THE POEMS OF RICHARD CORBET, LATE BISHOP OF OXFORD AND OF NORWICH. . THE FOURTH EDITION, With considerable Additions. TO WHICH ARE NOW ADDED, "ORATIO IN FUNUS HENRICI PRINCIPIS," FROM ASHMOLE'S MUSEUM, Biographical Notes, and a Life of the Author, BY OCTAVIUS GILCHRIST, F.S.A. London : PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, AND ORME, PATERNOSTER-ROW. 1807. Invidebam devio ac solo loco Opes camocnarum tegi : At nunc frequeutes, atque claros, nee procul, Quum floreas inter viros. E. TAYLOR, and Co. Shoe Lane. TO x MY FRIEND THOMAS BLORE, ESQ. THIS VOLUME, UNDERTAKEN AT HIS SUGGESTION, AND PROMOTED BY HIS ASSISTANCE, IS INSCRIBED BY *'>" ' ' THE EDITOR. M736100 THE LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. THE public interest has been of late years so strongly manifested in favour of the poets of the seventeenth century, that little apology appears necessary for the republication of the following Poems. It would, however, be equally vain and foolish in the editor to claim for the author a place among the higher class of poets, or to exalt his due praise by depre- ciating the merits of his contemporaries. Claiming only for Caesar what to Caasar is due, it may without arrogance be presumed that these pages \\ill not be found inferior to the poems of others which have been fortunately VI republislied, or familiarised to the generality of readers through the popular medium of selections. THE author of the following poems (an account of whose life may be considered as a necessary appendage to these pages) is said to have descended from the antient family of the Corbets in Shropshire. It were too labo- x rious and pedantic in a work of this nature to trace his pedigree, but I should be pleased to find any proofs of their attachment to him : yet as the bishop did not usually " conceal his love," I suspect he received no mark of their regard, at least till his elevation con- ferred rather than received obligation by ac- knowledgment. Richard Corbet, successively bishop of Ox- ford and Norwich, was born at the village of 'Ewell" in Surrey, in the year 1582: he was the only son of Bennet, or Benedicta, and Vincent Corbet, who, from causes which I have not discovered, assumed the name of Poyntcr. His father, a man of some emi- nence for his skill in gardening, and who is celebrated by Ben Jonson in an elegy * alike 1 An EPITAPH on Master VINCENT CORBET. I have my piety too, which, could It vent itself but as it would, Would say as much as both have done Before me here, the friend and son : For I both lost a friend and father, Of him whose bones this grave doth gather : Dear Vincent Corbet, who so long Had wrestled with diseases strong, That though they did possess each limb, * Yet he broke them, ere they could him, With the just canon of his life ; A life that knew nor noise nor strife : But was by sweetning so his will, All order and composure still. His mind as pure, and neatly kept As were his nourseries, and swept vin honourable to the. subject, the poet, and the friend, for his many amiable virtues, resided So of uncleanness or offence, That never came ill odour thence ! And add his actions unto jhese, They were as specious as his trees. 'T is true, he could not reprehend, His very manners taught t' amend, They were so even, grave, and holy 7 No stubbornness so stiff, nor folly To licence ever was so light, As twice to trespass in his sight ; His looks would so correct it, when It chid the vice, yet not the men. Much from him, I profess, I won, And more, much mere, I should have done r But that I understood him scant : Now I conceive him by my want ; And pray, who shail my sorrows read, That they tor me their tears will shed : For truly, since he left to be, I feel I'm rather "dead than he. Reader, whose life and name did e'er become An epitaph, deserv'd a tomb : Nor wants it here through penury or sloth, Who makes the one, so it be first, makes both. JON SON'S Underwoods* IX at Whitton, a hamlet in the parish of Twick- enham, where the poet passed his declining days. Under the will of his father 3 he inhe- rited sundry freehold lands and tenements lying in St. Augustine's parish, Watling- street, London, and five hundred pounds in money, which was directed to be paid him by Bennet, the father's wife and sole executrix, upon liis attaining the age of twenty-five years. After receiving the rudiments of edu- cation at Westminster School, he entered in Lent term 1597-8 at Broadgate Hall, and the year following was admitted a student of Christ-Church College, Oxford. In 1605 he proceeded Master of Arts, and became cele- brated as a wit and a poet. 4 Reg. Prerog. Court Cant. Parker* 49. Vincent Corbet left his copyholds in Twickenham and Thistleworth (or .Isleworth) to his wife, and legacies to various others. See page 118. The following early specimen of liis humour is preserved in a collection of " Mery Passages and Jeastes," Harl. MS. No. 6395 : " Ben Jonson was at a tavern, and in comes bishop Corbet (but not so then) into the next room. Ben Jonson calls for a quart of raw wine, and gives it to the tapster. * Sirrah ! ' says he, c carry this to the gentleman in the next chamber, and tell him I sacrifice my service to him.' The fellow did, and in those terms. * Friend ! "* says bishop Corbet, c I thank him for his love ; but pr'ythee tell him from me that he is mistaken, for sacrifices are always burnt.'" In 1612, upon the death of the amiable and accomplished Henry Prince of Wales, " The expectancy and rose of the fair state," and the theme of many a verse; the Uni- versity, overwhelmed with grief, more espe- Xl cially as he had been a student of Magdalen College under the tutorage of Mr. John Wilkinson, (" afterwards the unworthy pre- sident of that house,") and desirous of testi- fying their respect for his memory, deputed Corbet, then one of the proctors, to pronounce a funeral oration ; " who," to use the words of Antony Wood, " very oratorically speeched it in St. Maries church, before a numerous auditory 3 ." On the 13th [of March in the following year he performed a similar cere- mony in the Divinity School on the interment of sir Thomas Bodfcy, the munificent founder of the library known by his name. Amid the religious dissensions at this pe- riod, encouraged and increased by James's suspected inclination to popery, it was scarcely 3 Wood's Annals of Oxford, vol. ii, p. 312. ed. Gutck 4to. 1796. possible to avoid giving offence to the sup- porters of the various doctrinal opinions which in this confusion of faiths divided the people. At the head of the Church \vas Dr. George Abbott, a bigoted and captious Puritan : op- posed to this disciple of Calvin was Laud, then growing into fame, who boldly supported the opinions of Arminius. With the latter Corbet coincided : but the undisguised publi- cation of his faith had nearly proved fatal to his future prospects; for, " preaching the Pas- sion sermon at Christ- Church, (1613,) he in- sisted on the article of Christ's descending into hell, and therein grated upon Calvin's manifest perverting of the true sense and meaning of it : for which, says Heylyn, he was so rattled up by the Repetitioner, (Dr. Robert Abbott, brother of the archbishop,) that if he had not been a man of a very great courage, it might xiii liave made him afraid of staying in the Unl* versity. This, it was generally conceived, was not done without the archbishop's setting on ; but the best was, adds Heylyn, that none sunk under the burthen of these oppressions, if (like the camomile) they ,did not rise the higher by it*." When James, in 1605 5 , visited Oxford in his summer prpgress, the wits of the sister University vented their raillery at the enter- tainment given to the royal visitor*. Cam- bridge, which had long solicited the same * Heylyn's Life of Archbishop Laud, p. 68. fol. 1668. s See a curious account of the proceedings on this occa* sion by an eye witness, in Leyland's Collectanea, vol. ii. 626. ed. Hearne, 1770. 6 One of the ballads written on this occasion is (through the kindness of my friend John Dovaston, esq.) in a ma- nuscript in my possession, beginning, To Oxenford our king is gone Wkh all his noble peers. &c. XIV honour, was in the year 1614-5 indulged with his presence. Many students from Ox- ford witnessed the ceremonial of his recep- tion ; and the local histories of the two Uni- versities at that period, are replete with pas- quinades and ballads sufficiently descriptive of their mutual animosities. An eye-witness declares, " Though I endured a great deal of penance by the way for this little pleasure, yet I would not have missed it, for that I see thereby the partiality of both sides the Cam- bridge men pleasing and applauding them- selves in all, and the Oxford men as fast con- demning and detracting all that was done; wherein yet I commended Corbet's modesty, whilst he was there ; who being seriously dealt withal by some friends to say what he thought, answered, that he had left his malice and judgment at home, and came there only XV to commend 7 ." Notwithstanding this conci- liatory declaration, the opportunity of retort- ing upon the first assailants was too tempting to Corbet's wit to be slighted ; and immedi- ately upon his return he composed the ballad, page 13, "To the tune of Bonny Nell." This humorous narrative excited several re- plies ; the most curious of which was the one, in Latin and English, (at page 24,) written, perhaps, by sir Thomas Lake, afterwards secretary of state, who performed the part of Trico in the Cambridge play of Ignoramus, and who had a ring bequeathed him by the author,. Ruggles 8 . Corbet appears, says Headley 8 , to have 7 Miscellaneous State Papers, vol.i. 394. 4to. 1778. 8 A William Lake, who was A#. A. and a fellow of Glare Hall in 1619, had also a ring bequeathed him by Ruggles, and might have been the author. See Hawkins's edition of Ignoramus. Utrum horum mavis accipe. 9 Biographical Sketches, vol. i. p. 38. xvi been of that poetical party who, by inviting Ben Jorison to come to Oxford, rescued him from the arms of a sister University, who has long treated the Muses with indignity, and turned a hostile and disheartening eye cm those who have added most celebrity to her name 1 . We do not find that Ben expressed any 1 Spencer, whose college disappointments forced him from the University. Milton is reported to have received corporal punishment there. Drydett has left a testimony, in a prologue spoken at Oxford, much against his own University. The incivility, not to give it a harsher appel- lation, which Gray met with, is well known. That Alma Mater has not remitted her wonted illiberality, is to be fairly presumed from a passage in her late most poetical son, Mr. Mason : Science there Sat musing; and to those that loved the lore Pointed, with mystic wand, to truths involved In geometric symbols, scorning those Perchance too much, who woo'd the thriftless Muse. English Gardenv XVH regret at the change of his situation : compa- nions whose minds and pursuits were similar to his own, are not always to be found in the gross atmosphere of the muddy Cam, though easily met with on the more genial banks of the Isis : Largior hie carapos aether. In 1616 he was recommended by the Con- vocation as a proper person to be elected to the college which Dr. Matthew Surtclyve, dean of Exeter, had lately erected at Chelsea, for maintaining polemical Divines to be em- ployed in opposing the doctrines of Papists and Sectaries. Whether he obtained his elec- tion I have not learned : nor is it of much mo- ment ; for the establishment, as might be na- turally foreseen from the circumstances of the times, soon declined from its original purpose*. * See Lysons's Environs, vol.ii. p. 148 ^t seq. ft Being now in a situation to iirliil^e his in- clinations, he in 1618 made a trip to France, from whence he wrote an " epistle to sir Thomas Aylcsbury," in which he gently laughs at his friend's astronomical fondness ; and composed a metdcal description of his journey, from which we may conclude that he returned less disgusted with his native country, and less enamoured of the manners and habits of his new acquaintance, than is usual with the modern visitors of our trans- marine neighbours. He was now in holy orders ; and, in the language of Antony Wood, " became a quaint preacher, and therefore much 'fol- lowed by ingenious men." None of Corbet's sermons are, I believe, in existence : the mo- desty that withheld his poems from the press, during his life, prevented his adding to the XIX multitude of devotional discourses with which the country was at this period infested 3 . Those who are at all acquainted with the ecclesiastical oratory of James's reign, will be at no loss to comprehend " honest Antony's" description ; but to those who are not, it may be sufficient to observe, that, of its peculiar ex- cellencies and demerits, the sermons of bishop King, his contemporary, (which have been re- published) are a complete " picture in little." 3 The forwardness of the clergy to publish their labours is thus ludicrously satyrized by Robert Burton : ' Had I written divinitie positively, there be so many bookes in that kinde, so many commentators, treatises, pamphlets, sermons, expositions, that whole te^ms of oxen cannot draw them : and had I beene as forward and ambitious as some others, I might haply have printed a sermon at Paules Crosse, a sermon in Saint Maries Oxon, a sermon in Christ-Church, or a sermon before the Right Honour- able, Right Reverend, a sermon before the Right Wor- shipful, a sermon in Latin, in English, a sermon with a name, without, a sermon, a sermpnj &c." Anatomy of Melancholy, p. 15. fol 1G32. XX About this time he appears, from the fol- lowing characteristic letter 4 , to have solicited promotion at the hands of Villiers duke of Buckingham : " May it please your Grace " To consider my two great losses this weeke : one in respect of his Majesty to whom I was to preach ; the other in respect of my patron whom I was to visit. Yf this bee not the way to repare the later of my losses, .1 feare I am in danger to bee utterly undon. To press too neere a greate man is a mean- ness ; to be put by, and to stand too far off, is the way to be forgotten : so Ecclesiasticus. In which mediocrity, could I hitt it, would I live and dy, my lord. I would neather press neere, nor stand far off; choosing ra- * Harl. MSS. No. 7000. Cabala, p. 220. fol. 1663. XXI ther the name of an ill courtier than a sawsy scholer. " I am your Grace's most humble servant, Christ's Church, RlCHARD CORBET." this 26 Feb. " Heer are newes, my noble lord, about us, that, in the point f alledgeance now in hand, all the Papists are exceeding orthodox ; the only recusants are the Puritans." Of the nature of the object thus supplicated, my inquiries have not informed me : he was now dean of Christ-Church, vicar of Cas- sington near Woodstock in Oxfordshire, and prebendary of Bedminster secunda in the church of Sarum : it was, perhaps, the ap- pointment of chaplain to the King, which he received about this time ; and if to this pe- riod may be assigned the gratulatory poem at page 83, it should seem that Buckingham was not solicited in vain. XXII In 1619 he sustained a f dislike." Ibid. p. 639. XXV111 but before the passing of the Marriage Act, nothing is more uncertain than the probable place of the celebration of that ceremony 9 . In this dearth of fact as to dates, I shall presume to suppose he married about 1625 Alice the only daughter of his fellow-collegian Dr. Leonard Hutton, a man of some eminence in his day as a divine and an antiquary, and whose character is thus drawn by Antony Wood with a felicity that rarely accompanies his pencil : "His younger years were beau- tified with all kind of polite learning, his middle with ingenuity and judgment, and his reverend years with great wisdom in go- vernment, having been often subdean of his college." 9 Although the register of Flore, the residence of Dr. Hutton, was preserved from an early date during the life- time of Brydges, an early one is not now to be found. That of Christ-Church, Oxford, is not so old as the death of the bishop : his name is not found in that of Twickenham. XXIX This union of wit and beauty was not looked upon with indifference, nor was their epithalamium unsung, or the string touched by the hand of an unskilful master : Come, all ye Muses, and rejoyce At this your nursling's happy choyce; Come, Flora, strew the bridemaid's bed, And with a garland crown her head ; Or, if thy flowers be to seek, Come gather roses at her cheek. Come, Hymen, light thy torches, let Thy bed with tapers be beset, And if there be no fire by, Come light thy taper at her eye : In that bright eye there dwells a starre, And wise-men by it guided are Io . The offspring of this marriage were a daughter named Alice, and a son born the 10th of November, 1627, towards whom the beautiful poem at page 150 is an undecaying monument of paternal affection. Of these descendants of the bishop I lament ! Wit Restored, 8vo. 1658. XXX (hat I have discovered so lltile : if this volume should be fortunate enough to excite attention to its author, the loss may at some future pe- riod be supplied : they were both living when their grandmother, Anne Hutton, made her will in 1642, and the son administered to the testament in 1648. In 1628 Corbet suffered a severe privation in the loss of his patron Villicrs duke of Buck- ingham, assassinated by Felton on the 23d of August, who, whatever were his political crimes, was, like his amiable and indulgent master, a liberal promoter of literature and science, and to his death an encourager of Corbet's studies. If, however, this event checked his hopes of promotion for a season, it did not leave him without a patron ; for, upon the translation of Hewson to the see of Durham, (to make way for Dr. Duppa to be XXXI dean of that church,) he was elected bishop of Oxford the SOih of July, was consecrated at Lambeth the 19th of October, and installed the 3d of November, 1629; "though," in the opinion of Wood, " in some respects un- worthy of such an office 1 ." Warned by the many petulant remarks on the poetical character scattered throughout the account of Oxford writers, one is little surprised at this churlish remark on the part of honest Antony, who seems to have consi- dered all poetry as .... inopes rerum, nugxque canorae, and its indulgence inconsistent with the cle- rical profession. Corbet was certainly no " precisian," and perhaps his only fault was possessing a species of talent to which Antony had no pretension. 1 Athenae Oxon. vol. i. col. 736. XXX11 The bishopric of Oxford he held but a short time, being translated to a more active see, that of Norwich, in the month of April 1632; when a dispute arose as to his right of claim to the glebe sown previous to his vacating the vicarage : the opinion of the attorney-general, (Noy,) which is preserved in the Harleian collection of manuscripts % was in his favour, in as much as the translation was not his own act merely. On the 9th of March, 1633, he preached before the king at Newmarket 3 . 2 Harl. Catalogue, 464. fol. 3. He appears to have con- ceded a portion of the patronage attending his elevation, as in the Museum is *' Carta Ricardi Corbet episcopi Nor- wicensis, qua concedit Gecrgio Abbot, archiepiscopo Can- tuariensi, proximam advocationem, nominationem, pras- sentationem, liberam dispositionem, et jus patronatus archidiaconatus Norfolcias, dat. 15 Maii, an. 8 R. Caroli I." Harl. MSS. No. 464. Fol. 3. 3 Strafford State Papers and Dispatches, vol. i. p. 221. folio. XXX111 Scarcely was lie sealed in the episcopal chair of Norwich when Abbott died, and Laud, who* had long exercised the authority of metropolitan, was two days afterwards (August 6th, 1633) preferred to the see of Canterbury. Having now " no rival near his throne," in the warmth of his zeal he im- mediately applied himself to reform abuses and exact a conformity to the established church, the discipline of which had exceed- ingly relaxed during the ascendancy of his calvinistic predecessor. For this purpose Laud issued certain orders and instructions to the several bishops, insisting upon a strict examination into the state of religion and its ceremonies in their several dioceses ; the result of which was transmitted to that prelate, and by him laid before the King. These repre- sentations, many of which are curious, are c XXX IT printed in the nineteenth volume of Rymer's Foedera. On his part, Corbet certified that he had suppressed the lectures of some fac- tious men, and particularly that he had sus- pended one Bridges, curate of St. George's parish, Norwich; but, upon submission, lie v a had taken oft' his suspension. Among others, he had heard complaint of Mr. Ward 4 , of Ipswich, for words in some sermons of his, for which he was called before the High Com- mission. From the following conciliating epistle I conclude that Ward submitted, and was re- stored to his cure : * He was author of a curious sermon, printed in 1627, 4to. under the title of " Woe to Drunkards," which was republished with king James's Counterblast, and other philippics against tobacco and eojf'ee, 4to. 1672. Upon the intrusion of the Book of Sports, Ward told his congregation that " the Church of England was ready to ring changes on religion, and that the Gospel stood on tip-toe ready to be gone." For these words he was suspended. XXXV " Salutem in Christo. " My wort-hie friend, " I thank God for your conformitie, and you for your acknowledgment : stand up- rjght to the church wherein you live ; be true of heart to her governours ; think well of her significant ceremonyes ; and be you assured I shall never displace you of that room which, I have given you in my affection ; proove you a good tenant in my hart, and noe mi- nister in my diocese hath a better landlord. Farewell ! God Almightie blesse you with your whole congregation. " From your faithful friend to serve you in Christ Jesus, "RlCH. NOJRWICH*." Ludham Hall, the 6 of Oct. 1633. s Harl. MS. No. 464. fol. 13. xxxvi The zeal of Laud did not rest here : he set sedulously about suppressing the Dutch and Walloon congregations, of which there were several in London, Norwich, and other places. It will be perhaps necessary to observe, that the Dutch, the Walloons, and the French, who had continued to refuge in England from the reign of Edward the Sixth, had obtained many privileges from former kings, and among others, the liberty of celebrating divine ser- vice after their own, that is, the presbyterian, manner. Their congregations were scattered over the kingdom ; and at this period there was at Norwich one of the Dutch, and one of the Walloons, the latter of which carried on an extensive manufacture of woollen cloths, for the vending of which, they in 1564 ob- tained a lease of the chapel of St. Mary the Less, which they fitted up as a hall or mar- XXXV11 ket-place for that purpose. Where they per- formed divine service before the year 1619 I know not, but in that year Samuel Harsnet licensed the Walloon congregation to use during his pleasure the Bishop's chapel, or chapel of the Yirgin Mary 6 . This indul- gence was continued during the government of his successor, Francis White. But the intolerance of Laud would be content with nothing short of conformity ; Corbet conse- quently prepared to dislodge them by the following characteristic letter : " To the. minister and elders of the French church, in Norwich, these : " Salutem in Christo. " You have promised me from time to time to restore my stolen bell, and to glaze my let* * Blomefield's History of Norfolk, vol. ii. p. 522. fol. xxxvm > tice windows. After three yeeres consultation (bysides other pollution) I see nothing mended. Your discipline, I know, care not much for a consecrated place, and anye other roome in Norwiche that hath but bredth and length may serve your turne as well as the ehappel : wherefore I say unto you, without a miracle, Lazare, prodiforas ! Depart, and hire some other place for your irregular meetings : you shall have time to provide for yourselves be- twixte this and Whitsontide. And that you may not think I mean to deale with you as Felix' dyd with St. Paul, that is, make you afraid, to get money,' I shall keepe my word with you, which you did not with me, and as neer as I can be like you in nothinge. " Written by me^ Richard Norwich, with myne own hand, Dec. 26, anno 1634." The congregation remonstrated to Laud, in XXXIX the February following, against the commands of their poetical pastor ; but the archbishop insisted that his instructions should stand, and obedience be yielded to his injunctions 7 . While, under the direction of the Arch- bishop, he was thus severe with the heterodox, he was equally zealous in supporting the esta- blishment of which he was a dignitary : exertions were now-making by the King, the Clergy, and indeed all orders of people, for the restoring Saint Paul's cathedral, which had remained in ruins since its second destruction by fire, early in Elizabeth's reign. In 1631 7 Notwithstanding these harsh measures, which origi- nated with Laud for, to the praise of our amiable prelate, he had not a grain of persecution in his disposition "the Walloon company in 1637 having undertaken to repayre and make fit the church of Little St. Maryes to be used for God's worship by the said congregation, and also to repayre the yard on the northside, had a lease for forty years. Which lease hath been renewed, and now it is the church of the French congregation." Blomefield's Hi-, story of Norfolk, vol. ii. 57. fol. 1739. xl a special commission was issued by the King, for the purpose of collecting money, to be applied to this purpose. The subscription went on tardily till Laud contributed a hun- dred pounds, to be renewed annually, and " Corbet bishop of Norwich (then almoner to the king) giving four hundred pounds, multitudes of others, says Stowe, for eleven years together brought in their monies very plentifully 8 ." Nor did his liberality stop here : Wood says that in addition to this contribution, which at the time we speak of 8 Strype's edition of Stowe's Survey, book iii. page 151. edit. fol. 1720. Perhaps his fellow-collegian Cartwright intended an im- mediate compliment to Corbet in the following lines : Two sacred things were thought, by judging souls, Beyond the kingdom's power, Christ-Church and Pauls, Till by a light from heaven shewn the one Did gain his second renovation. Poems, 188, 8vo. .1651, 9 Ath. Oxon. vol, i. p. 601. edit. 1721. Jdi was an enormous bounty, he gave money to many needy ministers, thereby to excite the donations of their wealthier brethren ; and he pronounced the following admonitory, per- suasive and satirical address l to the clergy of his diocese : " Saint Paul's church ! One word in the behalf of Saint Paul ; he hath spoken many in ours : he hath raised our inward temples. Let us help to requite him in his outward. We admire commonly those things which are oldest and greatest : old monuments, and high buildings, do affect us above measure : and what is the reason? Because what is oldest cometh nearest God for antiquity : and what is greatest, comes nearest his works for spaciousness and magnitude : so that in ho- 1 Harl. MS. No. 750. Malcolm's Londinum Redi- yivum, vol. iii. p. 80. It occurs, aUo, with some dif^ ference, in Mus. Ashm. No. 1153. xlii nouring these we honour God, whom old and great do seem to imitate. Should I commend Paul's to you for the age, it were worth your thought and admiration. A thousand years, though it should fall now, were a pretty climacterical. See the bigness, and your eye never yet bebeld such a goodly object. It's worth the reparation, thougli it were but for aland mark; but, beloved, it is a church, and consecrated to God. From Charles to Ethelbert she hath been the joy of princes. It was once dedicated to Diana (at least some part of it) ; but the idolatry lasted not long. And see a mystery in the changer Saint Paul confuting twice the idol, there in person, where the cry was, c Great is Diana of the Ephesians !' and here by proxy. Paul in- stalled, where Diana is thrust out. It did magnify the creation, it was taken out of the xliii darkness : light is not the clearer for it, but stronger and more wonderful: and it doth beautify this church, because it was taken from pollution. The' stones are not the more durable, but the happier for it. It is worthy the standing for the age, the time since it was built, and for the structure, so stately an edifice is it : it is worthy to stand for a me- morial of it from which it is redeemed, but chiefly for his house that dwells therein. We are bound to do it, for the service sake that is done in it. Are we not beholden to it, every man, either to the body, or the choir : for a walk or a warbling note : for a prayer or a tho- rough-path ? Some way or other, there is a topick may make room for your benevolence. " It hath twice suffered Martyrdom : and both by fire, in'the time of Henry the Sixth and the third of Elizabeth. Xlit " Saint Paul complained of Stoning twiee ; his church of firing : stoning she wants, in- deed, and a good stoning would repair her. " Saint Faith holds her up, I confess. Oh that works were sainted to keep her upright ! The first way of building churches was by ways of benevolence ; but then there needed no petition : men came on so fast that they were commanded to be kept back, but repair- ing now, needs petition. Benevolence was a fire once had need to be quenched : it is a spark, now and needs blowing on it : blow it hard, and put it out. Some petitions there are, for pulling down of such an isle, or changing lead for thack : so far from repa- ration, that our suit is to demolish. If to deny this be persecution, if to repair churches be innovation, I '11 be of that religion too. " I remember a tale in Henry Steevens, in xlv his Apology for Herodotus, or in some of the Colloquies of Erasmus, which would have us believe that times were so depraved in popery, that all oeconomical discipline was lost by observing the oecumenical ; that if an ingeni- ous person would ask his father's blessing, he must get a dispensation and have a licence from the bishop. " Believe me when I match this tale with another. Since Christmas I was sued to (and I have it under the hands of the minister and (he whole parish) that I would give way to the adorning of the church within and with- out, to build a stone wall about the church- yard which till now had but a hedge. I took it for a flout at first, but it proved a suit indeed ; they durst not mend a fault of forty years, without a licence. Churchwardens, though they say it not, yet I doubt me most xlvi of them think it, that foal spirits in the Gospel said, c O thou Bishop or Chancellor, what ! art thou come to torment us before the time, that all is come down to the ground :' The truth went out once in this phrase : 6 Zelus domus tuae exedit ossa mea,' but now vice versa, it is, c Zelus meus exedit domum tuam.' I hope I gall none here. " Should Christ say that to us now which he said once to the Jews, ' Destroy this temple, and in three days I will build it up again :' we would quickly know his meaning not to be the material temple. Three years can scarce promoove three foot. 66 1 am verily persuaded, were it not for the pulpit and the pews, (I do not now mean the altar and the font for the two sacraments, but for the, pulpit and the stools as you call them :) manv churches had been down that stand. xlvii Stately pews are now become tabernacles, with rings and curtains to them. There wants nothing but beds to hear the word of God on ; we have casements, locks and keys, and cushions ; I had almost said, bolsters and pillows : and for those we lore the church. I will not guess what is done within them, who sits, stands, or lies asleep, at prayers, communion, &c., but this I dare say, they are either to hide some vice or to proclaim one ; to hide disorder, or proclaim pride. " In all other contributions justice precedes charity. For the King, or for poor, as you are rated you must give and pay. It is not so in benevolence. Here Charity rates herself ; her gift is arbitrary, and her law is the con- science. He that stays till I persuade him, gives not all his own money : I give half that have procured it. He that comes persuaded gives his own ; but takes off more than he xlviii brought, God paying use for nothing. But now comes your turn to speak, or God in you by your hands : for so he useth to speak many times by the hands of Moses and Aaron, and by the hands of Esay and Ezekiel, and by the hands of you his minor prophets. Now prosper, O Lord ! the works' of thestf hands ! O prosper Thou our handy work ! Amen." He was not fated, however, to witness the elevation of the temple in favour of which he was thus active and benevolent; indeed he was then consuming with lingering disorders. " Corbet, bishop of Norwich," says the gar- rulous correspondent of lord Strafford, " is dying ; the best poet of all the bishops in England. He hath incurable diseases upon him, and hath been said to be dead 1 ." This was written on the 30th of July, 1635, and * Reg. Prerog, Court Cant. 97. Sadler. xlix he- had rested from his labours two days pre- ceding. He was buried in the cathedral church of his diocese, where a large stone was laid over his remains, to which a brass plate was affixed, bearing his arms and the following inscription : Ricardus Corbet, Theologiae Doctor, Ecclesiae Cathedralis Christi Oxoniensis Primum Alumnus, deinde Decanus, exinde Episcopus, illinc hue translatus, et Ilinc in coelurn Jul. 28. An. 1635. By his will "he commits and commends the nurture and maintenance of his son and daughter to the faythful and loving care of his mother-in-law Anne Hutton ; " from which, and the total silence as to his wife, I con- clude he outlived her and with a legacy of one thousand pounds to his daughter Alice, to be paid at her attaining the age of seven- d 1 teen, or upon her marriage, lie enjoins her not to marry without the consent of her grand- . mother. By the further provisions of his testament, his son was to be joined with Anne Hutton in the administration upon his attain- ing the age of seventeen ; and in case of the decease of both, the whole was to devolve upon his daughter Alice. Such was the end of this learned and inge- nious prelate and poet, of whose works I have undertaken the revision, and in collecting the scattered memorials for whose biography, et etiam disjecta membra poetae, I have, I hope not unprofitably to myself or others, employed some leisure hours. His person, if we may rely upon a fine por- trait of him in the hall of Christ-Church, Ox- ford, was dignified, and his frame above the li common size : one of his companions * says he had A face that might heaven to affection draw : and Aubrey says, he had heard that " he had an admirable grave and venerable aspect." In no record of his life is there the slightest trace of malevolence or tyranny : " he was," says Fuller 8 , " of a courteous carnage, and no destructive nature to any who offended him, counting himself plentifully repaired with a jest upon him." Benevolent, generous and spirited in his public character ; sincere, ami- able, and affectionate in private life ; correct, eloquent, and ingenious as a poet ; he appears to have deserved and enjoyed through life the patronage and friendship of the great, and the applause and estimation of the good. 9 Corner sal, in an epistle to Bart en Holiday. See his poems, p. 7. edit. 1633. a Fuller's Worthies, page 83. fol. 1662. lii .Apology is not necessary for his writings, or it might be urged that they were not in- tended for publication by their author. " His merits are disclosed/' and, at the distance of near a century and a half, are now again submitted to the censure of the public. His panegyric is liberal without grossness, and complimentary without servility : his sa- tires on the Puritans, a pestilent race which Corbet fortunately did not live to see ascend- ant, and which soon after his decease sunk literature and the arts in " the Serbonian bog" of ignorance and fanaticism, evince his skill in severe and ludicrous reproof; and the addresses to his son and his parents, while they are proofs of his filial and parental re- gard, bear testimony to his command over the finer feelings. But the predominant fa- culty of his mind was wit ? which he employed liii with most success when directed ironically : of this the address " to the Ghost of Wis- dome," and " the Distracted Puritane," are memorable examples. Indeed he was unable to overcome his talent for humour, even when circumstance and character concurred to re- press its indulgence. Of this propensity the following anecdotes, copied verlatim from Aubrey's MSS. in Mus. Ashmole 4 , are cu- rious proofs, and may not improperly close this account of a character which they tend forcibly to illustrate. " After he was doctor of divinity, he sang ballads at the Crosse at Abingdon ; on a mar- ket-day he and some of his comrades were at the taverne by the Crosse, (which, by the way, was then the finest of England ; I re- member it when I was a freshman ; it was 4'Headlev, i. 38. liv admirable curious Gothicque architecture, and fine figures in the nitches ; ' twas one of those built by king for his queen.) The ballad-singer complayned he had no custome he could not put off his ballads. The jolly Doctor puts oft* his gowne, and puts on the ballad-singer's leathern jacket, and being a handsome man, and a rare full voice, he presently vended a great many, and had a great audience. " After the death of Dr. Goodwin, he was made deane of Christ- Church. He had a good interest with great men, as you may finde in his poems ; and that with the then great favourite the duke of Bucks, his excel- lent wit ever 'twas of recommendation to him. I have forgot the story ; but at the same time Dr. Fell thought to have carried it, Dr. Corbet put a pretty trick on him to let him take a journey to London for it, when he had alreadie the graunt of it. " His conversation was extreme pleasant. Dr. Stubbins was one of his cronies ; he was a jolly fat doctor, and a very good house- keeper. As Dr. Corbet and he were riding in Lob-lane in wet weather, ( 't is an extra- ordinary deepe dirty lane,) the coach fell, and Corbet said, that Dr. S. was up to the elbows in mud, and he was up to the elbows in Stubbins. A. D. 1628, he was made bishop of Ox- ford ; and I have heard that he had an ad- mirable grave and venerable aspect. " One time as he was confirming, the coun- try people pressing in to see the ceremonie, said he, Beare off" there ! or I'll confirm ye with my staffe.' Another time, being to lay Uis hand on the head of a man very bald, he Ivi f urns to his chaplaine, and said, c Some" dust, Lushington,' to keepe his hand from slip- ping. There was a man with ar great vene- rable beard ; said the bishop, c You, behind- the beard !' "His chaplaine, Dr. Lushington, was a very learned and ingenious man, and they loved one another. The Bishop would sometimes take the key of the wine-cellar, and he and his chaplaine would go and lock themselves in and be merry; then first he layes down his episcopal hood, * There layes the doc- tor ; ' then he putts off his gowne, ' There layes the bishop;' then 'twas, 'Here's to thee, Corbet;' c Here's to thee, Lushing* One word on the subject of the former edi- iiors; which bear dates 1647, 1648, and Ivii 1672. The first and last impressions cor- respond in their contents, and the publisher of the latter has also copied, for the most part, the errors of his predecessor, which are so numerous as to render the poems not un- frequently unintelligible. I must observe, however, from the information of Mr. Park, that many copies of the first edition conclude at page 53. The additions extend the vo- lume to 85 pages. The pnly impression with any pretension to accuracy is that of 1648, which, from its internal evidence, I suspect was published under the eye of the Bishop's family ; I have therefore retained the Pre- face. It contains only twenty-four poems. An edition bearing the date of 1663 is cited in Willis's Cathedrals; but, it is believed, through mistake. lix CONTENTS. [ Additions to the farmer Impressions of Corbet's Poems re distinguished by an Asterisk, thus : *] Page * LIFE of the Author v Preface to the Edition of 1048 Ixiii * Commendatory Poems Ixv An Elegie on Dr. Ravis 3 * Thomae Coriato de Odcombe 9 To Thomas Coryate .' 11 A certaine Poem, &c. to the tune of "Bonny Nell" 13 * An Answer to the former Song, &c 22 * Responsio, 8cc 25 * Additamenta superior! Cantico 42 On the Lady Arabella Stuart 43 Ix Upon Mistriss Mallet j an unhandsome gen- tlewoman who made love unto him . . 47 In quendam Anniversariorum Scriptorem . 52 An Answer to the same, by Dr. Price. ... 54 In Poetam exauctoratum et emeritum 56 On Francis Beaumont, then newly dead . . 58 An Elegie on the late Lord William Howard of Effingham 59 To the Lord Mordaunt, upon his returne from the North 66 To the Prince 82 i A Newe- Years Gift to my Lorde Duke of Buckingham 83 A Letter to Sir Thomas Aylesbury 85 Dr. Corbet's Journey into France 94 An Exhortation to Mr. John Hamon 103 An Elegie upon the Death of Queen Anne 112 An Elegie upon the Death of hrs owne Father 118 An Elegie upon the Death of the Lady Had- din^ton 12$ Ixi On the Christ-Church Play at Woodstock .131 A Letter to the Duke of Buckingham, being . with the Prince in Spaine 134 On the Earle of Dorset's Death 142 To the Newe-born Prince 146 On the Birth of the young Prince Charles . 148 To his Son Vincent Corbet 149 An Epitaph on Dr. Donne, Dean of Pauls . 152 * Certain few Woordes spoken concerninge one Benet Corbett after her decease ... 154 Iter Boreale 156 On Mr. Rice, theManciple of Christ- Church in Oxford 205 On Henry Boilings 2O6 On John Dawson, Butler of Christ-Church 207 On Great Tom of Christ-Church 209 R.C 212 A proper new Ballad, entituled The Faeryes Farewell 213 t * A Non Sequitur 218 Ixii * Nonsence 220 * The Country Life 222 To the Ghost of Robert Wisdome ....... 228 An Epitaph on Thomas Jonce 230 To the Ladies of the New Dresse 232 * The Ladies' Answer 233 * Corbet's Reply , 234 On Fairford Windows 235 * Another on the same 23p The Distracted Puritane 243 * Oratio in Funus Henrici Principis 249 * In Obitum Domini Thomae Bodleii . . . 260 Ixiii TO THE READER. (From Edition 1648.) READER, I IIEERE offer to view a collection of cerfaine peices of poetry, which hwejlowne from hand to hand, these many yeares, in private papers, but Were never Jixed for the pullique eie of the worlde to looke upon, till now *. If that witt which runnes in every veyne of them seeme somewhat out of fashion, because tis neither amorous nor obscene, thou must remember that the author, although scarse a Divine when many of them were written, had not only so masculine but even so modest a witt also, that he would lett nothing * From hence it should seem that the edition 1647 was not published at the time this preface was written. Ixiv fall from his pen but what he himselfe might owne, and never blush, when he was a bishop ; little imagining the age would ever come, when his calling should prove more out of fashion than his witt could. As concerning any thing else to be added in commendation of the author, I shall never thinke of it ; for as for those men who did knowe him, or ever heard of him, they need none of my good opinion : and as for those who knew film not^ and never so much as heard, of him, I am sure he needs none of theirs. Farewell. COMMENDATORY POEMS. TO THE DEANE, (From Flower in Northamptonshire, 1625,) NOW THE WORTHY BISHOP OF NOllWICH. BY ROBERT GOMERSALL 1 . STILL to be silent, or to write in prose, Were alike sloth, 'such as I leave to those Who either want the grace of wit, or have Untoward arguments : like him that gave 1 Robert Gomersall was entered of Christ-Church, Oi- ford, in 1614, at the age of fourteen, where, in 1621, he proceeded M. A. In 1625 he took refuge from the plague at Flore in Northamptonshire, of which the editor of the Biographia Dramatica erroneously supposed he was rector. He was afterwards vicar of Thorncombe in Devonshire, and died in 1646. His poems, which are rather easy than correct, were published with Lodwick Sforza, a tragedy, in 1633 and 1638, from which the above epistle is tran- scribed. e* Ixviii Life to the flea, or who without a guest Would prove that famine was the only feast ; Self tyrants, who their braines doubly torment, Both for their matter and their ornament. If these do stutter sometimes, and confesse That they are tired, we could expect no lesse. But when my matter is prepared and fit, When nothing 's wanting but an equal wit, I need no Muse's help to ayde me on, Since that my subject is my Helicon. And such are you : O give me leave, dear sir, (He that is thankful is no flatterer,) To speak full truth : Wherever I find worth, I shew I have it if I set it forth : You read yourself in these ', here you may see A ruder draft of Corbet's infancy. For I professe, if ever I had thought Needed not blush if publish'd, were there ought Which was call'd mine durst beare a critic's view, I was the instrument, but the author you. ixl; I need not tell you of our health, which here Must be presum'd, nor yet shall our good cheare Swell up my paper, as it has done me, Or as the Mayor's feast does Stowe's History : Without an early bell to make us rise, Health calls us up and novelty ; oirr eyes Have divers objects still on the same ground, As if the Earth had each night walk'd her round To bring her best things hither : 't is a place Not more the pride of shires then the disgrace, Which I 'de not leave, had I my Dean to boot, For the large offers of the cloven-foot Unto our Saviour, but you not being here >Tis to me, though a rare one, but a shire ; A place of good earth, if compared with worse, Which hath a lesser part in Adam's curse : Or, for to draw a simile from the High'st, Tis like unto salvation without Christ, A fairly situate prison : When again Shall I enjoy that friendship, and that braine ? kx When shall I once more hear, in a few words, What all the learning of past times affords ? Austin epitoraiz'd, and him that can To make him clear contract Tertullian. But I detain you from them : Sir, adieu ! You read their works, but let me study you. Ixxi OK DR. CORBET'S MARRIAGE. (.From " Wit Restored," 8vo. 1658.) COMI all yee Muses and rejoice At your Apolloe's happy choice ; Phcebus has conquer'd Cupid's charme ; Fair Daphne flys into his arm. If Daphne be a tree, then mark, Apollo is become the barke. If Daphne be a branch of bay, He weares her for a crowne to-day : O happy bridegroom ! which dost wed Thyself unto a virgin's bed. Let thy love burne with hot desire. She lacks no oil to feed the fire. Ixxii You know not poore Pigmalion's lot, Nor have you a mere idol got. You no Ixion, you no proud Juno makes embrace a cloud. Looke how pure Diana's skin Appeares as it is shadow'd in A chrystal streame; or look what grace Shines in fair Venus' lovely face, Whilst she Adonis courts and woos ; Such beauties, yea and more than those, Sparkle in her ; see but her soul, And you will judge those beauties fouL Her rarest beauty is within, She's fairest where she is not seen ; Now her perfection's character You have approv'd, and chosen her. O precious ! she at this wedding The jewel weares the marriage ring. Her understanding's deep : like the Venetian duke, you wed the sea; Ixxiii A sea deep, bottomless, profound, And which none but yourself may sound. Blind Cupid shot not this love-dart ; Your reason chose, and not your heart ; You knew her little, and when her Apron was but a muckender, When that same coral which doth deck Her lips she wore about her neck : You courted her, you woo'd her, not Out of a window, she was got And born your wife ; it may be said Her cradle was her marriage-bed. The ring, too, was layd up for it Untill her finger was growne fit : You once gave her to play withal A babie, and I hope you shall This day your ancient gift renew, So she will do the same for you : In virgin wax imprint, upon Her breast, your own impression ; Ixxiv X You may (there is no treason in't) Coine sterling, now you have a mint. You are now stronger than before, Your side hath in it one ribb more. Before she was akin to me Only in soul and amity ; But now we are, since shee >s your bride, In soul and body both allyde : 'Tis this has made me less to do a And I in one can honour two. This match a riddle may be styled, Two mothers now have but one child ; Yet need we not a Solomon, Each mother here enjoyes her own. Many there are I know have tried To make her their own lovely bride But it is Alexander's lot To cut in twaine the Gordian knot r Claudia, to prov^ that she was chast, Tyed but a girdle to her wast. Ixxv And drew a ship to Rome by land : But now the world may understand Here is a Claudia too ; fair bride, Thy spotlesse innocence is tried ; None but thy girdle could have led Our Corbet to a marriage bed. Come, all ye Muses, and rejoice At this your nurslings happy choice : Come, Flora, strew the bridemaid's bed, And with a garland crowne her head ; Or if thy flowers be to seek, Come gather roses at her cheek. Come, Hymen, light thy torches, let Thy bed"with tapers be beset, And if there be no fire by, Come light thy taper at her eye ; In that bright eye there dwells a starre, And wise men by it guided are. In those delicious eyes there be Two little balls of ivory : Ixxvi How happy is he then that may With these two dainty balls goe play. Let not a teare drop from that eye, Unlesse for very joy to cry. O let your joy continue ! may A whole age be your wedding-day ! O happy virgin ! is it true That your deare spouse embraceth you ? Then you from heaven are not farre, But sure in Abraham's bosom are. Come, all ye Muses, and rejoyce At your Apollo's happy choice. Ixxvii VERSES IN HONOUR OF BISHOP CORBET, Found in a blank leaf of his Poems in MS. IF flowing wit, if verses writ with ease, If learning void of pedantry can please ; If much good-humour joined to solid sense, And mirth accompanied with innocence, Can give a poet a just right to fame, Then Corbet may immortal honours claim ; For he these virtues had, and in his lines Poetic and heroic spirit shines ; Though bright yet solid, pleasant but not rude, With wit and wisdom equally endued. Be silent, Muse, thy praises are too faint, Thou want'st a power this prodigy to paint, At once a poet, prelate, and a saint. J.C. Ixxviii / UPON MY GOOD LORD THE BISHOP OF NORWICHK, RICHARD CORBET, WHO DYED JULY 28, 1635, AND LYES BURIED IN HIS CATHEDRAL CHURCH*. \ [% Mr. JOHN TAYLOR of NORWICH: From the Cabinet, published there in 1795.J YE rural bardes who haunte the budding groves, Tune your wilde reeds to sing the wood-larkei loves, And let the softe harpe of the hawthorn yale Melt in sweete euloge to the nightingale ; Yet haplie, Drummond, well thy muse might raise Aires not earth-born to suit my raven's praise. Ixxix Raven he was, yet was no gloomie fowle, Merrie at hearte, though innocente of soule ; Where'er he perkt, the birds that came anighe Constrayned caught the humour of his eye : Under that shade no spights and wrongs were spred, Care came not nigh with his uncomlie head. Somewhile the thicke embranching trees amonge, Where Isis doth his waters leade alonge, Kissinge with modeste lippe the holie soyle, Reflecting backe each hallowed grove the while ; Here did my raven trie his dulcive note, Charming old Science with his mellow throat. Sometimes with scholiasts deep in anciente lore, Through learnings long defyles he would explore^ Then with keene wit untie the perplext knot Of Aristotle or the cunning Scot ; Anon loud laughter shook the arched hall, For mirth stood redy at his potcnto call. Ixxx Oxforde, thou couldst not binde his outspred wing, My raven flew where bade his princely e king ; Norwiche must honours give he did not crave, Norwiehe must lend his palace and his grave : And that kinde hearte which gave such vertne birth Must here be shrouded in the greedie earth. Ofte hath thy humble lay-clerke led along, When thou wert by, the eve or matin song ; And oftimes rounde thy marble shall he strole, To chaunte sad requiems to thy soothed soul j^ Sleep on, till Gabriel's trump shall break thy sleepj And thou and I one heavenlie holiday shall keep. Cotter* POEMS. DR. THOMAS RAVIS. IN the following tribute to the memory of a fel- low-collegian, and predecessor in the deanery of Christ Church, it will not be too much to conjec- ture that Corbet was urged by gratitude for kind- ness experienced while the latter was young. The " Elegie " was evidently written immediately upon the interment of its subject, as towards its con- clusion he complains that no tomb was raised over his remains ; a complaint which was soon after obviated, when a fair monument was erect- ed, bearing the following inscription, which con. tains all that is necessary to be told here of the circumstances of his life and character : ^ a " MEMORLE SACRUM. THOMAS RAVIS> Claris natalibus Mauldenae in Suthreia natus, Regius Alumnus in Schola West, monasteriensi educatus, in Academiam Oxoni- cnsem aclscjtus, omnes academicos honores con- sequutus, et magistratibus perfunctus, Decanus Ecclesiae Christi ibidem constitutes, et bis Aca, demiae Pro-Cancellarius. Unde ob doctrinam, gravitatem, et spectatam prudentiam, a Rege Jacobo, primum ad Episcopatum Glocestren- sem proTectus, deinde ad Londinensem trans- latus, et demum a Christo, dum Ecclesiae, Patriae, Principi vigilaret, in coelestem patriam evocatus, placide pieque emigravit, et quod mortale fuit, certa spe resurgendij hie deposuit, die 14 Decembris, An. salutis 1609." AN ELEGIE WRITTEN UPON THE DEATH OF DR. RAVIS, BISHOP OF LONDON. WHEN I past Paules, and travell'd in that walke Where all oure Brittaine-sinners sweare and talk 1 ; Ould Harry-ruffians, bankerupts, southsayers, And youth, whose cousenage is as ould as theirs ; 1 Saint Paul's cathedral was in Corbet's time the resort of the idle and profligate of all classes . the author, Their moderator was nol G f ^ The country did such store The proctors might not But to conclude, the king was pleas'd, And of the court the town was eas'd : Yet Oxford though (dear sister) hark yet, The king is gone but to New-market^ And comes again e're it be long, Then you may make another song. The king being gone from Trtn\ They make a scramble for * ages, Masters of all sorts, an ' .eyes, pages, Keepers, subcizers. * * to come aboard, Who all did thr J , IM . M me now, Good my lord. With Pray - Th prest & lordship wondrous hard, bi^o did want the guard; so did t^y thron him f r the Until he blest them all at once, And cryed. Hodiissime: Omnes Magistri estote, 23 Nor is this all which we do sing 3 For of jour praise the world must ring : Reader, unto your tackling look, For there is coming forth a book Will spoyl Joseph Barnesius The sale of Rex Platoniau. AN ANSWER TO THE FORMER SONG, IN LATIN AND ENGLISH, BY LAKES. (From an Autograph in the Editor's possession.) A BALLAD Jate was made., But God knowes who 'es the penner, Some say the rhyming sculler 1 , And others say 'twas Fenner* : But they that know the style Doe smell it by the collar, And do maintaine it was the braine Of some yong Oxford scholler. 1 & n - The former is Taylor, the celebrated water-poet : the latter, William Fenner, a puritanical poet and pam- phleteer of that period, was educated at Pembroke-hall, Oxford. He was preferred to the rectory of Rochford, in Essex, by the earl of Warwick. He died about 164O. 25 RESPONSIO, &c. PER LAKES. FACTA est cantilena, Sed nescio quo autore ; An fluxerit ex remige, An ex Fenneri ore. Sed qui legerunt, contendunt 3 Esse hanc tenelli Oxoniensis nescio cujus Prolem cerebelli. Archbishop Laud in his annual account to the king 1636, page 37, mentions one Fenner, a principal ringleader of the Separatists, with their conventicles, at and about Ash- ford in Kent. 26 And first he rails on Cambridge, And thinkes her to disgrace, By calling her Lutetia, And throws dirt in her face : But leave it, scholler, leave it, For all the world must grant, If Oxford be thy mother, Then Cambridge is thy aunt. Then goes he to the town, And puts it all in starch, For other rhyme he could not find To fit the seventh of March : But leave it, scholler, leave it, For I must vail the bonnet, And cast the caps at Cambridge For making song and sonnet. Nam primo Cantabrigiam Convitiis execravit. Quod vocitat Lutetiam, Et luto conspurcavit. Sed parce, precor, parcito, Nam istud nihil moror, Quum hujus academiae Oxonia sit soror. Tune oppidanos raiseros Horrendo cornu petit, De quibus dixit, nescio quid, Et rythmum sic effecit. Sed parce, precor, parcito, Bardos Oxonienses In canticis non vicimus Jam Cantabrigienses. 28 Thence goes he to their present. And there he doth purloyne > For looking in their plate He nimmes away their coyne : But leave it ? scholler, leave it ? For 'tis a dangerous thing" To steal from corporations The presents of a king. Next that, my lord vice-chancellor He brings before the prince^ And in the face of all the court He makes his horse to wince. But leave it, scholler, leave it. For sure that jest did faile, Unless you clapt a nettle Under his horse's taile. 29 Jam inspicit cratera Quae regi dono datur, Et aumin ibi positum Subripere conatur. Sed parce, precor 3 parcito, Nam scelus istud lues, Si fraudes sodalitia, Ad crucem cito rues. Dein pro-cancellarium Produxit equitantem, In equum valde agilem Hue et illuc saltantem : Sedparce, precor, parcito, ' Nam tibi vix credetur Si non sub ejus cauda Urtica poneretur. Then aimes he at our orator, And at his speech he snarles, Because he forced a word, and called The prince " most Jacob-Charles." But leave it, scholler, leave it, For he did it compose That puts you down as much for tongue As you do him for nose. Then flies he to our comedies. And there he doth professe He saw among our actors A perfect diocess. But leave it, scholler, leave it, a Twas no such witty fiction, For since you leave the vicar out, You spoile the jurisdiction. 31 Tune evomit sententiam In ipsum oratorem Qui dixit Jacobissimum, Praeter Latinum morem. Sed parce, precor, parcito> Orator exit tails Qui magis pellet lingua Quam ipse naso Tales. Adibat ad comoediam Et cuncta circumspexit, Actorum diocesin Completam hie detexit : Sedparce, precor, parcito, Ilaec cogitare mente Non Talet jurisdictio Yicario absente. Next that he backes the hobby-horse. And with a scholler's grace. Not able to endure the trott, He'd bfing him to the pase : But leave it, scholler, leave it, For you will hardly do it, Since all the riders in your muse Could never bring him to it. Polonia land can tell, Through which he oft did trace, And bore a fardell at his back, He nere went other pace. But leave him, scholler, leave him, He learned it of his sire, And if you put him from his trott Hee'l lay you in the my re. 33 Fictitio equo subdidit Calcaria, sperans fore Ut eum ire cogeret Gradu submissiore : Sed parce, precor, parcito, Hoc non efficietur Si'iste stabularius Habenis moderetiir. Testis est Polonia, Qtiam saepe is transivit, Et oneratus sarcina Eodem gradu ivit. Turn parce, precor, parcito, Et credas ht>c futurum, Si Brutun^regat Asinus Gradatim non iturum. D Our horse has thrown his rider ; But now he meanes to shame us. And in the censuring of our play Conspires with Ignoramus. But leave it, scholler, leave it, And call't not " God knows what, 1 Your head was making ballads When you should mark the plot. His fantasie, still working, Finds out another crotchet ; Then runs he to the bishop, And rides upon his rotchet. But leave it, sch oiler, leave it, And take it not in snuff, For he that weares no picadell By law may weare a ruffe. Comcediam Ignoramus Eum spectare libet, Et hujus delicatulo Structura non arridet.* At parce, precor, parcito, Turn aliter versatus In facicndis canticis Fuisti occupatus. Turn pergit maledicere Cicestriensi patri, Et vestes etiam vellicat Episcopi barbati. Sed parce, precor, parcito, Et nos tu sales pone, Ne tanti patris careas Benedictione, D2 36 Next that he goes to dinner, And, like an hardy guest, When he had cramm'd his belly full He railes against the feast. But leave it, scholler, leave it; For, since you eat his roast, It argues want of manners To raile upon the host. Now listen, masters, listen. That tax us for our riot, For here two men went to a ken, So slender was the diet. Then leave him, scholler, leave him, He yieldes himself your debtor, And next time he's vice-chancellor Your table shall be better. S7 Turn cibo se ingurgitans Abunde sagmatur, Et venter cum expletus est, Danti convitiatur. 1 parce, precor, parcito, illud Yerum erit, QuicqiiK -*grato infecerit Oxoniensu At ecce nos videmur Tenaces minis esse, Gallinam unam quod spectasset Duos comedisse. P arce ? Precor, parcito, H*c culpa corrigetur um rursus Cantabrigia Episcopo regetur.- 38 Then goes he to the Regent-house, And there he sits and sees How lackeys and subsisers press And scramble for degrees. But leave it. scholler, leave it .md, 'Twas much against ow ,rs are ope But when the prison r j behind. Noe thief will r J Behold Danger yet: p threatens us ere long, rfhcn as the king comes back againe, To make another song. But leave it, scholler, leave it, Your weakness you disclose; For "Bonny Neil" doth plainly tell Your wit lies all in prose. 39 Sed novo in sacello Pedissequos aspexit, Quos nostra Academia Honoribus erexit. Sed parce, precor, parcito, Nam ipse es expertus, Effughmt omnes protinus Cum career est apertus. At nobis minitatur, Si rex sit rediturus, Tune iste (Phcebo duce) eit Tela resumpturus. Sed parce, precor, parcito, Piscator ictus sapit, Fugatus namque miles inert Arma nunqnam capit. 40 Nor can you make the world Of Cambridge praise to ringe > A mouth so foul no market eare Will stand to hear it sing. Then leave it, scholler, leave it, For yet you cannot say, The king did go from you in March And come again in May. Et Cantabrigiam non Laedi hinc speramus, Ex ore tarn spurcidico Nil damni expectamus. O parce, ergo, parcito, Oxonia nunquam dicit, Cum Martio princcps aliens In Maio nos revisit. 42 ADDITAMENTA SUPERIORI CANTICO. Ingenij amplitudinem Jam satis ostendisti, Et eloquentiae fructus Abunde protulisti : Sed parce, tibi, parcito, - Ne omne absumatur, Ne tandem tibi arido Nil suavi relinquatur. Jam satis oppugnasti, O Polyphemi proles ! Et tanquam taurus gregis Nos oppugnare soles. Sed parce, tandem, parcita, Tuis laudatus eris, Et nunc inultus tanquam stultu* A nobis dimittcris. LADY ARABELLA STUART. THE circumstances of the life of this accomplished ^and persecuted lady, " I'rom kings descended, and to kings allied," are familiar to every reader of biographical his- tory. In Lodge's Illustrations of British History are some letters which convey an exalted idea of her mental abilities ; and the editor has proved, in opposition to the assertion of the authors of the Biographia Britannica, that she was far from de- ficient in personal beauty. She was the only child of Charles Stuart, fifth earl of Lennox, (uncle to James the First, and great-grandson to Henry VII.) by Elizabeth, daughter of sir William Cavendish, of Hard wick; was born about the year 1578, and brought up in privacy under the care of her grandmother, the old countess of Lennox, who had for many years resided in England. Her double relation to- royalty was equally, obnoxious to the jealousy of Elizabeth and the timidity of James, and they secretly dreaded the supposed danger of her leav. ing a legitimate offspring. The former, therefore, prevented her from marrying Esme Stuart, her \ kinsman, and heir to the titles and estates of her family, and afterwards imprisoned her for listen. ing to some overtures from the son of the earl of Northumberland : the latter, by obliging her to reject many splendid offers of marriage, unwarily encouraged the hopes of inferior pretenders. Thus circumscribed, she renewed a childish con. nection with William Seymour, grandson to the earl of Hertford, which was discovered in 1609; when both parties were summoned to appear be* fore the privy council, and received a severe re- primand. This mode of proceeding produced the very consequence which James meant to avoid ; for the lady, sensible that her reputation had 45 T)een wounded by this inquiry, was in a manner forced into a marriage ; which becoming publicly known in the course of the next spring, she was committed to close custody in the house of sir Thomas Parry, at Lambeth, and Mr. Seymour to the Tower. In this state of separation, however, they concerted means for an escape, which both effected on the same day, June 3, 1611 ; and Mr. Seymour got safely to Flanders : but the poor lady was re-taken in Calais road, and imprisoned in the Tower ; where the sense of these unde- served oppressions operating too severely on her high spirit, she became a lunatic, and languished in that wretched state, augmented by the horrors of a prison, till her death on the 27th Sept. 1615.* 3 See Lodge's Illustrations of British History, 4to. voLiii. p. 178; Brydges's Peers of the Reign of James the First, vol. i, j and Winwood's Memorials, 46 ox THE LADY ARABELLA. How do I thanke thee, Death, and blesse thy power That I have past the guard, and scaped the Tower ! And now my pardon is my epitaph, And a small coffin my pgore carkasse hath. For at thy charge both soule and body were Enlarged at last, secured from hope and feare ; That among saints, this amongst kings is laid, And what my birth did claim, my death hath paid. UPON MISTRIS MALLET*, AN UNHANDSOME GENTLEWOMAN, WHO MADE LOVE UNTO HIM, HAVE I renounc't my faith, or basely sold Salvation, and my loyalty, for gold ? Have I some forreigne practice undertooke By poyson, shott, sharp-knife, or sharper bo>ke To kill my king ? have I betrayd the state To fire and fury, or some newer fate, Which learned murderers, those grand destines, The Jesuites, have nurc'd ? if of all these * For this vehement attack upon the weakness of in in- fatuated woman, the author must be screened und r the example of Horace, Ep. 8-and 12. a I guilty am, proceed ; I am content That Mallet take mee for my punishment. For never sinne was of so high a rate, But one nighrs hell with her might expiate. Although the law with Garnet 5 , and the rest, Dealt farr nore mildly 5 hanging 's but a jest To this immortall torture. Had shee bin then In Maryes torrid dayes engend'red, when Cruelty was witty, and Invention free Did live by blood, and thrive by crueltye, Shec would have bin more horrid engines farre Thai fire, or famine, racks, and halters are. Wlether her witt, forme, talke, smile, tire I name, Eath is a stock of tyranny, and shame ; Bu; for her breath, spectatours come not nigh, Thzt layes about \ God blesse the company ! 5 ftenry Garnet, provincial of the order of Jesuits in England, who was arraigned and executed at the west end of St Paul's, for his connivance at, rather than for any activ< participation in, the Gunpowder Plot, May 3, 1605. See Sate Trials. 49 The man, in a beares skin baited to death, Would chose the doggs much rather then her breath ; One kisse of hers, and eighteene wordes alone Put downe the Spanish Inquisition. Thrice happy wee (quoth I thinking thereon) That see no dayes of persecution ; For were it free to kill, this grisly elfc Wold martyrs make in compass of herselfe : And were shee not prevented by our prayer, By this time shee corrupted had the aire. And am I innocent ? and is it true, That thing (which poet Plinye never knew, Nor A f rick, Nile, nor ever Hackluyts eyes Descry'd in all his East, West-voyages ; That thing, which poets were afrayd to feigne, For feare her shadowe should infect their braine; This spouse of Antichrist, and his alone, Shee's drest so like the Whore of Babylon;) 50 Should doate on mee ? as if they did contrive The devill and she, to damne a man alive. Why doth not Welcome rather purchase her. And beare about this rare familiar ? Sixe markett dayes, a wake, and a fayre too't. Would save his charges, and the ale to boot. No tyger 's like her ; shee feedes upon a man Worse than a tygresse or a leopard can. Let mee go pray, and thiiike upon some spell, At once to bid the devill and her far well. 51 HENRY PRINCE OF WALES. UPON the death of the promising Henry (Nor. 6, 1612), a prince, according to Arthur Wilson', as eminent in nobleness as in blood, and who fell not without suspicion of foul play, the poets his cotemporaries, whom he liberally patronised, poured forth by reams their tributary verses. Corbet, as it has been before observed, pro- nounced his funeral oration at Oxford. Nor was this all : while his bones were perish- ing and his flesh was rottenness, Dr. Daniel Price, his chaplain during his life, continued to comme- morate his dissolution by preaching an anniver- sary sermon. Neither the practice nor its execu- tion was agreeable to Corbet, who, after a tri- ennial repetition, thus attacked the anniversarist. a Wilson's Hist, of James I, Pa. 62. fol. 1653. E2 IN QUENDAM ANNIVERSARIORUM SCRIPTOREM. Ter circum Iliacos raptaverat Hcctora muros. VIEG. ;En. 1. 483. EVEN soe dead Hector thrice was triumph'd on The walls of Troy, thrice slain when Fates h: done : So did the barbarous Greekes before their hoas Torment his ashes and profane his ghost : As Henryes vault ? his peace, his sacred hearse. Are torne and batter'd by thine Anniverse. Was 't not enough Nature and strength were fo< But thou must yearly murther him in prose ? Or dost thou 'thinke thy raving phrase can ma A lowder eccho then the Almanake ? 53 Trust mee, November doth more ghastly looke In Dade and Hopton's 7 pennyworth then thy booke ; And sadder record their fixt figure beares Then thy false-printed and ambitious teares. For were it not for Christmas, which is nigh, When spice, fruit eaten, and digested pye Call ?or waste paper ; no man could make shift How to employ thy writings to his thrift. Wherefore Urbear, for pity or for shame, And let some richer penne redeeme his fame From rottennesse. Thou leave him captive ; since So vile a PRICE ne'ere nnsom'd such a Prince. 7 Two manufacturers of almmacks and prognostics. The latter was, however, of some no-.e as to family, being- the fifth son of sir Arthur Hopton by "SUchael, daughter of Edmund Hall, of Greatford in Lincolnshire ; nor was his fame in learning unequal to his 'birth. Iu 1604 he was entered a gentleman commoner of Lincoln college, Oxon, and in 1607 was admitted bachelor of arts. He was held in high estimation b)rSelden for his mathematical knowledge, but died in the prime of life in the month of Nov. 16 14. 54 AN ANSWER ; BY DR. PRICE . So to dead Hector boys may do disgrace, That durst not look upon his living face? So worst of men behind their better^ back May stretch mens names and credit on the rack. 8 Dr. Daniel Price was the el- es t son of Thomas Price, vicar of Saint Chad's, Shrewsbury, in which borough he was born and educated. From St. Mary Hall, Oxford, where he was entered x* 1594, he removed to Exeter col- lege, where he took the degree of master of arts, and en- tered into holy coders. He afterwards became dean and residentiary cinon of Hereford, rector of Worthyn in Shropshire, and of JLantelos in Cornwall ; for which coun- ties, as well as that of Montgomery, he officiated as ma- gistrate. He was author of many works, wholly devo- tional, and died at Worthyn the 23d September 1631, and was buried there in the chancel of the church. 55 Good friend, our general tie to him that's gone Should love the man that yearlie doth him moane The author's zeal and place he now doth hold. His love and duty makes him be thus bold To offer this poor mite, his anniverse Unto his good great master's sacred hearse ; The which he doth with privilege of name. Whilst others, 'midst their ale, in corners blame. A pennyworth in print they never made, Yet think themselves as good as Pond or Dade. One anniverse, when thou hast done thus twice, Thy words among the best will be of PRICE. IN POET AM EXAUCTORATUM ET EMERITUM. ]\OR is it griev'd, grave youth, the memory Of such a story, such a booke as hce, That such a copy through the world were read ; Henry yet lives, though he le buried. It could be wish'd that every eye might beare His eare good witnesse that he still were here ; That sorrowe ruled the yeare, and by that sunn< Each man could tell you how the day had runne : 'twere an honest boast, for him could say 1 have been busy, and wept out the day Remembring him. An epitaph would last Were such a trophee, such a banner placed Upon his corse as this : Here a man lyes Was slaine ly Henry e's dart, not Destinie's. 57 Why this were med'cinable, and would heale, Though the whole languish'd, halfe the common- weale. But for a Coller to goe burn his cappe, And cry. The Prince, thePrince! Odireraishappe! Or a Geneva-bridegroom, after grace, To throw his spouse i' th' fire ; or scratch her face To the tune of the Lamentation ; or delay His Friday capon till the Sabbath day : Or an old Popish lady half vow'd dead To fast away the day in gingerbread : For him to write such annals ; all these things Do open laughter's and shutt up griefe's springs. Tell me, what j uster or more congruous peerc Than Ale, to judge of workes begott of beere ? Wherefore forbeare or, if thou print the next, Bring better notes, or take a meaner text. 58 ON MR. FRANCIS BEAUMONT, THEX NEWLY DEAD. (The following lines, which have hitherto been omitted in the bishop's poems, are found in the collected dramas of the " twin stars that run Their glorious course round Shakespeare's honoured sun." Beaumont was born 1585, and was buried the ninth of March 1615, in the entrance of St. Ben- net's chapel, Westminster abbey.) HE that hath such acuteness and such wit As would aske ten good heads to husband it ; He that can write so well, that no man dare Refuse it for the best, let him beware : Beaumont is dead ! by whose sole death appears Wit's a disease consumes men in few yeares. WILLIAM LORD HOWARD, OF EFFINGHAM, the subject of the succeeding poem, was the eldest son of Charles Howard, earl of Nottingham, (lord high admiral of England, and defeater of the Spa- nish Armada in the reign of Elizabeth, a noble- man of high estimation during greater part of the reign of her successor,) by Catharine, daughter of Henry Carey, lord Hunsdon ; celebrated for concealing the ring by which the life of the earl of Essex might have been saved, and upon whose death-bed discovery of the concealment Elizabeth told her, u God may forgive you, but I never can." Lord Howard makes no conspicuous figure in the page of histoiy : he was summoned by writ to several parliaments during his father's life, whom he accompanied on his embassy to the court 60 of Spaine (1604), but died before him 10th Dec. 1615, and was buried at Chelsea. lie married in 1 597 Anne, daughter and sole heiress to John lord St. John of Bletsoe, by whom he left one daughter, who became the wife of John lord Mordaunt, afterwards earl of Pe- terborough. AN ELEGIE' ON THE LATE LORD WILLIAM HOWARD, BARON OF EFFTNGHAM. I DID not know thee, lord, nor do I strive To win access, or grace, with lords alive : The dead I serve, from whence nor faction can Move me, nor favour ; nor a greater man. To whom no vice commends me, nor bribe sent, From whom no penance warns, nor portion spent; -To these I dedicate as much of me, As I can spare from my own husbandry : And till ghosts walk as they were wont to do, I trade for some, and do these errands too. But first I do enquire, and am assur'd, What tryals in their journeys they endur'd ; * This poem, for what reason does not appear, is printed before some of the later editions of sir Thomas Overbury's Wife." 62 What certainties of honour and of worth Their most uncertain life-times have brought forth ; And who so did least hurt of this small store, He is my patron, dy'd he rich or poor. First I will know of Fame (after his peace. When flattery and envy both do cease) Who rul'd his actions : Reason, or my lord ? Did the whole man rely upon a word, A badge of title ? or, above all chance, Seem'd he as ancient as his cognizance ? What did he ? Acts of mercy, and refrain Oppression in himself, and in his train ? Was his essential table full as free As boasts and invitations use to be ? Where if his russet-friend did chance to dine, Whether his satten-man would fill him wine ? Did he think perjury as lov'd a sin, Himself forsworn, as if his slave had been ? Did he seek regular pleasures ? Was he known Just husband of one wife, and she his own ? 63 Did he give freely without pause, or doubt. And read petitions ere they were worn out ? Or should his well-deserving client ask, Would he bestow a tilting, or a masque To keep need vertuous ? and that done, not fear What lady damn'd him for his absence there ? Did he attend the court for no man's fall ? Wore he the ruine of no hospital ? And when he did his rich apparel don, Put he no widow, nor an orphan on ? Did he love simple vertue for the thing ? The king for no respect but for the king ? But, above all, did his religion wait Upon God's throne, or on the chair of state ? He that is guilty of no quarry here, Out-lasts his epitaph, out-lives his heir. But there is none such, none so little bad; Who but this negative goodness ever had ? Of such a lord we may expect the birth, lie's rather in the womb, than on the earth. 64; And 't were a crime in such a public fate. For one fo live well and degenerate : And therefore I am angry, when a name Comes to upbraid the world like Effingham. Nor was it modest in thee to depart To thy eternal home, wliere now thou art, Ere thy reproach was ready or to die, Ere custom had prepar'd thy calumny. Eight days have past since thou hast paid thy debt To sin, and not a libel stirring yet ; Courtiers that scoff by patent, silent sit, And have no use of slander or of wit; But (which is monstrous) though against the tyde, The watermen have neither rayPd nor ly'd. Of good or bad there 's no dictinction known, For in thy praise the good and bad are one. It seems, we all are covetous of fame, And, hearing what a purchase of good name Thou lately mad'st, are careful to increase Our title ; by the holding of some lease 65 From thee our landlord, and for that th' whole crew Speak now like tenants, ready to renew. It were too sad to tell thy pedegree, Death hath disordered all, misplacing thee ; Whilst now thy herauld, in his line of heirs, Blots out thy name, and fills the space with tears. And thus hath conqu* ring Death, or Nature rather, Made thee prepostrous ancient to thy father, Who grieves th' art so, and like a glorious light Shines ore thy hearse. He therefore that would write And blaze thee throughly, may at once say all, Here lies the anchor of our admiral. Let others write for glory or reward, Truth is well paid, when she is sung and heard. LORD MORDAUNT. THE lord Mordaunt to whom this poem is ad. dressed was John fifth baron Mordaunt of Turvey, in the county of Bedford, who was afterwards (in 1628) created earl of Peterborough by king Charles the First. He married Elizabeth, daugh- ter and heir of William baron Howard of Effing- ham, (son and heir apparent of Charles earl of Nottingham,) by Anne his wife, daughter and heir of John baron St. John of Bletsoe. Us was brought up in the Roman Catholic reli- gion, but converted to that of the established church by a disputation at which he was present between a Jesuit and the celebrated Dr. Usher, (afterwards) bishop of Armagh. In 1642 he was general of the ordnance, and colonel of a regi- ment of foot in the army, raised for the service of 67 the Parliament, commanded by the earl of Essex, and died the same year. la order to understand the following poem, it will be necessary to remember, that James, in the year 1617, paid a visit to his native country, whither the lord Mordaunt accompanied him ; and the ceremony of installing the knights of the garter was consequently deferred from St. George's day to that of Holy rood. 68 TO THE LORD MORDANT, UPON HIS RETURNE FROM THE NORTH. MY lord, I doe confesse at the first newes Of your returne towards home, I did refuse To visit you, for feare the northerne winde Had peirc't into your manners and your minde ; For feare you might want memory to forget Some arts of Scotland which might haunt you yet. But when I knew you were, and when I heard You were at Woodstock scene, v well sunn'd and air'd, That your contagion in you now was spent, And you were just lord Mordant, as you went, I then resolv'd to come ; and did not doubt To be in season, though the bucke were out. 6$ Windsor the place ; the day was Holy ro.ode ; Saint George my muse : for be it understood, For all Saint George more early in the yeare Broke fast and eat a bitt, hee dined here : And though in Aprill in redd inke he shine, Know twas September made him redd with wine. To this good sport rod I, as being allow'd ' A see the king, and cry him in the crowd j v all solemne meetings have the grace To Where when I ca^ j saw ^ church besetfc With tumults, as if a NheBrethrenmett To heare some silenc't te Her of that quarter Inveigh against the order of u e garter . And justly might the weake it gr^ e and wrong, Because the garter prayes in a strange tongue . And doth fetaine traditions yet, of Fraunce In an old Honi soit qul mal y pense. 70 Whence learne, you knights that order that have t'ane, That all, besides the buckle, is profane. But there was noe such doctrine now at stake, Noe starv'd precisian from the pulpit spake : And yet the church was full ; all sorts of men, Religions, sexes, ages, were there then : Whils't he that keepes the quire together UK* Papists and Puritans, the Pope and Knr * Which made some wise-ones feare^ * e nation, This mixture would beget a ^ eration Or that religions should > aited bee > When they stay'd ser* ce > these &* letan y- But noe such hast, this dayes devotion lyes Not in the h<* of men, but in their eyes ; They that *>e see St. George, heare him aright ; For hce loves not to parly, but to fight. Amongst this audience (my lord) stood I, Weil edified as any that stood by ; 71 And knew how many leggs a knight lefts fall. Betwixt the king, the offering, and his stall : Aske mee but of their robes,.! shall relate The colour and the fashion, and the state : I saw too the procession without doore, What the poore knightes, and what the prebend? wore. All this my neighbors that stood by mee tooke, Who diy'd but to the garment, and the looke ; But I saw more, and though I have their fate In face and favour, yet I want their pate : Mee thought I then did those first ages know. Which brought forth knightes soo arm'd and looking soe, Who would maintaine their oath, and bind their worde With these two scales, an altar and a sworde. Then saw I George new-sainted, when such preists Wore him not only on, but in their breasts. 72 Oft did I wish that day, with solemne TOW, O that my country were in danger now ! And twas no treason ; who could feare to dye, When he was sure his rescue was so nigh ? And here I might a just digression make, Whilst of some foure particular knightes I spake. To whome I owe my thankes ; but twere not best, By praysing two or three, t' accuse the rest; Nor can I sing that order, or those men, That are aboue the maistery of my pen ; And private fingers may not touch those things Whose authors princes are, whose parents kings : Wherefore unburnt I will refraine that fire, Least, daring such a theam.e, I should aspire T' include my king and prince, and soe rehearse Names fitter for my prayer then my verse : " Hee that will speake of princes, let him use More grace then witt, know God 's aboue his muse." 78 Noe more of councell : Harke ! the trumpetts sound, And the grave organ's with the antheme drown'd : The Church hath said amen to all their rites, And now the Trojan horse-sets loose his knightes ; The triumph moues : O what could added bee. Save your accesse, to this solemnitye ? Which 1 expect, and doubt not but to see 't, / When the kings favour and your worth shall meete. I thinke the robes would now become you soe, St. George himselfe could scarce his owne knights know From the lord Mordant : Pardon mee that preach A doctrine which king James can only teach ; To whome I leaue you, who alone hath right To make knightes lords, and then a lord a knight. Imagine now the sceane lyes in the hall ; (For at high noone we are recusants all) The church is empty, as the belly es were Of the spectators, which had languigh'd there : 74 And now the favorites of the clarke of th' checke, Who oft haue yaun'd, and strech't out many a neck Twixt noone and morning ; the dull feeders OH Fresh patience, and raisins of the sunne, They,whohadliv'din th'hall scavenhoures atleasr, As if twere an arraignment, not a feast ; And look't soe like the hangings they stood nere, None could discerne which the true pictures were ; These now shall be refresh' t, while the bold drumme Strikes up his frollick, through the hall they come. Here might I end, my lord, and here subscribe Your honours to his power : But Oh, what bribe. What feare or mulct can make my muse refraine. When shee is urg'd of nature and disdaine ? Not all the guard shall hold mee, I must write, Though they should sweare and lye how they would fight, If I precede : nay, though the captaine say, Hold him, or else you shall not eate to day ; 75 'those goodly yeomen shall not scape my pen ; 'T was dinner-time, and I must speake of men ; So to the hall made I, with little care To praise the dishes, or to tast the fare ; Much lesse t' endanger the least tart, or pye By any waiter there stolne, or sett by ; But to compute the valew of the meate, Which was for glory, not for hunger eatc ; Nor did I feare, (stand back ) who went before The presence, or the privy-chamber doore. And woe is mee, the guard, those men of warre, Who but two weapons use, beife, and the barre, Began to gripe mee, knowing not in truth, That I had sung John Dory in my youth ; Or that I knew the day when I could chaunt Chevy, and Arthur, and the Seige of Gaunt. And though these be the vertues which must try Who are most worthy of their curtesy, They profited mee nothing : for no notes Will move them now, they 're deafe in their new coates : Wherefore on mee afresh they fall, and show Themselves moKp active then before, as though They had some wager lay'd, and did contend Who should abuse mee furthest at armes end. One I remember with a grisly beard, And better growne then any of the heard ; One, were he well examin'd, and made looke His name in his owne parish and church booke, Could hardly prove his christendome ; and yet It seem'd he had two names, for there were writt On a white canvassc doublett that he wore, Two capirall letters of a name before; Letters belike which hee had spew'd and spilt, When the great bumbard leak't, or was a tilt. This Ironside tooke hold, and sodainly Hurled nice, by judgment of the standers by, , Some twelve foote by the square ; takes mee againe, Out-throwes it halfe a bar ; and thus wee twaine At this hot exercise an hower had spent, Hee the fcirce agent, I the instrument. 77 My man began to rage, but I cry'd. Peace, When he is dry or hungry he will cease : Hold, for the Lords sake, Nicholas, lest they tak us, And use us worse then Hercules us'd Cacus. And now I breath, my lord, now have I time To tell the cause, and to confesse the crime : I was in black ; a scholler straite they guest; Indeed I coloured for it at the least. I spake them faire, desir'd to see the hall, And gave them reasons for it, this was all ; By which I learne it is a maine offence, So neere the dark of th' check to utter sense : Talk of your emblemes, maisters, alid relate How ^Esope hath it, and how Alciate ; The Cock and Pcarle, the Dunghill and the Jemme, This passeth all to talke sence amongst them. Much more good service was committed yet, Which I in such a tumult must forget ; 78 But shall I smother that prodigious fitt, / Which pass'd Heons invention, and pure witt ? As this : A nimble knave, but something fatt, Strikes at my head, and fairly steales my hatt : Another breakes a jest, (well, Windsor, well, What will ensue thereof there 's none can tell, When they spend wilt, serve God) yet twas not much, Although the clamours and applause were such, As when salt Archy or Gar ret doth provoke them 10 , And with wide laughter and a cheat-Ioafe choake them. 10 These reverend gentlemen were jesters to James the First. The name of the former, was Archibald Armstrong, of whom and of whose jests an account may b^- found in Granger, vol. ii. p. 399. ed. 1775. 8vo. They are again joined in a manuscript poem (penes me) by Peter Heylin, written in derision of Barten Holiday's play already men- tioned in the life of the bishop, of which the following are the introductory lines : ' Whoop Holyday ! why then *t will ne'er be better, Why all the guard, that never saw more letters Than those upon their coates; whose wit consists In Archy 's bobs and Garret's sawcy jests, Deride our Christ-church scene." 79 What was the jest doe you aske ? I dare repeate it, And put it home before you shall entreat it ; He call'd nice Bloxford-man : confesse I must >T was bitter ; and it griev'd mee, in a thrust That most ungratefull word (Bloxford) to heart From him, whose breath yet stunk of Oxford beere : But let it passe ; for I have now passd throw Their halberds, and worse weapons, their teeth, too : And of a worthy officer was invited To dine ; who all their rudeness hath requited : WJiere wee had mirth and meat, and a large board Furnish't with all the kitchin could afford. But to conclude, to wipe of from before yee All this which is noe better then a story ; Had this affront bin done mee by command Of noble Fenton n , had their captaines hand 11 Thomas Ereskine, earl of Fentga. 80 Directed them to this, I should beleive I had no cause to jeast, but much to greive : Or had discerning Pembrooke 12 scene this done, And thought it well bestow'd, I would have run Where no good man had dwelt, nor learn'd would fly, Where noe disease would keepe mee company, Where it should be preferment to endure To teach a schoole, or else to starve a cure. But as it stands, the persons and the cause Consider well, their manners and their Jawes, Tis no affliction to mee, for even thus Saint Paul hath fought with beasts at Ephesus 3 And I at Windsor. Let this comfort then Rest with all able and deserving men : 17 William, earl of Pembroke, a poet himself, and an universal patron of learning-, whose character is so admi- rably drawn by Clarendon. 81 Hee that will please the guard, and not provoke Court-witts, must suite his learning by a cloake : " For at all feasts and masques the doome hath bin, " A man thrust out and a gay cloake let in." Quid immercntes hospites vexas canis, Ignavus adversus lupos ? ' S3 TO THE PRINCE. (AFTERWARDS CHARLES THE FIRST.) Born at Dumferling, November the l9th, 1600; crowned 27th March 1625 ; beheaded 30th January 1648-9. (From a Manuscript in Ashmole's Museum.) i FOR ever dear, for ever dreaded prince, You read some verse of mine a little since. And so pronounced each word and every letter Your gratious reading made my verse the better : Since that your highness doth by gifte exceeding Make what you read the better for your reading, Let my poor muse thus far your grace importune To leave to reade my verse, and read my fortune. A NEW-YEARES GIFT TO MY LORDE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. (Born 28th August 1592 ; assassinated by Felton, 23d August 1628.) WHEN I can pay my parents, or my king, For life, or peace, or any dearer thing ; Then, dearest lord, expect my debt to you Shall bee as truly paid, as it is due. But, as no other price or recompence Serves them, but love, and my obedience ; So nothing payes my lord, but whats above The reach of hands, 't is vertue, and my love. " For, when as goodnesse doth so overflow, " The conscience bindes not to restore, but owe :" Requitall were presumption ; and you may Call mee ungrateful!, while I strive to pay. 81 Nor with a morall lesson doe I shift, Like one that mean,t to save a better gift ; Like very poorc, or counterfeite poore men,. Who, to preserve their turky or their hen, Doe offer up themselves : No ; I have sent A kind of guift, will last by being spent, Thankes sterling : far above the bullion rate Of horses, hangings, Jewells, or of plate. O you that know the choosing of that one, Know a true diamond from a Bristow stone : You know, those men alwaies are not the best In their intent, that lowdest can protest : But that a prayer from the convocation, Is better then the commons protestation. Trust those that at the test their lives will lay, And know no arts, but to deserve, and pray : Whilst they, that buy preferment without praying. Begin with broyles, and finish with betraying. SIR THOMAS AYLESBURY, A LONDONER born, was second son of William A)lesbury by Anne his wife, daughter of John Poole, esq., and from Westminster School removed K Christ-Church, Oxford, in 1598, where he be- came fellow-student with Corbet, and where, on the 9th j une ico5j they took the degree of master of art, together. Aylesbury, aK, r he had left Oxford, became secretary to Charles l^ war d, earl of Nottingham, lord high admiral of En&md, and in 1618, when the latter resigned his offic^ wa s continued in the same employment under Howard's successor, George Villiers, then marquis, and afterwards duke of Buckingham. Under the patronage of Villiers he was appointed one of the masters of the requests, and on the 19th of April 1627 created 86 a baronet, and soon afterwards obtained the office of master of the mint. He retained his places until the breaking out of the civil wars in 1642, and faithfully adhering to the cause of Charles the First, retired with his family, in 1649, after the execution of that unfortunate monarch, to Antwerp in Brabant, and continued there until 1652, when he removed to Breda, where he dp in 1657, aged 81, and was buried in the^ re church. He was a learned man, and " a loT( and encourager of learning and Med cially of mathematicians, (V being one himself) as any man in his time." He had a son, Will^m, who was a man of learn- ing, and tutor toe two sons of his father's pa. tron , Villiers. but died issueless in Jamaica in tl service of Cromwell in the same year with father: and a daughter, Frances, (sole heir c her father aud brother) who, in 1634, became the 87 wife of Edward Hyde, afterwards earl of Cla- rendon, and was grandmother to queen Mary the - Second, and to queen Anne. I have been the more particular in noticing what relates fo sir .Thomas Aylesbury, since bi. shop Corbet's advancement at court followed, though it trode close upon the heels of, that of Aylesbury, which leads me to presume that the latter was in some degree Corbet' s patron as well as friend and companion. 88 A LETTER SENT FROM DR. CORBET TO SIR THOMAS AILESBURY. December the 9th, 1618. ON THE OCCASION OF A BLAZING STAR. My brother and much more, hadst thou been mine, Hadst thou in one rich present of a line Inclos'd sir Francis, for in all this store No gift can cost thee less, or binde me more 5 Hadst thou (dear churle) imparted his return, I should not with a tardy welcome burn ; But had let loose my joy at him long since, Which now will seem but studied negligence : 89 But I forgive thee, two things kept tTiee from it, First such a friend to gaze on, next a comet ; "Which comet we discern, though not so true As you at Sion, as long tayl'd as you ; We know already how will stand the case, With Barnavelt w of universal grace, 13 The compass of a note is too confined for an account of this great negociator and general, who fell by the jea- lousy of the Prince of Orange the 13th March It 19. He was born at Amersfort, in the province of Utrecht, was five times employed as ambassador to England and France, and had long the command of the armies of the United Provinces. De Thou says, "quec'&oit un homme tres accredite par les charges qu' il avoit remplies, et par sa grande experience dans les affaires:" And Moreri con- cludes an account of his character, and his death, which he met with an undaunted spirit, in the following words : " Barneveldt, ayant ete pris, eutla tete tranche"e a 1'age de 72 ans, sous pre"texte d' avoir voulu livrer le pays arx Espagnols, quoiqu'il le niat coustamment, et qu'en effet on n' en ait trouve aucune preuve dans ses papiers. Son crime e"toit d' avoir refuse d'entrer dans le complot, a la faveur du quel le prince Maurice vouloit a ce qu'on dit se rendre maitre des Pays Bas, et d' avoir defendu la liberte de sa patrie avec trop de zele.'' Tom. u. p. 78. 90 Though Spain deserve the whole star, if the fall Be true of Lerma duke and cardinal H : Marry, in France we fear no blood, but wine ; Less danger 's in her sword, than in her vine. And thus we leave the blazers coming over, For our portents are wise, and end at Dover : * And though we use no forward censuring, Nor send our learned proctors to the king, Yet every morning when the star doth rise. There is no black for three hours in our eyes ; But like a Puritan dreamer, towards this light All eyes turn upward, all are zeal and white : J * No minister ever exerted his power with less tyranny and more benignity than the favourite of Philip the Third : he fell " from his high estate" by the intrigues of his son, and an ungrateful monk whom he had raised to be con- fessor to the king, and who abandoned the friend that had elevated him as soon as the smiles of sovereignty were transferred to another. On the 4th of October 1618, he re- tired to his paternal estate from the capricious favour of the court, where he passed the remainder of his days in peace and privacy. 91 More it is doubtful that this prodigy Will turn ten schools to one astronomy : And the analysis we justly fear. Since every art doth seek for rescue there ; Physicians, lawyers, glovers on the stall, The shopkeepers speak mathematics all ; And though men read no gospels in these signes, Yet all professions are become divines ; All weapons from the bodkin to the pike, The masons rule and taylors yard alike Take altitudes, and th' early fidling knaves On fluits and hoboyes made them Jacobs-staves ; Lastly of fingers, glasses we contrive. And every fist is made a prospective : Burton to Gunter cants 13 , and Burton hears From Gunter, and th' exchange both tongue and ears 5 William Burton is said, by Antony a Wood, to have been a pretender to astronomy, of which he published an Ephemeris in 1655. Edmund Gunter, a mathematician of greater eminence, was astronomical professor of Greshara 92 By carriage : thus doth mired Guy complain, His waggon in their letters bears Charles-Wain, Charles -Wairt, to which they say the tayl will reach ; And at this distance they both hear and teach. Now, for the peace of God and men, advise (Thou that hast where-withal to make us wise) Thine own rich studies, and deep Harriots mine 16 , In which there is no dross, but all refine : O tell us w r hat to trust to, lest we wax All stiff and stupid with his parallax : College, and eminent for his skill in the sciences : his pub- lications were popular in his day. He died in Gresham College, 1626. 16 Thomas Harlot, styled by Camden " Mathematicus Insignis," was a pensioner arid companion of sir Walter Raleigh in his voyage to Virginia (158-1), of which upon his return he published an account. He was held in high estimation by the earl of Northumberland, sir Thomas Aylesbury, and others, for his mathematical knowledge, but, like his patron, Ralttigh, was a deist in religion. Ob. 1621. See Wood's Athens, vol. i. p. 460. ed. 1721. ^ 93 Say, shall the old philosophy be true ? Or doth he ride above the moon, think you ? Is he a meteor forced by the sun ? Or a first body from creation ? Hath the same star been object of the wonder Of our forefathers ? Shall the same come under The sentence of our nephews ? Write and send, Or else this star a quarrel doth portend. DR. CORBETS JOURNEY INTO FRANCE. I WENT from England into France, Nor yet to learn to cringe nor dance, Nor yet to ride or fence; Nor did I go like one of those That do return with half a nose They carried from hence. But I to Paris rode along, Much like John Dory in the song ir , Upon a holy tide* l " Of this popular song, which is reprinted from "Deu- teromelia," 1609, in Hawkins's History of Music, and id Ritson's Antient Songs, the following is the introductory stanza : " As it fell upon a holyday And upon a holy-tide-a, John Dory brought him an ambling nag To Paris for to ride-a." 95 I on an ambling nag did jet, I trust he is not paid for yet ; And spur'd him on each side. And to Saint Dennis fast we came, To see the sights of Nostre Dame, The man that shews them snaffles Where who is apt for to beleeve, May see our Ladies right-arm sleeve, And eke her old pantofles ; Her breast, her milk, her very gown That she did wear in Bethlehem town, When in the inn she lay. Yet all the world knows that's a fable, For so good clothes ne're lay in stable Upon a lock of hay. 96 No carpenter could by his trade Gain so much coyn as to have made A gown of so rich stuff. Yet they, poor fools, think, for their credit, They may believe old Joseph did it, 'Cause he deserv'd enough. There is one of the crosses nails. Which whoso sees, his bonnet vails, And if he will, may kneel. Some say 'twas false, 'twas never so, Yet, feeling it, thus much I know, It is as true as steel. There is a lanthorn which the Jews, When Judas led them forth, did use, It weighs my weight downright : But to believe it, you must think The Jews did put a candle in *t, And then 't was very light. 97 There 's one saint there hath lost his nose ; Another 's head, but not his toes, His elbow and his thumb. But when that we had seen the rags We went to th* inn and took our nags, And so away did come. We came to Paris on the Seine, 'Tis wondrous fair, 'tis nothing clean, 'Tis Europes greatest town. How strong it is I need not tell it, For all the world may easily smell it, That walk it up and down. There many strange things are to see, The Palace and great Gallery, The Place Royal doth excel The New Bridge, and the Statues there, At Nostre Dame, Saint Q. Pater, The Steeple bears the bell. 98 For learning, th' Universitie ; And for old clothes, the Frippery ; The House the Queen did build. Saint Innocents, whose earth devours Dead corps in four and twenty hours, And there the King was kill'd : The Bastile and Saint Dennis-street, The Shafflenist, like London-Fleet, The Arsenal, no toy. But if you '11 see the prettiest thing, Go to the court and see the King, O 'tis a hopeful boy. He is of all his dukes and peers Reverenc'd for much wit at 's years, Nor must you think it much ; For he with little switch doth play, And make fine dirty pyes of clay, O never king made such ! 99 A bird that can but kill a fly, Or prate, doth please his majesty, 'T is known to every one. The duke of Guise gave him a parret, And he had twenty cannons for it For his new galeon. O that I ere might have the hap To get the bird which in the map Is called the Indian Ruck ! I'de give it him, and hope to be As rich as Guise, or Livine, Or else I had ill luck. Birds round about his chamber stand, And he them feeds with his own hand , 'T is his humility. And if they do want any thing, They need but whistle for their king, And he comes presently. ICO s But now then, for these parts he must Be cnstiled Lewis the Just 1 *, Great Henry's lawful heir ; When to his stile to add more words, They 'd better call him King of Birds, Than of the great Navarre. He hath besides a pretty quirk, Taught him by Nature, how to work In iron with much ease. Sometimes to the forge he goes, There he knocks, and there he blows, And makes both locks and keys : 18 Louis the XHIth, for no superior virtues surnamed " Le Juste." I have seen .it somewhere observed that he chose his ministers for extraordinary reasons: Richlieu, because he could not govern his kingdom without him ; Des Noyers, for psalm-singing; and le due de Zuynes, for being an expert bird-catcher. The satire of Corbet seems to justify the remark. He was born 1601 ; married Anne of Austria 1615 ; and died at St. Germain's 16-13. 101 Which puts a doubt in every one, Whether he be Mars or Vulcan's son, Some few believe his mother. But let them all say what they will, I came resolv'd, and so think still, As much the one as tU' other. The people, too, dislike the youth, Alledgii^r reasons, for, in truth, Mothers should honoured be : Yet others say, he loves her rather As well as ere she i*vd his father, And that >s notoriously. His queen, a pretty little wench, Was born in Spain, speaks little French, She 's nere like to be mother : For her incestuous house could not Have children which were not begot By uncle or by brother. 102 INow why should Lewis, being so just, Content himself to take his lust With his Lucina's mate; And suffer his little pretty queen. From all her race that yet hath been, So to degenerate ? 'T were charity for to be known To love others children as his rvvn, And why ? It is *u> shame ; Unless that he would Beater be Than was his father Henery, Who, men thought, did the same. 103 JOHN HAMMON. JOHN HAMMON, M. A., to whom the following "Exhortation" is addressed^ was instituted to the rectory of Bibbcsford and chapel of Bewdley in Worcestershire the 2d of March 1614, on the pre- sentation of sir William Cook. The new zeal with which he was inspired arose most probably from the intrusion of the " Book of 'Sports," by James, in 1618 19 , in which the king's pleasure is declared, * ( that, after the end of divine service, * *9 Upon a similar declaration being issued by Charles in 1633, " one Dr. Dennison," says lord StrafFord's garrulous correspondent, " read it here (London), and presently after read the ten commandments ; then said, Dearly beloved, you have now heard the commandments of God and man : obey which you please.' " Strafford Papers, voL i. 166. foL 104 our good people be not disturbed, letted or dis- couraged from any lawfull recreation; such as dauncing, either men or women ; archerie for men, leaping, vaulting, or any other such harmlesse recreation ; nor from having of May games, Wit- son ales, and Morris dances, and the setting up of Maypoles and other sports therein used ; and that women shall have leave to carry rushes to the church for the decoring of it, according tp their Id custome." 105 AN EXHORTATION TO MR. JOHN HAMMON, MINISTER IN THE PARISH OF BEWDLT, for the lattering downs of the Vanity es of the Gen- tiles, which are comprehended in a Maypole. Written by a Zealous Brother from the Black-fryer*. THE mighty zeale which thou hast new put on, Neither by prophet nor by prophetts sonne As yet prevented, doth transport mee so Beyond my selfe, that, though I ne're could go Farr in a verse, and all rithmes have defy'd Sincp Hopkins and old Thomas Stemhold dy'de, 106 (Except it were that little paines I tooke To please good people in a prayer-booke That I' sett forth, or so) yet must I raise My spirit for thee, who shall in thy praise Gird up her loynes, and furiously rim All kinde of feet, save Satans cloven one. Such is thy zeale, so well dost thou express it, That, (wer 't not like acharme,) I'de say, Christ blesse it. I needs must say 't is a spirituall thing To raile against a bishopp, or the king ; Nor are they meane adventures wee have bin in, About the wearing of the churches linncn ; But these were private quarrells : this doth fall Within the compass of the generall. Whether it be a pole painfed, and wrought Farr otherwise, then from the wood 'twas brought, Whose head the idoll-makers hand doth croppe, Where a lewM bird, towring upon the topp. 107 Lookes like the calfe at Horeb ; at whose root The unyoak't youth doth exercise his foote ; Or whether it reserve his boughes, befreinded By neighb'ring bushes, and by them attended : How canst thou chuse but seeing it complaine, That Baalls worship't in the groves againe ? Tell mee how curst an egging, what a sting Of lust do their unwildy daunces bring ? The simple wretches say they meanc no harme, / They doe not, surely ; but their actions warnie Our purer blonds the more : for Suthan thus Tempts us the more, that arc more righteous. Oft hath a Brother most sincerely gon, Stifled in prayer and contemplation, When lighting on the place where such repaire, < He viewes the nimphes, and is quite out in *s prayer. Oft hath a Sister, grownded in the truth, Seeing the jolly carriage of the youth, 108 Bin tempted to the way that 's broad and bad ; And (wert not for our private pleasures) had Renounc't her little ruffe, and goggle eye, And quitt her selfe of the Fraternity. What is the mirth, what is the melody, That setts them in this Gentiles vanity ? When in our sinagogue wee rayle at sinne, And tell men of the faults which they are in, With hand and voice so following our theames, That wee put out the side-men from their dreames. Sounds not thepulpett, which wee then be-labour, Better, and holyer, then doth the tabour ? I Yet, such is unregenerate mans folly, Hee loves the wicked noyse, and hates the holy. Routes and wilde pleasures doe invite temptation, And this is dangerous for our damnation \ Wee must not move our selves, but, if w' are mov'd, Man is but man ; and therefore those that lov'd 109 Still to seeme good, would eyermore dispence With their owne faults, so they gave no offence, If the times sweete entising, and the blood That now begins to boyle, have thought it good To challenge Liberty and Recreation, Let it be done in holy contemplation : Brothers and Sisters in the feilds may walke. Beginning of the Holy Worde to talke, Of David, and Uriahs lovely wife, Of Thamar, and her Instf ull brothers strife ; Then, underneath the hedge that woos them next, They may sitt downc, and there act out the text. Nor do wee want, how ere wee live austeere, In winter Sabbath.nights our lusty cheere ; And though the pastors grace, which oft doth hold Halfe an how re long, make the provision cold, Wee can be merry ; thinking 't nere the worse To mend the matter at the second course. Chapters are read, and hymnes are sweetly sung, Joyntly commanded by the nose and tongue; 110 Then* on the Worde wee diversly dilate^ Wrangling indeed for heat of zeale, not hate : When at the length an unappeased doubt Feircely comes in, and then the light goes out 5 Darkness thus Koikes our peace, and wee coti- taine Our fyery spiritfs till we, see againe. Till then, no voice is heard, no tongue doth goe,j Except a tender Sister shreike, or so. Such should be our delights, grave and demure, Not so abominable, not so impure, As those thou seek'st to hinder, bat I feare Satan will bee too strong ; his kingdome's here : Few are the righteous now, nor do I know How wee shall ere this itloll overthrow ; Since our sincerest patron is deceas't. The number of the righteous is decreast. But wee do hope these times will on, and breed A faction mighty for us ; for indeede Ill Wee labour all, and every Sister joynes To have regenerate babes spring from our loynes : Besides, what many carefully have done, Getting the unrighteous man, a righteous sonne. Then stoutly on, let not thy flocke range lewdly In their old vanity, thon lampe of Bewdly. One thing I pray thee ; do not too much thirst After Idolatryes last fall ; but first Follow this suite more close, let it not goe Till it be thine as thou would'st have 't : for soe Thy successors, upon the same entayle, Hereafter, may take up the Whitson-ale. . . 112 ANNE, WIFE OF JAMES THE FIRST, ^Daughter of Frederick the Second, king of Denmark^ died of a dropsy the 2d of March 1619. ON the 18th of November 1618, a comet (as al- luded to in a foregoing poem) was seen in Libra, which continued visible till the 16th of December; and the vulgar, who think Nunquam futilibus excanduit ignibus xthef, considered it indicative of great misfortunes ; and the death of the queen which closely follo-vved, the first object of its portentous mission. " The queen was in her great condition," sayi Wilson, u a good woman, not tempted from that height she stood on to embroyl her spirit much with things below her, only giving herself content 113 in her own house with such recreations as might not make time 7 tedious unto her; and though great persons' actions are often pried into, and made envy's mark, yet nothing could be fixed upon her that left any great impression, but that she may have engraven upon her monument a character of virtue." 114 AN ELEGY UPON THE DEATH OF QUEENE ANNE. NOE ', not a quatch, sad poets 5 doubt you. There is not greife enough without you ? Or that it will asswage ill newes, To say, Shee's dead, that was your muse? Joine not with Death to make these times More grievous then most grievous rimes. And if t be possible, deare eyes, The famous Universityes, If both your eyes bee matches, sleepe ; Or, if you will be loyall, weepe : 115 For-beare the press, there's none will looke Before the mart for a new booke. Why should you tell the world what witts Grow at New-parkes, or Campus-pitts ? Or what conceipts youth stumble on, Taking the ayre towards Trumpington ? Nor you, grave tutours, who doe temper Your long and short with que and semper ; O doe not, when your owne are done, Make for my ladyes eldest sonne Verses, which he will turne to prose, When he shall read what you compose : Nor, for an epithite that failes, Bite off your unpoeticke nailes. Unjust ! Why should you in these vaines, Punish your fingers for your braines ? Know henceforth, that griefes vitall part Consists in nature, not in art : 116 And verses that are studied Mourne for themselves, not for the dead. Heark, the Queenes epitaph shall bee Noe dther 'then her pedigree : For lines in bloud cutt out are stronger Then lines in marble, and last longer : And such a verse shall never fade, That is begotten, and not made. " Her father, brother, husband,. ...Binges ; Royall relations ! from her springes A prince and princesse ; and from those Faire certaintyes, and rich hope growes." Here 's poetry shall be secure While Britaine, Denmarke, Rheine endure : Enough on earth ; what purchase higher, Save heaven, to perfect her desire ? And as a straying starr intic't And governd those wise-men to Christ, 117 Ev'n soe a herauld-starr this yeare Did beckon to her to appeare : A starr which did not to our nation Portend her death, but her translation : For when such harbingers are scene, God crownes a saint, not kills a queene. 118 VINCENT CORBET, WHO, from causes which I have not conclusively ascertained, assumed the name of Poynter, was one of those by whose experience and information sir Hugh Platt, at a period when the horticultural arts in this country were in their infancy, was enabled to publish his Garden of Eden." The beautiful "Epitaph" of Ben Jonson, and the fol- lowing a Elegy," are high testimonials of his ami- able and virtuous disposition. His father's name I have not learned ; but his mother, whose name was Rose, was buried at Twickenham, September the 13th, 1611, and the register of the same parish proves that her son pursued her path the 29th April, 1619. Among other legacies, he bequeathed to the poor" of Twickenham forty shillings, to be paid 119 immediately after his decease ; and four loads of charcoal, to be distributed at the discretion of tfye churchwardens. These bequests are overlooked by Ironside and Lysons, and I am happy in re- cording the father of bishop Corbet as a bene- factor to my native village. Nescis qua natale solum dulcedine captos Ducit, et immemores non siuit esse sui. 120 AN ELEGIE UPON THE DEATH OF HIS OWNE FATHER. VINCENT CORBET, farther knowne By Poynters name, then by his owne. Here lyes ingaged till the day Of raising bones, and quickning clay. Nor wonder, reader, that he hath Two surnames in his epitaph ; For this one did comprehend All that two familyes could lend : And if to know more arts then any Could multiply one into many, Here a colony lyes, then, Both of qualityes and men. Yeares he liv'd well nigh fourscore ; But count his vertues, he liy'd more ; And number him by doeing good, He liv'd their age beyond the Flood. 121 Should wee undertake his story, Truth would seeme fain'd, and plainesse glory Beside, this tablet were too small. Add to the pillers and the wall. Yet of this volume much is found. Written in many a fertill ground ; Where the printer thee affords Earth for paper, trees for words. He was Natures factour here, And legier lay for every sheire ; To supply the ingenious wants Of some spring-fruites, and forraignc plants. Simple he was, and wise withall ; His purse nor base, nor prodigall ; Poorer in substance then in freinds ; Future and publicke were his endes ; His conscience, like his dyett, such As neither tooke nor left too much : Soe that made lawes were uselesse.growne To him, he needed but his owne. HS Rid he his neighbours bid, like those That feast them only to enclose ? Or with their rost meate racke their rents, And cozen them with their consents ? Noe ; the free meetings at his boord Did but one litterall sence afforde ; Noe close or aker understood. Bat only love and neighbourhood. His alms were such as Paul defines, Not causes to be said, but signes ; Which alms, by faith, hope, love, iaiddocrih. Laid up what now he wears.... a crown. Besides his fame, his goods, his life, He left a greivM sonne, and a wife ; Straunge sorrow, not to be beleiv'd, \Vhenas the sonne and heire is greiv'd. Reade then, and mourne, what ere tliou art That doost hope to have a part In honest epitaphs ; least, being dead, Thy life bee written, and not read. J23 THE LADY'HADDINGTON first wife of John Ramsey, viscount Had. dington in Scotland, and daughter of Robert Rad- cliffe, earl of Sussex. Her marriage was cele- brated by Ben Jonson, in a masque presented at court on the Shrove-Tuesday at night (1608)*; and here is her monody by Corbet. She had two sons, Charles and James, and a daughter, Elizabeth, who all died young. Her father died without surviving issue, September 22J, 1629. Her husband, who was a great favourite with king James, survived her, and was created baron of Kingston upon Thames, and earl of Holdcrncss, 22 Jan. 1620-1. He had a second wife, daughter of sir William Cockayne, alderman of London 41 : But his first lady, the subject of the present article, was evidently dead before his elevation to the English peerage. 30 Whalley's Ben Jonson, vol. v. 299. 121 Dugdale's Baronage, vol. ii. p. 444. AN ELEG1E UPON THE DEATH OF THE LADY HADDINGTON, WHO DIED OF THE SMALL POX. DEARE losse, to tell the world I greive were true. But that were to lament my selfe, not you ; That were to cry out helpe for my affaires, For which nor publick thought, nor private, cares : No 5 when thy fate I publish amongst men, I should have power, and write with the States pen : I should in naming thee force publicke teares, And bid their eyes pay ransome for their eares. 125 First, thy whole life was a short feast of witt, 1 And Death th' attendant which did waite on it : To both mankind doth owe devotion ample, To that their firs^ to this their last example. And though J t were praise enough (with them whose fame And ertue 's nothing but an ample name) That thou wert highly borne, (which no man doubtes) And so mightst swath base deedes in noble cloutes ; Yet thou thy selfe in titles didst not shroud, And being noble, wast nor foole, nor proud ; And when thy youth was ripe, when now the suite Of all the longing court was for thy fruit, How wisely didst thou choose ! Foure blessed eyes, The kings and thine, had taught thee to be wise. Did not the best of men thee virgin give Into his handes, by which himselfe did live ? 126 t Nor didst thou two yeares after talke of force, Or, lady -like, make suit for a divorce : Who, when their owne wilde lust is falsely spent, Cry but, " My lord, my lord is impotent." Nor hast thou in his nuptiall armes enjoy 'd Barren imbraces, but wert girl'd and boy'd : Twice -pretty, ones thrica worthier were their youth Might shee but bring them up, that brought them forth : Shee would have taught them by a thousand straines, (Her bloud runns in their manners, not their veines) That glory is a lye ; state a grave sport ; And country sicknesse above health at court. Oh what a want of her loose gallants have, Since shee hath chang'd her window for a grave ; From whence shee us'd to dart out witt so fast, And stick them in their coaches as they past ! 127 Who now shall make well-colour'd rice looke pale ? Or a curPd meteor with her eyes exhale, And talke him into nothing ? Who shall dare Tell barren braines they dwell in fertill haire ? Who now shall keepe ould countesses in awe, And, by tart similyes, repentance draw From those, whome preachers had given ore ? Even such Whome sermons could not reach, her arrowes touch. Hereafter, fooles shall prosper with applaase, And wise men smile, and no man aske the cause : Jlee of fourescore, three night capps, and twa haires, Shall marry her of twenty, and get heyres Which shall be thought his owne ; and none shall say But tis a wondrous blessing, and he may. 128 Now (which is more then pitty) many a knight, Which can doe more then quarrell, less then fight. Shall choose his weapons, ground ; draw seconds thither, Put up his sword, and not be laught at neyther. Oh thou deform'd unwoeman-like disease, That plowst up flesh and bloud, and there sow'st pease, And leav'st such printes on beauty, that dost come* As clouted shon do on a floore of lome ; Thou that of faces hony-combes dost make, And of two breasts two cullenders, forsake Thy deadly trade ; thou now art rich, give ore, And let our curses call thee forth no more. Or, if thou needs will magnify thy power, Goe where thou art invoked every houre Amongst the gamsters, where they name thee thicke At the last maine, or the last pocky nicke. 129 Get thee a lodging neare thy clyent, dice, There thou shalt practice on more then one vice. There 's wherewithal! to entertaine the pox. There 's more then reason, there 's rime for 't, the box. Thou who hast such superfluous store of game, Why struckst thou one whose ruine is thy shame ? O, thou hast murdred where thou shouldst have kist; And, where thy shaft was needful!, there it mist. Thou shouldst have chosen out some homely face, Where thy ill-favour'd kindnesse might adde grace, That men might say, How beauteous once was shee ! Or, What a peece, ere shee was seaz'd by thee ! Thou shouldst have wrought on some such ladyes mould That ne're did love her lord, nor ever could Untill shee were deform'd, thy tyranny Were then within the rules of charity. 130 But upon one whose beauty was above All sort of art, whose lore was more then love, On her to fix thy ugly counterfeit, Was to erect a pyramide of jett, And put out fire to digg a turfe from hell. And place it where a gentle soule should dwell : A soule which in the body would not stay, When twas noe more a body, nor good clay, But a huge ulcer. O thou heav'nly race, Thou soule that shunn'st th' infection of thy case, Thy house, thy prison, pure soule, spotless, faire ; Rest where no heat, no cold, no compounds are ! Rest in that country, and injoy that ease, Which thy frayle flesh deny'de, and her disease ! 131 ON THE CHRIST-CHURCH PLAY. THE failure of success in the representation of this play has been detailed in the Life of the Bishop : indeed it seems to have subjected the Oxonians to much ridicule, which the elegant bishop King M joined with Corbet in retorting. One of the nu- merous banters on this occasion is recorded by Wood, and deserves to be preserved : " At Christ -Church ' Marriage,' done before the king 1 , Lest that those mates should want an offering, The king himself did offer What ? I pray. He offer'd twice or thrice to go away." See his Poems, p. 1657. ON CHRIST-CHURCH PLAY AT WOODSTOCK. IF wee, at Woodstock, haje not pleased those, Whose clamorous judgments lye in urging noes, And, for the want of whifflers, have destroyed Th' applause, which wee with vizards hadd en- Wee are not sorry ; for such witts as these Libell our windowes oft'ner then our playes ; Or, if their patience be moov'd, whose lipps Deserve the knowledge of the proctorships, Or judge by houses, as their howses goe, Not caring if their cause be good or noe ; Nor by desert or fortune can be drawne To credit us, for feare they loose their pawne ; 133 Wee are not greatly sorry ; but if any. Free from the yoake of the ingaged many, That dare speake truth even when their head stands by, Or when the seniors spoone is jn the pye ; Nor to commend the worthy will forbeare, Ihough he of Cambridge, or of Christ-church And not of his owne collcdge ; and will shame To wrong the person, for his howse, or name ; If any such be giiv'd, then downe proud spirit; If not, know, number never conquer'd merit. 134 THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. OF the romantic expedition to Spain of " Baby Charles and Stennie" an account is given by Cla- rendon, and a more minute narrative by Arthur Wilson in his Life of James. The voyage *'as conducted with great secrecy, and very ^ew at- tendants : but it is worthy remark, tfiat Archee <{ the princes fool-man" was one of the party. Ho well, who was at Madrid at the time, says, " Our cousin Archy hath more privilege than any, for he often goes with his fool's-coat where the Ififanta is with her Meninas and ladies of honour, and keeps a blowing and blustering amongst them, and flurts out what he list. " One of his " Hurts" at the Spaniards is related in the same page 81 . 2 3 Howell's Letters, p. 64. ed. 1650. This fool, quasi knave, whose surname was Armstrong, had his coat pulled over hi* ears, and was discharged of his office, for indignity to archbishop Laud. See Rushworth's Collections, vol. ii. p, 471. 135 The poem, as far as it describes the various ru- mours during the absence of the parties, a period of great consternation, is curious : the report of Buckingham's " difference with the Cond' Oli- vares " rests upon better authority than the then opinion of the poet. They left the court Feb. 17th, and returned to England the 5th Oct. 1623. 136 A LETTER TO THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, BEING WITH THE PRINCE IN SPAINE. I 'VE read of Hands floating and remoy'd In Ovids time, but never heard it prov'd Till now : that fable, by the prince and you, By your transporting England, is made true. Wee are not where wee were; the dog-starr raignes No cooler in our climate, then in Spaines ; The selfe-same breath, same ayre, same heate, same burning, Is here, as there ; will be, till your returning : Come, e're the card be altered, lest perhaps Your stay may make an errour in our mapps ; 137 Lest England should be found, when you shall passe, A thousand miles more southward then it was. Oh that you were, my lord, oh that you were Now in Blackfryers, in a disguis'd haire ; That you were Smith againe, two houres to bee In Paules next Sunday, at full sea at three ; There you should heare the legend of each day, The perills of your inne, and of your way"; Your enterprises, accidents, untill You did arrive at court, and reach Madrill. There you should heare how the State-grandees flout you, With their twice-double diligence about you ; How our environ'd prince walkes with a guard Of Spanish spies, and his owne servants barr'd ; How not a chaplaine of his owne may stay When hee would heare a sermon preach'd, or pray. You would be hungry, having din'd, to heare The price 67 victuailes, and the scarcity, there ; 138 As if the prince had ventur'd there his life To make a famine, not to fetch a wife. Your eggs (which might be addle too) are deare As English capons ; capons as sheepe, here ; No grasse neither for cattle ; for they say It is not cutt and made, grasse there growes hay : That 't is soe seething hott in Spaine, they sweare They never heard of a raw oyster there : Your cold meate comes in reaking, and your wine Is all burnt sack, the fire was in the vine ; Item, your pullets are distinguish't there Into foure quarters, as wee carve the yeare, And are a weeke a wasting : Munday noone A wing ; at supper something with a spoone ; Tuesday a legg, and soe forth ; Sunday more, The liver and a gizard betweene foure : And for your mutton, in the best houshoulder >T is felony to cheapen a whole shoulder. Lord ! how our stomackes come to us againe, When wee conceive what snatching is in Spaine ! 139 I, whilst I write, and doe the newcs repeate, Am forc't to call for breakfast in, and eate : And doe you wonder at the dearth the while ? The flouds that make it run in th' middle ilc. Poets of Paules, those of duke Humfryes messe, That feede on nought but graves and cinplinesse. But heark you, noble sir, in one crosse weeke My lord hath lost a thowsand pound at gleeke ; And though they doe allow but little meate, They are content your losses should be great. False, on my deanery ! falser then your fare is; Or then your difference with Cond' de Olivares, Which was reported strongly for one tyde, But, after six houres floating, ebb'd and dyde. If God would not this great designe should be Perfect and round without some knavery, Nor that our prince should end this enterprize, But for soe many miles, soe many lyes : If for a good event the Heav'ns doe please Mens tongues should become rougher then the seas, 140 And that th' expence of paper shall be such, First written, then translated out of Dutch : Corantoes, diets, packets, newes, more newes, Which soe much innocent whitenesse doth abuse; If first the Belgicke 94 pismire must be scene, Before the Spanish lady be our queene ; With such successe, and such an end at last, All 's wellcome, pleasant, gratefull, that is past. And such an end wee pray that you should see, A type of that which mother Zebedee Wisht for her sonnes in heav'n ; the prince and you At either hand of James, (you need not sue) Hee on the right, you on the left, the king Safe in the mids't, you both inyironing. 2 4 This refers to a popular tract published in 1622, under that title, in favour of the Low Countries, and for the purpose of prejudicing the people of England against the' marriage which Villiers was negotiating when this poem was addressed to him. The negotiation was not only disgraceful, but unsuccessful: 141 Then shall I tell my lord, his word and band Are forfeit, till I kisse the princes hand ; Then shall I tell the duke, your royall friend Gave all the other honours, this you earn'd ; This you have wrought for ; this you hammer'd out Like a strong Smith, good workman and a stout. In this I have a part, in this I see Some new addition smiling upon mee : Who, in an humble distance, claime a share In all your greatnesse, what soe ere you arc. 142 RICHARD, THE THIRD EARL OF DORSET, Is described by his wife, the celebrated lady Anne Clifford, daughter of George earl of Cumberland, in the manuscript memoirs of her life, as a man u in his own nature of a just mind, of a sweet dis- position, and very valiant in his own person. He had a great advantage in his breeding, by the wisdom and devotion of his grandfather, Thomas Sackvillc, earl of Dorset, and lord high treasurer of England, who was then held one of the wisest of that time ; by which means he was so good a scholar in all manner of learning, that, in his youth, \vhen he was at the university, there was none of the young nobility then students there that excelled him. He was also a good patriot to bis country, and generally well beloved in it ; 143 much esteemecMn all the parliaments that sat in his time, and so great a lover of scholars and sol- diers, as that, with an excessive bounty towards them, or indeed any of worth that were in di- stress, he did much dimmish his estate ; and also with excessive prodigality in house-keeping, and other noble ways at court, as tilting, masking, and the like : prince Henry being then alive, who was much adicted to those noble exercises, and of whom he was much beloved." He died at the age of 35, March 28th, 1624. I should be very unwilling to deprive Corbet of the praise due to a poem of so much intrinsic merit; but as the following epitaph is printed among the poems of his contemporary, King, bi- shop of Chichester, and again attributed to the latter in MS. Ashmole, A 35, Corbet's claim to the composition of it is rendered very disputable. 144; ON THE EARL OF DORSETS DEATH, LET no prophane, ignoble foot tread here. This hallowed piece of earth, Dorset lyes there A small poor relique of a noble spirit, Free as the air, and ample as his merit : A soul refin'd, no proud forgetting lord, But mindful of mean names, and of his word : Who lov'd men for his honour, not his ends. And had the noblest way of getting friends By loving first, and yet who knew the court, But understood it better by report Than practice : he nothing took from thence But the kings favour for his recompence. Who, for religion or his countreys good, -Neither his honour valued, nor his blood. 145 Rich in the worlds opinion, and mens praise. And full in all we could desire, but days. He that is warn'd of this, and shall forbear To vent a sigh for him, or shed a tear, May he live long scorn'd, and unpitied fall, And want a mourner at his funeral ! 146 TO THE NEW-BORNE PRINCE, AFTERWARDS CHARLES II. (Born May 29th '5, 1630; died 6th of February, 1684-5.) UPON THE APPARITION OF A STARR, AND THE FOLLOWING ECCLYPSE. WAS heay'ne afray'd to be out-done on earth When thou wert borne, great prince, that it brought forth Another light to helpe the aged sunn, Lest by thy luster he might be out-shone ? *s On the 29th of May," says sir Richard Baker, "the queen was brought to bed of a young son, which was bap- tized at St. James's on the 27th of June, and named Charles. It is observed that at his nativity, at London, was seen a star about noon-time : what it portended, good or ill, we leave to the astrologers." Baker's Chronicle, p. 497. 1G60. fol. 147 Or were th' obsequious starres so joy'd to view Thee, that they thought their countlesse eyes too few For such an object; and would'iieedes create A better influence to attend thy state ? Or would the Fates thereby shew to the earth A Caesars birth, as once a Cajsars death ? And was't that newes that made pale Cynthia run In so great hast to intercept the sunn ; And, enviously, so shee might gaine thy sight, Would darken him from whomeshee had her light ? Mysterious prodigies yet sure they bee, Prognosticks of a rare prosperity : For, can thy life promise lesse good to men, Whose birth was th' envy, and the care of heav'ne ? 148 ON THE BIRTH OF THE YOUNG PRINCE CHARLES. WHEN private mengett sonnes they get a spoone* 8 , Without ecclypse, or any starr at noone : When kings gett sonnes, they get withall supplyes And succours, farr beyond all subsedyes. Wellcome, Gods loane ! thou tribute to the State, Thou mony neM r ly coyn'd, thou fleete of plate ! Thrice happy childe ! whome God thy father sent To make him rich without a parliament! 06 If any one is at this time ignorant of the practice al- luded to in this line, of the sponsors at christenings giving spoons to the child as a baptismal present, it is not the fault of the commentators on Shakespeare, who have multi- plied examples of the custom in their notes on Henry the Eighth, vol. xv. p. 197. edit. 1803. 149 VINCENT CORBET, THE only son of the poet, was bora (if the au- thority of a manuscript in the Ilarlcian collection may be relied upon, in which this pathetic ad- dress appears,) on the 10th of November, 1627. From the following injunction in the bishop'* will 47 , it seems he was educated at one of the universities : "I commit and commend the nur- ture and maintenance of my sonne and daughter unto the faythfull and loving care of my mother- in-law, declaring my intent, &c., that my sonne be placed at Oxford or Cambridge, where I re- quire him, upon my blessing, to apply himself to his booke studiously and industriously." In 1648 he administered to the will 98 of his grandmother Anne Button ; and of the further circumstances of his life I am ignorant. 7 Reg. Prerog. Court Cant. Sadler 97. 38 Ibid. Rivers 18. 150 TO HIS SON, VINCENT CORBET, On his BIRTH-DAY, November 10, 1630, being then Three Years old. WHAT I shall leave thee none can teU, But all shall say I wish thee well ; I wish thee, Vin, before all wealth, Both bodily and ghostly health : Nor too much wealth, nor wit, come to thee, So much of either may undo thee. I wish thee learning, not for show, Enough for to instruct, and know ; Not such as gentlemen require, To prate at table, or at fire. I wish thee all thy mothers graces, Thy fathers fortunes, and his places. I wish thee friends, and one at court. Not to build on, but support ; 151 To keep thee, not in doing many Oppressions, but from suffering any. I wish thee peace in all thy ways. Nor lazy nor contentious days ; And when thy soul and body part, As innocent as now thou art 29 . 2 9 Cartwright has not unhappily imitated this poem in his address To Mr. W. B. at the Birth of his first Child :" a few lines may be given : I wish religion timely be Taught him with his ABC. I wish him good and constant health, His father's learning, but more wealth, And that to use, not hoard ; a purse Open to bless, not shut to curse. May he have many and fast friends Meaning good will, not private ends ! &c. Poem, p. 208. 8vo. 1651. AN EPITAPH ON Du. DONNE, DEAN OF PAULS, Born in 1573; died March 31, 1631. HE that would write an epitaph for thee, - And do it well, must first begin to be Such as thou wert ; for none can truly know Thy worth, thy life, but he that hath liv'd so. He must have wit to spare, and to hurl down Enough to keep the gallants of the town ; He must hare learning plenty, both the laws Civil and common, to judge any cause; Divinity great store, above the rest, Not of the last edition, but the best. He must have language, travel, all the arts, Judgment to use, or else he wants thy parts : 153 He must have friends the highest, able to do. Such as Mecaenas and Augustus too. He must have such a sickness, such a death, Or else his vain descriptions come beneath. Who then shall write an epitaph for thee, He must be dead first; left alone for me. 154 CERTAIN FEW WOORDES SPOKEN CONCERNINGE ONE BE NET CORBETT AFTER HER DECEASE. She died October the 2d, Anno 1634. (From MS. Harl. No. 464.) HERE, or not many feet from hence. The virtue lies call'd Patience. Sickness and Death did do her honour By loosing paine and feare upon her. Tis true they forst her to a grave. That's all the triumph that they have.,.. A silly one.... Retreat o'er night Proves conquest in the morning-fight : 155 She will rise up against them both.... All sleep, believe it, is not sloth. And, thou that read'st her elegie. Take something of her historic : She had one husband and one sonne ; Ask who they were, and then have doone. 156 ITER BOREALE SEEMS a sort of imitation of Horace's Brundusiaii journey. Davenant has (e a journey into Wor- cestershire" (page 215. fol. edit.) in a similar vein, says Headley. If the popularity of this poem may be estimated by the frequency of manuscript copies in the public libraries, we may conclude it was valued very highly, as the transcripts of it are very numerous. Misled by one of these, I considered this poem, the longest and most celebrated of bishop Corbet's productions, to have been written in 1625 : sub- sequent examination has induced me to place the date of its composition considerably earlier : the reasons on which this opinion is grounded, will be detailed in the following analysis of the Tour. 157 OUR author commences his journey from Ox- ford in a company consisting of four persons, two of whom then were, and two of whom wished to be, doctors : but there is nothing in the course of the tour to show us which of the classes he be- longed to, unless we are to suppose, from the shortness of cash which discovers itself before the termination of his adventures, that he was rather one of those who had wealth in expectancy than in possession. They set off on the 10th of August, and, long as the days are about that period, had a good chance of sharpening their appetites by their firsthalf-day's ride, thirty miles beforedinner, when they sat down 30 to dine with Dr. Christopher Middleton, at his rectory of Ashton on the Wall in Northampton- shire, about eight miles north of Banbury ; w r here we learn that their entertainment was better than the looks of their host, whom they left in the 158 12 evening, and rode to Flore, about twelve miles north-east, and took up their lodgings for the night. At Flore they were entertained by a country surgeon, or (in the vulgar phrase) bone-setter, the tenant of Dr. Leonard Hutton, the rector of Flore and dean of Christ-Church, who fed them upon venison. The third morning they set off for Daventry, 5 about five miles. Here it happened to be the market- and lecture-day : and after having washed down the dust which their throats had acquired in the ride, one of them was summoned by the Serjeant at mace to deHver the lecture ; for which they were all rewarded with thanks and wine. The fourth morning they rode to Luttcrworth 16 in Leicestershire, about sixteen miles. This was once the benefice of Wicklifle, the father of English reformers ; and here the tourist very properly remarks on the double injustice done to that ve- 159 nerable character, first by the Papists in burning his body, and afterwards by the Puritans in de- stroying the sacred memorial of the interment of his ashes. At Lutterworth they were met by a parson, who though well-beneficed was better- mannered, and was their guide to his dwelling within a mile of Leicester. A note on the older editions of Corbet calls this gentleman the Parson of Heathcot : but there is no place of the name of Heathcot in that neighbourhood ; and as, by comparison with other parts of the tour in which miles are mentioned, one mile will be invariably found to signify one and a half at the least ; and as less than two reputed miles is accounted only one mile in the distance of places, I presume it was Aylcston, and not Heathcot, where the party rested, and were regaled with stale beer. At length they arrived at Leicester, thirteen miles north 13 of Lutterworth, where, passing over six steeples and two hospitals, (" one hospital twice told,") 160 which he refers to the eye of Camden, he censures the ignorance of the alms-man, who, notwith- standing it was written on the walls that Henry of Grisemont laid the foundation, told them it was John of Gaunt. Henry Plantagenet, earl of Lancaster, was the first founder of the hospital in the Newark at Leicester in the year 1330, which was considerably enlarged and improTed, and converted into a college by his son Henry, the good duke of Lancaster, in 1355 j but there is a more general sense in which the word Founder is used, namely, that in which it is extended to all those who inherit, either by descent or by pur- chase, the patronage under the original founder. And in this sense it may be applied to John of Gaunt, the second duke of Lancaster, who married his near kinswoman the heiress of the former duke, and perfected both in buildings and endow- ments what the others had commenced. The other hospital alluded to, is that founded by 161 William Wigston, merchant of the Staple, about 1520. The tourist next observes on the extortion of the innkeeper, who, reckoning by the number of his guests rather than the goodness of his provi- sion, charged them seven shillings and sixpence for bread and beer; but, after a kindly caution to the publican to forbear such cozenage upon Di- vines in future, lest they should be suspected of drinking as freely as he charges them, turns from a subject so unworthy of his Pegasus in disgust, and inquires if this be not the burial-place of Richard the Third ; and, finding that there is no memorial for him, moralizes upon the neglected state in which he lies, as the eventual fate of all greatness : then from Richard proceeds to Wolsey, who was also buried at Leicester, and produces similar reflections; and from Wolsey, to William the ostler of the inn, who outdoes the company in years as well as drink, anJ calls them to horse M 162 as imperiously as if he had a warrant from the earl of Nottingham. The earl of Nottingham here glanced at was Charles lord Howard of Effingham, lord high ad- miral of England under queen Elizabeth and king James the First. He died in 1624. 25 From Leicester to Nottingham (twenty-five miles) the travellers pass without noticing any thing on their way, until approaching the latter place they cross the Trent, pray to St. Andrew as they ride up hill into the town, and observe that the people burrow, like conies, in caverns, from whence the smoke ascends at the feet of the wo- man who stands on the surface watching, down the diimney, the cooking of her dinner. The part of the town at which they enter is described as the Rocky Parish, higher than the rest; and the church of St. Mary, as embracing her Baby in her arms. From hence they proceed to the Castle, which is described as a ruin, with two statues of giants at the 163 gates, whom the tourist severely censures for their negligence in permitting their charge to come to ruin, and reproaches them with the fidelity of the giants at Guildhall and Holmeby, who had care- fully kept the buildings committed to their charge when the founders were dead. The poet might still compliment the giants at Guildhall ; but of Holmeby (Holdenby House, Northamptonshire, built by queen Elizabeth's lord chancellor, sir Christopher Hatton,') not one stone remains upon another : nay, the very memory of the giants might have perished but for the Iter Boreale. The travellers then go to dinner at the Bull's Head, where the archbishop of York had been Jbefore them, and where their discontent with bed and diet was answered by a reference to the satis- faction which he had received; and where the aged landlord, formerly an ostler, is noticed as a rare example to those who have an itch for gold. Their next stage was to Newark, (about twenty 20 M2 164 miles, or, according to the reckoning of the poet, twelve), which is spoken of as no journey, but only a walk ; and the banks of the Trent as so fertile and beautiful, that the English river takes away the palm from the celebrated Meander. The pleasure of this part of their journey was not diminished by their reception at Newark, where they met with a friend, out of respect to whom the town united as a family to give the travellers a hearty welcome ; and even the landlord of one inn did not repine that they had passed his house to go to another, and the landlord of the inn where they rested was more solicitous of their appro- bation than his own profit. The very beggars rather prayed for their friend than begged of his guests, and the Puritans were willing to " let the organs play," if the visitors would tarry. From Newark they saw Bever (Belvoir) and Lincoln, and would fain have gone there but for the limitation on their purse and horses. At three 165 o'clock they set off, with twenty (thirty) miles to ride, (probably to Melton Mowbray) ; and having neither guide, nor horse of speed, after losing their way, two hours after sun-set blundered upon a village, from whence they obtained a guide to LoughborougTi. From thence they set off next morning for Bosworth, (eighteen miles,) but in their way thither are lost in Charley Forest, and ask their way from the travellers they meet about the coal-mines at Coalorton, without receiving an answer ; when William, their attendant, seeing a man approach, imagines himself to be in Fairy- land. But the party are agreeably surprised by finding him one of the keepers of the forest, who conducts them within view of Bosworth. At Bosworth they meet with far better treat- ment than the appearance of the place had pro- mised ; and, when their host there, who was their guide the next morning, brought them near to the field on which the battle of Bosworth was 166 fought, are greatly amused by his romantic de- scription of the battle. The guide seems to leave them at Nuneaton in Warwickshire, six miles (about nine) from Bosworth, from whence they proceed to Coventry, nine miles ; and from thence, having scarcely had time to dine, depart for Kenilworth, five miles, where they are of- fended by the indecency of an aged parson, who attended the servant of the lord Leicester, it is presumed, to show them the Castle. The Castle of Kenilworth was once the splendid residence of Robert Dudley, earl of Leicester, one of the favourites of queen Elizabeth, and on his death, in 1588 ; passed to his son, Robert Dudley, who used the title of earl of Leicester, but by a decree of the Star-Chamber was declared to be illegiti- mate, and from disgust at that sentence retired into Italy, under a license for three years ; and being summoned by the privy-council, at the in. stigatjon of his enemies, to return into England^ 167 and refusing to obey the summons, the Castle of Kenilworth was, for his contumacy, seized by the Crown under the statute of Fugitives ; and Henry prince of Wales, in the year 1611, purchased a release of the inheritance of it from sir Robert Dudley, who was to have the constableship of the Castle, under prince Henry, for life. It does not appear, however, that sir Robert Dudley resided at Kenilworth afterwards : he probably had little regard for a place of which he had been compelled to relinquish the inheritance. This may account for the neglected state in which it was found by our poet and his companions. From Kenilworth they proceed to Warwick, three (five) miles, noticing in their way the Cave of the celebrated hero of English romance, Guy earl of Warwick, as also his Pillar : and at War- wick we have a humorous description of the land, lady of the inn. From the inn they proceed to the Castle, where they are received by " the lord 168 of all this frame, the honourable Chancellor," whose politeness and elegance of manners receive favourable notice. Sir Fulk Greville obtained a grant of Warwick Castle from king James the First, in the second year of his reign, (1604,) and was about the same time appointed chancellor of the exchequer ; and resigned his office of chan- cellor, on being elevated to the peerage by the title of lord Brooke, 19th of January, 1620-21. It may be observed, that the author of the Iter notices him as an honourable chancellor, not as noble lord ; which he certainly would have done if the Iter had not been of an earlier date than 1621. With sir Fulk Greville they found a prelate of the church, an archdeacon, whom a note in the old editions calls archdeacon Burton. This^ I presume, was Samuel Burton, A, M. of Christ- Church, Oxford, who paid first-fruits for the arch- deaconry of Gloucester, in the cathedral of Glou- cester, the 9th of May, 1607, and died the 14th 169 of June, 1634, and was buried at Dry-Drayton in Gloucestershire. He is described as sufficiently corpulent to deserve the displeasure of the Puri- tans, whom our author never loses an opportunity of lashing. From Warwick they arrive at Flore, (about twenty-one miles,) having been able to make both ends (of their purse) meet; and, after staying there four days, arrive at Banbury on St. Bartho- lomew's day, (24th of August,) desirous to see what sport the saint would produce there. At this place (where they rested at the sign of the Altar-Stone) the tourist finds the altar converted into an inn, and, judging by the sign, lodged in a chapel, but, by the wine, in a bankrupt ta- vern; and yet, by the coffins converted into horse- troughs, a church. But though you may judge, by what is found at the inn, that the church is full of monuments, you will be disappointed : for there was not an inscription in the church except 170 the names of the last year's churchwardens, with buckets and cobwebs hanging, instead of painted saints, in the windows. In short, the town seems to have been a strange collection of sectaries dif- fering from each other. From hence he returns to Oxford, twenty-two miles, with as little coin in his purse as sir Walter Raleigh brought from his unsuccessful expedition to Guiana in 1618 ; between which period and 1621 it is clear the poem was written. 171 ITER BOREALE. FOURE clerkes of Oxford, doctours two, and two That would be docters, having lesse to do With Augustine then with Galen in vacation, Chang'd studyes, and turn'd bookes to recreation : And on the tenth of August, northward bent A journey, not so soon conceiv'd as spent. The first halfe day they rode, they light upon A noble cleargy host, Kitt Middleton '; Who, numb'ring out good dishes with good tales, The major part o j th' cheere weigh'd downe the scales : 1 At Aston on the Wall, in Northamptonshire, where Christopher Middleton, as rector, accounted for the first- fruits Oct. 12th, 1612 ; and was buried Feb.Sth, 1627. 172 And though the countenance makes the feast, (say bookes,) Wee nere found better welcome with worse lookes. Here wee pay'd thankes and parted ; and at night Had entertainement, all in one mans right*, At Flore, a village ; where our tenant shee, Sharp as a winters morning, feirce yet free, With a leane visage, like a carved face On a court cupboard, offer'd up the place. s By the right of Dr. Leonard Hutton, a man of some note in his day, the fellow-collegian and subsequent father- in-la\v of bishop Corbet. Hutton passed from Westminster School to Christ-Church, of which he afterwards became a canon. It was in his residence at Oxford most probably, and not, as the editors of the Biographia Britannica have conjectured, upon this tour, that Corbet first became ac- quainted with Hutton 's daughter. By the dean and canons he was presented to the rectory of Flore in Northampton- shire, where he accounted for the first-fruits Aug. 6th, 1601, and to the vicarage of Weedon in the same county in 1602. Having lived to the age of 75 years, he died the 17th of May, 1^32, and was buried in the divinity chapel of Christ Church, where a monument remains to his me- mory. 173 Shee pleas'd us well ; but, yet, her husband better ; A harty fellow, and a good bone-setter s . Now, whether it were providence or lucke. Whether the keepers or the stealefs buckc, There wee had ven'son ; such as Virgill slew When he would feast ./Eneas and his crew. Here wee consum'd a day ; and the third morne To Daintry with a land-wind were wee borne. It was the market and the lecture-day, For lecturers sell sermons, as the lay Doe sheep and oxen ; have their seasons just For both their marketts : there wee dranke downe dust. In th' interim comes a most officious drudge*, His face and gowne drawne out with the same budge 5 His pendant pouch, which was both large and wide, Lookt like a letters-patent by his side : 3 A note in the old copies informs us that hi* name- was Ned Hale." * A sergeant. Edit. 1643, 174 He was as awfull, as he had bin sent From Moses with th' elev'nth commandement ; And one of us he sought ; a sonne of Flore He must bid stand, and challendge for an hower. The doctors both were quitted of that feare, The one was hoarce, the other was not there ; Wherefore him of the two he seazed, best Able to answere him of all the rest : Because hee neede but ruminate that ore Which he had chew'd the Sabbath-day before. And though he were rcsolv'd to doe him right, For Mr. Balyes sake, and Mr. Wright 4 , Yet he dissembled that the mace did erre ; That he nor deacon was, nor minister. No ! quoth the serjeant ; sure then, by relation, You have a licence, sir, or toleration : < These are said in the old copies to be " the minister* of Daventry ;" but as no such names occur in the list of incumbents, it is probable they officiated for Thomas Mariat, the then vicar, who must have been very old, as he was inducted to the living in 1560. 175 And if you have no orders 'tis the better, So you have Dods Praecepts, or Cleavers Letter 3 . Thus looking on his mace, and urging still Twas Mr. Wrights and Mr. Bayleyes will s Dod and Cleaver, thus honourably introduced to our notice, were united by the strong ties of puritanism and authorship. Ambo animis, ambo insignes praestantibus armis ; Hie pietate prior. The latter has fallen into oblivion, but the superior zeal of John Dod has preserved his memory. He wa* born at Shottledge in Cheshire, where his family had terri- torial possessions, and was educated at Jesus College, Cam- bridge. " He was," says Fuller, " by nature a witty, by industry a learned, by grace a godly, divine." He had good preferment in the church, but was silenced for non- conformity, though afterwards restored. He died and was buried at Fawesly in Northamptonshire, of which he was vicar, Aug. 19th, 1645. They were again joined in derision by Cartwright, in his " Chambermaid's Posset." Next Cleaver and Doddism both mired and fine, With five or six scruples of conscience cases. S;. Poems, p. 231. 8vo. 1051. 176 That hce should mount ; at last he condiscended To stopp the gapp ; and so the treaty ended. The sermon plcas'd, and, when we were to dine, Wee all had preachers wages, thankes and wine. Our next dayes stage was Lutterworth *, a towne Not willing to be noted or sett downe By any traveller ; for, when w' had bin Through at both ends, wee could not finde an inne: Yet, for the church sake, turne and light wee must 3 Hoping to see one dramme of Wickliffs dust *; * In Leicestershire. 6 A note in Tanners Bibliotheca Brit.-Hibernica thus relates the indignity offered to the remains of this parent of the Reformation, after he had been * quietly inurned' during the space of forty-one years : " Magister Johannes WicliffAnglicus per D.Thomam Arundel. archiepiscopum Cantuar. fuit post mortem suam excommunicatus, et postea fuit exhumatus, et ossa ejus combusta, et cineres in aquam juxta Lutterworth projecti fuerunt, ex raandato P. Mar- tini V." 177 > But wee found none : for underneath the pole Noe more rests of his body then his soule. Abused martyr ! how hast thou bin torne By two wilde factions ! Firsi, the Papists burne Thy bones for hate ; the Puritans, in zeale, They sell thy marble, and thy brasse they steale. A parson * mett us there, who had good store Of livings, some say, but of manners more ; In whose streight chearefull age a man might see Well govern'd fortune, bounty wise and free. He was our guide to Leister, save one mile, There was his dwelling, where wee stay'd awhile, And dranke stale beere, I thinke was never new, Which the dun wench that brought it us did brew. * Parson of Heathcot, Edit. 1672. It has been observed in the Introduction that there is no village of this name in this situation: the copy 1648 says Parson Heathcote, which was probably the name of the parson of Ayleston, who \vas their conductor. N 178 And uow wee are at Leister, where wee shall Leape ore six steeples, and one hospitall Twice told ; but those great landmarkes I referr To Camdens eye, Englands chorographer. Let mee observe that almesmans heraldrye, Who being ask'd, what Henry that should be That was their founder, duke of Lancaster, Answer'd : Twas John of Gaunt, I' assure you, sir; And so confuted all the walles, which sayd Henry of Grisemond this foundation layd. The next thing to be noted was our cheere, Enlarg'd, with seav'ne and sixpence bread and beere ! But, oh you wretched tapsters as you are, Who reckon by our number, not your ware, And sett false figures for all companyes, Abusing innocent meales with oathes and lyes ; Forbeare your coos'nage to Divines that come, Least they be thought to drinke up all your summe. 179 Spare not the Laity in your reckoning thus, But sure your theft is scandalous to us. Away, my muse, from this base subject, know Thy Pegasus nere strooke his foote soe low. Is not th' usurping Richard buryed here, That king of hate-, and therefore slave of feare ; Dragg'd from the fatall feild Bosworth, where hee Lost life, and, what he liv'd for, -cruelty ? Search ; find his name : but there is none. Oh kings ! Remember whence your power and vastnesse springs ; If not as Richard now, so shall you bee Who hath no tombe, but scorne and memorye. And though that Woolsey from his store might saye A pallace, or a colledge for his grave, Yet there he lyes interred as if all Of him to be remembred were his fall. Nothing but earth to earth, no pompeous waight Upon him, but a pibble or a quaite. 180 If thou art thus neglected, what shall wee * Hope after death, who are but shreads of thee ? Hold ! William calls to horse ; William is hee, Who, though he never saw threescore and three, Ore-reckons us in age, as he before In drink, and will baite nothing of foure score : And he commands, as if the warrant came From the great earle himselfe of Nottingham. There wee crost Trent, and on the other side Prayd to Saint Andrew ; and up hill wee ride. Where wee observ'd the cunning men, like moles, Dwell not in howses, but were earth'tin holes ; So did they not builde upwards, but digg thorough, As hermitts caves, or conyes do their borough : Great underminers sure as any where ; Tis thought the Powder- traitors practised there. Would you not thinke the men stood on their heads, When gardens cover howses there, like leades ; 7 Students of Christ-Church College, Oxford, which, as well as Whitehall, the palace" before mentioned, wa founded by Wolsey. 181 And on the chymneyes topp the mayd may know Whether her pottage boyle or not, below ; There cast in hearbes, and salt, or bread j their meate Contented rather with the smoake then heate ? This was the Rocky-Parish ; higher stood Churches and houses, buildings stone and wood ; Crosses not yet demolish' t ; and our Ladye With her armes on, embracing her whole Baby '. Where let us note, though those are northerne parts, The Crosse finds in them more then southerne hearts. The Castle's next ; but what shall I report Of that which is a ruine, was a fort ? 8 The figure in these lines is taken from the fine church of St. Mary's, Nottingham, in which the long chancel and nave with the tower in the midst resemble the object of the bishop's metaphor. The castle mentioned in the suc- ceeding lines has " perished 'mid the wreck of things that were." 182 The gates two statues keepe, which gyants * are. To whome it seemes committed was the care Of the whole downfall. If it be your fault $ If you are guilty ; may king Davids vault f, Or Mortimers darke hole J, contain you both 9 ! A just reward for so prophane a sloth. And if hereafter tidings shall be brought Of any place or office to be bought, And the left lead, or unwedg'd timber yet Shall pass by your consent to purchase it ; May your deformed bulkes endure the edge Of axes, feele the beetle and the wedge ! May all the ballads be call'd in and dye. Which sing the warrs of Colebrand and sir Guy ! * Guy and Colebrand. f Where David king of the Scots was kept prisoner. | Which is within the Castle. 9 Every part of Corbet's account of Nottingham Castle corresponds so closely with the relation of Leyland, in his Itinerary, vol. iii. p. 105, &c., that it would be superfluous to transcribe it. See also Speed's Chronicle, p. 540; and Holinshed's Chronicle, p. 349. 183 Oh you that doe Guild-hall and Holmeby keepe Soe carefully, when both the founders sleepe, You are good giants, aud partake no shame With those two worthlesse trunkes of Netting- hame : Looke to your severall charges ; wee must goe, Though greiv'd at heart to leave a castle so. The Bull-head * is the word, and wee must eate ; Noe sorrow can descend soe deepe as meate : So to the inne wee come ; where our best cheere Was, that his grace of Yorke had lodged there : Hee was objected to us when wee call, Or dislike ought: " My lords grace" answers all : " Hee was contented with this bed, this dyett." That keepes our discontented stomackes quiett. The inne-keeper was old, fourescore allmost, Indeede an embleme rather then an host ; In whome wee read how God and Time decree To honour thrifty ostlers, such as hee. \ In Nottinghame. 184 For in the stable first he did begin ; Now see hee is sole lord of the whole inne : Mark the encrease of straw and hay, and how, By thrift, a bottle may become a mow. Marke him, all you that have the golden itch, All whome God hath condemned to be rich 10 . Farwell, glad father of thy daughter Maris, Thou ostler-phoenix, thy example rare is. Wee are for Newarke after this sad talke ; And whither tis noe journey, but a walke. Nature is wanton there, and the high-way Seem'd to be private, though it open lay ; As if some swelling lawyer, for his health, Or frantick usurer, to tame his wealth, Had chosen out ten miles by Trent, to trye Two great effects of art and industry. The ground wee trodd was meddow, fertile land. New trimm'd and levelPd by the mowers hand ; 10 " He that maketh haste to be rich shall not be inno- cent." Proverbs xxviii. ver. 20. Above it grew a roke, rude, steepe, and high, Which claimes a kind of reverence from the eye : Betwixt them both there glides a lively streame, Not loud, but swifte : Maeander was a theame Crooked and rough ; but had thepoetts scene Straight, even Trent, it had immortall bin. This side the open plaine admitts the sunne To halfe the river ; there did silver runne : The other 'halfe ran clowdes ; where the curl'd wood With his exalted head threatened the floude. Here could I wish us ever passing by And never past ; now Newarke is too nigh : And as a Christmas seemes a day but short, Deluding time with revells and good sport ; So did these beauteous mixtures us beguile, And the whole twelve, being travail'd, seem'd a mile. Now as the way was sweet, soe was the end ; Our passage easy, and our prize a friend *, Dr. Jucks. 186 Whome there wee did enjoy ; and for whose sake, As for a purer kinde of coyne, men make Us liberall welcome ; with such harmony As the whole towne had bin his family. Mine host of the next inne did not repine That wee preferr'd the Heart, and past his signe : And where wee lay, the host and th'hostesse faine Would shew our love was aym'd at, not their gaine : The very beggars were s' ingenious, They rather prayd for him, then begg'd of us. And, soethe Doctors friends will please to stay, The Puritans will let the organs play. Wpuld they pull downe the gallery, builded new, With the church-wardens seat and Burleigh-pew, Newarke, for light and beauty, might compare With any church, but what cathedralls are* To this belongs a vicar *, who succeded The friend I mention'd ; such a one there needed; * Mr. Edward Mason. MS. 1625. 1ST A man whose tongue and life is eloquent. Able to charme those mutinous heads of Trent, And urge the Canon home, when they conspire Against the crosse and bells with swords and fire. There stood a Castle, too ; they shew us here The roome where the King slep't ", the window where He talk't with such a lord, how long he staid In his discourse, and all, but what he said. From hence, without a perspective, wee see Bever and Lincolne, where wee fame would bee ; But that our purse and horses both are bound Within the circuite of a narrower ground. Th 25th of April, 1603, being Thursday, his high- ' nesse (James the First) tooke his way towards New- warke upon Trent, where that night he lodged in the Castle, being his owne house, where the aldermen of New-warke presented his Majestic with a faire gilt cup, manifesting their duties and loving hearts to him ; which was kindly received." " The true Narration of his Majesty's Journey from Edenbrough, &c. 1603. 188 Our purpose is all homeward, and twas time At parting to have witt, as well as rime; Full three a clock, and twenty miles to ride, Will aske a speedy horse, and a sure guide; Wee wanted both : and Loughborow may glory, Errour hath made it famous in our story. Twas night, and the swifte horses of the Sunne Two houres before our jades their race had runn ; Noe pilott moone, nor any such kinde starre As governd those wise men that came from farre To holy Bethlem ; such lights had there bin, They would have soone convay'd us to an inne : But all were wandring-starrs ; and wee, as they, Were taught noe course, but to ride on and stray. When (oh the fate of darknesse, who hath tride it) Here our whole fleete is scatter'd and divided ; And now wee labour more to meete, then erst Wee did to lodge ; the last cry drownes the first : Our voyces are all spent, and they that follow Can now no longer track us by the hollow ; 189 They curse the formost, wee the hindmost, both Accusing with like passion, hast, and sloth. At last, upon a little towne wee fall, Where some call drinkc, and some a candle call : Unhappy wee, such stragglers as wee are A dmire a candle oftner then a starre : Wee care not for those glorious lampes a loofe, Give us a tallow-light and a dry roofe. And now wee have a guide wee cease to chafe, And now w' have time to pray the rest be safe. Our guide before cryes Come, and wee the while Ride blindfold, and take bridges for a stile : Till at the last wee overcame the darke, And spight of night and errour hitt the marke. Some halfe howre after enters the whole tayle, As if they were committed to the jayle : The constable, that tooke them thus divided, Made them seeme apprehended, and not guided : Where, when wee had our fortunes both detested, Compassion made us friends, and so wee rested. 190 Twas quickly morning, though by our short stay Wee could not find that wee had lesse to pay. All travellers, this heavy judgement heare: "Ahandsomehostessemakes the reckoning deare;" Her smiles, her wordes, your purses must requite them, / And every wellcome from her, adds an item. Glad to be gon from thence at any rate, For Bosworth wee are horst : Behold the state Of mortall men ! Foule Errour is a mother, - And, pregnant once, doth soone bring forth an other : Wee, who last night did learne to loose our way, Are perfect since, and farther out next day. And in a forrest* having travelPd sore, Like wandring Bevis ere hee found the bore ; Or as some iove-sick lady oft hath donne, Ere shee was rescued by the Knight of th'Sunne : Soe are wee lost, and meete no comfort then. But carts and horses, wiser then the men. * Leister forrest. 191 Which is the way? They neyther speake nor point; Their tongues and fingers both were out of joynt : Such monsters by Coal-Orton bankes there sitt, After their resurrection from the pitt. Whilst in this mill wee labour and turn,e round As in a conjurers circle, William found A menes for our deliverance : Turne your cloakes, Quoth hee, for Puck is busy in these oakes : If ever yee at Bosworth will be found, Then turneyour cl oakes, for this is Fayry-ground. But, ere this witchcraft was perform'd, wee mett A very man, who had no cloven feete; Though William, still of little faith, doth doubt Tis Robin, or some sprite that walkes about ^ Strike him, quoth hee, and it will turne to ay re ; Crosse your selves thrice and strike it : Strike that dare, Thought I, for sure this massy forrester In stroakes will prove the better conjurer. 192 But twas a gentle keeper, one that knc\r Humanity, and manners where they grew ; i And rode along soe farr till he could say, See yonder Bosworth stands, and this your way. And now when wee had swett 'twixt sunn and sunn, And eight miles long to thirty broad had spun ; Wee learne the just proportion from hence Of the diameter and circumference. That night yet made amends ; our meat and sheetes Were farr above the promise of those streetes ; Those howses, that were tilde with straw and mosse, Protest but weake repaire for that dayes losse Of patience : yet this outside lets us know, The worthyest things make not the bravest show : The shott was easy ; and what concernes us more, The way was so ; mine host doth ride before. 193 Mine host was full of ale and history ; And on the morrow when hee brought us nigh Where the two Roses* joyn'd, you would sup. pose, Chaucer nere made the Romant of the Rose. Heare him. See yee yon wood ? There Richard lay, With his whole army : Looke the other way, And loe where Richmond in a bed of gorsse Encampt himselfe ore night, and all his force : Upon this hill they mett. Why, he could tell The inch where Richmond stood, where Richard fell: Besides what of his knowledge he could say, He had authenticke notice from the Play ; Which I might guesse, by 's mustrmg up the ghosts, And policyes, not incident to hosts ; But cheifly by that one perspicuous thing, Where he mistooke a player for a king. * Bosworth, field. Edit. 1648. o 194 For when he would have sayd, King Richard dyed. And call'd Ahorse! a horse! he, Burbidge cry'de . Howere his talke, his company pleas d well ; His mare went truer then his chronicle \ And even for conscience sake, unspurr'd, un- beaten, Brought us six miles, and turn'd tayle at Nun- eaton. From thence to Coventry, where wee scarcely dine ; Our stomackes only warm'd with zeale and wine : And then, as if wee were predestin'd forth, Like Lot from Sodome, fly to Killingworth. The keeper of the castle was from home, Soe that halfe mile wee lost ; yet when wee come 3 From this passage we learn that Richard Burbagc, the alter Eoscius of Camden, was the original represen- tative of Shakespeare's Richard the Third. He was buried in the parish of St. Leonard, Shore- ditch, as Mr. Chalmers discovered, on the 16th of March, 1618-19. 195 An host receiv'd us there, wee'l nere deny him, My lord of Leisters man ; the parson by him, Who had no other proofe to testify He ser?'d the Lord, but age and baudery u . Away, for shame, why should foure miles deride Warwicke and us ? They that have horses ride. A short mile from the towne, an humble shrine* At foote of an high rock consists, in signe Of Guy and his devotions ; who there stands Ugly and huge, more then a man on' s hands : 3 The clerical profligate thus gibbeted for the example of posterity was John Bust, inducted the 8th of April, 1611. He seems to hare been a worthy prototype of the Natta of antiquity : Non pudet ad morem discincti vivere Nattae ? Sed stupet hicVitio, et fibris increvit opimum Pingue ; caret culpa ; nescit quid perdat, et alto Demersus, summa rursum non bullit in unda. Persius, iii. 3 1. * Guyes cliff. Edit. 1648. The cliff and chapel are engraved in Dugdale's Warwickshire, vol. i. 274. Ed. 1730. 02 196 His helmett steele, his gorgett mayl, his sheild Brass, made the chappcll fearefull as a feild. And let this auswere all the Popes complaints ; Wee sett up gyants though wee pull downe saintes. Beyond this, in the roadway as wee went, A pillar stands, where this Colossus leant ; Where he would sigh and love, and, for hearts ease, Oftimcs write Terses (some say) such as these : f; Here will I languish in this silly bower, Whilst my true love triumphes in yon high tower.'* No other hindcrance now, but wee may passe Cleare to our inne : Oh there an hostcsse was, To whome the Castle and the Dun Cow are Sights after dinner ; shee is morning ware. Her whole behaviour borrowed was, and mixt, Halfe foole, halfe puppet, and her pace betwixt Measure and jigge ; her court'sy was an honour ; Her gate, as if her neighbour had out-gon her. 197 Shee was barrd up in whale-bones which doc leese None of the whales length ; for they reached her knees : Off with her head, and then shee hath a middle : As her wast slands, shee lookes like the new fiddle, The favorite Theorbo, (truth to tell yee.) Whose neck and throat are deeper then, the belly ". Have you scene monkyes chained about theloynes, Or pottle-potts with rings ? Just soe shee joynes Her selfe together : A dressing shee doth love In a small print below, and text above. What though her name be King, yet tis noe treason, Nor breach of statute, for to aske the reason J * Of the Theorbo, or Cithara bijaga, so called from its having two necks, which appears from Kircher as well as the bishop's poetry to have been highly esteemed in Corbet's time, a graphical representation may be found in Hawkins's History of Music, vol.iv. p. 1 11. 4to. 1776. 198 . Of her brancht ruffe, a cubit every poke : I seeme to wound her, but shee strook the stroke At our departure; and our worshipps there Pay'd for our titles deare as any where : Though beadles and professors both have done, Yet every inne claimes augmentation. Please you walke out and seethe Castle*? Come, The owner saith, it is a schollers home ; A place of strength and health : in the same fort, You would conceive a castle and a court. The orchards, gardens, rivers, and the aire, Doe with the trenches, rampires, walls, compare : It seemes nor art nor force can intercept it, As if a lover built, a souldier kept it. Up to the tower, though it be steepe and high, Wee doe not climbe but w T alke ; and though the eye Seeme to be weary, yet our feet are still In the same posture cozen'd up the hill : * Warwick Castle. Edit. 1648, 199 And thus the workemans art deceaves our sence, Making those rounds of pleasure a defence. As wee descend, the lord of all this frame, The honorable Chancellour, towards us came M . Above the hill there blew a gentle breath, Yet now we see a gentler gale beneath. The phrase and wellcome of this knight did make The seat more elegant ; every word he spake Was wine and musick, which he did expose To us, if all our art could censure those. With him there was a prelate *, by his place Arch-deacon to the byshopp, by his face A greater man ; for that did counterfeit Lord abbot of some covent standing yet 9 A corpulent relique : marry and tis sinne Some Puritan gets not his face call'd in ; Amongst leane brethren it may scandall bring, Who seeke for parity in every thing. '* Fulke Greville, lord Brooke. Arch-deacon Burton. Edit. 1648. 200 For as, let nim enjoy all that God sends. Plenty of flesh, of livings, and of freinds. Imagine here us ambling downe the street, ' Circling in Flower, making both ends meet : Where wee fare well foure dayes, and did com. plain, Like harvest folkes, of weather and the raine : And on the feast of Barthol'mew wee try What revells that saint keepes at Banbury *. In th' name of God, Amen ! First to begin, The altar was translated to an inne ; Wee lodged in a chappell by the signe, But in a banquerupt taverne by the wine : Besides, our horses usage made us thinke Twas still a church, for they in coffins drinkef ; As if twere congruous that the ancients lye Close by those alters in whose faith they dye. * At the signe of the Alter-stone. Edit. 1648. f Which serve for troughs in the backside. Ibid. 201 Now yee beleeve the Church- hath good varietye Of monuments, when inns have such satiety ; But nothing lesse : ther' s no inscription there, But the church-wardens names of the last yeare : Instead of saints in windowes and on walls, Here bucketts hang, and there a cobweb falls : Would you not sweare they love antiquity, Who brush the quire for perpetuity ? Whilst all the other pavement and the floore Are supplicants to the surveyors power Of the high wayes, that he would gravell keepe ; For else in winter sure it will be deepe. If not for Gods, for Mr. Wheatlyes sake Levell the walkes ; suppose these pittfalls make Him spraine a lecture, or misplace a joynt In his long prayer, or his fiveteenth point : Thinke you the dawes or stares can sett him right? Surely this sinne upon your heads must light. And say, beloved, what unchristian charme Is this ? you have not left a legg or arme 202 Of an apostle : think you, were they whole, That they would rise, at least assume a soule ? If not, 'tis plaine all the idolatry Lyes in your folly, not th' imagery. Tis well the pinnacles are falne in twaine ; For now the divdl, should he tempt againe, Hath noe advantage of a place soe high : Fooles, he can dash you from your gallery, Where all your medly mcete; and doe compare, Not what you learne, but who is longest there ; The Puritan, the Anabaptist, Brownist, Like a grand sallet : Tinkers, what a towne ist ? The crosses also, like old stumps of trees, Are stooles for horsemen that have feeble knees ; Carry noe heads above ground : They which tell, That Christ hath nere descended into hell, But to the grave, his picture buried have In a far deeper dungeon then a grave : That is, descended to endure what paines The divell can think, or such disciples braines. SOS No more my greife, in such prophane abuses Good whipps make better verses then the muses. Away, and looke not back ; away, whilst yet The church is standing, whilst the benefitt Of seeing it remaines ; ere long you shall Have that rac't downe, and call'd Apocryphal, And in some barne heare cited many an author, Kate Stubbs, Anne Askew, or the Ladyes daugh- ter * ; 16 Three dames, " Well known and like esteemed." " A discourse of the godly life and Christian death of Mistriss Katharine Stubbs, who departed this life at Burton on Trent, 14th of December," (1592,) was written by her brother, the sanctimonious author of " The Anatomic of Abuses." Anne Askexv, burned in 1546 for her rigid adherence to her faith, wrote " a balade which she sang when she was in Newgate;" printed by Bale. A long account of her examination and subsequent martyrdom may be seen in Foie's "Actes and Monuments," vol. ii. p. 1234. edit. 1583. bl. let. With the last I am less intimately acquainted; but I take her to be the same " lady" of whom the favourite ion of Mrs. Merrythought sings, in the last act of " The Knight of the Burning Pestle." 204 Which shall be urg'd for fathers. Stopp Disdaine, When Oxford once appears, Satyre refrainc. Neighbours, how hath our anger thus out gon's ? Is not Saint Giles's this, and that Saint Johns ? Wee are return ? d ; but just with soc much ore As Rawleigh from his voyage, and noe more. Non recito cuiquam nisi amiciSy idque coactus, iviSf coramve quiluslilet. HOR. lib. i. sat. 4. 205 OH MR. RICE, THE MANCIPLE OF CHRIST-CHURCH IN OXFORD. WHO can doubt, Rice, but to th' eternall place Thy soule is fledd, that did but know thy face ? Whose body was soe light, it might hare gone To heav'ne without a resurrection. Indeed thou wert all type; thy limmes were signes, Thy arteryes but mathematicke lines : As if two soules had made thy compound good, That both should HTC by faith, and none by blood, 206 ON HENRY BOLINGS. IF gentleness could tame the Fates, or wit Deliver man, Bolings had not di'd yet ; But One which over us in judgment sits, Doth say our sins are stronger than our wits. 207 ON JOHN DAWSON, BUTLER OF CHRIST-CHURCH. DAWSON the butler' s dead : Although I think Poets were ne're infus'd with single drink, I'll spend a farthing, muse; a watry verse Will serve the turn to cast upon his herse. If any cannot weep amongst us here, Take off his cup, and so squeeze out a tear. Weep, O ye barrels! let your drippings fall In trickling streams ; make waste more prodigal Than when our beer was good, that John may float To Styx in beer, and lift up Charons boat With wholsome waves : and, as the conduits ran With claret at the Coronation, 208 So let your channels flow with single tiff. For John, I hope, is crown'd : Take off yonr whiff, Ye men of rosemary ! , and drink up all, Remembring 'tis a butlers funeral : Had he been master of good double beer, My life for his, John Dawson had been here. 1 It is almost superfluous to observe, that rosemary was supposed by our forefathers to be very efficacious in strengthening the retentive faculties ; and, by being always borne at funerals, was calculated to perpetuate the remem- brance of the deceased. Here is a strange alteration : for, the rosemary that was washt in sweet water to set out the bridall, is now wet in teare* to furni&h her burial." Decker's Wonderfull Yeare 1603. 209 ON GREAT TOM OF CHRIST-CHURCH. BE dumb, ye infant-chimes, thump not yourmettle ? That ne're out-ring a tinker and his kettle ; Cease, all you petty larums ; for, to day Is young Tom's resurrection from the clay : And know, when Tom rings out his knells. The best of you will be but dinner-bells. Old Tom's grown young again, the fiery cave Is now his cradle, that was erst his grave : He grew up quickly from his mother earth. For, all you see was but an hours birth ; Look on him well, my life I dare engage, You ne're saw prettier baby of his age. Some take his measure by the rule, some by The Jacobs-staff take his profundity, 210 And some his altitude j but some do swear Young Tom 's not like the Old : But, Tom, ne're fear The critical geometricians line, If thou as loud as e're thou did ring'st nine. Tom did no sooner peep from under-ground, But straight Saint Maries tenor lost his sound. O how this may-poles heart did swell With full main sides of joy, when that crack t bell Choaktwith annoy, aud's admiration, Rung like a quart-pot to the congregation. Tom went his progress lately, and lookt o're What he ne're saw in many years before ; But when he saw the old foundation, With some like hope of preparation, He burst with grief ; and lest he should not have .Due pomp, he's his own bell-man to the grave: And that there might of him be still some mention, He carried to his grave a new invention. 211 They drew his brown-bread face on pretty gins, And made him stalk upon two rolling-pins ; But Sander Hill swore twice or tbricc by heaven, He ne're set such a loaf into the oven. And Tom did Sanders TCX, his Cyclops maker, As much as he did Sander Hill, the baker ; Therefore, loud thumping Tom, be this thy pride, When thou this motto shalt have on thy side : " Great world ! one Alexander conquer'd thee, And two as mighty men scarce conquer'd me." Brave constant spirit, none could make thee turn, Though hang'd, drawn, quarter'd, till they did thee burn : Yet not for this, nor ten times more be sorry, j Since thou was martyr'd for the Churches glor^; But for thy meritorious suffering, Thou shortly shalt to heaven in a string : And though we griev'd to see thee thump'd and bang'd, We'll all be glad, Great Torn, to see thee hang'd. 212 R. C. WHEN too much zeal doth fire devotion. Love is not love, but superstition : Even so in civil duties, when we come Too oft, we are not kind, but troublesome. Yet as the first is not idolatry, So is the last but grieved industry : And such was mine, whose strife to honour you By overplus, hath rob'd you of your due. 213 A PROPER NEW BALLAD, INTITULED THE FAERYES FAREWELL; OR, GOD-A.MERCY WILL. To be sung or whiseled to the Tune of " The Meddow Brow," by the Learned ; by the Unlearned, to the Tune of " Fortune.** FAREWELL rewards and Faeries, Good houswives now may say, For now foule slutts in daries Doe fare^as well as they. And though they sweepe theyr hearths no less Then maydes were wont to doe, Yet who of late for cleaneliness, Finds sixe-pence in her shoe ? 214 Lament, lament, old abbies, The Faries lost command ; They did but change priests babies, But some have changd your land : And all your children sprung from thence Are now growne Puritanes ; Who live as changelings ever since For love of your demaines. At morning and at evening both You merry were and glad, So little care of sleepe or sloth These prettie lad&s had ; When Tom came home from labour, Or Ciss to milking rose, Then merrily merrily went theyre tabor, And nimbly went theyre toes. 215 Wittness those rings and roundelayes Of theirs, which yet remaine, Were footed in queene Maries dayes On many a grassy playne ; But since of late, Elizabeth, And later, James came in, They never daunc'd on any heath As when the time hath bin. By which wee note the Faries Were of the old profession ; They re songs were Ave Maryes ; Theyre daunces were procession But now, alas ! they all are dead, Or gone beyond the seas ; Or farther for religion fled, Or elce they take theyre ease. 216 v A tell-tale in theyre company They never could endure, And whoe so kept not secretly Theyre mirth was punisht sure ; It was a just and Christian deed To pinch such blacke and blew : O how the common welth doth need Such justices as you ! Now they have left our quarters A register they have, Who looketh to theyre charters, A man both wise and grave ; An hundred of theyre merry prancks By one that I could name Are kept in store, conn twenty thanks To William for the same. 217 I marvell who his cloake would turne When Pucke had led him round *, Or where those walking fires .would burne, Where Cureton would be found ; How Broker would appeare to be, For whom this age doth mourne ; But that theyre spiritts live in thee, In thee, old William Chourne. To William Chourne of Stafford shire Give laud and prayses due, _ Who every meale can mend your cheare With tales both old and true : To William all give audience, And pray yee for his noddle, For all the Faries evidence Were lost, if that were addle. 4 The belief that the turning of the cloak, or glove, or any garment, solved the benighted traveller from the spell of the Fairies, is alluded to in the Iter Boreale, (see p. 191,) and is still retained in some of the western counties. 218 A NON SEQU1TUR. (From "Wit Restored," 8vo. 1658.) MARKE! how the Ian terns clowd mine eyes. See where a moon-drake 'gins to rise ; Saturne crawls much like an iron catt, To see the naked moone in a slipshott hatt. Thunder-thumping toadstools crock the pots To see the mermaids tumble ; Leather cat-a-mountaines shake their heels, To heare the gosh-hawke grumble* The rustic threed Begins to bleed. And cobwebs elbows itches ; The putrid skyes Eat mulsacke pyes, Backed up in logicke breches. 219 Munday trenchers made good hay. The lobster weares no dagger ; Meale-mouthed she-peacocke powle the starres, And made the lowbell stagger. Blew crocodiles foame in the toe, Blind meale-bagges do follow the doe ; A ribb of apple braine spice Will follow the Lancashire dice. Harke ! how the chime of Plutoes pispot cracks, To see the rainbowes wheele-gann made of flax. 220 NONSENCE. (Ashmole's Museum, A. 37.) LIKE to the thundring tone of unspoke speeches, Or like a lobster clad in logicke breeches, Or like the graye-furre of a crimson catt, Or like the moone-calfe in a slip-shodde hatt : Even such is hee who never was begotten Untill his children were both dead and rotten. Like to the fiery tombstone of a cabbage, Or like a crabbe-louse with its bag and baggage, Or like the four square circle of a ring, Or like to hey dinge, dingea dingea dinge : Even such is he who spake, and yet no doubt Spake to small purpose, when his tongue was out. 221 Like to a faire, fresh, faiding, withered rose, Or lyke to rhyming verse that runs in prose, Or lyke the stumbles of a tynder box, Or lyke a man that's sound yet hath the pox : Even such is he who dyed, and yet did laugh To see these lines writt for his epitaph. 222 THE COUNTRY LIFE*. THRICE and above blest (my souls halfe !) art thon In thy though last yet better vowe, - Canst leave the Cyttye with exchange to see The Country's sweet simplicitie, And to knowe and practise, with intent To growe the sooner innocent, By studdyinge to knowe vertue, and to ayme More at her nature than her name. 2 This poem, of which the leading features seem to be copied from the 10th epistle of the 1st book of Horace, has been printed in " The Antient and Modern Miscella- ny," by Mr. Waldron, from a manuscript in his possession, and it is consequently retained in this edition of Corbet's Poems ; to whose acknowledged productions it bears no resemblance, at the same time that it is attributed (in Ash- mole's MSS., No. 38, fol. 91.) to Robert Heyrick, the author of " Hesperides." 223 The last is but the least, the first doth tell Wayes not to live, but to live well. And both are knowne to thee, who now canst live, Led by thy conscience, to* give Justice 3 to soon pleas'd Nature, and to showe Wisdome and she togeather goe, x And keepe one center : this with that conspires To teach man to confine 's desires ; To knowe that riches have their proper stint In the contented minde, not mint ; And canst instruct, that those that have the itch Of cravinge more, are never rich. These thinges thou knowst to th' heigh^ and dost prevent The mange, because thou art content With that Heaven gave thee with a sparinge hand, More blessed in thy brest than land, 3 Discite quam parvo Hceat producere vitam, Et quantum natura petat. LUCAN, iv. ver. 377. 224 To keepe but Nature even and upright, To quench not cocker appetite. The first is Nature's end ; this doth impart Least thankes to Nature, most to Art. But thou canst tersely live, and satisfie The bellye only, not the eye ; Keepinge the barkinge stomache meanly quiet With a neat yet need full dyett. But that which most creates thy happy life, Is the fruition of a wife, Whom (starres consen tinge with thy fate) thou hast Gott, not so beautifull as chast. By whose warm'd side thou dost securely sleepe, Whilst Love the centinell doth keepe With those deeds done by day, which ne'er af- fright - The silken slumbers in the night ; Nor hath the darkenesse power to usher in Fcare to those sheets that knowe no sinne : 225 But still thy wife, by chast intention led, Gives thee each night a maidenhead. For where pure thoughts are led by godly feare, Trew love, not lust at all, comes there ; And in that sense the chaster thoughts commend Not halfe so much the act as end : That, what with dreams in sleepe of rurall blisse. Night growes farre shorter than shee is. The damaske meddowes, and the crawlinge streames, Sweeten, and make soft thy dreams. The purlinge springes, groves, birdes, and well* weav'd bowers, With fields enamelled with flowers^ Present thee shapes, whilst phantasye discloses Millions of lillyes mixt with roses. Then dreamc thou hear'st the lambe with many a bleat Woo'd to come sucke the milkey teate ; Whilst Faunus, in the vision, vovves to keepe From ravcnouse wolfe the woolley sheepe j 226 With thowsand such enchantinge dreames, which meet To make sleepe not so sound as sweet. Nor can these figures in thy rest endeere, As not to up when chanticleere Speaks the last watch, but with the dawne dost rise To worke, but first to sacrifice : Makinge thy peace with Heaven for some late fault, With holy meale and cracklinge salt. That done, thy painfull thumbe this sentence tells us, God for our labour all thinges sells us. Nor are thy daylye and devout affayres Attended with those desperate cares Th' industriouse marchant hath, who for to finde Gold, runneth to the furthest Inde 4 , * Impiger extremes currit mercator ad Indos, Per mare pauperism fugiens, per saxa, per ignes. HOR. Epist. 1. And home againe tortur'd with fear doth hye, Untaught to suffer povertye. But you at home blest with securest ease, Sitt'st and beleev'st that there are seas, And watrye dangers ; but thy better hap But sees these thingcs within thy mapp, And viewinge them with a more safe survaye, Makst easy Feare unto thee say, A heart thrice wall'd with oake and brass thai man Had, first durst plough the ocean. But thou at home, without or tyde or gale, Canst in thy mapp securely sayle, Viewinge the parted country es, and so guesse By their shades their substances ; And from their compasse borrowing advise, Buy'st travayle at the lowest price. ;\ T or are thy eares so seald but thou canst heare Par more with wonder than with feare. Ccetera desulerantur . ROBERT WISDOM WAS rector of Settrington in Yorkshire, and wai presented to the archdeaconry of Ely by Eliza- beth the 27th of February 1559-60. la bishop Cox's Certificatorium (MS. Bennet Col. Lib.) he is returned to the archbishop as a a priest and B. D. usually residing upon his living of Wilberton, appropriated to the archdeaconry, was qualified for preaching, and licensed thereunto by the Queen's majesty." He died, and was buried at Wilberton the 20th of September, 1568. He is chiefly memorable for his metrical prayer intended to be sung in the church against the Pope and the Turk, of whom he seems to have had the most alarming apprehensions ; and in consequence of which he has been ridiculed by sir John Den- ham, Corbet 3 Butler ? and others. 229 TO THE GHOST OF ROBERT WISDOME*. THOU, once a body, now bnt aire, Arch-botcher of a psalme or prayer, From Carfax come ; And patch mee up a zealous lay, With an old ever and for ay, Or, all and some. Or such a spirit lend mee, As may a hymne downe send mee, To purge my braine ; So, Robert, looke behind thee, Least Turke or Pope doe find thee, And goe to bed again e. s Sec Warton's Hist, of Engl. Poetry, vol.iii. p. 170, 171. 230 THOMAS JONCE. THE name of this man, (Jones,) which Corbet, for the sake of the rhyme, has corrupted, sum. ciently denotes his extraction ; and I would have ascertained the time of his death, but the register was not to be found upon application for that purpose. Antony a Wood says, in his History of the City of Oxford, " Thomas Jonce, a clergyman and inhabitant of this place, (St. Giles's parish, Oxford,) desiring here to lay his bones, was of note sufficient to excite bishop Corbet to write an epitaph on him." ' Say'st thou this of thyself, or did others tell it thee of me?* AN EPITAPH ox THOMAS JONCE. HERE, for the nonce, Came Thomas Jonce, In St. Giles church to lye. None Welsh before. None Welshman more, Till Shon Clerk die. I'll tole the bell, I'll ring his knell ; He died well, He's sav'd from hell; And so farwel Tom Jonce. TO THE LADYES OF THE NEW DRESSE, THAT WEARE 1HE1R GORGETS AND RAYLES DOWNE TO THEIR WASTES. LADYES, that weare black cipress-Tailes Turn'd lately to white linnen-rayles, And to your girdle weare your bands. And shew your armes instead of hands ; What can you doe in Lent so meet As, fittest dress, to weare a sheet ? T' was once a band, 'tis now a cloake, An acorne one day proves an oke : Weare but your linnen to your feet, And then your band will prove a sheet. By which devise, and wise excesse, You'l doe your penance in a dresse ; And none shall know, by what they see, Which lady 's censur'd, and which free. 233 THE LADIES' ANSWER. (Harl. MS. No. 6396.) BLACKE cypresse vailes are shroudes on night, White linnen railes are raies of light. Which though we to the girdles weare, We've hands to keep your hands off there. A fittter dresse we have in Lent, To shew us trewly penitent. Whoe makes the band to be a cloke Makes John-a-style of John-an-oake. We weare our garments to the feet, v Yet neede not make our bandes a sheet : The clergie weare as long as we, Yet that implies conformitie. Be wise, recant what you have writt, Least you doe pennance for your witte ; Love^ charm hath power to weare a stringe, To tye you as you tied your ringe 6 ; There by love's sharpe but just decree You may be censured, we go free, 6 See the Life of the Bishop. CORBET'S REPLY. (Ashmole's Museum, A, 38. Fol. 66.) YFT nought but love-charmes power hare Your blemisht creditt for to save ; Then know your champion is blind, And that love-nottes are soon untwindc. But blemishes are nnw a grace, And add d lustre to your face ; Your blemisht credit for to save, Y(ra needed not a vayle to have; Tie rayle for women may be fitte ? Because they daylie practice ytt. And, seeing counsell can you not reforme, this reply and take ytt not in scoriie. 235 FAIRFORD WINDOWS Are much admired, says the provincial historian of Glocestershire, for their excellent painted glass. There are twenty-eight large windows, which are curiously painted with the stories of the Old and New Testament : the middle windows in the choir, and on the west side of the church, are larger than the rest ; those in the choir represent the history of our Saviour's Crucifixion ; the window at the west end represents Hell and Damnation ; those on the side of the church, and over the body, represent the figures in length of the pro- phets, apostles, fathers, martyrs and confessors, and also the persecutors of the church. The paint- ing was designed by Albert Durer, an eminent Italian master : the colours are very lively, espe- cially in the drapery : some^ of the figures are so well finished, that sir Anthony Vandyke affirmed 236 that the pencil could not exceed them. This cu- rious painting was preserved from zealous fury in the great rebellion, by turning the glass upside down. John Tame, esq. founded this church in the year 1493. He was a merchant, and took a prize- ship bound for Rome, in which was this painted glass : he brought both the glass and workmen into England, built the church for the sake of the glass, and dedicated it to the Virgin Mary. Atkyns's Hist, of Glocestershire, p. 226. 1768. fol. It is to be observed that the tradition of the famous Albert Durer having furnished the draw- ings will not, as Mr. Dallaway justly observes, bear the test of chronology; for he was not twenty years of age when these windows were put up ; nor is it probable that he had then attained to such proficiency to say nothing of the time ne. cessary for the perfecting such works. 237 UPON FAIRFORD WINDOWS. TELL me, you anti-saints, why brass With you is shorter lived than glass ? And why the saints have scap't their fall* Better from windows than from walles ? Is it, because the Brethrens fires Maintain a glass-house at Blackfryars ? Next which the church stands North and South; And East and West the preacher's mouth. Or is't, because such painted ware Resembles something that you are, Soe py'de, soe seeming, soc unsound In manners, and in doctrine, found, That, out of emblematick witt, You spare yourselves in sparing it ? 238 If it be soe, then, Faireford, boast Thy church hath kept what all have lost And is preserved from the bane Of either warr, or puritane : Whose life is colour'd in thy paint, The inside drosse, the outside saint. 239 UPON FAIREFORD WINDOWES*. (Misc. MS. Poems, Mus. Brit. Bib. Sloan. No. 1446.) I KNOWE no painte of poetry Can mend such colour'd imag'ry In sullen inke, yet (Fayreford) I May rellish thy fair memory. Such is the echoe's fainter sound, Such is the light when the sunn 's drown'd, So did the fancy look upon The work before it was begun. Yet when those showes are out of sight, My weaker colours may delight. " This poem, which is in some manuscripts attributed to William Stroude, has already been printed in the Topo- grapher of my very intelligent friend, Samuel Egertow Brydges, esq. vol.ii. p. 112. 240 Those images doe faithfullie Report true feature to the eie, As you may think each picture was Some visage in a looking-glass ; Not a glass window face, unless Such as Cheapside hath, where a press Of painted gallants, looking out, Bedeck the casement rounde about. But these have holy phisnomy ; Each paine instructs the laity With silent eloquence ; for heere Devotion leads the eie, not eare, To note the cathechisinge paint, Whose easie phrase doth soe acquairitc Our sense with Gospell, that the Creede In such an hand the weake may reade. Such tipes e'en yett of vertUe bee. And Christ as in a glass we see When with a fishinge rod the clarke St. Peter's draught of fish doth marke, 241 Such is the scale, the eie, the firm. You'd thinke they strive and leape within ; But if the nett, which holdes them, brake, Hee with his angle some would take. But would you walke a turn in Paules, Looke up, one little pane inrouls A fairer temple. Flinge a stone, The church is out at the windowe flowne. Consider not, but aske your eies, And ghosts at mid-day seem to rise. The saintes there seemeing to descend, Are past the glass, and downwards bend. Look there ! The Devill ! all would cry, Did they not see that Christ was by. See where he suffers for thee ! See His body taken from the tree 1 Had ever death such life before ? The limber corps, be-sully'd o'er With meagre paleness, does display A middle state 'twixt flesh and olay. R 242 His armes and leggs, his head and crown. Like a true lambskin dangle downe : Whoe can forbeare, the grave being nigh, To bringe fresh ointment in his eye ? The wond'rous art hath equall fate, Unfixt, and yet inviolate. The Puritans were sure deceav'd Whoe thought those shaddowes mov'd and heav'd. So held from stoninge Christ ; the winde And boysterous tempests were so kinde, As on his image not to prey, Whome both the winde and seas obey. At Momus' wish bee not amaz'd ; For if each Christian's heart were glaz'd With such a windowe, then each brest Might bee his owne evangelist. 243 THE DISTRACTED PURITANE. AM I madd, O noble Festus, When zeale and godly knowledge Have put me in hope To deal with the Pope, As Well as the best in the Colledge ? Boldly I preach, hate a crosse, hate a surplice, Miters, copes, and rotchets : Come heare mee pray nine times a day, And fill your heads with crotchets. In the house of pure Emanuel I had my education ; Where my friends surmise I dazeled mine eyes With the Light of Revelation. Boldly I preach, &c. K* 244 They bound mee like a bedlam, They lash't my foure poore quarters ; Whilst this I endure, Faith makes mee sure To be one of Foxes martyrs. Boldly I preach, &c. These injuryes I suffer Through Anti-Christs perswasions : Take off this chaine, Neither Rome nor Spaine Can resist my strong invasions. Boldly I preach, &c. Of the Beasts ten homes (God blesse us ! ) I have knock't off three already : If they let mee alone, I '11 leave him none ; But they say I am too heady. Boldly I preach, &c. 245 When I sack'd the Seaven-hill'd Citty I mett the great redd Dragon : I kept him aloofe With the armour of proofe, Though here I have never a rag on. Boldly I preach, &c. With a fiery sword and targe tt There fought I with this monster : But the sonnes of pride My zeale deride, And all my deedes misconster. J?oldly I preach, c. I unhorst the whore of Babel With a launce of inspirations : I made her stinke, i And spill her drinck In the cupp of abominations. Boldly I preach, &c. 246 I hare scene two in a vision, With a flying booke betweene them : I have bin in dispaire Five times a yeare, And cur'd by reading Greenham l . Boldly I preach, &c. 1 Richard Greenham was educated at Pembroke-Hall in Cambridge, and became minister of Dry-Drayton, three miles distant ; where it should seem, from a rhyming pro- verb, that his success in the ministry was not proportionate to his zeal : Greenham had pastures green, But sheep full lean. " What," says Fuller (Church Hist. lib. ix. 220.), " was Dry-Drayton but a bushel to hide, London an high candlestick to hold up the brightness of his parts ?" Thither he repaired ; and, after an < erratical and planetary life/, settled himself at Christ-Church, where he ended his days in 1592. " His master-piece," says Fuller, Ci was in comforting wounded consciences." Quid multis ! 247 f observ'd in Perkins Tables * The black lines of damnation : Those crooked veines Soe struck in my braincs, That I fear'd my reprobation. Boldly I preach, &c. In the holy tongue of Chanaan I plac'd my chiefest pleasure : Till I prickt my foole With an Hebrew route. That I blcdd beyond all measure. Boldly I preach, &c. " Tous les temperamens/* say our neighbours, " ne se ressemblent pas." The Divine thus satyrized by Corbet is lauded by Fuller in high strains of eulogy. He was born at Marston near Coventry, and was educated at Christ College, Cambridge, where he took the degree of M. A. Having obtained the living of St. Andrew's parish in that university, he resided there till his death. ' He would pronounce the word tiuinmt with such an em- 248 I appear'd before the arch-bishopp, And all the high commission : I gave him noe grace, But told him to his face That he' favour'd superstition. Boldly I preach, hate a crosse, hate a surplice, Miters, copes, and rotchets : Come heare mee pray nine times a day, And fill your heads with crotchets. phasis," says Fuller, (Holy State, p. 80. fol. 1652.) "as left a doleful echo in his auditors' ears a good while after." This passage is of itself a sufficient illustration of the poet. His works were published in three volumes, folio, 1612. The first in the collection is, " A Golden Chaine, contain- ing the Order of the Causes of Salvation and Damnation, &c., in the tables annexed." 249 ORATIO DOMINI DOCTORIS CORBET, EX JEDE CHRISTI, IN FUNUS HENRICI PRINCIPIS. (Mus. Ashm. No. 1153.) QUAM sit semper vobis facile, et pronum, justo servire, sobriisque lachrimis obtemperare, ipsi mihi tos dixistis modo, qui egregio oratori, et invicto arguraento fideliter cessistis, mihi tan turn post consumptum humorem, et historiae meae iidem vestram et suspiria praestituri. Si qua autera unquam ageretur causa quae suis viribus staret, neque patrono aliquo, aut oratore indigeret, haec ipsa profecto hodierna est, quae nee adversarium infestum habet, nee facilem auditorem postulat ; haec ipsa est, quae in omni familia versata, vexata, compressa, ad forum postea, et coelum provocat, huniano generi se dat obviam, et una Britannia 250 a unc orbem replet. Tarn multa, variaque unius mors estj ut ubique moriatur ; tarn frequens dolor ut humanitatem omnem hac ipsa cogitatione im- buat. Nescit enim domestica esse aut paucorum fama, pervia simul et ambitiosa, utrumque siraul minatur polum, rumpetqtie moenia aut transibit caprificus : ideoque facti repetitione aliqua opus e*st j ad metus vestros, et necessitates descendite, aftectus vestros interrogate, quis desiderii modus aut finis. Dicite tandem utrum ,timere quicquid possitis, aut amare sine Henrico, sitque ille mi- serise vestrae vera causa, qui felicitati vestrse sola spes emicuit quare aures ego hodie restras non appello, sed oculos, neque auditores ut olim neque censores alloquar, sed homines, sed Britannos. Adeste igitur, Anglosissimi Academici, lassi, que. ruli, mihique per hunc mensem a primo hujus nuncio ruinse, non tacito sed muto post lachrimas jam deliberatas aspirate 3 et dolorem ilium, quern Tel vita nostra yinccre non possumus, data quasi 251 opera dolendo leniamus. Exanimat enim posses* sorem segrum luctus longus, et prodigus mentcm sine sensu vulnerat, ct quasi jam humanitas potius aut natura, quae morbus dici vellet, lachrimarum suarum epulis impleri gaudet, et imperiosa con- suetudine satiatur. Quare redcat jam ad se ocu- lus unusquisque vestrum, animamque in oculos arripiat. Henricum cogitet sive principem sivd nostrum et vincet, credo ratio, aut suadebit pietas, ut omnes hodie siinus Heracliti sive enim ad majorum sepulchra et imagines, proavosque ejus multum remotissimos revcrtimur, honor est et crescit acervus, nee sine centum regibus potest prodire, si patremque matremque jam superstites, ^uod saepius proferre juvat jam superstites, jam iupra cyathum, et cultrum, pyram flamniamque jam superstites, et si quid votis nostris precibus- que jam litare possumus, sero supei statures. Hos si repetimus Deus est in utroque parente. Si cuna- bula respicimus, et Lucinain ejus, quid in ilia 252 infantia non debuit esse plus quam mortate, qu* a sponsoribus Bclgiis et immortali Elizabetha Christo initiata, et aeternitati, pueritiam autem nul- lam habuit, qui annum unum excessit ex ephebis, et tanquam tempus praecipitare mallet, quam expectare, annos non state sed virtute aesti- raat, neque hominem sejongzevuin esse sed Tirura cupit. In omni actione, rcbusque gestis se juvenem prasbuit, solum in aflfectu senem ? et suos annos sic explevit, ut nonagenarium esse ilium Tellet quis libenter agnoscere. Senectutem pariter nee habuit nee exoptavit, neque exha3reditavit eum morbus, sed industriani, vitaeque suum patrimomum reli- quum aut laboribus vendidit, aut studio decoxit* Diuturnioris spcm vitas ei natura dederat, dare mclioris non poterat ; indicium prorsus quod ilium caeca fortuna non vidisset maximum ; mens paritcr condidisset optimum, adcone raro sue- cunibit tenuiori, et aeternum elementum gloriae periturae aurae infeliciter serviet ? Adeone virtus 233 qua vivimus minor erit vilissimo illius aeris haustu, quo vivendum est. Atqui redeat in Chaos unde prognatum est, ingratum illud aeris elcmentum, si malis tantum indulgeat, iiivideat bonis, si inutili populo spiret, principibuslateat, principibus huic. Ecquis mihi vestrum hanc Syntaxim imputat, ilium- ut dicam principibus, qui et multus erat, virtutem- que in aliis fractam et remissam, totam sibi suis- que iraperiis mancipasset ; unaquc sua anima ef- fecit praestantissima, ut si vetercs philosophos iriterrogamus, iniiaitmn animarum cxcrcitum in hoc uno extitisse crcderent ? Sed consulite me. moriae vestrae et oflicio, historiam revocate, nar- rate Principem ; quisqitamne melior ? quisquamna major ? Deo scilicet et ccelo stirpeque sua ani. moque proximus : non tamen ideo huraani oneris,. aut terreae vicmitatis immemor, Deumque immor- talem quern metu subditissimo coluit, semper et admiratus est ; precibus iiiiperatoriis, et quasi Jibcra scrvitute quotidie vincit ; movet hortatu. 254 docet Salomonis aemulus familiam sensu, popu- lum fama concitat, praelucetipse omnibus pietate^ neque autoritate bonos sed exemplo facit. Irasci aliquando, neque potuit, neque vellet, neque pcc- na cujusque, sed poenitentia contentus est, credo itaque ut qui sine felle viveret, sine sanguine im- peraret. Neque amabilis magis, et mansuetus quam domesticus et frugalis; servorum nomina, studia, vitaeque instituta cognovit, in domo sua mensaqueipse paterfamilias, nimirum utqui OEcu- menicus esse debuit, CEconomicus quandoque esse posset. Studia sua et exercitia corporis, (quam cceli et Decembris patientissimus erat) campestria plerumque et in sole fueruiit. Gaudet equis, canibusqtie, et aprici gramine campi, et quo longius a luxuria, oppidoque decessit, eo proxime accessit famae et probitati. Rei mi- litaris non tarn studiosus, quam peritus fuit, coque timore simul a transmarinis optime redde Deo populum suum, l > curre per Alpes, Ro- 255 mamquc diu personatam et histrionicam aut vero cultu induas, aut falso spolies. Hoc unum re- stat faciendum, tuisque illud artibus permissum est, et in tua solius ssecula servatum opus. Nee male prassagiebatRoma prraestigiatrix ilia famelica, qnae longo te jejunio et siti petiit, quae ferro et igni liberalem dat operain, morti priucipum plus quam scientiae et religioni mcumbit, et quasi jam virtuti morbus adhaereret, potius quam invidise, nuilarn non pyxidem, herbamque eruit, quo suis exorcismis, et impudicae nequitia3 superstes non fiat. Tu vero quam facile illudis ejus, et crudelem iiidus- triam antevertis, ni virtus ipsa pro Jesuita, et fe- bris pro veneno est. His tu remediis hac demum medicina sanaris (H. P.) et dum medicus studium, gloria tua, et proprium meritum inter, ficiunt, unus Peleo juveni non sufiicit, Henrico sufficeret (ut transeamfiuitimos) Sabaudia et His- pania ab utraque India timeris, nee audet vexisse tuam Oceanus carinam, atque iisdem non ita pridem 256 atgrotavit Henricus magnus ille Gallise rex, qm ferro et hostili parricidio transfixus Henricis om- nibus mortem propinavit. Credamus tragicis quicquid de Colchide torva Dicitur et Progne : nam clamat Roma peregi, Confiteor, puerisque meis aconita paravi, Quae deprensa patent ; facinus tamen ipsa peregi. Tune duos una saevissima vipera coena ? Tune duos ? Septem, septem si forte fuissent*. Verum credo nihil horum est (Academic!) ora- tionis meae horribilius est non religionis. Egoque cassus olim pulvere Novembris, hodie caecubio, ho- die insanio. Nos utinam vani: Totus igitur est in apparatu Henricus noster quern quaarimus, jam. que aut equo insidet, aut choraeis hasta vel gla- dio dominatur 3 ipse Hymenaeus etiam et nuptias coronat, ovant et triumphant una dulcissima mortalium, pax, Anna et Jacobus, et fervet aniiis * Juvenal Sat. vi. 257 nitentibuf fratri Carolus et totus in illos. Inri. tant, properant, parant Fredericus et Elizabetha, et ver illud perpetuura et poeticum hac solum ia regione deprehenditur. ^Estate priraa Woodsto- chiam suam cogitat Henricus, et vicinam acade- miam adventu primp, scholaresque (quos vocat tuos) accersitj at habeat convivas musas, et si placuerit, convictores ; juvat et meminisse potes- tis, qualis ibi turn in scena prodierit, in qua ipso erat pro triumpho, ipse pro spectaculo. Quotus ilia nocte adeit Henricus ? Quotus princeps, quam inagnificus, quam innocens, cui vel esuriens Jesuita potuit ignoscere. O dementiam suavem, gratissimuni errorem, et religiosum delirium, in ro- bis redivivum Principem, Britanni, jubilate Hen- ricum, O beatum impostorem. Qui istud nee audiunt, nee credunt raalum, nof miseros, qui in ilia hostium multitudine et via for- tuna* viximus, et nescire dolorem non minus sit dif- ficile, quam cognitum extinguere. Quod si TOX po. 216 puli, quae aliquando Dei esse dicitur, cadcm potuii- aetdemorte tua et fama decernere, caruisses hodia lachrimis, et longo nostrorum funeri superfuissei. In te enim non tain morientis fatum, quam pacia, quam reipublicae situm est; non peris sed de- .jtruis, neque mors haecdat, sed confusio; diluvium est, nee caret prodigio. Oraculum est, nee sina acerdote aut pontifice potest intelligi. Quam non mortalis eras Henricus, mortalis ; adeone nonus esse nunquam potes, et nullus esses, brevii est quia bonus, minorque quia mdior. Nobis interim quod reliquum, quam ut festi- netis juvenes, animamque principis fugitivam, per silentium et solitudinem sequamini : ut longitudi- nemvitamque inimicis posthac exoptetis, sociisqu* restris, fratribusque suadeatis, quam sit senectus post fatum principis yilis et ignominiosa. Nos inte- rim Tiri, qui in longiori ludibrio constituti sumus, consulamus huic yitio, facinusque setatis lachrimii sxpiemus ; et experiamur modo utrum anima prin. 259 cipis ex cellens } quae palatio sui corporis clarissimo valedixit, in nostris animis et hisce lachrimarum insulis habitare vclit, certemus invicem pietate, et ingenioso luctu contendamus, summus ne dolor feriet non tolentem satis, nee Tiyentem minus. Dixi. . 260 IN OBITUM DOMINI THOIVLE BODLEII. (Ex Libro cui Titulus " Bodleiomnema ; seu, Canninat Orationes in Obitum ejus." Oxon. 1613. 410. OBRUE Bodleium saxis, prosterne colossis, Adde libros oneri, dimidiasque scholas, Aut lacrymis manes lassa, aut ululante papyro, Quae solet afflictis incubuisse rogis ; Non tamen ejSicies, quin summo in. culmine victor Imperet, et molem perforet ille suam ; Nam famae cedunt lapides, et tecta sepulchris Dum memorant dominos haec monumenta suos. CORRECTIONS. Page 36, verse 1 1 , for ken read hen. 50, ... 7, dele a. 80, ... 10, for consider read consider'd. 94, note, for brought read bought. 100, . . . fa* Guynes read Luyne. 119, line 7, for Nescis read Nescio. 137, verses 4 and 5. It should have been observed, that the Prince and Buckingham on their jour- ney wore false beards for disguises, and assumed the names of Jack and Tom Smith. 144. The two first lines of this beautiful poem are here printed as they are found in the editions of 1647 and 1672; but they stand much better tu Bishop King's Poems, page 51, edit. 1657 : Let no profane ignoble foot tread near This hallow'd peece of earth, Dorset lies her*. Printed for LOWGMAN, HUHST, REES, Paternoster- Rnw. I. SPECIMENS OF THE EARLY ENGLISH POETS. To which is prefixed an Historical Sketch of the Rise and Progress of the ENGLISH POETRY and LANGUAGE. By GEORGE ELLIS, Esq. The Third Edition, corrected. In 3 vols. crown 8vo. Price 11. 11s. 6d. in boards. II. SPECIMENS OF EARLY ENGLISH ME- TRICAL ROMANCES, chiefly written during the early Part of the Fourteenth Century. To which is prefixed, an Historical Introduction, intended to illus- trate the Rise and Progress of Romantic Composition in France and England. By GEORGE ELLIS, Esq. In 3 vols. crown 8vo. Price 11. 7s. in boards. III. SPECIMENS OF THE LATER ENGLISH POETS, with Preliminary Notices, to the Conclusion of the last Century; intended as a Continuation of Mr. Ellis's Specimens of the Early English Poets. By ROBERT SOUTHEY. In 3 vols. crown 8vo. Price 11. 11s. 6d. in boards. Printed far LONGMAN, HURST, REES, and ORME. IV. SIR TRISTREM, a Metrical Romance of the Thirteenth Century. By THOMAS of ERCILDOUNE, called the Rhymer. Edited from the Auchinleck MS. By WALTER SCOTT, Esq. The Second Edition. In One, large Volume, Octavo, printed by Ballantyne. Price 15s. in extra boards. Also written by Mr. SCOTT : 1. The Lay of the Last Minstrel. A Poem. The Fourth Edition. Price 10s. 6d. in boards. 2. Ballads and Lyrical Pieces ; consisting of Glen- finlas, or Lord Ronald's Coronach. The Eve of St. John. Cadyow Castle. The Grey Brother Thomas the Rhymer, Parts 1, 2, and 3. The Fire King. Fre- derick and Alice. The Wild Huntsmen. War Song. The Norman Horse Shoe. The Dying Bard. The Maid of Toro. Hellvellyn. In 1 vol. 8vo. Second dition. Price 7s. 6d. in boards. V These Two Works contain the whole of Mr. Scott's original Poetry. 3. Tlte Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border; consisting of historical and romantic Ballads, collected in the Southern Counties of Scotland ; with a few of a mo- dern Date, founded upon local Tradition. With an Introduction and Notes by the Editor. The Third Edition, in 3 vols. 8vo. Price 11. 16s. in boards. Printed jor LONGMAN, HURST, REES, and ORME. V. THE WORKS OF WALTER SCOTT, ESQ. Elegantly printed on fine yellow wove paper, by Ballantyne, in 5 vols. royal 8vo. Price Five Guineas in extra boards. Vols. 1, 2, and 3, contain the Minstrelsy of the Scot- tish Border; Vol.4, Sir Tristrem, a Metrical Romance; Vol. 5, The Lay of the last Minstrel, with Ballads and Lyrical Pieces. VI. THE POETICAL WORKS OF SIR DAVID LYNDSAY OF THE MOUNT, LION KING AT ARMS, UNDER JAMES V. A new Edition, cor- rected and enlarged, with a Life of the Author, Prefa- tory Dissertations, and an Appropriate Glossary. By GEORGE CHALMERS, F.R.S. S.A. In 3 vols. crown 8vo. Price 11. 16s. in boards. ' We must now conclude our remarks, with expressing our satisfaction at being presented with a new edition of Lyndsay's Works,' which throw so much light on the manners of the age in which they were written." Literary Journal. . Taylor and Co n Shot-Lane. liSJH^^QUBKflHi yflfl ETURN MAIN CIRCULATION ALL BOOKS ARE SUBJECT TO RECALL RENEW BOOKS BY CALLING 642-3405 DUE AS STAMPED BELOW At'k i > 1997 DECEIVED r% Q_C innC iFP u 3 lyjo U- 1 nwuuj-. U.C. BERKELEY LIBRARI!