall be better pleased, and you more vexed;  
For I shall more admire your beauty's store,  
Though you be angry theyare so slubbered o'er.    

5. To my Mistress.  

TO love you (Lady) is but just; we know  
We have good eyes and Judgements that do so.  
Your beauties are no Common Ornaments,  
But Rarities, and placed (with excellence)  
By Nature's curious hand; That could entice  
Even Jove from all his Glories, and the Skies;  
Make him reject his full triumphant way  
O'er Gods and men, and thunder cast away;  
Depose himself from high Olympus, leave  
Amazed the heavenly Deities, and beneath  
Retire himself on earth to gaze on you,  
More wonderful than all the Goddess Crew;  
Make him forsake his stately Queens embrace,  
Wise Pallas eyes, and amorous Venus' Face,  
His draughts of Nectar filled by Ganymed,  
And the sweet Lessons by Apollo played;  
His sister Juno had not been his Queen,  
If you the ●●atelie● beauty he had seen.  
His daughter Venus had not been enstaled  
Goddess of love, but you the Goddess called:  
Nor had Minerva (with the fair grey eyes)  
Been crowned for wisdom 'bove the Deities,  
Had Jove heard your discourse; your words do fall  
With such a ravishing force upon us all.  
Immortal Phoebus that with glorious beams  
All Nations lights, and gilds all Ocean streams;  
In all his Progress yet did never view  
A beauty so supreme, and bright as you.  
Had Phaeton lived till now, and skilful been,  
He would have given his Chariot unto him,  
Left the Star-chequered Court, and (from the skies)  
A light on earth in some unused disguise,  
To court your smiles, more precious than his throne,  
And all the glories that attend thereon;  
And (in your company) swear by a kiss  
He never was before in any bliss.  
Your eyes are not the Sun and Moon; for they  
Are equal lights, and both do rule by day:  
Your Nose is such as doth become your face  
Better, than the best other in that place.  
Your mouth exceeds the breaking of the day;  
For that is sweet when Night drives light away.  
Your teeth surpass the milky way in Heaven,  
More white than it, more wonderful, more even.  
Your lips are smooth as Crystal, red as is  
Pure abstract redness, blessedness to kiss.  
Your bosom's a new paradise of joy,  
And undiscovered to the vulgar eye.  
Your hidden beauties do as much excel  
All, all Art can invent, and all tongues tell;  
As doth your body (magazine of joys)  
Exceed your clothes seen only by our eyes.  
But were this all, you only did present  
A curious Outside, picture, Ornament:  
Your mind (brave Lady) is a thing above  
All Objects yet of all the past world's Love:  
It is so gentle, sweet, and unconfined  
In goodness, that it makes the body, mind:  
Like the Philosopher's Stone that mixing with  
Worse metals, doth to them gold-substance give.  
Let them therefore that do not wonder, when  
They have seen you, be counted beasts not men.    

6. To the Lady M.  

BEst of your Sex, and handsomest to boot,  
I here present you with no marriage-suit;  
My Fate is fixed, and I contented am,  
Although sometimes I court another flame.  
I dare not wish a wrong to your desert;  
(Far be such thoughts for ever from my heart)  
Yet must not be so cruel to myself,  
As not from you to covet such a wealth,  
Arabia's rich perfumes are nothing to,  
Nor all the Spices all the East can show.  
Sure my desire can be no Crime in me,  
Nor your Consent can your dishonour be:  
Else all the ancient Poets did devise  
To cheat the modern with most Stygian lies.  
Wherefore should Jove neglect Saturnia's Love,  
And all his endless happiness above?  
Assume so many various Shapes t'enjoy  
With humane beauty's sensuality?  
And glorious Phoebus cast his Rays away,  
With our fine Lasses here below to play?  
Although grim Pluto the Infernal flames  
Endures; his rage Proserpin's beauty tames.  
Cynthia, whose chastity each Grecian pen,  
And Roman wit, renowned left to men,  
Victorious Love in triumph trampled on,  
And made her wanton with Endymion.  
These high examples we may imitate;  
For Deities did nothing we should hate.  
They, whom all nations for Heroic souls,  
And virtuous Actions, above the Poles  
Have enthronised, did nought we should condemn:  
And therefore (Lovely One) let's follow them.  
Strict Hymen's rules wherefore should we obey,  
Which on themselves the Gods did never lay?  
Is it more honour to observe the lives  
Of surly Cato's then the Deities?  
Away with fear; 'Tis reason prompts you to  
What I desire, and love, me what to do:  
And therefore do not blush, unless it be  
Because so many will envy thee and me:  
Yet (Madam) know (after so much expressed)  
I honour virtue, and have writ in jest.    

7. To my Cousin Mr. Charles Cotton.  

I Wonder (Cousin) that you would permit  
So great an Injury to Fletcher's wit,  
Your friend and old Companion, that his fame  
Should be divided to another's name.  
If Beaumond had writ those Plays, it had been  
Against his merits a detracting Sin,  
Had they been attributed also to  
Fletcher. They were two wits, and friends, and who  
Robs from the one to glorify the other,  
Of these great memories is a partial Lover.  
Had Beaumond lived when this Edition came  
Forth, and beheld his ever living name  
Before Plays that he never writ, how he  
Had frowned and blushed at such Impiety?  
His own Renown no such Addition needs  
To have a Fame sprung from another's deeds.  
And my good friend Old Philip Massinger  
With Fletcher writ in some that we see there.  
But you may blame the Printers; yet you might  
Perhaps have won them to do Fletcher right,  
Would you have took the pains: For what a foul  
And unexcusable fault it is (that whole  
Volume of plays being almost every one  
After the death of Beaumond writ) that none  
Would certify them so much? I wish ●s free  
Y'had told the Printers this, as you did me.  
Surely you was to blame: A Foreign wit  
Ownes in such manner what an English writ:  
Joseph of Exeters' Heroic piece  
Of the long fatal war 'twixt Troy and Greece,  
Was Printed in Corn●lius Nepos Name,  
And robs our Countryman of much of's fame.  
'Tis true; Beaumond and Fletcher both were such  
Sublime wits, none could them admire too much;  
They were our English Polestars, and did bear  
Between them all the world of fancy clear▪  
But as two Suns when they do shine to us,  
The air is lighter, they prodigious;  
So while they lived and writ together, we  
Had Plays exceeded what we hoped to see.  
But they writ few; for youthful Beaumond soon  
By death eclipsed was at his high noon.  
Surviving Fletcher then did pen alone  
Equal to both, (pardon Comparison)  
And suffered not the Globe, and Blackfriars Stage  
T'envy the glories of a former Age.  
As we in humane bodies see that lose  
An eye, or limb, the virtue and the use  
Retreats into the other eye or limb,  
And makes it double; So I say of him:  
Fletcher was Beaumont's Heir, and did inherit  
His searching judgement, and unbounded Spirit.  
His Plays are Printed therefore as they were,  
Of Beaumond too, because his Spirit's there.    

8. To my Son Mr. Thomas Cokaine.  

YOU often have enquired where I have been  
In my years Travel; and what Cities seen  
And s●ai'd in: of the which therefore (in brief)  
I (for your satisfaction) name the chief.  
When four and twenty years, and some months more  
Of Age I was, I left our English Shore:  
And in a thousand six hundred thirty two  
Went hence, fair France and Italy to view.  
At Roy July the sixteenth we took Ship,  
And on the seventeenth did arrive at Deipe,  
Henry the fourth's secure retreat; where one  
Night having lain I road next day to Rouen;  
Thence in a Coach I did to Paris go,  
Where then I did but spend a day or two.  
Thence with the Lion's messenger went thither,  
And passed through Mont-Argis, Mollins, and Never.  
In two days thence we did to Cambray get,  
A City at the foot of Eglebet▪  
At Maurein I dined, and six days spent  
Among the Alps with high astonishment.  
There dreadful Precipice, and horrid sound  
Of water, and hills hid in Clouds I found,  
And trees above the Clouds on Mountains top,  
And houses too; a wonder to get up.  
On Mount-Sinese's top I did ride o'er,  
A smooth, and pleasant Plain, a League or more▪  
Upon the which a large Fish-pool there is,  
And one o'th' Duke of Savoy's Palaces:  
At the Plains End, a little Chapel, and  
A pretty Inn do near together stand.  
That night we did descend 'bove half the way,  
Where first we heard Italian spoke, and lay.  
Next morn we down to Susa road, full glad  
When Mount-Sinese we descended had:  
And that same night to Turin came▪ where we  
Stayed but a day the Beauties of't to see.  
There we took Coach for Milan, and (by th'way)  
A Dinners time did at Vercelli stay,  
And at Novara lay a night, and stayed  
But at great Milan one; such haste I made:  
And but at Crema one, and by the Lake  
Of stormy Garda did a dinner take.  
Through the low Suburbs of high Bergamo  
I road, and that night did to Brescia go,  
For works of Iron famed; And having passed  
Thorough Verona, by Catullus graced,  
Did at Vicenza dine, so forward went  
Through Padua, and (on the banks of Brent)  
Saw many Palaces of pleasant Site,  
And to the rich famed Venice came that night.  
Thence (having stayed there half a year) did go  
Unto Ferrara by the river Poe,  
Saving some four miles, where a Coach we took,  
When Phaeton's fatal River we forsook.  
I at Ravenna dined, Rimmini lay,  
And the next Night did at Ancona stay;  
A long days journey, wherein we betime  
Pesaro road through, did at Fano dine,  
For handsome women famed; And (in our way)  
Rid near small, well-walled Siningaglia.  
The next day at Loretto dined, and there  
Viewed the Fair Church, and House famed every where:  
Thorough long Recanati road, and so  
To Macerata in the Even did go.  
Next day I dined at Tolentin, and was  
it'h Church of their renowned Saint Nicholas.  
Foligno and Spoletto having past,  
Terin, and Narin, took a Night's repast  
Within Otricoli, I the next day  
Dined at Rignano ' i'th' Flaminian way:  
And in the Evening afterwards did come  
Thorough the Port del Popolo to Rome;  
Where what the holy week, and Easter could  
To strangers view afford, I did behold:  
Where that old City's wonders I did view,  
And all the many Marvels of the new.  
Three weeks I there made my abode, and then  
For Naples took my travels up again:  
Of all Frascati's Wonders had a sight,  
And thence unto Velletri road that night;  
At Terrachina lay the next. Then through  
The Kingdom passed at Mola, took a view  
Of Old Gaeta; thence to Capua road,  
Where only I dinners time abode.  
So I to Naples came, where three weeks stay  
Made me the wonders thereabouts survey▪  
ay at Puzzolo was, there crossed the Bay  
(Famed for the bridge of proud Caligula)  
To Baja, and that day a view did take  
Of Aniana, and Avernus Lake.  
The mortal Grott was in, and Sepulchre  
Which murdered Agrippina did inter:  
Was in Sibylla's Cave, and on the Ground  
Called Vulcan's Forge, yielding an hollow sound,  
At Pausalip passed through that hollow path  
Which Virgil for its primest Glory hath.  
These and the rest beheld: One day got up  
On evermore smoking Vesuvius top;  
Vesuvius that two years before did throw  
Such death and damage upon all below▪  
Which burned up grass, and trees did make appear;  
And tore Griego that did stand too near.  
Above three weeks I did at Naples stay,  
Then (in a Galley) went to Genoa;  
Which (in it) an Ambassador did bear  
To th' Cardinal Infante landed there,  
Sent by the Viceroy to salute his hands,  
Going t'be Governor o'th' Netherlands▪  
I there remained but a few days, but found  
A vessel that was for Marseilles bound;  
I in it thither passed, but by the way  
Did at Savona land, and dinner stay.  
I at Marseille▪ but two day's abode,  
And the next after to Avignion road.  
I dined at Orange, and lay at Vienne,  
And so to Lions did return again,  
There stayed a day, or two; and then did ride  
Unto Roana on the Loyers' side:  
About three days and nights along that stream  
We went by Boat, till we to Briack came.  
There we did leave the River, and next morn  
Unto Mount-Argis did again return.  
The morning after we from thence did go,  
And lay that Night at pleasant Fountain-Bleau.  
Thence we to Conbril went, and (on the Seine)  
To Paris thence by Boat did come again.  
There I above two months than made a stay;  
Save on Saint Dennis wonders spent a day.  
After which time I went to Amiens,  
There lay one night, and went to Calais thence.  
As my stay served, what ever was of Fame  
Or note I visited where ere I came.  
Four days I was in Calais, then crossed over  
The Sea in eight hours' space, and came to Dover.     

Encomiastic verses on several Books.  

To my friend Mr. Thomas Randolph on his Play called the Entertainment, Printed by the name of the Muse's Looking-Glass.  

SOme austere Cato's be that do not stick  
To term all Poetry base that's Dramatic:  
These contradict themselves; For bid them tell  
How they like Poesy, and they'll answer well.  
But as a stately Fabric rai●ed by  
The curious Science of Geometry,  
If one side of the Machine perish all  
Participates with it a ruinous fall:  
So they are enemies to Helicon,  
That vow they love all Muses saving one.  
Such supercilious humours I de● devise se,  
And like Thalia's harmless Comedies.  
Thy entertainment had so good a Fate  
That whosoever doth not admire thereat  
Discloseth his own Ignorance; for no  
True Moralist would be supposed thy foe.  
In the pure Thespian Spring thou hast refined  
Those harsh rude rules thy Author hath designed:  
And made those precepts which he did rehearse  
In heavy prose, to run in nimble verse.  
The Stagarite will be slighted; who doth list  
To read or see't becomes a Moralist:  
And if his eyes and ears are worth thine Ore▪  
Learn more in two hours then two years before.  
Thou hast my suffrage Friend; And I would fain  
Be a Spectator of thy Scenes again.    

To my friend Mr. Philip Massinger, on his Tragi-comedy called the Emperor of the East.  

SUffer (my Friend) these lines to have the grace  
That they may be a mole on Venus' face:  
There is no fault about thy book but this,  
And it will show how fair thine Emperor is.  
Thou more than Poet! our Mercury, that art  
Apollo's Messenger, and dost impart  
His best expressions to our ears, live long  
To purify the slighted English Tongue.  
That both the Nymphs of Tagus and of Po  
May not henceforth despise our language so:  
Nor could they do it if they ere had seen  
The machless features of the Fairy Queen;  
Read Johnson, Shakespeare, Beaumond, Fletcher, or  
Thy neat-lined pieces (skilful Massinger.)  
Thou known, all the Castellians must confess  
De Vega Carpio thy foil, and bless  
His Language can translate thee, and the fine  
Italian wits yield to this work of thine.  
Were old Pythagoras' alive again,  
In thee he might find reason to maintain  
His Paradox, that Souls by transmigration  
In divers bodies make their habitation:  
And more; that all poetic Souls yet known  
Are met in thee contracted into one.  
This is a truth, not an applause; I am  
One that at farthest distance view thy flame,  
Yet dare pronounce, that were Apollo dead,  
In thee his Poetry might all be read.  
Forbear thy modesty: thy Emperor's vein  
Shall live admired, when Poets shall complain  
It is a pattern of too high a reach,  
And what great Phoebus might the muses teach.  
Let it live therefore, and I dare be bold  
To say, It with the world shall not grow old.    

To my Friend Mr. Philip Massinger on his Tragi-comedy called the Maid of Honour.  

WAs not thine Emperor enough before  
For thee to give, that thou dost give us more?  
I would be just but cannot; that I know  
I did not slander, this I fear I do▪  
But pardon me if I offend; thy fire  
Let equal poets praise whilst I admire.  
If any say that I enough have writ;  
They are thy Foes, and envy at thy wit.  
Believe not them nor me: they know thy Lines  
Deserve applause, and speak against their minds.  
I out of Justice would commend thy Play:  
But (Friend) forgive me, 'tis above my way.  
One word, and I have done: and (from my heart)  
Would I could speak the whole truth, not the part:  
Because 'tis thine, It henceforth shall be said,  
Not th'maid of honour, but the honoured maid.    

Of Mr. John Fletcher his Plays, and especially the Mad Lover.  

Whilst his well organed Body doth retreat  
To its first matter, and the formal heat  
Triumphant fits in judgement to approve  
Pieces above our Candour and our love;  
Such as dare boldly venture to appear  
Unto the curious eye, and Critic ear:  
Lo! the Mad Lover in these various times  
Is pressed to life t'accuse us of our Crimes.  
Whilst Fletcher lived, who equal to him writ  
Such lasting monuments of natural wit?  
Others might draw their lines with sweat, like those  
That with much pains a Garrison enclose,  
Whilst his sweet fluent vein did gently run  
As uncontrol'd, and smoothly as the Sun.  
After his Death our Theatres did make  
Him in his own unequalled Language speak:  
And now (when all the Muses out of their  
Approved modesty silent appear)  
This Play of Fletcher's braves the envious Light,  
As wonder of our ears once, now our sight.  
Three and fourfold best Poet, who the lives  
Of Poets and of Theatres survi'st!  
A Groom or Ostler of some wit, may bring  
His Pegasus to the Castalian Spring;  
Boast he a Race o'er the Pharsalian plain,  
Or happy Tempe valley dares maintain;  
Brag at one leap upon the double Cliff  
(Were it as high as monstrous Temariffe)  
Of far renowned Parnassus he will get,  
And there t'amaze the world confirm his seat:  
When our admired Fletcher vaunts not aught,  
And slighted every thing he writ as nought;  
Whilst all our English wondering world (in's cause)  
Made this great City echo with applause:  
Read him therefore all that can read, and those  
That cannot, learn; If y'are not Learning's Foes,  
And wilfully resolved to refuse  
The gentle Raptures of this happy Muse.  
From thy great Constellation (noble Soul)  
Look on this Kingdom, suffer not the whole  
Spirit of Poesy retire to Heaven,  
But make us entertain what thou hast given.  
Earthquakes and thunder Diapasons make,  
The Seas vast roar, and Irresistless shake  
Of horrid winds a Sympathy compose;  
So that in these there's music in the close:  
And (though they seem great discords in our ears)  
The cause is not in them, but in our fears.  
Granting them music, how much sweet's that  
Mnemosyne's daughters voices do create?  
Since Heaven, and earth, and Seas and air consent  
To make an harmony (the Instrument  
Their own agreeing selves) shall we refuse  
The music that the Deities do use?  
Troy's ravished Gamymed doth sing to Jove;  
And Phoebus' self plays on his Lyre above.  
The Cretan Gods, or glorious men who will  
Imitate right, must wonder at thy skill,  
Best Poet of thy times! or he will prove  
As mad, as thy brave Memnon was with love▪    

To my very good Friend Mr. Thomas Bancroft on his Works.  

A Done (my friend) lay pen and paper by,  
Y'ave writ enough to reach eternity;  
In soft Repose assume thy happy Seat  
Among the Laureates to judge of wit:  
Apollo now hath called you to the Bench  
For your sweet vein, and fluent eloquence;  
Whose many works will all rare patterns stand,  
And deathless Ornaments unto our Land,  
Beloved, admired and imitated by  
All those great souls that honour poesy.  
Against th'approach of thy last hour, when  
He thee shall call from the abodes of men,  
(In his own Choir (for thy exceeding Art)  
Among renowned wits to sing a part)  
Nor you, nor any friend need to prepare  
Marble or brass a Pyramid to rear,  
To thy continual memory, nor with  
A Mausoleum hope to make thee live:  
All such materials time may devour,  
But o'er thy works shall never have a power.  
While nimble Darwen Trent augments, and while  
The streams of Thames do glorify our Isle,  
And th' English tongue whiles any understand,  
Thy lines shall be grace unto this Land.  
Our Darbyshire (that never as I knew  
Afforded us a Poet until you)  
You have redeemed from obloquy, that it  
Might boast of wool▪ and lead, but not of wit.  
Virgil (by's birth) to Mantua gave renown,  
And sweet-tongued Ovid unto Sulmo town,  
Catullus to Verona was a fame;  
And you to Swarton will become the same.  
Live then (my friend) immortally, and prove  
Their envy that will not afford thee love.    

To Mr. Humphrey C. on his Poem entitled Loves Hawking Bag.  

SIR, I applaud your enterprise, and say  
Y'our undertaking was a bold assay:  
But you have nobly done't, and we may read  
A work that all old Poems doth exceed.  
Avaunt you Grecian Mongrels, with your Scraps  
Fallen from lined Homer's, or did Hesiods chaps:  
Musaeus too▪ (for all Scaligers cracking)  
With Hero and Leander may be packing.  
Virgil be gone! we hate thy slanderous tongue,  
For doing the chaste Queen of Carthage wrong.  
Venusian Horace too hereafter may  
Put up his pipes, and hearken to thy Lay.  
Ovid, thy several witty Poems, all  
From hence to Pontus into exile call.  
Valerius Flaccus, hang thy Golden Fleece  
Before some honest Tavern door in Greece.  
Silius Italicus hence get thee far  
With all the tumults of thy Punic war:  
And Spanish Lucan quickly call away  
Caesar and Pompey to Pharsalia.  
Statius thy Theban story leave to brag:  
And listen all unto Loves-Hawking Bag.  
Chaucer, we now commit thee to repose,  
And care not for thy Romance of the Rose.  
In thy grave at Saint edmond's Bury, thy  
Hector henceforth (Lydgate) may with thee lie;  
Old Gower (in like manner) we despise,  
Condemning him to silence for his Cries.  
And Spencer, all thy Knights may (from this time)  
Go seek Adventures in another Clime.  
These Poets were but Footposts that did come  
Halting untoes, whom thou hast all outrun:  
For Sol hath lent thee Pegasus the Nag,  
To gallop to us with Loves-Hawking Bag;  
And welcome (mighty Poet) that alone  
Art fit to sit with Phoebus in his throne.    

To Mr. James Strong Bachelor, upon his wonderful Poem called Joanareidos.  

WHat a fine piece of poetry appears!  
Such as hath not been seen these many years:  
So strange for matter, and so strangely writ  
That Joanareidos is matchless yet.  
The Iliads and Odysseys must give way,  
And famed Aenaeadoes yield up the day:  
The high Austriadoes must also yield,  
And Mortem●riados leave the field.  
For where's that poet (all the world among)  
That must not veil the bonnet to James Strong?  
Thou bachelor of Arts, or rather bungler,  
Or bachelor in life to whom the stronglier (sluts,  
(What else should move thee to commend thy  
That mightst have spent thy time in cracking nuts,  
Or looking birds-nests? or (what's best of these)  
In eating buttered cake, or toasted cheese)  
Hail our James Strong! (Strong James!) whose every line  
Draws like a cable all our wondering ey'ne,  
And general applause from friends and foes,  
And many strangers up and down (he trowes.)  
O 'tis a wondrous book; each word doth smell  
As if't had something in it of a spell:  
The lines are charming, and (if I guess right)  
They will bewitch women to scold and fight.  
Old Robin Hood your western dames excel  
Scarlet, and little John, and Adam Bell,  
Clem of the Clough, and William Cloudeslee,  
And all the outlaws of the Greenwood tree.  
Had Guy of Warwick and the bold Sir Bevyes,  
Stukely, and Jonny Armstrong made their levies  
Of the most valiant Soldiers of their time,  
And come to this siege▪ th'had been bet at Lime.  
The Chubb's in buff trembled, when (like to Turk's)  
The saw thy Joanes to rage upon the works, (plight,  
They might have burnt their foes in piteous  
Had they but been their bedfellows a night.  
But oh! their fury was so rash, they kept  
That fire within, for those they did protect:  
So (for their zeal unto the ●ause) perhaps  
They paid them with a plaudite of claps.  
Merciless than they were (there is no doubt)  
That spared no friends within, nor foes without.  
Nor within walls only their valour lay,  
But field too, as thy title page doth say:  
And I believe their mettle they have shown  
Under some Hedges, if the truth were known.  
But I digress their power to relate,  
It is a theme only becomes thy pate.  
I for thy pains (if such there can be found)  
Wish thee one of thy Joanes, and that Joan sound;  
That thou may'st lime her, and (on her) in time,  
Beget a race of Joanes to fight for Lime.  
O happy New-Inn-Hall! (where thou hadst luck  
Such savoury dregs of poetry to suck)  
For all will say it henceforth must excel  
(For rhyming) Kates-Hall and Emanuel.  
This Nation may report (upon their Oaths)  
As Coriate did exceed for writing Prose;  
So thou for penning an Heroic Song  
Dost all surpass; In meeter being James Strong.    

A Praeludium to Mr. Richard Brome's Plays.  

THen we shall still have Plays, and though they may  
Not them in their full Glories yet display;  
Yet we may please ourselves by reading them,  
Till a more noble Act this Act condemn.  
Happy will that day be, which will advance  
This Land from dirt of precise Ignorance;  
Distinguish moral virtue, and rich wit,  
And graceful Action, from an unfit  
Parenthesis of Coughs, and Hums and Haes,  
Threshing of Cushions, and Tautologies:  
Then the dull zealots shall give way, and fly,  
Or be converted by bright Poesy;  
Apollo may enlighten them, or else  
In Scottish Grots they may conceal themselves.  
Then shall learned Johnson reassume his Seat,  
Revive the Phoenix by a second heat,  
Create the Globe anew, and people it,  
By those that flock to surfeit on his wit.  
Judicious Beaumond, and th'ingenious soul  
Of Fletcher too may move without control.  
Shakespeare (most rich in humours) entertain  
The crowded theaters with his happy vein.  
D'avenant, and Massinger, and Shirley then  
Shall be cried up again for famous men:  
And the Dramatic Muse no longer prove  
The people's malice, but the people's love.  
Black, and Whitefriars too shall flourish again,  
Though here have been none since Queen Mary's reign:  
Our theaters of lower note in those  
More happy days shall scorn the rustic prose  
Of a Jack-Pudding, and will please the Rout  
With wit enough to bear their Credit out.  
The Fortune will be lucky, see no more  
Her Benches bare as they have stood before:  
The Bull take Courage from applauses given,  
To echo to the Taurus in the heaven:  
Lastly, Saint James may no Aversion show,  
That Socks and Buskins tread his Stage below.  
May this time quickly come, these days of bliss  
Drive Ignorance down to the dark Abyss:  
Then (with a justly attributed praise)  
We'll change our faded Brome to deathless Bays.    

To my worthy, and learned Friend Mr. William Dugdale, upon his Warwickshire Illustrated.  

THey that have visited those foreign Lands  
Whence Phoebus first our Hemisphere commands;  
And they that have beheld those Climes, or Seas  
Whence he removes to the Antipodes:  
Have followed him his Circuit through, and been  
In all those parts that day hath ever seen,  
(Although their number surely is but few)  
Have not (learned friend) travelled so much as you;  
Though in your study you have sat at home,  
Without a mind about the world to room.  
Witness this so elaborate piece; how high  
Have you obliged us by your Industry!  
We may be careless of our fames, and slight  
The pleasing trouble any books to write:  
The Nobles and the Gentry (that have there  
Concern) shall live for ever in your Shire.  
Our names shall be immortal, and when at  
The period of inevitable fate  
We do arrive, a poet needs not come  
To grace an Hearse with's Epicedium.  
Marble and brass for tombs we now may spare,  
And for an Epitaph forbear the Care:  
For, for us all (unto our high content)  
Your book will prove a lasting monument.  
And such a work it is, that England must  
Be proud of (if unto your merit just;)  
A grace it will unto our Language be,  
And Ornament to every Library.  
No old, or modern rarity we boast,  
Henceforth shall be in danger to be lost:  
Your worthy book comes fortunately forth;  
For it again hath builded Killingworth.  
Maugre the rage of war or time to come  
Aston shall flourish till the general doom:  
And the Holts Progeny shall owe as much  
Unto your lines, as him that made it such.  
The Spires and walls of Coventry your pen  
Hath built more lasting than the Hands of men.  
The prospects of our noble seats you shall  
Secure from any ruin may befall:  
Our pleasant Warwick, and her Castle (that  
Surveys the streams of Avon from her seat)  
Your Labours more illustrious have made  
Then all the Reparations they e'er had.  
Victorious Guy you have revived, and he  
Is now secure of Immortality.  
Even my beloved Pooley that hath long  
Groaned underneath sinister fortunes wrong,  
Your courteous eyes have looked so kindly on,  
That now it is to its first splendour grown;  
Shall slight times devastations, and o'er  
The banks of Anchor flourish evermore;  
For there's such virtue in your powerful hand,  
That every place you name shall ever stand.  
The skilfullest Anatomist that yet  
Upon an humane body e'er did sit,  
Did never so precisely show his Art,  
As you have yours, in your Cor●avian part:  
You (in your way) do them in theirs exceed,  
You make the dead to live, they spoil the dead.  
Now Stratford upon Avon, we would choose  
Thy gentle and ingenuous Shakespeare Muse,  
(Were he among the living yet) to raise  
T'our Antiquaries merit some just praise:  
And sweet-tongued Drayton (that hath given renown.  
Unto a poor (before) and obscure town,  
Harsull) were he not fallen into his tomb,  
Would crown this work with an Encomium.  
Our Warwickshire the Heart of England is,  
As you most evidently have proved by this;  
Having it with more spirit dignified,  
Then all our English Counties are beside.  
Heart's should be thankful; therefore I obtrude  
This testimony of my gratitude.  
You do deserve more than we all can do:  
And so (most learned of my friends) Adieu.    

To my learned friend Mr. Thomas Bancroft upon his Book of Satyrs.  

AFter a many works of divers kinds,  
Your Muse to tread th' Aruncan path designs;  
'Tis hard to write but Satyrs in these days,  
And yet to write good Satyrs merits praise:  
And such are yours, and such they will be found  
By all clear Hearts, or penitent by their wound.  
May you but understanding Readers meet,  
And they will find your march on steadfast feet.  
Although your honest hand seems not to stick  
To search this Nations Ulcers to the quick,  
Yet your Intent (with your Invective Strain)  
Is but to lance, and then to cure again,  
When all the putrid matter is drawn forth  
That poisons precious Souls, & clouds their worth▪  
So old Petronius Arbiter applied  
Corrosives unto the age he did deride:  
So Horace, Persius, Juvenal (among  
Those ancient Romans) scourged the impious throng:  
So Ariosto (in these later times)  
Reproved his Italy for many crimes:  
So learned Barclay let his Lashes fall  
Heavy on some, to bring a cure to all.  
So lately Withers (whom your Muse doth far  
Transcend) did strike at things Irregular.  
(But all in one t'include) So our prime wit  
(In the too few short Satyrs he hath writ)  
Renowned Don hath so rebuked his times,  
That he hath jeered vice-lovers from their crimes.  
Attended by your Satyrs, mounted on  
Your Muses Pegasus (my friend) be gone,  
(As erst the Lictors of the Romans went  
With Rods and Axes (for the Punishment  
Of Ill) born with them) that all vice may fly (nigh.  
(That dares not stand the Cure) when you draw    

To my most honoured Cousin Mr. Charles Cotton the younger, upon his excellent Poems.  

BEar back you Crowd of Wits, that have so long  
Been the prime Glory of the English tongue;  
And room for our Arch-Poet make, and follow  
His steps, as you would do your great Apollo:  
Nor is he his Inferior, for see  
His Picture, and you'll say that this is he;  
So young, and handsome both, so tressed alike,  
Thar curious Lily, or most skilled Vandike  
Would prefer neither: Only here's the odds,  
This gives us better verse, then that the Gods.  
Beware you Poets that (at distance) you  
The reverence afford him that is due  
Unto his mighty merit, and not dare  
Your puny thirds with his lines to compare;  
Lest (for so impious a pride) a worse  
Than was Arachne's Fate, or Midas curse,  
Posterity inflicts upon your fames,  
For venturing to approach too near his Flames;  
Whose all-commanding Muse disdains to be  
Equalled by any, in all Poesy.  
As the presumptuous Son of Clymene  
The Suns command importuned for a day  
Of his unwilling Father, and for so  
Rash an attempt fell headlong into Po;  
So you shall fall, or worse; not leave so much  
As empty names, to show there once were such.  
The Greek and Latin Language he commands,  
So all that then was writ in both those Lands:  
The French and the Italian he hath gained,  
And all the wit that in them is contained:  
So, if he pleases to translate a piece  
From France, or Italy, Old Rome, or Greece,  
The understanding Reader soon will find  
It is the best of any of that kind;  
But when he lets own rare Fancy lose  
There is no flight so Noble as his Muse:  
Treats he of War? Bellona doth advance,  
And leads his March with her refulgent Lance:  
Sings he of Love? Cupid about him lurks,  
And Venus in her Chariot draws his works▪  
What e'er his subject be, he'll make it fit  
To live hereafter Emperor of wit.  
He is the Muse's Darling; All the Nine  
Phoebus disclaim, and term him more Divine.  
The wondrous Tasso that so long hath born  
The sacred Laurel, shall remain forlorn:  
Alonso de Ercilla that in strong  
And mighty Lines hath Araucana song:  
And Sallust that the ancient Hebrew-story  
Hath Poetized, submit unto your Glory:  
So the chief Swans of Tagus, Arne and Seine,  
Must yield to Thames, and veil unto your strain.  
Hail generous Magazine of Wit; you bright  
Planet of Learning, dissipate the Night  
Of Dulness, wherein us this Age involves,  
And (from our Ignorance) redeem our souls.  
A word at parting Sir, I could not choose  
Thus to congratulate your happy Muse:  
And (though I vilify your worth) my zeal  
(And so in mercy think) intended well.  
The world will find your Lines are great & strong▪  
The Nihil Ultra of the English Tongue.    

To my learned Friend Mr. Thomas Bancroft, on his Poem entitled the Heroic Lover.  

FRom your retired abode in Bradley town  
Welcome (my Friend) abroad to fair renown.  
Nova Atlantis and Utopia you  
Again expose unto the public view  
By your Heroic piece; unknown before  
To all Mankind, but Bacon, and to More.  
To the tripartite world Columbus erst  
The Western India discovered first;  
Yet after his more curious Survey  
Vesputius much on's Glory took away,  
By giving it his Name: So (though those two  
Most learned Lords did first those country's show)  
You by your Antheon, and his fair delight  
Far-sought Fidelta, skilfully unite  
Utopia and Atlantis: what they two  
〈◊〉 to their Pens, they both owe you.  
Nor Belgium, Italy, nor France, nor Spain,  
Nor Graecia, nor Sicilia could constrain  
(With their most tempting Objects) your brave Knight  
To yield submission to a false delight.  
Although Sir Antheon did refrain to run  
The monstrous Courses of the Knight o'th' Sun,  
(Whose Fablers so strange tales of him rehearse,  
That such untruths never appeared in verse)  
Those Country beauties he despised, and pelf;  
Others o'ercome others, but he himself:  
And of all victories it is the best  
To keep our own wild appetites suppressed.  
Hereby his prowess he did most discover,  
And hence you term him the Heroic Lover.  
Your fair Fidelta did not range about  
Utopian Cities to find Suitors out:  
A free well-ordered house she kept, and there  
Sir Antheon met with her, and married her.  
Joy, or long life, I need not wish them either,  
They in your Lines shall happy live for ever:  
And you (for penning their high Epic Song)  
With Laurel crowned, shall live i'th' Poet's throng.     

A MASQUE Presented at Bretbie in Darbyshire On Twelfth-Night. 1639.  

The Prologue  To be spoken by whom the Masquers shall appoint. 

TO you great Lord, and you most excellent Lady,  
And all this wel-met, welcome Company,  
Thus low I bow: And thank, that you will grace  
Our rude Solemnities with such a presence.   The Lar Familiaris of the house being proud of so much and great Company, and glad of their free and noble Entertainment, appears to congratulate the hospitality of the Lord and Lady, and speaks these lines. 

BEtter than I could wish! Superlative  
To all relations, not examples now!  
I've known the Household Gods of Rome & Greece,  
And all the good Penates of famed Troy,  
Herd what they could triumph in, of their Fates;  
Tell jovial stories of the frolic Greek●,  
And the great Banquets of famed Ilium;  
Have been informed of Egypt's glorious Feasts  
To entertain the Courtly Anthony:  
Yet was there or Necessity, or pride,  
Or empty prodigality in all.  
Here is a Course steered even, and voluntary;  
And I rejoice, as much as Ganymed,  
Olympus Nectar, and Ambrosia Keeper.  
Here I grow fat with plenty of all sorts  
That either Seas, or Land, or Air can yield;  
And here I live as well admired, as envied  
By all the Lares of all other Places:  
For there's a Constancy in my delights,  
A blessed Elysium where I do not want  
The tithe of any wish I ever thought.  
The proudest Lar of the greatest Princes  
May boast of state, and languish in a noise,  
Whilst here I live secure, and do enjoy  
As much of every thing, but fears and dangers.  
And may it last while Fate attends on time,  
Until the supreme Deities of Heaven  
Think you too worthy to adorn the earth,  
And mean to fix you glorious Stars in Heaven:  
And whiles there's air but to receive a Sound,  
May your Names busy it to speak your praise▪  
Continue ever matchless, as you are  
A Pair without Compare, and but a Pair,   A Satire invited by the Loudness of the Music, and the perpetual concourse of people to inform himself to what end all tended, comes boldly in, and meets with the Lar Familiaris. Lar. 
What means this bold Intrusion?  Sat. 
Friend, forbear,  
Though I was born i'th' Woods, and rudely bred  
Among the Savages, I have a mind  
Aspires the knowledge of great Princes Courts,  
And to what end aims all this jollity  
In yours as well as others Palaces.  Lar. 
Dost thou approach to censure our delights,  
And nip them in the bud? Satire! take heed  
We'll hunt you hence through all the woods&launss,  
And over all the brooks thine eyes have seen.  Sat. 
You threaten more perhaps than you can do:  
What art?  Lar. 
I am this Palace Deity.  Sat. 
I wish tho● wert a Servant unto Pan,  
Or any God that doth frequent the Fields.  Lar. 
So would not I: I'm better as I am.  Sat. 
Thy Ignorance bewitches thee to this:  
Thou liv'st among all fears, all noise, all cares,  
While I walk merry under heavens bright eye.  
We in the Fields are free from any Sin  
Against th'almighty Deities of Heaven:  
We know no Law but natures; do not tremble  
At Prince's frowns; have neither fear nor hope;  
And are content, a State the Gods exceed not.  
You languish in a perpetuity  
Of thoughts as unconfined as are your ends  
You truly lavish all your faculties  
In getting covetous wealth, which we contemn.  
Your sleeps are starting, full of dreams and fears;  
And ours as quiet as the Barks in Calmes.  
The youthful spring makes us our Beds of flowers,  
And heaven-bright summer washeth us in springs  
As clear as any of your Mistress' eyes:  
The plenteous Autumn doth enrich our Banquets  
With earth's most curious fruits, & they unbought:  
The healthful Winter doth not pain our bones,  
For we are armed for cold, and Heat in Nature.  
We have no unkind loves in meads or fields,  
That scorn our tears, or slight our amorous sighs.  
Nor are we frantic with fond jealousy,  
The greatest curse jove could inflict on's Queen,  
For all her curious search into his Life:  
We in the woods esteem that Beast the stateliest  
That hath his head the richliest spread with horns.  
The Golden Age remains with us, so famed  
By your Athenian and Roman Poets.  
Thus we enjoy what all you strive to get  
With all the boundless riches of your wit.  Lar. 
Satire! When I but say thouart Ignorant,  
Thy flourishing Boast is answered at the full.  Sat. 
But I desire a larger way.  Lar. 
And take it.  
Canst thou compare the Rags of nakedness  
Before the studied dress of these times?  
And canst thou like a cold and stony Cave  
Before the perfumed Beds of Palaces?  
Admire the Melancholy falls of waters,  
Or whistling Music of th' inconstant winds,  
The chirping discords of the wanton Birds,  
Above the Angel-voices of our Ladies,  
And th'exquisite variety of Music  
Ordered to thousand several Instruments?  
Content to cloy thy homely Appetite  
With Crabs, and Slows, and Nuts, and rude mixed herbs,  
Before the stately Banquets of the Great?  
How canst thou like Beasts inarticulate voices  
Above the Heaven-given eloquence of men?  
Forsake the Woods (fond Satire) and but try  
The unthought difference 'twixt them and us.  
The Hills are fit for Beasts: Converse with men,  
And thou wilt never like thy Cause again.  Sat. 
Thou almost dost persuade me: but then I  
Shall leave mine old, and honest Company.  Lar. 
Thy new Ones shall exceed them. Her's a  
Will give thee wine as rich as is thy blood:  
And her's a Cook will cloth thy bones with flesh Butler  
As rich as was young Jason's Golden Fleece.  Sat. 
Well: I will live with thee.  Lar. 
And welcome Satire.  Sat. 
Spite of the Fates, and Grecia's best Protector,  
I'll be Achilles, and o'ercome by 
* The Cook's Name.  Hector.  Lar. 
A resolution worthy thy Sylvanus.  Sat. 
But for my last Farewell unto the Woods,  
●'le show you a wild Dance of nimble Satyrs:  
For we do dance as much as they that live  
In Prince's Courts, and Tissue-Palaces.  

First Song.  
YOU Satyrs that in Woods  
Have frozen up your bloods,  
Advance yourselves, and show  
What great Pan's men can do;  
Appear.  
Here you had need beware,  
And move as swift as Air:  
These are not Sylvane Swains,  
But Courtly Lords and Dames Sat here.    

The Antimasque.  Satyrs rudely but decently attired, stuck with Flowers, and Bayes-Chaplets on their heads, come in, and dance as many several Antics, and in as many several shapes, as shall be necessary. Being ready to depart, two excellent youths in rich apparel, come striving in together; to whom the Lar speaks. Lar. 
What do you mean (sweet Boys) to interrupt  
Our sports? I pray you leave your wrestling thus,  
And do not strike your skins, too soft for blows.  1. 
He would outrun me, and be kissed before me.  2. 
And he leave me among these dreadful Satyrs.  Lar. 
Whence come you?  1. 
We both were left i'th' woods, and tempted by  
Such things as these to live abroad with them.  Lar. 
What would you have?  1. 
I would go to my Father.  2. 
And I unto my Mother.  Lar. 
Who is your Father?  1. 
The ever honoured Earl of Chesterfield,  
Worthy of all his Titles by his virtues;  
And full of Noble thoughts. A great maintainer  
Of our great Grandfather's virtue, Hospitality:  
The Feeder of the poor; whose Gate's so open,  
It doth not need the Office of a Porter:  
Whose House is now Delphian Apollo's seat:  
For he's the Patron of all Arts and Wit.  Lar. 
And who is your Mother, pretty One!  2. 
She is the Countess to that Noble Lord;  
A Lady worthy more than earth can give her:  
Rich in those virtues make her Sex admired;  
A fair exceeder of the best examples  
That Greek or Roman stories e'er produced:  
Goddess of Tame, of Anchor, and of Trent.  
She's such an one as hath none equal to her,  
And therefore you may very easily know her.  Lar. 
I know them both, and honoured in my knowledge:  
Sweet youth! yond is your Father, kiss his hand:  
And that (fair little One) th'unequaled Lady  
You asked for: go, and beg a kiss of her.  Here the Lord of the House gives his hand to his Son, and the Countess kisses her Son. Then the Satire speaks to his Companions. Sat. 
Fellows, since you have done, Farewell: I'll leave you  
And all the rural Pastimes of the woods:  
I like this noble Company so well,  
That I hereafter here intend to dwell.  The Anti-Masquers depart: then the Lar Familiaris speaks to the Satire. Lar. 
Now (Satire) I will let thee see how far  
The Palace-pleasures do exceed the Woods.  The Lar leads the Satire to a curious bower, all decked with the best and finest flowers of the season: and opens a wide entry into it, where sitting upon pleasant banks, full of the sweetest herbs and delicatest flowers, he discovers the Masq●ers: then presently invites them forth with this song. 

1. Second song.  

IT is unfit we should be dumb,  
When beauties like to those of Heaven  
To grace our mirths are hither come,  
And help to make our measures even.  
Then let us dance, and let us sing,  
Till Hills and Dales with Echoes ring.   

2.  
Now it is fit our Souls should know  
No thought but what is full of pleasure;  
That we our sorrows should outgo,  
And tread them down in every measure,  
Then let us dance and let us sing,  
Till Hills and Dales with Echoes ring.   

3.  
'Tis mirth that raiseth up the Mind,  
And keeps Diseases from the Heart:  
Sports harmless never were inclined  
To cherish vice, but to divert.  
Then let us dance, and let us sing,  
Till Hills and Dales with Echoes ring.    Here the Grand Masquers come forth; the Ladies dressed like the ancient Goddesses; then the Lar speaks to the Satire. Lar. 
Satire sit, and observe a while alone:  
For I do mean to mix with these in Dance.  Here they Dance what or as many Set-dances as they please, the Masquers being Men and Women, or only Women: When they have danced all they intended, the Lar, or one of the Masquers invites the Spectator-Ladyes with this song to join with them. 

1. Third song.  

COme Ladies rise, and let us know  
Now you have seen, what you can do;  
Hark how the Music doth invite  
All you to Solemnize this Night:  
Then let the Sounds that you do hear  
Order your feet unto your ear.  
O rise! rise altogether,  
And let us meet:  
music's Divine, and well may join  
Our motions rude unto a sweet.   

2.  
The Figures of the Magic Art  
We'll equal in a better part:  
Judicial Astrology  
Cannot cast such an one as we:  
Add but your skill (as we desire)  
And we'll keep time to Phoebus' Lyre.  
O rise! rise altogether,  
And let us meet:  
music's Divine, and well may join  
Our Motions rude unto a sweet.    Here all the Company dance what they please, and while they please; when they leave, the Lar, or one of the Masquers, sings this to the spectator Ladies, as they go from them. 

Fourth song.  

Ladies enough; we dare not  
Tempt you to more than this;  
Now may your Servants spare not  
To give each of you a kiss:  
If we were they you should have them  
To recompense your pain:  
O happy they that gave them,  
And may give them again!   

'Tis late; Good-night: go sleep, and may  
Soft slumbers crown your eyes till day.    This being sung, the Masquers, the Lar Familiaris, and the Satire, go into the Arbour, which closes on them.   

An Epithalamium, designed for the Nuptials of Sir Andrew Knyvegston my Wife's Brother, and Mrs. Elizabeth Stanhope of Elveton my Cousin-german; Their Marriage prevented by her death.  

RIse amorous Virgins, rise and dress  
The Bride, her Groome's in readiness:  
She wakes, and fain would call you from  
Your Beds, but blushes; therefore come.  
The early Bridesgroom swears he knows  
You dreamt to night of pleasing Shows;  
Of Hymen joining willing hands  
To be subjected to his bands;  
Of Hymen joining mutual hearts,  
And Hymen joining other Parts;  
Or else you did not sleep at all,  
For thinking what was to befall  
To the fair Virgin, that to night  
(Full of soft trembling, and delight)  
Must a pure Maiden go to Bed  
And rise without her Maidenhead.  
But merry Lasses haste; It may  
Be your own turn another day:  
Attire her quickly, and while you  
Are busied so laugh at her too;  
And any of you would laugh to be  
So happy, and so nigh as she.  
Let her be dressed as Juno, when  
She tempted Jove, scorned mortal men:  
As the bright Cyprian Queen, when she  
Did first enthral War's Deity:  
As the delicious Memphian Dame  
When she great Anthony o'ercome,  
Not by her Soldier's masteries,  
But beams of her al-powerful eyes.  
Now she is ready, stay a while,  
And let us see her blush and smile:  
May all the Genial powers Divine,  
Most gentle sweet One, now combine  
And shower and power upon you two  
All that you can desire, they do.  
But lead her out; Now go together  
To be of two made one, or either:  
You go divided, and alone,  
But must return both of you One:  
He must be hers not his, and she  
Must not be hers, but his must be.  
Now they do walk triumphant o'er  
Those fears that troubled them before;  
And all their friends attendants by,  
All joyful for this day of joy.  
She studies not as she doth go,  
How she again may answer No;  
But unto every thing say I,  
As all the Maids would that are by.  
He happy man, soon to be blest,  
Unto the Temple maketh haste:  
And every minute hates that stands  
Not 'twixt their hearts but 'twixt their hands▪  
Behold! they are arrived where  
They will be placed in one Sphere,  
To run through a most glorious Life  
Of Love; most blessed Man and Wife.  
Th' Amazed Priest when he espies  
The radiant beauties of her eyes,  
Cannot believe't the Bride to be,  
But an Immortal Deity  
Descended from Olympus' Top,  
Where they all drink in Hebe's Cup;  
Or Cytheraea Queen of love,  
Or the chaste daughter of high Jove,  
The new Solemnities to grace,  
Or on the youthful Pair to gaze.  
But when he's satisfied 'tis she,  
He looks no more for fear that he  
His heart should deep enthral in love,  
Past any hope of a remove.  
When both are willing and past wooing,  
No Marriage can be long a doing:  
The Parson asks, and they Consent,  
Both eager of their own Content;  
Though now and then he smiles, and she  
Doth blush to think what soon must be.  
Now all is done thats to be done  
Within the Church, and they are One▪  
The Bridemen wish all joy betid  
Unto the glad and bashful Bride;  
And the Bride-maides do bid the like  
To him: which he expects at night.  
At their Return (with all the prayers)  
Of all their Friends for happy years)  
A Sumptuous Dinner doth invite  
All to't with different Appetite.  
Most sit to feed their covetous eyes  
With the Bride's matchless delicacies:  
No other Object can remove  
Their looks, and many rose in love,  
Some old cold few, and their near kin  
Eat well, and many healths begin  
To both their future days of joy,  
And the soon getting of a Boy:  
Such healths do often make her spread  
Her beauteous face with sudden red;  
For Virgin's often blush to hear  
Those things they long for, and love dear.  
All Dinner-while a fine-voic'st Boy  
Sings many a Song, and many a Toy  
Of Love, and of lost Maidenheads,  
And all the joys of Marriage-Beds.  
The Bridegroom happiest man of all  
May safely take survey (and fall.  
Into no danger) of the sweet  
Delicious Bride; and she doth meet  
His every look, and every smile,  
And blushes for't all dinner-while.  
She is ashamed to look therefore;  
And loves so she cannot give o'er.  
On fire and fire again they set  
Their hearts, but careless are of it:  
They know the night will come, and then  
theyare sure to cool themselves again.  
Dinner being done, the afternoon  
Is tedious in regard of soon;  
Yet with variety worn away  
Of sports belonging to that day.  
They dance, and the fair Bride doth move  
In conjuring circles of sweet Love:  
She treads so evenly as she meant  
To make the ground an Instrument;  
And sends up sounds so soft and rare,  
Angels might dance unto that Air.  
The Bridegroom's blest by every tongue  
Of all the merry various throng,  
To be an Owner of that One,  
Whose equal they have never known:  
And she is counted happy too,  
To be beloved by him, so true  
To her, and worthy unto all,  
Both blest in equal Nuptial.  
He now dares boldly kiss, and oft  
Doth give her hard ones; she him soft.  
She is his own, and no delight  
He wants, but what will come at night.  
Though she's ashamed when he doth kiss,  
She's not content when he doth miss.  
And thus the Afternoon being spent,  
Time draws them nearer their content;  
They go to Supper, not to eat,  
But both to be revenged on meat:  
Because, till that be done they know  
To bed they must not, cannot go.  
Supper being finished (and indeed  
Too much time, knowing what's to succeed)  
The fearful Virgin's lead away  
Trembling at what she would assay;  
And her undresses tell next morn,  
What she must rise, yet wish her turn:  
And lay her in a bed so sweet,  
Jove would come down to't, did he see't;  
Where lies a jewel of richer use  
Then either India can produce.  
The first assault she wisheth done;  
And he that it was but begun:  
What between smiles and fears, she lies  
In the truest posture to entice:  
And scarce dares see who looks upon her,  
Thinking her honour her dishonour.  
Her Bed doth seem the bower of bliss,  
Where every sweet and pleasure is:  
Her eyes two Lights divine, to smile  
On all, and comfort them the while:  
Her delicate hair (that's only found  
Upon her Cheeks) a net on ground  
Of purest Marble, set to take  
Not only Mars, but all that make  
On high Olympus' top abode;  
Even every stern, and gentler God.  
Her Lips the twins of Loveliness,  
Like roses on a bank, that bless  
The eyes of all the lookers on;  
From whence a Zephyrus doth come,  
So sweet, and calm, as it would soon  
Turn every thing into perfume.  
The pleasant Garden of Delight,  
Her cheeks mantled with red and white,  
Seem like the early morning, ere  
The Sun comes in our Hemisphere.  
The Stately Column of her Neck,  
Is only worthy to protect  
Beauties rich Palace, her fair head,  
As smooth as Ivory polished.  
She was in bed, and we no more  
Could see of all her wondrous store.  
Now comes the Bridegroom, now so blest,  
His only misery's not undressed:  
He helps, and they do help him straight;  
(Few Men do linger on this night.)  
Who soon stands in his Shirt, whilst she  
Doth hide her Face, ashamed to see:  
But by her side he's quickly laid  
And kisses the fair bashful Maid.  
When they hoped all would leave the Room,  
The Bridal Posset in doth come:  
A Ceremony he exclaims  
Unfit for Hymen's youthful flames,  
And all the company prays, (If we  
Must eat it) let it our breakfast be:  
And many thought the Virgin kind  
Was also of her Bridegroom's mind.  
The Company laughed, and said 'Twas just  
For him to do as others must:  
There is no help, he doth obey,  
And eats to get them soon away.  
The Posset being done, they wish  
Goodnight, and leave them to their bliss.  
Now he and she are equally  
Blest, and possessed both of their joy:  
And Innocent Love his Part doth play,  
And recompenses long delay.  
Love's is no Coward Fight, although  
A Friend meets Friend, and Foe not Foe;  
It is a battle sweet, not cruel,  
And yet an even and naked duel:  
No timorous giving back, yet strife  
Perpetual 'twixt man and wife.  
As Nilus in one channel bound,  
Runs long through Egypt's fertile Ground,  
And yet at last into seven Currents  
Divides his swift and plenteous Torrents,  
And separated so runs on  
Till it mix with the Ocean:  
So, happy Pair, I wish may prove  
Your fruitful and auspicious Love;  
May you pass through a fortunate  
And glorious Life, and know no fate  
Sinister whiles you live; and from  
Your Loves an hopeful Offspring come,  
That may grow great, and equal good  
As you are now, and as their blood:  
To honours highest Zenith climb,  
And fix there till the end of time.  
As this, I wish full of delight  
To you all nights; and so good-night.    

EPIGRAMS The first Book.  

1. To the Right Honourable Philip Earl of Chesterfield, Baron of Shelford, etc. My Uncle.  

MY Lord, you are my Patron; and I'll tell  
The reason why, then judge if I do well:  
None of these Epigrams are worth a rush;  
And naughty Wine doth need a gallant bush.    

2. To the Reader.  

Though (Generous Reader) now and then I write  
Verses that justly may appear too light:  
Yet on my word (and you may credit me)  
In jest I make them for variety;  
And do protest to all censorious men,  
They flow not from my heart, but from my Pen.    

3. To Chloris.  

What a beginning is, you fain would know,  
And it therefore unto you thus I show:  
You are exceeding naught; be good, and so  
Of a beginning you example show.    

4. To Mr. William Turner.  

Schoolfellows when we (Friend) together were,  
The verses that I writ you loved to hear:  
Soon as I can I will requite the same;  
In the mean while receive this Epigram.  
But this is nothing you reply: In troth,  
And your applauses then were little worth.    

5. To my Cousin german Mrs. Olive Cotton.  

Suspicion, Grief, Disdain: Fame, Beauty, Truth,  
Wrongeth, consumes begets: keeps, wounds, endueth  
Friendship, life, hatred: deeds, the mind, the best.  
You want the first three, and enjoy the rest:  
Suspicion hate, eat grief, abhor disdain,  
Love fame, keep beauty, and in truth remain.    

6. To my worthy Friend Mr. Harbert Aston.  

When we at Chenie School together were,  
I knew you often to abuse a Boy,  
Whom, when he did to you for pity cry,  
You beat the more; but good Sir! Do you hear!  
Is not this true, when he to you did moan  
Did he not then lament unto Ast●n?    

7. Of myself, when I was motioned to a Judge's Daughter.  

I hate to lackey humours, and detest  
Some things as vile, though others think them best.  
I must not lose my freedom for a face  
I cannot dote on; nor refrain that place  
Nor company I like; think Poets poor,  
Of Captains too prejudicately, endure  
No sight of Wine, judge Plays unlawful be;  
A fraudulent shadow men can only see.  
Hypocrisy I do abhor; and wooed  
My Life should be cheerful as well as good.  
I know I have spies on me, but I slight  
Their vigilancy, and dare take my delight.  
I may obtain another Mistress, know  
No such constraints for her, nor undergo  
Censure for things I should do: I prefer  
My liberty, and friends much above her:  
Not that I do dislike that beauty; so  
I should err foully from a truth I know.    

8. Of my staying Supper with my Cousin Mrs. Olive Cotton.  

If that the Seas were gentle, there would be  
No violent Tides, waters would run as free  
When they mix with the Ocean, as at first  
When out of their original rocks they burst.  
If that the winds were quiet, and would stay  
Enclosed in rocks under their Sovereign's sway;  
The frighted Lily would as firmly grow  
As the great'st-bodied Beach, and never bow.  
If that wise Fate had not appointed what  
Our lives should aim to, either this or that;  
Rebellious man would make his will his rule  
To live by, and his Soul his body's fool.  
I meant not to have stayed: but must relate,  
Ladies do what they please like Seas, Winds, Fate.    

9 An Epitaph on my younger Brother Mr. Thomas Cokaine, who died at Bath about the 18th year of his age, and lies there Buried.  

Passenger stay, and (though thou art  
Of Flint) weep ere thou dost depart:  
For underneath this stone lies he  
Who was Heaven's Epitome.  
Mourn, if thy Friend, that he did take  
His flight so soon, and thee forsake:  
Or (if a stranger to his worth)  
That he unknown to thee went forth.  
What old men are so long about,  
He learned to do e'er he went out;  
The Art of dying well: And so  
May all by him. Now thou may'st go.    

10. To Mr. John Hony-man.  

On hopeful youth, and let thy happy strain  
Redeem the Glory of the Stage again:  
Lessen the Loss of Shakespeare's death by thy  
Successful Pen, and fortunate fantasy.  
He did not only write but act; And so  
Thou dost not only act, but writest too:  
Between you there no difference appears  
But what may be made up with equal years.  
This is my Suffrage, and I scorn my Pen  
Should crown the heads of undeserving men.    

11. Of Love.  

Heroic Caesar that did overcome  
So many Nations, triumphed in Rome,  
Was by a Lady's eye captived so  
That amorously he did both court and woe;  
And never quiet was till he enjoyed  
Fair Cleopatra her young brother's bride:  
Illustrious Anthony did leave the Care  
To be Rome's Emperor, and forsook the War,  
Left all his Soldiers in a doubtful Fight,  
And on the Seas pursued his fled delight.  
Since such great minds by Love enthralled be,  
Wherefore, alas! wonders the world if we?  
May married couples lawfully enjoy  
The Sweets of Love till they themselves do cloy,  
And must the rest their censures undergo  
For the same thing which they so often do?  
We must not have fruition where we wooed,  
But only there where we do know 'tis good.  
A circumstance doth make a thing unjust:  
For th'chastest Love is but a Lawful Lust.    

12. To young Maids, translated out the 3. lib. De Arte Amandi.  

Venturae memores jam nunc estote senectae:  
Sic nullum vobis Tempus abibit iners.  
Dum licet, & veros etiam nunc editis annos,  
Ludite: sunt anni more fluentis aquae.  
Nec quae praeteriit rursum revocabitur unda:  
Nec quae praeteriit hora redire potest.  
Vtendum est aetate; cito pede labitur aetas:  
Nec bona tam sequitur quam bona prima fuit.   

Think often on old Age, and its decays,  
And so you will not lose your flourishing days.  
Whilst you enjoy fit years, young wenches, play:  
For years like speedy waters steal away.  
Past streams will never be called back again:  
Nor will an hour return, though spent in vain.  
Use youth, for it quickly away doth pass,  
And time to comes not as the former was.  
Thus far the Roman Poet. But alas  
That book the cause of his exilement was:  
And (if you follow the advise h'ath given)  
'Twil work you a worse banishment from Heaven.    

13. To Plautia.  

Away (fond thing) tempt me no more;  
I'll not be won with all thy store.  
I can behold thy golden hair,  
And for the owner nothing care:  
Thy Starry eyes can look upon,  
And be mine own when I have done:  
Thy cherry ruby lips can kiss,  
And for fruition never wish:  
Can view the Garden of thy cheeks,  
And slight the roses there as leeks:  
Can hear thee sing with all thine Art,  
Without enthralling of mine heart:  
My Liberty thou canst not wrong  
With all the Magic of thy tongue:  
Thy warm Snow-breasts and I can see,  
And neither sigh nor wish for thee:  
Behold thy feet, which we do bless  
For bearing so much happiness;  
Yet they at all should not destroy  
My strong preserved Liberty:  
Could see thee naked as at first  
Our Parents were when both uncur'st;  
And with my busy searching eyes  
View strictly thy hid rarities;  
Yet after such a free survey,  
From thee no Lover go away.  
For thou art false, and wilt be so,  
I else no other fair would wo.  
Away therefore, tempt me no more,  
I'll not be won with all thy store.    

14. Of my Mistress, written at Venice▪  

I thought when I was far removed,  
My Mistress I should not have loved;  
But having seen another Fair  
(As in all City's Beauties are)  
My former passions should forget,  
And here a new affection set.  
But Venice, though famed every where  
For matchless Ladies, cannot bear  
My thoughts from her whom I unkind  
(Though she the cause) have left behind.  
Had she not been a cruel One,  
But loved, I then had stayed at home:  
And be she far more harsher than  
Tigers half starved, or savage men;  
Abroad she shall not kill me, I  
In my own Country will go die;  
And vow some true friend to engrave  
Upon my Stone this Epitaph:  
Here lies the Man, whose faith him slew;  
Who still had lived if been untrue.    

15. To Mrs. Mary Coke, an Acrostic  

M y busy eyes lately captived me so  
A 'bove my strength, I know not what to do.  
R etain my Liberty I could not: all  
Y our beauties, Lady, needs must make a thrall.   

C old I but show my heart, which I desire;  
O n it your Picture you might see entire.  
K inde therefore be, and let it be your will  
E ffectually to save, and not to kill.    

16. To my Uncle Sir John Stanhope, an Acrostic  

S it, to be silent unto you, would be  
I magined ill by you, thought worse by me;  
R aeson I have to write, and therefore will:   

I cannot with my thoughts sit and be still.  
O ver and over let me search my heart,  
H ere you, and there I find in every part.  
N o man was ever to another bound   

S oh much as I to you; for you have found  
(T o make yourself more matchless) such new  
A s the Invention would extort a praise. (ways,  
N ature was kind to me, and I do bless  
H oer care, to give me such an happiness.  
O nely t'have been your friend had been a fate,  
P rood to have made me ever: but my State  
E xceedes; I am your Nephew, and you do   

Increase my joy, and make me your friend too.  
Shall I be silent then? I can as well  
Make myself worthy as refrain to tell.  
You are my wonder; every word you speak  
Vice trembles at, and thinks that she shall break.  
No stop hath virtue, but you do remove,  
Casting the same away out of your love.  
Live long, and glory in your worth: for you  
Equal your will, exceed what others do.    

17. Of my Mistress.  

I love a Lass, whose eyes are Stars Divine;  
Whose teeth are pearls set in a ruby line;  
Whose mouth's a sacred spell, and doth encharm  
Her coldest hearers hearts, and makes them warm;  
Whose hairs are curls of God, and can compel  
The God of Love himself to love her well.  
But be she cruel; would here eyes were not  
Such Heavenly Stars, that they might be forgot;  
Would her teeth were not pearls, but far from fair,  
That I for them at all might nothing care;  
Would her mouth were an homely one, and all  
Her hair would change the curious hue, or fall:  
For if my Mistress force me to despair,  
I cannot choose but wish she were not fair.    

18. To my Cousin Mr. Charles Cotton, an Acrostic.  

C ousin, I write to you that you may know  
H owe much I love you, and how much would  
A ll that I can I will do, and have good (show:  
R aeson to do much more, and if I could.  
Long time I have desired to express  
E ache thought I have of my own happiness;  
S such you have made me by your love, and do   

C ompel me each day more to honour you.  
O 'tis a noble part in you to make  
T rue friendship wheresoever you undertake.  
T hus you do live, and living so you may  
O mit the care of your departing day;  
N o death can raze your memory away.    

19 To my very good Friend and Cousin Mr. Roger King.  

I love, and so do you; but know you whom?  
Faith that same party best that first doth come:  
And my love is as constant as her stay;  
Why should I love her when she goes away?  
If you are of the same mind, we are then  
Two constant Lovers though not constant men.  
We both are still in love, but fix not; for  
We the new Object evermore prefer:  
And that affection surely is most wise  
That comes not from the heart, but from the eyes.    

20. To Thalia.  

Weep out thine eyes (Thalia!) why are they  
Unmelted yet into an Inland-Sea?  
Drown all thy slanderers with them; such as dare  
Affirm thee guilty, and thy name not fair:  
Or rather scorn their Ignorance that frame  
Unworthy Calumnies against thy Name.  
Mnemosyne, thou mother of the maids,  
And you sweet Sisters that in Ascra shades  
(Retired from the troubles of the Earth)  
To many a lasting verse give fortunate birth;  
Dost not offend you that the Comic Muse  
Should suffer such affronts, and high abuse?  
Because that I frequent the thronged Stage,  
I'm censured by the malice of this Age  
Of Levity; but I despise the frowns  
Of rigid Cato's, and the hiss of Clowns.  
Illiterate Fools may please their gluttonous taste  
At dinner with some Epicure-Lord, and waste  
Their precious days in riot; whilst I feed  
Mine ears with all the wit these Times do breed.  
Sing loud, Thalia! Noble Souls will love  
To see thy Servants in their Socks to move:  
And may their ends be Tragical that hate  
The harmless mirth thy Comedies create.  
I do profess I'm one that do admire  
Each word refined in true Poetic fire:  
And do approve of natural action, where  
Fables seem as true passages they were:  
And love our Theatres of worth, where we  
May thee in all thy several dresses see.    

21. An Epitaph on my dear Cousin German Mrs. Elizabeth Stanhope, who died at Elveston about the 20th year of her age, and lies there buried.  

Here lies a Virgin, and (in stead  
Of losing of her Maidenhead;  
For she should soon have been a wife)  
Bereft of a noble Life:  
Stanhopes lament, and Ratcliffes mourn  
Before her sad untimely Urn.  
But such a sorrow is too slight  
For cause of so extreme a weight;  
Droop Elveston, and Darbyshire,  
No Green, but black perpetual wear:  
May April showers to Heavens tears turning,  
Make all May-flowers spring up in mourning.  
Weep all that ever knew her, or  
Rather all that have heard of her.  
For trivial Deaths let's mourning wear  
Of black, for her of cloth of hair:  
Or let us senseless clothes despise,  
And show our sadness in our eyes.  
Let's melt our hearts though they be stones,  
And weep our eyes to Diamonds.  
Which (being touched by deaths cold hand)  
Congealed may on her Marble stand.  
Any discourse let us detest;  
For sighs and groans express us best.  
But who is this that we in such  
A sorrow must lament so much?  
Elizabeth Stanhope; now you know,  
Go mourn until you die for wo.    

22. An Epitaph on my dear sister the Lady Boteler, who deceased about the 34th year of her Age.  

Here lies the Lady Boteler, who ran through  
Two States of Life, and both of them so true  
And just were known to all that knew her, that  
Her, her survivers all may imitate.  
The Virgin, and the matrimonial life  
She blest with her example: And so rife  
Her memory doth flourish, that it can  
Not die, while there on earth lives one good man.  
Cokaine her own name was: Elveston gave  
Her Life, Tutburie death, Ashbourn a Grave.    

33. To Lesbian.  

I thank you (Lesbian) for your lips, and smiles,  
Your pretty courtship, and your amorous Wiles▪  
Her breath was sweet as Venus' bower of bliss,  
Her joys uncounterfeit, and not remiss;  
Her skin was smooth as calmest summers day,  
And warm as are the temperate Noons in May:  
Her mind was willing, and her body laid  
In th' truest Garb to tempt who durst invade.  
There wanted nothing to complete our joys,  
Had not the house been liable to spies;  
For I do value more a Lady's fame,  
Then satisfaction of my highest flame.  
Thus much in jest, now to speak truth is time;  
I'm glad we parted, and escaped the Crime.    

24. An Epitaph on a great sleeper.  

Here lies a great Sleeper, as every body knows,  
Whose Soul would not care if his body ne'er rose.  
The business of life he hated, and chose  
To die for his ease for his better repose;  
And 'tis believed when the last trump doth wake him,  
Had the Devil a bed, he would pray him to take him.    

25. An Epitaph on a great Wencher.  

Here lies a great Wencher, and dead I dare swear,  
For were he alive an whore would be here.    

26. To my honoured Friend Mr. Marmaduke Wyvel.  

Sir, I have ever honoured you, and do  
Owe all fair service I can pay to you:  
But (Friend) I owe you more than this, yet shall  
(With all the speed that may be) absolve all.    

27. An Epitaph on Mrs. M. H.  

Here lies a body whose soul went hence  
Fuller of Glory than Innocence:  
What her life wanted to make high  
Her worth, she wrought when she did die:  
And now when all her fight is done,  
Her Foes must say that she hath won.  
Let her faults perish with her breath,  
And none think of her life, but death.    

28. To Mr. Nathaniel Hazard and his Wife, on their Marriage.  

Blessed Pair Goodnight! The Prologue now is done:  
Your wooing's past, and both of you are won.  
The sweets of Love remain, the Play's behind,  
To yield delight to a long longing mind.  
May all fair fortune crown your happy Lives,  
You out-love husbands, and she out-love wives.  
May every night and day, and day and night;  
And hour and minute be to you delight.  
May all my wishes prosper, and may you  
Never repent y'are one, and wish you two:  
And (for your Epilogue) when you return  
To earth, may all that know you for you mourn.    

29. To Corinna.  

Why (excellent Corinna) do you throw  
Your gold away for dirt to lay on snow?  
For so, compared unto your whiter skin,  
The Linen is you veil your body in:  
For like a Diamond taken from a rock  
You would appear unclouded of your smock.    

30. Of Lycoris.  

Beauty and Honour are great names; and they  
Here and hereafter differ many a way.  
Beauty half Age destroys; and none can be  
Enamoured on the fairest Anatome.  
Immaculate Honour easily disperses  
All Clouds that hover o'er Heroes Heirses.  
Beauty triumpheth over humane kind,  
And mighty Love enthrones in every mind.  
Honour disdains base Actions, and would have  
A noble life to be our Epitaph.  
The fair Lycoris doth desire a long  
And flourishing Spring of beauty, ever young;  
Her many years to wear away in mirth,  
And Heaven's epitome to have on earth:  
Her days in music, and in feasts; and nights  
(Between her lover's Arms) in soft delights;  
But with so cunning Carriage to enjoy  
This momentary false felicity,  
As to deceive the curious world, that fort  
She every where may have a fair report:  
And that (when she enters the Grave's descent)  
Honour may fix upon her Monument.    

31. Of Mary a Chambermaid.  

Marry a Chambermaid, a brown-eyde Lass  
Complained that she all day in labour was;  
I laughed at her simplicity, and said,  
Surely at Night than you'll be brought to bed.    

32. Of Katherine, a Kitchen-wench.  

Katherine a Kitchen-wench merrily said  
That lame men were the best to please a maid:  
I asked her why? She wittily replied,  
They that have Legs defective love to ride.    

33. Of the Infamy of his Mistress.  Tibull. Lib. 4. 

Rumour ait crebro nostram peccare puellam:  
Nunc ego me surdis auribus esse velim.  
Crimina non hae● sunt nostro sine ficta dolore:  
Quid miserum torques? Rumour acerbe tace.   

Of falsehood Fame my Mistress doth accuse:  
Would I were deaf, and could not hear the news.  
This is not forged without my unease:  
Why dost thou vex me? cruel Rumour, peace.    

34. To Apollo, Ausonius Gallus▪  

Pone arcum Paean, celeresque reconde sagittas:  
Non te virgo fugit, sed tua tela timet.  
Phoebus' thy Bow and Arrows hide; for she  
Thy weapons feats, but doth not fly from thee.    

35. To my Cousin Mr. Charles Cotton.  

Pardon my boldness (Cousin) that defames  
Your name among my trivial Epigrams:  
Yet I before have sometimes used you thus;  
For in my Eclogues you are Tityrus▪    

36. Of Chaucer.  

Our good old Chaucer some despise: and why?  
Because say they he writeth barbarously.  
Blame him not (Ignorants) but yourselves, that do  
Not at these years your native language know.    

37. Of Edmond Spencer.  

Our Spencer was a Prodigy of wit,  
Who hath the Fairy Queen so stately writ:  
Yield Grecian Poets to his Nobler Style;  
And ancient Rome submit unto our I'll.  
You modern wits of all the fourfold earth (worth)  
(Whom Princes have made Laureates for your  
Give our great Spencer place, who hath out-song  
Phoebus himself with all his Learned Throng.    

38. To my Noble Cousin Colonel Ralph Sneyde.  

When the last spring I came to Keel, and found  
Old Hospitality on English Ground,  
I wondered: and (Great Sidney) did prefer  
My Sneyde superior to thy Kalander.  
All things are neat, and Jovial Plenty keeps  
Continual Festivals by years, not weeks:  
He good decayed House-keeping doth revive,  
And doth preserve our English Fame alive.  
So lived our worthy Ancestors, and so  
May you till you the oldest Man may grow  
Within the Land; and ripe for heaven go hence,  
Bemoaned as far as known. Poet's th'expense  
Of time and paper both may save that day,  
The Poor your lasting'st epitaph will say.    

39 Of Farmo.  

Farmo one afternoon was drunk extremely,  
Wherein he cursed, and swore, & lied, not meanly.  
One asked him whence (when he had's wits again)  
So many vices did proceed, so vain?  
Marry (quoth he) as I do truly think,  
They came not from my heart, but from my drink▪    

40. Of Ovid's Banishment.  

The secret cause of Ovid's sad mischance  
Was seeing or being seen in dalliance.  
They that dare act that vice should choose their time,  
And not add scandal also to the crime.    

41. To Mr. Thomas Bancroft.  

Sir, in your Epigrams you did me grace  
T'allow me 'mong your many Friends a Place:  
T'express my gratitude (if Time will be  
After my death so courteous to me,  
As to vouchsafe some few years to my name)  
Freely enjoy with me my utmost Fame.    

42. To the Lady Elizabeth Darcy, my Cousin German.  

Madam, the greatest Ladies of past Times  
Kind Influences upon Poet's rhimes  
Have from their gracious eyes bestowed, and made  
Them Heaven with their Inventions to invade▪  
As the Pelignan Poet honoured by  
The supreme Princess of sweet Italy,  
Who singing her (under Corinna's Name)  
Filled the whole Roman Empire with her Fame;  
Which having spread from his immortal verse,  
Is now renowned through all the Universe.  
And (Madam) you will do yourself no wrong  
T'encourage a good Poet in his Song;  
And to your mercy you no Injury do,  
If you forgive this toy I've sent to you.    

43. To my worthy Friend Colonel Edward Stamford.  

Great-souled Achilles was a noble Friend;  
Hector for valour every where renowned;  
Thousands the bounteous Caesar did commend;  
Antonius the best natured man was found.  
What need I search for more in Rome or Greece?  
You (in you) have the virtues of all these.    

44. To my Cousin German Mrs. Cordelia Harry's.  

When as in Cornwall at Powlmaggon, I  
Enjoyed that sweet retired Company.  
Methought that house afforded all the bliss  
Poets can feign there in Elysium is.  
My Lord and Lady (blest in wedlock) led  
Their days in as much quiet as in bed  
They spent their Nights; fit couple t'entertain  
Hermes and Jove, walked they on earth again:  
And their House to be made a Temple, where  
Concored and peace triumphed all the year.  
But old Philemon and his reverened wife  
Led a most poor though a contented Life.  
My Lord Mohun lived in a plenteous wise,  
Able to feast the wand'ring Deities.  
You and your Sister's Graces seemed to grace  
Your Parents firm Affection, and the Place.  
So live the blessed, and best: and so may I,  
While you a more transcendent Life enjoy.    

45. To Lydia.  

You boast that you are beautiful, and wear  
A several rich Gown every week i'th' year;  
That every day new Servants you do win:  
But yet no virtue have to glory in.  
One of less beauty and less bravery, and  
Servantless, sooner should my heart command.  
Beauty will fade, and ruins leave behind;  
Give me the lasting beauty of the mind.  
Servants and clothes are the Enammel oft  
Of bodies too luxurious and soft.  
Leave vaunting (Lydia) therefore till you can  
Speak one true virtue, and I'll hear you then.    

46. Of a Room in an Alehouse that we call the Apollo.  

This Room with Mirth and jests we hollow  
Unto the Deity of Apollo▪  
And (although here we do want Wine  
To consecrate before his Shrine,  
To absent Friends) we do prevail  
In plenteous Pots of mighty Ale:  
Such as it seems great Dis did love,  
Who Ceres daughter from above  
Did steal; such drink as will constrain  
Ceased Oracles to speak again;  
And noble Spirits will infuse  
Into the poorest and humblest Muse:  
And Men in all the humours dress  
Of Ovid's Metamorphosis.  
An Ant by drinking this is grown  
To be a lusty Myrmidon:  
The rustic Numa it will bring  
From Blow, and make him Rome's great King:  
Desire in coldest bosoms move,  
Quickening Pygmalion's marble Love:  
Against Troy's Conquerors combine,  
And turn the victors into Swine.  
Then welcome all that hate the Folly  
Of Solitary Melancholy,  
Love mirth and jests, and mean to hollow  
This Room unto the great Apollo.    

47. Of Delia.  

Talking with Delia I did perceive  
A natural Perfume in her fragrant breath;  
And could not choose but gather many a kiss  
From her sweet lips, Portcullisies of bliss.  
Like a Chameleon I could live, and spare  
All other things to feed upon that air.    

48. Ca Germanici Augusti Epigramma de Puero Thracensi.  

Thrax puer astricto glacie cum luderet Hebro,  
Frigore concretas pondere rupit aquas:  
Dumque unae partes rapido traherentur ab amne,  
Praesecuit tenerum lubrica tecta caput,  
Orba quod inventum mater dum conderet urna,  
Hoc peperi flammis, caetera dixit aquis.   

A Thracian Boy on frozen Hebrus played,  
Till with his weight a breach i'th' Ice he made,  
Which from his body cut his tender head,  
The rest being by the Waters swallowed.  
His Mother sighed (bestowing 't in an Urn)  
That I brought forth for waters, this to burn.    

49. Of Cajus Germanicus Augustus.  

Germanicus was Drusus Son, o'th' high  
And the illustrious Claudian Family;  
An eminent Poet; to whom Ovid sent  
His Roman Kalander from Banishment.  
His Cousin Agrippina was his Wife,  
By whom he many children had. His life  
(At thirty four years' age in Antioch)  
Tiberius (by poison) from him took.  
Of all his many Poems nothing came  
Unto our Times, but that one Epigram.    

50. To my very good Friend Mr. Francis Lenton.  

Sir, many years ago when you and I  
Frequently kept together company  
With Master Lightwood, and my Noble Brother  
Sir Andrew Knyveton, and some few such other;  
Tom Lightwood made each following Anagram  
(Which I illustrated) upon your name,  
While (at the Fleece in Covent Garden) we  
Drank roundly Sack in Rosen Cans, and free.  
There all was done in jest, and so was took:  
Pray laugh at them again now in this book.    

51. Francis Lenton Poet.  
Anagram.  
Fil-pot Rosen Can.  

Filpot! What Pot? A Rosen Can:  
Who shall? Frank Lenton shall, that man,  
But must he then turn Tapster? No,  
But fill for him he drinks unto.  
He (like a small Wit) scorns to put  
My Friend's health in a little Cup,  
But (like a Generous valiant man)  
His smal'st health drinks in a whole Can:  
But Poets Drink is surely Wine;  
No Alehouse trash makes men Divine.  
Why then Filpot, and Rosen Can,  
Except he be a Malt-drink-man?  
He's nothing less; Glasses being small,  
In Cans he doth drink Sack to all.  
His Anagram is true, and so  
His sack doth him true Poet show:  
He therefore is a Gallant man,  
And owneth Filpot Rosen Can.    

52. Francis Lenton. Anagram. Nann Colt's fire.  

Nann Colt's Fire, That is Love: For Love's a Flame;  
But sure Nann Colt then is some curious Dame.  
It may be not: For he may carry perhaps  
Nann Colts fire in his Breeches, have her claps.  
Then Nann Colt is unsound, and likely he,  
Why should he fresher than his Mistress be?  
Nann Colt's fire once did burn his heart: but lo!  
It now hath settled in a place below.  
I thought that Poet's Wits should be of fire,  
And not their bodies; that flames did aspire.  
〈…〉 burnt Frank? Be not dejected; so  
〈…〉 of Wine hath been you know,  
And yet the better for't; and so may'st thou  
By leaving her upon a solemn vow.  
But thou may'st be her fire another way,  
The Man that doth her heart and passions sway:  
A goodly fortune, to express desire,  
To have thy brains distilled by Nann Colts fire!    

53. To the World, of Nan Colt.  

If there be Lady that this Name doth own,  
Or (of inferior condition)  
A Woman in the world; world! witness bear  
We did not mean (by this) to injure her:  
We knew none such, he found it in his name,  
And (thus much said) I hope weare free from blame.    

54. To Mr. Francis Lenton, refusing wine.  

Dost thou endeavour (Frank) to leave thy drink  
That made thee such high raptures write & think?  
Or art a weary of the Muses? for  
What else could make thee Phoebus Sack abhor?  
It is our grief, our mourning, and thy shame,  
That the Queen's Poet, and a man of name,  
Should drive Apollo from his breast with a  
Fine glass of six shillings, or a dish of Whey.  
Redress our sorrows, and return again  
To wine, and make thy head like Charles his wain.    

55. Francis Lenton. Anagram. Not Nell; Cis, Fran.  

Not Nell, for she is fair and sound and sweet;  
But Cis, for she's as common as a street.  
Why should a Poet that can drink base drink,  
After a Lady that's deserving think?  
Or why should you, because your Characters  
Are good, expect a Mistress like the Stars?  
Because your Anagrams are rich to you,  
Would you a Mistress rich in beauty too?  
Not Nell; Cis (Fran) is thine, and use her well,  
That's make her tympanous belly rightly swell.  
Blame not thy fortune but thine eyes; or sure  
Some dark night's sport behind, or 'gainst a door.  
What though she be decayed like withered rose?  
She is no ancienter than her best clothes.  
You'll say this Anagram is naught: but show  
Your reason, for we all do know it true.  
However 'tis unfortunate, you'll say:  
For Poet's Loves should be as bright as day.  
It is your name (good Fran) doth tell she's foul,  
And makes the world acquainted with her soul.  
But you will ask, why may not Cis be fair,  
And Nell the homely One beneath compare?  
This will not help you Fran: for Nell is known  
Famous for beauty, witness Sparta Town:  
And Cis is yet, and hath been ever since,  
A common name for every Kitchen-wench.  
You must be patient therefore, and may thank  
Your name for this fine beast; Not▪ Nell, Cis (Frank.)    

56. To my very good Friend M. Thomas Lightwood.  

Sir, that I do expose these trifles to  
The world, which we (in jest) writ long ago,  
Pray pardon me: for (I am sure) I do  
A greater wrong unto myself than you.  
After so many troubles, they remain  
Once more to make us laugh at them again.    

57 To my noble Cousin Mr. William Milward.  

When I have wanted company sometimes,  
I've made myself merry with writing rhimes;  
And I do hope that reading them you will  
Laugh too, and pardon what you find too ill:  
For worth your approbation here is nought;  
My whole book being a continual fault.    

58. To my worthy Friends the two Colonel William Bales.  

So loved the two Alcides as you two:  
So did Alcides and Paeantius do.  
In the same steps that Noblest friends have moved,  
And with as firm a love as they have loved,  
You hand in hand have walked, and worked as high  
And glorious Actions of Amity,  
Striving each others affection to outgo:  
Yet (from your Spheres of Honour) looked below  
On me, and me into your friendship took;  
Who here have linked you (with me) in my book:  
And that fair Fortune that your hearts inclines,  
Grant us a life immortal in my lines.    

59 To my dear Cousin Mr. Robert Milwand.  

Whilst you retired at Alsop in the Dale,  
With Poets and Philosophers converse;  
And o'er Voluminous Law-books do prevail,  
And those hours you from study steal, desperse  
Into your Oeconomical Affairs,  
You mix much pleasure with some easy cares.    

60. To my noble Friend, Mr. Marmaduke Wivel.  

After so many in the English tongue,  
Whose happy Muses, Epigrams have sung,  
I have too boldly done, and writ in vain  
To get repute by following that strain.  
When I bethink me that great Johnson (he  
Who all the ancient wit of Italy  
And learned Greece (by his industrious Pen)  
Transplanted hath for his own Countrymen,  
And made our English tongue so swell, that now  
We scarce an equal unto it allow)  
Writ Epigrams, I tremble, and (instead  
Of praise) beseech a pardon when I'm read.    

61. To my honoured kinsman Mr. Henry Kendal the younger.  

Your Grandmother was hospitable, did  
Invite me often to her house, and bid  
Me hearty welcome; And I hope to prove  
The like effects hereafter of your love.  
Poets of old were Prophets held; and I  
For once will venture on a Prophecy:  
You shall at Smithsby flourish, gain the Hearts  
Of all your Country by your worthy Parts.    

62. To Maids.  

Soft Virgins, you whose tender hearts are prone  
To yield unto your own destruction,  
Resist all vicious flames, and you will find  
The Glories of an undefiled mind;  
Preserve your bodies as a Magazine  
That doth contain the richest Treasure in;  
For Diamonds, Pearls, and Stones of highest price  
Heaven loved virginity mainly outvies:  
Patavine Chastity enjoying more  
Content, then Acts of a 
* A prime street in Old Rome.  Suburran Whore.  
'Tis mean to yield submission unto Sense,  
When virtue hopes so great a Recompense.    

63. To the truly Noble Sir Arthur Gorges.  

Those worthy Romans that scorned humble things,  
Created, and obliged after-Kings,  
Amidst their thoughts of highest honour, ne'er  
Conceived Imaginations 'bove your sphere.  
The Babylonian Euphrates may  
For ever run, and Tiber never stay;  
The plenteous Rhine continually speed on,  
And Danubie, each to its Ocean,  
And not outgo your fair and high repute,  
Which doth amaze the world, and strikes me mute.    

94. To Sir Andrew Knyveton my wife's brother.  

Wonder not why among so many of  
My Epigrams, I do not oftener scoff,  
And taunt of men, observing when they halt,  
And tax them smartly after for their fault.  
I know that Epigrams should either be  
Satyrs reduced to an Epitome;  
Or else in choicest Language should invite  
(Being what you please) the Readers with delight.  
Troth! I in scoffs but little do prevail,  
Which is the cause that I no oftener rail:  
And have for Eloquence but what you see;  
And therefore all my friends must pardon me.    

65. To my Cousins Germane Mr. Cromwell, Mr. Byron, Mr. Ratcliff, and M. Alexander Stanhope.  

The worlds four Parts, and all the various Seas  
And Rivers that embrace them thousand ways,  
Perfect the Globe terrestrial, set it fixed  
Equal the circumvolving Heaven betwixt:  
So you four (joining in a Sympathy  
Of an unmached, fraternal Amity,  
Sought to for noble Souls, by all that can  
Under and Honour, or a Generous man)  
Are courted on all sides, and truly do  
Love them reciprocally that love you;  
So that your friends and you do justly stand  
The Centre of fair Friendship in the Land.    

66. To my Cousin Mr. Charles Cotton the younger.  

In how few years have you raised up an high  
Column of Learning by your Industry,  
More glorious than those Pyramids, that Old  
Canopus viewed, or Cair doth yet behold!  
Your noble Father (that for able Parts  
Hath won an high Opinion in all hearts)  
May like the elder Scaliger look down  
With admiration on his worthy Son.  
Proceed fair plant of Ex'lencies and grow  
So high, to shadow all that are below.    

67. To my honest Kinsman Sir John Reppington.  

I pray you (Sir) impale your Woods, that we  
In them the hunting of the Buck may see:  
By which good deed you will be sure to please grounds;  
The Naiads, and Hamadryades;  
Honouring the woods and brooks that grace those  
And raise a stately Echo by your Hounds,  
T'invite Diana to your Groves; that she  
A partner in your rural sports may be:  
Or pierce the beauteous Goddess Venus' ear,  
And bring her down from her celestial sphere  
To be spectatress of your game; brought thence  
To guard some young Adonis from Offence.  
By making you a park all this is done,  
A pleasant Grace unto your Amington.    

68 To my Brother in Law Colonel Will. Nevil.  

The old luxurious Romans vaunts did make  
Of gustful Oysters took in Lucrine Lake:  
Your Essex better hath, and such perchance  
As tempted Caesar first to pass from France.  
How did those ancient Worthies captive all  
The humbled world unto their Capitol!  
Yet from its highest Towers could not survey  
So rich a Country as (from Holt) you may.  
The noble Brutus, virtuous Portia,  
Luckless Antonius, chaste Octavia,  
Soul-fixed Paulina to her murdered Lord  
(The learned Seneca) such worths afford  
As have astonished Ages; yet your best  
Of wives may justly with them all contest.  
You then enjoying a full Fortune, and  
The delicacies may eat of Sea and land;  
Your days spend at a house of so fair site,  
And (with a so deserving wife) each night:  
Consider (since that you possess all this)  
If y'are not happy, who the Devil is?    

69. An Epitaph on a Penitent Bawd.  

Here lies a good woman (to speak but the truth)  
Who lived by her Tail all the days of her youth:  
And when she was old, and none could endure her,  
Stuck still to the Flesh, and became a Procurer:  
Yet was at her death so full of Remorses,  
That she cried a peccavi for all her lewd courses.    

70. An Epitaph on an old Bawd.  

Here lies an old Bawd whom the grave should have gotten  
Forty years since, for than she was rotten:  
Now here she doth lie for all People to piss on,  
(For fear of Doomsday) in a stinking Condition.  
But enough of this business; for well we may think  
The more we stir in it the more it will stink.    

71. To my Cousin Mr. William Milward.  

Whilst you at Chilcote live, and I at Pooley,  
Let's every Week meet one another duly;  
Talk of our long Acquaintance, and the strange  
Things that have happened since this mighty change:  
And drink a Glass of honest Countrey-Ale  
To all our absent Friends at every Tale.    

72. Don Quixot. Quarta parte, Cap. 33.  

Es de vidrio la Muger,  
Pero no se ha de provar,  
Si se puede, O no quebrar;  
Porque to do podria ser.   

Y es mas facile el quebrar se,  
Y no es cordura ponerse  
A peligro de romperse  
Lo que no puede soldar se.   

Then esto opinion esten  
Tadoes, then r'azon la fundo,  
Que si ay Danaes en el mundo.  
Ay pluvias de Oro tambien.   

Englished. Of Women.  

A Woman is of Glass, or weaker,  
And should not be put to the proof;  
Or if she be, not as to break her;  
Which is a thing facile enough.   

Glass is cracked with an easy stroke:  
And it no wisdom is to put  
That within danger to be broke,  
Which never can be soldered up.   

All men of an Opinion are,  
And it upon this reason ground,  
That if there any Danae's were,  
Gold Showers also would be found.     

73. Of a Servant-Maid.  

A servant maid in Winter washing clothes  
Upon the banks where pleasant Arnus flows,  
A passenger espied her, and did say  
I wish (sweet heart) you had a warmer day.  
She looked upon him in a pretty snuff,  
And then replied; Sir, here I've fire enough,  
Laying her hands you may guests where. He smiled  
To hear her answer come so quick, and wild:  
And (pulling out his weapon) said (fair Wench)  
Light me this Candle then e'er I go hence.    

74. The Boys Opinions.  

A few untoward Boys happening together,  
Started a Question t'be resolved whether;  
And from the youngest put it to the oldest,  
What part about a Woman was the coldest.  
The first a knee did say (in his Opinion)  
Was the coldest place of any female Minion.  
The next recovering from some thought he stuck at,  
Said he conceived it needs must be her buttock,  
By feeling cold (but he was but a Noddy)  
When she takes up her clothes to ease her body.  
The third than spoke (with very earnest urging)  
The breasts he did imagine of a virgin.  
Maid, or no maid, the fourth cried, 'tis no matter,  
The coldest place sure lies between wind & water.  
After the Question thus being vexed and hammered,  
Oh! sighed a Lover (lately grown enamoured)  
(Who ever speaks the truth may be the boldest)  
Of a coy Lady's parts her heart's the coldest.  
I (quoth the sixth) from all of you do vary,  
And am of an Opinion quite contrary:  
For with a Woman I lay late, and found her (her●)  
Warm every where to th' purpose (Pox confound  
They all laughed, saying, he might thank his riot,  
And they guessed him a Clap by his strict diet.  
My Hostess heard them, (grunting on her Palet)  
And swore, an old Woman as any Salad  
Was cold & wholesome: And (to clear this riddle)  
She to him called; Son! you may come and fiddle:  
But he seemed bashful, and refused the Grannum;  
Swearing, what Lust is in these beasts to damn 'em?    

75. Of a Sawyer.  

One cleaving Billets for a Courtesan,  
(Viewing her beauty) was a wounded man:  
He sighed, and mused, and did his work neglect;  
So that she came and him for Loitering checked.  
He standing more amazed; she said, speak (friend)  
What dost thou ail? Why dost not make an end?  
Recovering from's astonishment, he thought  
That faint hearts never fair Achievement wrought:  
And (Mistress) said, A great desire I have  
To lie with you: She answered him, peace (knave)  
I scorn so base a Clown. For all this he  
Plied her, and at the last they both agree:  
A Crown of Gold he was to give her: so  
She plucked her Clothes her favour to bestow,  
And with her white hand clapped her whiter Thigh,  
Sayings this flesh fit for a Sawyer? Fie!  
He hearing this looked on his Gold again,  
And said, is'e fit to give this to a Quean?  
And so the Goodman chanced to recover,  
(Saving his money) and went home no Lover.    

76. Of a Gentleman of Venice, and his Mistress.  

A Gentleman of Venice (as the most  
Of them themselves do put unto that cost)  
Kept a fair Mistress, and did every day  
(In solace) wear with her some hours away.  
Coming one Afternoon (with an Intent  
To spend some time in amorous blandishment)  
He found her undisposed, and newly laid  
Groaning, and sick, and covered on her Bed.  
He (seeing this) sighed sadly (Love) I fear,  
I'm now but troublesome in staying here;  
An other time I'll visit you. Pray stay,  
Quoth she: Introth you shall not go away;  
Come sit down by me: Hark you (Servant) I  
Am never so sick, but on my back can lie.    

77. To my especial Friend Mr. Henry Thimbleby.  

Platonic Love must needs a Friendship be,  
Or else Platonic Love's a Gullery:  
Love is (as Johnson in's New▪ Inn hath proved)  
Desire of union with the belov'd:  
And cannot only be a gazing at;  
But a strong Appetite t'incorporate.  
Why do you praise a Lady's Beauties so,  
And (in a silence) let her virtues go?  
Leave trifling; for we gather (by your suit)  
Your marriage shortly will your words confute.    

78. The Florentine Duchess, and her Woman Dwarf.  

A great Duchess of Florence some years since  
Had a She-Dwarfe of quick Intelligence,  
And a surpassing beauty; whom (above  
Her other Servants) she did highly love.  
Nanna, I bear thee such good will (she said)  
That I've a great desire to have thee wed  
One of thy Size, but handsome as might be;  
Because I Children fain would have of thee.  
Madam (she answered I) have sometimes been  
Within your Cellar, and your vessels seen;  
And (which did me with a strange pleasure strike)  
The great and least had bunge-holes all alike.    

79. To my honoured Friend Sir William Persal.  

Sir, you are every where beloved, and should  
I say admired, my words a truth wooed hold.  
You master all the Arts, and can discourse  
Of any science from the very Source  
To the full growth of it: From Pole to Pole  
Nature hath made you Doctor of her whole.  
What others have grown old about and grey,  
You have acquired by a more gentile way:  
For what they an Herculean Labour make,  
To you is but a soft Symposiack.  
Your quick, all-apprehending brain is such,  
It dictates wonders; which are proved as much.  
Let not this (Sir) seem flattery, and offend:  
I write but what I think; And so I end.    

80. A Design of an Epic Poem.  

I sing the valiant deeds and brave exploits  
Of Brutus, equal to the Worthies Nine:  
And the adventures strange of wand'ring Knights  
Famous in ours, and Countries transmarine;  
From Italy their high auspicious flights,  
Directed hither by the fates Divine:  
And how fair Ladies (in their bloomy years)  
Became enamoured on those Cavaliers.   

A work Heroick, worthy to be writ  
In stately numbers equal to their deeds;  
And by no humble, and no vulgar wit  
By one that only knows but oaten reeds;  
But by an able Poet that can fit  
Each Lover, and each Soldier in their weeds,  
That knows to draw a Line so firmly wrought,  
As neither Time nor War can bring to nought▪   

But seeing none this Task to undertake,  
And fearing these great Actions might die;  
Neglected cast all into Lethe Lake,  
Because that some malicious enemy  
Hath won upon this stupid Isle to make  
It think them Fictions raised by poetry:  
I (out of zeal unto so great a truth)  
Present this poem to our English youth.    

81. To my virtuous fair Cousin the Lady Trentham.  

Madam, I dare not blame this Age, nor call  
Any vice in it Epidemical:  
You are immaculate, and of so high  
A virtue, that you awe Impiety.  
Your Heart is a pure Heaven, where nothing is  
Admitted that can be conceived amiss.  
The Poet's Flight of virtues I contemn,  
And patient ●low Astrea's after them:  
You are their Sphere of happiness, and do  
Entertain all the Goddesses in you.    

82. To the Same.  

You bear that holy Martyr's name that did  
Die for her chastity, Saint Winifrid,  
An honour here you do her; and when you  
Shall meet in Heaven, she will return your due:  
You there will the precedent Saint appear,  
And she your name eternally then bear.    

83. To my old Friend Mr. Rob. Grosvenor.  

Sir, we have heard of Slanders of that height,  
As if to Paradise they directed right:  
When (out, alas!) it is a foul offence  
Any way to traduce an Innocence.  
Those Crimes that are by some on others thrown  
Guiltlessly, they do make those faults their own:  
And the just Judge their punishment will give  
Due to the sins that they have slandered with.  
Besides▪ his Soul he within vengeance bounds,  
That with a truth a reputation wounds:  
Your Friend and mine so much abused doth fall  
Under the First, and not the last at all.  
To talk of things commonly known and true,  
No mulct from Heaven will unto us accrue.  
But sure he of a blessed Condition is  
That hates of any one to speak amiss:  
That hath a merciful and candid thought,  
And thinks all good, rather than any naught.  
Heaven by a spotless life is won, and by  
The patient bearing of an Infamy.    

84. To my honest Cousins Mr. Robert Milward, and Mr. Roger King.  

You best of Friends, and my best Friends, that me  
Have many years graced with your Amity;  
My lines you honour with your worthy Names,  
(A lasting Glory to my Epigrams:)  
As Prince's Stamps upon base metals do  
Make them prove currant, and of value too.    

85. To Sir Francis Boteler, my brother in law, from Ashbourn.  

How Christmas steals upon us, as in fear  
To be opposed by the bold Presbyter!  
And how you part from us against this Time,  
As if you thought to meet it here a Crime!  
But oh inevitable business▪ when  
Old Christmas we meant to have tricked again,  
In's long neglected usual Ornaments,  
You have prevented it by going hence:  
So your Departure we accuse to be  
Guilty (by chance) of an Impiety;  
Tom Hurt, Will Taylour, and myself shall mourn,  
Till you recover our joy by your return.    

86. To the right Honourable Henry Lord Hastings Baron of Loughborough.  

My Lord, when in my youth I (for some while)  
Did leave the pleasures of our native Isle,  
And travelled France and Italy, I spent  
(Methought) my Time in a most high content;  
And was so far from longing to return,  
That I when I was sent for home did mourn.  
And doubtless you are pleased, who now enjoy  
A Calm after a storm of jeopardy.  
Homer his Iliads might have writ of you;  
And (as our fear prompts) his Odysseys too.  
But we will hope the best, and that you may  
(As erst Ulysses to his Ithaca)  
Return to England (all those tumults past)  
And find it crowned with happy days at last;  
Be reconciled to every own, and know  
(Among so many Friends) no single foe.    

87. To my Noble Cousin Mr. Henry Hastings of Branston.  

Sir, since our first acquaintance, ever through  
Our Friendship with the Noble Loughborough,  
What tumults have we seen, and dangers past,  
Such as in graves have many thousands cast!  
And yet we live (thanks to the Powers Divine)  
And love, I thank your Friendship gracing mine.  
I needs must say such troubles disagree  
Both with my Genius as well as me.  
Though Poets often sing of Wars, and with  
A mighty verse an Echo seem to give  
To the shrill Trumpet, or the loudest Gun  
That thunder roars, and spreads destruction;  
Yet in a sweet retreat from care and noise,  
They draw those lines that make those Sympathies;  
And though I am no Poet, I confess  
I am enamoured much of Quietness.    

88 To the right honourable Charles Lord Cokaine, Viscount Cullen.  

My Lord, you have an honest Heart, and known  
To be of a most sweet Condition;  
A Grace unto our Family and Name,  
And every where of a most candid Fame:  
This is a truth; but lest you should suppose  
(If I proceed) I flattered, here I close.    

89. An Epitaph on my worthy Cousin German Colonel Michael Stanhope slain at Willoughbie-Fight, and lies buried in the Church there.  

Here Michael Stanhope lies, who fought and died,  
When prosperous fortune left the Regal side:  
He of a dauntless mind by all was known,  
And of a Noble disposition:  
Yet his conditions, and his valiant Heart  
Could not prevail with Death to stay his Dart;  
For here he lies, and doth (by's Fall) express,  
Great Courages do often want Success.    

90. An Epitaph on my dear Cousin German Mrs. Olive Cotton.  

Passenger stay, and notice take of her  
Whom this Sepulchral marble doth inter:  
For Sir John Stanhope's Daughter, and his Heir  
By his first wife, a Berisfored lies here.  
Her Husband of a Noble house was▪ one  
Every where for his worths beloved, and known.  
One only Son she left; whom we presage  
A grace t'his family, and to our age.  
She was too good to live, and young to die,  
Yet stayed not to dispute with destiny;  
But (soon as she received the summons given)  
Sent her fair Soul to wait on God in Heaven.  
Here, what was mortal of her turns to dust,  
To rise a Glorious Body with the just.  
Now thou may'st go: But take along with thee  
(To guide thy Life and Death) her Memory.    

91. To my Cousin German Mr. John Stanhope of Elveston.  

When in an Epigram I did salute  
Your other brothers, and of you was mute,  
The reason was because I did not know  
Whether that then you were alive or no.  
Your safety I congratulate, and wish  
You a long Life of as long happiness.  
This Tribute of my Love to you I give,  
Under the Honour of your Name to live.    

92. Of Caesar and Cleopatra.  

Great Caesar's vaunt is known to all, who said,  
That he did come, looked on, and conquered:  
But when to Egypt he did come from Rome,  
And saw the Queen, he then was overcome:  
But (to prove rather he was not beguiled)  
Her he o'ercome; for he got her with child.    

93. An Epitaph on my most honoured Kinsman Colonel Ralph Sneyd, who died in the Isle of Man about the 40th year of his Age.  

Here lies a body that gave Lodging to  
A Soul as noble as the world did know;  
It was well-organed, handsome, manly, and  
Of equal structure to the best o'th' Land:  
Yet was unworthy of the Soul was given,  
And therefore died cause that fled back to Heaven.  
Here Colonel Ralph Sneyd doth lie; In brief  
The joy of mankind living, now the grief.    

94. Of Slander.  

To speak too well of thousands safer is  
Then of one single Person once amiss;  
Happy is he therefore whose wary tongue  
Wisely refrains to do another wrong.    

95. To Elveston a Town in Darbyshire.  

Dear Elveston, that art a grace  
Unto the Shire where I was born;  
And Elveston, that art the Place  
Where first I did salute the Morn;  
The noble Stanhopes are thy praise,  
Whom thou afford'st a birth, and Urn:  
And may they flourish there always  
Till th'world to Chaos doth return.    

96. Of Venice, Translated out of Sannazarius.  

Viderat Adriacis Venctam Neptunus in undis  
Stare urbem, & toti ponere jura mari:  
Nunc mihi Tarpejas quantum vis, Jupiter, arces  
Ob●ice, & illa tui maenia Martis, ait  
Si pelago Tibrim praefers, urbem aspice utramque  
Illam homines dices, hanc posuisse Deos.   

Englished.  

In Adriatic Waters Neptune saw  
Venice, that lays on the whole Sea a Law:  
Object Tarpejan Towers, Jove, whilst thou wilt,  
He said, and walls by thy Mars Offspring built,  
Preferrest thou Tiber! view both towns, and th'ods,  
And thou wilt yield men that made, this the Gods.     

97. Of the Gratuity given the Poet.  

The noble Senate for the fair renown  
(From his immortal pen) fixed on their town,  
Crowned (with six thousand crowns) the Poet's wit;  
‛ Would I had half so for translating it.    

98. Of Women.  

The tree a Grace to Eden did appear,  
Yet was prohibited our Parents there:  
So Women as earth's glories we esteem,  
And yet how mch are we forbidden them!  
It pleases Heaven to keep us all in awe  
(To try our duties) by a rigid Law.    

99 Of the same.  

In Paradise a Woman caused all  
The ruin of mankind by Adam's fall:  
What wonder then if they o'ercome us here  
When weare more weak, and they perhaps as fair?    

100 An Epitaph on Mr. John Fletcher, and Mr. Philip Massinger, who lie buried both in one Grave in St. Mary Overie's Church in Southwark.  

In the same Grave Fletcher was buried here  
Lies the Stage-Poet Philip Massinger:  
Plays they did write together, were great friends,  
And now one Grave includes them at their ends:  
So whom on earth nothing did part, beneath  
Here (in their Fames) they lie, in spite of death.    

101. Of Augustus Caesar, and Marcus Antonius.  

Augustus was to Ovid too unkind,  
Who him not only banished, but confined  
Him; had the noble Anthony o'ercome,  
He might have led his life, and died in Rome.  
But of these two great Romans this is known,  
Caesar caused others deaths, Marcus his own.    

102. To the Lady Mary Cokaine, Viscountess Cullen.  

Madam, I hear you do intend to grace  
Your Rushed with your presence all this year,  
You cannot honour a more noble Place,  
If you resolve the Country for your Sphere;  
And Lords and Ladies enjoy happiest days  
When in their homes their right Orbs they appear:  
So Stars do glorify Heaven that keep their Orders,  
When Comets do presage ruins and murders.    

103. To the same.  

Madam, I do recant what I have writ,  
As savouring too much of a countrey-wit,  
And I fear Clownishness: for where should your  
Fair Sex live but in London evermore?  
Bright Ladies in the Country, we esteem  
As the Sun shaded by the clouds doth seem;  
So Pearls lie hid in Shells, and Diamonds so  
Upon their solitary Rocks do grow.  
As Stars grace Heaven your beauties do the town,  
Which is the proper Sphere for them to own.  
Hast therefore up; you here will prove a Star  
Of Glory, who move there irregular.    

104. An Epitaph of Colonel Ferdinand Stanhope Son to the Earl of Chesterfield, who was slain about Shelford, and lies there buried.  

Here underneath this monumental Stone  
Lie Honour, Youth, and Beauty all in One:  
For Ferdinando Stanhope here doth rest,  
Of all those Three the most unequalled Test.  
He was too handsome and too stout to be  
Met face to face by any Enemy;  
Therefore his foe (full for his death inclined)  
Stole basely near, and shot him through behind.    

105. To my Wife's Niece Mrs. Elizabeth Peg.  

I thank my Wife for my so near relation  
Unto a mine of virtue of our nation.  
To name your handsomeness I do decline,  
As to tell Ethiopes the Sun doth shine:  
You are as witty as the Lesbian Lass,  
Who the tenth Muse so oft accounted was:  
And chaster than the glorious Roman Dame  
That killed herself for vicious Tarquin's shame.  
Thus I could prosecute your Worths, but know  
Y'had rather Heaven than men should judge you so.    

106. To her Brother Mr. Tho. Peg.  

The various manners you of men have seen,  
And have in divers foreign Cities been;  
And after three years' travel are come home  
From brussels, Paris, and more glorious Rome,  
To fix you here for all your future Life;  
I wish y'a virtuous, rich, young, handsome wife.    

107. To my Wife.  

My Mall, how we desire both to go down,  
And still how business stays us in the town!  
Since Plays are silenced by the Presbyter,  
And Wine is grown so very naught and dear;  
London seems frowning like a Stepdame now,  
That looked before with so serene a Brow.  
Away therefore, and let us hasten home  
To our Love's pledges our dear Mall and Tom.    

108. Of Hubert Wypart.  

Hubert Wypart a Leigios some years since  
My Servant was i'th' Country, and from thence  
Asked leave to go to London to be by  
At a Friend's death of his condemned to die;  
For he (he added) loves me so I know,  
That he three hundred miles and more would go  
To see me hanged; we could not choose but laugh:  
Hubert had leave to go; but's Friend got off.    

109. To Tom Mullins.  

Tom sell good Ale; and since we do thee grace  
To call thy Room Apollo, and the place  
With mirth and jests raise Oracles in, be sure  
Thy drink have strength to make them both endure:  
For it would an Impiety be of thine,  
With base Ale to pollute bright Phoebus' Shrine.  
In lien of Eastern perfumes we will pay  
Sacrifice of Verinas' every day.  
Though we by mighty Liquor fall sometime,  
'Tis accidental, and a generous crime;  
A fate that upon strictest Friends awaits,  
When those that drown themselves in brooks,  
Heaven hates.    

110. To his Wife.  

What Vulcan's wife sell Ale! Thanks Venus for't;  
The Goddess though did use another Sport.  
Bess, since thou likewise art a Black-smiths wife,  
Imitate somewhat the Cyprian Queen in life.  
But thou art old, and honest: therefore get  
A young Wench to fill drink that may be fit.  
But thou too much of virtue hast; therefore  
Sell Noble Sack, and we will ask no more.    

111. An Epitaph on Mr. Isaac Coe who died about the 40th year of his Age.  

Here Master Isaac Coe of Lincolns-Inn,  
A Glory to that house, and to his kin,  
Doth buried lie; which Loss we needs must mourn,  
And pay our tears as Tribute to his Urn:  
But how can we call this his Sepulchre,  
Whom all his Friends do in their hearts inter?    

112. To Zoilus.  

Zoilus, thou sayest my Epigrams are worse  
Than any that thy Censurer did curse:  
Zoilus, I am of thy Opinion too;  
And therefore (pray thee) make no more ado.    

113. Of Lupa  

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten  
Have lain with Lupa, and all lusty Men,  
Such as their Boasts of strength in each place tell.  
Yet none of them could make her Belly swell.  
But Lupa vaunts of this; that she doth hate  
Her Belly should confirm what Men do prate.  
A slanderous tongue oft Innocence traduces;  
But when the Belly tells, farewell Excuses.    

114. Of Cloe.  

One, two, three, four, five▪ six, seven, eight, nine, ten,  
Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen Men  
Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, and nineteen more  
Cloe hath tempted to make her an whore.  
Count how many she hath wished she had lain under,  
And you will find it come t'a pretty number.  
Yet none of them have ever known her bed;  
For Cloe still retains her Maidenhead.  
Sure she's unhandsome then! No; she's a Lass  
As beautiful as ever Helen was.  
She is observed by so wary spies,  
That hitherto she could not play her Prize:  
But twenty t'one erelong she'll find a time  
To cheat their eyes, and perpetrate her Crime.    

115. Of the Thames.  

Some gallant Rivers do neglected run,  
And have no viewers but the constant Sun,  
The solitary Moon, and Beasts that by  
Their hollow banks do feed themselves to die:  
Whilst upon Thames, the Glory of our Isle,  
Fair Towns, and Palaces, and Castles smile:  
But above all London (that doth embrace  
Those sprightly streams) affords the chiefest grace.  
'Tis well it is so big; or else this Town  
(Would in the Beer that's drunk) soon quaff it down▪    

116. To my fellow Traveller Mr. Maurice La Meir, alias Ardenville.  

How many Cities have we seen, together?  
But now I wish we might seen one another.    

117. To Porphyrius.  

Porphyrius! that is enough to tell,  
He that doth all things ill doth nothing well.  
An Epigrams is too short for such a matter,  
His faults but touched at brief deserve a Satire;  
And as an expert Archer hits the white,  
So on the Black his Poet needs must light.    

118. His Mistress.  

She is his own, and he is happy much,  
Because besides himself none doth her touch:  
But 'tis not for respect to him, or her;  
For she's so foul all men do her abhor.  
She constant is to him against her mind,  
And he t'her, 'cause he can no other find.    

119. Their Marriage.  

A wedding solemnised, because none else  
Would court them to divide them from themselves:  
And it is fit they should be married, when  
None else will have that Woman, or Woman Man.  
The beasts are coupled; and 'twill be no wonder,  
If like beasts they agree, or part asunder.    

120. An Epitaph on Mr. Humphrey Cumberford who died in Tamworth about the 34th year of his age, and lies there buried.  

Here Master Humphrey Cumberford doth lie,  
Who was a Man of truth, and honesty.  
A Lady Knighted him (to his good fate)  
Whose Honour so scaped nulling by the State.  
Beloved he was by all of every sort,  
From Bess of Bow-Mill to the very Court.  
He died a maid, or (if he did do ill)  
'Twas not his Nature, but against his will.  
But let him rest in peace; and may we all  
Wish, we may die as well when death doth call.    

121. To Clarinda.  

That Lent is sweet, devout Clarinda says,  
And why? she feeds on sweetmeats most those days.  
But pardon me that thus traduce your merit;  
You keep the flesh low to advance the Spirit.    

122. To my Book.  

Go trivial Book, and when thou art abroad  
Be humble where thou findest a kind abode.  
If at thy errors any smile, give way,  
It is not handsome in thee to gainsay.  
They gave some money for thee; and 'tis fit  
That (for their money) they some laughter get.     

EPIGRAMS The second Book.  

1. To the Fellow-Commoners of Trinity College in Cambridge.  

GEntlemen, in my youth I spent some years  
Within your walls; but few, it plain appears  
By this poor Book, which I an offering make  
Unto you, for your recreations sake:  
Not that I do presume that you may find  
Any thing in it worth your eyes, or mind;  
But that the view of these slight toys may raise  
You to accomplish works deserving praise.  
When you have laughed enough at these, pray take  
(Each of you) Pen in hand, and better make:  
Which would a noble emulation prove,  
And (from our rank) an Obloquy remove.    

2. To the Reader.  

Reader, (because I would escape the fury  
Of all thy Tribe, the grand, and petty Jury  
That sit on Books, and Wits) I do profess  
Although this Book be small, the Wit in't 's less.  
Having thus censured it, I need not fear  
What others say, or wish them to forbear.  
Why should you read it therefore, you exclaim?  
Because y'ave bought it read it o'er for shame.    

13. To Mr. Tho. Harper a Printer.  

You Printers, and the Stationers do raise  
Unto yourselves a fame, if not a praise:  
For be the Author what he will, you give  
Stamps of your Names on's Book, and with him live.  
But if Erratas you prevent, you raise  
Not only to yourselves a Fame, but praise.    

4. Of Virgil.  

Wherefore should Virgil wrong the Carthage Queen?  
Was it through Ignorance, or out of spleen?  
If he unwittingly eclipsed her Glory,  
The ablest Poet was unskiled in Story:  
If he through malice taxed her with such guilt,  
It was 'cause she Rome's dreaded rival built.  
But he might think (though her he did debase)  
To be in his Lines any thing was Grace.    

5. To Mr. Bryan Cokaine.  

Cousin, I hope each Star when you was born,  
Did Heaven with a benign aspect adorn:  
And every glistering jewel of the sky  
Dispense their Good to your Nativity.  
You being sweet-conditioned, having moved  
All men to honour you (so well beloved)  
Nobly descended, bred to all the Arts  
That give a man renown for worthy parts;  
To a great fortune heir, and a brave seat,  
(For what then Rushton can be held more sweet!)  
Married to a fine Lady, the first day  
Of her youth's spring (whose ripe and flourishing May  
Of Beauty, still is years to come; yet she  
Handsome as fancy can think woman t'be)  
Inheritrix unto a grand estate,  
(And yet her excellent virtues far more great)  
We needs must guests the Heavens your friend, and know  
(Y'ave so much Land upon't) the earth is so.    

6. To Mrs. Elizabeth Cokaine, his Lady.  

Hail Maid, and wife! But (Cousin) I wish you  
Had changed that name (were older) for a new.  
But this is not enough without another:  
I wish you quickly too an happy Mother.  
Rushton and Roster both expect you should  
Unite them strictlier by so great a good:  
Cokaines and Trenthams then their joys will tell;  
So till a Christening come (Cousin) Farewell.    

7. To my honest kinsman Mr. John Cokaine.  

When at your Pigeon-house we meet sometime  
(Though bawling Puritans call it a Crime)  
And pleasant hours from serious thoughts do steal  
With a fine little glass, and temperate Ale,  
Talk of Sir Cokaine, and how near  
He was allied to Will the Conqueror,  

* Attested by the same Mr. John Cokaine of Rushton, my Lord's Cousin German, who had an ancient evidence to prove it.  Lived in his reign at Henningham Castle, and  
That lately there his Bow and Arrows did stand,  
That there his Sword and Buckler hung, and that  
(If they have scaped these Times) theyare all there  
Some fall asleep because healths are but few, (yet;  
And care not for such Tales though ne'er so true.  
So as (through too much drink) we see sleep come  
On others, it for too little falls on some.    

8. To Dulcinea.  

Dulcinea (it seems) bears me a grudge  
Cause of my Love to her I talk so much.  
To love, and have no vent at all, would break  
An heart, therefore give Lovers leave to speak,  
But be appeased (fair Maid) for I'll be sworn  
I love thee virtuous, vicious O thee should scorn.    

9 To Sir Robert Brett.  

Sir, that your Lady Cousin-german is  
Unto my wife (and yet I boast of this)  
Is not my amplest glory; I rejoice  
That to the world your friendship I may voice.    

10. To Mr. George Porter.  

Whether in one that I affect above  
Others, I honour should or friendship love,  
Is now become my doubt; but soon I shall  
(By contemplating you) o'ercome it all.  
What is another's Honour unto me,  
If our affections want a Sympathy?  
And how can any friendship have a stamp  
Of worth upon it, that doth Honour want?  
Honour and friendship should Concomitants be,  
And (in as near relation) should agree,  
As Light doth with the Sun; for Honour doth  
Keep friendship from all flaws; they both seem both.  
The grand example of your excellent parts  
(The wonder, and delight of noble hearts)  
Honour and friendship (to their splendid height)  
Do in all great and generous souls unite.  
Malice itself no stain can tax you with,  
But that unto me you your friendship give:  
And (Sir) I am so proud on't, that I must  
Unto your mighty merit be unjust;  
(In this let envy censure how it will)  
Pray honour me with your fair friendship still.    

11. To Mr. Richard Grey of Adderston, my worthy kinsman.  

Sir, you Platonics do defend too much,  
And I guess talking so may make you such:  
Yet 'tis not in your nature, I suppose;  
For something you may love besides their clothes,  
Their conversation, and their virtues in  
The tender female Sex: but you have been  
So long a champion for Platonic love,  
That you conceit it a disgrace to move  
From your aerial tenants; pray you leave  
This argument, and all their hopes deceive,  
That gape after your wealth when you are gone;  
Marry a wife, and leave it to your own.  
But (if your humour you resolve shall last)  
Make me your heir, and all my trouble's past.    

12. An Epitaph on my Noble Cousin Mr. Edward Reppington, who deceased about the 24th year of his age, and lies buried in Tamworth.  

Stay, whosoever thou art that passest by,  
And notice take who here entombed doth lie:  
For Edward Reppington (the hopes, and heir)  
Of Ammington and Adderston lies here.  
He was a Gentleman of so much worth,  
That he hath left few equals on the earth;  
As early Fruit for Princes got, even so  
(Being ripe for Heaven) he hence so young did go.  
The Reppingtons, and Seabrights should rejoice  
For giving being to such ex'lencies;  
Although (through Nature's weakness) they yet mourn  
That's mortal part is fallen into his Urn:  
They that would be beloved as he, must grow  
In virtue as in years; think on't, and go.    

13. Of Men.  

How rude is mankind grown! savager far▪  
And more inhuman than the brute beasts are!  
When our first great Grandsire enjoyed the joys,  
The walks, and Groves of glorious Paradise,  
When in the State of Innocence he stood,  
(That little while he was completely good)  
And ere his beauteous Mate was made, He then  
Was King of beasts, and not a King of men.    

14. To Robert Shotwall of Ashbourne.  

Robin, thy Ale, and company are both  
So good, that I to leave thee oft am loath.  
But yet thy Bill for Boots and Shoes forgi'me;  
And then (I'll promise) you shall oftener see me.  
For then to spend I should have so much more  
Which should be yours; So I would quit my score.    

15. Of Rome.  

Rome! once the conquered worlds great Head, and yet  
The Queen of Cities, and deserving it,  
Thy ruins are more glorious to behold  
Than our new Palaces glittering with gold  
And richest Tapestry: thy Statues broke,  
Thy Amphitheatres half fallen, the stroke  
Of Time upon thy Obelisques, and  
Decays of Emperors; Terms do command  
A reverence from our eyes; Each step in thee  
Puts us in mind of some Antiquity.  
Triumphant Arches (though half buried) show  
Which way victorious Caesar's once did go.  
This was the earth's Metropolis; In it  
Historians, Orators, and Poets met  
From all the Provinces; and herein they  
Wore many a day and many a night away  
In frolic Banquets, made Suburra own  
More joys then on Olympus e'er were known.  
But various plenty of delicious Wine  
Completes thy Praise, and makes an end of mine.    

16. Of women's Clothes.  

The gentle female Sex that doth affect  
Liberty so, doth liberty neglect:  
For (for the fashion's sake) they are content  
Their clothes should be their strict Imprisonment.    

13. Of Cupid.  

Beauty is but opinion of the Liker;  
And Cupid's no good archer, but a striker.  
His rage he strangely doth employ, and parts  
(At random carelessly) with all his darts;  
And all these mischiefs, and these miseries  
We do impute unto his want of eyes:  
But we may bless our fates that he is blind;  
Else war (for beauty) would destroy mankind.    

18. Of Galla.  

Galla hath still her maidenhead; And why?  
She is unhandsome, and her price too high.  
Yet she would fain be rid of it; but none  
Will pay so dear, therefore 'tis still her own.  
So (although her desires be thus unjust)  
Her covetousness doth overpoise her lust.    

19 Of Bettina.  

Ever to love a Lass so fair as she  
Loseth no judgement, but doth settle me  
In an opinion, that I would have no  
Zeal in affection, but for her, to show.  
All men admire her much who ever yet  
Beheld her face: And shall I wrong my wit  
Expressly to declare I like her not,  
To whom I owe as much as I have got?  
Have I my Senses? I can try no way  
But by approving her; my eyes survey  
All Objects, but like none like her; my ears  
Receive no Music like her voice: her tears  
Compose the purest Nectar: her soft touch  
Lends torn Prometheus' ease; and body such  
A perfume doth evaporate, that she  
Yields choicer sweets then in Arabia be.    

20. To the same.  

Although, Bettina, I professed deep Love  
Unto you, in the Epigram above,  
Mine was no want on flame; though I admired  
Your beauties, I fruition ne'er desired.  
All your discourse was of such pretty stuff,  
That I (methoughts) could never hear enough:  
Your conversation did my motive prove;  
So mine a friendship was, and not a Love.    

21. Of the River Cham.  

Why crooked Cham's dull streams so slowly move,  
It is, cause it with Cambridge is in love?  
Poor river! thy Amours as vain decline,  
For water Scholars care not for, but wine.    

22. To my ingenuous Friend Mr. Alexander Brome on his Essay to translate Lucretius.  

I know a Lady that hath been about  
The same design, but she must needs give out:  
Your Poet strikes too boldly home sometimes,  
In genial things, t'appear in women's rhimes,  
The task is masculine, and he that can  
Translate Lucretius, is an able man,  
And such are you; whose rich poetic vein,  
And general Learning perfectly can plain,  
And smooth your Author's roughnesses, and give  
Him such a robe of English as will live,  
Out-wear, and all such works exceed, and prove  
This Nations wonder, and this nations Love.  
Therefore proceed, (my friend) and soon erect  
This Pyramid of our best Dialect.    

23. To my dear Cousin-germen Mrs. Anne, Mrs. Elizabeth, Mrs. Phillipia, and Mrs. Dorothy Stanhope, Sisters.  

Lincoln was, London is, and York shall be  
The most renowned City of the three,  
Is an old saying: but I now must tell  
Limby (near Nottingham) doth all excel:  
Where live four Stanhopes of the female Sex,  
Who (to produce them equals) would perplex  
The Land; to which (for all things highly good)  
They the best pattern may be understood.  
My sweet, fair Cousins! all the world's four parts  
(By Imitation of your rare deserts)  
May grow in virtue; you a mirror be,  
Where what they should be womankind may see.    

24. To my Uncle (in law) Mr. Richard Sutton.  

When you and I meet Master Bancroft, we  
Envy no mirth of any Company:  
We all love cordially; his Wit and Sack  
Make us enjoy ourselves and nothing lack.  
We Covetousness despise and, cares let fly  
In Spanish smoke, and consecrate to joy  
The hours we spend; and when Sol leaves the skies  
Drink our next merry meeting, and so rise.    

25. Of Ashborn.  

Ashborn (where many years our Cokaines name  
Hath been (as Cambden tells us) of some fame)  
Though in the Peak thou standest, thy fertile ground  
(That like a Lover doth embrace thee round)  
The Meadows needs not envy, which the Thames  
Saluteth (in his passage) with his streams.  
The banks of Dove we think we do abuse,  
If unto those compared, of Yorkshire Ouse.  
Our fruitful soil we do prefer to that  
Which holy Dee so long hath murmured at,  
For not affording him a speedier way  
To pay his waves to the Virginian Sea.  
Severnes and Trent's it envies not and thence  
We do conclude yields none preeminence▪  
If I commend too much, 'tis not a skill  
I would profess, but only my good will:  
Yet other praises I (to this) could join;  
If Betty Sheepy would draw better wine.    

22. To Mrs. Elizabeth Sheepy of Ashbourne.  

Betty, your wine is good: and yet we know  
You may get better; which we pray you do.  
Our Countrey-wits would then leave clubbing  
In Darby-Ale, and change their penny-Pots (groats,  
Into fine Venice-glasses (sparkling full)  
Of generous Sack, and be more bountiful.  
Your Talbot then would roar, and Poets sing  
That there did run the true Castalian spring.  
Your husband honest Tom (that's sick) it would  
Recover soon, and make him live t'be old.  
Get therefore (Betty) the best wine you may:  
And we will style you our Mnemosyne.    

23. To my dear Cousin Germane Mrs Stanhope, and Mrs. Isabel Hutchinson; Sisters.  

Let others praise Nottingham for the Site,  
The River Trent, and prospects of delight,  
Mortimer's Cave, and (now) the ruin sad  
Of one of the best Castles England had:  
I say that you two are the chiefest grace  
(By living there) that doth adorn the place.    

24. To Mr. John Young, of the Bear in Powlesworth.  

Though Puritan on in their grumble go,  
Be merry Master Young, whilst you are so.  
What though their senseless zeal bark at your Bear?  
If the Bandogs venture to come so near,  
Keep such strong drink shall take them by the Crown,  
And pluck the hypocrites of Piety down.  
Making them do homage unto your sign,  
And think it (though an Image 'tis) divine.    

29. Of Men and Women.  

Whilst Monuments of Brass and Marble stand,  
Whilst Ships do grace the Seas, and City's Land,  
And Men do walk upon the Terrene Ball;  
So sure (undoubtedly) will women fall.  
Yet let not this the females only tax,  
Men fall on them that fall upon their backs.    

32. To Mr. Ralph Rawson lately fellow of Brazen Nose College.  

Though I of Cambridge was, and far above  
Your Mother Oxford did my Cambridge love;  
I those affections (for your sake) remove;  
And (above Cambridge) now do Oxford love:  
But I recant that change, and say where e'er  
You live, that a third Academie's there.  
You conquer humane passions, and enshrine  
All virtues that the Schools did ere define;  
And to such height master all learned Arts,  
That I know none your equal for all Parts:  
Therefore what place soever you shall please  
To grace with your abode on Lands or Seas,  
(Although in frozen Thule) I far above  
My Cambridge, and your Oxford shall it love.    

31. To my most honoured Cousin the Lady Mary Fitzherbert of Tissington.  

Madam, the Peak is famous far and near  
For a great many wonders that are there;  
Pooles-Hole, the Devil's Eldenhole, the well  
That ebbs and flows, make Darbyshire excel▪  
The sandy hill that ever falls away  
And yet (in bulk) doth suffer no decay:  
And Burtons' Baith (though in a village town)  
Abroad our County give a fair renown.  
These and the like do far and near invite  
Strangers, and natives to delight their sight.  
But these are Grotts, Waters, and Hills, and such  
As we have one that doth exceed them much:  
Your beauties, and your many virtues speak  
You the chief Wonder that doth grace the Peak.    

32. Of Naples.  

Naples the Romans old Parthenope.  
(Built under Hills, upon the Midland-Sea)  
Thou to Compania (most delicious Part  
Of Italy) the primest Glory art.  
The Princes, Dukes, the Counts and Barons that  
(In great abundance) there do make their seat,  
And flourish in all joys this Life can grant  
To humane kind, others I leave to vaunt:  
Above all things that honour't I prefer  
The all renowned Virgil's Sepulchre;  
And think that Virgil dead gives more renown,  
Then all those Lords alive, unto that Town.    

33. Of Wakes, and Maypoles.  

The Zelots here are grown so ignorant,  
That they mistake Wakes for some ancient Saint,  
They else would keep that Feast; For though they all  
Would be called Saints here, none in heaven they call:  
Besides they Maypoles hate with all their Soul,  
I think, because a Cardinal was a Pole.    

34. An Epitaph on Mr. Will. Davenport, a Cousin-German of my wives, who died at Henbury his own house in Cheshire, and lies buried by his wife at Dubridge in Derbyshire; he being aged about 29.  

Here William Davenport lies, and (Stranger) know  
That he was high in worth that lies so low.  
He had a noble soul, and liberal mind,  
A generous courage, and behaviour kind;  
Sir Thomas Milwards daughter was his wife,  
Whom he survived, and led a widowers life.  
Our age was proud of him, though (in his prime  
Of years) Death gave a Period to his time:  
He left two Daughters, and a spotless fame,  
Which evermore shall wait upon his Name.    

35. To justice Would be.  

That you are vexed their Wakes your neighbours keep,  
They guess it is, because you want your sleep:  
I therefore wish that you your sleep would take,  
That they (without offence) might keep their Wake.    

36. To Mrs Elizabeth Spencer.  

Hail beauteous Virgin! you whose glorious hair  
Justly with Ariadne's may compare:  
Whose eyes are Globes of purest fire, whence flashes  
Th' enamoured Nation soon would burn to ashes,  
Did not your mighty modesty delight  
(With their fair lids, and veils) to cloud their sight.  
Your features are such wonders, they can find  
No Parallels throughout all Womankind.  
How fine your hands are! And how sweetly they  
Command the Lutes delicious Harmony!  
Your Figure with your Form so right agrees,  
That you are Nature's exquisitest Piece.  
Pretty ones we your feet must guests to be,  
That toots are unto such a graceful Tree;  
Whose leaves your clothes are & conceal such things  
As would in Queens raise envy, Flames in Kings.  
Your own affection cause of fruit must prove,  
Which yet none of our sex could ever move.  
You are all fair without, and sure within  
Your fairer soul's a glorious Cherubin:  
He of mankind will lead the happiest life,  
Whom you shall honour to become his wife.    

37. Of Pope Urban the Eight.  

When I in Rome made some abode, I oft  
Urban the Eight beheld, and often laughed  
To think how here our Zelots bawld him down,  
And Preached him for the whore of Babylon;  
He seemed a gallant Prince, and they that look,  
May find him a fine Poet by his book.  
Though bawds have sometimes beards; none sure did see  
A Woman ere have such a beard as he.  
But they were more mistaken in their speeches,  
Tho, virtuous women may, whores wear no breeches:  
Besides, no wencher would bestow a doit  
To lie with such an whore a winter's night.    

38. To those Preachers.  

My friends, I wish you would forbear your running  
After this whore; and henceforth show your cunning  
(Leaving this subject, to no purpose vexed)  
To follow in the lieu of it your text.    

35. To Parissus.  

Sir, I conceive that you are in the List  
Of those that think the Pope is Antichrist:  
Could you get one of them with child, alone  
It should be you that made the true Pope joan.    

40. To the Popes.  

Princes you are, have Dukedoms, two, or three;  
I wish you would give one of them to me:  
But that were to rob Peter to give Paul,  
Or rather to rob both of them for Saul:  
For I a Layman am, and (which is worse)  
I think a Poet, by my empty purse.    

41. To my wife on the birth of her daughter Isabel.  

I in this second Daughter wish you joy,  
Yet should have had more, had it been a Boy.  
Girls are (by far) more chargeable; And (when  
Boys are grown up) less care will serve for Men.  
You say a Nun you mean her: such another  
(I think) you do intent as was her mother.  
But whether she live Maid, or prove a wife,  
I wish her a long, healthful, happy life.  
So I do leave you with your new Delight,  
Till you and I do meet again at Night.    

42. Of our Lady of Loretto.  

I have been at Loretto, and did there  
See the famed House, which I'll not argue here;  
Do only wish (when I from Earth remove)  
That I may see where she abides above.    

43. An Epitaph on Mr. Thomas Pilkington, one of the Queen's Musicians, who died at Wolverhampton about the 35 year of his age, and lies there buried.  

Music's prime Master of our Land, this stone  
Covers; For here lies matchless Pilkington:  
He was the soul of Music, did contain  
All sorts of it in his harmonious brain.  
A strange malignant Fever set a strife  
Between his soul and body; ceased his Life.  
So with his soul the soul of Music fled,  
Leaving that Science fainting, though not dead.  
Though oft his work was playing, it was such,  
As all Musicians cannot do so much  
With all their works. In brief, the richest Part,  
The best Epitome of all that Art  
And choicest Music (that ere ravished ear)  
(Put out of tune by death) lie buried here.    

44. To Zoilus.  

Zoilus reports never a line I write  
Deserves t' appear before a wiseman's sight:  
Zoilus, at this I nothing do repine;  
But say (thou being a Fool) theyare fit for thine.    

45. An Epitaph on my dear sister Mrs. Lettuce Armstrong, who deceased about the 43 of her age, and of Mrs. Lucy Cokain, who died about the 34 of hers, and lie both buried at Ashborn.  

Lettuce and Lucy here (two sisters) lie,  
So constant to each others company,  
Death could not part them long; for four years' space  
Reduced them both to this Sepulchral place.  
There was no difference 'twixt them all their Life,  
Save one lived single, th' other was a Wife.  
They both were virtuous; left this world behind  
In hope the Glories of the next to find.  
Their Coffins lie so very close, it doth  
Appear, as if one Grave contained them both:  
As their loves did unite them; so the stone  
That both of them doth cover, is but one:  
And (more to show their mutual hearts) it hath  
For both (upon it) but one Epitaph.    

46. To my Cousin Mr. Thomas Cokaine of Manciter.  

You boast your Manciter was once a Town  
(When here the Romans governed) of Renown:  
That Aderston from Ruins of it grew  
To be so spacious, and so fair of view.  
I yield unto your Truths, and add one more,  
Aderston drink makes Manciter so poor.    

47. Upon the Marriage of Mr. Edward Tilsly, and Mrs. Anne Fleetwood.  

So all your fears are past; you both are sped,  
And have no trouble but to go to bed:  
Where (what young married couples love the best)  
I wish you a good night with little rest.    

48. Of Vesuvius.  

I on the top have of Vesuvius been,  
There laid me down upon my breast, and seen  
Into the mighty Rupture, whence the smoke  
Proceeds, that often seems the skies to choke:  
Torre de Guego dined at, which I found  
(With that Hills scalding streams) much burnt and drowned.  
As with (their quarries) Hills build Cities, so  
They (with their vomits) them may overthrow,    

49. Of George Buchanon.  

Buchanons' oaths at Murries service were;  
What he would say audacious George would swear.  
Poet's would lie I've heard, but never one  
That would forswear himself but Buchanon;  
Yet he a famous Poet was: what though?  
Serpent's may lurk in flowers of fairest show.    

50. To Mrs. Anne adam's, my mother's Cousin-german  

Whilst you the generous Trenthams' name enjoyed,  
And knew not what it was to be a Bride;  
You in delicious Brussels wore away  
Most of your virgin-years beyond the Sea,  
There you did think to lead a single life;  
But thanks to john that won you to his wife.  
Who (when you did return to England) found  
That way to fix you on your native ground:  
For you together live, as if heaven meant  
To make you (though not richest) most content.    

51. To my highly honoured Cousin-German, Mr. Arthur Sanhope, son to the Earl of Chesterfield.  

I do rejoice at the respect you bear  
To Bretby, by your choice of living there:  
My Lord so great a house kept, that by none  
(Of all our Noblemen) he was outgone:  
And you so neatly and gently live,  
That all that know you Commendations give.  
If my Lord Stanhope comes, and you remove,  
May you be followed by all good men's love;  
That (wheresoever you live) there may be seen  
No change, but alteration of the Scene.    

52. To Mrs. Elizabeth Kendal, my wife's Niece.  

Twycross I cannot choose but envy, where  
Such ravishing Music is, and I not there.  
You, and your sister Frank Peg every day  
So rarely sing, that wondering Queens would stay  
(To listen to your Lays) from any sport,  
And prize (that while) your house above a Court.    

35. To Mr. Humphrey Mosley, and Mr. Humphrey Robinson.  

In the large book of Plays you late did print  
(In Beaumont's and in Fletcher's name) why in't  
Did you not justice? give to each his due?  
For Beaumond (of those many) writ in few:  
And Massinger in other few; the Main  
Being sole Issues of sweet Fletcher's brain.  
But how came I (you ask) so much to know?  
Fletcher's chief bosom-friend informed me so.  
Ith'next impression therefore justice do,  
And print their old ones in one volume too:  
For Beaumont's works, & Fletcher's should come forth  
With all the right belonging to their worth.    

54. To my much honoured Cousin Sir Francis Burdet Baronet.  

The honest Poet, Michael Drayton, I  
Must ever honour for your Amity,  
He brought us first acquainted; which good turn  
Made me to fix an Elegy on's urn:  
Else I might well have spared my humble stuff;  
His own sweet Muse renowning him enough.  
In Warwickshire your house and mine stand near,  
I therefore wish we both were settled there;  
So we might often meet, and I (thereby)  
Your excel'nt conversation oft enjoy:  
What good should you get by it? truly none:  
The profit would accrue to me alone.    

55. To Mrs. Anne Gregson of Ashburn.  

YE are good, and great, and had you had some itch  
For wealth, and married God be here, had been rich:  
But money you contemned (it doth appear)  
Content to live a widow by good Beer.    

56. To my sweet Cousin Mrs. Isabel Milward.  

Your noble father Sir john Zouch (when you  
Was very young) occasioned you to view  
Virginia, took you thither, where some years  
You spent, till you had moistened with your tears  
His and your eldest sister Katharine's Tomb,  
Interred so far from Codnor their old home.  
After so sad a loss you thought it time  
To return back unto your native clime,  
Where your (by all men honoured) husband found,  
A richer Prize than all the spacious ground  
Known by Vesputius surname ere did give;  
And may you long together happy live.    

57 An Epitaph on King Arthur.  

Arthur our Worthy, whose grand fame in war  
Shall evermore load Fames triumphant Car,  
This Marble covers; nobler dust than those  
For whom the Pyramids of Egypt rose.  
Had but his life reached out to his intent,  
Queen Artemisia's wondrous Monument  
Had been his Sepulchre, and not his tomb;  
His merits would have rose to such a sum.  
Nothing but treason foul could periodize  
The Progress in his Saxon victories:  
And Glassenbury Abbey loudly boasts  
That it contains the Terror of their Hosts.    

58. An Epitaph on Henry the fourth of France,  

Forbear thy rude approach, bold Passenger:  
Henry the Great, the fourth of France lies here.  
His claim unto that Crown he knew so right,  
That he for it unarmed did often fight.  
The sword of Mars, Minerva's Lance, and Gun  
Of Mulciber fear never made him shun.  
Covered with fire and bullets by his Foes,  
He wore them not as Terrors, but his clothes.  
What Spain, France, and the League could not command  
With their united force, a murderer's hand  
Did perpetrate: Ravilliac struck him from  
The top of all his Glories to his Tomb.  
As the bright Sun (throughout our Hemisphere)  
His course being finished) sets full and clear,  
And the next morn again doth beauteous rise,  
And with his beams decks both the earth and skies:  
So he (after a life triumphant led)  
Did bid the world adieu, and here lies dead:  
And when the last day comes (returned from dust)  
Shall glorious rise, and live among the Just.    

59 Of Fame.  

Fame's a strange Good, and a strange Evil, that  
Doth often give too much, and oft detract;  
And sometimes justice doth, and hits the Mean,  
Avoiding each extravagant Extreme.  
Let us precisely to our duties stick,  
And Fame's worst malice shall not wound to th'quick:  
Or if it gives us that which is above  
Our merits, why such flatteries should we love?  
Doth Fame the virtuous right? 'tis well. We shall  
Else each have's due after his funeral.    

60. An Epitaph on Mr. Ralph Fitzherbert who died at Ashby de la Zouch about the 22 year of his age, and lies there buried.  

Cornet Fitzherbert (who in many a Fight  
Lord Loughboroughs Colours bore in the King's right)  
Lies here interred: His skill in Music gone,  
And his good parts all covered with this stone.  
He was too brave to find an Enemy  
To kill him; and therefore in's bed did die.  
Yet was he young and virtuous: but alas!  
On youth and virtue death no pity has.  
Learn therefore (Reader) that no humane state  
Is safe; and always live prepared for Fate.    

61. Of Death.  

Once born the best must die: why (therefore) then  
Should Death inflict such terror on us men?  
Faint-hearted souls they are that fear to run  
The common Path which there's no hope to shun.  
A Life to Heaven and Earth in justice led,  
Will give us leave to live in no such Dread;  
They that so pass their days, the world shall find  
That they a fair Report do leave behind:  
When those that otherwise do waste their Times,  
Shall fill Posterities mouths with their foul crimes.    

62. To Mrs. Katharin Peg my wife's eldest sister.  

Although this age is against Crosses set,  
I cannot quit me of my Crosses yet:  
But welcome any Cross that comes, we say;  
It may be for our goods another day.  
So let us ever to the Powers divine  
Ourselves, and what belongs to us resign:  
That no Prosperity may be allowed  
So to exalt our minds to make us proud;  
And no Adversity deject us so,  
But patiently we may it undergo.  
Then let our Crosses go, or Crosses come,  
Whilst we can say, the will of Haaven be done.    

63. Of Cambridge and Oxford.  

Cambridge one doth commend, Oxford another,  
And would have one preferred above the other.  
When they are best termed equals: And no other  
Such Foreign Place comes near the one or th'other▪  
This my opinion is: who would an other,  
May leave to trouble me, and ask another.    

64. To Mrs. Elizabeth Nevil, my wife's youngest sister.  

If you at Westow-Lodge do live▪ I there  
Do often wish myself to be so near  
My mother Cambridge: If at Holt you live  
In Leicestershire, I there myself would give  
The Pleasures of that gallant Seat, whose sight  
Affords fine Prospects various in delight.  
Or if you live at Cressing Temple, than  
Thither my wish transporteth me age●;  
Colchester Oysters and Sea-fish invite  
Thither ofttimes my longing appetite.  
But pardon me these vanities: above  
All these, I your sweet conversation love,  
And your good husbands noble Company:  
Those things I talked of, but would these enjoy.    

65. To Parson Dulman.  

Your zealous Ignorance doth oft dispraise  
Our Poets whatsoever that write Plays:  
So small a pittance you of learning have,  
Their worst of Plays doth all your works outbrave;  
And I your zealous ignorance dispraise,  
Telling you famed Nick Machiavil writ Plays.  
But you to write a Play think an offence,  
Is it not worse to preach so much nonsense?    

66. To Mrs Francis Shalcross, and Mrs. Julia Boteler my Niece, on their wedding night.  

To bed (fair bride) your happy groom  
(Full of desire) doth long to come,  
Now lie down by her in a trice;  
Your Genial bed's a Paradise.  
Though she's to lose, you are to get,  
Her Zone untied untiddles it:  
You need not any sweet forbear,  
Both moving in your proper sphere.  
I need not wish you joy; you have  
What Heaven can give, or Lovers crave:  
But truly wish (unto this height)  
It may last both your lives. Good night.    

67. To Captain Mouther.  

I've been importuned by some friends to tell  
How I approve your verses; I say well:  
Nor dare I otherwise that understand  
You have a desperate Courage, heavy hand,  
And a long sword. Those few that do not matter  
The trifle called their lives, may scorn to flatter:  
And so do I, swearing that you write Works  
Will please the Christians, and amaze the Turks.    

69. To Mr. Clement Fisher of Wincott.  

Shakespeare your Wincot-Ale hath much renowned,  
That fo'xd a Beggar so (by chance was found  
Sleeping) that there needed not many a word  
To make him to believe he was a Lord:  
But you affirm (and in it seem most eager)  
'Twill make a Lord as drunk as any Beggar.  
Bid Norton brew such Ale as Shakespeare fancies  
Did put Kit Sly into such Lordly trances:  
And let us meet there (for a fit of Gladness)  
And drink ourselves merry in sober sadness.    

70. To Astrologers.  

Your Industry to you the art hath given  
To have great knowledge in th'outside of heaven:  
Beware lest you abuse that Art, and sin,  
And therefore never visit it within.    

An Epitaph on Mrs. Brigit Allibond, who died at Chenye about the eighteenth year of her age, and lies there buried.  

Here Brigit Allibond doth buried lie;  
Whose too much love occasioned her to die.  
Insatiate thirst of gold! Her Servants friends  
Sent him to travel, and worked ' both their ends;  
There he deceased: which sad news thrust the Dart  
Of death through both her ears into her heart:  
So Love changed Darts with Death, Love too unkind  
To kill the body with the wound o'th' mind.  
Virgin's should mourn her loss; And (by her) men  
May see how Maids beloved can love again.    

72. An Epitaph on Lycisca, who forced her husband to counterfeit his Religion.  

Here lies Lycisca, that was full of Evil:  
And (therefore to be feared) gone to the Devil.  
Now (seeing he and she have set all even)  
Her Husband may walk in the Road to Heaven.    

73. To Mrs. Francis Peg, my wife's Niece.  

You once did think to be a Nun, but now  
I hope you will forbeae that sacred vow;  
And if you will be making vows) pray take  
An husband, and an holy vow him make:  
So whether you become a Nun, or wife,  
(Under a vow) you may lead out your life.    

74. To Mr. Gilbert Knyveton, and Mr. Thomas Knyveton my wife's Brothers.  

Pray take an house, and so continue on  
The hospitality you have begun:  
For of such means none handsomer did live,  
Or to their friends more generous welcome give.  
Though you from Bradley are removed, make known  
To noble minds each Country is their own.    

75. To my sister Mrs. Katherine Weston.  

We were two brothers, and five sisters; now  
They are all dead, alas! save ay, and you:  
All that Affection that among us was,  
Let us therefore on one another place:  
So we (for Brothers, and for sister's love)  
An Emulation shall in others move.    

76. To my Cousin Mr. John Milward.  

Of women some are foul, and some are fair,  
Some virtuous are, and others are as bad:  
Some go in poor apparel, others rare,  
Some melancholy are, and others glad:  
Some are at their prime, others decaying are,  
Some are reserved, and others to be had:  
Some timorous are, any thing others dare,  
Some dull and moped, and others blithe, and mad:  
Some humorous are, others of freaks beware,  
Some love to keep rheir homes, others to gad:  
Some high in virtues do themselves declare,  
Others are overwhelmed in vices sad.  
Ovid would take of all to please his senses:  
Give me a glass of Sack, and choose you wenches.    

77. An Epitaph on Mr. Peter Allibond, Fellow of Lincoln College in Oxford.  

Here buried lies within this hollow ground,  
Oxford's prime glory, Peter Allibond:  
His Learning Lincoln College hath renowned,  
And few the road to his high Parts have found.  
Death in his Proctorship gave him his wound,  
And (thereby) hindered him to go his Round;  
And here hath laid him in a sleep so drowned,  
Not to awake but by th' last trumpets sound:  
From hence then to arise, and to be crowned  
(We hope) with joys, where all joys do abound.    

78. To my Niece Mrs. Isabel Boteler.  

Your sister Julia's married well, and so  
(Sweet Niece) I wish you were disposed of too.  
You the green sickness languish in, and sure  
For that an husband is the proper'st cure.  
What though childbearing pains on women draws?  
Sweetmeats (by th' Proverb) should have sour sauce.    

79. To Mr. Andrew Whitehall.  

You make a Viol speak: your nimble hand,  
That instrument seems only to command.  
How meanly many play! strike so amiss,  
That (at their want of skill) the strings do hiss:  
Like resty horses they false steps do make,  
And the vexed strings with very shame to shake.  
Well tuned that would agree, they wrong so far,  
Their artless violence doth make them jar.  
So they but scrape, abuse the strings, and stick;  
How dull the quickest are to you more quick!  
Some few with their soft hands may please; but you  
Please not alone, but raise amazement too.  
Your fingers on the neck, and hand on Bow,  
The motions of the Intellect outgo.  
Such is your playing: But if you would write,  
How much you Works all mankind would delight!    

80. An Epitaph on my Father Mr. Tho. Cokain, who deceased in London, about the of his age, and lies buried in St. Giles' Church in the Fields.  

Stay Passenger, and read under this stone,  
Here Thomas Cokain lies, Sir Edward's son.  
Mapleton gave him birth; but far from home  
At London he deceased, and this his Tomb  
Too mean a Monument for his great worth;  
But virtue never finds reward on earth.  
He was his family's Heir; but (transitory  
Knowing all terrene wealth) changed his for glory.  
And here his body soft repose doth take  
Till him the Angel's Trumpets shall awake.    

81. Of Cats.  

Two Cats fell out, and one an other slew;  
May all Cats so to one another do:  
Yet I can them endure, would be their friend,  
But that they company so oft offend.    

82. Of the English, Spanish, and French.  

The Spaniards love the English, they them hate;  
The English love the French, and they hate them;  
A strange capriciousness of humane Fate,  
〈◊〉 Nations should affect whom them contemn▪  
Despised Lovers need not to complain,  
Seeing 'tis known whole kingdoms love in vain.    

83. Of the Low Dutch.  

The Belgians hate all but themselves; wherefor  
Because no nation else can them endure.  
What should the reason be of such an hate?  
For aid received they have been so ingrate.    

84. To Isabel Manifold of the Black Swan in Ashb  

Hark Isabel Parker! Isabel Hood! But hold,  
These names might serve were hers not Manifol▪  
Pray answer, were your husband in the grave,  
Soon after would not you another have?  
If other women divers men should use,  
They would disgrace their names for such abuse:  
But (without blushes) you may hear it told,  
That you (of Men) have lain with Manifold.    

85. To the same.  

As great a wonder as black Swans some guess,  
So strange a thing an honest Hostess is.  
It is believed that there no black Swans are▪  
But you are, and are honest, so more rare.    

86. An Epitaph on my most honoured kinsman Ferdinando Earl of Huntingdon, who deceased at his house in Donnington Park about the 48 year of his age, and lies buried at Ashby de la Zouch.  

Here Ferdinando Earl of Huntingdon  
Doth lie interred under this Marble-stone;  
Which will weep drops of dew, if we refrain  
To shed our tears; yet weeping is in vain.  
Nor sighs nor tears will call him from his urn;  
Our griefs then let's to imitation turn.  
Let's emulate his worthy Parts (for such  
His Qualities were) and we shall merit much:  
For each man may report that passeth by,  
Courtesy and good Nature here doth lie.    

87. To Henry Right of the Cock in Poulesworth.  

Harry, what ere thou dost (by day or night)  
(Though it be never so amiss) th' art Right:  
Though some for doing wrong tax thee in spite,  
Contemn their malice; for th' art known t' be Right.  
Let thy Guests sober go to bed, not fight,  
And all thy reckonings be as thou art, Right:  
And lead an upright life, that thou mayst light  
On Heaven at last, and there thou t' be most Right.    

88 Of high-spirited women.  

Neither do husbands heed, nor Heaven above  
(For the most part) high-spirited women love  
Are they in error? through their ignorance,  
And self-opinion they prove seldom Saints.  
And husbands who are tie unto such wives,  
Usually live with them unquiet lives.  
To wed meek women men are most inclined,  
And Heaven itself affects the humble mind.    

89  

In thalamis Regina tuis hac nocte jacerem,  
Si verum hoc esset, Pauper ubique jacet.   

Englished.  

Queen, in your chamber I should lie to night,  
If a poor man lies every where, were right.    

To Sir Robert Hilliard.  

Who made this Distich it is fit I tell,  
Which I have Englished but indifferent well;  
I think Tom Randolph: Pardon what's amiss  
In my translation for my gift of his;  
Whom you and I so well did love and know,  
When Cambridge (for his wit) extolled him so.     

90 To my honoured Cousin Mr. Basill Fitzherbert of Norbury, and his Lady.  

Basill Fitzherbert did jane Cotton wed,  
And she hath blest him with a Son and Heir;  
A Couple fortunate i'th' Genial bed,  
And in all other things an happy pair.  
This is my judgement of your worths, and you  
(By all your actions) confirm it true.    

91. To my noble Cousin Mr. Charles Cotton the younger.  

D' Avila, Bentivoglio, Guicciardine,  
And Machiavil the subtle Florentine,  
(In their Originals) I have read through,  
Thanks to your Library, and unto you;  
The prime Historians of late times; at least  
In the Italian Tongue allowed the best.  
When you have more such books, I pray vouchsafe  
Me their perusal. I'll return them safe:  
Yet (for the courtesy) the recompense  
That I can make you will be only thanks.  
But you are noble-souled, and had much rather  
Bestow a benefit, then receive a favour.    

92. To the same.  

Your Basford house you have adorned much;  
And Bently hopes it shortly shall be such:  
Think on't; and set but Bentley in repair,  
To both those Basfords you will show y'are Heir.    

93. To my honoured friend Mr. Samuel Roper.  

Make Darbyshire by your most able Pen,  
Allow you her obliging'st Countryman;  
From dust and dark oblivion raise her Glories,  
And (from old Records) publish all her stories.  
So you (with Mr. Dugdale) shall remain  
Your Country's honour; other Country's stain.    

94. To Mrs Mary Cokain my eldest daughter.  

Because I fear my fate is not so good,  
To give you such a portion as I would:  
Your Education I intent shall prove  
Some satisfaction to you of my love.  
Music and Dancing I would have you taught,  
And all the skill that is by needles wrought:  
All sorts ofhouswifery that should be done,  
(From your own chamber) to the meanest Room:  
And (to give full perfection) to walk even  
(Whilst here you live) in the right road to Heaven.    

95. To the right honourable the Lord Winfield Cromwell Earl of Arglass, my noble kinsman.  

My Lord, a share y'ave given me in a Grove:  
But how shall I requite so great a Love?  
If ever I (in any of my land)  
Should Gold or silver find, you shall command:  
I hope to get much money by your Lead,  
If store of ore God Plutus there hath hid:  
But should I gain no riches from your ground,  
Yet I may boast that there your love I found.    

96. To my worthy friend Mr. Henry Turville.  

Most of these are too long and naught, 'tis true;  
I wish them faultless both for me and you:  
For I your candour would provoke, not blame,  
And (to myself) acquire some little Fame.    

97. Of Cupid and Marriage.  

Cupid is careless and doth shoot at random,  
Strikes a young man, and oftentimes a Grandam▪  
Yet neither he Physician is, or Surgeon,  
To cure the wounds his senseless Darts do urge on,  
Either by any medicines, or Incision:  
The nuptial bed is Surgeon and Physician.    

97. To Parson Nameless.  

When you do preach of Mountain Ararat,  
And how Noah's floating Ark first stayed thereat;  
Though your loud voice doth fill the sacred house,  
Your Sermon big with mountains drops a Mouse.    

99 To my honoured Cousin Mr. Charles Cotton junior.  

Donne, Suckling, Randolph, Drayton, Massinger,  
Habbington, Sandy's, May, my Acquaintance were:  
johnson, Chapman, and Holland I have seen,  
And with them too should have acquainted been.  
What needs this Catalogue? Th' are dead and gone;  
And to me you are all of them in one.    

100 To Mr. John adam's, my Cousin.  

When we at Pembletous in Roster meet,  
Time that before went slow flies very fleet;  
The reason is, an easy thing to think,  
A knot of Jovial Blades, and mighty Drink.    

101. Of a Room in called the Minerva.  

Approach not you dull souls, that dirt and muck  
Do grovel in; follow your sordid luck:  
Athens no Fame had for mechanic Arts,  
But by those generous spirits of nobler Parts.  
They that are Wits, and love the Wits, may come,  
Converse and tipple in this jovial Room;  
Pallas admits none else: For know, the Owl,  
Her sacred Bird will (at their entrance) howl.  
Herein the Grécian Sages do converse,  
And here the Poets their high lines rehearse.  
Here Tully and Demosthenes do plead,  
And Plato here and Aristotle's read:  
For this the Epitome of Athens is,  
And teaches all the Liberal sciences.  
Such is the companies discourse: Then hence  
All earthen-minded Brats of ignorance;  
And welcome the ingenious to this spring  
That makes the Orator write, and Poet sing;  
To the Philosopher new truths discovers,  
And courage gives to the faint-hearted Lovers.  
To those lets drink (Conversion from their Crime)  
That over Ale and Beer can spend their time,  
That on their Errors they may may turn their back,  
And in Minerva's Fane here tipple Sack:  
For Ale and Beer breed Phlegm, engender Pains;  
But rich Canary elevates the Brains.    

102. To my honoured Friend Mr. Cassevilan Burton.  

Where will you do yourself so great a right  
To let your English Martial view the light?  
You will oblige this Nation by your pains,  
Those ' specially to whom the Latin strange.  
And he (in the Elysian shades) will smile  
To hear he speaks the language of this Isle.    

103. Of Cardinal Bellarmine.  

Of all the writers of the Roman Part,  
Bellarmine, thou the most confuted art:  
How happens thy ill Fortune, that we call  
Thy confutation, if we drink up all?    

104. Of Cornelius Gallus.  

A Poet and a Traitor is such news,  
Mercuries and Diurnals do not use.  
Gallus a Traitor; Gallows a Reward:  
But sure Augustus did not prove so hard.  
He put him to a nobler death we hope;  
Poets should live by linesn, or dye byth' rope.    

105. To Banellus.  

Welcome (good Sir) to truth, and welcome to  
The way to Heaven which you directly go:  
May we your steadfast footsteps follow even,  
And ('tis no doubt) we shall arrive at Heaven.    

106. To Mr. Henry Longville.  

Marvel not (Friend) that oftentimes I write  
As if in drinking I did take delight:  
I (at my best) am ill enough, and hate  
To make myself a Beast at any rate.  
Of Mirth and company I sometimes think;  
The cause that now and then I write of drink.    

107. Of Catullus, Tibullus, and Propertius.  

The ancient Epigrammatist Catullus,  
Propertius, and the amorous Tibullus,  
Are often bound together: what's the reason?  
They all weremerry Blades at every season;  
Whilst they did live they often were together:  
And now th' are dead th' are bound up so in Leather.    

108. To my Son Mr. Thomas Cokaine.  

Let others glory in their Hawks and Hounds,  
Their golden heaps, and Circuit of their Grounds,  
Their gallant Breed of Horses, and their meat,  
Dressed so, that Heliogabalus would eat;  
Their Mistresses (whose Beauties would inflame  
Unknown Lands Savages, and make them tame)  
Themselves, and them so richly dressed, that you  
The Heavens (without a Cloud) would think in view:  
Give me a study of good Books, and I  
Envy to none their hugged Felicity.    

109. To Mr. Daniel Millescent.  

Momus doth carp that I do write so few  
Lines on this Theme, and says th' are not enough:  
I to a hundred thousand write 'tis true,  
And worth so many (for your worths) are you.    

110. To Mr. Robert Creitton Dr. of Divinity, formerly Orator and Greek Professor of the University of Cambridge.  

Among the many friends that I do name,  
Neglected I do mention you, 'twere shame.  
You were my Tutor; and 'tis fit I show  
The world a Part of the Respects I owe:  
Let this poor trifle be an atom of it,  
Although to my disgrace and your no profit.  
Expect from your learned Pupils Works of Art;  
I can present you but a grateful heart.    

111. Of high-spirited women.  

Histories of all ages do declare  
High-spirited women noble things have done:  
One shall serve mentioned in particular,  
And she the brave joeni an Amazon.  
Bonduca long the Romans force withstood,  
And sealed her love t'her Country with her blood.    

112. To Momus.  

Momus doth grumble; Prithee spare me not:  
Th' excception's just thou hast against me got.  
I writ Catullus, and the other two,  
Were all of them Contemporaries, 'tis true:  
Valerius ere they flourished died, I know it;  
Poets may feign, in that hold me a Poet:  
With truth of History I was too bold,  
As men tie knots on Ropes to make them hold.    

113. To Mr. Edmond Ravenhill.  

How in your company I do delight!  
A Pleasure to my ears, as well as sight  
When on the Harpsecals your sister Winifrid  
Doth play, and you upon the Violin;  
I with that music am affected much,  
She plays so well, and eke your Art is such.  
Hast t'us, and when (with playing) you are weary;  
A Bottle of rich sack shall make us merry.    

114. To Anne Hill▪  

Nan Hill, thouart good and great: Think it not better  
To grow up to a Mountain, and be greater:  
With marriage therefore do not be beguiled;  
Y'are made a Mountain if y'are got with child.  
But marry (Nan Hill) if you should grow wanton,  
Rather than to be worse become a Mountain.    

115. To my honoured kinsman Mr. Edward Darcy.  

Repair your house at Newhall, and hast down,  
And leave the noise of this expenceful Town:  
You here deprive yourself of many a good  
To be enjoyed by Countrey-solitude.  
Pretend not want of Company; For I  
Will wait upon you oft, that live thereby.  
You may reply you better would; I grant it:  
Keep a good house there, and you need not want it.    

116. An Epitaph on Mr. Gilbert Knyveston, my wife's Brother, who deceased in London about the 38 year of his age, and lies buried at St. Giles in the fields.  

Stay Passenger, forbear thy haste,  
And read whom Death herein hath placed:  
For Gilbert Knyveston here doth lie,  
A shaking of mortality.  
All Ethics he his practice made,  
On Christian foundation laid.  
His Life was noble, and his Death  
A rich soul did to heaven bequeath:  
His loss we therefore should not mourn,  
But (for ourselves) to sadness turn;  
Lament that we do want so much  
Of those great worths that made him such.  
Let's study him, and imitate so,  
That we may prove like him: Now go.    

117. Of amorous Courtship.  

Men do solicit Women, they contemn,  
(If they are bashful) to importune them:  
Man was made first, and therefore should begin;  
Do Women? They 'gainst Modesty do sin.    

118. Of Katherine Boer.  

A Catholic German knit his angry brow,  
And called Friar Martin Luther's wife a Sow:  
But such his Passion was it did run o'er,  
She could not be a Sow that was a Boar.    

119. Of Puritans.  

Against Saint's Fasts the Puritans do bawl:  
And why? To th' Flesh they are addicted all.    

120. To my brother in law Mr. William Nevil.  

Dare Cambridgeshire, leave off to boast  
Thy University so crossed:  
And Cambridgeshire, forbear to vaunt  
Of Ely, famed for many a Saint;  
And Westow-lodge henceforth let be  
The primest glory that's in thee;  
Where plenty, neatness, and a right  
Well-governed house yield full delight;  
Wherein you and your Lady give  
Example how the good should live.    

121. To Mrs. Alice Nevil, his sister.  

Y'are virtuous, young, and handsome; and I dare  
With Sydneyes' Queen of Corinth you compare.  
Between you I no difference can write;  
But she was slighted, you your servants slight,  
You may relent, and I do hope you will:  
If prayers prevail not, Cupid use thy skill.    

122. To Mrs. An & Mrs. Mildred Nevil his daughters.  

Henceforth our English youth may cease to glory  
In famous Sydney's celebrated story:  
For you two sisters shortly must incite  
Some matchless pen your happy lives to write;  
That unto all this land it may be known,  
Pamela and Philoclea are outgone.    

123. To Paulinus.  

Marry in Lent! 'tis strange; and yet no treason  
You say, although unusual that season:  
Marriage is not, but the solemnisation  
Forbidden then, and y'ave a dispensation.  
The Church hath favoured you; show it your duty,  
And prise 't henceforth above your Lady's beauty.    

124. To my honoured friend Major William Warner.  

Plays, Eclogues, Songs, a Satire I have writ,  
A remedy for those i'th' amorous fit,  
Love Elegies, and Funeral Elegies,  
Letters of things of divers qualities,  
Encomiastic Lines to works of some,  
A Masque, and an Epithalamium,  
Two Books of Epigrams: All which I mean  
Shall (in this volume) come upon the Scene;  
Some divine Poems, which (when first I came  
To Cambridge) I writ there, I need not name;  
Of Dianea neither my Translation,  
Omitted here as of another fashion.  
For heaven's sake name no more you say, I cloy you:  
I do obey you; Therefore (friend) God bye you.    

125. Of this Book.  

This little Work I've done, which time may waste;  
Or Ioves displeasure into darkness cast:  
But I will hope the best, and that it may  
Last (after I am ashes) many a day.    
FINIS.   

EPIGRAMS. The third Book.  

1. To the Gentry of Darbyshire.  

GEntlemen, and my Country men! pray look  
With courteous eyes upon this trivial Book:  
For I present it to you, that it may  
Show my respects to you another day.  
Why to the Lords I write not you inquire:  
I should not be so bold, though I desire.  
But (to avoid prolixity of words)  
Gentlemen they are, though you are not Lords.    

2. To the Readers.  

Two Books of Epigrams I've writ before,  
Yet (Gentle Readers) I present you more:  
Behold the third here offered you; but what  
It will prove, good or bad, I know not yet.  
May it likewise obtain your candour; else  
Henceforth (for me) write Epigrams yourselves.    

3. To the Right Honourable Philip Earl of Chesterfield, Baron of Shelford, etc.  

Philip the second! Earl of Chesterfield!  
I a request have, and I hope you'll yield:  
Yet I (in modesty) long time have stuck  
From making it; And 'tis but for a Buck:  
Bestow one on me, and on this good reason,  
I will not ask again till the next season.    

4. An Epitaph on Elizabeth the Lady Reppington, who deceased at Ammington, about the 50. year of of her age, and lies buried at Tamworth.  

Here underneath this Monumental Stone  
Elizabeth the Lady Reppington  
Doth lie interred: And therefore whosoe'er  
Thou art that passest by, awhile forbear  
Thy haste, and read, and weep; for he's unjust  
Unto the merits of her precious dust,  
That doth not drop his Tears in showers; for she  
Is worthy of eternal Memory,  
Worthy of storms of sighs, Thunder of Groans,  
To mourn her loss with due afflictions.  
The sea-bright family that gave her birth,  
Hath gained thereby a glory on the earth.  
Happy her husband in so good a wife!  
Happy her children to receive a life  
From such a Magazine of worths as she!  
A fair example for Posterity.  
To name her virtues, is to name them all;  
She was their Centre, she their pure Whitehall,  
Their Court, their Palace, where heaven did rejoice  
To see such Cherubims without a vice.  
She was their Paradise, and her bright soul  
The Deity that did command the whole.  
But O! there is another heaven, else sure  
Her soul had never left a place so pure.  
Earth is not the reward for virtue. Look  
Upwards, that's towards her, she is a Book,  
A Directory for thy life; which read,  
And practised, thou wilt be so praised when dead.    

An Epitaph on my honoured Cousin Mr. John Reppington, who deceased at Ammington about the 25 year of his age, and lies buried at Tamworth.  

Here lies john Reppington, that came to be  
(By Edward's death) Heir of his Family:  
As t'him his elder brother did give room,  
So he t' his younger, witness by this tomb.  
He a few weeks after his mother died,  
And of the same (new termed) disease beside;  
So he a most obsequious son was found,  
That waited on his mother under ground.  
He was good natured, bore an honest mind,  
Beloved by all men, and to all men kind:  
And had no foe but death, who (too severe)  
Hath cast an Heir so young and hopeful here.    

6. To Mr. Charles Hutchinson my Cousin German.  

Cousin, I long to see you married well,  
And long (at Rawslison) to see you dwell.  
Then I should oft wait on you, make some stay;  
It being (from Pooly t' Ashburn) in the way.  
So I should make your house mine Inn; what though?  
weare friends, and near a kin: Pray be mine so.    

7. To Mr. Francis Fitzherbert of Lincoln's Inn, my kinsman.  

To love, and not to love; it is all one  
If you do let the Fair beloved alone:  
And to love once, unless you do love ever,  
Is a slight toy, and was an earnest never.  
Therefore (to show you true affection have)  
Your Mistress wed, and love her to the grave.    

8. To Mr. Will. Stanhope the younger my Cousin German.  

Why do you live so long a Bachelor?  
Is it cause you the female sex abhor?  
Or do you fear women are troublesome,  
And therefore loath into their yoke to come?  
If such opinions do your mind enthrall,  
Marry a wife, and she'll confute them all.    

9 Of Quintilla.  

Quintilla talks too much, and why is it?  
Because Quintilla hath but little wit:  
And at each thing she speaks, she doth laugh after;  
A Fool is known by an excess of laughter.    

10. To my mother Mrs Anne Cokain.  

Let none our Ashbourn discommend henceforth;  
Your Gardens show it is a place of worth.  
What delicate Asparagus you have growing there,  
And in how great abundance every year?  
What gallant Apricocks, and Peaches brave,  
And what delicious Nectorins you have?  
What Melons that grow ripe without those Glasses  
That are laid over them in other Places?  
What Grapes you there have growing? and what wine  
(Pleasant to taste) you made last vintage time?  
Plant Vines; & (when of Grapes you have got store)  
Make wine enough, and I will ask no more:  
Then Mr. Bancroft (in high lines) shall tell  
The world, your cellar's Aganippe's Well.    
The rest are to be made.   


Song 1.  

1.  
I Saw a proud fair Lass to day,  
Whose beauties equal those of May:  
She is as sweet as flowers new blown;  
Much pity she should lie alone.  
What would you give to bless your sight  
With such an object of delight?   

2.  
I wondered at her delicate hair,  
Mulciber's Net so soft and rare,  
T' entangle even the Gods above,  
And fill their hearts with gentle love.  
What would you give, etc.   

3.  
I gazed upon her beauteous eyes,  
Love's exquisitest Palaces:  
Wherein as many Cupids be,  
As there are men that dare them see▪  
What would you give, etc.   

4.  
Haet stately forehead was so fair,  
That Iris Arch is no compare:  
Matched only in lame Vulcan's bride,  
Unequalled in the world beside.  
What, etc.   

5.  
Her sweetest Mouth doth far excel  
The Delphian certain Oracle:  
'tis Love's best music, all ears charmer,  
All hearts enthraller, and bloods warmer.  
What, etc.   

6.  
Her pretty hands I did espy,  
Fitter for kisses then an eye:  
They were so small, I cannot look  
For such again but in a book.  
What, etc.   

7.  
Her bosom, Beauty's sweet champain,  
The Poets Elysium I do fain.  
Not white with snow, but a selecter  
Colour, all overstrowed with Nectar.  
What, etc.   

8.  
The two brave Thrones of beauty, her  
Fine admirable Breasts prefer  
Before Olympus, or Mount Ide,  
Where jove most happy might abide.  
What, etc.   

9  
She had her clothes on, and I could  
See no more, but to say am bold,  
That there was too much beauty under  
To be looked on for love and wonder.  
What would you give, etc.    

The second Song.  

1.  
You Ladies fair,  
That worthy are  
Of all to be beloved,  
And yet have hearts  
So hard that darts  
From eyes have never moved.   

2.  
You cruel Saints,  
That slight complaints,  
And scorn to pity any;  
I hope to see  
The time when ye  
Shall be in love with many.   

3.  
Which when I hear,  
Then I will swear  
That you are rightly fitted:  
And that himself  
The little Elf  
On you hath well acquitted.   

4.  
But do your worst,  
I'm not accursed,  
My Mistress is no coy one:  
For she is kind,  
And hath no mind  
Within her to destroy one.    

The third song, being an answer to O no, I tell thee no.  

1.  
Away I say, away,  
I no longer can delay,  
And my heart forbids me stay:  
It swears by thy squint eyes,  
That could never entice  
Foul Porters or Footboys;  
By thy Ruby nose, and lips lily white,  
And thy teeth with yellow dight,  
Near to come, ne'er to come again in thy sight.   

2.  
It swears by thy dried skin  
Thy bosom within,  
And thy paps lank, and thin;  
And by thy dirty golls,  
That be to carry coals,  
And rake dust out of holes;  
By thy beastly form, and thy foul gouty feet,  
That can scarce cross a street,  
Near again, ne'er again thee any where to meet.   

3.  
By my hatred it swears,  
Thy crook-back, and lave-ears,  
Thy threescore and odd years,  
By thy breath that is  
So strong, that (with a kiss)  
It would kill a Cockatrice.  
By my last farewell, this kick on thy breech,  
And thy old salt Itch,  
Near to see, ne'er to see thee again thou witch.    

The fourth song, being a fictitious Relation.  

Let every man beware, for fear of stout Hugh Nunnick,  
To speak ill of his Cornwall, or to dispraise Boconnick.  
For he's a Cornish Chaugh, and not of it ashamed,  
And born was near Boconnick at a place needs not be named.   

2.  
He hath been very merry all from the mount to Lanston,  
Where about many a Maypole, and many a green he hath danced on,  
At Lestithel, and Bodman, at Truro, and Polmagon  
The courteous Lad Polwheel and he have tossed many a Flagon.   

3.  
He played at foils before his Worship Sir john Trelany,  
Where on the eyes, and foreheads, and mouths he hit a many.  
There was a cudgel-play not long since at Penwarden▪  
Where he did break a Constable's head, and the shins of a Churchwarden.   

4.  
At Foy, he almost lost his eyes with too much laughter,  
When he was at the wedding of Pru the Mayor's fair daughter.  
He was invited to venison, but the Pastry being open,  
There nought was in't but Apples, and they but meanly soaken.   

5.  
At Tap-houses he drank Cider with the old Lord Robert's Brewer,  
And cuffed him ere he parted, for saying he was truer:  
Then the Hostess railed, and said that he was foxed:  
She lied like a stinking Baggage; he could have drunk an Hogshead.   

6.  
At Okehampton town old Sherry gave him th● staggers,  
Where he was so unruly, they lodged him among the Beggars.  
At Exeter a Chine of beef he had, the first he eat o●  
And you my friends that hear this song, he swore ● was a great one.  
He spent his money in rambling, and so was fain● rook on  
All the way from Salssbury until he came to Okeham  
Where he lives very merry; For he is that town Carrier,  
And never left his trade but once, to be Grave Maurice Warrior.    

The fifth Song.  

1.  
It is an offence to love, and to love you;  
Woven I were blind, or you were true.  
Why should there be a mine of joys within  
Your Body, and to know't a sin?   

2.  
If I do say I love, I'm sure 'tis fit,  
If I have judgement, or have wit:  
For your deserts are wonders that would move  
Not only mine, but any's love.   

3.  
Some half-souled men that cannot tell what 'tis  
To love or hate beyond a kiss;  
By seeing you do kindle a strange fire  
Within them, and your sweets desire.   

4.  
You need not clothes, nor art, nor with a smile  
Hope any man's heart to beguile:  
Your Coyness, your Neglects, your Frowns will do  
More than all Ladies else that woo.   

5.  
'tis not my weakness, but 'tis your desert,  
I am not owner of my heart:    


The puppet-play that by water goes,  
The sword of Guy, or john of Gaunt.  
We wise, etc.   

5.  
Let zealous fasters trudge a foot,  
And toil their legs to hear a Lecture,  
And there be choked with an Hebrew root,  
At which the Minister doth conjecture.  
We wise, etc.   

6.  
They that are gluttons, and love meat,  
And it had rather be devouring,  
The greasy Cook-shops may replete;  
Whilst we our full cups are out-pouring.  
We wise, etc.   

7.  
Y'are welcome all unto this place  
That fears no Constable or Churchwarden:  
Here we will sing and drink apace,  
And slight the sports of Paris-garden.  
We wise  
Do them despise;  
For we will stay here,  
And with whole flagons bait our own bear.    

The eighth song, upon the first expedition into the North under the late King.  

1.  
Will you hear a song  
Shall do no body no wrong,  
And yet was writ at randum  
By a friend of mine  
o'er a glass of wine,  
So great it would make a man dumb.   

2.  
He wanted no matter,  
To have made it a Satire,  
And abused all townsmen, and Nobles:  
But he thought it unfit  
o to wrong his wit,  
To bring himself into troubles.   

3.  
To all his friends  
He sends his commends,  
And prays them when they are drinking  
To forbear to prate  
Of matters of State,  
And leave them to th' Counsels thinking:   

4.  
Nor to take it in snuff  
If a man in buff  
Doth come into their chamber;  
As if they thought  
All Soldiers were naught,  
And a contempt was in armour.   

5.  
Nor when they are drunk  
To think of a punk,  
For fear of the flux, or sweeting;  
But away to creep,  
And (at home) go sleep,  
And leave it a friendly meeting.   

6.  
He would have them next  
Not to be perplexed  
If their mistress be cruel;  
Nor to fight with them  
Whom they do esteem;  
Lest they be jeered for the Duel.   

7.  
If a man love one,  
And her heart be gone,  
And placed upon another;  
Let him do the same  
In little Cupid's name,  
And that will please Love's mother.   

8.  
Let him that is forth  
Going to the north,  
Have his health drunk every sitting;  
And all good success  
Wished unto the English,  
And all things else befitting.   

9  
Let the soldiers obey  
What the captains say,  
Lest they disgrace their profession;  
And save their blows  
From their friends for their foes,  
And all their anger's expression.   

10.  
Let us fight for our King,  
And fame will sing  
Of us an endless story;  
The Chronicles will tell  
That we did well,  
And lived and died in glory.    

The ninth song.  

1  
O Cupid use thy bow,  
Thy deity declare;  
Make all fit people know  
Thy force that living are.   

2  
But shoot aright (good boy)  
And mutual fire constrain;  
For it is tytanny  
To make our love in vain.   

3  
Let Matrons peevish be  
Whose looks time hath decayed:  
But let no youthful she  
From earth decease a Maid.   

4  
Let Ethiopes froward prove  
Whom nature hath made back:  
And they thy pleasures love  
That no perfections lack.   

5.  
Make every man love one,  
And him his mistress too;  
So Hymen shall not moan  
For wanting of his due.   

6.  
The young ones of each sex  
Will thereby have content,  
And not hereafer vex,  
To fast so long a Lent.    

The tenth Song.  

1.  
Curl every hair, smile with your eyes,  
And enchant  
Any Saint  
With the rare music of your voice:  
Show your breast,  
Or your best,  
Me you no way have to entice.   

2.  
Dance to sweet numbers, to excel,  
Being so quick,  
‛ Rithmetick;  
And so most evenly, and so well,  
That out wonder  
May not number  
Those soft steps your feet do tell.   

3  
Take your sweet Lute (which is the spirit  
Of music)  
And use it  
Unto your highest praise of merit:  
Though each sound  
My ears wound,  
My heart nereless shall freely bear it.   

4.  
Were all your clothes so rich and fine,  
As you were  
In her sphere  
Bright Citheraea to outshine;  
Yet they shooed  
Not my blood  
Warm like unto a glass of wine.   

5.  
In hope to conquer at first sight,  
To each part  
Add all art:  
And to provoke an appetite,  
To your will  
Join your skill;  
Yet all your magic I shall slight.   

6.  
Let you and I together go  
In the spring,  
When birds sing;  
And I'll swear to talk, not woo:  
Or when heat  
Makes us get  
Into an Arbour, I'll do so.   

7.  
I cannot be a thrall to her  
Who I know  
Heart doth owe  
To another, and him prefer;  
If my suit  
Miss the fruit,  
I the tree can well abhor.   

8.  
Yet (Lady) witness all we see,  
'tis not I  
That deny,  
Nor is it you that disagree:  
Honour so  
'Slight you do,  
That I in love can never be.    

The eleventh Song.  

1.  
Wherefore should gallants be sad,  
And keep house like an owl all day?  
Sure they that do so are mad,  
Or want money a shot to pay.  
Then let's drink off our pots,  
Our glasses and our bowls:  
The refusers all are sots,  
And men of narrow souls.  
Our honest hostess doth sing, our honest hostess doth sing  
With a pot of ale  
In her hand, that is stale,  
Sing hay ding, ding a ding, ding.   

2  
Leave thinking of London sack,  
Of Rhenish, Claret, and White  
Such chargeable liquors lack,  
And in an Alehouse delight.  
If our drink be strong of the malt,  
And boiled enough withal,  
I wonder who can find fault  
With such a good cup of ale.  
Our honest hostess doth sing, etc.   

3.  
If any two be fallen out,  
And ready a duel to fight,  
Let them drink together a bout,  
A whole day or a whole night:  
And that will make them friends,  
And have no mind to quarrel,  
Without their blood's expense;  
Such virtue is in a barrel.  
Our honest hostess doth sing, etc.   

4.  
If any man be in love,  
And cannot his mistress get,  
Let him all business remove,  
And go and drink a fit.  
Good company, and good drink,  
And an house that will reckon right,  
Will make a body think  
Time spent in love's no delight.  
Out honest hostess doth sing, etc.   

5.  
If a man want money or clothes,  
And hath but a friend to pay;  
Good liquor will banish his woes,  
And make him a merry day:  
It Physic is for each grief,  
And medicine for all diseases;  
The labourers sole relief,  
And all his toil appeases.  
Our honest hostess doth sing, etc.   

6.  
A pot of spiced ale and a tossed  
Is good for a morning's draught;  
And meat either boiled or roast,  
For dinner, if it be salt.  
'Twill make one's liquor go down  
Without sharking, with delight;  
And Gentleman make, or clown,  
To sleep without waking all night.  
Our honest hostess doth sing, etc.    

The twelfth song.  
The wench's complaint, Non e maggior tormento.  

1.  
I can no greater torment find  
Then lie with one I cannot love▪  
Each minute seems a year confined,  
So slowly then do minutes move.  
When me his hap 's to kiss, or touch,  
I with him am offended much.   

2.  
If he doth chance to me to say,  
Can it be possible (my Dear)  
You so abstemious are from play  
That you (against your will) lie here?  
I am enforced in compliment  
To tell him I have much content.   

3.  
Imagine Ladies, you that know  
What a vexation it is,  
If from my heart I speak or no,  
And do not counterfeit all this:  
For when to him I turn my back,  
I mouths at him in hatred make▪   

4.  
All that enamoured are of me,  
Whom I cannot affect again,  
Thus from their passions I do free;  
I have no pleasure in their gain:  
And (ifthey think I any take)  
'tis with their money I it make▪   

5.  

These four first Stanza's are translated out of Italian; the end in the original omitted as too▪ wanton, and this last added for a conclusion.  Women that are by want oppressed  
And therefore yield unto this vice,  
Know all the world they do detest  
Embraces that are not their choice.  
The want of money is unjust,  
To make them subject unto Justiniano.    

The thirteenth song.  
William the Conqueror to Emma the Miliners daughter of Manchester.  

1.  
Helen of Greece I should despise,  
And Cressida unhandsome call;  
Poppaea would not please mine eyes,  
My Emma so exceeds them all.  
When she doth chance to comb her head,  
She scatters night upon her face;  
Her lovely brown hair being spread,  
Those clouds forbid our eagerest gaze.  
Envy about her can suppose  
No fault at all, but in her clothes.   

2.  
When her fine hand th' Eclipse removes,  
And lets her eyes dart forth their beams,  
Our hearts are burned by our loves,  
And quenched by our Optic streams.  
Lest her sweet eyes, ore-glorious lights,  
Should fire on one another reflect,  
And burn themselves to endless nights,  
Her delicate nose stands to protect.  
Envy about, etc.   

3.  
Her lips themselves in love have kissed,  
And married were by her sweet tongue;  
Her dear heart gave them to the Priest,  
And all th' Epithalamium song.  
Her even and little teeth all clad  
In white, as white as purest snow,  
Instead of bridemen wait most glad,  
And for the bridemaids likewise go.  
Envy about etc.   

4.  
Her pretty ears this Paradise  
Do guard without a Gun or sword;  
Virtue commands in chief, and vice  
Dares not approach though in a word.  
Her neck doth seem the milky way  
Unto the Tempe of her breast,  
Where two fine hills nipples display,  
Like two suns rising east and west.  
Envy about etc.   

5.  
Her lovely hands (when they do stir  
Through motion she unto them lends)  
Add several graces unto her,  
And beauty shake at fingers ends.  
These are her glories that we know,  
Her envious clothes conceal the rest:  
Happy is he that so can woe  
As win her to reveal the rest!  
Envy about her, etc.   

6.  
Let fancy work till she be kind;  
And lay her on a bed of Roses,  
Terras incognitas to find,  
And it a paradise discloses.  
Her belly like a bed of cream  
Appears unto our curious eyes,  
Upon whose top you may esteem  
The Navel like a cherry lies.  
Envy about her, etc.   

7.  
Her mountain-thighs we doespy  
Covered with warm perpetual snow:  
Ah what a straight between doth lie,  
No Magellan did ever know!  
Her neat-made legs forth stretched lie  
On sheets resembling a calm Sea,  
And (like to Promontories) try  
To frame a safe and pleasant Bay.  
Envy about her, etc.   

8.  
Her pretty feet like lands-ends seem,  
Whose toes likes Fairies do appear  
To tempt beholders to esteem  
No beauty such, and t'enter there.  
'tis like (fair maid) you yet may boast  
That trifle called virginity:  
How many joys you then have lost!  
Therefore away with such a toy.  
Envy about her, etc.   

9  
When you shall gracious be but thus  
To meet in groves or amorous beds;  
Young Kings and Queens shall envy us,  
And we will get new maidenheads:  
And when we do refresh awhile,  
You like a Princess bride shall rise;  
And Art and Nature both shall toil  
To dress you glorious as the skies.  
Envy about you shall suppose  
No fault, and wonder at your clothes.    

The fourteenth song.  
Emmas answer to William the Conqueror.  

1.  
Great conqueror, you do a wrong  
Unto your judgement, to compare  
Poor Emma (in your amorous song)  
To Ladies so renowned and fair.  
The hair that grows upon my head  
I have no cause to glory in;  
It is as brown as is my bread,  
And can (I hope) tempt none to fin.  
My clothes are homely as my form,  
I wear them but to keep me warm.   

9  
My humble eyes (when I am up)  
To read my office are employed,  
And unto house-affairs to look,  
And not to gaze abroad in pride.  
I hope no want on beams they cast  
To work to any an unease:  
Therefore my nose needs not be placed  
As Constable to keep the peace.  
My clothes are homely, etc.   

3.  
My lips will serve a country wench,  
So also will my northern tongue;  
It with my heart agrees in sense,  
What I think speaking, and no wrong.  
My teeth are like to other girls,  
Nor even, nor white, but in the mean:  
I know they are but bones, not pearls,  
And slut I were, were they not clean.  
My clothes are homely, etc.   

4.  
My ears will serve to do the part  
Which nature did design them for;  
The love of virtue's in my heart,  
And to hear lewdness I abhor.  
I wonder why my neck you praise;  
As other maidens are so 's it:  
So is my breast, which I adays  
Use to wear covered, as is fit.  
My clothes are homely, etc.   

5.  
My hands employed in houswifries,  
To sow, to spin, or else to carded;  
Cannot be soft, not being nice,  
And 't is no shame to have them hard.  
Such is poor Emma, and no better,  
Whom (royal Sir) you so commend:  
And I beseech you therefore let her  
Her poor life in plain truth to end.  
My clothes are homely, etc.   

6.  
Let not your fancy be unkind  
Unto yourself, ill thoughts to raise:  
My wearied body at night doth find  
A bed of flocks or straw always.  
My other parts you please to name  
Are ordinary as the rest;  
And I in truth do blush for shame  
To hear them so by you expressed.  
My clothes are homely, etc.   

7.  
I cannot from my tears refrain  
To hear you tax virginity:  
How many martyred virgins reign  
In heaven for keeping chastity!  
And (in the dark Abyss below)  
How many wretched souls do groan,  
For slighting here their honour so,  
As heathens have far better done!  
My clothes are homely, etc.   

8.  
I hope I never shall become  
Ungracious in so a high a wise,  
To prostitute to any one  
A jewel heaven so much doth prize:  
If I (to please my friends) should wed  
To any honest neighbour's child,  
I am resolved the marriagebed  
To keep (my life through) undefiled.  
Though me then better clothes transform,  
I'll wear them but to keep me warm.    

The fifthteenth Song.  

1.  
Here's a Health to a merry old sinner,  
A Glass of strong Aquavitae,  
That for a crown and a dinner  
Will get you a Wench will delight you.   

2.  
Because that you are not for Ale,  
Here's a Health to a Wench in strong Beer;  
Although she (like it) be stale,  
She may happen to cost you dear.   

3.  
Here's a Health in Ale to your Dear,  
That lately hath served in the Kitchen;  
A bouncing Wastcoteer,  
A remedy for your itching.   

4.  
Here's a Health to the Earls fine daughter,  
In Rhenish with Lemmon and Suggar,  
Who (with this well balanced) will after  
Give liberty to you to hug her.   

5.  
Unto the Green-sickness Maid  
Here's a Health in sparkling White,  
Though yet she be never so stayed,  
She may alter her mind ere night.   

6.  
Unto the new married wife,  
An Health here is in neat Claret;  
Though her spouse lead a jealous Life,  
And her tongue out-prattles a Parrot,   

7.  
To the jovial widow at last,  
An health we will drink in Sack▪  
Her constitution's in haste,  
You may quickly guests what she doth lack.   

8.  
Now you have so freely drunk  
Their healths, and merrily round.  
Each of you may go to his Punk,  
They are yours a mite to a pound.   

9  
Bút now I've thought better on't,  
you'd best to leave drinking and whoring▪  
For virtue hereafter will vaunt,  
When vice shall receive a great scouring,    

The sixteenth Song, of two lovers.  

1.  
Two lovers lately that for some years' space  
Enjoyed in each others looks an heaven of bliss,  
Are parted, and have left their usual gaze,  
He on her beauties, and she upon his.  
Behold what alterations time can raise  
In humane breasts, and settled constancies:  
Great Love, we do accuse thee of our crime,  
And thank for our recovery only Time.   

2.  
As I have seen a crooked river run  
Through Meads and moorish grounds in oblique course,  
So slighly stealing as no way it won,  
And no intention had to leave the source;  
And never roared at all till it begun  
Into another stream to yield its force:  
So no dislike her cunning Fashion showed,  
Till all her Favours she from him bestowed.   

3.  
Long he her loved, and long she loved again,  
And both did glory in each others heart:  
Cupid in each breast kept an equal reign,  
A mutual court of joy without all art;  
Without dissimulation or disdain,  
Without the least offence to either part,  
Till a new love possessed her yielding mind,  
After so long continuing true and kind,   

4.  
He afterwards retreated (as was fit)  
Called home his heart, and quenched the mighty fire,  
With drinking Lethe to his former fit,  
That had so long enthralled him to desire.  
And (generous spirit) that hast conquered it,  
All hail! And welcome to the sacred Choir  
Of Freedoms Temple, where bright Truth discovers,  
And laughs at all the follies of all Lovers.    

The seventeenth Song.  
Of a Mistress.  

1.  
I love a Lass as fair as ere was seen,  
Yet have I never seen if she be fair:  
Grandees her suitors have and servants been,  
And they that woo her now great Nobles are▪  
How can I therefore think that she will deign  
To look on me? I fear I love in vain.   

2.  
Unto the Beauty which I do so desire  
I will make haste, to see how fair she is;  
And though I find my betters wooers by her,  
I will be bold, and all my thoughts express;  
Which when I have done, will she therefore deign  
To pity me? I fear I love in vain.   

3.  
I'll tell her that her hairs are golden Twines  
Able t' enamour all the Deities;  
And that her eyes are two celestial signs,  
More glorious than the twelve within the skies.  
When I have told her this, will she then deign  
To love me too? I fear I love in vain.   

4.  
If (when that I have said what I can say,  
And made what Protestations I can make)  
She will be proud, and coy, and say me Nay,  
Though ne'er so fair, my heart from her I'll take  
I will not subject be to her disdain:  
The world shall never say I love in vain.    

The eighteenth song. Of women.  

1.  
I wonder why by foul-mouthed men  
Women so slandered be,  
Since it so easily doth appear  
Th' are better far than we.   

2.  
Why are the Graces every one  
Pictured as women be,  
If not to show that they in Grace  
Do more excel than we?   

3.  
Why are the liberal Sciences  
Pictured as women be  
But t' show (if they would study them)  
They'd more excel than we.   

4.  
And yet the Senses every one,  
As men should pictured be;  
To make it known that women are  
Less sensual than we.   

5.  
Why are the virtues every one  
Pictured as women be;  
If not to show that they in them,  
Do more excel than we?   

6.  
Since women are so full of worth,  
Let them all praised be;  
For commendations they deserve  
In ampler wise than we.    

The nineteenth Song.  

You are too proud to love, and are too kind  
To hate: what therefore is your mind?  
Think you none worthy of you, 'cause you know  
That you should be admired so?  
And will you not hate, 'cause you would  
Not be a maid when you are old?   

2.  
Though nature hath been liberal in your parts,  
And you (for jewels) do wear hearts  
If you yourself do only like and love,  
You in a wrong sphere for you move.  
As you were made to love, beside  
So you were made to be enjoyed.    

The twentieth Song. A Ballad of Darbyshire.  

1.  
Dear Polyhymnie, be  
Auspicious unto me,  
That I may spread abroad  
Our Shires worth in an ode,  
Merrily chanting.  
They that our Hills do blame,  
Have no cause for the same;  
Seeing the Muse's lie  
Upon Parnassus high,  
Where no joy's wanting.   

2.  
Upon Olympus' Hill  
Hebe Heavens cup doth fill:  
And jove of Candy Isle  
Doth the Gods reconcile,  
When they do wrangle.  
In France at Agincourt  
(Where we fought in such sort)  
Behind an hill we did  
Make our Archers lie hid,  
Foes to entangle.   

3.  
The long commanding Rome,  
And old Byzantium,  
Lisbon in Portugal,  
Are situated all  
Upon Hills strongly:  
All therefore that protest  
Hilly ground's not the best,  
Are of their wits bereaved,  
And all of them deceived,  
And censure wrongly.   

4.  
The Peer of England known  
Darby's Earldom to own,  
Is honoured by the style  
Of King of Mona's Isle  
Hereditary.  
Why hath Orantus found  
A Channel under ground  
Where t'lye hid, but for shame  
When it hears Darwins name,  
Which Fame doth carry?   

5.  
Why do the Nymphs (believe)  
Of Nile, it down Rocks drive;  
Unless it be for fear  
Trents glory should go near  
To overgo them?  
The Spa Luick Land hath,  
And Somerset the Bath:  
Burtons' (dear County) be  
As famous unto thee  
As they unto them.   

6.  
For King Mausolus' Tomb,  
Langoes known by each Groom;  
And the Campanian Lake  
Doth very famous make  
Italy's confines;  
The walls of burned stone  
Eternize Babylon:  
And the large Devil's vault  
Doth Darbyshire exalt,  
Wherein no sun shines.   

7.  
The Pike to Tennariff  
An high repute doth give;  
And the Coloss of brass,  
Where under ships did pass,  
Made Rhodes aspire.  
Tunbridge makes Kent renowned,  
And Epsome Surryes Ground:  
Pools-hole, and St. Anne's Well  
Makes Darbyshire excel  
Many a shire.   

9  
Here on an Hills side steep  
Is Elden hole, so deep,  
That no man living knows  
How far it hollow goes;  
Worthy the knowing▪  
Here also is a Well  
Whose Waters do excel  
All waters thereabout;  
Both being in and out  
Ebbing and flowing.   

9  
Here's Lead, whereof is made  
Bullets for to invade  
Them whose pride doth prevail  
So far, as to assail  
Our British borders.  
Our Lead so much may do,  
That it may win Peru;  
And (if we chance to meet  
A Spanish silver Fleet)  
Commit great murders.   

10.  
Diana's Fane to us  
Extolleth Ephesus:  
The Sand-hil, and deaf stone,  
Do Darbyshire renown,  
Worth Admiration.  
Windsor Berks doth commend,  
And Essex Audley-end:  
We of our Chatsworth boast,  
A Glory to our coast,  
And the whole Nation.   

11.  
Spain doth vaunt of its Sack,  
And France of Claret crack;  
Of Rhenish Germany:  
And of thy Ale speak free  
My gallant County.  
Now I have made an end,  
I wish you to commend  
Either the Author's wit,  
Or me for singing it,  
Out of your bounty.    

Song 21.  

1.  
Ah me! I have sinned so,  
That the thought of it is my woe;  
That my eyes  
To the skies,  
Nor my prayer  
Neither dare  
I to lift, but here mourn below.  
What therefore, had I best here to sit,  
And lament for my faults in unfit  
Sorrow? no;  
Who doth so,  
Spends his fears,  
And his tears  
All in vain any mercy to get.   

2.  
My soul, mount thou then aloft,  
And beseech him thou'st angered so oft▪  
He easily can  
Pardon man,  
Being inclined  
To be kind  
With real contrition, and soft.  
What though my many foul transgressions do  
Exceed all the stars in our view;  
Do overcome  
Motes it'h Sun,  
And surpass  
Blades of grass?  
His merits do exceed all these too.   

3.  
His mercies exceed all these,  
And all sins wherewith men him displease▪  
Every sigh  
He did give,  
Every wound  
That is found  
On his body could a world release.  
And therefore for shame if not for love,  
(Yet love is all fear and shame above)  
Let us shun  
Hell, and run  
In heaven's way,  
Whiles 'tis day;  
For from thence is no sad remove.    
FINIS.   

THE OBSTINATE LADY A COMEDY Written by ASTON COKAIN.  
LONDON Printed by WILLIAM GODBID, 1658.   

Dramatis Personae.  

Polidacre An old Lord.  
Philander. His son.  
Carionil. A young Lord. The counterfeit. Negro, and called Tucapelo.  
Falorus. His friend.  
Lorece. A fantastic gallant. His brother.  
Phyginois. Called Draculemion.  
jaques. An old simple daughter of Vandonae's.  
Servants.  
Maskers.   

Rosinda. Polidare his wife, called Tandorix.  
Lucora. The obstinate Lady her daughter.  
Cleanthe. Her sister called Anclethe.  
Vandona. A young rich widow.  
Antiphila. A fine young Lady.  
Nentis. Lucora's Woman, Vandone's sister.    

The Prologue.  

BRave crown of Gallants welcome! May this place  
Meet expectation; you afford us grace:  
We joy that such a multitude divine  
Of Planets in our little Spheres do shine;  
And that besides our Horizon is stuck  
With lesser lights, we do esteem't good luck.  
For the great favour, may each several scene  
Affect you more, than Hebe's Nectar Heaven.  
We can but wished: for if y'are come to day  
In expectation of a faultless play,  
Writ by learned Johnson, or some able pen,  
Famed, and approved of by the world, you than  
We disappoint: our Poet had never yet  
Hisses condemn, or hands commend his wit.  
Troth, Gentlemen, we know that now a days  
Some come to take up wenches at our plays;  
It is not our design to please their sense,  
We wish they may go discontented hence.  
And many Gallants hither come (we think)  
To sleep, and to digest their too much drink:  
We may please them; for we will not molest,  
With drums or trumpets, any of their rest.  
If perfumed wantoness do for eighteen pence,  
Expect an Angel, and alone go hence,  
We shall be glad withal our hearts, for we  
Had rather have their room then company:  
For many an honest gentleman is gone  
Away for want of place, as look ye you:  
We guess some of you Ladies hither come  
To meet your servants wh' are at dice at home;  
You'll be deceived, and therefore will dispraise,  
And say this is the worst of all the plays  
You ever saw: but keep your censures (pray)  
Until you meet them here another day.  
Our Poet is not confident, nor doth  
Distrust his work, but labours 'twixt them both:  
He hopes it will be liked, and well; if not,  
'T can be but hissed at worst, and soon forgot▪    

Actus primi Scena prima.  
Enter Carionil, and Falorus. Fal. 
SHe has outgone my belief by't,  
I did not think that project would have failed;  
I cannot speak her.  Car. 
The Alpian snow is not more cold.  Fal. 
Her disposition is most strange.  Car. 
'Twere easier far  
To spurn the sultry Cyclops Anvil down,  
And kick it thus into Atoms in the air,  
Then to obtain her love;  
It were, my dear Falorus.  Fal. 
O think not so Carionil.  Car. 
Have I not cause?  Fal. 
At last after a constant and a brave pursuit  
She may be won.  Car. 
Could I but hope so much,  
Did all the stars malignant influences  
Threaten fate opposite to my happiness,  
I would not deem them worthy my observance,  
But persevere till I obtained, or fell.  Fal. 
Conjecture still the best.  Car. 
'tis easier to advise then to perform;  
Had you, Falorus, been so oft dismissed  
Comfortless, scornfully sent away,  
By her own lips, (O heavens!) you could not think it.  Fal. 
I could and would.  Car. 
With hope friend?  Fal. 
Yes with an assurance.  Car. 
Upon what ground would you build it?  Fal. 
Upon a woman's frequent dissimulation.  
Can you believe, when envious clouds deprive  
Your eyes from the sun's beams, that it shines not?  
In these times young Ladies for a while  
Do mantle their affections in dislike:  
Let not an ignorance of Virgin's wiles  
Disturb your noble breast with weak despair;  
Carionil assume a confidence,  
Were you inferior unto her in blood,  
Or any whit deformed, after her nays  
You might suspect the period▪ but seeing  
'Tis known, as noble blood runs through your veins,  
And that nature composed you in a mould  
As excellent as she was formed in, and  
With substance of as beauteous a gloss;  
You need not let doubts puzzle you.  Enter above Lucora and Nentis. Car. 
Stay and admire with me; exalt your eyes to happiness.  Fal. 
Your Mistress and her Woman, my Carionil.  Car. 
Lucora, She's a transcendent of Epithets.  Fal. 
I see a Lute: let us escape their sight,  
And it is likely we shall hear her sing.  Lucora. 
Now give it me. Is it in tune?  Nen. 
Yes Madam.  Car. 
Forbear awhile to play upon the spheres,  
Ye servants to the Deities: the Gods  
Will blame you, if your music keep the air  
Of her all-ravishing harmony from their ears.  

A song.  

1.  
Sweet Diana, virtuous Queen,  
By heaven's edict Guide of night,  
That dost affect the meadows green,  
And dost in fresh-leaved woods delight;  
Like to thy Nymphs, suffer me  
To consecrate myself to thee.   

2.  
Thou that for lust didst transform  
Rash Actaeon to a Hart;  
Either most strongly Maidens charm,  
That men may never them divert  
From purity, or else make  
Them other Hearts for virgin's sake.    Car. 
How! a votaress to Diana,  
The heavens forbid that injury to earth.  
Had the deceitful Sirens such a voice,  
And bodies of so rare a form, I would  
Near come on shipboard, for fear of being drawn  
To drown myself by swimming after them.  Nen. 
I do not like her Madam.  Luco. 
Who ever yet spoke ill of Daphne? fie!  
Banish such impious censures from you.  Nen. 
Troth, Madam, I should have been glad to a been my Lady Apollo.  Luco. 
O relish more of purity Nentis. Alas, 'tis a frail comfort can come with a husband.  Nen. 
I think otherwise indeed Madam.  Luco. 
Be all such thoughts remote from my breast,  
My resolution shall be never to marry.  Exeunt. Car. 
Now you have heard her thoughts Falorus.  Fal. 
That she disguises not her love you mean.  Car. 
True, and I am most miserable.  Fal. 
My happy friend you will be.  
'tis an ignorant common custom among young ones to do so.  Car. 
But she's a fixed star, and cannot move.  Fal. 
Fixed in your heart 'tis likely,  
But otherwise I doubt, nor do you.  Car. 
Y'ave shird a feeble belief within me, Friend,  
That the excellent Lucora may be won,  
And I will nourish it unto some height.  Fal. 
A necessary that none must want, which do  
Desire fruition of those whom they woo.  Enter Jaques. Car. 
O honest jaques!  jaq. 
My Lady presents her service to your Lordship.  Car. 
She is in health I hope.  jaq. 
Very well. And I am glad to see your Honour so, though I say it.  Car. 
She is not towards another husband yet?  jaq. 
No certainly.  Car. 
Methinks her fortunes should give her a various choice. You are elsewhere employed I perceive: remember my best respects unto your Lady.  Exit jaques. 
Y'ave heard of my cousin Vandona, Falorus?  Fal. 
But very little.  Car. 
She's the most fantastic piece of womankind I ere changed breath with, but a young one, wealthy, and truly not unhandsome.  Fal. 
Lorece does intend to make love unto her.  Car. 
Your brother, my Falorus?  Fal. 
Yes, so he told me.  Car. 
May he obtain her if you wish it.  Fal. 
Her estate would make the match a good one.  Enter Cleanthe. 
Is this the boy you so commended to me?  Car. 
'Tis he, and think him you worthy the praise I gave him.  Clean. 
He'll come and wait upon you at night, my Lord.  Car. 
'Tis well Anclethe.  Fal. 
You spoke him not unto his merits.  Car. 
You are beholding to my friend (Ancleth.)  Enter a Page. Fal. 
Your Lord's in health?  Page 
And desires to speak with your Lordship,  Fal. 
Where may I find him?  Pag. 
He'll be at his lodgings these two hours.  Fal. 
I'll wait upon him presently.  Exit Page. 
I am his servant. Carionil, I must take my leave.  Car. 
The Gods go with you. He may be my father in law, but will not if he can prevent it: Adieu friend.  Exit Falorus. 
O my Anclethe! thou canst not guests the world of torments I nourish here; I cannot number them myself, and because I cannot, I fear the Gods will not.  Clean. 
What can you all my Lord?  Car. 
Canst thou imagine me free from misery?  Clea. 
Indeed I did.  Car. 
No, there's a Lady (she's above all Ladies,  
And were she pitiful, I should swear a goddess)  
That does deny me happiness.  
As thou hast me, Idalian Archer, so  
On her use thy eternal stringed bow:  
Draw to the head thy shaft, and let it fly;  
For love but love there is no remedy.  Exit Car. Clean. 
Wretched Cleanthe! to what a multitude  
Of woeful sighs my destinies have driven me!  
Could all the tears that I abundantly have wept,  
But find that recompense I dare not look for,  
O they were showers to be beloved like those  
That deck the spring with bravery! Carionil  
(For whom I languish in disguise) it seems  
Hath settled his affections on a Lady  
Does not return him love. May she continue  
Obstinate ever: but I must blame her judgement,  
Who can behold a man (with all the art  
Of nature) framed to curiosity,  
And hear the world report his virtues equal  
Unto his form, and not admire and love him.  Enter Lorece. Lore. 
Now my young sweet face! what pretty foolish whimsies trouble thy pate, that thou lookest so composedly?  Clea. 
Sir, I am as I use to be.  Lore. 
Then you use to be scurvy. Use the Tavern once or twice a day. You must not be so melancholy.  Clean. 
It best becomes me.  Lore. 
Canst thou swear?  Clean. 
The Gods forbid.  Lore. 
Canst thou sing.  Clean. 
Not worth your hearing Sir.  Lore. 
Sayest thou so! Then will I something worth thine.  


1.  
Of six shilling beer I care not to hear,  
A barrel's not worth a carrot,  
I as others think, that there is no drink  
Like unto Sack, White wine, and Claret.   

2.  
Diana's a fool, and me shall not rule  
To live a bacheller ever;  
For I mean not to tarry, in her livery, but marry,  
And quickly, believe me, or never.   

3.  
And I and my wife will lead such a life,  
As she shall think well befell her;  
For throughout the year we'll tipple March-beer▪  
And seldom be out of the Cellar.   

4.  
All Sto●ical prate, and Diana I hate,  
With her maidenly scurvy advices:  
Green sickness upon her, sweet Venus I honour;  
For wenches and wine are not vices.   

5.  
Wooed Baceus the knave had met with this brave  
Diana, this whey-blooded Lady;  
For the credit of ' th' grape he had made a rape,  
And got a puissant baby.    Cle. 
YE are not melancholy Sir, your brother is more solemn.  Core. 
I melancholy! I scorn it boy. Yet I'm not so merry as I was wont, the young gunner Mr. Cupid had somewhat tamed me: but I am good mettle still (thank my jovial fates) and will sound melodiously, my young Paris.  Enter Jaques. 
Welcome to Hercules noble Theseus. Good boy,  
Go wait on thy master.  Exit Cleanthe. 
How dost, thou old magazine of precious knavery?  jaq. 
I am glad to see your Worship well.  Lore. 
My noble milner of words, thou that dost grind thy speeches with a merry pronunciation, wilt be my bosom, my cabinet, my friend jaques?  jaq. 
I will obey your good Worship.  Lore. 
Liberally spoken! when I have opened me, will you be privy?  jaq. 
Very secret and officious: it is good manners in me, your command shall wedge my tongue, hedge my heart, and tie a true lover's knot upon it with the strings of it.  Lore. 
Thou art an honest clod of earth, jaques.  
'tis pity the malicious sunshine warmed thee not into a diamond.  jaques. 
Your Worship speaks above my brains.  Lore. 
I am marvellously enamoured on your Lady, jaques. Vandona is my Mistress.  jaq. 
Wonderful news! Is my Lady your Worship's sweetheart?  Lore. 
Yes. But ignorant of my affection yet.  jaq. 
I could be drunk were you my Master, Sir.  Lore. 
I would have a Wine-cellar o'th' purpose. My estate jaques is but mean: It must be craft must get her: Knowest thou any possible way to win her?  jaq. 
Sir, I am passing empty of invention, but wherein I can pleasure you, tell me at any time, and I will not fail you. But the Gods bless your good Worship: Sir, would you marry her?  Lore. 
Yes my old trusty Pirithous. Why dost wonder at it?  jaq. 
She does nothing all day but read little Comedies, and every night spendstwo or three hours on a great Tragedy of a merry fellow Dametas, and a company of strange-named learned Lovers, she's no more housewife than you or I Sir, on my own proper knowledge, I swear, vow and protest it.  Lore. 
Thou art too earnest my old-faced Saturn, I think her not the worse woman. Housewifery is the superficies of a genteel female, and the Parenthesis of a Lady, which may well be left out.  jaq. 
You are a Scholar, your bookship shall direct me.  Enter Phyginois. Lore. 
Who's that? knowest thou him jaques? He walks corantoly, and looks big.  jaq. 
And like your Worship, this tide first brought him to my eyes.  Lore. 
He came not by water, did he old Boy?  jaq. 
I meant Time Sir, the London word.  Phy. 
When we this passion into us receive,  
Our former pleasures we do loath and abandon▪  jaq. 
Leave, by your leave.  Phy. 
If it were foolishness in us to take  
Affection, why did heaven two sexes compose?  jaq. 
Make, would make Rhyme.  Phy. 
Why Period to the Phoenix doth fire give,  
But because it doth against nature consist?  jaq. 
Live, he should say. This is some very small Poet.  Phy. 
I'll on, and am resolved to prefer  
My life to be a service unto her.  Lore. 
What an affected utterance has this fellow!  jaq. 
He'll ne'er make good Ballad warrant him, that will not rhyme when he may.  Lore. 
The Catastrophe was in ●hime though. He would be liked for a stage Poet.  Phy. 
Noble Heroes! the Gods intent your fortunes to your thoughts.  Lore. 
An Academical Idiom: inquire his name jaques, he delivers his mind after the garb of a Signior.  jaq. 
Have you a name friend?  Phy. 
I answer to Draculemyon.  jaq. 
Good Sir, let's trudge hence; this is some great Conjurer.  Lore. 
Are you a Necromancer?  jaq. 
Mr. Lorece, I fear he is some Saracen, he looks so dismal.  Lore. 
Art thou a Panim, speak?  jaq. 
For all your great looks Termegant is an Idol.  Phy. 
I am nor one nor other, but your Honour's vassal, and a poor Englishman. Wilt please you to hear the Music of Helicon?  jaq. 
Law you now Sir, how one may be deceived! I believe the whoreson is a Fiddler. Can you sing (sirrah?) answer me.  Phy. 
I am no Fiddler; but live by my tongue and legs: will you hear me (noble Sir) speak a Parnassian Oration, or see me measure the ground with a dance?  Lore. 
What sayest thou jaques?  jaq. 
Why now Sir, 'tis dinner time with my Lady, and I dare not neglect her, neither will I my own stomach, and therefore for me he may show us a fair pair of heels, and be gone.  Lor. 
Well then— spend this for me.  Phy. 
Y'are, Sir, the best part of a moralist: you are most liberal.  Lor. 
Come jaques.  jaq. 
I follow you Sir, farewell goodman Draculemyon.  Phy. 
The Gods bless me, there's a name!  Exeunt. 
Proceed Phyginois, and be fortunate;  
This project will furnish me with money to clothe me  
Both fashionably and rich enough, and then  
I dare assail my Nentis with some confidence:  
Politic Lovers seldom miss.  
Smile heaven upon my plot, that there may be  
A crowned Period to my policy.  Exit.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Polidacre and Falorus. Pol. 
HOw do you like Lucora?  Fal. 
She's a Lady above my thoughts, much more my tongue.  Pol. 
Could not you wish her yours? I have a desire to make her so.  Fal. 
Ambrosia Hebe's Cates are for the Gods:  
Princes she doth deserve to woo her love.  Pol. 
You undervalue her my Lord;  
The best is not too good for him that gets her.  
Your breeding has been worthy your descent;  
I've known you from your Infancy, and am  
Desirous to make you mine.  Fal. 
He enforceth me to an acceptance. I must temporize with him,  
Most worthy Polidacre, I cannot attain to a greater happiness on earth, then to bear the name of your Son in law.  Pol. 
I thank thee my Falorus. I'll go presently, & get my daughter's consent. As you shall not want beauty with her, so you shall not money. I'll take my leave.  Fal. 
I am your most humble servant, my Lord.  Exit Pol. 
What envious Star when I was born, divined  
This adverse Fate, who having such a beauty  
Proffered him, would refuse it? The pined man  
Whom Poet's fantasies have placed in Hell  
With fruit before him, had not such a cross.  
The true regard I bear unto my friend.  
The brave Carionil must not be slighted;  
The sacred truth of friendship ever shooed  
By force enfeeble all rebellious blood.  Enter Carionil. 
Well met my dear Carionil.  Car. 
I am happy in your company: y'are my hearts best treasury, Falorus.  Enter Lucora and Nentis. 
But give me leave my friend.  Fal. 
O! I see the cause; your Mistress.  Car. 
Retire ye Clouds, and weep out showers of woe,  
Because ye may no longer stand and gaze  
On her, for whom the heavens their circuits go,  
That they may see, and wonder at her face.  
Dear Falorus withdraw yourself awhile.  Fal. 
The Gods assist your suit.  Car. 
Thanks worthy friend.  He withdraws. 
Hail natures most perfect work, and the continual Idea of my admiring Soul, for whom (if it be your will) I must die, and by whom (if it is your pleasure) I shall live, live in an unspeakable felicity by enjoying you, who shall die happily for wanting you, and I cannot live in such a penury.  Nen. 
Woo'd I had such a servant: I should not serve him scurvily.  Car. 
Honour your poor adorer, Lady, with a gracious look of your beloved eyes, and my misery for you, both with commiseration and remedy.  Luco. 
My Lord, if you presume upon a woman's  
Feigned carriage to her wooers, leave it now.  
For (if you'll give me leave) I'll call to witness  
Every particular Deity we adore,  
That I will never have a husband: and  
For your saying you must die for me, I hold it  
A common Compliment of idle Lovers;  
And wish you so much happiness, that you  
May live well without me.  Cairo. 
O be not so unmerciful!  
Let not that tongue err into virulent words,  
Which could have called Eurydice from Hell.  
Had your most excellent mother (fairest Lady)  
Inexorable been, you had not been,  
Nor Crimson Roses ever spread upon  
Your lovely cheeks, nor had the world discovered  
Two Planets more: hath nature liberally  
Heaped the rarest perfections (she could give  
Mortality) upon you to no end?  
No surely, not can I believe that she  
Meant to enclose a mind infractible  
Within a body so powerful to subdue.  
As you (even your dear self) was daughter to  
A beauteous mother, so you also should  
Indebt the world unto you by your issue:  
Be not so cruel therefore (dear Lucora)  
Let not your tongue degenerate from your form.  Luco. 
Sir, you have heard me speak what I intent.  Car. 
Be not a Tiger's Lady.  Luc. 
Any thing but a wife:  
Sir, I must leave you, and leave you this humour;  
The Court hath many Ladies, take your choice.  
Nentis!  Nen. 
Mad am  Luc. 
Come my Lord take my counsel.  Nen. 
I could use him kindlier.  Car. 
What say you Lady?  Nen. 
Nothing my Lord.  Exeunt Luco. Nent. Car. 
Doth a fair face presage a cruel heart?  
ist not a mere full contrary in Nature,  
That the softest body should be hardest to win?  
Nature is grown decrepit, and all things  
Sublunary err against her rule of order.  
Stir not then thou glorious Fabric of the heavens,  
And periodize the Music of the spheres.  
Thou ever yet fast fixed Globe of earth,  
Whirl round in a perpetual Motion.  
Ye Stars and Moon that beautify the night,  
Change rule with clear Hyperion, and so cast  
Succeeding time into another mould.  
Then with thy powerful beams, Apollo, draw  
The Ocean into clouds, and drown the world:  
So there a new creation may befall,  
And this life be a life celestial.  Enter Falorus. 
O all my happiness on earth, my true Falorus!  
Lucoraes' beauty triumphs in my breast,  
And shortly will destroy me: There's no beast  
That haunts the vastest African wilderness,  
Of such a merciless constitution.  
She'll never marry man.  Fal. 
She will Carionil. Her father would have her, and she has not so much evil to contradict his will: where then can she make such a choice as you? that in a duel, your Grandfather did kill hers, y'v e heard her oft protest she valued not.  Car. 
Does he desire it, or does your love flatter me into a little possibility of obtaining her? Alas, if she could like me, her father would very difficultly consent. He loves not my family.  Fal. 
Polidacre could not hinder you, were she willing. But (friend) her father means to marry her. His own lips offered her to me.  Car. 
O ye just heavenly powers! then I am lost,  
Sunk into misery beneath a spark  
Of this lives happiness.  
Falorus, you shall not have her.  Fal. 
I would not wrong my noble friend so much.  Car. 
A puff of wind and gone. For her who would not  
Do all mankind an injury, and outact  
In horrid deeds all those that ere professed  
Licentious Atheism? unsheathe your sword;  
I will not take that life basely away  
Which next unto Lucoraes' I esteem,  
Yet stay.  Fal. 
He's frantic! withdraw this frenzy O ye Gods.  Car. 
You are my friend?  Fal. 
I have been so accounted by you.  Car. 
Let me consult it out, shall one word.  
Na (which is less) one syllable (friend extract  
Out of me all the interest that I  
Have to Lucora, by affecting her:  
But this is a safe medium, a true friend  
Exceeds all words, and syllables at height;  
A man may, nay he should poise equally  
His love, and part unto his friend the justice of it,  
Which is the full half; so that it appears  
They should be loved by's as we love ourselves.  
But to a Mistress who would not give more?  
Who can choose to give more? the love that we  
Bear to a friend, it is an accident, a mere one:  
But 'tis our nature to affect a woman,  
And 'tis a glory to preserve a Mistress  
Entire to one's self without competit o'er.  
My reason's satisfied: no friendship can  
Keep in the sword of any rivalled man.  Fal. 
Collect yourself Carionil.  Car. 
You'll fight with me?  Fal. 
I do not wear a weapon for such a Quarrel.  Car. 
What more affliction! yet 'tis against manhood,  
(A most ignoble murder) to take his life  
Who makes no opposition. And yet if death  
Prevent him not she will be his. Sad fates!  
You shall not have Lucora.  Fal. 
You wrong our amity by this suspicion:  
I swear I will not.  Car. 
How!  Fal. 
Consider (dear Carionil) I grieve  
To see my friend so over-passionate,  
It is a weakness in you to be pitied.  Car. 
My love ore-swayed my reason: pardon me  
My best Falorus, I believe your virtue  
Would not act such an injury against  
Your own Carionil.  Fal. 
Shall we walk? and I'll tell you all that passed  
'Twixt me and Polidare.  Car. 
I am a thousand ways obliged yours.  Fal. 
You are my Carionil, I wish no more  
From you then a perpetuity of love,  
And that our hearts may never be untied.  Car. 
You are too worthy for my friendship.  Exunt.  

Scena tertia.  Enter Antiphila sola reading. 

Fair Antiphila hath hair  
Would grace the Paphian Queen to wear;  
Fit to tune Heaven's Lute withal,  
When the Gods for music call;  
Fit to make a vail to hide  
Aurora's blush each morning tide;  
Fit to compose a crafty gin  
To take the hearts of lookers in;  
Able to make the stubborn kind,  
And (who dislike it) t'be judged blind:  
Though it is soft and fine, it ties  
My heart, that it in fetters lies.   
It is a great I know not what. I have not Poetry enough in me to give it a name. These Lovers are the prettiest fools (I think) in the world. And 'twere not for them I cannot tell what we women should do. We desire nothing more than to be praised, and their love to us will do it beyond our wishes. I gave Philander upon his long importunity a lock of hair, and see into what a vein it has put him! I'm sorry he had it not a week sooner, I should then perhaps a had a Sonnet-book ere this: 'tis pity wit should lie obscurely in any, if a lock will give it vent. I love him not; I should rather choose his father, who is as earnest a suitor to me as he: yet I know, because of his age, very few Ladies wood be of my mind; but as yet I care for neither of them.  Enter Philander. 
Now I must expect an assault, 'tis in's ear already, he's very fine.  Phi. 
My dear Anniphila, you have received.  Anti. 
Your verses (Sir?) I have.  Phi. 
I am your true adorer for them Lady.  
Wood your white hand had done me the honour it did them!  Anti. 
In what Sir you must explain.  Phi. 
That a touch of your skin might have ravished me into happiness.  Anti. 
The Lock has altered your discourse, I wood it had shut your mouth.  Phil. 
there's no need of that (excellent Antiphila) I wood rather deprive myself of my tongue, then that any word of mine should be offensive unto you  Anti. 
You relish too much of the Court.  Phi. 
Polite words can never misbecome a speaker who hath such a subject.  Anti. 
Am I your subject? you have called me Mistress.  Phi. 
You are my Saint Lady, and I must pray to you.  Anti. 
Saints hear no prayers some say.  Phi. 
Pray you show otherways by granting mine.  Anti. 
Have you any more papers?  Phi. 
My mouth shall speak mine own errand.  Anti. 
You must pardon me now Sir, I must leave you.  Exit Antiphila. Phi. 
She yet is obstinate: but I am free  
From doubt she will continue in that way;  
There is no cause of fears in women's nays,  
For none of that sex means the thing she says.  Enter Rosinda. 
Now Tandorix! where's my father?  Ros. 
Faith I know not Sir.  Phi. 
You are one of the melancholiest servants he keeps.  Ros. 
It pleases you to say so Sir.  Phi. 
They all report so of you.  Ros. 
I cannot tell Sir.  Phi. 
Y'are overlonely: be merrier, you should put yourself into more company, you should Tandorix; I respect you for my mother's sake, for whose last sad letter you was entertained here.  Ros. 
I thank you (Sir) for your kindness.  Phy. 
Farewell Tandorix.  Exit Phylomuse▪ Ros. 
My son perceives my sadness, but the cause  
Deserves it fully; 'tis now above a year  
Since I did write that I did drown myself,  
And bore the Paper to my husband, when  
I thought his memory was somewhat lost,  
And I inur'd unto this habit, drawn  
To't by a fond desire to know if he  
Would keep his promise to me, with which oaths  
He oft hath made, that never (if he should  
Survive me) he would take another wife;  
But he (as other men) esteems no more  
Of perjury then common breath; 'twere fit  
That husband's vows upon the sands were writ.  Exit.  
Finis Actus primi.   

Actus secundi Scena prima.  
Enter Lorece and Jaques. Lor. 
I Am beholding to thee jaques.  jaq. 
I will be dutiful to your Worship.  Lor. 
I should be glad to cope with your Lady, now methinks I am of a prompter expression then usual: Lovers and the Muses are cater-cousins.  Enter Vandona. 
My Vandona, jaques.  jaq. 
I must vanish like a mist.  Exit. Lor. 
Farewell grave Titan.  
I'll out with a Poetical soliloquy in her hearing for my Praeludium.  
The gaudy Stars are not more full of glee,  
When golden Phoebus setteth in the West;  
Nor do the cheerful Birds with more delight  
Rejoice at the new Livery of the spring;  
Then I to have this miracle of beauty  
Enter within the knowledge of mive eyes.  Van. 
He speaks well, I wooed he meant earnest. The Gentleman seems very deserving: but he is something wild.  Lor. 
She shall be stoutly accosted. Impudence is a very happy quality in a wooer.  Van. 
A comes.  Lor. 
Lady, you are not a puny in the Court of Cupid, and therefore (I hope) need not the tedious circumstances of an annual service. I am bold to tell you plainly, I love you, and (if I find occasion) I will maintain it boldly.  Van. 
I pray you (Mr. Lorece) desist.  Lor. 
Never my sweet Vandona; my descent (I know) you doubt not, and my affection you need not. Whilst I live I shall love you, and (if you die) your memory.  Van. 
I shall be catched. We widows are glass metal, soon broke.  Lor. 
I can do no more Lady, and I will do no less.  Van. 
Your habit, carriage, and discourse, Sir, show you a Traveller.  Lor. 
My boldness she means. Sweetest Vandona, I have been one. The habits, conditions, and situations of many great kingdoms I have exactly gathered into my table-books: and also my fortnight's observation of the Antipodes.  Van. 
O strange! have you been there? I wonder how you came thither.  Lor. 
I will tell you Lady. When I was bound thither, I was in Asia at Taxcallau; there we took ship, and in a pair of Oars sailed to Madrid, the Catholic Kings Court. From thence to Naples in Savoy, from Naples to Crenia, and thence to Alexandria, where against a tree we suffered shipwreck. Into a new Phaluk therefore we got us, which was rigged for Francfort, where shortly after we arrived, victualled our Gondalo, and threw away our fresh water.  Van. 
'tis a great way thither.  Lor. 
Thence we went to Lisbon, and after to Mantua, and the next morning we came to the Antipodes, at twilight i'th' afternoon.  Van. 
What sights saw you there Sir?  Lor. 
So many sights (dear Lady) that they almost made me blind.  Van. 
Relate a few.  Lor. 
First, Lady, the King is no man.  Van. 
I believe you Sir, for it never could enter my mind that any man inhabited there.  Lor. 
There they have no houses, but the Emperor's Palace, where Sir Francis Drake was entertained, after he had shot the Pyraenaean Gulf, upon the Mediterranean mount in Russia.  Van. 
Where then lies all the Court, I wonder?  Lor. 
In the Court Mistress.  Van. 
I guess him but cold lodgings.  Lor. 
Your Ladyship is mistake: they are never a cold; For the Sun, being never above a hundred degrees above Saturn, makes that Climate as hot as Norway. They at the Antipodes hear with their noses, smell with their ears, see by feeling, but taste with all their Senses: for they are the most insatiable gluttons under the cope: and feel not any thing;  
For they cannot be hurt.  Van. 
This is wonderful. And I cannot imagine how their senses can be so contrary to ours.  Lor. 
No! did you never hear (excellent Vandona) that they are opposite to us?  Van. 
O yes! I have indeed.  Lor. 
I will now tell you Madam something of the South Indies.  Van. 
Has not the Mogul of Persia his bread thence?  Lor. 
The King of Spain hath his gold there, of which the Hollanders took a great prize, when they won the silver Fleet.  Van. 
How I was mistake!  Lor. 
I will give you the situation of the Country. Some of the ancient Geographers, as Heliodorus, the Knight o'th' Sun, Amadis de Guale, and Palmerin de Oliva, affirm it to lie a thousand Italian miles from the Isthmos of Corinth● but some modern writers, as Don Quixot, Parismus, Montelion, and Mervin, say it is a Peninsula in Arabia Foelix, where the Phoenix is. But learned Hollinshed affirms, the South Indies are separated from Armenia by the Calidonean Forest, from Asia Minor by the Venetian Gulf, and from China by a great brick wall. There instead of Chery-stones children play with Pearls: and (for glass) the windows are of broad Diamonds. Hunter's there have no horns but the Unicorns; no water runs there but Scamander, Simois, Aganippe, Hippocrene, and the like. There are no hills but Olympus, Ida, and Parnassus. No valley but Tempe of Ascra and Margiana; no men but of the offspring of Scipio African, julius Caesar, Alexander the Great, Hector, Hannibal and Hercules.  Van. 
It is a pleasant Country sure!  Lor. 
I will now tell you the conditions of our neighbour Nations. The Spaniards are humble, the Italians chaste, the French peaceful, the Dutch sober, and the Irish cleanly. I came at last to Virginia, where I saw nothing more worthy mention then an honest woman who cast herself into the sea because no body would lie with her. In conclusion; at james Town Port I took horse, and the next morning (after a long and tedious journey) arrived in Wales.  Van. 
And what did you there Mr. Lorece?  Lor. 
As soon as I could I went to Merlin's Cave, which is obscurely situated on the top of a Beech, where all the night he lay on the ground.  Van. 
What was he Sir?  Lor. 
He was an intricate Prognosticator of firmamental Eclipses, and vaticinated future Occurrents by the mysterious influences of the sublime Stars, and vagabundical Planets; generated he was by the inhuman conjunction of an Incubus; And was immured alive in a cave, by the preeminent Magic of the Lady of the Lake.  Van. 
You frequent Plays, do you not?  Lor. 
They are most commonly my afternoons employment.  Van. 
I like him the better for it.  — Aside. Van. 
And you have read many Histories?  Lor. 
Many, Lady. I am a worm in a book, I go through them.  Van. 
This pleases me too  — aside. 
Farewell Sir.  Lore. 
Admired Philoclea, leave me not so.  Van. 
What would you have?  Lore. 
Your consent Lady.  Van. 
Expect that a month or two hence.  Lore. 
Dear Vandona, sweet Mistress!  Van. 
Indeed you must.  Lore. 
Nay, sweet Oriana.  Van. 
Y'are two importunate.  Lore. 
Excellent Claridiana, Polinarda, Taurana, Bradamant.  Exit Van. 
It makes no matter, I am sure to have her: how some women are taken with strange tales!  
Next time we meet I do not doubt to get her,  
Hercules could not woo a Lady better.  Ent. jaques. 
Now my old Anchises! how dost true penny! Be merry jaques.  jaq. 
Is she tender-hearted?  Lor. 
Respectful and pliant.  jaq. 
Good truth I am glad on't Sir; my Lady (though I say it) is of a very good nature, my mind always gave me she would be coming on.  
I beseech your Worship to be a good Master to me.  Lore. 
Thou shalt find me so.  Exuent.  

Scena secunda.  Enter Cleanthe sola. Cle. 
IMperious Love (that hatest whom thou woundest, and lovest those best thou dost let alone)  
If my obsequious duty unto thee  
Can move thee to commiseration,  
Instruct me how to win him, and (when I  
Disclose myself) assist a wretched woman;  
For it is in thy power to work my bliss.  
He dotes upon a Lady that regards  
None of those miseries he undergoes  
By languishing for her, with one fair stroke  
Thy ignominy redeem: thou art called blind,  
Because how thou dost shoot thou dost not mind.  
But what avails it me thus to implore,  
Or rather to reiterate those deep wishes,  
Millions of hours can witness I have said,  
And yet find no help? Ah my dear, and ever  
Most loved Carionil, would thou wert so  
Strongly inflamed as I, or didst conceive,  
Truly didst know, what misery lies here!  
I think (though thou hadst sucked a ravenous Wolf)  
It would overcome thy nature, and thereby  
Transform my sorrow to felicity.  Enter Carionil. Car. 
I cannot hope, a letter I have writ  
To my Lucora, can find that acceptance,  
And bring so good success I wish it may:  
Sure never man so passionately ado'rd  
A Lady of so froward a disposition;  
If I could know the cause she is unkind  
I would destroy it, or destroy myself.  
Anclethe! art thou there my boy? alas!  
Why dost thou weep?  Clea. 
To see the sorrow you are always in,  
And not to know wherefore. Though I (Sir) am  
Both young and little, I both dare, and would  
Venture my life to do your any service  
That may redeem you happy days again.  Car. 
Alas poor boy! it is passed thy redress;  
Yet I do thank thee for thy love unto me.  Enter Rosinda. Cle. 
My Lord, a servant of my Lord Polidacres.  Car. 
Tandorix! what news?  Ros. 
The Lady Lucora commanded me to deliver this Paper to you.  Car. 
'tis most welcome, would my heart could read it.  Ros. 
I wish he had my daughter: for he's a noble gentleman.  Aside. 
My Lord, command you me any service?  Car. 
Only my dear respects unto the Lady that sent you.  Ros. 
Farewell Anclethe.  Exit Rosinda. Car. 
The Letter.  
SIR,  
I am sorry that (against my use) I cannot answer you more civilly; but I am blameless: The fault being in your foolish passion, and not my desire. If in fairer terms you should receive my reply, I am sure you would think it some beginning of love to you; according to your desire I have none, and I wish your love was so as mine, so we might be friends: yet I love you as a Gentleman of my acquaintance; but if any more you rouble me with letters or courting, I will hate you. So I end,  
Her own, Lucora.  
●er own Lucora! I cannot now conceive  
This Lady of a humane nature, sure  
A woman cannot have so harsh a mind,  
So I end! what will she end so always?  
O then that I might end even now! that all  
The sorrow that possesseth my whole body  
●n every member, would mutiny against  
My heart, that so I might die speedily!  
s it not miraculously strange, that this  
●oor microcosm, this little body, should  
Contain all the sorrow this great world can  
nflict upon it, and not sink beneath  
o huge a burden? one hill does overcome  
The struggling of Enceladus a Giant,  
And yet I stand, I live: what, am I of  
Lucora's temper, impregnable? oh, oh, oh!  Cle. 
Alas my Master! good my Lord, collect  
Your strength, and be not thus effeminate.  Car. 
I'm manly boy: for women cannot tell  
What thing affliction is, their stony hearts  
Relent so little at it in their lovers.  
Oh! I shall never have her! now I give  
Liberty to a just despair to wrack me:  
And it must ever do so. What a Chaos  
Of misery▪ is an unfortunate Lover!  Cle. 
I pray you (Sir) put off this vehemency of passion, she will relent.  Car. 
Never whilst I live.  Cle. 
She will indeed, I know she will.  Car. 
Wooed she would love me after I am dead for her:  
It were some happiness to think that, Anclethe.  Cle. 
I doubt not but she will shortly be yours (my Lord)  
And weep for joy to hear me make relation  
Of this same violent passion you are in now.  Car. 
Thou art a good boy, but this Lady, O my heart!  
Could sitting down in Cassiopeia's chair,  
And kicking proud Arctophylax from the sky;  
Could stopping the Septentrian sevenfold team,  
And putting out the starry Eagles eyes;  
Could swimming violently up those Rocks  
From which the Memphian Nilus tumbles down;  
Could the compelling of rash Phaeton's Sire  
To change his course, and run from north to South▪  
Could the adventuring to undertake  
A journey through Africa's dread'st wilderness,  
When the Aeolians do loudest breath,  
And vale the Sun with sandy mountains height;  
Enforce her to repent the Tragedy  
By these attempts drawn on me, she should find  
What truth of love was in her servants mind.  Clea. 
Keep back his hands, O heavens, from violent deeds,  
Let him not offer injury against  
His own dear life.  Car. 
I have prattled too much: but I ha' done.  
No longer shall my happiness be delayed,  
Nor the displeased destinies any more  
Jeer the sad depth of wretchedness I live in,  
Thus— Here I fall her cruel sacrifice.  Clea. 
Hold, for heaven's sake hold.  Car. 
'tis too late to prevent:  
Patience Anclethe! commend me to Lucora,  
That Angel beauty without Angel pity:  
Tell her my woeful story, how (ere since  
Thou knewest me) I have languished for her;  
That I have spent whole nights in tears and sighs,  
What days in solitude to think of her;  
That I did suffer her unkindness, while  
I had a dram of patience left within me:  
Tell her how her most cruel letter raised  
A despair higher than my strength, and that  
Under her strange unkindness I am fallen.  
Weep not Anclethe! I am faint, struck dumb.  
Fly passionate soul into Elysium.  He faints Cle. 
O my dear Lord, brave young Carionil,  
I'll wash thy wound with tears, stop it with sighs:  
Unkindest day that ever wore the sun!  
Thou art accursed for giving light unto  
His hand to guide it to an act so much  
Beneath manhood. O me! I am undone!  
What now will my disguise avail me,  
Foolish sister Lucora! O ye heavens,  
Where lies our difference? are we not the same  
By birth on both sides, of one sex? sure nature  
Degenerates against itself, or this  
Untimely— O ye Gods I dare not name it,  
Nor will I believe it; he is alive,  
So suddenly the world cannot be ruined,  
Which is if he be lost; all virtue gone,  
All valour, piety, and every thing  
Mortality can boast of. My Lord, noble  
Carionil! he doth not hear me, alas!  
I am for ever most desolate of women▪  
Injurious heartstrings break, why do you tie  
Me to a life millions of degrees more loathsome  
Than the forgetful sepulchre of death?  
Would some commiserating benevolent star  
(Which carries fate in't) would in pity to  
My misery, take me from it: for love he  
Lies here this bemoaned spectacle; and shall  
My passion be undervalved? tears, nor sighs,  
Nor Dirges sung by me eternally,  
Can parallel our loves at full, 't must be  
The same way, and it shall; the same blade  
Shall be the instrument, and I receive it  
Tragediously here on my knees; wood some  
Kind body would inter us in one tomb:  
Be firm my hand, and bold.  Fal. 
Anclethe!  Enter Falorus. Cle. 
My Lord Carionil calls, is●t you! then—  Fal. 
But I must hold you, and bereave your hand.  Cle. 
And you may also die, your friend is slain;  
My noble Lord Carionil is dead,  
The paper in his left hand yet, that brought  
His reason into such subjection,  
That he even frantically did stab himself.  Fal. 
I will extend my life till I have read it.  He reads the Letter. 
This Lady is a rough blown sea, on which  
His worthy life has foully suffered shipwreck:  
I have her! not Mercury pleading in her defence  
With Oratory able to stint Ioves wrath  
(When he has bespoke thunderbolts of the Cyclops,  
To wreak some injury) should ever win me  
To her bed. Polidacre, mew her up  
Like Danae in a brazen fort, or else  
Make her to answer with her life this murder  
She's accessary to: proud piece of vanity!  
I do want words to give my thoughts expression;  
So much I hate her. Prithee Anclethe pardon  
My injury against thy rest, for holding  
Thee in a life so loathed as this is to thee:  
I'll lead thee.  Car. 
Oh, oh!  Cle. 
Withhold awhile my Lord: he groans.  Car. 
Thou art the cause Lucora, and I must not  
I blame thee:  
I struck not that blow right, but this shall do't.  
Wam fainter than I guessed, I have not entered.  
B hat! who has stole the Stiletto from me?  
oy! Anclethe, restore it as thou lovest me.  Fal. 
Carionil, I joy you are recovered:  
Death is grown courteous, or by this you had  
Been wand'ring in the Elysian groves.  Car. 
My friend Falorus!  Fal. 
Your loyal friend. Give me your hand and rise:  
— I'm glad to see  
Your wound no worse. 'twas care and willingness  
To die bereft you of your Senses. I will show you  
How you may win your Mistress— you hear me.  Car. 
I like it we ay: it may prevail, I hope  
It will.  Fal. 
Anclethe had slain himself had I not come.  Car. 
Good boy, thou wert too kind.  Cli. 
Indeed my Lord I never shall desire to survive you.  Car. 
Divulge my death.  Cle. 
I will not fail.  Fal. 
Why (my Carionil) would you engage  
So much yourself to any of that sex,  
As for a disrespondency to lay  
Violent hands upon yourself?  
Intruth (my friend) I wonder at it justly▪  
You merit more than they can satisfy  
With their endeavours all of them.  Car. 
Proceed not (good Falorus) in this language.  Fal. 
What good do women! old Amphitrite's face  
Is not so full of wrinkles, as they are Of▪ vices.  Car. 
No more, as you regard (what always yet  
You have professed) our long continued friendship.  

O women, most admired Creatures! how  
Can the just heavens these speeches so allow?  
What good do women! I do say what ill?  
Who do perform what men can only will.  
Why have we ears, if not to hear the sound  
And sacred harmony their tongues compound?  
Why have we tears, if not to weep when we  
Do chance a woman discontent to see?  
Why have we eyes, if not to look upon  
Their beauties, nature's high perfection?  
Why have we tongues, if not to praise them, when  
They slandered are by rail of ill men?  
Why have we reason all, if not to deem us  
Happy, because some women do esteem us?   Fal. 
You are their worthy champion: what I said  
Was out of passion for Lucora's dealing.  
I will report y'are dead.  Car. 
I shall be obliged unto you by't.  Exeunt. Enter Phyginois solus. Phy. 
My clothes are almost made, and every thing  
That does belong unto the habit of  
A gentleman, I have prepared me richly;  
For in these garments I dare not accost her.  
I had good fortune to come with Cleanthe,  
Who hath been very bountiful unto me.  Enter Polidacre, Rosinda, Antiphila, Lucora, and Nentis. Pol. 
Lady, I take it very kindly you  
Would do me such an honour as visit me:  
It shall be my study to deserve it.  Ant. 
My Lord, this is too ceremonious:  
Pray you let us walk.  
I much approve of this Air:  
I know no place so sweet about the City.  Ro. 
How observant he is! he would fain make it a match, and I think she is willing enough. But I shall prevent them with amazement.  
I will see further in it first.  Phy. 
The heavens (worthy gallants) be serene as long as you presume under the safety of them.  Pol. 
Know you this fellow Tandorix?  Ro. 
His name is Draculemion.  Pol. 
O! I have heard of him.  Luc. 
'tis some frantic.  Pol. 
What wind brought you hither?  Phy. 
That which (noble Sir) shall blow me all over the Universe to do you service.  Pol. 
I thank you for your compliment, your Captainly protestation.  Phy. 
Brave Bevy of gallants, my purse being Millions of degrees voider of money than my heart of courage, I desire to empty my mouth of words, to fill up the vacuum of it, if you please to lend me your attention, and afterwards to commemorate (with munificence) the worth of my Oration.  Pol. 
Sweet Antiphila, what say you?  Anti. 
He speaks so strangely I would hear him.  Pol. 
Draculemion, you know what to do.  Phy. 
Hail (but fair weather) I that have been the favourite of inconstant fortune, and termed worthily by the worshipful title of a gentleman, am now debased into an humble fugitive. Commiserate this wonderful change (most excellent Auditors) and let your recompense be a help, again to restore me, and a story to exalt me towards the fastigium of my pristine felicity, and (at your connivance) I will post afoot to Mexico, drink your healths till I'm sick, and kill any I hear speak irreverently of you. These, and more than these will I accomplish, though to my perpetual ignominy, or dissolution of my life, conditionally you will bestow fluently upon your slave so undeserving a little.  Dixi. Pol. 
Here's for all the company.  Phi. 
Will you give me leave to be grateful?  Pol. 
Yes surely.  Phi. 
I'll not desire the Muses to replete  
My willing genius with poetic heat:  
This subject doth transcend them: I'll desire  
Apollo to this Lay to touch his Lyre.  
Thou Charioteer of heaven, that dost invest  
Thy swift-hoofed Coursers in the dewy East  
(With harness worked by Mulciber) to light  
The world, and dissipate the clouds of night;  
For Phaeton's sake (not unto me unlike)  
Thy sweetest notes unto this ditty strike.  Pol. 
If the Exordium be so long, 'twill be tedious before the conclusion.  Anti. 
Dismiss him therefore.  Pol. 
Farewell Draculemion.  Phi. 
Would I might kiss thee before, Nentis.  - Aside Exit Phi. Pol. 
Madam, how do you like the Lord Falorus?  Anti. 
Very well my Lord.  Pol. 
Him I have often motioned to Lucora,  
And he hath consented to marry her, would it not  
Be a good fortune for her think you?  Ant. 
Indeed I think it would.  Pol. 
How say you now Lucora?  Ant. 
For he is a much applauded gentleman,  
Of good conditions, and of sweet behaviour,  
Whose company is every where acceptable;  
He deserves a good match, such a one as your daughter is.  Pol. 
How say you girl! was any thing I told you  
Of Falorus, a falsehood? Come prithee do thyself a good turn,  
And take him, do Lucora.  Luc. 
Dear Father, pardon me, indeed I have not  
Any desire yet to marry.  Pol. 
Sure you have! Bethink you, and speak wiser.  Luc. 
Truly I have not Sir,  Pol. 
Y'are a stubborn wench, and I am sorry  
It was my hard fortune to be thy father:  
Your shrewdness shall not carry you through so freely  
(As you believe it will) it shall not maiden.  Anti. 
Do not chide her. She will be ruled by you.  Luc. 
Indeed Madam I had rather live as I do.  Pol. 
No I believe not that. There is some one  
Or other far inferior unto him  
Whom she's in love withal, perhaps some vile  
Scum of the Town.  Luc. 
Dear Sir, you conceive amiss of me; for I  
Love no man yet, and hope I never shall  
Be of another mind.  Poli. 
'tis false, I cannot believe you.  Luc. 
If ever I should I'd hate myself to place  
Affection on a man of base birth, or  
Unseemly qualities.  Anti. 
Be not angry Sir.  Nent. 
I pray you marry (Madam) for it is  
A state wherein one may securely kiss.  Luc. 
Leave thy foolery,  Nent. 
O 'tis a fine thing to have a coach of ones own, to go to a play when you will,  
And be restrained from nothing you have a desire to do.  Luc. 
Marriage is no such liberty as you make it.  Pol. 
Think of my will: I give you time.  Exeunt all but Rosinda. Rosin. 
They have hard fortune (which the Gods remove)  
That (where they cannot) are compelled to love:  
I wooed she had Carionil; I esteem not the ancient Enmity  
Between the families.  Enter Phyginois. 
Now Draculemion, how do you?  Phy. 
At your beck, and in good health, brave sparks of generosity.  Ros. 
I must needs attend my Lord, otherwise  
We would have had one pint together.  Phyg. 
Thou art a jovial Lad. Farewell.  Ex. Rosin. 
O my Nentis! thou art a worthy Andromache, and dost deserve Hector the courageous Trojan Wagg.  Enter Philander. Phil. 
They are not here.  Phyg. 
I must to my trick again.  
Divine Apollo, and the Muses nine,  
Can ye behold his ruin, unto whom  
Ye have vouchsafed sacred Poesy?  
Or see him sleep under a hedge i'th' field,  
Who hath so often on Parnassus lain?  
Or seek the River for to quench his thirst,  
Who at Boeotian Hippocrene hath  
Pledged Mnemosyne in full-fraught Cups?  
Or wander bareleged, who upon the Stage  
Hath acted oftentimes in Socks and Buskins?  
Or see him tanned for want of an old Hat,  
Whose Temples (unto his immortal praise)  
Ye have so richly viewed begirt with Bays?  Phil. 
Daculemion! I am glad to find thee: l'●e have a speech.  Phyg. 
Your Worship shall.  
As yet the contentious night has not exterminated Hyperion from the celestial Globe; who daily useth to hawk with the firmamental Eagle, and to hunt Ursa Major round about the Forest of the sky, to go to plow▪ when he wants Corn with Taurus, and (when he is hungry) to eat Aries, and at night (when he comes i'th' West) to court the Lady Virgo to be his bedfellow, whom because he cannot obtain, he lashes on his horses, and goes and reports his stubbornness to his friends at the Antipodes. Nor as yet hath the Trumpeter Boreas blown stormy Clouds into our Horizon to deprive our eyes from the powerful radiance of his orbicular and refulgent head. Nor as yet am I weary to do you service, nor will be while I am able.  Phil. 
Here's for you.  
What a wordy nothing thou hast spoken?  Phyg. 
You have given me current silver for it.  
Y'are a bountiful gallant.  Exit. Phil. 
My father is my Rival, and I find  
To him Antiphila is most inclined.  
What the Fates will we never can prevent,  
And (till the end) we know not their intent.  Exit.  
FINIS Actus Secundi.   

Actus Tertii.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Falorus solus. Fal. 
A Potion he hath took, and is o'ercome  
By the deceitful working of't, and lies  
As if he had no interest in this life.  
Lucora I have sent for, that we may  
See how she'll take it, for by her carriage now  
We shall perceive if there be any hope.  Enter Cleanthe. 
What will the Lady deign her presence here?  Cle. 
She will my Lord.  Falo. 
'tis well.  Cle. 
And is at hand of entering.  Falo. 
Prithee Anclethe, bid them bring out my friend.  Exit Cleanthe. 
Though once Carionil did not believe  
My protestations to him to relinquish  
All title to Lucora, yet I meant it:  
Were she a Lady far more excellent,  
And richer in the ornaments of Nature;  
Did she exceed the fairest of her Sex  
More than fine-featured Mars the ugliest Satire;  
Were her tongue Music, and her words enchanting,  
And her conditions gentle like a Goddess.  
I'd rather carry Aetna in my breast,  
Then be disloyal to my friend, far rather.  Enter Cleanthe, and Servants putting forth a Bell▪ with Carionil upon it. 
Thou art most dutiful, Anclethe;  
O Art! Nature's most curious imitatresse,  
How like a body late deprived of life  
Does he lie sleeping without motion!  Enter Lucora, and Nentis. Cle. 
My Lord, the Lady Lucora,  Fal. 
Draw back:  
But stay you here Anclethe.  Exeunt Servi. 
I thank you Lady for this favour to us;  
Were Carionil alive he would requite it.  
He would unto the utmost.  Luc. 
My Lord,  
I'm sorry that a gentleman reputed ever  
Most wise, and voiced by a general fame  
To be complete and perfect in all goodness,  
(The which Carionil was) should thus destroy  
The great opinion all the world had of him:  
His depriving himself of his own life  
For that foolish affection he bore me,  
(I having often told him that he spent  
His service barrenly, and that it would  
Yield him no fruit) was such a weakness in him,  
That his lives honour his death's shame hath ruined.  
Hither I came at his dying request,  
Which (his Boy told me) was to have me see  
What my obdurateness hath urged him to;  
For so he termed it: his desire is satisfied:  
Were he alive again I could not love him.  
Si●, I should love him less for the poor weakness  
This act accuses him of, I should, believe me;  
And so my Lord I take my leave.  Nent. 
Had I been his Mistress he had lived.  — Aside. Fal. 
Stay Lady,  
Show more respect, for truly he deserved it.  Clean. 
But kiss his lips, if you will do no more.  Luc. 
The Boy and all.  Clean. 
Speaks reason.  — Aside Luc. 
His will I have accomplished. Farewell Sir.  Exeunt Luco. and Nent. Fal. 
Hath she a heart? or if she have, what metal or stone is it of?  
Dost thou not think (Anclethe) that man happy  
Who's free from all the molestations  
That are concomitants to affection,  
And to the grievous bondage of a woman?  Cle. 
My Lord contingently.  Fal. 
Thy timeless inexperience doth deceive thee.  
Believe me boy, there does not live a woman  
Who more than complementally is my Mistress.  Cle. 
Sir, you do not fear to love one of them?  Fal. 
Yes: and the Gods keep me still in that fear.  
Sure such another as Lucora put out Cupid's eyes.  
O women, women!  Cle. 
Truly my Lord I do believe all Ladies  
Are not cruel; indeed I do.  Fal. 
Thou art too young to be suspected, otherwise  
I should think that some subtle false one had  
Beguiled thy youth. Nature has worked the Potion out.  Cle. 
My Lord recovers strength.  Car. 
How ist?  Fal. 
How does my friend?  Car. 
Repeat my destiny.  Fal. 
Receive it with as calm a quietness  
As I deliver it: your ear!  — Privately. Cle. 
Vouchsafe him patience, O ye Gods.  Car. 
When huge-waved Rivers from the earth's high banks  
Precipitate themselves into the Ocean,  
Will stillness follow? Can you think then, can you,  
I may be quiet? was jove so, when the great  
Brood of the Earth, the Giants did assay  
Olympus' conquest? Can I then a poor  
Dejected man be calm; when all the misery  
The world can send it pours on me fully?  
Aeolus, run thy venturous sword again  
Into the Rocks, and give an Issue to  
The winds, that they may with their ireful blasts  
Remove the world from off it's steadfast hinge.  
Or blow the Pole-Stars out, and so let fall  
This Globe we breathe on. Or (by whirlwinds force)  
Both Sexes collect together, and carry them  
Int places opposite; The one into  
The Arctic, the other the Southern Regions,  
And let them of themselves propagate the like:  
So women's Tyrannies can do no ill,  
And men perform what one another will.  Fal. 
This favours frantically.  Cle. 
Deprive him not of reason, but exalt  
Him to himself, O heavens! Ah me!  Car. 
'tis true. The sea is always full of water,  
(The Lands do relieve it) and yet has no cause  
For lamentation, but woeful man  
Hath but a few, indeed a very few  
Salt tears to mollify the burdenous draught  
Of misery which his malignant Stars  
Compel him to endure.  
What? his Mistress venom obstinacy? not possible,  
'tis unsufferable, above our frail carriage.  Fal. 
The word friend, ways all titles of honour down,  
And therefore not by them, but that I beseech you  
Not to neglect yourself. I've lately known  
The time when death almost inevitable  
Could not unfix your thoughts. This cause is weaker.  Car. 
How!  Fal. 
Believe me friend.  Car. 
Believe you! I would believe thee friend,  
Didst thou affirm absurdest contraries:  
That the Sun was extinguished, and the bright  
Moon was blown out, and all the Stars were fallen,  
And nature (yet harmonious) disordered  
Into another Chaos, I would believe you:  
For rather than you should pronounce a falsehood,  
Things that are not would be.  Fal. 
Alas! you are distempered;  
I grieve to see you so for so poor a cause.  Car. 
It is a weighty one, and if the brave  
Famed offspring of Alcmene had endured it,  
He had enlarged his labours to thirteen,  
And been another wonder to the world.  
But (noblest friend) you know the History,  
How he the knotty club did lay aside,  
Put off the rough Nemaean skin, and donned  
Maidens apparel, for the love he bore  
To ruin'd Picus daughter, young jole.  Fal. 
But he ne'er offered violence to himself.  Cle. 
He did not Sir, be counselled by your friend,  
Do my good Lord.  Car. 
He had not cause, she did return him love;  
And (except in this case) I would suffer  
Beyond expression from another hand,  
Without a thought to use my own. But you  
May say I'm passionate: 'tis right, I am so  
I know't, and you cannot expect less from me.  
Were I as free from love as you have known me.  
You should not tax me with that fault, although  
Unstable fortune made an Irus of me:  
But you may call this boasting.  Fal. 
Far be it from me, 'tis a perfect truth.  Cle. 
Ah, Alas!  Car. 
Leave sighing boy prithee.  Fal. 
Come,  
You shall be temperate again (my friend)  
And have fair likelihood to obtain your Lady.  Car. 
Impossible!  Fal. 
I've formed the plot already, you must be, draw near.  Car. 
How a Negro, an Ethiopian! 'tis frivolous.  
She is too obdurate, most obstinate.  Fal. 
Hath she not refused the bravest and handsomest gentlemen of this kingdom?  
You cannot deny it. Be therefore counselled,  
She that cannot love a man of a better complexion,  
On one of them may settle her affection.  Car. 
I have some hope again, you shall stay with my friend, refuse it not I prithee.  
For many conveniences it is necessary; I every day shall see thee, and shortly will take thee again.  Cle. 
My Lord, I beseech you.  Car. 
Nay, my Anclethe let me not use words,  
As thou dost love me deny me not.  Cle. 
Sir, I am charmed, and will obey you.  Fal. 
Come, le's walk, and I'll instruct you fully.  Exeunt Omnes.  

Scena secunda.  Enter jaques solus drunk. 
THis London wine is a perilous liquor; 'twill turn you a man's head so long round, that at last 'twill set it where his heels should be: another glass on't had proved me a reeler, a cotqueane, which I was never brought up to; I learned a song of my old graham, many a good ballad she would have sung me by the fire side o'er a black pot, but your city wine is a more stinging liquor. She left me a very fair cow, but a villainous thief stole me her, (foul cheeve him for it) and escaped I know not whither: but all's won, much good do him with it, my Lady's Worship's service is better than a team of oxen. But the song must not be forgot.  


1.  
All that about me sit,  
Laugh at my pleasant wit,  
And neither cough nor spit,  
Till I have done a.   

For I will sing a song,  
That fitly shall be long,  
To a cow and not wrong  
Mount Helicona.   

2.  
Don Quixots Rosinant,  
And Sancho's ass errand,  
And Banks his horse do want  
What she may brag of.   

They would ones breech much gall,  
And give one many a fall,  
Sufficient therewithal  
To break one's crag off.   

3.  
That Jove did love a steed,  
I yet did never reed;  
But by all 'tis agreed  
Io he loved.   

No beast upon the field,  
Doth man more profit yield,  
Whither alive or killed,  
As may be proved.    
Well, I'll to my chamber and sleep awhile, otherwise ist ha a foul deal of do to keep me on my legs this afternoon,  Enter Lorece. 
jaques is now a very Barnabey!  Lore. 
jaques! so ho my boy!  Exit jaques. 
His ma●ch is extraordinary, sure the rogue's drunk,  
He's so very deaf—  
The report is that Doctor Aristotle cast himself into the sea, because he could not (with all his rambling Philosophy) find out the natural cause of the ebbing and flowing of it: but (had his good scholarship been troubled with my Mistress) he might a jolted out his brains against a rock, for his dulness in inventing a method of wooing to win her Ladyship withal. I here will sit and muse.  Sits in a private place. Enter Vandona and jaques. jaq. 
Indeed Madam I will be very serviceable unto you, if now and then you will suffer me to be blithe and full of merry moods.  Van. 
jaques! where ha you been?  ja. 
At the spigget. Is it not a very rainy wet day?  Van. 
Thou art well washed within.  jaq. 
'tis a very dark day: the sun shines clear tho.  Van. 
thou'st a light head jaques.  jaq. 
And yet I cannot bear't steadfast on my shoulders, wine's monstrous strong.  
Let me see who am I?  Van. 
thouart a fool.  jaq. 
The play's the better for't.  Van. 
Y'are a drunken coxcomb, go.  jaq. 
Thou captive Greek, I am a Beglerbeg.  Van. 
Thou wilt be a beggar and thou leav'st not thy drinking.  jaq. 
Thou me Roxalana! am not I the great Sultan?  Van. 
A booby.  jaq. 
You show your breeding to upbraid the Majesty of the Grand Signior.  Van. 
Peace, no more fooling.  jaq. 
You are drunk with north country Balderdash, you keep no wine, water your kitlings with beer, nothing but wine shall be drunk in my court.  Van. 
I shall be troubled with him else. Ambassadors wait your return at your Palace.  jaq. 
We will withdraw: send the Bashaes' after me, they shall present me wine.  Exit. Lorece discloseth himself. Van. 
Is he here?  
I shall be courted certainly, and perhaps shall yield.  Lore. 
Most welcome happiest Genius of my life,  
Dearest Vandona, let your lily hand  
every my lips.  Van. 
Y'are very complimental, servant.  Lore. 
Mistress, faith I love you, as for millions of causes,  
So also for a natural demeanour,  
It shows you are no offspring of the City.  Van. 
You would marry none, servant?  Lore. 
No, six thousand pounds cannot hide a squint eye, a crooked back, or a red head, or a muddy face, though they may gild them.  Van. 
This is very Satyrical, but there be Beauties of all coloured hair, eyes, and complexions.  Lore. 
I at any time will carry you to a Play, either to the Black Friars or Cockpit. And you shall go to the Exchange when you will, and have as much money as you please to lay out, you shall find me a very loving husband in troth dear Lady.  Van. 
But servant, you have been a very deboist gentleman.  Lor. 
Forget what y'ave heard, and you shall hear no more on't. But we are extravagant, come, let's toth' joiner.  Van. 
To whom, and for what Mr. Lorece?  Lore. 
To Hymen in his saffron coat, to be married.  Van. 
Some other time, a month hence will serve.  Lor. 
Then must I court another bout.  Van. 
What you please Sir.  Lor. 
O Cupid the Bowman,  
I am not thy foe man;  
For I love this woman,  
As well as I know man.  
And therefore I pray thee,  
From mischief to stay me;  
And quickly to lay me  
In bed with this Lady.  Van. 
What call you this Sir?  Lor. 
'tis my imploration, and ode.  Van. 
Y'are very fluent Sir.  Lor. 
And yet neglected. But I'll make Cornelius Gallus speak English, and he shall woo for me.  Van. 
What say you servant?  Lor. 
Be you attentive, and you shall hear.  
My sweet Vandona, fine and comely lass,  
(Whose beauty Milk and Lilies doth surpass,  
And the sweet Roses, both t●● white and red,  
Or Indian Ivory new polished)  
O spread, O spread abroad thy yellow hair,  
Like glorious gold, shining all out as fair:  
Thy purest Alabaster neck, and shows  
Which (from between thy graceful shoulders)  
Open thy Starry eyes, and let us view (grows;  
Their brows above them of a Sable hue:  
And both thy Roseal cheeks let us espy  
Beautified with a natural Tyrian die.  
Put forth thy lips, their Coral let us see,  
And (Dovelike) gentle kisses give to me.  Kisses her. 
Of amorous life my breath did draw out part:  
Those kisses pierced meto the very heart.  
Why didst thou suck my blood (O cruel she?)  
Henceforth thy dugs (like Apples) hide from me,  
Which with Ambrosiac cream shall swell thy breast,  
Discloseth Cinnamon I yield, and best  
Delights arise from thee: yet thy Paps cover,  
Whose growth, and beauty, do make me a lover:  
For seest thou not, that languishing I lie?  
A man half dead how canst thou thus destroy!  Van. 
This is mere flattery.  Lor. 
'tis but a spark (Madam) an almost invisible atom of truth, which can scarce be discerned in the Sunshine of your perfections, credit me Madam  Van. 
They are most childish will believe all that their servants say, my most poetical Servant.  Lor. 
Most obdurate Lady.  Van. 
Will you wrangle?  Lor. 
Was ever Widow so hard to win? Sure your husband got not your maidenhead you are so backward.  Van. 
Adieu Sir.  Lor. 
Not yet I pray you sweetest Lady, if—  Van. 
Pray you trouble me with no more speeches.  Lor. 
O cruel reply to a Lover's suit!  
If ever you have felt this passion's pain,  
If ever you would pitied be yourself,  
Or if you know that Love hath power to kill;  
For all these (which you heretofore have been  
Subject unto) commiserate a heart  
So full of love for you that it will break.  
If you deny:  
But if you will remain inexorable,  
And frown on him who aye must fawn on you,  
I wish my fortune may be yours, and that  
If ere you love you may be served so.  Van. 
I'm but a woman, and these words would move  
A stupid rock to pity, Sir I can  
Resist no more, your tongue has magic in't:  
You have overcome me, and enjoy your conquest.  Lor. 
My dear widow, let me kiss thee for this! thy dare of wearing black is almost out. O my joy! methinks I could outsing old Homer, the nine Muses, and put their Patron Apollo our of fame.  Enter Falorus, Ceanthe and Phyginois in brave apparel. 
My Vandona, yonder is my brother, he will be glad to hear of my good fortune.  Fal. 
Who's he?  Clea. 
A friend of mine (my Lord)  Fal. 
I shall be desirous (Sir) both for your own, and for Anclethes sake, to be better acquainted with you.  
May I demand your name?  Phy. 
Your servant is called Phyginois.  Fal. 
How have you sped brother?  Lor. 
She will be called your sister: salute her, go kiss her for't.  Fal. 
Lady, I hope my brother will deserve you,  
By proving an affectionate husband to you.  Phy. 
Madam, I am a stranger, but will endeavour to make myself known unto you by any service I can do you.  Van. 
Thank you Sir.  Phy. 
My Nentis doth excel her sister  — Aside. Lor. 
Come brother, will you go with us?  Fal. 
I'll wait upon your Mistress.  Exeunt Fal. Lor. Van. Cle. 
My faithful friend, may all thy wishes prosper,  
And a fair end crown them most happily.  Phy. 
Sweetest of Ladies!  Clea. 
Thou didst prefer goodness before the raising of thy house.  Phy. 
It grieved me to think so noble a Lady should be so poorly disposed of;  
My brother's birth, nor forunes could deserve you.  Cle. 
I was ignorant, and might have undone myself.  Phy. 
I did pity you.  Cle. 
And ever have obliged me to you for't.  Phy. 
If your sister's woman Mistress Nentis be obstinate, and you prosper;  
Hereafter you may do me a multitude of favours.  Cle. 
I ne'er will fail to do the best I can; now let us follow them.  
Love is a passion not to be withstood;  
And (until hearts be mutual) never good.  Exeunt.  

Scena Tertia.  Enter Carionil solus like a Negro, in strange apparel. Car. 
AN hour's life is like the various year,  
Which hardly bears one form a fortnight's space:  
He sure deserves respect that to obtain  
His Mistress, thinks all trouble a content.  
These two years have not had so many quarters  
As I disguises, scarce as many days  
As I devises, and yet to no purpose:  
What I may do in this I cannot guests;  
But for mine own purpose must hope the best.  
My late long residence i'th' Spanish Court, when I lay there Leaguer Ambassador,  
Hath made me speak the Castilian language perfectly;  
Which will be my great furtherance, because  
Polidacre affects that tongue exceedingly;  
And I know will gladly give me a free access  
Unto his house at all times.  
Estoy yo (como due) muy lobrego;  
Porque de mi, Lucora haze un Negro.  Enter Polidacre, Lucora and Nentis. 
They shall not see me yet.  
Sir, your daily importunities have so moved me that I must yield unwillingly, only I request to have our marriage deferred a month dear Sir, do not deny me this.  Pol. 
I thank thee girl.  Enter Falorus. 
Welcome Falorus: my daughter's yours after four weeks be past.  Fal. 
Worthy Sir, y'are too bountiful. Most excellent Lady, you will make my fortune envied. I must dissemble yet, for I will not wrong Carionil.  Nen. 
I like this well.  Luc. 
But I will rather die then have him  — Aside. Car. 
I do not doubt my friend.  Pol. 
I have laboured much for you.  Car. 
Now I'll disclose myself, and counterfeit the Negro as well as I can.  

Taken forth of Acaucana.  
Y pues en todos triempos, y occasiones  
Por la causa comun sin cargo alguno,  
En battallas formadas, y esquadrones  
Puede usar delas armas cadauno:  
Por las mismas ligitimas razones  
Is licito combate de uno a uno,  
A pie, a cavallo, armada, disarmado  
Orasea campo, abieto, or a estocado.   
Don Carionil, would I could hear of thee!  Luc. 
He is the bravest proportioned African I ever saw.  — Aside. Pol. 
I will speak to him.  
Habla (voste) yngles?  Car. 
Yes Sir I learned your language at Brussels.  Pol. 
I shall be most glad (Sir) to be acquainted wi● you.  Car. 
Grave Nelides years be doubled (most honourable Hero upon you; your courtesy has won one of the greatest Ethiopian Lords to become your servant.  Luc. 
What an unequalled carriage he is of!  — Aside. Car. 
You look, Sir, like a noble Gentleman, I salute you.  Fal. 
Well, Don Carionil mayst thou prosper, your Mistress has consented a month hence to marry me, but doubt me not my friend.  Car. 
According to the Ethiopian custom,  
Great Lady, I adore your pantofle.  Luc. 
You are a worthy, and a noble Moor.  Car. 
This is your shadow; you shall command me fair one.  Nen. 
Thank you Sir.  Pol. 
I heard you mention Carionil.  Car. 
'tis true,  
When we were in the Spanish Court together,  
I being commanded thither an Ambassador  
From th' Emperor of both the Ethiopias'  
And of the mighty kingdoms and vast countries  
Of Goa, Caffares, Fatigar, Angote, Xoa,  
Barn, Balignazo, Adea, Vangue and Goyamine,  
He wronged me, and I am come hither to seek him;  
And with my sword to punish his rude language.  
If you will tell me (Sir) where I may find him,  
You shall eternally oblige me to you.  Pol. 
He is lately dead Sir.  Car. 
You do but jest.  Fal. 
I was with him when he died.  Car. 
Then he had not so honourable an end as I intended him.  Pol. 
If I should not seem too inquisitive, I would desire to know your quarrel.  Luc. 
I am much taken with this object  — Aside. Car. 
You may command me any thing.  
We meeting in the presence one afternoon  
('Mongst many things) did happen to discourse  
Of Ladies; he said that none of all the world  
Were so beautiful as the Spanish:  
I that had read in many histories  
The English have the best and loveliest faces,  
Did tell him so, yet could not change his mind;  
After long altercations he grew hot,  
Gave me the lie reproachfully; which forced me to tell him, that though I owed so much honour to both the Majesties of our great masters, as not for private wrongs to disturb our Embassies: I meant before I died to visit his country, and call him there unto a strict account.  Pol. 
I thank you for your free relation;  
While you intent to stay in England, use  
My house at your pleasure, I pray you do,  
Your company will be always welcome to me;  
And I love the Castilian language, which  
You speak both readily and purely:  
May I demand your name?  Car. 
'tis Tucapelo, and I'm subject to  
Great Prestor john (whose powerful Sceptre awes  
Sixty two Kings) and in Garama live  
Magnificent for silken palaces.  Fal. 
His behaviour is without suspicion  — A side. Pol. 
'tis dinner time or nigh, pray you be my guest; You shall be very welcome (Sir) both now and at all times.  Car. 
I'll wait upon you.  Pol. 
Falorus, let me entreat your stay.  Fal. 
You shall command me.  Ex. Pol. Car. Fal. Luc. 
Injurious tyrant Love! Nentis!  Nen. 
Madam.  Luc. 
Stay a little.  
How frail is any woman's resolution!  
I that so seriously have often thought  
Never to change my name, am now become  
A slave unto a Moor; I feel the mighty  
Fabric of all maiden virtue totter.  
What may befall me worse? but I may as well  
Withstand a volley of shot, and as easily,  
As resist these new desires: 'tis very strange  
That I who have denied the earnest suit  
Of so complete a Gentleman as was  
Carionil, and neglected his friend,  
(For I will rather steal away, and do  
Mean services to my inferiors,  
Then be his wife) should dote upon a person  
Some Ladies scarce dare look upon, a Moor,  
A sunburnt Moor I'm ●tter stranger to.  
What would my father say if he should know  
My thoughts? banish me ever from his sight,  
And never more think of Lucora's name.  
But Love is not confined to the opinion  
Of others. O this is a revenge for my  
Slighting of brave Carionil; yet if  
He were alive again I could not love him.  
Alas I am undone! O that my Fates  
Had been so kind as to have wrought my heart  
Fit and propense to have requited him?  
Nentis, will you be silent of my love?  
Be so good Nentis.  Nen. 
Why, Madam, will you have this Blackamoor? me thinks my Lord Falorus is a handsomer man by much. Alas! he will take you beyond sea.  Luc. 
Nothing is strong enough to divert me.  Nen. 
Your secrets (Madam) are as safe in my breast as yours.  Luc. 
Befall what will, I am resolved.  
Affection that doth tend  
Not crookedly, but to a noble end,  
Is worthy; and they stubbornly repine  
At their creation who from it decline.  Exeunt ambae.  
Finis actus tertii.   

Actus quarti Scena Prima.  
Enter Phylander and Antiphila. Phy. 
SWeetest Antiphila!  Anti. 
I wonder Sir, in what I have so forfeited my faith that I cannot be credited.  Phy. 
Urge me not, Lady, unto a belief,  
That will be my destruction:  
Delay me rather with a little hope,  
And save me from despair.  Ant. 
I can but say what I have said already.  
You do not trust my tongue; Pray take a parchment,  
And there inscribe a sad and solemn Oath;  
And I'll subscribe that I will never have you.  Phy. 
The fatal Ravens hoarse crying  
Is Thracian Music unto your reply.  
Would I had heard a thousand Mandrake's groan,  
So you had left me in silence.  Ant. 
I pity you, but did you know me truly, you would bless my denial (young Philander.)  Phi. 
Bless it! O Lady,  
Durst I but be so horribly profane  
As to curse any thing you please to do,  
I would go study imprecations, and  
Vent them in places that are haunted by  
Wild walking devils; but my grand affection  
Condemns that violence. Do not then suppose  
That though you were a Succubus, I durst  
Utter such impious breath. Be all the faults  
(That either truth or Poets fictions  
Have shown in women) in you, I will love you  
With serious admiration.  Ant. 
Sir, I will release your affection.  Phi. 
Impossible.  
●ot the fairest creature (by diligent search picked out  
Of all the infinite Myriad of beauties,  
Selected from the spacious kingdoms of  
The Earth, and I might choose her freely)  
Should win upon my heart to dispossess you;  
She should not Lady.  Ant. 
You will not hear me.  Phi. 
Then may eternal deafness seize upon me:  
Speak Lady, and though you do say the last  
Word I shall ever hear, I will with joy  
Be most attentive. The dark cave of sleep  
Is not more quiet.  Anti. 
I am contracted.  Phi. 
You are not Lady.  Ant. 
I am Sir.  Phi. 
Unto my father?  Ant. 
No.  Phi. 
Then sentence his sure death by naming him.  Ant. 
Will you destroy the man I love?  Phi. 
And you him that loves you?  Ant. 
What is done cannot be undone▪  Phi. 
It shall▪  Ant. 
You must not know his name therefore.  Phi. 
If there be any manhood in his breast,  
He shall dispose himself: I'll challenge him  
By such sure circumstances (and set the papers  
On public places by the Play-Bills) that if  
He dares but use a sword he will be known.  Ant. 
So you will publish my disgrace.  Phi. 
Too true, O Lady, dear Antiphila,  
Give me his name. I will not kill him foully,  
We will meet fairly: I may die upon  
His sword, and you thereby be freed from my  
Unworthy suit.  Ant. 
Sir, promise me one thing, and I will tell you.  Phi. 
Here is my hand, you shall charm me.  Anti. 
I must lie, and grossly, to be rid of his Courtship.  — Aside. 
It is Tandorix. You must not speak it unto any, or quarrel about it.  Phi. 
'tis not: you mock me (sweet Antiphila.)  Ant. 
Indeed Philander I do not.  
You will be secret for my sake, until  
I do release you of your promise.  Phi. 
Y'ave had my hand: silence must be my death.  Ant. 
I'll leave you Sir, and build upon your word,  
For I perceive you are displeased.  Exit Antiphila. Phi. 
This 'tis to be a fool: which is the truest,  
And briefest definition of a Lover.  
What fury fascinated so my senses,  
As wilfully to make me become a slave  
Unto the childish passions of a woman?  
On this occasion wood I understood  
The saddest Epithets of Necromancy,  
That I might join them to this sex: O my heart!  
I am o'ercome with rage, and will be rather  
A perjured Mahometan, and wade  
Through streams of blood into her arms, than a  
Soft-conscienceed ass, and let this villain have her:  
Could envious hell suppose a body of  
So delicate a composition, could  
Within it lodge a mind so poor and worthless?  
This is a woman's weakness▪ no, 'tis a baseness  
Cannot be matched in all the faults of man.  
But why am I so angry? I will show  
My fury, not in idle breath but deeds.  Enter Rosinda. 
And this shall be the time; thou base ambitious  
Slave, before we part thou diest.  Rosin. 
O good Sir, why? I ne'er offended you,  
Heaven knows I love you best of all the world,  Phi. 
Thou art the hindrance of all the bliss  
I could expect or wish for upon earth.  Ros. 
Sir, let me hear the reason of your rage,  
And (if you find that I have injured you)  
I will not beg for life.  Phil. 
Find it! I know it clearly,  
And will not honour thee, vile man, so much  
As't let my tongue join such unequal names.  Ros. 
I understand you not: Dear Sir, be plain.  Phi. 
Art thou prepared to die? if not, kneel here,  
And pray thyself into a readiness.  Rosin. 
Be not so violent.  Phi. 
Repent.  Ros. 
Let me understand my offence; the chrisom child  
Is not more innocent of wrongs to you,  
Then guiltless I.  Phi. 
The tears of Crocodiles!  Ros. 
I humbly do upon my knees implore you  
That you thus rashly will not take away  
The life you never can restore, and will  
Bewail for in an overlate repentance.  Phi. 
To heaven, and not to me make orisons.  Ros. 
I am resolved.  
For your deceased mother's sake (at whose  
Sad funeral letter I was entertained  
Into your father's family) and for  
Those tears and sighs, and sorrows she did weep,  
Groan, and express at her delivery of you,  
Be merciful unto a faultless stranger.  Phil. 
A tedious and an exquisite torture for  
Thy death▪ should not deter me from it. My mother  
(Could she arise out of her watery grave,  
Appear in both our views, and be an eloquent  
Suppliant unto me for thy life) should not  
Prevail to win me to it.  Ros. 
Then nothing will satisfy, keep in your sword;  
I am your mother, draw off this Periwig,  
And my face will establish your belief.  Phi. 
It does indeed; here prostrate on my knees  
For my rude language I do crave remission.  Ros. 
And you obtain it and my blessing too;  
But you deserve blame for your violent fury.  
O let me kiss your gracious hand, and seal  
My pardon on your happy lips.  
Why did you grieve us for the sad report  
Of your untimely end?  Rosin. 
You shall know all anon. But yet conceal  
My being, till your father's love be ripe,  
And grown mature for a second marriage;  
I pray you do.  Phil. 
Mother, I will.  
Now I've good hope Antiphila will be mine.   

Scena Secunda.  Enter Carionil, Lucora and Nentis. Car. 
And Lady you shall not wish any thing  
(If that an humane power can obtain it)  
But I will make it yours. I hope you do  
Not wrong my love with a suspicion  
That I cannot perform what ere I promise.  Luc. 
I do not, Sir, distrust your affection:  
But give me leave to doubt I shall not live  
According to my content in Aethiopia.  Car. 
Most noble Lady, I that have seen both places,  
Dare promise you, you will.  Luc. 
I cannot tell Sir, I must believe you.  Car. 
For these few words (whose sweetness doth exceed  
Vast and elaborate volumes of eloquence)  
May all the joys that ever have made happy  
The numerous Queens and Empresses that have  
Been ornaments and glories to the world,  
Meet unto their perfection in you.  Luc. 
My Tucapelo! when I did see you first,  
I fell in Love as deep as Lady could.  Car. 
And may I die when (in unperfect thoughts)  
You do repent your choice: Mistress, I can  
Make famous Gamara as pleasing to you  
As is your native Country: You shall find  
Delights above, not equal to your mind.  Luc. 
Sir, your company shall be all things unto me.  Car. 
You shall not touch one drop of water, but shall  
Be of more virtue than the Thespian spring,  
Where reverend Poets of the former times  
Quaffed off huge bowls to great Apollo's health.  
Young virgins (whose sweet voices do exceed  
Mnemosyne's daughters) shall sing you a sleep  
Each night, and (when you grace the happy woods  
With your rich presence) they shall make a consort  
With the innocuous queristers of the spring,  
To entertain the Mistress of my life.  (— Aside. Nent. 
And I go thither they shall teach me to sing—  Car. 
The Jewel-tippets of your ears shall weigh  
The curious points of precious Icicles,  
When Leo breathes hot vapours on the earth.  
Your sedulous slaves (enriched by noble blood)  
Shall bear your Litter through the tedious streets  
Of Gamara, while all the gallant youth  
Within it runs to wonder at your beauty.  Luc. 
I do believe you love me so much Sir,  
That you will show it all the ways you can:  
And I do thank you for it, and love you,  
And I will show it all the ways I can.  Car. 
O happiest speech my ears did ever hear!—  
Amphion's music made not such a sound;  
Nor Orpheus' Lute that tamed the stubborn spleen  
Of hell's inhuman dog, when he did play  
For the redemption of his ravished spouse;  
Nor Phoebus (when unto his gold-strung Lyre  
He for superiority did sing  
His sweetest Anthems and best Madrigals  
Against ambitious Pan) made harmony  
To parallel the sweetness of your tongue.  Luc. 
If that all my endeavours can deserve  
At this height your affection, by my fault  
It never shall decrease.  Car. 
You overact me much, but never shall  
Have thoughts beyond me.  Luc. 
I pray you spare my company a while;  
A while I would be private with my woman.  Car. 
Lady, I will do things unwillingly  
At your command: but give me leisure (fairest)  
To print my heart upon your heavenly lips,  
Ere my departure hence— The Ottoman Emperors  — Kisses her. 
In their immense Seraglio never saw  
Your matchless features in their numberless  
Successive multitudes. I am so blest,  
That my excessive joys cannot be guest.  Ex. Car. Luc. 
Nentis!  Nent. 
Madam.  Luc. 
Unfold thy heart unto me: Let me know  
What thoughts thou hast of me.  Nent. 
I may offend.  Luc. 
Indeed thou shalt not.  Nent. 
Then I do wonder (Madam) that you will  
Bestow yourself (I think) unworthily.  Luc. 
How!  Nent. 
This is unpleasing to you, I will be  
Hereafter silent: I have offended you.  Luc. 
No: proceed.  Nent. 
You are a Lady until now unstained  
With any blot (save obstinacy to  
The brave deceased Carionil) and will you  
Give the world reason, a good one (pardon  
My honest boldness (Madam) to tax your judgement;  
And (which is worse) your virtue for this choice?  
Is not Falorus far more worthy of you?  
Marry him (Madam) and live still in England.  
I'm sure my counsel would be seconded  
By all the friends you have, did they but know  
As much as I. But (Madam) if you have  
Settled your affection past recall, and are  
Resolved, I will be most obedient  
And secret unto all your purposes.  Luc. 
And wilt thou go to Aethiopia with me?  Nent. 
If I do get no Servant before, and if  
You will (if I dislike the country) give  
Me liberty to return home.  Luc. 
Most willingly.  Enter Falorus, Cleanthe, and Phyginois. Nent. 
My Lord Falorus.  Luc. 
Where?  Phyg. 
If I can find the least opportunity  
I will try (Nentis) of what metal thouart made.  Fal. 
I hope (Mistress) our company  
Is not unwelcome to you.  Luc. 
By no means Sir.  Fal. 
How gently it passed her tongue!  
For that sweet word I kiss your hand, dear Lady.  Luc. 
Where did you leave my father my Lord?  Fal. 
Above a reading Guicciardin.  Nent. 
Sir, I can perceive when I am flattered.  Phyg. 
Earnest expressions of love deserve a better name.  Nent. 
Why Sir, I cannot believe you love me.  Phyg. 
You need not doubt of that, Mistress, I do  
With as much fervency as servant can;  
I do beseech you Lady to believe me.  Nent. 
They are of easy faiths that believe all their servants say.  Luc. 
What ail you my Lord? you are not well.  Fal. 
Unwelcome guest away— I was thinking of—  Luc. 
Of what?  Fal. 
I ha' forgot— would they would all love me—  — Aside. 
I am most strangely altered on the sudden:  
My friendship (I fear) will be too weak a tye  
To make me silent.  Clean. 
My Lord!  Fal. 
Thou hadst a Master did deserve thee better.  Cle. 
But he is dead, and I am yours by his  
Last Legacy.  Fal. 
What wouldst thou say?  — Aside. Cle. 
I hope y'are well.  Fal. 
He has found out an alteration in me:  
I must beware of public signs. I was Privately▪  
Full of Carionil; my thoughts were busy  
Concerning him:  
Madam, I pray you pardon my neglect  
Of frequents visits; I have been too guilty.  Luc. 
You have not offended.  Fal. 
'tis your great goodness to say so.  Nent. 
This, Sir, is too importunate.  Phy. 
To slack (dear Mistress) but wink at my insufficiency.  Nent. 
You said, you love no woman in the world  
But me.  Phy. 
And may you hate me if I do.  Nent. 
As I see you ready to give me full satisfaction that you mean faithfully, so shall you find me willing to requite you.  Phy. 
No man can boast such happiness.  Nent. 
Sir, be moderate; y'are not so sure of me, but (upon occasion) I can retire; neither would I have the company take notice of us.  Phyg. 
You shall command me (Mistress)  Fal. 
These passions are new to me: wooed I were private.  
I never did observe her so well before.  Luc. 
My Lord!  Fal. 
What say you (Madam?)  Luc. 
You saw not my brother Philander to day?  Fal. 
No truly Lady I did not.  Luc. 
Your brother (Nentis says) shall shortly be married to  
The rich widow her sister.  Fal. 
So he doth hope.  Enter Tandorix. Rosin. 
Madam, dinner stays of you.  Luc. 
You hear my Lord.  Fal. 
Nay Anclethe, stay not for me, wait on the Lady: I'll follow immediately.  Exeunt▪ Luc. Nen. Phy. Clean. 
What ails me? let me see  
What is the cause of such an alteration  
I find within me: doubtless it is Love.  
To whom? to whom but to the worthiest  
And sweetest Lucora? Take heed, 'tis dangerous▪  
A sudden ruin so will seize my friendship,  
And prove my former protestations  
Feigned untruths. Cannot the noble name  
Of young Carionil prevent me? No,  
Nor certainty of all the evil wills  
Of all the friends I have;  
Were both our better Genius Orators,  
And here embraced fast my knees, and wept  
Miraculous tears (to quench the rising flames  
Lucora's irresistible eyes have kindled  
In me, or to drown this late impression Love  
Hath sealed upon my heart) I'd be as remorseless  
As the most stern and unremoved Scythian,  
And deafer than the people that inhabit  
Near the Egyptian Cataracts of Nile.  
But I am base, base to infringe the knot  
Of amity a long and serious knowledge  
Of each other hath tied betwixt us. 'twere safer  
Sailing with drunken Mariners between  
Hard Sylla and Charybdis, then to suffer  
My much divided thoughts, and forth of them  
To work such a conclusion to my passions,  
As might hereafter confirm me noble in  
Th' opinion of the world: but I'm most ignorant,  
And know not what to do. Wood I were so  
Distraught, that my own self I could not know.  Exit.  

Scena Tertia.  Enter Lorece, and Vandona. Lor. 
Sweet Mistress, your bounty will become  
An envy unto future times.  Van. 
So let your love Sir.  Lor. 
But speak (my Dear) what happy day shall give  
A fair conclusion unto all my wishes?  Van. 
What haste good servant?  Enter Jaques. Lor. 
Nay be not angry Sweet.  ja. 
Madam (and please you) your own good servants desire to show your Worships some pretty pastime.  Van. 
It pleases us well: when begins it?  jaq. 
E'en presently; I'll go and tell them all what a good woman you are.  Exit Ja. Lor. 
This is not usual with you?  Van. 
Indeed Servant so seldom, that I remember not the like:  
Sure 'tis for your entertainment; they think I have  
Been a niggard of it, and help to make it out.  Lor. 
You are too good.  Van. 
So you can never be.  Lor. 
And yet I will not fail to do my best.  Van. 
I pray you do not (dear Lorece) for 'tis a good resolution.  Enter Clownish Maskers. Lor. 
I see we shall have some odd thing.  Van. 
I wish Sir▪ it may prove worthy your laughter.  Lor. 
My fair Vandona, I believe you will have your desire.  Van. 
jaques is among them: he may move you.  jaq. 
An'ether of you ask what's here, 'tis a Mask  
Which we Actors do hope will content you:  
If not, when it ends let us all part friends,  
And of your attention go in and repent you.  
I hope your Worships will say I have pronounced this well enough.  Lor. 
To my content honest jaques.  Van. 
I'm glad you like it.  Ja. 
Come Hymen, thou fellow that always wear'st yellow,  
Draw near in thy Frock of Saffron;  
Once more I say appear before this gentleman here,  
And this Lady in the white apron.  
If the boy thou dost bring hath a voice fit to sing,  
Le's have a merry new Ballet:  
Begin thou the Song, and it will not be long  
(We hope) before he will follow't.  

A Song.  Hymen. 
Say, Boy, who are fit to be  
Joined into an unity?  Boy. 
They that will permit their wives  
To live pleasant quiet lives,  
And will never entertain  
Thoughts of jealousy, if vain.  Hym. 
Now Boy let this couple hear  
What should be the woman's care.  Boy. 
A wife should be secret, true,  
Most obedient, and no shrew;  
Should obey her husband's will,  
While therein she finds no ill.  Omnes. 
Such a Wife and husband too  
We do wish both him and you.   Lor. 
Prithee Sweet lets be married this afternoon, and this shall be our Epithalamion.  Van. 
Stay my leisure good servant: 'twill not belong.  jaq. 
Now if you please to cast a glance Hither, ye shall see us dance:  
Fiddlers play, begin and strike: What ye see do not dislike.  They dance. Lor. 
What a mad toy 'tis Mistress!  Van. 
jaques! this day use my wine-cellar, you and your company  
May be as free in it as you will.  Hym. 
Her Ladyship says well: Good now ho le's go thither,  
Without more ado.  jaq. 
Goodman Wedlock, where was your mind marvel? Is there not a piece behind yet? I'll not budge a foot till I have discharged it.  Hym. 
Out with it then.  jaq. 
Mr. Marriage, put me not out with your grining: for an you do all's spoiled.  

Gentleman and Madam, you have seen  
What our Mask and performance hath been:  
If you like both 'tis well; and if but one,  
Of the other wood we had done none.  
For clapping of hands we care not two chips;  
We are satisfied if you join your lips.   Lor. 
I thank you all.  Van. 
And so do I: you now may go.  jaq. 
And so we must, for I ha' done. All's done: this last (what do you call,) was the full end of it.  Hym. 
Why go we not?  Boy. 
I am very dry with singing and dancing.  jaq. 
Follow me to the wine-cellar.  Exeunt Maskers. Van. 
You must keep your promise: you are expected by this.  Lor. 
Lady, I ki●● your hand: This is my vale as often as I come.  
I'll seal my welcome on your lips. Farewell widow.  Van. 
Remember my service to your brother.  Lor. 
Command me any thing.  Exeunt Ambo.  

Scena Quarta.  Enter Carionil Solus. Car. 
The tedious winter of my many griefs  
Her calmer heavenly breath hath now blown over;  
And all my tears and sighs are now converted  
Into a happiness will soon be perfect.  
The gallant Courtier Paris Alexander  
(When he had stole the young Atrides Bride,  
The sister of the two Tindarides,  
And with great triumphs entered into Troy)  
Was sad and melancholy unto me.  
How wise the Fates are! Ere we can obtain  
Perfect frnition of the thing we love,  
We must break through great difficulties & tedious,  
Unto the end that we may more esteem  
And prise our happiness when we achieve it.  
Thanks (excellent Lady) for your gracious promise:  
May every Lover henceforth bless your tongue.  
●he hath prefixed this hour to be the time  
Wherein I shall out-grow all hope, and fix  
Upon the proudest height of fortune's wheel.  
Hail happy hour! This is her chamber window,  
And this the door whereby she must escape.  Enter Lucora and Nentis above. 
Shine well ye stars, and let this project find  
Your influences to a lover kind.  Nen. 
See Madam, he is come: My Lord Tucapelo has not trespassed on a minute.  Luc. 
Then is our parting near: your new servant hath prevented your journey.  Car. 
Nentis!  Luc. 
Most honoured Tucapelo, I am here  
In presence to give answer to my Love.  Car. 
Are you ready worthiest Lady?  Luc. 
I am, my Love.  Car. 
Neglect your Jewels: Gamara shall supply you.  Luc. 
I care for nothing if I have but you.  Car. 
Descend (my Dear) each minute is an age  
Until I crown my joys with your possession.  Luc. 
I come. Nentis farewell: report that my  
Escape was vuto thee unknown, and that  
I stole away when thou wast fast asleep:  
I would not have thee blamed for me. Excuse  
Me to my father all the ways I have  
Instructed thee in.  Descendunt. Car. 
Cynthia, triumph; and let thy brother hear  
His eyes did never witness such a stealth:  
Be proud in thy pale lustre, and make known,  
Apollo doth tell tales, but thou relst none.  
Not yet! how tedious seems a moment!  
Delays in Love  
Would raise impatience in Olympic jove.  Enter Lucora, and Nentis. 
But she is entered! welcome sweet Lucora,  
Above expression welcome, my crown of joy  
I would not change for an imperial Sceptre.  Luc. 
I am most happy in your love (dear friend)  
Thanks good Nentis: My woman cannot go with's.  Car. 
Then farewell Nentis.  Nen. 
May the propitious heavens crown both your heads with all fair fortune.  Car. 
Our thanks go with you.  Exit Nentis. Luc. 
It is your promise, Sir, that I shall live  
Without contradiction in my Religion,  
Enjoy my conscience freely: your vow was solemn.  Car. 
I do acknowledge it, and will perform it.  
— True— not to be denied, what a great frost chills my affection!  Luc. 
Then I'll be confident.  Car. 
You may:  
I am amazed, and lost within a wonder.  
Let me consider; have I cause to love  
A Lady that hath so much neglected me,  
That she hath preferred a Negro? And 'tis likely  
(When she knows me) will care as little for me  
As ere she did, and (if she meets with one  
Of this complexion I feign) confer  
Her perfect love upon the slave? 'tis clear,  
I have no reason to do it, neither will I;  
For I am free, know liberty again:  
This poor unworthiness in her hath loosed me.  
Would it not be a weakness in me (let me argue it)  
To bestow myself upon a woman of  
So obstinate a nature, that she loved me less  
When she believed that for her sake I had  
Done violence upon myself? It would be  
A matchless one, beyond example, and which  
Future times would admire, but not parallel.  Luc. 
Come, shall we hence? delay is dangerous.  Car. 
No; be it what it will.  Luc. 
We must not stay here long.  Car. 
Nor will we.  Luc. 
Alas! what ails my noble Tucapelo?  
You had not wont to answer me so slightly.  
Do you not love me still?  Car. 
No.  Luc. 
The heavens forbid! I am Lucora.  Car. 
I do confess you are, but must deny  
I love you.  Luc. 
I could endure your Sword with better ease:  
Use't, and revenge what ignorant ill I have  
Committed against you. I had rather die  
By your dear hand, then to return from hence  
With this strong poison in my breast.  Car. 
Kill you!  
Lady, I would not do it to obtain  
The Sovereignty of the Sea-parted Earth▪  
Live many years in happiness: I wish it  
With all my soul, else may I die unwept for.  
But give me leave to leave you, and bestow  
Laughter, not tears for my inconstancy.  
Think me unworthy of your worthy self;  
For I cannot love you, nor will marry you.  Luc. 
Surely you will. Have you a cause to be  
So merciless unto a passionate Lady,  
One that so truly wonders at your worths?  
I pray you (Sir) jest not so solemnly:  
Thunder is Music in my ears to this.  Car. 
I do not: credit me (most fair Lucora)  
I am in earnest, nor would I spend the time  
In words. Shall I call Nentis?  Luc. 
Rather call Basilisks to look me dead  
Then her, to help to mourn your unkind parting.  
O! do not thus: wherein am I deformed  
So suddenly, that you so soon should leave me?  Car. 
This is a trouble to yourself: you cannot  
Speak words enough to make me yours.  Luc. 
Can I not speak sufficiently! Then I  
Will try if there be Magic in my knees:  
Look (Sir) a Lady knelt to you for love, She knelt.  
To whom the noblest in the Realm have sued.  Car. 
All is in vain.  Luc. 
Thou man (that art more lasting in thy fury  
Then the Egyptian wonder through the storms  
Of many bleak tempestuous winters)  
Say worthless man, if it becomes thee well  
To let a loving Lady kneel to thee,  
And thou be merciless and not raise her ●p.  Car. 
I pray you rise.  Luc. 
And will you then be reconciled unto me?  Car. 
No I cannot.  Luc. 
Then I will turn a Statue.  Car. 
I pray you leave me and forget me ever:  
Henceforth you shall not see me any more,  Luc. 
Not see you any more!  
O faithless man and full of perjuries!  
Thy nature is transparent, thou art false  
As is the smooth-faced Sea, which every wind  
Disturbs; a false Barbarian, and born under  
Deceitful Mercury. A Britain would  
Rather have died then thus have wronged me:  
Thou art inhuman, and mayest boast the conquest.  
Tell your most savage countrymen this Act,  
(If the just God of Seas revenge me not)  
And number it 'mongst your proud cruelties.  Car. 
Be pacified: I pray you leave this rage.  Luc. 
When I am dead I shall, and not before,  
And that shall not be long; For thou shalt see me,  
Merciless man thou shalt, and add that to  
Thy bloody conquests; boast how a slighted Lady▪  
For thy unkindness made herself away.  
This hand (wherewith I would have given myself  Offers to kill herself. 
To thee) shall take me from my misery.  Car. 
Hold: I am Carionil.  Luc. 
How! say that again.  Car. 
I am Carionil.  Luc. 
That breath hath raised me, and made me myself.  Car. 
I counterfeited the Negro to obtain you,  
The wished period of my griefs; and might,  
But will not love that woman that shall scorn  
All my endeavours, and entertain a stranger,  
An Ethiopian, and prefer him, no:  
Judge (fair Lucora) if I have not cause.  Luc. 
Yes, yes you have: But now you do not need  
More of your Rhetoric to dissuade me from you.  
There are not in the world temptations  
Can make me yours: I cannot give a reason,  
'tis in my nature, and a secret one.  Car. 
I am glad it is so.  Luc. 
This is the happiest hour  
My life did ever pass, and quickly changed.  Car. 
I rejoice at the alteration: Madam, you shall  
Command me to do any thing but marry you.  Luc. 
Then I command you never move me more.  Car. 
I will obey you.  Luc. 
Now you may call Nentis:  
She is not yet in bed; I see a light yet.  Car. 
Most willingly.  
Nentis, Nentis.  Enter Nentis above. Nen. 
What's the matter, marl.  Luc. 
Come down.  Nen. 
I wonder much: I come (Madam.)  Descendit. Luc. 
You will be secret, Sir, of what hath passed?  Car. 
You may be confident ay will.  Luc. 
I else shall suffer much in my honour.  
Women! take heed: the men whom you deny  
May win you to be theirs by Policy:  
They Proteus-like will vary shapes, until  
Beyond their wishes they have placed their will.  Enter Nentis. Car. 
Your woman's come: Good night.  Luc. 
Good night (Sir)  Exit Carionil. 
Nentis, I now will never pass the Seas:  
Tucapelo is become Carionil.  Nen. 
Amazement ceaseth me!  Luc. 
Anon thou shalt know all.  Nen. 
I hope that now you will be ruled by your friends, and take the Lord Falorus to your husband.  Luc. 
Hang husbands!  Nen. 
The Gods bless them all I say, and send me a good one.  Luc. 
Let's to bed: lock the door after you.  Exeunt Ambae.  

Scena Quinta.  Enter Cleanthe sola. Cle. 
How joy fully the birds salute the morn,  
Warbling a welcome from their gentle throats!  
But I am of another mind (poor maid!)  
Aurora doth no sooner blush upon  
The world, but I make my complaints afresh.  
I am in love, and for my wretched State  
Can blame no body but sinister Fate.  Enter Carionil. Car. 
Well met (Anclethe) I will hide no longer  
Myself in this disguise. Again thou shalt  
Be my Anclethe: wilt thou be my Boy,  
And sing me songs, as thou hadst wont to do?  Cle. 
You have obtained your Mistress I see, my Lord.  Car. 
I have not (boy) nor will I seek her more:  
Some other time thou shalt receive the story.  Cle. 
My hour is come: dear Cupid be my aid.  
And will you never have another Sir?  Car. 
I do not know Anclethe, but if I have,  
She must not be so obstinate as this.  Cle. 
But say a Lady of a noble house  
(One that is not unhandsome) were in love  
With you, did love you violently (my Lord)  
Would you not pity her, but be unkind?  Car. 
Boy, I do know what 'tis to love in vain  
So well, and what a misery is in it,  
That if she were but reasonably well,  
She should not grieve for me, indeed she should not.  Cle. 
You are most noble: old Philosophy  
Never defined a virtue which you want.  
There is a Lady Sir, and not ill-favoured,  
Born of an ancient honoured family,  
So much in love with you, that if you do  
Refuse her (my Lord) you do deny her life.  Car. 
What is she called Anclethe?  Cle. 
My Lord, my Commission doth not reach so far;  
She'd have her name concealed until y'ave seen her.  
Tomorrow morning you may meet her here:  
She with a gentleman (a friend of hers)  
Will here expect you about ten a clock.  Car. 
Well, I will see her (boy) and if I find  
Her answer thy report, I will be kind.  
He that neglects a loving Lady for  
Weak causes, may the Gods that man abhor.  Exeunt Ambo.  
Finis Actus quarti.   

Actus quinti, Scena prima.  
A Banquet set forth: Then enter Polidacre, Antiphila, Servants and Musicians. Pol. 
YOu will pardon a sudden entertainment.  Ant. 
I hope we need not compliment.  Pol. 
You do instruct me.  
Sat down (my sweet Antiphila) and taste.  
Fill wine:  
All health and happiness to you (dear Mistress.)  Ant. 
A true return of loyal thanks.  Pol. 
Play a more merry tune: I do abhor  
What ever relisheth of melancholy.  
Sing, the spheres are dull—  
Apply it to yourself that best deserve it.  


The Spheres are dull, and do not make  
Such Music as my ears will take:  
The slighted Birds may cease to sing,  
Their chirpings do not grace the spring:  
The Nightingale is sad in vain,  
I care not to hear her complain:  
While I have ears and you a tongue,  
I shall think all things else go wrong.   

2.  
The Poets feigned that Orpheus could  
Make stones to follow where he would:  
They feigned indeed, but (had they known  
Your voice) a truth they might have shown.  
All instruments most sadly go,  
Because your tongue excels them so:  
While I have ears, and you a tongue,  
I shall think all things else go wrong.    Ant. 
'tis pretty.  Pol. 
Reiterate again your yielding, Lady,  
And once more let your breath perfume those words.  Ant. 
Sir, I am yours.  Pol. 
And I my fair Antiphila's, your tongue  
Hath made me happy.  Ant. 
May your joy last long.  Exeunt omnes  

Scena secunda.  Enter Philander and Rosinda in women's apparel. Phi. 
How glad I am to see you like yourself!  
Dear mother; pardon an excess of joy.  Ros. 
Such signs of true affection need no pardon.  Enter a servant. Ser. 
Sir, here's a Letter for you.  Phi. 
For me! from whom? the hand resolves me;  
Present my service to the Lady that sent it.  
Tell her, ere long I will come kiss her hands.  Ser. 
I will Sir.  Exit servus. Phi. 
Mother, I writ unto Antiphila,  
And did desire her (for guerdon of my love)  
To hold me second in her thoughts, and (if  
She married not my father) to have me.  Ros. 
She may perform  
What she believed would never come to pass.  
The Letter.  
SIR, I confess I am not contracted, and that I told you so to make you desist. I should be exceeding ungrateful to deny you so small a request. There is nothing hinders me from being yours, but your Father: And I solemnly vow unto you, that (if I have not him) you shall have me. But let not this beget any hope in you;▪ for (if I be not his) it shall be his refusal. Let it only manifest so much, that (had I never seen him) I could have loved you most truly. I pray you, let this suffice, and use me so. Choose another Mistress, and let me be her second: You will love me well enough, if you love another better. Farewell.  
Your Father's Antiphila.  Ros. 
What writ you to her (Son) concerning her  
Professing a contract betwixt us two?  
〈…〉 my rage I met with Tandorix,  
〈…〉 him of his life;  
〈…〉 he was a woman▪  
And for a Gentleman called Perimont,  
(Who often had denied to marry her)  
That habit did assume, thereby to learn  
More easily what did prevent her joy,  
And whether he affected any other.  
Thus I your being kept unknown.  Rosin. 
I'm galled you did so.  Phi. 
You do well, Mother, to wear a mask: you shall  
Thereby be sure to be concealed until  
You find the fittest opportunity  
Yourself (unto my Father) to reveal.  Exeunt Am●●▪  

Scena Tertia.  Enter Falorus solus. Fal. 
What will become of me (unfortunate man)  
Who needs must live in fire▪ or live in shame?  
I know not what to speak nor what to do,  
Both fear and grief do so confound my senses▪  
I fear to wrong Carionil so much  
As to be traitorous against our friendship;  
And griefs unsufferable endure for the  
Fairest of Ladies, incomparable Lucora:  
I would she had been kind unto my friend,  
Unto him than I never had proved false;  
Nor will I: I will rather search out frozen  
Climates, and lie whole nights on hills of Ice,  
Or rather will take powerful potions, and sleep  
Out those unpleasant hours I have to live;  
But than I shall not see that beauty: who  
But senseless frantics would have thoughts so poor?  
My reason forsakes the government of this  
Weak frame, and I am fall'n into disorder.  
Oh! I could sigh my body into air,  
And weeped into a Lake, if merciless nature  
Had made it of a substance suitable  
Unto my wish now: methinks I could levelly  
A Promontory into a Province, and tread  
The centre through to read the destinies  
Of southern stars, and bless their fortunes that  
Are born under their light; for (I am confident)  
Their influences are more mild than ours.  
There is no other Fate can fall on me  
Shall awe me now; I will be proud and daring  
As the ambitious waves, when wrathful blasts  
Of Northern winds do hoist them violently  
Against the highest clouds, and rather will  
Destroy myself then wrong Carionil.  Exit Falorus.  

Scena quarta.  Enter Cleanthe in woman's apparel, and Phygionis. Cle. 
And served my sister well to leave her so.  Phy. 
How much (dear Madam) have you impoverished  
men's eyes, by hiding your perfections  
In their apparel? indeed I flatter not,  
I do not know the Lady owns so much beauty.  Cle. 
If my Carionil will like me, than  
I shall attain the end of my desires:  
May I appear but lovely in his eye,  
And what I seem in others I will slight.  
But (good Phygionis) tell me I prithee  
In your affection what success you have.  
Is Nentis won, or do you hope she will?  Phy. 
She's mine, we are contracted.  Cle. 
Joy wait on you,  
And make your lives of many years pass pleasant.  
Is it not ten? are all the clocks grown envious  
Against my bliss, and will not let me know  
How nigh his coming is? for I esteem  
Myself most happy in his company.  Enter Carionil like himself. Car. 
This is the place Anclethe named.  Phy. 
Madam he's here.  Cle. 
Be friend me my good stars!  Car. 
Here is a Lady and a matchless one!  
Wood two years since I had beheld this beauty,  
When first I came from Spain and had my heart free,  
Then many a sad day had been merry unto me,  
For unto her Lucora should have yielded.  
Sweet Lady, you that are the fairest creature  
Nature did ever form, vouchsafe so much  
Of happiness unto me as to give  
Me liberty to touch your lips— do you  Kisses her. 
Know me? and have your ears ere heard  
So poor a name as is Carionil?  
But I am much mistake; you are not she  
Whom here I was to meet: I needs must doubt  
The fates did not intend me such a joy.  Cle. 
I am.  Car. 
Deceived Pythagoras! hadst thou but dreamt  
The sweetness of this voice, the music of  
The Spheres thou never hadst recorded. Speak,  
Fairest and best of Ladies, let me hear  
If you have so unmatched a pity in you  
As to look on me with a friendly eye.  
Can you love me?  Cle. 
Most noble Sir, I do most violently.  Car. 
If that to live with you detained me not,  
I should be grieved that my joy for so great  
A fortune did not stupefy my senses,  
And cast me into an eternal sleep.  
Where is Anclethe? he is much to blame  
In not attending you.  Cle. 
Whom speak you of dear Sir?  Car. 
My boy.  Cle. 
I do not know a boy of that name truly:  
Nor (I think) is there.  Car. 
You do amaze me.  Cle. 
You may believe me, Sir, for I am he.  Car. 
Wonders in Riddles!  Cle. 
I am your Page Anclethe, and sister to  
Lucora, who for love attended you  
Disguised, because (I found) for the great enmity  
Between our families) my father never  
Would give me where I would bestow myself.  Car. 
Your Nurse did steal you when you was a child?  Cle. 
Most true: This gentleman her son, my friend,  
Occasioned my escape, by giving me  
A knowledge of my birth. His true relation  
Can vindicate me from suspicion.  Car. 
I need it not:  
Were you not she (as I believe you are)  
And mean of birth, I should account myself  
A gainer by you. Sir, you have done that  
Hath placed you in my heart among those friends  
For whose sakes I my life will sacrifice.  Phi. 
My Lord, you do indebt me to your service:  
In your acquaintance I shall be most honoured.  Cle. 
Sir, if you please he will relate my Story.  Car. 
By no means: keep it for your father, when  
You do disclose yourself. But can you pardon  
Those incivilities I did commit  
When you was Anclethe?  Cle. 
Wrong not yourself: you did make more of me  
Then I deserved, or could.  Car. 
But why, my sweet Cleanthe, would you not  
Let me know who you was before?  Cle. 
Dear Sir, I saw how violent you was  
In your affection to my careless sister,  
And had no hope you would leave her for me:  
And (if you did obtain her) meant to do  
What my disastrous fate should prompt me to.  Car. 
Sweetest of all your sex.  Cle. 
But (if you never got her, and o'ercame  
Her obstinacy) to declare myself;  
If not (but Love had triumphed in your fall)  
I'd not have lived to see your Funeral.  Car. 
The Gods requite this goodness, and make me worthy  
Of you, my dear Cleanthe; I contract  
Myself upon your lips: which we will perfect  
Ere you own publicly your Father, for  
The enmity will make him charge you otherwise.  Cle. 
I pray you let us.  Car. 
A thousand thanks, come shall we walk (fair Mistress)?  Cle. 
Conclusions fair the fates to them do give  
Who constant in their loves, and faithful live.  Enter Falorus. Car. 
Stay, dear Cleanthe, here is my friend, he shall  
Partake my joy; well met my best Falorus.  Fal. 
It seems you are not Tucapelo now:  
Where is Lucora? have you married her?  Car. 
No, I have not, friend.  Fal. 
Refrain:  
I am your enemy, embrace me not,  
Receive my sword, and peace this heart (Carionil.) Gives his sword.  Car. 
He hath not yet descried you:  
Withdraw a little (dear Mistress) Sir, I pray you  
To bear her company, for who can tell  
What in this frenzy he may do?  Exeunt Cle. Phy. Cle. 
Hereabouts we will await your leisure.  Car. 
What ails my friend? let me but know the man  
Is cause of this disorder in you, and  
He shall not see the gray-eyed morning break  
From th' oriental Mountains any more:  
Let me partake of that unwieldy grief  
Hath bowed my friend so much beneath himself.  Fal. 
Leave compliments Carionil, and make  
A passage for my soul, that it may leave  
So vile a habitation as this body;  
And (when I'm dead) rip out my heart and in't  
Survey my fault, for I want words, and have  
Not impudence enough to tell it you.  Car. 
O what might be the cause this matchless frame  
And worthiest Cabinet that ever man  
Enclosed his secrets in, is so disturbed!  
Noble Falorus, think to whom you speak,  
It is Carionil, whose life you do  
Make burdenous to him by the suspicion  
Of wronging him whom you have ever loved.  Fal. 
You do deceive yourself; I lately have  
Transgressed against our league of amity:  
If you desire to be a happy man,  
And to enjoy what most you seek, be kind  
Unto yourself, and run my body through.  Car. 
Can I be happy and Falorus dead!  
No, I should live a desolater life  
Then ere the strictest Anchorite hath done,  
And wear my body to an Anatome,  
For real sorrow at such a dire mishap:  
Live then (my friend) and may you number days  
Until Arithmetic grow faint, and leave you.  Fal. 
You know not how much hurt you wish yourself.  
Would you torment me twice? If not, forget  
Falorus utterly, and let me die.  Car. 
I understand you not.  Fal. 
Would you have me blast my own fame by speaking  
My fault? And have me Executioner  
Unto myself?  Car. 
Release your Soul of all her griefs, and say  
From whence your sorrows have original.  
Have you not oft told me of my impatiency?  
Give me now leave to be as plain with you:  
The angry winds never enraged the seas  
So much as some small grief hath done my friend.  
I do conjure you by our former loves  
(For sure not long since we were friends indeed)  
To let me know why you are thus distempered:  
I do not fear but I shall free you from  
This passion so precipitate and dangerous.  Fal. 
You are most good, and get yourself, Carionil,  
A name above the ablest character,  
None (like it) can decipher you; and would  
I always had continued Falorus,  
Then I yet had remained your friend. But (if  
You needs will know the reason of my fury)  
Draw out the sword, that (when you have received it)  
Your hand, and not your words may strike me dead.  Car. 
Be not importuned longer; ease your heart:  
For (credit me) I grieve to see you thus.  Fal. 
I am in love, suppose the rest, and kill me.  Car. 
With Lucora?  Fal. 
Too true, now curse me into dust, and with  
Your breath disperse me into air: but spare me,  
Chide me not for my falsehood, and inflict  
But one punishment on me, and be that the sword;  
Yet hear me speak one word or two before.  
I have not wooed her, nor have sought performance  
Of that free promise that her father made me,  
But faithfully have temporised with him;  
Nor did I willingly consent unto  
This passion, it did seize me violently.  Car. 
Be you more calm, take her (Falorus) you have  
A liberty for me, I speak in earnest.  Fal. 
Then all is well, return my sword (dear friend)  
Carionil, I will not hinder thee:  Gives him his sword. 
My name shall not be blasted in thy sighs;  
Fall worthless man, 'tis pity I should live.  Offers to kill himself. Car. 
What mean you (my Falorus?) for heaven's sake leave,  
And your own light rashly extinguish not:  
I for Lucora do not care, and have  
All my affection unto her recalled,  
And am engaged unto another Lady;  
I stole her from her chamber in my disguise,  
And then (bethinking me how she had used me)  
I told her that I would not have a Lady  
Who would prefer a Moor before me. Her  
Slighting of me made me to leave her so.  Fal. 
Is this not policy to delay my death?  Car. 
If ere you found me false, believe me not.  Fal. 
It than is true?  Car. 
Most true, Falorus.  Fal. 
Licence me (friend) now to embrace you; well met  
(Carionil) and welcomer indeed  
Then ever yet man was unto me: I  
Will live and owe my life unto you, and (when  
You please) I for your sake will lay it down:  
Freely I may Lucora now adore;  
And (rather then to lose her) I will try  
All ways that are contained in policy.  Car. 
But say she never will consent?  Fal. 
I am  
Most confident she will to please her Father:  
But (if she should not) I could suffer it;  
'Twas not my Love made me thus passionate,  
It was because in it I wronged you.  Car. 
Did you not mark (when you did see me first)  
A joy unusual sit upon my brow?  Fal. 
I had so much of sorrow in my heart,  
That with it all my senses were possessed.  Car. 
But you perceived I had left my disguise;  
What out of it did you collect?  Fal. 
I thought  
Lucora had descried you, and you had  
A peremptory denial to your suit.  Enter Cleanthe and Phyginois. Cle. 
Sir, seeing you had made a fair conclusion,  
And measuring each minute for an hour  
Until I were with you, I rudely come  
Uncaled for to you.  Car. 
Ever most welcome my Cleanthe; friend,  
This is the Lady I did mention to you,  
She was Anclethe, b●t is sister to  
The Mistress of you● thoughts, and called Cleanthe,  
Whom long since all her friends believed lost,  
And have these many years left mourning for.  Fal. 
A strange discovery and admirable!  Car. 
Some other time command the history;  
This mutually among ourselves we'll spend.  Fal. 
Lady, account me servant to your virtues,  
And you, Sir, may command Falorus always.  Phy. 
Your love will honour me (most noble lord)  Cle. 
Sir, I for you will intercession make  
Unto my sister, and do hope shall prosper:  
I will make known how much you are her servant,  
And what affection my ears have witnessed;  
For I (unseen to you) did hear what passed.  Fal. 
You will oblige me everlastingly.  Car. 
Now let us walk.  Fal. 
Whosoever loyal friendship doth regard,  
With fair events the Gods will him reward.  Exeunt omnes.  

Scena quinta.  Enter jaques solus. jaq. 
I have a Licence for my Lady, & the brave gallant Mistress Lorece, But it cost too much a conscience, I wood a writ five times as much for half I gave for it: But 'tis the fashion among great ones, so they have their wills they care not at how dear a rate they buy them. This marriage is like Christmas, when it comes it brings good cheer with't, we have fat Venison, hold belly hold: and wine I am sure we shall want none, for the Vintner had twenty pounds on me this morning. I ha' bespoke a merry company of Fiddlers; O they are boon fellows! and there will be old dancing, for I mean to sweat my doublet quite through ere I leave.  Enter Lorece and Vandona. 
Madam, here's the Licence your Worships sent me for, the Parson and this will make all sure.  Lor. 
'tis well done jaques, for this, be thou the Neptune of the Cellar, raise a tempest, and drown who ever doth go down the stairs;  
Like old Silenus behave thyself.  Van. 
When we have dined, le's go to my Lord Polidacres, and invite that house.  Lor. 
We will (my dear Widow.)  jaq. 
'twill be a merry time I see.  Exeunt Omnes.  

Scena sexta.  Enter Polidacre, Lucora, Antiphila, and Nentis. Ant. 
I wonder we have not seen the Ethiopian Lord to day.  Pol. 
He'll not be long absent.  
Lucora, thou hast my heart for thy consent:  
Falorus is a worthy Gentleman,  
And one of an approved fashion,  
He doth deserve a Princess; my Lucora,  
I know his nature is most noble, else  
I would not move thee for him, and (although  
The time is not expired) will you steal  
So much from age, and be his wife? I long  
To see thee well bestowed.  Luc. 
What ere you please t'command I will perform.  Enter Falorus. Pol. 
Here is Falorus! welcome my Lord, I shall  
Shortly say my son; my daughter I have won,  
And when I please, unto you she will give  
Away herself.  Fal. 
You are most noble:  
But can you (fairest Lady) look so low  
As is Falorus? can there be such a virtue  
Of rare humility within you, that  
You thus confer affection upon me?  Luc. 
My Lord, my father desires to make me yours;  
And I have learned so much obedience,  
As willingly to do what he commands.  Fal. 
I wish I could (most excellent Lucora)  
Thank you in all the languages are worth  
Your dear attention, you have made me so  
Exceeding happy, I envy not his wealth  
That owns the inhaustible mines of famed Peru.  Luco. 
I thank you for this love, and have a hope  
Requite you Sir.  Fal. 
My joy hath dulled my senses.  Enter Lorece, Vandona, and Jaques. Lor. 
Now brother! have I not ended happily?  
Vandona is my own: We only want  
The ceremony Eclesiastical.  
My Lord, I am your servant.  Fal. 
I have a Mistress got, the richest beauty  
Great Britain ever was renowned for.  Lor. 
Much, very much i'faith; have you won her  
For whom hopeful Carionil did die?  Fal. 
I won her not (Lorece) her father's desire  
Meeting with her consent, have made her mine.  Van. 
Sister, you have been a stranger to me, I pray you be not so.  Nen. 
You shall see me oftener.  Lor. 
Thou mayst be Mercury, and I will glory  
Thou art my brother.  Van. 
Madam, I'm very glad to meet you here.  Ant. 
And I as joyful of your company.  Enter Carionil, Cleanthe, and Phygionis. Lor. 
Wonders▪ Carionil's alive again, and here.  Pol. 
For some strange end he did give forth his death:  
But what young beauteous lady's that?  Luc. 
It is a face worthy of admiration.  Pol. 
Rise Lady: kneel not unto me.  She knelt. Cle. 
Then I were most unfit to be your Child.  Pol. 
How▪ my daughter that was lost?  Clea. 
Yes my Lord, and beg your blessing.  Pol. 
May the good heavens make of thee (my daughter)  
(If you be she) an old and happy woman.  Luc. 
I am a Sister to you: Spare some time  
For me to show how much I do rejoice  
At this unlooked for good: none of your kin  
(Fair Sister) are more glad than I to see you,  
Whom we had never hope to see: I am  
Most proud to be allied unto  
So excellent a creature as you are.  Clea. 
I am most joyful of your love.  Ant. 
We are most glad to see you safe.  Van. 
As if you were our Sister.  Clea. 
My thanks (sweet Ladies)  Pol. 
Dearest Cleanthe, confirm thy father in  
His joy: relate thy life, that out of it  
I may grow confident thou art my daughter.  Phy. 
Lady, leave that to me: My Lord (and if  
You with her silence can so long dispense)  
I would do that.  Clean. 
He is my Nurse's Son, to whom (my Lord)  
I owe all thanks for my escape.  Pol. 
Sir, when you please you may begin.  Nen. 
What, not a gentleman! I am undone,  
But must be secret in't.  — Aside, Phy. 
My Lord.  
This Lady's Nurse, my mother, had a Son  
Older than the Lady Cleanthe is by seven years;  
Whom she did love so extraordinarily,  
That for his sake she foully erred from virtue:  
She thought it was an easy thing for her  
(If that their lives attained to those years)  
To make your daughter wife unto her son;  
Which is the cause she privily escaped.  Pol. 
Most strange!  Phy. 
By chance I heard this of my brother, who  
Told me (against my mother's strict command)  
What a great marriage he should have, and that  
Cleanthe was the daughter of a Lord,  
Your Honour's child,  
Whom all we thought but of a mean descent:  
(For she had won the country to believe  
That she did find her in the open field:)  
I pitying her hard chance, did tell her all,  
And promised her I would attend upon her,  
Until she had her parents happy made  
With knowledge of her safety.  Cle. 
The rest I must relate:  
Dear Sir, be kind, and (if I have done aught  
You shall dislike) pardon my first offence;  
I was no sooner come to town, but saw  
This noble Gentleman, with whom so violently  
I fell in love, that for his sake (pray pardon me)  
My own apparel I did lay away,  
And did become his Page: And (when I did  
Disclose myself) he kindly did requite me.  
In brief we are contracted,  
I did not well without you to do thus;  
But your forgiveness, Sir, I cannot doubt:  
He told me that there was a difference  
Between our families, and therefore you  
(If your consent was asked) would never yield.  jaq. 
Wood I were it'h Cellar, I care not for these dry and tedious tales.  Pol. 
Whether I should or no I cannot tell,  
But I am glad that it hath chanced thus;  
This match an ancient discord will conclude,  
And may the Gods be favourable to it.  Car. 
Most Worthy Lord, my faithful thanks.  Phy. 
Here also is a ring which by  
Your Father (my Lord Falorus) was given her,  
When at the Font he for her answered;  
She wo'rt about her neck when she was stolen.  Pol. 
I know it well, and am confident  
Thou art my lost Cleanthe: Be his wife,  
And may the heavens make up the match most fortunate.  
Carionil, I now am glad I have  
A man so honoured to my son in law.  Car. 
My Lord (if that I can perform my will)  
You never shall repent your daughter's choice.  Pol. 
I do not doubt I shall. Now I would know  
Why your death was reported.  Car. 
I was in love long which your eldest daughter▪  
The fair Lucora, but could never win her;  
Brought almost to despair I did assume  
The habit and colour of a Negro.  Pol. 
Then you was Tucapelo.  Car. 
I was indeed▪  
Knowing she had refused the greatest Marriages,  
And many of the handsomest of the Kingdom,  
I fully did believe she never would  
Like any man of this Complexion,  
And therefore feigned myself an Ethiopian.  
But first gave out my death, and that unto  
Myself I had done violence, for her.  Luc. 
Surely, he will not do so unworthily  
As to make mention of my fond affection.  A side. Car. 
But all could not prevail.  Luco. 
I am glad he ends so.  — A side. Cairo. 
And therefore I desisted wholly: which when  
Anclethe see (my sweet Cleanthe now)  
She did disclose herself.  Polid. 
I do perceive the Heavens intended you  
Should reconcile our Families.  jaq. 
Her's love, and love again: I wood some body would love me.  Luco. 
My dear Sister, you must not think me rude  
Because I do express my love so fully.  Poli. 
Be my Carionil;  
All that ●●e mine respect this Lady: For  
I do intend to make her so.  Car. 
We are her Servants, and most joyfully  
Shall kneel unto a Lady of her virtues.  Enter Philander, and Rosinda. Fal. 
What Lady's that?  Car. 
She's masked, and I cannot guests.  Pol. 
Philander, this Lady is thy Sister, the lost  Phi. 
Grow not to weak, my body, to contain (Cleanthe.  
My soul within thee at these joys:  
Fair Sister, I am glad that I can name  
So beauteous a Lady as you are so;  
For you the heavens be thanked.  Pol. 
Carionil's alive, and must be styled your brother,  
Cleanthe him hath chose:  
Perfect thy joys (Philander) when thou wilt,  
And hear their Histories;  
This Lady you must call mother.  Phil. 
But I must not.  Poli. 
How!  Phil. 
This here I will;  
Dear mother, now confirm my words.  Unmaskes. Poli. 
Welcome to life Rosinda: Thy face and beauty  
I do remember well: But wherefore did you  
Raise the report of your untimely death?  Rosin. 
That at a fitter time. This give me leave  
To spend in joy.  
My dear Cleanthe (for I do believe  
Because thy father doth acknowledge thee,  
Thou art Cleanthe my so long lost daughter)  
Never was mother's heart so light; I cannot  
Utter my joys, my tears must witness them.  
To time I am indebted, that he hath  
Spared my life until I see thee safe.  Cle. 
I want expression: But my life shall be  
A comment on my heart, wherein you shall  
Perceive what your Cleanthe is.  Phil. 
Now you are mine (fair Antiphila.)  Ant. 
I will perform my promise.  Phil. 
Both your consents I beg.  Polid. 
How's this!  Anti. 
I did engage myself,  
That (if I were not yours) I would be his.  Pol. 
Then may the knot prove happy, and continue  
A firm one, while the Gods do lend you breath.  Ros. 
It is my wish.  Pol. 
Was you her servant too? Wife, chide me in secrer, I was forsworn.  Ros. 
We all are frail; Mortality may boast  
Of strength, but many conclusions deny it.  Nen. 
Away, I will have none of you, I will not beg.  Pol. 
You shall not need, I (for his love and care  
Unto my daughter) will give him means befitting  
A Gentleman, which shall descend unto  
His posterity, poverty shall not spoil his fortune.  Vandon. 
'Tis nobly said, If you do like him, take him sister.  Ment. 
Now I'm content.  Phyg. 
My joy is great: My thanks (sweet Mistress) My Lord Polidacre, I am your grateful, though unworthiest servant. Now, Mistress, you shall know the policy I won your affections with; my affections being settled so high, and I poor, I made myself Draculemion; But your promise, worthiest Lord hath now enriched me.  jaq. 
O me! Was you that merry fellow? you have a perilous wit.  Phyg. 
One thing I must crave of you.  Polid. 
You shall obtain Sir.  Phyg. 
That you will pardon my Mother.  Polid. 
I do for your sake.  Luco. 
Since I perceive you in the bounteous way  
Of granting Boons, Sir, I assume the boldness  
To become a Petitioner to you.  Polid. 
My dear Lucora freely ask, for I  
Doubtlessly shall consent to thy demand.  Luco. 
Seeing the gracious Heavens have blessed our house  
With the recovery of my long lost Sister;  
And since the powers divine have linked her heart  
To the affections of a noble Gentleman,  
A marriage like to grace your honoured Age  
With hopeful Nephews; I humbly crave your licence  
To enjoy the freedom of a single life;  
For I've no inclination to become  
A subject unto Hymen's glorious bondage.  Polid. 
Remember (my Lucora) all your promises,  
And suffer not your obstinacy to cloud  
The happiness of this Evening.  Falor. 
My excellent Mistress, you have raised me near  
The Zenith of all happiness, and will you  
Now leave me on that mighty precipice,  
To fall into a sad Abyss of misery?  Clean. 
My dear sweet Sister, give me leave to trouble you  
With a few words aside;  
I saw the Lord Falorus for your sake  
(Between a great affection and firm friendship)  
In as high a passion as you can imagine.  
A noble and a faithful Lover to you;  
He in his soul adores you, I am confident;  
And I'm obliged by promise to become  
His Intercessor for your kind affection:  
I do beseech you therefore grace your Sister  
(Though bold, being younger, to importune you thus)  
T'honor the Lord Falorus with your Love.  Lucor. 
I dare not (my fair sister) be so cruel  
As to deny you in your first request;  
I'll entertain his flame and be his Bride.  
I will be plain with you, had you been silent,  
In a ship bound for Spain I had gone to night  
With some Ladies of our near kindred towards Lisbon,  
And so avoided the Courtship of Falorus,  
And all my Father's continual importunities.  
To make this escape more unexpected, and  
The better to provide me for this journey,  
I had consented when my father pleased  
To marry him; but your entreaties have  
Prevailed above all my resolutions.  Falor. 
Dear Madam, let me beseech your assistance.  Rosin. 
My Lord, I will desire her, and am confident  
I▪ shall obtain. I pray thee (my Lucora)  
Submit to the entreaties of thy friends,  
And let not thy refusal of Falorus  
Beget a sad look on this happy evening.  Lucor. 
Madam, you and my sister shall overcome;  
And though (my Lord Falorus) you may tax me  
For an obstinate disposition, you shall find me  
Throughout my future days) to made amends,  
And prove a very loving wife unto you.  Falor. 
Now you have fixed me in a fortunate  
And glorious life.  Polid. 
I thank thee my Lucora.  jaq. 
Every body has his Sweetheart but I; one or other take pity on me, and let me not be a cipher and stand here for nothing. I see the fault is in my years, otherwise Servingmen are not so slighted by Ladies.  To the Spectator Ladies. Polid. 
Let us withdraw; you all  
Shall sup with me to night, and we'll design  
The happy day that shall each couple join.  Cairo. 
You that have Mistresses, do not despair  
To get them, be they ne'er so proud and fair;  
One way or other (you have seen it done)  
The Obstinatest Lady may be won.  Exeunt omnes.  
FINIS.   

The EPILOGUE.  Lucora. 
THe obstinate Lady yet is obstinate,  
And (careless either of your love or hate)  
She dares continue so: Nor will I beg  
Some friend within to come with his low leg,  
And's hat in's hand to woe your praise: It is  
So poor, that I had rather hear you hiss.  
Our Poet bad's be bold, For's Play was good,  
And that 'twould take, if it was understood;  
And so we are: For what's our fate we must  
And will endure, be't lawful, or unjust.  
Unto your justice we appeal, which lies  
Within your hands: Do what you please, and rise,  Cleanth. 
O sister! This is likely to spoil all:  
Gentle Spectators, also give me leave.  

Ladies and Gentlemen, if we have said  
Aught that hath pleased your ears, or pastime made▪  
Our time we have spent well▪ but if that we  
Have tedious been, and you did sit and see  
With we ariness, our Poet will repent  
That you this Comedy we did present.  
Y'ave paid the Actors well, we thank you & know it,  
And wish that you would gratify our Poet▪  
He wants no money as the case now stands,  
Yet ●rayes you to be liberal of your hands.   
FINIS.   

Trappolin creduto Principe. OR TRAPPOLIN Supposed a Prince. An Italian TRAGICOMEDY. The scene part of Italy. Written by Sir ASTON COKAIN.  
LONDON Printed by WILLIAM GODBID 1658.   

The Actors names.  
Lavinio. The great Duke of Tuscany. ●forza. The Duke of Milan. Horatio. Son of the Duke of Savoy. 

Barbarine.  
Machavil.   Two noble Florentines. Mattemores. A Spanish Captain. Trappolin. Supposed a Prince. Mago. A Conjurer. Pucannello. A Jailor. Bulflesh. A Butcher. Calfshead. A Puritan. Barn. A Farmer. Tiler. A poor workman. Whip. A Coachman. A Notary. A Guard. Officers. Attendants. Eo, Meo and Areo. Devils. Hymen, Luna, Mars, Mercury, jupiter, Venus, Saturn, Sol: Maskers. Isabel. Wife to Lavinio. Hortentia. Wife to Sforza. Prudentia. Horatio's Mistress. Hippolita. The Captain's Mistress. Flametta. Trappolines' sweetheart. Mrs. Fine. A Plaintiff.   

The PROLOGUE.  

GAllants, be't known as yet we cannot say  
To whom you are beholding for this pla●;  
But this our Poet hath licenced us to tell,  
Ingenious Italy hath liked it well:  
Yet is it no translation; for he ne'er  
But twice in Venice did it ever hear▪  
There it did take, and he doth hope (if you  
Have your old humours) it will please here too  
He swears he hath not spoiled it, and protest  
We think it good, though he doth none o'th' best  
You often have heard worse it'h house before,  
And had we made the Prologue we'd say more  
That labour he hath saved us, cause he wood  
No partial friend should cry it up for good;  
An excellent new Comedy as you say,  
When you have seen't, he so will judge his pla●  
He is not peremptory, like to some  
Who think that all is best from them doth come  
Ladies and Gentlemen, you that do know  
To censure rightly as you think so do:  
Our Poet scorns to beg your hands, yet saith,  
That at the end if he the favour hath,  
This shall not be his last, that he'll endeavour  
To gratify you shortly with another:  
How ere it takes, he for your presence sends  
His thanks by me, and hopes we shall par● friends.    

Trappolin supposed a Prince.  
Actus primus & scena prima.  
Enter Trappolin solus. 
MY wench Flametta is a dear rogue, the pretty fool dotes on me; my Lord Barbarin can do nothing with her; his pistols and jewels she cares not for. And 'tis a handsome thing: no Pomatum ere touched her lips, or painted her cheeks, yet are they cherries and roses; I am most happy to be what I am, and to have the love of such a one as she.  Enter Flametta. Flam. 
Good morrow Trappolin, how does my Love?  Trap. 
First let us kiss, and after I will tell,  
For ever thine Flametta.  Flam. 
O thanks my dear.  Enter Barbarino. Bar. 
The villain Trappolin has a handsome wench, and (which angers me) an honest one; I have spent many weeks about her, but could never do any good, she will not neither for love or money; and see where they are a talking together.  Trap. 
Yonder is my Lord Barbarino.  
My dear Flametta, I am your Honour's servant; this free promise of thine, I can never enough thank thee for— at your Lordship's command. How happily shall we live together in marriage, both loving so well and truly? Your Honour's humble slave. Let us kiss again— your poor vassal my Lord, thus will we spend our days in these delights; so will we kiss Flametta— I beseech your Honour to pardon me: we ne'er will be a weary of ourselves, if thou dost sigh, thy Trappolin will weep,— your Honour shall command me always; and when thou singest thy Trappolin will dance.  Flam. 
And I am thine my honest Trappolin,  
And ever will be constant unto thee.  Trap. 
I'll attend your Honour presently.  Flam. 
There's no man alive shall make me prove  
Unfaithful unto thee, so much I love.  Trap. 
Your Lordship must pardon me a little,  
I am something busy.  Flam. 
My Trappolin shall not bestow a kiss,  
But I will pay it him with usury;  
It is impossible for thee to be  
More thy Flametta's then Flametta's thine.  Trap. 
I will come to your Honour presently.  Flam. 
Pardon Sweetheart that now I must be gone,  
My stay another time shall make amends:  
A kiss my dear, my lovely Trappolin;  
With such I shall be never satisfied.  Exit. Trap. 
Farewell my dear rogue; my Lord I come,  
Your Honour must pardon me, you saw how I was employed, I could not leave the poor fool, your Lordship sees she loves me, and protest her labour is not lost: now if your Honour hath any thing to command me, I am ready Trappolino, your poor servant.  Barb. 
You are a saucy peremptory villain,  
And I have well perceived your base demeanour;  
Although I see the wench is yours, you shall  
Repent the freedom of your evil language,  
Be sure you shall.  Exit. Trap. 
Good morrow my Lord,  
Let him do his worst I care not a rush for him; he would ha' my wench, and I am glad I abused him, I ha' made his Honour something choleric, let him digest it how he will.  Exit. Enter Lavinio the great Duke, Prudentia, Barbarin, Machavil and others. Lavin. 
The Tuscan glory have we yet upheld,  
And from the fierce assaults of enemies  
Rescued our cities, set them in a peace  
As happy as the Gods did ere vouchsafe.  
Sforza the Duke of Milan our old friend,  
Who hath in all our wars still sent us aid,  
Hath promised me the matchless Isabel  
His sister for my wife; and seeing now  
We have no more to do with enemies,  
I will to Milan go and marry her,  
And quickly unto Florence will return,  
Where I will celebrate our nuptial  
With that magnificence becomes our state.  
You, whom I ever have found faithful to me,  
Lord Barbarino, and Lord Machivil,  
To you I do commit the government  
Of Tuscany until I return;  
And full commission to do what you shall  
See necessary for the good of Florence:  
My dear Prudentia, the only joy  
Of our deceased Father, the last Duke,  
Live happy, and enjoy thy own desires,  
Which I do know are virtuous all.  Prud. 
Most noble Sir, it is impossible  
That I should happy be, and you not present:  
But I am unworthy to beseech your stay;  
Go and be fortunate in a worthy choice,  
While I to heaven pray for your safe return.  
Dear sweet Prudentia, and also Lords,  
Look well unto my prisoner Brunetto;  
Yet let him want nothing but a free release,  
For sure he is more than he seems to be.  
I have been long about this journey; now  
All things are ready, my Prudentia  
Farewell; and sister, be not melancholy,  
For in few weeks I will return, and bring  
A sister home to keep thee company,  
The beauteous Milanes.  Prud. 
And may she prove  
According to your wishes, noble Sir.  Barb. 
And be a joy unto the Florentines.  Mach. 
And be a happy mother, that there may  
Not want an heir unto your Highness.  Lau. 
Our thanks;  
Onward, 'tis time I were upon my way.  Exeunt. Barba. 
Now will I be revenge; d of Trappolin,  
Who hath so boldly to my face abused me;  
I have authority to do't withal,  
I'll make him to repent his sauciness.  Enter Trappolin. 
He's here, but I will do't as if by Justice.  Trap. 
I can think of nothing but my pretty villain Flammetta; O 'tis a dear rogue, and she says she loves me, and I know she does: when I have married her I will betake me to the country, where we will live as jovial as the day is long.—  Enter Mattemores the Spanish Captain. Mat▪ 
I'll fight for Florence while I have a vein  
To hold my heart from falling unto death;  
Nor shall the Longobardy Mantuaus  
Ere win a Flag while I am in the field;  
I'd make the Tuscan Duke to know the man  
Whom he hath trusted to conduct his troops,  
Durst but Gonzaga ever stir again.  
Methinks there is no nobler thing on earth,  
Then to see hills of bodies, lakes of blood:  
No braver Music than the Martial Drum;  
Nor Diapasons sweeter to the ear,  
Then unto it the Warlike Trumpets make;  
When I but hear this harmony, I could,  
Full of delight, venture my single person  
Against an armed Troop. Away with peace,  
It is the Canker and the bane of minds;  
'Tis that which makes us to forget ourselves,  
And spend our lives in sensuality.  
Then glorious war advance thy armed arm,  
That soldiers may have ways to show themselves;  
Would Goths and Vandals once again would come  
Int' Italy, or Moors into our Spain,  
That Mattemores might wear out his sword  
With hewing bones, and cleaving armed men:  
Each thing doth to his centre fall, and I  
Would unto mine, which is to fight or die.  
Who art thou?  Trap. 
ay!  Matte. 
I you! what are you to good to be asked?  Trap. 
I am Trappolin.  Matte. 
By that I know not, art thou a man of war?  
Is Trappolin in any Captain's roll?  
ist writ?  Trap. 
Yes (Signior Captain) in the Parson's book,  
The day thereof my baptism is set down.  Mat. 
And in that honour oft hast thou ere fought  
With Infidels, and slain a score or two?  Trap. 
Not I, Heavens be praised, a score or two said you Captain? then should I sure never escape, for I promise you many an one is hanged for killing of one.  Mat. 
Fie, what an ignorance is this! hast thou a mind to become now a soldier?  Trap. 
Indeed, Signior Captain, I cannot resolve you as yet, I am about a wife, I'll ask her if she will turn soldier too, and then if I like it there's an end. But I pray you Captain what is a soldier?  Mat. 
A soldier, Trappolin, is he that does  
Venture his life a hundred times a day,  
Wood in his countries, and his Prince's cause  
Stand canon shot, and wood of steeled pikes▪  
Wood when his body's full of wounds all night,  
Lie in the field and sleep upon his helm.  Trap. 
Good Captain pardon me, neither I nor Flametta will be soldiers; heavens defend, venture my life so many times a day! there is more safety and gain in turning thief: I love my country and Prince well, but myself better; 'tis good sleeping in a whole skin, 'tis better lying with Flametta in a warm bed; marry I had thought a soldier had not been such a fool.  
How many of them might there be in Florence, Sir Captain?  Mat. 
Thou coward, many hundreds.  Trap. 
The Gods send them more wit, that's e'en all that I can say: but I pray you Sir Captain, now I think ont'● persuade my Father and mother, sisters and uncles, and aunts, and all the kin I have to turn soldiers, that they may be killed quickly and I be their heir; I swear Captain you should lose nothing by't, I would give you a good present for't.  Mat. 
Base coward.  Trap. 
Good Captain, what is the meaning of coward? I have often heard that word, and would fain know the true meaning of it.  Mat. 
A coward is a fellow base as thou,  
One that doth spend his precious time in sloth,  
Cares not what alterations kingdoms have,  
So he at home may welter in his pleasures;  
A fellow that had rather sit all day  
Drinking tobacco, and carousing cups,  
Then die his sword in blood of enemies.  Trap. 
Why then Captain, in faith I am a very coward; 'tis better by half then a soldier, I know there is far more pleasure in a glass of good wine and a pipe of true Varines, then in bullets whizzing about one's ears, and pikes or halberds, or what you will abeating out ones teeth.  Mat. 
Thou dunghill wretch.  Trap. 
Signior Captain, be not angry, for I vow I mean earnest, I should never digest the soldiery life, nor am I sure wood Flametta, and the Gods help them that do.  Matte. 
Thou earthen-minded slave, 'tis pity thou shouldest eat or drink that hast no better thoughts,  Trap. 
Not as long as I pay for't; what the Devil have I to do with your souldery Sir Captain? give me leave to be of my own mind, and a Coward; for i'm sure no wise man but wood say as I do, let those follow your wars that are weary of their lives.  Matte. 
Thou art as dunghill a minded Rascal as ere I heard in my life; I would not for any thing thou wast a Spaniard, thou wouldst be a slander to the whole Nation. And Villain, I tell thee if thou wert one, I would kill thee; Mattemores would do it, and so I leave it.  Exit. Trap. 
Farewell my Sir Don, go hang yourself, what have I to do with your wars trow? for nothing would I venture to fight but Flametta, and for her I durst not exceed about it fifty Cuffs, or about with a little pair of Cudgels at the most: I should never endure to shoot off a Gun, not I, the very noise of it would make me endanger my Breeches,  Enter Horatio. 
Brunetto, honest Brunetto, how dost do? be merry man, this time will have an end man, and till it come be as jovial as thou canst, thou wouldst even a ble●● thyself to a seen how I vexed the patience of my Lord Barbarin.  Horat. 
You have not sure.  Trap. 
Marry but I have, and to the purpose too.  Horat. 
Then you are undone Trappolin.  Trap. 
Why man?  Horat. 
The Duke has left him and the Lord Machavil governor's till his return,  Trap. 
The Devil he has.  Horat. 
'tis very true.  Trap. 
Troth than I am but little better I fear.  Enter Officers. 1. 
That's he,  2. 
Lay hold on him.  Trap. 
Brunetto, I am unden, thy Trappolin must to the Jail, pray you my small friends give me leave to speak but one word, Remember me to my sugar-candy Flametta.  3. 
Away with him.  4. 
To prison with the saucy Rogue.  Exeunt. Horat. 
I came to Mantoa to aid the Duke  
My Uncle 'gainst his foes the Florentines,  
Where hearing every man to praise the beauty  
Of sweet Prudentia, the report did win me;  
Being taken in the wars, I was not sad,  
Because I was to go where she did live:  
But seeing so many Princes all desirous▪  
To marry her, I knew the great Duke never  
Would bestow her on Savoys second Son.  
And therefore yet I have concealed myself;  
Nor doth she know I am Horatio:  
For want of opportunity I yet  
Could ne'er so much as sigh within her hearing.  Enter Prudentia and Hippolita. Hipo. 
The Lady Isabel, by her picture,  
May be supposed to be a matchless fair one;  
Each feature of her face is wondrous good,  
And her fine head of hair's a curious colour.  Prud. 
In her we shall be happy all, for she  
The world reports hath equal to her form  
A noble and a virtuous mind; Whose that?  Hipo. 
He is your brother's prisoner, called Brunetto,  
That in the wars of Mantoa was took.  Prud. 
'tis a handsome man.  Hipo. 
And thought by all the Court a Gentleman  
Of good descent, but he hath not disclosed  
His parentage to any.  Prude. 
Why doth he not?  Hipol. 
That no man knows yet besides himself.  Prud. 
How melancholy he doth seem?  Hipo. 
He hath good cause for it Madam:  
Who can be merry in Captivity?  Pruden. 
'tis true;  
A Gentleman of good descent supposed,  
I never saw a man of braver Carriage,  
Nor one that pleased me better than he doth;  
Aha!  Hipo. 
Why sigh you Madam?  Prud. 
To think of fortune; perhaps this prisoner  
Is of a house as good as the Medici's,  
Hath lived before the wars of Mantua,  
In all the happiness you could desire,  
And now we see him thus.  Hipol. 
Methinks I hear him sigh.  Prud. 
And so do I  Hipo. 
He's gone.  Exit Horatio. Prud. 
But with how sad a gate?  
Methinks I am not as I was before.  
Hippolita.  Hip. 
Madam.  Prud. 
Prithee go tune my Lute, I have a mind  
To sing a little, I shall forget to play  
If I so seldom use it.  Hip. 
I go Madam.  Exit Hippolita. Prud. 
I have sent her hence that I might search my heart,  
For sure it is not as it lately was;  
It is so full of thoughts, I cannot find  
The free access into it I had wont:  
What should the reason be, what have I done  
To breed this alteration? nothing I,  
Ere I came here I felt myself as free  
From this strange— what it is I cannot tell,  
The place is not bewitched sure, nor have  
I seen aught but this hapless prisoner.  
‛ Alas poor Gentleman, (for in his looks  
And in his carriage I can guests him such)  
How little to the fates art thou beholding  
To let thee live a prisoner thus? how now!  
What is't I say, talk of Brunetto? Oh,  
I am in Love, the Gods will have it so.  Exit.  

Scena tertia.  Enter Barbarino, Machavil, Mattemores, and Officers leading Trappolin after them. Barb. 
This man, Lord Machavil, is one of those  
That doth in Florence nourish vice, he is  
A pander, one that if he sees a stranger,  
Strait makes acquaintance with him, for what end  
Yourself may guests; so he may gain thereby  
He would betray our daughters, lead our sons  
To Brothels, vicious and full of rottenness.  Trap. 
I wonder how the Devil he came to know any thing that I did.  Barb. 
This writing yesternight was presented to me:  
Here you may see what enormities he is guilty of.  Trap. 
His Lordship would show himself a great hater of bawdry.  Mach. 
'tis good we did examine him.  Mat. 
And there is not such a coward in Tuscany; He's able to corrupt an army.  Trap. 
Signior Captain, never fear it, for I ne'er mean to come into one.  Barb. 
Bring him before us.  Trap. 
Ah that I durst tell my Lord's Excellence why he deals thus with me, 'tis for a wench, and yet how eager he is against bawdry.  Offic. 
Forward Trappolin, go before their Excellencies.  Barb. 
Sirrah, this paper doth not only show  
You are a rogue, your looks declare you one,  
Thou hast as ill a face as ere I saw.  Trap. 
And yet Flametta think'st as good as his,  
I did not lie and if I said a better.  Mac. 
Ere we come to his pandarism, I'll examine him about other matters;  
Sir, do you never use to carry pistols about you?  Trap. 
Sometimes and please your Excellence I do.  Bar. 
Write down that Notary.  Trap. 
What does your Lordship mean, I did not steal them.  Mac. 
I know well enough what I do; sirrah, you went to shoot some body.  Trap. 
Beseech your Honour to take me along with you, I mean money.  Mach. 
That's vain, than Notary tear it out.  Barb. 
Do you ne'er carry other arms neither?  Trap. 
Many times my Lord.  Barb. 
Notary down with it, he shall be talked with for that.  Trap. 
Your Honour is deceiv▪ d again, I mean only arms upon seals, or scutcheons from the Heralds.  Mac. 
This is nothing Notary, tear it out.  Barb. 
A pimp I'm sure he is.  Mac. 
Do you never carry no Love Letters, as from a Gentleman to a Lady, or a Gentlewoman to a Cavalier, or so?  Trap. 
O very oft my Lord.  Barb. 
Do you so indeed? Notary write it down.  Trap. 
Your Honour must understand me, Letters of Love, of friendship, as when a Lady writes unto her brother at Sienna, a wife to her husband at Pisa, a son to his mother at such a place, a father to his daughter married at such a town, I am often hired, and carry them to the Post.  Mac. 
Notary, you must tear out this too.  Barb. 
But sirrah, to come nearer to the matter,  
Do you not keep intelligence with Whores?  
Have you ne'er played the Ruffian? by your means  
Hath no man been provided of a lodging?  Trap. 
This I have no excuse for, the whole city knows me a pimp.  Aside. 
And that it is very nigh my living.  Mac. 
What say you sirrah?  Trap. 
My Lords, I am but a poor fellow, and must live.  Barb. 
By Bawdry?  Trap. 
'tis but a friend's part.  Mac. 
A wicked ones, Notary down with this at large.  Trap. 
Alas my Lord, what hurt is it, if I help a Gentleman to a sound wench, where is there any fault? good your Honours, consider me, think not I am a man alone in this business, that many others live by it as well as I.  Bar. 
What an impudence is this?  
Not only to do ill, but to defend it,  
Is a transgression exceeds forgiveness.  Trap. 
Good my Lord take pity on me, well a day what should I do!  
I have not only done a favour in it for myself, but also a courtesy for many a Gentleman.  Mach. 
Do not tear out that, Notary.  Trap. 
Beseech your Honours let him tear't out.  Barb. 
What shall we do with this villain?  Mac. 
Why let's hang him and there's an end of him.  Trap. 
That's true I faith, consider my Lords, that never man was put to death for such a matter, but rather that they have been beloved, and well paid by noble men and cavalieres.  Mach. 
Had we not best to condemn him to the Galleys? or le's banish him.  Barb. 
I that's the best.  Trap. 
Beseech your Honours pity me.  Mac. 
After to morrow, Trappolin, if thou beest seen in Florence thou shalt die, be hanged; we banish thee for term of life, therefore prepare against to morrow to be gone.  Trap. 
Pray your Honours.  Bar. 
Notary, write down he's banished.  Mac. 
You rogue, it is irrevocable, and therefore make you ready.  Trap. 
I think I am the first man that ever was banished for such a matter; were all of my profession in the City served so, I think we should make an Army Royal of us.  Barb. 
This matter is concluded, Trappolin;  
Go seek your fortune. My Lord Machavil;  
We may depart.  Exeunt. Matte. 
Thou man of dirt, hadst thou a Soldier been,  
This banishment had never been pronounced.  Trap. 
But Sir Captain, I fear I should have been killed, which is worse.  Matte. 
If for thy Country, t' had been a noble death.  Trap. 
I had rather live Cap. then die nobly.  Matte. 
Thou man composed of sand, in vain I spend  
My breath to talk with such a slave as thou;  
Go and be hanged, for ●o thou do dost deserve,  
And might I judge thee, it should be thy end.  Exit. Trap. 
Thou brazen-headed Coxcomb, may'st thou go to the devil with a Drum before thee; I had as leeve be banished out of my Country and walk in peace, as be out on't in the wars.  Enter Horatio. 
Brunetto, O Brunetto, I must leave thee, I must be gone Man to morrow, farewell Florence.  Hora. 
Why, what's the matter Trappolin?  Trap. 
Why, I have banished the Lord Barberino, and the Lord Machavil.  Hora. 
How! you banished them?  Trap. 
They have banished me, or I them, 'tis all one, I must be gone, and the devil a bit a money I have: shall I help thee to a Wench Brunetto? Or if thou hast no mind to one, knowst thou any body that has? I'd fain be earning a little money.  Hora. 
I wish thee well, live honest Trappolin,  
And so thou shalt be sure to prosper better;  
This Ring I give thee, sell it, and the money  
Spend to maintain thee.  Trap. 
Honest Brunetto, faith  
An ere I can I will requite thee fully;  
Farewell, I must also take my leave  
Of my Flametta▪ we shall cry together  
Like unto School Boys that are to be whipped.  Exit. Hora. 
Alas poor simple Trappolin, I pity  
Thy fortune, yet 'tis better far than mine;  
Of all mankind I am most miserable,  
And lead a life would make a soul prove mortal,  
Yet do I not repine: Most dear Prudentia,  
I never can endure enough for thee,  
So that at last I may attain my wishes:  
There's not a grief mankind did ever suffer▪  
Nor pain, I would not pass to make thee mine;  
Thou art the Centre of my wishes, all  
Horatio's thoughts upon thy beauty fall.  Enter Prudentia. Prud. 
O Heavens, be merciful, and if I tell  
Him I am his, let him say he is mine▪  
I have a fire within my breast must out,  
Longer I cannot hide it, if he now  
Does not woo me, I shall solicit him.  
How sad a pace he walks? how melancholy  
Does he look? Love compels us unto things  
In others we would scorn; I'll speak unto him,  
Because I fear he dares not unto me.  
Brunetto.  Hora. 
Divinest Lady.  Prud. 
I thought a Gentleman (for so I guess you)  
Could have endured affliction better far,  
That in the wars durst venture so his person.  Hora. 
Most Excellent Princess, many thousand men  
Can suffer well the dangers of a battle,  
But there are few or none at all that can  
Bear out the passions of a mind afflicted.  Prud. 
Then you are discontent: Alas, you long for  
Your liberty, and (truth) I cannot blame you.  Hora. 
Then should I hate myself, being a slave to one  
Whom I desire evermore to serve.  
Ye that command the destinies of men,  
Now let me die, and if I shall not prosper:  
Know, Noblest Lady, that the prisoner  
That speaks unto you is a Prince by birth;  
I am Horatio, second son unto  
The Duke of Savoy, and the Piemondt Prince;  
At Mantoa the fame of your perfections  
Captived my soul, and when that I was took,  
I did account myself a happy man,  
Being to go where you did live; I know,  
Most dearest Princess, that I am unworthy  
So great a happiness as is your love;  
Yet if you deny me, witness heaven,  
I never will return unto Turin,  
But here die languishing for your refusal.  
The Duke my father soon would pay my ransom,  
But thraldom for your sake I have esteemed  
Above liberty and pleasures of a Court.  Prud. 
My thanks, most gracious heavens— Brunetto is  
A Prince, most worthy brave Horatio,  
I scorn to dally with my happiness,  
Like some that love to counterfeit their joys;  
Know I do love thee dear as my own soul,  
And that if thou hadst now been silent, I  
My heart unto thee had disclosed, live happy,  
And if it in my power lies thou shalt.  Hora. 
Doubt, fear, despair be gone, I am a man  
That envy not the blessed lives of Kings;  
Now she hath deigned to say these happy words,  
I care not though all mankind threaten me.  
Most excellent and mercifullest Lady,  
Y'ave raised me to a joy beyond my thoughts,  
May all the Gods requite you for this goodness,  
And I wear out my life to do you service.  Prud. 
My dear Horatio enough, I doubt not  
Thy affections equal unto mine; we will  
Love while we live, and may we die forgotten  
When we do cease to love, say I not well?  Hora. 
Admired Princess, you out-speak me much,  
But never shall out-love me.  Prud. 
Heavens be kind,  
And make us in two bodies have one mind.  Exeunt.  
Finis Actus Primi.   

Actus secundus & scena prima.  
Enter Trappolin solus. Trap. 
THis banished life is very doleful, I walk I know not whither, and every step I go Flametta comes into my mind, I think how she cried when we parted, and swore that she would go too, and certainly so she wood, if I had not told her she was not banished, and might not. Farewell my true Flametta; and the Devil take the two scurvy Lords Barbarino, and Machavil, for Captain Mattemores he is a prattling ass; but by my conscience, he could ne'er ha' turned me lose for such a matter. Farewell my draughts of Montefiascone and Bologna Sausages, me thinks this is a very melancholy place: I have not seen a living body these two hours, but they had wings, or four legs: let me bethink me whither to betake myself; for in Tuscany stay I must not, I'd to Rome and turn Friar if I had any Latin in me; there is nothing of Milan or Naples, without I mean to turn soldier for one dinner a day. Farewell all my good suppers I was wont to have, the wenches I helped Gentlemen to: Venice, I that's the likeliest place of all, and there I'll follow my own trade, I love to be fingering of Mons, and Pole-axe Ryals, well then I'll to Venice, and turn pimp; it is a good gainful life in Italy, full of ease and pleasure, especially if the flesh be young and handsome. Methinks I hear a bustling in yond trees, I hope it be not a thief; for than I shall lose the ring Brunetto gave me, and may go hang myself. yond's an old man, an he be one I care not, for sure I shall be good enough for him.  Enter Mago a Conjurer. Mago. 
Son, you are banished, I know all the matter.  Trap. 
'tis true, old friend, I am indeed; but how the Devil came you to know it?  Mago. 
Why the Devil told me.  Trap. 
Alas that ere I was born! I pray you father conjurer do not hurt me.  Mago. 
Son Trappolin, I am so far from hurting thee, that thee I do intend to make a Prince.  Trap. 
I pray you pardon me father conjurer, I have no mind to domineer or swagger in hell.  Mag. 
You understand me not, thou shalt return to Florence.  Trap. 
And be hanged there for my labour.  Mago. 
Be honoured there, and be supposed the Duke,  
Who now in Milan is about his wife.  Trap. 
Faith if you can bring this about, father conjurer; I should laugh indeed; but suppose it could be done, when his Highness comes  
Woe be to my neck.  Mag. 
No fear at all, leave all to me, and but remember what I say and thou art safe.  Trap. 
Faith I know not what to think of this; but Conjurers can do much.  Mag. 
I'll do it never doubt, come near to me, within this circle go, and do not fear though thou seest devils skip about thee.  Trap. 
Father Conjurer farewel, I had rather live in banishment then see the Devil.  Mago. 
Thou silly fellow do not fear, in this  
Myriad of fiends dare not, nor can they hurt thee;  
Here thou shalt stand as safe from any danger  
As ever thou didst yet in any place.  
Think'st thou I have so little power over spirits,  
As they dare disobey what I command?  
Tell me thy wish, and if thou hast it not,  
Before thy face I'll sink away with fear.  
Give me thy hand and come.  Trap. 
Father conjurer, I faith I wish nothing more than what you have promised me already; could that be done I need ne'er be a pander again.  Mago. 
Why do you stay?  Trap. 
Shall I be safe?  Mago. 
As free from peril as you can desire.  Trap. 
Why then I'll venture, being for such a matter;  
But honest father Conjurer, if for fear I chance  
To die, let not your devils take my body.  Mago. 
Come, do not fear at all, there is no need.  Trap. 
I will venture, but I pray you let not the devils come too near me.  Mago. 
You that below frequent the Stygian lake,  
And in Cocytus' waves do bathe yourselves,  
You that upon the strands of Phlegetov  
Do use to walk, attend unto my charms,  
Appear, I charge thee to appear, thou fiend,  
Thou that over man's head power haste, appear  
Eo thou spirit come,—  Trap. 
Good father conjurer  
Let not the Devils be too ugly, lest  
I play the sloven and annoy your nose.  Mago. 
Fear not.  Trap. 
Honest Master Conjurer, yonder comes your Devil, pray you circled me once more, for I'm afraid he'll be too bold with me.  Mago. 
Not all the fiends that are in hell can do  
The least annoyance to thee, Trappolin:  
Thou art safe, and so believe thou art, come Eo  
Give me that hat unchanted.  Eo. 
Here it is,  
Command me ought else.  Mago. 
No, vanish now:  
Son Trap. observe me well, this hat  
Keep always on thy head, 'tis Eo called,  
One of the things will make thee thought a Prince.  Trap. 
'tis none of the handsomest, mine's of a better block, I think some Naples Devil made it, 'tis so high crowned, ● one that saw me in this would rather think me a fool then a duke.  Mago. 
Meo thou spirit of magic glass appear,  
I charge thee in dread Pluto's name to come;  Trap. 
More Devils yet! is the Circle sure, Father Conjurer? and t' be not I pray you take an order with it, I have no mind at all to venture myself against the Devil.  Mago. 
Have I not told thee thou art safe? fear not,  Trap. 
Yonder's another Devil I think of M●ran, for he brings a looking glass with him.  Mago. 
Deliver it, be gone.  Trap. 
I thank you for it, (besworn) for in good earnest father Conjurer I would have as little the company of your Devils as is possible.  Mago. 
But before I give you this mirror (Son)  
Receive this powder by Magic art composed,  
And secret spells; he upon whom thou flingest it  
(It hath such hidden virtue in it) will  
Be took by all for Trappolin.  Trap. 
For me?  Mago. 
Yes certainly for thee.  Trap. 
Say you so? why than I faith with all my heart: Give it me, I swear unto you (old father) the very best man in Tuscany shall be Trappolin.  Mago. 
Here put it up and keep it safe.  Trap. 
And I do not hang me.  Mago. 
Now are you ready for the looking glass?  Trap. 
I am very ready indeed.  Mago. 
Son Trappolin, this looking glas● was wrought  
In the deep Caverns of the dark Abyse, I  
Composed of the mud of Phlegeton,  
And with the blood of tortured Miscreants,  
It is a Mirror I have studied long  
And now have brought unto perfection:  
This upon thee I do bestow, a gift  
Such as the Crowns of Emperors could not buy.  Trap. 
And yet Father Conjurer, I have seen half a dozen better sold for a pistol.  Mago. 
They were the works of mortals: When thou hast  
A cloak I'll give thee two: but look in this  
And thou shalt see thyself the Duke; and if,  
When he returns again, thou meetest him  
(But throw the powder on him first) and he  
Begins to rage, bid him look in't, and it  
Will show him the reflection of thee.  Trap. 
Say you so? why then give me the glass.  Mago. 
Here, stand still, I will now raise up the fiend  
That hath the Cloak which I have promised thee.  Trap. 
Father Conjurer, as you love your son Trappolin, give me another  
Circle or two, for I promise you I fear this almost worn out,  Mago. 
Still thou dost fear; be bold and confident,  
Hell cannot hurt thee as thou stand'st.  Trap. 
Why then let him come.  Mago. 
In Proserpin's dread name our Sovereign Queen,  
Areto, I do, ●●●ge thee to appear;  
Thus by th●croast of this enchanted Wand  
I do command thee fiend unto this place.  Trap. 
No more Father Conjurer, hold, here comes the Devil, he's a Tailor in hell sure, for he brings a cloak.  Areo. 
Thou against whom fierce Cerberus dares not bark,  
Here is the Cloak, which, to obey thy will,  
We (that thy servants are) have made.  Mago. 
'tis well:  
Be gone, I licence thy depart; this Cloak,  
Son Trappolin, doth perfect thee the Duke.  Trap. 
I know not, but on my conscience the poorest of his Highness' servants near wore a worse, it seems to me to have been made of these miserable thefts of a beggarly Tailor, 'tis of so many Colours; and for the fashion of it (by your leave Father Conjurer) 'tis very clownish, and something inclining to the fools fashion.  Mago. 
Thy words, Son Trappolin, are vain. Those Counts  
And Marquesses that swagger it in Gold,  
Shall not appear so glorious to the eyes  
Of men as thou in this.  Trap. 
Father Conjurer, I'll be ruled by you, put on.  Mago. 
Thou art the great Duke now in show, the wisest  
Judgements will believe thee so, now take the glass and see thyself in't.  Trap. 
Beseech your Highness pardon me, I am  
A poor subject of yours, for a small matter  
Banished by envious Lords.  Mago. 
Why Trappolin what folly is this?  Trap. 
Besworne to you Father I thought I saw his Highness, and was a begging to be pardoned:  Mago. 
Away with ignorance, 'twas thy Reflection,  
As thou didst seem unto thyself, so thou  
Shalt likewise to the world appear; now mark me,  
Not one of these can make thee like the Duke;  
They altogether do: ne'er leave them off  
Without thou art secure, for one but missing  
Thou wilt appear thyself: The Hat is called  
After the Devil's name that brought it, Eo,  
The Looking Glass Meo, the Cloak Areo,  
And there are fiends within them.  Trap. 
Father Conjurer, I thank you for your kindness, take all your ware again; carry so many Devils about me? so I shall be sure to be carried to the Devil by 'em.  Mago. 
Suspect no hurt, they can as well destroy  
Their immortality as do thee harm.  Trap. 
Why then (honest father Conjurer) I'll venture myself among them, but I swear unto you if they begin to stir I'll even fling them all away without more a do.  Mago. 
Farewell son Trappolin, return to Florence,  
And flourish in the pleasures of the court:  
Other affairs command me to be gone,  
Give me thy hand; farewell son Trappolin.  Trap. 
Be not so hasty (my dear old father) one word before you go: how shall I say, that I bring not my Duchess with me, but come alone?  Mago 
Why any thing, what you will.  Trap. 
I'll make 'em believe then that I licenced her to stay as long as she pleases, and that I came alone to see how they governed in my absence.  Mago. 
'Twill do, now have you done with me?  Trap. 
I have: I thank you for all your things here, fare you well honest father Conjurer.  Exit Mago. Trap. 
Now Trappolin is no more Trappolin,  
What I am in my glass I'll look again:  
The great Duke, ha! 'tis well, 'tis very well;  
This scurvy Cloak doth seem his gallant one,  
And this base Hat his Highness' Beaver; my face,  
My body, legs and all seem changed; I faith  
The Conjurer is a wondrous learned fellow.  
You scoundril Lords that banished me, I'll make  
Sport with your scurvy Honours, that I will.  
Eo, Meo, and Areo attend  
Unt ● your offices well, and guard your friend.   

Scena Secunda.  Enter Sforza the Duke of Milan, Hortentia the Duchess, Isabel his sister, Lavinio the great Duke with Attendants. Sfor. 
Most noble brother (for so the Temple Rites  
Of Hymen done do licence me to call you)  
Honour our entertainment one half hour  
Longer, and we will leave you with your Bride.  Lavinio. 
Great Prince, the glories you have done me here  
I leave to future Chronicles to tell,  
And still you do increase them; sure no man  
In Milan ever did receive such honours;  
You always shall command me.  Sfor. 
Sir, we deserve no compliments, we have  
Our wishes, if you but rest satisfied  
Of our good meaning.  Lavinio. 
Most gracious Madam, the Roman Emperors  
Would have wondered at your Court had they but known it:  
Which of them all would not have blest his fates  
For the fruition of so rich a Beauty,  
As is the matchless Lady Isabel?  Isab. 
Sir, of your own you may say what you please,  
But I am sure you over-praise me much.  La. 
Dearest of all the world, thou dost deserve  
Princes and Poets both to speak thy worth.  
Blessed be the powers divine, that me of all  
Mankind did choose to make most fortunate,  
In giving me the glory of the earth.  Sfor. 
Sat down most noble brother, from your Bride  
We will not part you: sister, this place is yours;  
So let them now begin.  Enter Hymen, Luna, Mars, Mercury, Jupiter, Venus, Saturn, Sol, after Music. Hym. 
Hither we are descended from above,  
To gratulate your nobly grounded love;  
That you most worthy happy pair should know  
The Gods themselves are pleased with what you do.  
Me you have honoured, and to honour you,  
I have brought the Deities along, which do  
Command and rule the days, that they may bless  
You all the year with plenteous happiness.  
May Tuscans Cities boast of Milains Spouse;  
And future Ages, when they would compose  
One graced with all the virtues, her express  
To be a Lady like this Milaness.  
And may the most ingenious Florentines,  
Your Citizens (Great Duke) busy their minds  
In writing, and in singing Marriage-songs,  
Delectable Epithalamiums.  
While you do live love ever, and may you  
Continually your generous heats renew.  
Thus Hymen wishes, and it will go hard  
If what a god says gods do not regard.  
Thus I could spend the night, but that would prove  
A wrong unto my Rites and to your love.  Here they dance, and Hymen leads it. Luna. 
Cynthia I am, that with my borrowed light  
Outshine the Stars, and do command the night:  
Many a time, when else I veiled would ride,  
I will appear to see you with your Bride.  
Lamps nor wax lights you shall not need, for I  
Instead of them will ever more be by.  
And may you in this life you have begun,  
Equal in love me and Endymion.  Mars. 
Though my aspect be fierce, and wars presage,  
To you they shall be such as Lovers wage▪  
Sweet kisses, soft embraces, and such things  
As amorous Queens enjoy and amorous Kings.  
You therefore without pity both may fight  
Battles, not full of danger but delight:  
And may they last until I part you two;  
Which I do promise I will never do.  Mer. 
Hermes I am, Maja's winged Son, and shine  
Among the Planets in a Globe of mine:  
And though 'tis true I favour thefts and sleights,  
Yet will do none t' diminish your delights.  
Love therefore, laugh and kiss, embrace, and be  
Secure, nothing can hurt you without me;  
And if I ever do, may I forgo  
My Sphere, and live among the fiends below.  jupit. 
Of all the Gods and Goddesses I am  
The most supreme, and bear the chiefest name▪  
For Love what is it that I have not done  
To bring my wishes to conclusion?  
I for myself have done no more than I  
Will do for you, to make you live in joy.  
Therefore most happy pair of Lovers, fear  
Nothing, since jove himself doth hold you dear;  
Live merrily, and let this be your mover,  
That jupiter himself was once a Lover.  Venus. 

A Song.  

Since in my Orb I shined fair,  
And Lovers did befriend,  
(The morning and the evening Star)  
I never could commend  
(Heaven blessed pair) none like to you,  
Whom time shall never make untrue.   

May Hesperus and Vesper lose  
Their lights, fair Venus fall;  
If all her power she doth not use  
To prosper you withal.  
May other Deities grant you life,  
I'll make you loving man and wife.    Sat. 
Though I am old and rigid in aspect,  
And cold and youthful sports do not affect;  
And though my influences many ways  
Adverse to others be, and cross their days:  
For you, heaven-loved pair, myself I'll force,  
And run a milder and a gentler course;  
His ancient custom Saturn will forget,  
Rise for your pleasures, for your pleasures set.  
Doubt me not therefore, for my vow is strong,  
That for your sakes again I wish me young.  Sol. 
Phoebus I am, the glorious guide of day,  
That all the Planets lighten with my ray:  
I am the brightsome, lightsome Charioteer  
That heaven and earth adorn within my Sphere;  
And know what 'tis to be in love since I  
Followed my Daphne, who from me did fly.  
May I lose all my glory, all my Beams  
Fall like my Phaeton int' Ocean streams,  
If all my faculties I do not try  
To make you live in joy, and love in joy.  
In Summer time when you int' Arbours go,  
I will not shine to trouble you below,  
Will only peep to see you kiss and smile,  
To make me think, this I have done ere while.  
In Winter season when the Frost doth stay,  
And hinder Rivers to go on their way;  
When flakes of Snow do cover earth's green face,  
I for your sakes will thaw off both apace.  
In pleasures evermore you shall accord;  
Apollo cannot falsify his word.  Here they dance another dance which Hymen leads. Hym. 
The gracious Planets which command the days  
By powerful influences, you have heard  
To bless you both according to their ways,  
Vowing to be your keepers and your guard.  
Them for your sakes with me I brought along,  
That they might prosper you as well as I,  
Because this marriage knot I'd tie so strong,  
That it there nothing ever should untie.  
You whom the heavens will prosper all your life,  
You whom on earth there's nothing can offend,  
Most happy pair, most happy man and wife,  
Your lives in love wear out and in love end.  
Nor shall a Poet hired for his gain,  
Upon your Tomb a feigned verse engrave;  
men's tongues and tears shall make you both remain  
Above the power of an Epitaph.  
But may you live till you weary be,  
Not of yourselves, but of these earthly sports;  
And the eternal joys above would see,  
Which ever are in joves immortal Courts.  
Thus unto you do gods their wishes give,  
And unto them may you according live.  Exeunt Maskers▪ Sfor. 
I think, Hortentia, now the Mask is done,  
Our brother gladly would go to his rest.  Hort. 
And it is time, most noble brother, when  
You please we will attend you to your Chamber,  
And sister, we will see you laid in bed;  
Methinks it is a very pretty thing  
To see a Virgin blush, look pale and blush.  Isa. 
'Tis sport to others, to the Maid 'tis none.  La. 
Most excellent, Princess when you please let's go,  
For now each minute is as tedious to me  
As years have been, so much I do desire  
The chaste embraces of my matchless Spouse.  Sfor. 
And worthy friend, let us entreat your stay  
As long in Milain as is possible;  
You cannot be in Florence more beloved,  
Nor by the better nor the meaner sort.  La. 
What I can do you know you may command  
Unto my utmost power.  Hort. 
Lights.  Lavi. 
My fairest, dearest love, your hand, this part  
Of happiness makes me suppose the rest.  Exeunt.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Mattemores. Matt. 
Those lazy times that do degenerate minds,  
And breed new thoughts in most Heroic hearts,  
By noble spirits are to be abhorred,  
And loathed as the ruin of their souls.  
Whilst I did follow the Triumphant War  
Through fire and blood, I was a happy man;  
I thought no pleasure was a parallel  
To the loud cry of mortal wounded foes:  
But now I am transformed from myself,  
Hippolita hath charmed me with a look;  
May I but hear her speak, how I rejoice▪  
M ay I but hear her sing, I think me blest.  
O how my heart's ashamed of my tongue,  
W hich never until now effeminate thoughts  
C old win upon. O would to heaven this Lady  
W ere but a man, and circled round with death,  
That I might kill her, and release myself:  
Or were she like the Warlike Amazon,  
With whom renowned Theseus did contend,  
That with my honour I might challenge her  
For an enchanter, and a witch. How fond  
And foolishly I rave! strongest resolutions  
A woman's powerful beauty doth destroy;  
He that can conjure men, unpeople towns,  
Cover the sea with Fleets, drink rivers dry  
With armed squadrons he conducts to fight,  
Whom potent monarches fear, and Emperors wish  
To make their friend, a Lady's smile, or eye  
Subdues above resistance, and makes die.  Enter Horatio and Prudentia. Hora. 
Most dearest worthiest Princess, I am blest  
Above the proudest of my former wishes;  
Your love to me was like a thing desired,  
But far from expectation: as men  
Forlorn and wretched, being content to die,  
And sure to suffer, wish to live, although,  
They fully do despair of life; of late  
Even so was it with me, I loved you  
Above my lives expression, but did ever  
Despair the blessedness of such an honour.  Prud. 
My dear Horatio, I cannot speak  
So well as you, but I can love as truly.  Mat. 
A strange discovery! I will retire  
More close and hear the rest.  Pru. 
And 〈…〉 Sir,  
Because I know my brother the Great Duke  
Will not at all, or scarce allow this match,  
I will with you whensoever you command  
Leave Florence, and what fortune it shall please  
The Gods to send us, bear with cheerfulness.  Hora. 
Excellent merciful Prudentia,  
I must pray Heaven make you a full requital,  
For I shall ever be unable.  Prud. 
I cannot stay longer with you now, at our next meating I'll cloy you with my company. A kiss.  
Farewell my heart's best pleasure.  Exit Prudentia. Hora. 
Let others travel Italy all over,  
To talk of such a City, such a place:  
Go to magnificent and holy Rome,  
Once the sole Empress of the conquered world;  
To Venice●i●h ●i●h, commanding, politic;  
Unto sweet Naples plenteous in Nobility;  
Unto great Milan; unto sat Bologna,  
Civil Ferrara, Arriostoes' town,  
Strong-walled Milan which Antenor built▪  
The Trojan Prince, and Titus Livius fame's  
For his nativity and sepulchre;  
To subtle Burgamo, most highly honoured  
For near relation to Tarquato Tasso;  
To proud and ●●a●ely Genua renowned  
By her seafaring citizen Col●mbo;  
Worthy Varona, old Catulius city;  
Bloody Peruggin, warlike Bessia,  
Glorious Man●ua, Virgilius Maro's birthplace,  
Good Rimini, iron Pistoya,  
Fine languaged Sienna, and industrious Luca,  
Odd-humored Forly, honest old Ravenna,  
Ill-aired Simegallia, Capua  
Effeminate and amorous, wherein  
The Carthaginian Captains Soldiers were  
Spoiled and debauched with pleasures; Pisa hanging,  
Pesaro a garden of best fruits, Ancona  
Praised for the Port Loyal, and true Urbino,  
Round Ascoli▪ long Recanatis, built  
Upon a steep hills slage, Foligno full  
Of sugry streets, among the Apennine,  
Faro for handsome women most extolled,  
And Modena happiest of them all▪  
From beauteous comely Florence when I part  
Without Prudentia, thunder strike my heart.  Exit. Mat. 
A gallant resolution; for the man  
I cannot blame him, but the Princess, she  
To look so low, and dote upon a s●ive,  
Seems very strange, and full of wonder to me.  
Had Dolphian Oracles, ever adored  
For uttering truth, spoke this, I should have doubted:  
She whom we thought? Saint●● pattern for Nuns,  
Thus to forget herself, it doth amaze me.  
O women, I could rage against the sex!  
And loved I not Hipoli●a I wo●ld.  
She cannot hear me, and I needs must speak  
A word or two, they are all false and fickle all,  
The poison of men's happiness, within  
(Though they are fair without) most full of sin.  Enter Barbarino and Machavil. Barb. 
Good morrow Captain Mattemores.  Mac. 
How do you Captain?  Mat. 
Your Honour's humble slave, I am well, but sad;  
And so had all the Court good cause to be,  
Did they but know so much as I  Bar. 
Why Captain,  
What's the matter?  Mat. 
I'll not be silent for her Honour's sake;  
Prudentia the Princess is in Love,  
With whom do you suppo●e my Lords?  Mac. 
I think with none, for we all know, she yet  
Hath slighted Modena's and Parma's Duke,  
And seemed careless of mankind.  Mat. 
Alas!  
She were most happy were it one of them:  
It is Brunetto she's in love withal.  Barb. 
How?  Mac. 
Impossible!  Mat. 
It is a thing most true, my eyes and ears  
Have seen and heard it, while I stood unseen.  Mac. 
You amaze us.  Barb. 
It is a thing I never should have thought,  
Though spent my life in fond imaginations.  Mat. 
As I have seen an amorons cloud receive  
A stately hill into her lovely breast,  
And of his lofty head our eyes bereave,  
And seem to lull his senses unto rest:  
So did the scornful Lady deign to leave  
All her majestic state, and sore oppressed  
With inward flames, her eager arms she cast  
About his neck, kissed and embraced him fast.  Bar. 
Wonders.  Mac. 
How the Great Duke will rage?  Mat. 
And do you not my Lords in time prevent them,  
They'll steal away I fear, for so she vowed,  
When he but said the word she wood.  Mac. 
By his imprisonment we'll hinder that.  Enter Horatio. Barb. 
Here is the man we spoke of.  Mac. 
For the Prince's honour let us keep it close  
As possible we can. You of the guard.  Enter the guard. Barb. 
Seize on Brunetto, carry him to prison,  
Bid Puchannello keep him safe,  
'tis our pleasures.  Hora. 
What violence is this? O had I been suffered to wear a sword, some of you should pay dearly for it▪  Mac. 
Away with him.  Exeunt the guard with Horatio. Mat▪ 
My Lords, you have done wisely to prevent  
So great a dishonour as might have ensued  
Tainted the family of the Medici's,  
And been a lasting sorrow to the Duke.  Enter Trappolin. Barb. 
His Highness is returned.  Mach. 
Great Sir, upon our knees we welcome you;  
You come unlooked for, we did not expect  
This happy time so soon by fourteen days.  
Where is our Duchess?  Trap. 
Your Duchess will not come till the Gods know when, for I do not, I have gi'en her leave to stay as long as she will, but besworne I fear you have governed but scurvily in my absence▪ I hear that you have banished an honest poor man called Trappolin▪ is it true?  Mach. 
So please your Highness he deserved no less.  Trap. 
Why what hurt had he done, had he knocked any body o'th' the head?  
What was his fault?  Bar. 
He was a pander, and corrupted youth.  Trap. 
You lie Sirrah not panders but whores do that, and not they neither if they be sound: banish one of my subjects for such a matter? besides were there no more in Florence but he?  Mac. 
Be not displeased we humbly pray your Highness,  
For we did think we did it for the best.  Mat. 
I wonder at our Duke in this.  Trap. 
Well, I am very weary, I left all my train behind with my wife, and rid as fast as I could drive that I might come unlooked for the better to see now you behaved yourselves, which you have done bad enough. When I was almost at Florence a saucy Varlet robbed me and stole my horse from me, so that I was beholding to my legs to bring me hihither. Barberino and Machavil come you hither both of you.  Mach. 
What is your Highness' pleasure?  Trap. 
Sirrah Barberino hold by Mach's breeches, and stoop, for on thy back I will ride to my Palace.  Barb. 
I'll go fetch a Coach for your Highness.  Trap. 
The Devil take your Coaches, stoop I say without more ado: where is your obedience?  Matte. 
I think the Duke's run mad, or foxed sound at the least I know not what to think of this.  Trap. 
You Sirrah Don, run by my side, supply my Lackeys office, wonder not but obey.  Mach. 
There is no remedy: heaven be merciful, I think his Highness run mad for fear when he was robbed.  Trap. 
Now on and do not loiter:  
Thus like the Roman Emperors will I ride  
To triumph through Florence; stumble not you had best,  
Chariots them carried, a Tuscan Noble me; mine is the starelier and the braver way;  
Eo, Meo and Areo thanks.  Matte. 
He jeers us and miscalls us.  Trap. 
On apace,  
That I may quickly be in my Palace.  Exeunt Omnes.  
Finis Actus Secundi.   

Actus Tertius, Scena prima.  
Enter Horatio in prison. Hora. 
UNto the man enthralled black and obscure  
Is the clear beauty of the brightest day;  
Through Iron Grates he only sees the light,  
And thereby doth increase his misery;  
Those whom he doth perceive in joy to pass  
Augment his wretchedness, by making him  
To think that thus I lately was myself:  
But admirablest Lady of the world,  
Divine Prudentia, may I die abhorred  
By all mankind, if I repine at all,  
Seeing for thy sake I do suffer this;  
The exquisitest tortures curious inventions make,  
For thee I would think sports, and undergo;  
Mayst thou live happily and free from care,  
And all my miseries of no moment are.  Enter Trappolin. Trap. 
Eo, Meo and Areo, faith you are all brave Devils all on you, and my father Conjurer an excellent fellow; I love to see myself, Meo thou art not the work of Moran; No, the Duke himself I seem. I now must learn to walk in state, and speak proudly, I'll play such tricks with my Lord banishers, shall make me sport enough: banish a poor man for doing courtesies! it is against the law of friendship, I am supposed a Prince, the Florentines acknowledge me the great Duke; what ever I do though never so bad passeth with approbation: poor Trappolin turned Duke! 'tis very strange, but very true;  
Would the fates favour panders in this wise,  
He were a fool besworn would not turn pimp,  
Seeing Pander's Dukes become, he is an ass  
That may have't will let the office pass.  
O me Brunetto, alas for thee man! how cam'st thou there? I think in my heart an there be a mischief in the world thou wilt be at one end orother on't,  
So ho Pucchanello, Pucchanello!  Puch. 
Who calls:  Enter Pucchanello. Trap. 
That do I Sirrah, let me Brunetto out presently, and bid him come to me.  Pucch. 
Your Highness' pleasure shall be done.  Ex. Trap. 
Alas poor Brunetto! marl what he has done to be locked in such a place, I think in my conscience 'tis not for any Lechery, for I could never get him to't, and many a time I have offered him many a good bit: Brunetto to come into the Jail! I cannot tell what to think of it, but be't for what it will out he goes; my good friend Brunetto who gave me a Ring shall not lie there;  
Honest Brunetto.  Enter Brunetto Hora. 
Great Prince:  Trap. 
He makes a very low leg, but I will not be outgone in courtesy;  
Dearest Brunetto.  Hora. 
Your Highness doth forget yourself exceedingly, I am your prisoner.  Trap. 
My best friend good Brunetto.  Hora. 
Beseech your Highness to remember yourself.  Trap. 
So I do but never must forget thee. I am glad to see thee in good health, dear Brunetto.  Hora. 
I shall fall to the ground even now in this salutation; beseech your Highness, I am your prisoner, your slave.  Trap. 
I am thy servant Brunento.  Hora. 
Wonders! I am astonished; upon my humble knees I do congratulate your safe and speedy return.  Trap. 
And upon my knees I do embrace thee Brunetto, thou art an honest man▪ my most sweet Brunetto.  Hora. 
I know not what to think, nor what to speak;  
Beseech your Highness rise.  Trap. 
Not without thee, up Brunetto, honest Brunetto up I say.  Hora. 
Beseech your Highness, I am your humble slave.  Trap. 
I am thy servant Brunetto, and as long as thou liest on the ground so will I too; up therefore, let us rise and talk, away with your compliments; I cannot abide them, up I say, le's rise; thou shalt not stay I swear.  Hora. 
I am amazed, by force I must obey: Great Sir, I know not what to think, you honour me above all expression.  Trap. 
Honour a fig, I love thee Brunetto, thou art a good honest fellow, I love thee with all my heart: Compliment with me, and I will be very angry; without more ado I tell thee I love thee. Puchanello so ho!  
Sirrah Puchanello, bring two chairs hither presently.  Hora. 
Your Highness.  Trap. 
Away with Highness, I say away with it, call me Lavin Duke, plain Medici's, I cannot abide your Highness, your Excellency, your Worship. I hate such idle slimflams, dear Brunetto, how I love thee I faith I do with all my heart, and if I lie unto thee I would I might be hanged.  Hora. 
Sure I am awake, this is no dream.  Trap. 
We will live merrily together, I faith we will Brunetto, how glad I am to see thee in health! come Sirrah, what a while ha' you been a bringing a couple of chairs! set them here Sirrah and be gone.  Exit Pucchanello. 
Brunetto, sit thee down, sit down man I say.  Hora. 
I will attend your Highness on my knees.  Trap. 
Why I am not thy Father, am I? leave fooling and sit thee down, that we may talk together, sit thee here I will have it so,  Hora. 
I am astonished, I humbly pray your Highness.  Trap. 
Pray me no praying, but sit thee down, sit thee here man.  
Brunetto be ruled.  Hora. 
On the right hand, I know not what to think▪  Trap. 
I am something weary Brunetto, and will not not sit without thee, therefore I pray thee make me stand no longer; obey, me for I am the Duke.  Mora. 
Here then so please your Highness.  Trap. 
Why an thou wilt have it there, there let it be, but I am mistake thats on the left hand, what do you think me a clown and without breeding, that I ha' no more manners in me? for shame of the world, sit thee down Brunetto, sit thee down & without more bidding, without thou wilt ha' me lie on the ground, for I am so weary I can scant stand.  Hora. 
There is no remedy, I must obey.  Trap. 
So, well done, sit still man, what art doing, art afraid of me?  Hor. 
What does your Highness mean?  Trap. 
Marry and thou drawst back I'll draw back too; Brunetto sit thee still and let us talk.  Hora. 
I will obey your Highness.  Trap. 
Highness' me no more highness, I cannot abide it, my name is Lavin, call me Lavin Duke, and 'tis enough a conscience.  Hora. 
Great Sir, I am far unworthy of these honours,  
The noblest Florentines would be most proud  
To be thus graced by their Prince.  Trap. 
I like not these set speeches neither, let us talk as we were companions in a Tavern together, and notafter the Court fashion, I am as weary of it as a Dog, I am Brunetto; prithee man how cam'st thou into the Gaol?  Hora. 
O pardon me Dread Sovereign.  Trap. 
On thy knees man? what meanest thou by this, dost take me for Mahomet? as well as I can pardon thee I do, any thing what ere it be, though thou hast killed every body; rise therefore I say Brunetto, and set thee in thyplace again or I'll kneel too.  Hora. 
Most merciful Prince, hear me before, lest you  
Repent your kindness towards me afterward.  Trap. 
Up I say Brunetto, up, I pardon thee any thing, upon condition thou wilt rise and sit thee down.  Hora. 
It is your Highness will.  Trap. 
Now good Brunetto without any fear (for I swear unto thee I do not care what thou hast done, and forgive thee whatsoever it be) tell me the cause.  Hora. 
Dread Sovereign, I was for love put in.  Trap. 
Who put thee in?  Hora. 
Your Highness' Governors, Lord Barberino, and Lord Machavil.  Trap. 
They are a couple of Coxcombs for their pains; who art in love withal?  Hora. 
O pardon me.  Trap. 
Sat still or I will not, and if thou dost I will.  Hora. 
Your Highness Excellent sister— O great Prince!  Trap. 
Sat still Brunetto, wast thou laid up for that?  
Alas for thee, hast thou married her?  Hora. 
So please you Highness no.  Trap. 
It doth neither please my Highness nor Lowness neither, I would thou hadst, and that's all the hurt I wish thee: co ldst thou think I that loved thee so would be angry with thee for this, hast thou her consent?  Hora. 
I have.  Trap. 
I am very glad of it, and I here give thee mine too: prithee Brunetto do me the favour to go and bid Barberino or Machavil come to me, I'll send for my sister presently, and if she says so to me, I'll soon have you married.  Hora. 
You Highness shall command me to my death,  
More willingly unto my life, for so  
This business doth importt; he heavens be praised,  
And ever be propitious to you, bless you  
According to your own and my desires.  Exit. Trap. 
This Brunetto is a good honest fellow, and hath always behaved himself very well, and whatsoever he be I'll give him Prudentia for the Ring he gave me, I will not be ungrateful; he said he was in love with my sister, and if he had them all, I would e'en say much good do his heart with them▪ but he means the Princess, and though I have little to do with her, yet if I can give her him I will, Brunetto's Ring I shall never forget.  Enter Machavil. Mac. 
Your Highness' pleasure.  Trap. 
My Highness' pleasure, Sirrah Lord, is, that you go and tell my sister Prudentia I would speak with her presently, I will expect her here: be gone.  Exit. 
The Duke's life is very pleasant, I take great content in it, and were it not for one thing I were most happy, which is, I dare not disclose myself to my dear Flametta, for she is a woman, and full of title tattle as the rest are; nor if I could win her without making myself known, durst I lie with her, by reason of putting off Eo, Meo, and Areo; otherwise sure I should get her; for sure she would not refuse a Duke.  Enter Flametta. Flametta. 
Here is the Duke alone, whom I so long  
Have sought for to petition for the repeal  
Of my dear Trappolin. Great Prince, as low  
As truest humility can make a Suitor;  
Before you I prostrate myself; Most excellent  
And merciful Sir, pity a loving Maid,  
Who is bereft of her joys; I beg  
Poor banished Trappolin might be recalled,  
Whom (when your Highness was to Milan gone,)  
Was by those cruel Lords whom you did leave  
Our Governors, sent into banishment.  
Great Duke, you that have noble thoughts, and sure  
A heart full of commiseration,  
Kill me not with a cruel hard denial.  Trap. 
Ah Eo, Meo, and Areo, hinder me! I must counterfeit with her; fair Maiden rise.  Flam. 
O let me kneel (Great Sir) until you say  
My Trappolin shall be repealed.  Trap. 
Rise I say, & we will talk of it; I cannot abide to see any body kneel unless they are in the Church that have legs to stand on: how may I call you Maiden?  Flam. 
So please your Highness, my name is Flametta.  Trap. 
Mrs. Flametta, I say give me your hand, rise without more ado, rise without you mean to say your Beads over; Mrs. Flametta be ruled, good Mrs. Flametta be ruled, would I were hanged i● ever Trappoline come home and you get not up; up I say therefore.  Flam. 
I must be most rude.  Trap. 
Why that's well done Mrs. Flametta: Trappolin for whom you are a petitioner, young Mistress, is banished you say, for what it matters not, tell me what you'll give for his repeal.  Flam. 
Even any thing I have, all that I have.  Trap. 
Are you a Virgin? tell me true, if you are not▪ it is no wonder besworn, it is more wonder by the half if you are, for I think there be not two of your age in the City that be.  Flain. 
May I not prosper in my wishes Sir,  
If I be not a Maid.  Trap. 
And will you give your Maidenhead to have him recalled from banishment?  Flam. 
To him when he comes home, and we are married.  Trap. 
Well said Mistress, But tell me now what will you give me for to have him come home?—  Flam. 
Even any thing I have.  Trap. 
I am a great man, and like them, will not do favours for nothing; will you give me your Shoes?  Flam. 
My Shoes! your Highness' jests.  Trap. 
I swear unto you (Mistress) but I do not, and if you do not give me what I ask (how ridiculous soever it seems to you) Trappolin near comes in Florence again.  Flam. 
I wonder at the Duke, but will obey him;  
Here are my shoes dear Prince.  Trap. 
Well done I say, but I must have your Stockings too off with them therefore without any more arguing.  Flam. 
My Stockings with all my heart to have my Trappolin.  Trap. 
Very well done Mrs Flam. you do very well, give me your gown too; Do not wonder, these will do nothing without it.  Flam. 
Then shall your Highness have it.  Trap. 
I see you love that fellow well, 'tis well done of you, I think he be an honest man, which makes me the willinger to yield to his repeal; I say I must have that Petticoat too, else all this is not worth a rush i'faith.  Flam. 
I think the Duke's mad— And will you give me then your Highness' word?  Trap. 
I will.  Flam. 
I cannot help it, here it is.  Trap. 
I swear unto thee, young Wench, give me thy under Petticoat and thy Smock, and I will give thee my word, and send for him presently to night● this Wench makes me curse Eo, Meo, and Areo.  Flam. 
Most excellent Sir, there is not in the world  
The thing that in my power lies I would  
Deny to do for my dear Trappolin,  
But modesty forbids me to do this.  Trap. 
I shall not have them then?  Flam. 
I beseech your Highness pardon me.  Trap. 
I am very sorry I could not see her naked, but it cannot be helped; well how many kisses will you give me my young Mistress?  Flam. 
Kisses?  
Most Gracious Prince, a thousand and a thousand times.  
I'll kiss your hand upon my humble knees.  Trap. 
I have no pleasure in that: how many kisses upon lips will you give me?  Flam. 
For Trappolins' sake, I'll do any thing that modesty will give me leave; do what you please Sir.  Trap. 
Ah honey sweet Flametta, how I love thee▪ prithee kiss better: dear lips! I could almost wish Eo, M●o, and Areo i'th' fire; again, again, again, sweet Flametta.  Flam. 
Shall Trappolin come home?  Trap. 
Do but let us kiss, and thou shalt have any thing.  
O me! what a misery 'tis to be a great man? again, again Flametta, Trappolin shall come home.  Flam. 
I am weary.  Trap. 
So shall I never be; again, again.  Enter Prudentia. Flam. 
The Princess, your Highness' sister:  
You have gi'en your word.  Trap. 
Young Mistress, I have not leisure to answer you now, come to me some other time, and I'll talk with you further: now take up your things and be gone.  Flam. 
I am assured I shall prevail: heavens guard your Highness.  Exit. Prud. 
Now I expect my brother's rage, for sure  
(Though ne'er so secret kept) my Love unto  
My dearest Horatio by some uncouth means  
Is known: say what he will, or can, I am  
Resolved, and my affection's settled.  Trap. 
Fair Lady, come hither, you are my sister, are you?  Prud. 
I am your sister and servant Sir.  Trap. 
Compliment with me no more than I compliment with you; good Madam sister sit you down, I would talk with you a little.  Prud. 
He talks as though he were distracted. I obey you Sir.  Trap. 
'tis well done, good Lady sister.  Prud. 
I never saw my brother thus before;  
Sir, I am exceeding glad to see you  
Returned in safety out of Lombardy; but should have been more joyful had you brought your Duchess with you.  Trap. 
She'll come soon enough ne'er fear't; but sister, I must be something brief, for I am a hungry; as soon as I came home I saw Brunetto in the Gaol, who after many circumstances and fears, told me 'twas for love of you that he was put there; tell me sister Prudentia, do you love him? I'll besworn the man is a good honest fellow, if you have a mind to him I'll give you my consent with all my heart: I vow as I am an honest man, and the Duke, I do not jest.  Prud. 
Most worthy brother, thanks; I do confess  
I love Brunetto, and were very guilty  
Of cruelty if I did not; for he  
Loves me I know as his own happiness:  
Nor, Sir, have I placed my affections  
Unworthy; Brunetto is a Prince,  
His name is Horatio, and he's second son  
Unto the Duke of Savoy; for my sake  
He changed his name and lives a prisoner.  Trap. 
How's this! is Brunetto a Prince? you love him Lady sister you say.  Prud. 
Most truly Sir I do.  Trap. 
Are you content to marry him?  Pru. 
I do desire no greater bliss on earth,  
So that your Highness will consent thereto.  Trap. 
Lady sister, here is my hand, I am content i'faith, without more words I am.  
● am an hungry now, and would be brief, sister mine I say marry him when you will, beshrew my heart and I be not content;  
I had rather you had him then any man in the world.  Prud. 
I know not what to think, he's strangely changed.  Trap. 
Let this suffice Madam sister; I am very hungry I say, have you any good store of meat in the house? I could eat sound now sister of a dish of Sausages: come Lady sister, le's to dinner, be gone, I have a good stomach as I am an honest man.  Exeunt.  

Scena secunda.  Enter Mattemores. Mat, 
I that have led a life until of late  
In spite of death, passed through the dangers of it  
Dreadless without regard; whom never men  
Conducted by brave Captains to the field,  
Did yet withstand, am won and vanquished:  
Hippolita, heroic Amazon,  
In Love hath conquered me with amorous smiles;  
Methinks it is a thing most full of wonder,  
That what not massy pikes, nor murderous guns  
Could ever do, a Lady's smiling eyes,  
The beauty of a timorous woman should;  
Her eyes have darted fire into my breast,  
Which nothing but her kindness can extinguish,  
And be she cruel I shall soon be ashes.  
Do I thus yield? shall I forget the sound  
Of martial Drums, the warlike noise of Trumpets,  
To listen to the lascivious harmony  
Of instruments touched by Hipolita's hand?  
Shall I forget the ordering of a Camp,  
To ride great horses, to besiege a city,  
To undermine a Castle, to raise Bulwarks,  
All for the love of a fair fearful woman?  
It must be so; these legs that wont to lead  
Armed men to battle, I must use in dances:  
This hair that used to be covered with a helm,  
Cloggy with sweat and blood, I now must powder:  
These hands that wont to wave a dreadful sword,  
Instead of iron gauntlets now must wear  
Perfumed gloves: I that had wont to be  
Under the Surgeon's hands to cure my wounds,  
Must have a barber now to keep me neat:  
O Love! thou art divine, and canst transform  
A man from what he was: it is in vain  
To think to shun the thing thou dost constrain.  Enter Hippolita. Hipol. 


I.  
'tis idleness that is the cause  
We lose our liberties:  
The busy Cupid never draws  
To yield unto his vice.   

2.  
Away with love, it is a thing  
I hope I ne'er shall know;  
When many weep so I shall sing,  
Have joy while they have woe.   

3.  
The happiness of love is poor,  
Compared to liberty;  
Blessed lovers do hard things endure,  
Their pleasures to enjoy.   

4.  
May I live ever as I do  
Free from that foolish pain;  
I wish that no man may me woe,  
Until I love again.    Mat. 
O Heavens, is thus her mind composed! if I  
Can win this Lady, it will be a conquest  
Deserves a Trophy far above my best  
Of Victories, I will go try her: hail  
Glory of Italy, compared to whom  
The famed Egyptian Queen would yield, sweet Lady,  
Most excellent Hippolita vouchsafe  
To hear me tell your conquest and my foil;  
Whom the Great Duke's greatest foes could never vanquish,  
Your powerful beauty hath; know Mattemores,  
(Whose valour Spain not only doth report,  
But Mantoa hath proved your matchless eyes  
Transcendents of the brightest lightest stars)  
Have wounded fatally unto the heart,  
Unless you prove as kind as you are fair.  Hip. 
Do you jest with me Captain?  Mat. 
My heart's delight, sweet centre of my thoughts,  
I vow by your rich beauty, if my heart  
Could speak, it would agree full with my tongue,  
I would tell my lover more than I can express.  Hip. 
What ill fortune, good Signior, you have had,  
To fall in Love with one deserves it not,  
Nor doth not care for you? and I do hope  
I ne'er shall bear affection unto man.  Mat. 
Patience assist me mightily; not all  
The murderous canon bullets I have heard  
Fly buzzing by my ears, nor dismal cries  
Of dying soldiers, nor the horrid noise  
Of rough tempestuous seas have ever moved me,  
Only your harsh unkind reply hath struck  
Unto my very soul.  Hip. 
I cannot help it;  
Had you now, Captain been abroad it'h field,  
This ne'er had happened to you; and to cure you  
The field will be the best; go to the wars,  
Busy yourself in fights, and you will soon  
Forget you ever saw Hippolita.  Mat. 
Most cruel fair one, be assured that ere  
I would forget you (which I knows a thing  
For me impossible to do) I would  
Into oblivion cast my best of pleasures,  
Even all my pleasures, I would forget to use  
My sword, and all the Military science;  
Witness triumphant Son of jove, Great Mars,  
I vow by all the Honours of a soldier  
I love thee dear as mine own heart, but this  
Admirable Lady much above it:  
Nor do I displease thee in't, I know that thou  
Preferd'st the embraces of the Cyprian Queen  
Above the glorious battles of the field.  
Therefore (dear Lady) be most confident  
While I have memory, above all things,  
Your beauty will be fixed in't.  Hip. 
Good Signior,  
Trouble me not to answer you again;  
Let this suffice, I wish you liked me not,  
Because I neither would have you nor any  
To love a woman will not return affection.  Mat. 
O Heavens!  
Will you continue thus obdurate ever?  Hip. 
Always believe it Captain.  Mat. 
I have not patience to contain myself;  
An angry cloud full fraught with thunder bolts  
Worked by the Cyclops on Campagnia's Stithy,  
Now hanging o'er my head, menacing death,  
Presaging speedy sad destruction,  
Could not compel my silence, 'tis decreed  
By my adverse malignant stars that I  
Shall die destroyed by a fair cruel woman;  
Which ere I do, I will a little ease  
My troubled heart of woe: hear merciless woman:  
(Whom I do curse because I love so dearly)  
Hear me, and afterwards go glory that  
Your wondrous beauty, and your savage heart  
Hath made a man distracted, killed a soldier.  Hip. 
A Captain and be thus moved by a woman's refusal!  Mat. 
Sweetest Hippolita, be merciful, and save  
His life that honours you above the world.  Hip. 
Pray you Signior be answered.  Mat. 
You are resolved then to ruin me:  
Cursed be those battels all that I have fought  
And conquered in, 't'had been more honour for me  
To have been slain by my incensed foes  
Which were brave soldiers, then to die in peace  
By the unkindness of a proud fair woman.  Hip. 
Beseech you leave your rage, and leave me Captain.  Mat. 
More cruel than Hyrcanian Tigers, hear  
Me take my leave before I go.  Hip. 
Proceed.  Mat. 
Thou God of love, and if thou art a God  
Revenge thyself and thy wronged deity  
On this unmerciful Lady; make her fall  
In love with the basest of all mankind,  
A man so full of ignorance, that he  
In shape alone may differ from a beast,  
Not know that she is fair and slight her beauty;  
And he himself the most deformed thing  
That ever burdened our mother earth  
With his unworthy steps: Cupid attend,  
And yield unto my just request; make this  
Lady run mad for such a monster, shed  
A thousand thousand tears upon her knees,  
While he stands laughing at her: may you die  
Raging for love, Hippolita as I.  Hip. 
I do begin to pity him; sure I never  
Shall have a man to love me better, and though  
I once intended always to live single,  
His words have altered my resolution:  
Nor, if I take him, shall I do a thing  
Will misbecome me, for he is a man  
High in the Great Duke's favour. Noble Captain,  
It is your happy fate to conquer always;  
I vow unto you by my honour, I think  
Most seriously, no man upon the earth  
Besides you could have won; I'm the last  
Of all your victories, Theseus like you have  
Overcome Hippolita.  Mat. 
And will you love me then?  Hip. 
I do and always will.  Mat. 
Blessed be the stars that shined at my nativity,  
I want words to express my joys; but dearest Lady,  
My sweet Hippolita, my forward actions  
Shall make you know my heart above my tongue;  
I am a soldier, and was never wont  
To speak amorously.  Hip. 
You have said enough.  Mat. 
Love is but thought by words, by deeds 'tis known;  
Show me you love me, and let words alone.  Mat. 
Worthiest of Ladies, when I cease to do  
All that I can, then may your love cease too.  Exeunt.  
Finis actus Tertii.   

Actus Quartus, Scena prima.  
Enter Barbarino & Machavil. Bar. 
HE cannot counterfeit so much.  Mac. 
I know not,  
But if he do not surely he is mad;  
What wild fantastic things he does, and talks  
Of Eo, Meo, and Areo, names  
Unheard i'th' the Court before!  Bar. 
Some Milain Counts  
I warrant you he means by them.  Mac. 
The strangest thing of all is the release  
Of Brunetto, and his extraordinary love unto him,  
Whom he hath caused richly to be clothed.  Bar. 
And useth him as if he were his better.  Enter Horatio. Mac. 
Yonder's the man we talk of; what a change  
We see! A prisoner but lately locked up safe,  
And now to be the wonder of the Court.  Hor. 
Next Eo, Meo, and Areo, the Duke  
Doth swear he loveth me; but who those are  
I cannot tell nor learn: my Lords, good day,  
Saw you his Highness lately?  Bar. 
No sir.  Hora. 
You speak as though you were displeased.  Mac. 
We are not well contented Sir.  Hor. 
The Duke is noble, utter your grievances to him.  Bar. 
So we will Sir.  Enter Trappolin Mac. 
And now Sir,  
Know worthy Prince we are your loyal subjects,  
And what we say is for your honour.  Trap. 
If it be for my honour I'll hear you,  
But be as brief as you will.  Mac. 
Your Highness hath lately released Brunetto.  Trap. 
'tis a thing very certain.  Mac. 
We doubt not but done out of clemency,  
Not knowing why he lay there.  Trap. 
Well, why was he put there?  Mac. 
Even for your Honour sake (most Gracious Sir) The Lady Prudentia your sister loves him.  Trap. 
Say you so? So ho Puchanello, So ho!  Puch. 
Who calls?  (Within.) Bar. 
His Highness; come hither presently.  Trap. 
Bid the guard enter.  Enter Puchanello and the Guard. 
You say Brunetto was put in prison because my sister loved him, you think it good and fitting he were there again.  Bar. 
So please your Highness, yes.  Trap. 
Puchanello take me these two Coxcombly Lords into your Custody; they are never well but when they are banishing some body, or doing some mischief or other: Brunetto was laid in prison because my sister loved him, and lay me these there because I love them.  Mac. 
Beseech your Highness not to deal so hardly  
With us whom you have known so faithful to you.  Trap. 
Puchanello, away with them I say: you of the Guard see them in.  Bar. 
Most worthy Prince be merciful, if we  
Have done amiss 'twas out of ignorance.  Trap. 
Sirrah rogue away with them, or I'll lay up you too.  Puch. 
Your Honours must have patience and walk.  Mach. 
There is no remedy.  Bar. 
The heavens be merciful to Florence;  
What ill malignant star hath so deprived  
Our wise and noble Duke of all his reason,  
That he remembers not who are his friends?  Ex. Hor. 
The Gods be ever most propitious;  
Great Sir, unto you, and continue long  
Your life, chief honour of the Medici's.  Trap. 
Prince Horatio I am your servant, I pray you forgive me my calling of you by your nickname of Brunetto; my sister hath told me you are the Son of the Duke of Savoy, besworn unto you I am very sorry I have not used you as befitted you, but it was your fault that told me not who you were: I have talked with Prudentia, and she loves you she says, which I am glad on, and I'll marry you as soon as you will  Hor. 
Sir, it is true I am Horatio,  
Son of the Piemond Prince; but being his second,  
I durst not think me worthy of such honours  
As your Highness hath do ne me; and therefore told  
None but your beauteous sister who I was.  Trap. 
Enough my friend; and Prince Horatio,  
Could you suppose I would deny my sister,  
Though she were made of Gold and precious stones,  
Unto your Highness, and to such a friend?  
You do deserve a better wife than she;  
She's not half good enough for you, and if  
I had another sister, you should have them both.  
My friend a Prince! I'm very glad i' faith,  
But sorry that I did not know you such,  
That I might have done you right: wood I were hanged  
If you are not far a better man then I.  Hora. 
Great Prince, you do forget yourself.  Trap. 
Your Highness must pardon me, I do remember myself well enough, yet Eo, Meo, and Areo, have made me something proudish, but howsoever I am your servant, Prince Horat. i' faith I am your very dutiful servant: how sa you now, the Duke of Savoys son! i faith I am your poor servant Lavin the Duke of Florence.  Hora. 
I am amazed; he's mad:  
Beseech your Highness leave, I pray you Sir.  Enter Mattemores the Spanish Captain with petitioners. Trap. 
What have we here now, does the Captain bring us Morris-dancers? what lobs are these tro?  Mat. 
So please your Highness, being importuned much these I have brought before you, that you might, do justice.  Trap. 
Captain Mattemores, justice I'll do with all my heart, but execution let do who will for me.  Calfshead. 
Great Duke of Tuscany, vouchsafe to hear me,  
For what I speak is out of conscience;  
This fellow Mr. Bulflesh a Butcher, I saw  
Verily with mine own eyes even yesternight  
(When he was drunk) to kill my man, which he  
Swore was good Beef, and he would sell it dear.  Bulf. 
Sirrah Puritan you are a base scoundrel, was not I drunk in your company to make you merry?  Calves. 
But Mr. Bulflesh, you do know, and that full well, that I prayed you on my knees for your own souls sake to drink no more, and professed to you that it was a great abominable sin in you to fox yourself, or be foxed.  Bulflesh. 
Goodman Calfeshead, you are a base scurvy Companion; do you not know that for your sake I killed your man, (yet I meant but only to beat him sound) because he poured not the wine into your Codpiece? did not I do it out of friendship unto you? did I not you puritan you, and you to complain? O the ingratitude of Puritans!  Trap. 
Peace both of you. Master Puritan hold your tongue I say: will not Calfeshead be drunk Bulflesh?  Bulf. 
So please your Highness no, he will let a man sooner hang him then make him drunk; Besides, he is a fellow of strange opinions, and hath sent his son to Geneva, to hear jack Calvin preach. He stole a Surpless to make his Amorosa a Smock of; and hath writ a paltry Book against the Bishops, printed at Amsterdam in Decimo sexto. He will lie and steal without comparison; is both for Boys as well as Queans when he hath money▪ And like a true Italian Hypocrite, is for any sin or mischief but our Drinking.  Trap. 
Then know I very well how to do justice: Mr. Calfeshead, you say the Butcher killed your man when he was foxed, be you foxed when you will and then kill him for'●▪  Calf. 
Heavens defend, I ne'er was drunk yet, and never will be.  Hora. 
There is mad justice; he doth increase my wonder.  Calves. 
Bless me, murder! I would not do it for the world.  Mat. 
This is strange justice, the Butcher doth very well deserve to be sent into the Galleys at Ligorn.  Trap. 
I have done with you Mr. Puritan, you may be gone to the Tavern; and Bulflesh you may get you to the Shambles as soon as you will, for I have no more to say to either of you.  Exeunt Calfsheead & Bulflesh. 
I am ready for the next; speak therefore.  Barn. 
Most excellent Prince, pity a childless father;  
As yesterday my only Son did walk  
Under an house, this fellow Gaffer Tiler,  
Who was a working on it, did fall down  
Upon my son, and killed him with his fall.  Tiler. 
Mr. Barn be not so eager, you know I bore your son no malice, and that it was a hundred to one I broke not my own neck.  Trap. 
This is an easy matter to conclude;  
Friend Barn, you say this Gaffer Tiler  
Fell off a house, and so did kill your son;  
I will be very upright in my justice,  
Go you upon the house from whence he tumbled,  
(And he shall stand beneath) and fall on him.  Mat. 
And the Duke be not stark mad, I am to think him so.  Barn. 
So I may break my own neck.  Hor. 
He strangely is distracted.  Trap. 
Neighbour Barn, get you about your business, for I have done with you.  Barn. 
I must have patience.  Exeunt Barn and Tiler. Trap. 
Now let me make an end with these, and I have done.  Mrs. Fine. 
Deign, Noble Duke, to hear my just complaint,  
I am a poor and an unfortunate widow;  
This man Dick Whip, as the other day he drove  
His coach, run over a little child of mine  
That was playing in the street, and killed it.  Trap. 
Sirrah Whip, is this true?  Whip. 
So please your Highness I confess it is.  Trap. 
It doth not please me, nor displease me, for I neither did it, nor was the child mine.  Whip. 
It was against my will, a thing of chance, Mrs. Fine cannot deny it.  Trap. 
Mrs. Fine, you are a widow you say?  Mrs. Fine. 
A poor unhappy one I am.  Trap. 
You say that Whip the coachman hath killed your child; and how he did it I have understood.  
This is my justice, I will do you right;  
Whip shall lie with you until he get you another.  Mat. 
Madder and madder.  Hora. 
I cannot choose but smile.  Whip. 
Most willingly, so please your Highness I am well content to do her that satisfaction.  Mrs. Fine. 
You shall be hanged first, that you shall, is thus my expectation failed?  Trap. 
Mrs. Fine be ruled, I will have justice done, Whip shall lie with you; you may marry him and you will: he killed your child, and he shall get you another, I say but right, and Sirrah Whip look unto't, and you play the bungler and fail, you shall to Ligorn and learn to row: Mrs. Fine be contented, and you do not like him you might have held your tongue, for I know no body that sent for you, and so get you both gone.  Whip. 
The Heavens preserve your Highness.  Exeunt. Trap. 
My friend and Prince Horatio, go unto  
My sister, bid her to prepare herself,  
I'll have you married within this day or two;  
I long to see you both in bed together.  Hora. 
Most willingly I will do such a message,  
The Gods preserve you happily.  Exit. Mat. 
A strange discovery if true.  Trap. 
Signior Captain, I say I have done very good justice, and in a little time too, I am not like your scarlet coats that will do nothing without money; a company of fellows they are whose beards and hearts agree not together.  Mat. 
Your Highness doth dispatch things very soon.  Trap. 
Though I am the Duke yet I love to do no hurt, as other men in authority would, I hate to banish men as Machavil and Barb. ha done: alas poor Trappolin, I hear they have banished an honest poor man called Trap. what the Devil Signior Mat. came in their heads to send a poor fellow away out of his country without any money? though men may sometimes gather a reasonable Salad abroad, he shall get no oil to eat it withal.  Mat. 
Great Duke of Tuscany, our noble Master,  
That Trap. of whom your Highness speaks,  
Had little fault in him, (good faith) at all  
Saving he was a most notorious coward.  Trap. 
Why you Don of guns or pikes, do you think every man's mind is given to the wars? Trap. was addicted to the peace, a poor fellow full of courtesies; one that will never deny to do a favour for a friend▪ I will have a little sport with my Don of the wars; O me, Sir Captain, look yonder: Eo, Meo and Areo, I will put you off for a while, I will try some conclusions.  Mat. 
Your Highness! where's the Duke gone I marl;  
What Trappolin, art thou come again?  
Faith many a wench in Florence will be glad;  
Follow thy old trade, be a Pander still.  Trap. 
Signior Captain I am your humble slave, and if I can do you any kindness at any time, i'faith Don Mathemores you shall command me— and if you have but a mind to any Beauty in Florence, pay but me well for my pains, and her well for hers, and I will not fail you; and Captain I can give you a delicate poison to dispatch any enemy with whom you dare not fight.  Mat. 
I see thou art resolved to be a rogue,  
'tis pity that his Highness did repeal thee;  
Next time I see him, sirrah Pimp, I will  
Make suit to have you sent into Ligorn.  Trap. 
You Spanish coxcomb, go hang yourself, do your worst.  Mat. 
Were't thou a soldier I wood fight with thee,  
Being a rogue thou dost deserve my foot;  
Take this you rascal.  Trap. 
I will presently be out of his debt— who's yonder? it is the Duke or I am deceived; Eo, Meo, and Areo, on again, my hat, my glass, and cloak, sit close: how now sirrah Captain, where are your manners? what do you think of me, who am I tro? I am not your Lieutenant am I? stoop and take up your hat, and let me see if it will not become your hand as well as your head in my presence.  Mat. 
I did not see your Highness.  Trap. 
Will you lie too? take that and learn to speak truth.  Kicks him. Mat. 
Most Noble Prince, and my most royal Master,  
Pardon the error which unwillingly  
I have committed; in Tuscany there lives not  
A man that freelier for your sake would lose  
His life then I.  Trap. 
Well, get you gone, I do  
Forgive you; but my Don at arms, remember  
The duke's to be observed, he is the man  
That doth maintain you.  Mat. 
And most worthy Prince,  
Did but occasion show itself, I would  
Venture and lose my life to do you service.  Exit. Trap. 
And my Father Conjurer would come into Florence, I would make him the next man unto my Highness; he is a good man, and it is great pity that he should go to the Devil, as they say Conjurers and Witches do: well, I am a brave fellow, I love to see myself in my glass, I am the Duke i'faith, the very Duke, I see me.  Enter Flametta. Flam. 
I will go and petition him again.  Trap. 
My rogue Flametta, I could kiss her to pieces, by't off her lips, and suck out her eyes I love her so well.  Flam. 
The great Duke of Tuscany the gracious heavens  
Prosper your Highness ever, I am the same  
That lately did entreat for the repeal  
Of my Beloved sweetheart Trappolin:  
Most excellent Sir, pity my earnest suit,  
And let me have my Trappolin recalled.  Trap. 
This is a very precious villain, how she loves me! and I ever marry while I am a Duke by Eo, Meo and Areo's leave I will have her,— your name little maid, is Flametta, as I remember?  Flame▪ 
So please your Highness, yes.  Trap. 
You sue to have banished Trappolin come home?  Flam. 
Most humbly, most excellent Sir, I do.  Trap. 
Well 'tis all as please Eo, Meo and Areo, I can do nothing witho t them, and (my young Mistress) as long as they are in authority, I can do little for you.  Flam. 
Then by your Highness' leave, do I wish Eo, Meo, and Areo in the fire.  Trap. 
Methinks they should be enough in that already, for the Devil made them all; now I think well on't, sometime when I have good opportunity I will off with my things and have a little sport with her: since, fair Maid, you are so earnest for your sweetheart Trappolin, he shall come home very shortly, he shall believe me, but upon condition I will do it.  Flam. 
On any condition except my honour Sir.  Trap. 
That he shall lie with you.  Flam. 
Were we but married, most willingly.  Trap. 
If he gives you his oath to have you, will not that suffice?  Flam. 
I had rather we had married before.  Trap. 
You need not fear, should he swear unto you and break his oath, I would hang him, and yet (though I ne'er mean to break my word with her) I faith I should very hardly hang myself for any thing; the rope is a very dismal thing.  Flam. 
Shall he come home, say the word Noble Prince.  Trap. 
Well on my word he shall▪ as soon as possibly I can, but on that condition that you will accept of him without marriage, upon his oath to have you.  Flam. 
I see his Highness is mad (as every body says) otherwise what should all him to talk thus? most excellent Prince, he and I would not disagree.  Trap. 
Well here is my hand, he shall come home shortly, now I must have a kiss and leave you: I am very hungry, I ha' been so long a doing justice that I am very hungry, give me a buss sweetheart.  Kisses her. Flam. 
Heaven bless your Highness.  Exeunt severally.  

Actus quartus scena secunda.  Enter Lavinio the great Duke, Isabella the Duchess with Attendants. Lau. 
My hearts sweet solace, my dear Isabel  
You are most welcome unto Florence;  
Live according to your wishes happily,  
And may I perish if I do not strive  
In every thing to please you to my power;  
I'm sorry at my coming home I find  
Such strange and unexpected alterations,  
That for to quiet them I must deprive  
Myself some hours of your company.  Isab. 
Most Excellent Sir, I do account myself  
Most highly blest, that am not only married  
Unto a Prince, but one that can  
And doth vouchsafe his love unto me, being  
Defective of those beauties should deserve it.  
To your affairs betake you Worthy Sir,  
I will expect you till your leisure serves.  Lau. 
You are good unto a miracle  
Sweet Isabel— attend the Duchess in;  
Adieu my Love, some few but tedious minutes  
Past over I will come unto you.  Isa. 
I will await your leisure.  Exeunt with Isabel. Lau. 
What mad fantastic humours have possessed  
In general the heads of the Florentines?  
They have amazed me, speak as if I  
Had been with them before my Duchess came.  Barbarino and Machiavil appear in prison. Bar. 
You great commander of the Tuscan Cities,  
Pity your subjects, and your loyal servants;  
In what we sued for we had no design,  
Neither the least intent for to offend.  Mac. 
Be merciful therefore most gracious Prince,  
Let not the noblest of the Florentines  
Wear out their days and thraldom in a Prison,  
Being men not long ago high in your favour.  Lau. 
I am lost within a Labyrinrh of wonders,  
I know not what to think, the chiefest of  
The Florentine Nobility in prison,  
And sue to me as if I had commanded  
Them to this place; sure some ill spirit hath  
Possessed men's minds while I was absent: do you  
Know me?  Bar. 
Your Highness is the Duke our Master.  Lau. 
Are you not called Barb. and you  
Macha. the Lords unto whom I left  
The government of Tusk any in  
My absence?  Mac. 
We are your loyal subjects though your prisoners; and were left your Deputies when your Highness went to Milan.  Lau. 
How came you there?  Bar. 
Great Sir, you know most well,  
At your command.  Lau. 
I must be satisfied in this:  
Puchanello so ho!  Puch. 
Who calls? what's the matter I wonder.  Within. Lau. 
Release me the Lords presently, and send them  
To me hither:  
The more I think of these accidents,  
The more I marvel how they come to pass;  
The men whom I did leave here governor's  
Are prisoners (and which increaseth more  
Amazement in me) they say it was I  
That made them so; some unheard malady  
Unknown unto the world before it seems,  
Hath infected all my subjects with a frenzy.  Enter Barberino and Machiavil. Bar. 
He hath changed his humour it seems.  Mach. 
And may he continue in this if it be a good one.  Lau. 
I am astonished to see the things  
I every minute do, especially  
You two (to whom I left the weighty charge  
Of rule) in prison; resolve me for heaven's sake  
How you came there.  Bar. 
Sure he doth jest with us.  Mac. 
Your Highness is disposed to be merry;  
You know (most excellent Sir,) full well that none except yourself could do it.  Lau. 
I do it?  Barb. 
He doth things in his madness he remembers not when he's in's right senses it seems.  Lau. 
Florence I left a wise ingenious City;  
But I have found it now at my return  
Possessed with a strange unheard of madness:  
Who put you in prison? collect your wits in't order  
And answer wisely.  Mac. 
I vow by the prosperity of Tuscany,  
Your Highness.  Lau. 
Most strange! Why did I so?  Bar. 
Because we did (most gracious Sir) give notice  
Unto you how the Princess Prudentia,  
Your machless beauteous sister loved Brunetto.  Lau. 
Whom? what Brunetto!  Mac. 
Your prisoner taken in the Mantuan wars.  Lau. 
My sister so forget herself! I am  
Full of amazement: she that had refused  
The youthful Dukes of Modena and Parma,  
Dote on a slave slighted by all the stars!  
My sister also so to lose her senses,  
She that was wise, and honoured for her virtues!  
Sure also this same strange infection  
Of madness wood ha' seized upon myself  
If I had stayed at home. I will not now  
So marvel at the common people, seeing  
The most discreet of the Nobility,  
And my own sister equally distracted.  Mac. 
I hope he comes to himself again, he talks something more wisely then of late.  Lau. 
It is a frequent thing to see a City  
Miserably groan under a heavy sickness,  
To have the Plague, or fierce diseases full  
Of danger, rage and even unpopulate places;  
But such a general frenzy to possess  
And to distract all Florence, is a wonder,  
A miracle unmached in history.  Bar. 
How he talks as if all we were mad, and he had done nothing!  Lau. 
Are you sure you are both in your right senses?  Mac. 
Did once your Highness know us so?  Lau. 
Yes.  Bar. 
We are as free from any distraction  
As ever yet we were since we were born.  Lau. 
You must both of you though give me leave to think what I know.  Enter Mattemores. 
I●e try an he be mad too. Cap. these Lords say I put them in prison, how say you?  Mat. 
So your Highness did— he's distracted another way.  Lau. 
Good Gods be merciful. Why?  Mat. 
Because they spoke against Brunetto's liberty.  Lau. 
He's in the same tale;  
Though they are all deprived of their senses,  
They do not differ.  
But why (good Cap.) answer me a little,  
Should I desire Brunetto's freedom, being  
Beloved by my sister as they say?  
Wood it not be a great dishonour, think you,  
Unto the Family of the Medici's,  
That she should cast herself away upon one  
We do neither know whom, or whence he is?  
I pray you Captain, if that yet you have  
Any small remnant of your wit remaining,  
Reply according to it.  Mat. 
And he be grown wise again, Heavens be praised.  
It is a certain truth your Highness speaks,  
That if your sister should bestow herself  
(Being a Princess meriting so much  
For her unequalled beauty, and her virtues)  
Upon a man such as you pleased to mention,  
It would be a great weakness in her; but you  
Yourself I heard (most excellent Sir)  
To call Brunetto Prince Horatio,  
The second Son unto the Duke of Savoy.  Lau. 
How, I call him so! truth Captain you  
Have heard these things which I did never say.  Bar. 
You never heard him call Brunetto so.  Mac. 
Never, this is the first time I ever heard of it.  Lau. 
My wonder is so great, I do want words  
Whereby to give it vent; I see that all  
My subjects being distracted think me mad.  Mat. 
And more, so please your Highness, you did send  
Brunetto, whom you Prince Horatio called,  
Unto your sister, to bid her prepare  
Herself; for you within a day or two  
Would see them married.  Lau. 
Enough,  
Captain, I swear unto you by my Dukedom,  
That rather I would send Brunetto (though  
He were the Duke of Savoys second son)  
To have his head struck off, then on that message  
You say I did.  Mat. 
He doth remember nothing.  Bar. 
If the Duke be come to his right senses again,  
I beseech the Gods keep him so.  Mac. 
And I.  Enter Horatio and Prudentia. Mac. 
Beseech your Highness look, let your own eyes  
Be witness of their mutual affection;  
Behold the Princess your sister and Brunetto:  
Let us withdraw where we may stand unseen,  
And you shall hear them talk what I have said.  Hor. 
Dear Lady, you have raised me to a fortune  
So high, that when I look upon myself  
I am amazed, and wonder at your goodness.  Pru. 
Most noble Prince, let my unfeigned love  
Excuse the weak expressions of my tongue;  
I'm glad my Brother bears so noble a mind,  
As to be willing to unite our bodies  
As we have done our hearts.  Hora. 
Not only willing, divine Prudentia,  
But earnest for us; he doth seem to grieve  
That two such faithful lovers as we are  
Should live so long a sunder.  Prud. 
It is a worthy nature in him.  Lau. 
I can contain myself no longer: though this  
Be out of madness done I will not suffer it.  
Sister!  Prud. 
Live long most worthy Brother happily.  Lau. 
So should I wish for you, bore you a mind  
Deserved yourself.  Prud. 
What mean you Sir?  Hor. 
Good Heavens be kind, and do not now undo  
What you have almost brought unto perfection;  
I fear his m adness that once favoured me;  
Hath changed his mind to my undoing.  Lau. 
I will but spend few words; are you a Son  
Of the Duke of Savoys?  Hora. 
Your Highness knows I am his second.  Lau. 
Whether  
You are or no I care not; and if you be,  
My sister once deserved a better husband,  
And she shall rather in a Monastery  
Spend all her future days than be your wife:  
And be you what you will Sir, I will show you  
That you have wronged me, and I do not fear  
The Duke of Savoy if he be your father.  
Puchanello, Puchanello come hither.  Mac. 
I like this.  Pru. 
He's wonderfully distracted— most worthy Brother,  
Be not so much unmerciful.  Lau. 
Peace Prudentia, I never thought  
You had so weak a reason.  Hor. 
He's mad to my undoing; gracious Gods,  
Soon make him leave this humour.  Bar. 
I hope he's come unto himself.  Enter Pucchanello. Lau. 
Sirrah, convey Brunetto into prison,  
Lock him up close.  Puc. 
Here's do and undo— Will our Duke ne'er be in his  
Right senses again?  Prud. 
My dear Horatio, love me still, for I  
Unto thee will be constant though I die.  Hor. 
Though I be tortured unto death my Dear.  Exeunt with Horatio. Mat. 
I know not what to think of these alterations.  Lau. 
Thus (but the heavens assist) I hope to bring  
Int' order from confusion every thing.  Exeunt Omnes.  
Finis Actus quarti.   

Actus quintus, Scena prima.  
Enter Trappolin solus. Trap. 
THe Duke is come home, and therefore my hardest part is behind; Father Conjurer and you be not my friend now I am undone; Eo, Meo, and Areo sit you all close and lose not a jot of your virtue: happen what will as soon as I meet him his Highness, I will try the virtue of my powder on him, let him take it how he please.  Enter Prudentia. Prud. 
Here is my brother, I will try him, perhaps  
He may have changed his sullen humour now,  
And set the Prince Horatio at liberty.  
Most excellent noble Sir.  Trap. 
My dear sister, how dost thou do? why look you so sad, ha' you got the green sickness to night with lying alone? and you have I will take an order for your cure very shortly, and to your liking too, I'll have you married within these two days at the furthest.  Prud. 
Married Sir! unto whom?  Trap. 
Unto my friend your lover, Prince Horatio▪  Prud. 
I am glad of this: Alas Sir, why then have you  
Made him a close unhappy prisoner?  Trap. 
I see the Duke hath met with him:  
You do deceive yourself Lady sister, indeed  
You do▪ put up my friend in prison? heaven defend.  Prud. 
Sir, pardon me for speaking truth, I heard  
When you commanded it.  Trap. 
Sister mine, if I did I was drunk, and now I am sober I will let him out. Sirrah Pucchanello, so ho.  Prud. 
May he continue always in this vein  
Of kindness; thus his madness is not grievous.  Trap. 
Madam sister, I am very sorry I was such a beast as in my drink to commit such a fault; I pray you forgive me.  Enter Pucchanello. Pucch. 
What is your Highness will?  Trap. 
It is that you set Prince Horatio at liberty, and send him hither presently.  Pucch. 
I wonder— most willingly.  Exit. Prud. 
You are a gracious Prince, and the high Gods  
Will recompense your pity unto lovers.  Trap. 
What a Swine was I do such a thing! I am ashamed as often as I think on't, I shall be ashamed to look on my friend; sister, you must pray him to forgive me.  Trap. 
Sir, trouble not yourself, and be assured,  
Unless you part us, you can never do  
Offence either unto the Prince or me.  Enter Horatio. Hora, 
It seems his mind is changed, the heavens be praised.  Trap. 
Prince Horatio, an you do not forgive me my locking of you in prison, I shall never be merry again; I did it when I was drunk, and my sister knows that as soon as she told me on't, I sent for you; I pray you therefore forgive me good Prince Horatio.  Hora. 
Most excellent Sir, I was a man unworthy  
Of this sweet Lady's love, did I not freely.  Trap. 
I thank you i'faith Prince Horatio with all my heart I swear unto you, here take you my sister, take her by the hand, lead her whether you will, and do what you will unto her with her consent: I am very sorry I parted you so long; I know Lovers would be private, though they do nothing but talk, therefore I will not hinder you: fare you well both my Princely friend and Lady sister.  Prud. 
The Gods preserve you.  Hora. 
And reward your goodness.  Exeunt. Trap. 
Thus what the Duke doth I will undo— such excuses will serve my turn well enough.  Enter Barbarino and Macchavil. 
Here are my Lord banishers, it seems the Duke hath set them at liberty, but in they go again as sure as the cloaks on their backs.  Bar. 
May the good angels that attend upon  
Princes on earth, defend your Highness always  
From every offensive thing.  Macc. 
And may you live  
A long and happy life, enlarge your state,  
Excel in fame the first great Duke.  Trap. 
Your good wishes I like, but credit me my Lord Banishers, neither of you. Who let you out of prison?  Bar. 
He's mad as ere he was— your Highness Sir.  Trap. 
You lie Sir: Pucchanello come hither quickly.  Macc. 
Heavens be merciful, we must in again I see.  
He does and undoes, and remembers nothing.  Enter Pucchanello. Trap. 
Sirrah Rogue, why did you set these two at liberty?  Pucc. 
Your Highness did command it.  Mac. 
If our Duke must be mad, the Gods grant him  
That which he had the last.  Trap. 
You ill-faced rascal you lie.  Pucc. 
Beseech your Highness remember yourself, it  
Was at your command.  Trap. 
It may be so, but I am sure I was drunk then, and now I am sober they shall in again; therefore take them with you, be gone I say.  Barb. 
There is no remedy.  Macc. 
Good gods pity Florence.  Exeunt. Trap. 
Eo, Meo, and Areo, thanks i'faith▪ yet I am supposed the Duke, Father Conjurer, by thy Art I am supposed a Prince; stick to me still and be my friend.  Enter Isabel. 
Here is the Duchess! Eo, Meo, and Areo, be true to me, and I'll have a kiss or two at the least.  Isa. 
Sir you are fortunately met.  Trap. 
Who are you Lady Madam?  Isa. 
Do you not know Sir?  Trap. 
I'd have you tell me.  Isa. 
I never knew him so before, I am your Wife.  Trap. 
I'm glad on't I promise you, come and kiss me then.  Isa. 
You are wondrous merrily disposed.  Trap. 
Madam Duchess I am something jovial indeed, I have been a drinking Montefiascone very hard, kiss me again my dear Lady wife.  Isa. 
He's drunk.  Trap. 
You are a handsome woman I promise you: prithee tell me my Lady Duchess, am I a proper handsome fellow?  Isa. 
Do not jest with me Sir, you know you are  
Him whom above the world I do esteem.  Trap. 
Well said my Lady wife.  Isa. 
I ne'er saw him so distempered before.  Trap. 
Have you nothing yet in your belly?  Isa. 
You know I am with child Sir.  Trap. 
Faith but I do not, for your belly swells not.  Isa. 
I am full of wonder.  Trap. 
Lady wife get you in, I am half drunk, and now am unfit for you, but give me a kiss or two before,— Madam Duchess fare you well.  Isab. 
I had thought he had not been addicted to  
A vice so loathsome as drunkenness.  Exit. Trap. 
Yet all happens very well; protest the Duchess is a gallant woman, I almost like her as well as Flametta; I could lie with her and I wooed, but I am half honest, and will not wrong the Duke nor Flametta. Why is not my wench as good as she? wherein do they differ, but only in clothes? Flametta's a woman as right as she, and perhaps naked as handsome: what good in the night do jewels and fine clothes to a woman when she hath them not on? besworn I am very merry; Eo Meo and Areo are brave tame Devils, and my Father Conjurer an excellent learned fellow.  
Vienca wine, and Milan bread,  
Trivigi tripes, and a Venice wench in bed.  Exit singing.  

Actus quinti scena secunda.  Enter Lavinio. 

YE glorious Planets that do rightly guide  
The giddy ships upon the Ocean waves,  
If some of your malignant influences  
Have raised this madness in my subjects heads,  
Let some of your benign influences,  
Again restore them to their former senses:  
Those Florentines whom all their enemies  
Could not impeach, could not withstand in arms,  
Suffer not, you immortal powers divine,  
Thus to be ruined, by distraction.   Machavil and Barbarino appear in prison. 
I am astonished, O Heavens, I know not what to think!  
Puchanello, Puchanello, let me out the two Lords, and send them to me presently, I'll talk unto 'em here at large.  Bar. 
His ill fit's off.  Mac. 
The goods be praised.  Lau. 
I do not think that since the infancy  
And first creation of the world, a madness  
Pestiferous and equal unto this  
Was ever known; good Heavens reveal (and soon)  
The cause, that I may do my best to help it.  Enter Barbarino, Machavil and Puchanello. Mac. 
Long may this fit continue.  Barb. 
If it hold always, sure he's in's wits again.  Lau. 
I wonder, Lords, and justly, that you whom I have known to have the noblest judgements, should thus become distracted; you in your fits of frenzy run to prison of yourselves,  
And think I sent you.  Bar. 
Most royal Sir, we grieve to see these days;  
You did command us thither.  Lau. 
I?  Mac. 
Your Highness' self.  Lau. 
You are both deceived; to do such idle errors,  
And lay the blame on me doth more amaze me.  
Puchanello how came these in prison?  Puc. 
So please your Highness, you were angry with them  
And did commit them.  Lau. 
I commit them?  
That thou art mad is not so great a wonder;  
I tell you both with sorrow, witness heaven,  
You are strangely bereaved of your reason.  
Well, go ye in, and pray unto the Gods  
That they hereafter would be kind unto you  
And keep you from relapse.  Mac. 
Heavens bless your Highness.  Bar. 
And be unto you a perpetual guard.  Exeunt. Lau. 
Famine, plague, war, the ruinous instruments  
Wherewith the incensed deities do punish  
Weak mankind for misdeeds, had they all fallen  
Upon this city, it had been a thing  
To be lamented but not wondered at.  Enter Isabel. 
O my dear Isabel! I have brought thee  
From Milan flourishing in all delights,  
Into a city full of men distracted.  Isab. 
He is not sober yet. Go in and sleep Sir,  
You do not well thus to bewray your weakness  
Unto the public view.  Lau. 
My wife and all! O heavens!  Isa. 
What say you Sir?  Lau. 
My Isabel, thou hast cause to curse me  
For bringing thee into a place infected:  
The air is sure pestiferous, and I wonder  
Now how I have escaped.  Isab. 
Good Sir, I pray you sleep.  Lau. 
Wherefore my Isabel?  Isab. 
Why you have drunk too much.  Lau. 
Madness unmatched!  
Dear Isabel, withdraw thyself into  
Thy chamber, I will presently come to thee,  
There we will pray unto the angry Gods  
That they would from's remove this heavy ill.  Isab. 
I will obey you Sir to get you home;  
Good Gods ne'er let him thus offend again.  Exit. Lau. 
What have I done so much offensive to  
The supreme powers, that they should punish me  
Not only with the madness of my subjects,  
But the distraction of my wife and sister!  Enter Horatio and Prudentia. 
What do I see? they do embrace and kiss:  
My sister's madness will undo her, how  
He came at liberty I marvel much;  
Whom I would have to lie in prison, walk in freedom, and whom I would have in freedom run of themselves to prison.  Prud. 
Most noble Brother.  Lau. 
Sister, I grieve to see thee thus.  Hora. 
Excellent Prince!  Lau. 
Sure the good Angels that had wont to guard  
The Medici's in all their actions,  
Have for the horrid sins of Florence left us,  
And fled to Heaven.  Hora. 
His mind again is altered.  Pru. 
Dear brother, do not frown and look so angry.  Lau. 
Peace sister, I'm ashamed to hear you speak,  
Each word you say is poison in my ears.  Puchanello, 
Jailor.  Puc. 
I come.  Within. Pru. 
What mean you Sir?  Hor. 
I must again to prison, fickle fortune,  
How soon a happy man thou makest wretched▪  Enter Puchanello. Lau. 
Sirrah, why did you set this man Brunetto,  
Or this Horatio (I know not what to call him,)  
At liberty?  Puc. 
Will he ne'er be wise! your Highness bade me.  Lau. 
ay! Bethink you, and answer truly.  Puc. 
Your Highness knows I durst not for my life  
Ha done't without your licence.  Pru. 
Sweet Brother.  Lau. 
Silence would become you better far.  Hor. 
Life of my heart, do not disturb yourself,  
I am unworthy you should speak for me.  Lau. 
Sirrah, take him again, and look to him better than you have; your madness shall not excuse you, if once more you serve me thus.  Hor. 
I must be patient: good Heavens, soon alter this sullen fit into his former kindness:  
Farewell my sweet Prudentia.  Exeunt with Hora, Pru. 
I wonder Brother, what pleasure you take  
In crossing me after this sort.  Lau. 
It is in vain to answer frantic people.  Pru. 
ay, I am mad, 'tis your perverseness makes me.  Exeunt.  

Scena tertia.  Enter Trappolin solus. Trap. 
YEt I cannot meet with the Duke, I long to see him look like me, I would fain powder his Highness. Eo, Meo and Areo, I thank you faith, my hat, my glass, and cloak; honest Father Conjurer, I will love thee while I live.  Enter Barbarino and Machavil. 
Hel's broke loose again, I do what the Duke undoes, and he undoes what I do.  Mac. 
Long live your Highness.  Trap. 
Amen.  Bar. 
And happily.  Tra. 
Amen I say; but how my small friends came you hither? I thought you had been under lock & key.  Mac. 
I fear he's ill as ere he was.  Trap. 
Sirrah Puchanello, so ho, so ho! come hither you rogue.  Bar. 
We must in again.  Mac. 
Good Gods, will this frenzy never leave him!  Enter Puchanello. Trap. 
Goodman durty-face, why did you not keep me these in prison till I bid you let them out?  Puc. 
So please your Highness so I did.  Trap. 
Dare you lie so boldly? you take me for a Doctor, Gracian of Franckolin I warrant you, or a fool in a play, you're so saucy with me.  Mac. 
Good Gods!  Bar. 
Was ever heard the like?  Puc. 
Beseech your Highness to remember yourself.  Trap. 
Now I bethink myself, perhaps I might do it when I was drunk; if I did bid you give them their liberty it was when I was foxed, and now I am sober lay them up again; walk my good Lord Banishers, your Honours know the way.  Puc. 
Will this humour never leave him?  Bar. 
We must endure it.  Mac. 
There is no remedy.  Trap. 
My Lord Prisoners get you gone, I am an hungry and cannot stand to hear any supplication.  Puc. 
You must obey my Lords.  Exeunt. Trap. 
Yet all goes well, all goes exceeding well;  
My will's obeyed, I am supposed the Duke;  
My hat my glass and cloak retain their force,  
And Father Conjurer does not forsake me.  Exit.  

Scena quarta.  Enter Mattemoros the Spanish Captain solus. Mat. 
THough horrid War, thou bearest a bloody sword,  
And marchest o'er the world in dreadful arms;  
Though fearful mankind on their humble knees,  
Beseech the Gods to keep thee from their homes,  
Yet art thou (when tricked up in dismal robes,  
Presaging death and ruin to a State)  
More lovely to a valiant soldier's eyes,  
Then are the pleasures of a wanton Court.  
And sure if our great Duke Lavinio  
Had been i'th' field expecting of a foe,  
He ne'er had been distracted as he is:  
'Tis peace that doth bewitch us from ourselves,  
Fills most Heroic hearts with amorous toys,  
And makes ●s to forget what honour is;  
But for Hipolita's sake I must not speak  
Any thing ill of Love; Love I must say  
Is good, but war leads the more noble way.  Enter Lavinio. Lau. 
How do you Captain?  Mat. 
I am your Highness' creature.  Lau. 
Saw you not lately Barber▪ or Maccha?  Mat. 
Yes.  Lau. 
Where are they?  Mat. 
Your Highness knows in prison.  Lau. 
O heavens, in prison again! Good gods, when will you remove this frenzy from the Florentines?  Mat. 
I see there is little hope on him.  Lau. 
Why are they in prison?  Mat. 
Because your Highness did command.  Lau. 
Never, Captain, I never did command it; go and bid Pucchanello let them out.  Mat. 
Sir, he dares not at my bidding.  Lau. 
Here take my Ring and do't.  Mat. 
One humour in the morning, and another in the afternoon, will it never be better?  Exit. Lau. 
Would I did know what heinous sin it is  
I have committed that is so offensive  
Unto the Gods to cause this punishment,  
That I might sue unto them for forgiveness,  
And they be reconciled and pity Florence.  
I'm f●ll, and full of wonder; perhaps some fiend,  
Permitted by the heavens, assume's my shape,  
And what I do undoth; was ever known  
Such a distraction in the world before?  Enter Trappolin. Trap. 
At last I have found him.  Lau. 
This the Impostor is that hath deceived  
The eyes of all, it can be nothing else.  Trap. 
I vow and swear I am something afraid, but will be bold; Eo, Meo and Areo, sit close, come out powder, come out, father Conjurer I rely on your powder;  
Take that for my sake.  (Flings it on him.) Lau. 
What rudeness is this?  Trap. 
I have done't i'faith, Trap. I have repealed thee for Flametta's sake.  Lau. 
How is this?  
If thou art a fiend, the gracious heavens be kind,  
And give a period to thy wild proceedings;  
But if thou art a Conjurer, I'll have thee  
Burnt for thy Magic, as thou dost deserve.  Trap. 
Trappolin talk wisely.  Lau. 
Why dost thou call me so?  Trap. 
Aha! A man forget himself so! art thou not he?  Lau. 
I am the Duke.  Trap. 
Beware of treason; do you know your own face if you see't? look here; what say you now?  Lau. 
I am bewiched, thou art a Conjurer,  
And hast transformed me to a banished Rogue.  Trap. 
For Flametta's sake I pardon thee this language, but learn to speak better lest you walk again.  Exit. Lau. 
Heaven, earth and hell, have all agreed together  
To load me with a plague unknown before  
Unto the world: The heavens have given consent  
Unto my misery, hell hath plotted it,  
And the deceived earth believes me mad,  
And now will take me for a banished Rogue.  Enter Flametta. Flam. 
O joy above expression! behold  
My Trap. is come; Love, welcome home;  
Thou art beholding unto me (my Dear)  
'Twas I that won the Duke for thy repeal.  Lau. 
I am amazed.  Flam. 
Give me a hundred kisses; let us spend  
An hour in kissing, afterwards we'll talk.  Lau. 
Away.  Flam. 
Have you forgotten me so soon? I am  
Thy true Flametta (lovely Trap.)  Lau. 
Be gone I say.  Flam. 
Dost thou reward me thus for all the pains  
I've took to get thee home again?  Lau. 
Leave me  
Thou impudent whore, or I will kick thee hence.  Flam. 
O faithless men! Women, by me take heed  
You give no trust unto this perjured sex.  
Have I all thy long banishment been true,  
Refused Lord Barbarino with all his gifts;  
And am I slighted thus? I will complain  
Unto his Highness of thee.  Enter Mattemoros. Lau. 
Have you done't?  Mat. 
What?  Lau. 
Have you let the Lords at liberty?  Mat. 
What's that to thee?  Lau. 
Give me my Ring.  Mat. 
He has heard the Duke sent me with his Ring, and this impudent Rogue dares think to get it. Sirrah, is it not enough to be a Coward and a Pander, but you would be a thief too?  Lau. 
I am bewitched.  Flam. 
I fear my Trappolin is turned mad man.  Lau. 
Suffer not this ye Gods.  Enter Trappolin. Mat. 
I have set the Lords Barbarino and Macc. at liberty according to your Highness' order; and here is your Ring again.  Trap. 
Better and better— I ma●le where the Prince Horatio is.  Mat. 
He forgets every thing, he's in prison.  Trap. 
Sure he is not.  Lau. 
How this Impostor devil acts me!  Mat. 
Your Highness did commit him.  Trap. 
Fie upon't, what things do I do in my drink? here take my Ring, go and set him out, and come hither with him presently.  Lau. 
I am the Duke, and will be obeyed,  
Go not upon your life, he shall lie there.  Flam. 
Sure my Trappolin's run mad for grief in his banishment.  Mat. 
Peace (frantic) peace, do not disturb his Highness.  Trap. 
Regard not mad men, go.  Mat. 
I'm gone.  Exit. Lau. 
Thou traitor.  Fam. 
Dear Trappolin be silent, regard my tears, thou wilt undo thyself.  Trap. 
Maiden and your Sweetheart continue thus, I'll have him sent abroad again.  Enter Prudentia. Flam. 
Sweet Trappolin for my sake hold thy tongue▪  Lau. 
I rage in vain, good heavens be merciful.  Prud. 
Dear brother pity me, regard my sorrow,  
Release the Prince Horatio, and no longer  
Separate their bodies whose hearts the Gods have joined.  Trap. 
Sister, have patience a little, a very little, Prince Horatio will be here presently, and I'll make an end with you.  Lau. 
Prudentia, art thou not ashamed?  Pru. 
What sauciness is this▪  
Most worthy noble Brother all my heart is full o● thanks for you: wood Ide a tongue could utter them.  Enter Mattemores and Horatio. Mat. 
Your Highness' ring.  Trap. 
'tis well: Captain, Sister, and Prince Horatio,  
Here take my signet, by the warrant of it, go  
And get you married,  Hor. 
Our humble thanks.  Lau. 
I do want patience.  Hor. 
'tis best to do it while he's in's good humour:  
Are you content Sweet Princess?  Pru. 
With all my soul I go.  Exeunt. Lau. 
Sister, sister.  Mat. 
Peace lest you be sound punished Sirrah.  Fla. 
Good Trappolin be quiet.  Lau. 
I am the Duke, I am Lavinio;  
This is a fiend of hell or an Impostor.  Mac. 
Will your Highness suffer this?  Trap. 
I pity him, he knows not what he says.  Lau. 
I am bewitched.  Mat. 
I am sure thou art distracted.  Trap. 
A done you had best.  Lau. 
Thou enemy unto our happiness,  
Know the Gods will relent; in time be wise.  Trap. 
There is no remedy, he must go to Puchanello: so ho, Pachanello, so ho.  Puch. 
I come.  Within. Flam. 
There could come no better of it, beseech your Highness pardon him, he's distracted.  Lau. 
You are all distracted, all bewitched.  Enter Puchanello. Trap. 
Sirrah take Trap. and lock him up safe.  Flam. 
You'd take no warning.  Lau. 
O Florence, how I pity thy decay.  Trap. 
Away with him.  Mat. 
Puchanello take him, and be gone.  Trap. 
You of the Guard see him laid safely up.  Lau. 
I will not go.  Puch. 
We than might force you.  Exeunt, Flam. 
Alas poor Flametta! Thy Trappolin cares not for thee, I beseech the Gods to give him his right senses again.  Trap. 
Come Captain.  Mat. 
I attend your Highness.  Exeunt.  

Scena Quinta.  Enter Barbarino and Machiavil. Mach. 
The strange distraction of our Duke will give  
Sufficient matter unto Chronicles  
To make whole volumes of him.  Bar. 
Yet he believes himself right in his senses  
And we out of our wits think him mad.  Lavinio appears in Prison. Lau. 
Wood I had been born to a mean estate,  
So in't I might have lived happily.  
The greater honours that men have, the greater  
Their troubles are; the beggar that hath nothing  
Lives a more quiet life then Monarches do.  
Lord Barbarino▪ and Lord Machavil,  
Get me released, I am the Duke Lavinio,  
Bewitched as you are by an Impostor.  Bar. 
Go Trappolin and sleep: we have heard all l,  
Thou art run mad.  Mac. 
Go sleep poor Trappolin.  Lavin. 
Be kind good Gods, pity our miseries.  Bar. 
Leave talking and go sleep.  Enter Trappolin. Mac. 
His Highness.  Bar. 
How fares our noble master?  Trap. 
I have not been sober a day together this good while; Eo Meo and Areo have made me foxed, but now I will leave it.  Mac. 
Who are they?  Bar. 
I know not.  Trap. 
It's in vain to lay them up any more, I having had sport enough with them. Trappolin whom you banished is come home stark mad.  Mac. 
Exceedingly.  Bar. 
And raves most strangely in prison.  Enter Flametta. Flam. 
Here is his Highness, I will not leave him till  
He doth release from prison Trappolin.  
Most excellent Sir, perfect your noble kindness;  
Give liberty unto poor Trappolin.  Trap. 
With all my heart I would, wood he be quiet.  Flam. 
Alas he is distracted, and doth not know  
What he says; and therefore why should you regard him?  Trap. 
Well, fair maid, for thy sake that lovest him so he shall come out. Puchanello so ho! come hither.  Bar. 
He will do any thing, and undo any thing.  Mac. 
Sure there was never such a Duke i'th' world.  Enter Horatio and Prudentia. Trap. 
Welcome Sister and Brother (I hope I may say,) are you married? are you content? tell me if any thing remains that I can do for you, speak it, for I am ready, the Duke  
Your servant.  Pru. 
Most worthy brother, you have perfected our joys, for we are married.  Pru. 
I am very glad Lady sister that you are so.  Hora. 
Here is your Highness' ring.  Enter Puchanello. Trap. 
You Sirrah of chains and keys set me Trappolin at liberty presently, and send him hither.  Puc. 
Will he never be wise? I wood he wood make another Jailor, I am weary of the place, I can never be at quiet for putting in and setting out.  Flame 
The Heavens reward your goodness.  Ex. Puc. Trap. 
Brother and Prince Horatio, I am something given to be drunk, Eo, Meo and Areo are good fellows: but I pray you pardon me.  Hora. 
Sir, you wrong yourself.  Trap. 
My friend, and Prince Horatio, I'll ne'er wrong myself I warrant you; but you I have, and my sister Prudentia: but it was when I was foxed, and I will never be so again.  Enter Mattemores and Hippolita. Mac. 
I am glad he will once let us be quiet.  Bar: 
I should be very glad if he would continue it.  Trap. 
Ho now Signior Captain▪ ha you got a sweetheart?  Mat. 
A fair Mistress so please your Highness.  Trap. 
I see, my Don at Arms, when you cannot follow the wars of the field, you will of the bed.  Enter Lavinio. Flam. 
Prithee my Trappolin, now hold thy tongue.  
Be wise sweet Love.  Lau. 
Leave me thou frantic fool.  Trap. 
For Flametta's sake I have given you your liberty, use it well.  Lau. 
O Heavens, endure not this impostor thus  
With his enchantments to bewitch our eyes.  Mac. 
Will he suffer him?  Bar. 
Perhaps one mad man will pity another.  Lau. 
Ye Florentines, I am Lavinio,  
I am the Tuscan Duke, this an enchanter,  
That by his magic Art has raised all  
These strange chimaeras in my Court.  Mat. 
Your Highness is too patient, it were more fit he raved in Prison.  Flam. 
Sweet Trappolin be ruled.  Trap. 
Hold your tongue I say.  Hor. 
Poor Trappolin, art thou distracted too?  Lau. 
You Lords of Florence, wise Machavil, and  
You Lord Barbarino, will you never come  
Out of this frenzy? Valiant Mattemores,  
I am the Duke, I am Lavinio:  
This whom you do suppose is me, is some  
Hellish Magician that hath bewitched us all.  Trap. 
He will not be ruled: Puchanello take him again▪  Flam. 
Beseech your Highness: Trappolin, come away.  Prud. 
Was ever seen the like?  Lau. 
Ah my poor subjects! how I pity you,  
That must obey the monstrous wickedness  
Of one that works by Necromantic means,  
And is forsaken by the blessed Gods!  Trap. 
Away with him.  Enter Mag. Mag. 
Stay.  Trap. 
yond's Father Conjurer.  Bar. 
What new accident is this!  Trap. 
I hope he'll do no hurt.  Hora. 
What will the event be (marvel?)  Mat. 
What old Long-beard's this?  Mag. 
A word with you,  
Will you, if I clear every thing,  
Pardon what's past?  Lau. 
Do you know me then?  Mag. 
You are the Duke.  Trap. 
Father Conjurer, do no hurt, and I'll give you a hundred pistols to buy you salads and oil it'h wood.  Mag. 
I'll talk with you even now;  
Will you promise me?  Lau. 
I swear by all the honours of my state,  
By both my Dukedoms, Florence and Sienna,  
I will forgive what ever's past.  Mag. 
Him and all?  Lau. 
Him and all.  Trap. 
Good Father Conjurer, remember your son.  Mac. 
What will come of this?  Mag. 
Be not affrighted.  Mat. 
Never, not I  Mag. 
What ere you see,  
Fear not, nothing shall hurt you.  Prud. 
This is a Conjurer.  Hip. 
Sweet Captain stand close by me.  Bar. 
What strange events are these!  Mag. 
Eo, Meo, and Areo, appear.  Trap. 
I am undone I fear.  
Father Conjurer, remember your son, I'll give you two hundred pistols.  Mag. 
Appear I say.  Enter Eo, Meo, and Areo.. Prud. 
Alas!  Hor. 
Fear nothing.  Hipo. 
Oh me!  Mat. 
Be bold, I am here Hippolita.  Mag. 
Go take the hat, the glass, and cloak from him.  Trap. 
Ah me! Ah me! here, here, here, here, come not too near me.  
Eo, Meo, and Areo, farewel all on you; Father Conjurer has undone me.  Bar. 
Trappolin.  Mac. 
Two Trappolins.  Flam. 
I know not which is mine.  Mag. 
Attend a while.  
Thus with the waste of this enchanted wand  
I do release your Highness.  Mat. 
The Duke.  Hor. 
Wonders.  Mag. 
You have engaged your word, y'ave pardoned all, me who have done and undone every thing, and him, and every body.  Lau. 
I have.  Mac. 
The Heavens be praised; long live your Highness.  Omnes. 
Long live the Duke.  Hor. 
What will become of me?  Mag. 
I'll perfect every thing;  
Brave Prince Horatio, your elder Brother,  
Prince Filberto is dead. Sir, you cannot,  
With reason dislike this match, they are  
Married, and your consent doth perfect it.  Lau. 
Now I am assured he is a Turin Prince▪  
Heir to the Dukedom of Savoy, I am glad  
They are espoused: sister I wish you joy;  
Sir, I entreat forgiveness for what's past.  Hor. 
All's forgotten.  Prud. 
Thanks gracious Heavens.  Lau. 
I'll have your wedding solemnised with state.  Mac. 
I am glad this Gordian knot's untied.  Trap. 
I shall be hanged Father Conjurer.  Mag. 
The Duke hath pardoned you and me all.  Trap. 
Then let Eo, Meo, and Areo go to the Devil from whence they came. Flametta, I am thine.  Flam. 
Ah my dear Trappolin!  Trap. 
Here is your Highness' ring.  Mag. 
From henceforth I abjure my wicked art.  Hor. 
I for thy love to me will send thee into  
Piemondt, and give thee an Earldom in Vercelly.  Trap. 
The Heavens reward you: you know I always made much of your Highness' Majesty. Flathou shalt be a Countess.  Mag. 
Son Trappolin, I am thy natural father, twenty years since banished ten years from Florence: through my misfortune I have served the Turk in his Galleys.  Trap. 
By your leave Father you have served the Devil too I'm sure: for you are one of the best Conjurers in the world. Welcome unto the Court, your son of Honour, and to Flametta's Earlship: will your Honours forgive me too?  Mac. 
Yes.  Enter Isabel. Bar. 
For the Prince's sake I do.  Trap. 
I thank you both: now all's well again, henceforth I will live honestly and be the Devil's Butcher no longer.  Lau. 
My Isabel welcome; every thing  
That did molest our happiness in Florence  
Is took away, now we will spend our time  
In Courtly joys; our famous Tuscan Poets  
Shall study amorous Comedies and Masks,  
To entertain my beauteous Millaness:  
I have a story full of ridiculous wonders,  
Within to tell thee at our better leisure.  Trap. 
The weaker side must yield unto the stronger,  
And Trappolin's supposed a Prince no longer.  Exeunt omnes.  
Finis actus quinti & ultimi.   

The Prologue.  

LAdies and Gentlemen, you that now may  
Approve (or if you please) condemn our Play,  
We thank you first; for here it was not writ  
In sweet repose and fluencies of wit;  
But far remote, at Rome begun, half made  
At Naples, at Paris the conclusion had.  
Yet the perfection is behind, which (if  
You give's a Plaudite) you in England give;  
Our Nation's courteous unto strangers, nor  
Should you refrain unto this Traveller.  
I must not sue; there's nothing now remains,  
Saving the Guerdon of our Poet's pains:  
He for himself is careless, only would,  
That for the Actors sakes you'd say 'tis good.  
We are doubtful yet, your hands will set all right;  
Do what you please, and (Gentlemen) Good night.   
FINIS.