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My thoughts awhile, like you, imprison'd lay;
Great joys, as well as sorrows, make a stay ;
They hinder ome another in the crowd,
And none are heard, whilst all would speak aloud.
Should every man's officious gladness haste,
And be afraid to show itself the last,
The throng of gratulations now would be
Another loss to you of liberty.
When of your freedom men the news did hear,
Where it was wish'd-for, that is every where,
'Twas like the speech which from your lips does
fall; -
As soon as it was heard, it ravish'd all.
So, eloquent Tully did from exile come;
Thus long'd for he return'd, and cherish'd Rome;
Which could no more h stongue and counsels miss;
Rome, the world's head, was nothing without his.
Wrong to those sacred ashes, I should do,
Should I compare any to him but you;
'ou, to whom Art and Nature did dispense
The consulship of wit and eloquence.
Nor did vour fate differ from his at all,
Because the doom of exile was his fall ;
For the whole world, without a native home,
ls nothing but a prison of larger room.
But like a melting woman suffer'd he,
He who before out-did humanity;
Nor could his spirit constant and stedfast prove.
Whose art’t had been, and greatest end, to move.
You put ill-fortune in so good a dress,
That it out-shone other men's happiness:
Had your prosperity always clearly gone,
As your high merits would have laid it or,
You’ad half been lost, and an example then
Hut for the happy—the least part of men.
Your very sufferings did so graceful shew,
That some strait envy'd your affliction too;
For a clear conscience and heroic mind
In ills their business and ther glory find.
So, though less worthy stones are drown'd in night,
The faithful diamond keeps his native light,
And is oblig'd to darkness for a ray,
That would be more oppress'd than help'd by day.
Your soul then most show'd her unconquer'd pow-

er, Was stronger and more armed than the Tower. Sure unkind Fate will tempt your spirit no more; Sh' has try’d her weakness and your strength before. To oppose him still, who once has conquer'd so, Were now to be your rebel, not your foe; Fortune henceforth will more of providence have, And rather be your friend than be your slave.

TO A LADY

who Madra Posies for Rings.

I trile thought the time would ever be,

That I should wit in dwarfish posies see.
As all words in few letters live,
Thou to few words all sense dost give.
'Twas Nature taught you this rare art,
In such a little much to shew ;
Who, all the good she did impart

To womankind, epitomiz'd in you.

If, as the arcents did not doubt to sing,
The turning years be well compar'd to a ring,

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We'll write whate'er from you we hear; For that’s the posy of the year.” This difference only will remain— That Time his former face does shew, Winding into himself again; But your unweary'd witis always new.

"Tis said, that conjurers have an art found out

To carry spirits confin'd in rings about:
The wonder now will less appear,
When we behold your nagic here.
You, by your rings, do prisoners take,
And chain them with your mystic spells,
And, the strong witchcraft full to make,

Love, the great Devil, charm'd to those circles,

dwells.

They, who above do various circles find,

Say, like a ring, th' equator Heaven does bind.
When Heaven shall be adorn'd by thee
(Which then more Heaven than 'tis will be)
'Tis thou must write the posy there,
For it wanteth one as yet,
Though the Sun poss through't twice a year;

The Sun, who is esteem'd the god of wit.

Happy the hands which wear thy sacred rings,
They'll teach those hands to write mysterious
things.
Let other rings, with jewels bright,
Cast around their costly light;
Let them want no noble stone,
By nature rich and art refin'd; -
Yet shall thy rings give place to none, .
But only that which must thy marriage bind.

PROLOGUE TO THE GUARDIAN:

Before The Prince.

Who says the times do learning disallow?
'Tis fase; 'twas never honour’d so as now.
When you appear, great prince tour night is done;
You are our morning-star, and shall be our sun.
But our scene's London now ; and by the rout
we perish, if the Round-heads be about:
For now no ornament the head must wear,
No bays, no mitre, not so much as hair.
How can a play pass safely, when we know
Cheapside-cross falls for making but a show *
Our only hope is this, that it may be
A play may pass too, made extempore.
Though other arts poor and neglected grow,
They'll admit poesy, which was always so.
But we contemn the fury of these days. a
And scorm no less their censure than their praise:
Our Muse, blest prince' does only on you rely ;
Would gladly live, but not refuse to die.
Accept our hasty zeal! a thing that’s play'd
Fre 'tis a play, and acted ere 'tis made.
our ignorance, but our duty too, we show ;
I would all ignorant people would do so
At other times expect our wit or art;
This comedy is acted by the heart.

- THE EPILOGUE. The play, great sir! is done; yet needs must fear, Though you brought all your father's mercies here, It may offend your highness; and we’ave now Three hours done treason here, for aught we know.

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My sweet companion, and my gentle peer,
Why hast thou left me thus unkindly here,
Thy end for ever, and my life, to moan?
O, thou hast left me all alone!
Thy soul and body, when death's agony
Besieg'd around thy noble heart,
Did not with more reluctance part,
Than 1, my dearest friend! do part from thee.

My dearest friend, would I had dy'd for thee!
Life and this world henceforth will tedious be.
Nor shall I know hereafter what to do,
If once my griefs prove tedious too.
Silent and sad I walk about all day,
As sullen ghosts stalk speechless by
Where their hid treasures lie;
Alas! my treasure's gone ! why do I stay ?
He was my friend, the truestfriend on Earth;
A strong and fuighty influence join'd our birth;
Nor did we envy the most sounding name
By friendship given of old to Fame.
None but his brethren he, and sisters, knew,
Whom the kind youth preferr'd to me;
And ev’n in that we did agree,
For much above myself I lov'd them too.

Say, for you saw us, ye immortal lights,

How oftumweary'd have we spent the nights,

Till the Ledaean stars, so fam'd for love,
Wonder'd at us from above '

We spent them not in toys, in lusts, or wine;
But search of deep philosophy,
Wit, eloquence, and poetry,

Arts which I lov'd, for they, my friend, were thine.

Ye fields of Cambridge, our dear Cambridge, say
Have ye not seem us walking every day ?
Was there a tree about which did not know
The love betwixt us two 2
Henceforth, ye gentle trees, for ever fade;
Or your sad branches thicker join,
And into darksome shades combine,
Dark as the grave wherein my friend is laid!

Henceforth, no learned youths bencath you sing, Till all the tuneful birds to your boughs they bring;

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He scorn'd this busy world below, and all
That we, mistaken mortals' pleasure call;
Was fill'd with innocent gallantry and truth,
Triumphant o'er the sins of youth.
He, like the stars, to which he now is gone,
That shine with beams like flame,
Yet burn not with the same,
Had all the light of youth, of the fire none.

Knowledge he only sought, and so soon caught,
As if for him Knowledge had rather sought:
Nor did more learning ever crowded lie
In such a short mortality.
Whene'er the skilful youth discours'd or writ,
Still did the motions throng
About his eloquent tongue,
Nor could his ink flow faster than his wit.

So strong a wit did Nature to him frame,
As all things but his judgment overcame;
His judgment like the heavenly moon did show,
Tempering that mighty sea below.
Oh! had he liv'd in Learning's world, what bound
Would have been able to control
His over-powering soul;
We 'ave lost in him arts that not yet are found.

His mirth was the pure spirits of various wit,
Yet never did his God or friends forget;
And, when deep talk and wisdom came in view,
Retird, and gave to them their due:
For the rich help of books he always took,
Though his own searching mind before
Was so with notions written o'er
Asif wise Nature had made that her book.

So many virtues join'd in him, as we

Can scarce pick here and there in history;

More than old writers' practice e'er could reach; As much as they could ever teach.

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Sitecum mihi, chare Martialis, &c.
I. v. Ep. xx.
Ir, dearestfriend, it my good fate might be
To enjoy at once a quiet life and thee;
If we for happiness could leisure find,
And wandering Time into a method bind;
We should not sure the great-men's favour need,
Nor on long hopes, the court's thin diet, feed;
We should not patience find daily to hear
The calumnies and flatteries spoken there;
We should not the lords' tables humbly use,
Or talk in ladies' chambers love and news;
But books, and wise discourse, gardens and fields,
And all the joys that ummixt Nature yields;
Thick summer shades, where winter still does lie,
Bright winter fires, that summer's part supply:
Sleep, not control’d by cares, confin'd to night,
Or bound in any rule but appetite: -
Free, but not savage or ungracious mirth,
Rich wines, to give it quick and easy birth;
A few companions, which ourselves should chuse,
| A gentle mistress, and a gentler Muse.
soon friend! such, without doubt, should
e

Our place, our business, and our company.
Now to himself, alas ! does neither live.
But sees good suns, of which we are to give
A strict account, set and march thick away:
Knows a man how to live, and does he stay?

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Alternately they sway’d, And sometimes Mary was the fair, And sometimes Anne the crown did wear,

And sometimes both I obey'd.

Another Mary then arose,
And did rigorous laws impose;
A mighty tyrant she'

Long, alas ! should I have been

Under that iron-scepter'd queen,
Had not Rebecca set me free.

When fair Rebecca set me free,
‘Twas then a golden time with me:
But soon those pleasures fled;

For the gracious princess dy'd,

In her youth and beauty's pride,
And Judith reigned in her stead.

One month, three days, and half an hour, Judith held the sovereign power: Wondrous beautiful her face

But so weak and small her wit,

That she to govern was unfit,
And so Susanna took her place.

But when Isabella came,
Arm'd with a resistless flame,
And th’ artillery of her eye;

Whilst she proudly march'd about,

Greater conquests to find out,
She beat out Susan by the by.

But in her place I then obey'd Black-ey'd Bess, her vice.oy maid; To whom ensued a vacancy: Thousand worse passions then possest • The interregnum of my breast; Bless me from such an anarchy!

Gentle Henrietta then,
And a third Mary, next began;
Then Joan, and Jane, and Audria;

And then a pretty Thomasine,

And then another Katharine,
And then a long et caetera.

But should I now to you relate
The strength and riches of their state,
The powder, patches, and the pins,

The ribbons, jewels, and the rings,

The lace, the paint, and warlike things, That make up all their magazines;

If I should tell the politic arts
To take and keep men's hearts;
The letters, embassies, and spies,

The frowns, and smiles, and flatteries,

The quarrels, tears, and perjuries, (Numberless, nameless, mysteries 1)

And all the little lime-twigs laid,
By Machiavel the waiting maid;
I more voluminous should grow

(Chiefly if I like them should tell

All change of weathers that befell)
Than Holinshed or Stow.

But I will briefer with them be,
Since few of them were long with me.
An higher and a nobler strain

My present emperess does claim,

Heleonora, first o' th' name;
Whim God grant long to reign :

TO SIR WILLIAM DAPENANT,

upon his two finst Books or condiarr'r, FINISHED BEFORE his voyage oro AMERica.

Methinks heroic poesy till now, Like some fantastic fairy-land did show ; Gods, devils, nymphs, witches, and giants' race, And all but man, in man's chief work had place. Thou, like some worthy knight with sacred arms, Dost drive the monsters thence, and end the charms, Instead of those dost men and manners plant, The things which that rich soil did chiefly want. Yet ev'n thy mortals do their gods excel, Taught by thy Muse to fight and love so well. By fatal hands whilst present empires fall, Thine from the grave past monarchies recall ; So much more thanks frem human-kind does merit The poet's fury than the zealot's spirit: And from the grave thou mak'st this empire rise, Not like some dreadful ghost, to affright our eyes, But with more lustre and triumphant state, Than when it crown'd at proud Verona sate. So will our God rebuild man's perish'd frame, And raise him up much better, yet the same: So god-like poets do past things rehearse, Not change, but heighten, Nature by their verse. With shame, methinks, great Italy must see Her conquerors rais’d to life again by thee: Rais'd by such powerful verse, that ancient Rome May blush no less to see her wit o'ercome. Some men their fancies, like their faith, derive, And think all ill but that which Rome does give; The marks of old and Catholic would find; To the same chair would truth and fiction bind. Thou in those beaten paths disdain'st to tread, And scorn'st to live by robbing of the dead. Since Time does all things change, thou think'st not fit This latter age should see all new but wit; Thy fancy, like a flame, its way does make, And leave brighttracts for following pens to take. Sure 'twas this noble boldness of the Muse Did thy desire to seek new worlds infuse; And ne'er did Heaven so much a voyage bless, If thou canst plant but there with like success.

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As to a northern people (whom the Sun
Uses just as the Romish church has done
Her prophane laity, and does assign
Bread only both to serve for bread and wine)
A rich Canary fleet welcome arrives;
Such comfort to us here your letter gives,
Frought with brisk racy verses; in which we
The soil from whence they came taste, smell, and
see;
Such is your present to us; for you must know,
Sir, that verse does not in this island grow,
No more than sack: one lately did not fear
(Without the Muses' leave) to plantithere;
But it produc’d such base, rough, crabbed, hedge,
Rhymes, as ev'n set the hearers' ears on edge:
Written by — esquire, the
Year of our Lord six hundred thirty-three.

Brave Jersey Muse! and he's for this high style
Call'd to this day the Homer of the isle.
Alas! to men here no words less hard be
To rhyme with, than 4 Mount Orgueil is to me;
Mount Orgueil which, in scorn o' th' Muses law,
With no yoke-fellow word will deign to draw.
Stubborn Mount Orgueil ' ' tis a work to make it
Come into rhyme, more hard than 'twere to take it.
Alas! to bring your tropes and figures here,
Strange as to bring camels and elephants were;
And metaphor is so unknown a thing,
'Twould need the preface of God save the king.
Yet this I'll say, for th' honour of the place,
That, by God sextraordinary grace
(Which shows the people have judgment, if not wit)
The land is undefil'd with clinches yet;
Which, in my poor opinion, I confess,
Isa most singular blessing, and no less
Than Ireland's wanting spiders. And, so far
From th’ actual sin of bombast too they are,
(That other crying sin o' th' English Muse)
That even Satan himself can accuse
None here (no not so much as the divines)
For th’ motus primd primi to strong lines.
Well, since the soil then does not naturally bear
Verse, who (a devil) should import it here 2
For that to me would seem as strange a thing
As who did first wild beasts int’ islands bring;
t"nless you think that it might taken be,
As Green did Gondibert, in a prize at sea:
But that’s a fortune falls not every day;
*Tis true Green was made by it; for they say
The parl'ament did a noble bounty do,
and gave him the whole prize, their tenths and
fifteenths too.

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Tassacred tree midst the fair orchard grew ;
The Phoenix Truth did on it rest,
And built his perfum’d nest:
That right Porphyrian tree which did true logie
shew.
Each leaf did learned notions give,
And th' apples were demonstrative:
So clear their colour and divine,
The very shade they cast did other lights out-shine.
“Taste not,” said God, “tis mine and angels'
meat;
A certain death doth sit,
Like an ill worm, i' th' core of it.
Ye cannot know and live, nor live or know, and eat.”
Thus spoke God, yet man did go
Ignorantly on to know;
Grew so more blind, and she
Who tempted him to this grew yet more blind
than he.

The only science man by this did get,
Was but to know he nothing knew:
He straight his nakedness did view,

His ignorant poorestate, and was asham'd of it.
Yet searches probabilities,
And rhetoric, and fallacies,

* The name of one of the castles in Jersey.

And seeks by useless pride, With slight and withering leaves that nakedness to hide.

“Henceforth,” said God, “the wretched sons of
Earth

Shall sweat for food in vain,
That will not long sustain ;

And bring with labour forth each fond abortive birth.
That serpent too, their pride,
Which aims at things deny'd;
That learn’d and eloquent lust;

Instead of mounting high, shall creep upon the dust.”

REASOM, the use of it in divine Martetts.

Some blind themselves, 'cause possibly they may
Beled by others a right way;
They build on sands, which if unulov'd they find,
'Tis but because there was no wind.
Less hard 'tis, not to err ourselves, than know
If our forefathers err'd or no.
When we trust men concerning God, we then
Trust not God concerning mem.
Visions and inspirations some expect
Their course here to direct;
Like senseless chymists their own wealth destroy,
Imaginary gold to enjoy:
So stars appear to drop to us from sky,
And gild the passage as they fly;
But when they fall, and meet th' opposing ground,
What but a sordid slime is found 2

Sometimes their fancies they 'bove reason set,
And fast, that they may dream of meat;
Sometimes ill spirits their sickly souls delude,
And bastard forms obtrude;
So Fndor's wretched sorceress, although
She Saul through his disguise did know,
Yet, when the devil comes up disguis'd, she cries,
“Behold ! the Gods arise.”

In vain alas ! these outward hopes are try’d;
Reason within's our only guide;
Reason, which (God be prais'd') still walks, for all
Its old orig'nal fall;
And, since itself the boundless Godhead join'd
With a reasonable mind, -
It plainly shows that mystemies divine
May with our reason join.

The holy book,like the eighth sphere, does shius
With thousand lights of truth divine:
So numberless the stars, that to the eye
It makes but all one galaxy.
Yet Reason must assist too; for, in seas
So vast and dangerous as these,
Our course by stars above we cannot know,
Without the compass too below.

Though Reason cannot through Faith's mysteries
see,
It sees that there and such they be ;
Leads to Heaven's door,and there does humbly keep,
And there through chinks and key-holes Pce: ;
Though it, like Moses, by a sad commoud,
Must not come into th’ Holy Land,
Yet thither it infallibly does guide,
And from afar ’tis all descry’d.

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