A GRIEF ON THE DEATH OF PRINCE HENRY.  
EXPRESSED IN A BROKEN Elegy, According to the nature of such a sorrow.  
BY CYRIL TOURNEUR.  
LONDON Printed for WILLIAM WELBIE. 1613.   

To the Reader.  
I Cannot blame thee, if thou readest not right,  
Or understandest not; for I know thy sight,  
With weeping is imperfect, if not blind,  
And sorrow does (almost) distract thy mind.  
C. T.   

TO MY NOBLE MASTER Mr. GEORGE CARRY.  
SIR;  
It was a season for Elegies of this kind, when I wrote this; before HIS Funerals. I had no purpose (then) to have it published. Importunity hath (since) drawn it from me. But my first intent of Dedication is not altered. It cannot; unless I could change myself. And (besides the subscription of my duty to you) you deserve to be acknowledged in this Argument; among HIS true Mourners: for you honoured HIM, much and faithfully. For which, no less then for any other part of your generous disposition, I am and will be  
Your Servant CYRIL TOURNEUR.   

A GRIEF ON THE DEATH OF PRINCE HENRY, EXPRESsed in a broken Elegy, according to the nature of such a sorrow.  
GOod Virtue wipe thine eyes. Look up and see!  
And wonder to behold it. Some there be,  
That weep not; but are strangely merry, dance,  
And revel. Can the loss of HIM advance  
The heart of any man to such a mirth?  
Can HIS grave be the womb, from whence the birth  
Of pleasure riseth? Pity them. Their woe  
Distracts'em, and they know not what they do.  
Yet note'em better. Be they wicked men,  
Their show of joy is voluntary then.  
For now the Precedent of virtue's dead,  
Vice hopes to get her courses licensed.  
Dead! 'tis above my knowledge how we live  
To speak it. Is there any Faith to give  
The promises of health or remedy?  
Or any Mean to be preserved by;  
When Temperance, and Exercise of breath,  
(Those best Physicians) could not keep from death,  
The strength of Nature? Was HE temperate? whence  
(Then) came HE subject to the violence  
Of sickness? Rather was HE not inclined  
To pleasures? Infinitely; still HIS mind  
Was on them; Infinitely; For HIS love  
No Objects had, but those which were above  
The causes of vexation; such, as done,  
Repent not the pleasures they begun,  
But made them endless: Nothing had the might  
To dis-effect his Actions of delight.  
No; nor HIS sufferings. For although HE knew,  
That sickness came from earth to claim her due;  
And to deprive HIM of that fortunate  
Succession to the greatness of the State,  
Which HE was borne to; that did likewise please,  
And added nothing unto HIS disease.  
Of HIS contentments here, that was the best.  
Therefore the last; that it might crown the rest.  
But these are not the pleasures that decay  
The body. How hath death (then) found a way  
To ONE so able? HE was young and strong.  
Unguilty ' of all disorder could wrong  
HIS Constitution. Do no longer hide  
It▪ 'twas to us a plague whereof HE died.  
A plague by much more common to us, than  
The last great sickness. Many more the men  
Who suffer in it. That which now is gone,  
Was but the Figure, of a greater One  
To follow. Since the first that e'er was borne;  
A fuller number was not known to mourn.  
For all the old Men of the Kingdoms weep,  
Since HE that promised by HIS strength to keep  
Their children free from others violence;  
And by example from their own offence;  
Is taken from'em. And they would have died  
When HE did, but for tarrying to provide  
A second care for that they would have left  
To HIM, of whose protection theyare bereft.  
If we do well consider their just woes;  
We must include our young men too, in those:  
And grieve for ever: For our old men's tears,  
Are rather for the time to come, then theirs.  
If they that shall not am to suffer much  
Under this cause of sorrow, utter such  
A passion for it; more it does belong  
To us that now are growing to it; young;  
As if our generations had intent,  
We should be borne to feel the punishment.  
Now let us willingly give grief regard;  
Lest we be forced to do it afterward,  
By heaven's just anger. Stay a little. Why  
Should young men think the old shall sooner die?  
HIS youths great broken promise we complain.  
Yet none was greater. And are ours less vain?  
Mistake not. As Humanity now goes;  
HE lived a Man as long as any does.  
For (only) in those Minutes that we give  
To Virtue, we are Truly said to live  
Men, and no longer. If we reckon then,  
HIS good hours, with the good of other Men;  
HIS Times whole added numbers will arise,  
To his, that tells out fourscore ere he dies▪  
To prove this, look as low as ere you can;  
And hear the words of the dejected Man;  
The Soldier speaks them. Honour! Now I see,  
There is no hope that any Age will be  
So good and noble as the ancient were.  
None so Heroic ever shall appear.  
For if that Fate, (which cannot be withstood)  
Had not decreed, there should be none so good;  
She would not have neglected such a worth  
As HIS was, to have brought that great work forth.  
But having purposed it should never be;  
And hearing every where by Fame, that HE  
Was making one; she killed HIM.— Mark his eye;  
He weeps. He weeps; that can more easily  
Weep Blood then Water. Then I wonder, how  
Or He, or any other Soldier, now,  
Can hold his sword unbroken; since HE was,  
That gave them Countenance. That's the Cause (alas)  
They do not break them; and a just excuse.  
They wear them now, to keep them from abuse.  
For that great favour now has made an end;  
That their despised conditions did defend.  
Arts too, are so discouraged by their harms;  
In loss of HIM, who loved both them and Arms;  
That they would all leave study and decline  
From Learning; if those Natural and Divine  
Persuading Contemplations, did not lead  
The One to Heaven; the other to the dead;  
(Between whose parts, they have divided HIS;)  
And promise, so, to bring them where HE is.  
But I would have their studies never die;  
For preservation of HIS Memory.  
How can that perish? That will ever keep;  
Because th'impression of it is so deep.  
When any Painter to the life, that saw  
HIS presence fully, takes in hand to draw  
An Alexander, or a Caesar; ' his best  
Imaginations will be so possess't  
With HIS Remembrance, that as HE does limb,  
he'll make that Worthy's picture like to HIM.  
And then 'twill be a Piece of such a Grace,  
For Height and Sweetness; as that only Face  
Will make another Painter, that ne'er knew  
HIM living, follow as the other drew.  
How great a Character deserves HE then,  
Whose Memory shall but expire with men?  
When a Divine, or Poet sets down right,  
What other Princes should be▪ He shall write  
What THIS was▪ That's HIS Character, which bears  
My sorrow inward, to go forth in tears.  
Yet some of joy too, mixed with those of Grief;  
That flow from apprehension of relief.  
I see HIS spirit turned into a star;  
Whose influence makes that HIS own Virtues are  
Succeeded justly; otherwise, the worst,  
As at HIS Funeral should proceed the first.  
HIS Native goodness, follows in HIS Room;  
Else good Men would be buried in HIS Tomb.  
O! suffer this to be a faithful verse;  
To live for ever, weeping o'er HIS Hearse.  
CYRIL TOURNEUR.   

ON THE REPRESENTATION OF THE Prince at his Funerals.  
HE that the Life of this Face ever saw;  
The Mildness in it noting, and the Awe:  
Will judge that Peace did either in her Love,  
So soon advance HIM to her State above;  
Or else in Fear that HE would War prefer,  
Concluded with HIM, HE should Live with Her.  
To Both, HIS aptness fluently appears,  
In every soldiers grief, and Scholars tears.  
C. T.   

On the Succession.  
THE State of England hath been oft oppressed,  
By many great pretenders. Few possessed  
The kingdoms title safely, but when One  
Descended, and inherited alone.  
Prince HENRY saw his brother CHARLES was younger,  
Therefore in Love (because He might live longer;)  
Gave way: and for the Kingdoms strengthening,  
HE left but one SON to succeed the KING.  
C. T.