Sivut kuvina

O canst thou be so stupid then, so dim,

Moves us, we are all equall every whit; To seeke a saving influence, and lose him? Of land that God gives men, here is their wit Can stars protect thee? or can poverty,

If we consider fully for our best, Which is the light to Heaven, put out his eye? And gravest men will with his maine honse jest, He is my star, in him all truth I find,

Scarce please you, we want subtilty to do All influence, all fate, and when my mind

The city tricks, lye, hate, and flatter too; Is furnished with his fulnesse, my poore story Here are none that can beare a painted show, Should out-live all their age, and all their glory. Strike when you winch, and then lament the blows The hand of danger cannot fall amisse,

Who like mils, set the right way for to grind, When I know wbat, and in whose power it is : Can make their gaines alike with ev'ry wind : Nor want, the cause of man, shall make me groane, Only some fellows with the subtil'st pate A holy hermit is a mind alone.

Amongst us, may perchance equivocate Doth not experience teach us all we can

At selling of a horse, and that the most ; To worke our selves into a glorious man?

Methinks the little wit I had is lost Love's but an exhalation to best eyes,

Since I saw you, for a wit is like a rest,
The matter spent, and then the foole's fire dies; Held up a tennis, which men do the best
Were I in love, and could that bright slar bring With the best gamesters: what things have we seen
Increase to wealth, hopour, and ev'ry thing ; Done at the Mermaid? Hard words that hare been
Were she as perfect good as we can aime,

So nimble, and so full of subtill fame,
The first was so, and yet she lost the game. As if that every one from whence they came
My mistris then be knowledge, and faire truth; Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest,
So I enjoy all beauty, and all youth:

And had resolvid to live a foole the rest
And though to time her lights and laws she lends, Of his dull life; then when there hath been thrown
She knows no age that to corruption bends. Wit able enough to justifie the town
Friends' promises may lead me to believe,

For three daies past, wit that might warrant be But he that is his own friend knows to live;

For the whole city to take foolishly Amiction when I know it is but this,

Till that were cancell'd, and when that was gone A deep allay whereby man tougher is

We left an aire behind us, which alone To beare the hammer and the deeper still,

Was able to make the two next companies (wise: We still arise more image of his will;

Riglit witty, though but down-right fooles more
Sicknesse an hum'rous cloud 'twixt us and light, When I remember this, and see that now
And death, at longest, but another night.

The country gentlemen begin t' allow
Man is his own star, and that soule that can My wit for dry bobs, then I needs must cry,
Be honest, is the only perfect man.

I see my days of ballatin grow nigh;
I can already riddle, and can sing
Catches, sell bargaines, and I feare shall bring

My selfe to speake the hardest words I find
MR. FRANCIS BEAUMONT'S LETTER TO Over as oft as any with one wind

That takes no med'cines : but one thought of thee

Makes me remember all these things to be. WRITTEN BEFORE 11C AND MR. FLETCHER CAME TO

The wit of our young men, fellows that show LONDON,

No part of good, yet utter all they know; DIES THEN NOT FINISHED, WHICH DEFERRED THEIR

Who, like trecs of the guard, bave growing soules,

Only strong destiny, which all controules,
The Sun which doth the greatest comfort bring I hope hath left a better fate in store
To absent friends, because the selfe same thing

Por me, thy friend, than to live ever poore.
They know they see, however absent is,

Banisht unto this home-fate once againe, (plaine (Here our best hay-maker, forgive me this,

Bring me to thee, who canst make smooth and It is our countrie's seile) in this warme shine The way of knowledge for me, and then I, I lie and dreame of your full Mermaid wine;

Who have no good but in thy company, () we have water mixt with claret lees,

Protest it will my greatest comfort be Drinke apt to bring in drier heresi:'s

To acknowledge all I have to flow from thee. 'Than here, good only for the sonnet's straine, Ben, when these scenes are perfect wee'l taste With fustian metaphors to stuiffe the braine;


(mine. So inixt, that given to the thirstiest one

Ple drinke thy Muses health, thou shalt quaffe "Twill not prove almes, unlesse lie have the stone : Thinke with one draught man's invention fades, Two cups had quite spoil'd Homer's liades ; "T'is liquor that will find out Sutclifts, wit,

O.V FRANCIS BEAUMONT'S DEATH. Like where he will, and make him write worse yet ;

DY BISHOP CORBET". Till'd with such morsture, in most grievous qualmes Did Robert Wis.lome write his singing psalmes : He that had youth, and friends, and so much wit And so must I do this, and yet I thinke

As would aske five good wits to husband it: It is a portion sent us downe to drinke

lle that hath wrote so well, that no man dare By special providence, keeps us from fights, Refuse it for the best, let him beware, Mate us not laugh #ben we make legs to knights : Beaumont is dead, by which our art appeares, 'Tis this that keeps our minds fit for our states, Wit's a disease consumes one in few yeares. A medicine to obey our magistrates ; For we do live more free than you, no hate,

· Altered by the bishop afterwards. See his No envy at one another's bappy state

poems. C.





Pitty their dulnesse; we that better know,

Will a more scrious houre on thee bestow; ELEGY UPON MR. FRANCIS BEAUMONT.

Why should not Beaumont in the morning please,

As well as Plautus, Aristophanes ? Beaumont lies here, and where now shall we have who, if my pen may, as my faults, be free, A Muse, like his, to sigh upon his grave?

Were humble wits, and buffoons both to thee: Ah none to weep this with a worthy teare,

Yet those our learned of severest brow, Bat he that cannot, Beaumont, that lies here;

Will deigue to looke on, and so note them too; Who dow shall pay this tombe with such a verse,

That will defie our own, bis English stuffe,
As thon that ladie's did'st, faire Rutland's hearse? And th' authour is not rotten long enough:
A monument that will then lasting be,

Alas, how ill are they compard to thee,
When all her marble is more dust than she: In thy Philaster, or Maid's Tragedy?
In thee all's lost, a sudden dearth and want

W'here's such a bumour as thy Bessas? nay,
Hath seiz'd on wit, good epitaphs are scant:

Let them put all their treasures in one play, We dare not write thy elegy, for each feares

He shall out-bid them, their conceit was poore, He ne're shall match a copy of thy teares;

All in the circle of a bawd or whore, Scarce yet in age a poet, and yet he

A cozening take the foole away, Scarce lives the third part of his age to see;

And not a good jest extant in a play: But quickly taken off, and only known,

Yet these are wits, th’are old, that's it, and now Is in a minute shut as soone as blown.

Be'ng Grecke, or Latin, they are learning too; Why should weake nature tyre her selfe in vaine,

But those their own times were content t' allow In such a peece, and cast it straight againe?

A thriftier fame, and thine is lowest now, Why should she take such worke beyond her skill,

But thou shalt live, and when thy name is grown And when she cannot perfect she must kill;

Six ages elder, shall be better known: Alas, what is't to temper slime and mirc?

When th’art of Chaucer's standing in thy tombe, Then's nature pussel'd when the work's intire: Thou shalt not shame, but take up all his roome. Great braines, like bright glass, crackle straight,

while those
Of stone and wood nold out and feare no blows;
And we their ancient boary heads can see,

Whose wit was never their mortality.
Reaumont dies young, so Sydney dy'd before,


Owned Spencer lye a thought more nigh There was not poetry, he could live po more :

To learned Chancer, and rare Beaumont lye He could not grow up higher, nay, I scarce know, A little nearer Spencer, to make roome Iflt' art it selfe unto that pitch could grow, For Shakespeare in your threefold, fourfold tombe, Wer't not in thee, who hadse arriv'd to th' height To lodge all foure in one bed make a shift Of all that art could reach, or nature might.

Untill doom's day, for hardly will a fifth Oh, when I read those excellent things of thine,

Betwixt this day, and that by fates be slaine, Sush strength, such sweetnesse, couch'd in every For whom your curtaines may be drawn againe. line;

If your precedency in death do barre Such life of fancy, such high choice of braine, A fourth place in your sacred sepulchre, Nought of the vulgar mint, or borrow'd straine;

linder this sacred marble of thine owne, Such passions, such expressions, meet mine eye, Sleep rare tragoedian Shakespeare! sleep alonc. Such wit untainted with obscenity :

Thy unmolested peace in an unshared care,

li And these só unaffectedly exprest,

Posscsse as lord, not tenant of thy grave; But all in a pure flowing language drest ;

That unto us, and other; it may be,
So new, so fresh, so nothing trod upon,

liouour bereafter to be laid by thec.
And all so borne within thy selfe, thine oun:
I grieve not now that old Meander's veine
Is roin'd, to survive in thee againe:
Snch in his time was he, of tlie same peece,

The smooth, even naturall wit, and love of Greece, Here lies Joenson with the rest
Whose few sententious fragments show more worth of the posts: but the best
Than all the poets Athens e're brought forth :

Reader, wo'dst thou more hare known?
And I am sorry I hare lost thosc houres

Aske bis story, not this stone;
On them, whose quicknesse comes far short of ours, That will speake what this can't tell
And dwelt not more on thee, whose every page Of his glory. So farewel.
May be a patterne to tlieir scene and age;
I will not yeeld thy worth so ineane a praise,

More pure, more chaste, more sainted than are
Nor with that dull supinenesse to be read, (plajes : THE Moses fairest light in no darke time;
To passe a fire, or laugh an houre in bed :

The wonder of a learned age; the line \ Ilow do the Muses suffer every where?

That none can passe; the most proportion'd wit Taken in such months, sensur'd in such eares ; To Nature; the best judge of what was fit: That 'twist a wifit, a line or two rehearse,

The deepest, plainest, highest, clearest pen; And with iheir rheume together, spawle a verse:

The voice mout eccho'd by consenting mer: 'Tis all a ponie's leasure after play,

The soule which answer'd best to all well said
Drinke and tobacco, it may spend the day; By others; and which most requitall made:
Whilst even their very idlenesse they thinke,
I lost in these, that lose their times in drinke:

* Afterwards bishop of Salisbury: C.

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Tun'd to the highest key of ancient Rome, The more to procure me, then he did adjure me Returning all her inusic with broan,

If the ale i dranke last were nappy and stale,
In whom with Nature, study clain'd a part, To do it its right, and stir up my sprite,
And yet who to himselfe ow'd all his art.

And fall to coinmend a &c.
Here lees Ben Johnson, every age will look
With sorrow here, with wonder on his book.

Quoth I, “ To commend it I dare not begin,

Lest therein my credit might happen to faile;
For many men now do count it a sin,

But once to look toward a &c.

“ Yet I care not a pin, for I see no such sin,

Nor any thing else my courage to quaile : At Delphos' shrine, one did a doubt propound,

For, this we do find, that take it in kind,

Much vertue there is in a &c.
Which by th' oracle must be released,
Whether of poets were the best renown'd:

“ And I mean not to taste, though thereby much Those that survive, or they that are deceased ?

grac't, The gods made answer by divine suggestion,

Nor the merry-go-down without pall or bale, While Spencer is alive, it is no question.

Perfuming the throat, when the stomack's afloat,

With the fragrant sweet seut of a &c.


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“ Nor yet the delight that comes to the sight,

To see how it flowers and mantles in graile,
As greene as a leeke, with a smile in the cheeke,

The true orient colour of a &c.
“ But I meane the mind, and the good it doth find;

Not only the body, so feeble and fraile:
For body and soule may blesse the black bowle,

Since both are beholden to a &c.

MORTALITY, behold, and feare,
What a change of flesh is here!
Thinke how many royall bones
Sleep within these heap of stones;
Here they lye, had realmes, and lands,
Who now want strength to stir their hands;
Where from their pulpits seal'd with dust,
They preach, “ In greatnesse is no trust."
Here's an acre sown indend,
With the richest, royall'st seed,
That the earth did pre suck in,
Since the first man dy'd for sin :
Here the bones of birth have cry'd,
“ Though gods they were, as then they dy'd :"
Here are sands, ignoble things,
Dropt from the ruin'd sides of kings.

Here's a world of pomp and state
Buried in dust, once dead by fate

“ Por, when heavinesse the mind doth oppresse,

And sorrow and griefe the heart do assaile,
No remedy quicker than to take off your liquor,

and to wash away cares with a &c.
“ The widow that buried her husband of late,

Will soon have forgotten to weep and to waile,
And thinke ev'ry day twaine, till she marry againe,

If she read the contents of a &c.
“ It is like a belly-blast to a cold heart,

And warms, and eugenders the spirits vitale,
To keep them from domage, all sp'rits owe their

To the sp'rite of the buttery, a &c. (homage “ And down to the legs the vertue doth go,

And to a bad foot-man is as good as a saile ; When it fils the veines, and makes light the braines,

No lackey so nimble as a &c. “ The nakeil complains not for want of a coat,

Nor on the cold weather will once turne his taile; All the way as he goes he cuts the wind with his

If he be but well wrapt in a &c. (nose, “ The hungry man takes no thought for his meat,

Tho'his stomach would brook a ten-penny naile ; He quite forgets bunger, thinks on it no longer,

If he touch but the sparkes of a &c.
“ The poor man will praise it, so hath he good cause,
That all the yeare eats neither partridge nor

But sets up his rest, and makes up his feast

With a crust of brown bread, and a &c.
“ The shepheard, the sower, the thresher, the

(Haile, The one with his scyth, the other with his Take them out by the poll, on the perill of my soll,

All will hold up their bands to a &c.

THE EX-ALE-TATION OF ALE. Nor drunken, nor sober, but neighbour to both,

I met with a friend in Ales-bury vale; He saw by my face, that I was in the case.

To speake no great harme of a pot of good also Then did he me greet, and said, “ Since we meet ”

(And he put me in mind of the name of the dale) “ For Ales-bury's sake some paines I would take,

And not bury the praise of a pot of good ale."

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« The black-smith, whose bellows all summer do “ And the musician, of any condition, blow,

It will make bim reach to the top of his scale : With the fire in his face still, without e're a vaile, It will cleare bis pipes, and moisten his lights, Though his throat be full dry, be will tell you a lye,

If he drink alteruatim a &c. But where you may be sure of a &c.

“The poet divine, that cannot reach wine, “ Who ever denjes it, the pris'ners will praise it,

Because that his money doth many times faile, That beg at the grate, and lye in the goale :

Will hit on the veine to make a god streine, For, even in their fetters, they thinke theinselves

If he be but inspired with a &c. better,

“ For ballads Elderton' never had prere, [gale; May they get but a two penny black pot of ale.

How went his wit in them, with how merry a “ The begger, whose portion is alwaies his prayers,

And with all the sailes up, had he been at the cup,

And washed his beard with a &c. Not having a tatter to hang on his taile, ls as rich in his rags, as the churle in his bags, “ Aud the power of it shows, no whit lesse in prose, If he once but shakes hands with a &c.

It will ile one's phrase, and set forth his tale : * It drives bis poverty cleane out of minil,

Fill him but a boule, it will make his tongue troule,

for flowing speech flows from a &c. Forgetting his brown bread, his wallet, and inaile; He walks in the house like a six-footed louse, “And master philosopher, if he drinke his part, If once he be enricht with a &c.

Will not trifle his time in the huske or the shale, “ And he that doth dig in the ditches all day,

But go to the kernell uy the depth of bis art,

To be found in the bottoine of a &c. And wearies himselfe quite at the plough-taile, Will speake no less things than of queens and of “ Give a scholar of Oxford a pot of sixteen, If he touch but the top of a &c. [kings, And put bim to prove that an ape hath 10 taile,

And sixteen times better his wit will be “ ?Tis like a whetstone to a blunt wit,

seen, And makes a supply where nature doth faile:

If you fetch bim froin Botley a &c. The dullest wit soon will look quite thro' the Moon, “ Thus it belps speech and wit: and it hurts not If his temples be wet with a &c.

a whit, “ Then Dick to his dearling full boldly dares speake, then thinke it not much if a little I touch

Bit rather doth further the virtues morale, Tho' before (silly fellow) bis courige did quaile, He gives her the sinouch, with his hand on bis puuch,

The good morall parts of a &c. If he meet by the way with a &c.

" To the church and religion it is a good friend, « And it makes the carter a conrtier straight-way, That at every smile, next to the church stile,

Or else our fore-fathers their wisdome did faile, Witb rhetoricall termes he will tell his tale; With courtesias great store, and his cap up before,

Set a conscerate house to a &c. Being school'd but a little witb a &c.

“But now, as they say, beerc beares it away;

The more is tie pirty, if right might prevaile : “ The old man, whose tongue wags faster than his

For, with this same leer, came up heresie here, teeth,

The old catholic drinke is a &c. (For old-aze by nature doth drivell and drale) Will stir and will fling like a dog in a string, “ The churches minch ow, as we all do know; If he ware his cold blood with a &c.

For when tbey be drooping and ready to fall,

By a Whitson or Church-ale up againe they shall " And the good old clarke, whose sight waxeth

Aud one their repairing to a &c.

[go, And ever he thinkes the print is to small, (darke, He will see erery letter, and say service beiter,

“ Truth will do it right, it brings truth to light, If he glaze but his eyes with a &c.

And many bad matters it helps to reveale:

Fur, ihes that will drinke, will speake what they “ The cheekes and the jaws to commend it have Tom iell-troth lies hid in a &c. [thinke;

cause ; For where they were late but even wan and pale, " It is justice's friend, she will it commend, They will get then a colour, nu crimson is fuller, For all is here served by measure and tale: By the true die and liucture of a &c.

Now true-lale and good measure are justice's

And inuch to the praise of a &c. (treasure, “ Marke hes ennemies, though they thinke themselves wire,

“ And next I allcadze, it is fortitude's edge: How meayre they look, with how low a waile, For a very cow-beard, that shrinkes like a spaile, How their cheeks do fall, without spirits at all, Will sweare and will swagger, and out gors his That alien their minds froin a &c.

If he be but arm'd with a &c. [dagger, " And now that the graios do worke in my brains, “ Yea, ale hath her knights and squires of degree, Me thinks I were able to give by retaile

'That never wore corslet, nor yet shirt of maile, Commoslities store, a dozen and more,

But have fought their fights all, 'twixt the pot and That flow to ipankind from a &c.

the wall,

When once they were dubb'd with a &c. " The Muses would muse any should it misuse :

For it makes them to sing like a nightingale, With a lofty trim note, having washed their throat "A drunken balladmaker, of whom see "l'arton's With the caballine spring of a &c.

Hist. of Poetry, vol. iv. p. 40, 41. C.

“ And sure it will make a man suddenly wise, “ The north they will praise it, and praise it with E're while was scarce able to tell a right tale :

passion, It will open his jaw, he will tell you the law, Where every river gives name to a dale : As made a right bencher of a &c.

There men are yet living that are of th'old fashion, “ Or he that will make a bargaine to gaine,

No nectar they know but a &c. In buying or setting his goods forth to sale, “ The Picts and the Scots for ale were at lots, Must not plod in the mire, but sit by the fire, So liigh was the shill, and so kept under scale : And scale up his match with a &c.

The Picts were undone, slain each mother's son, “ But for sobernesse needs must I confesse,

For not teaching the Scots to make hether eale. The matter goes hard : and few do privaile

“ But hither or thither, it skils not much whether: Not to go tou diep, but temper to keep,

Por drinke must be hud, men live not by kale, Such is the attractive of a &c.

Nor by haror bancocks, nor by havor-jannocks, “But here's an amenr's, which will make all friends, The ibing the Scots live ou is a &c.

And ever doth tend to the best availe;
If you take it too deep, it will make you but sleep;

“Now, if you will say it, I will not depay it, So comes no great harme of a &c.

That many a man it brings to his bale:

Yet what fairer end can one wish to his friend, * If (reeling) they happen to fall to the ground, Thau to die by the part of a &c.

The fall is not great, they may bold by the raile : If into the water, they cannot be drown'u,

“ Yet let not the innocent beare any blame, For that gift is given to a &c.

It is their own doings to breake o're the pale :

And neither the malt, nor the good wife in fault, “ If drioking about they chance to fall out,

If any be putted with a &c.
Feare not the alarm, though Mish be but fraile,
It will prore but some blous, or at most a bloudiy

“ They tell whom it kills, but say not a word, And friends agaiue straight with a &c. (nose,

How many a man liveth botlı sound and hale,

Though he drinke no beere any day in the yeare, “ And physic will favour ale as it is bound,

By the radicall humour of a &c.
And be against beere both tooth and naile:
They send up and down, all over the town,

“ But, to speake of killing, that am I not willing;

For that, in a manner, were but to raile : Țo get for their patients a &c.

But beere hath its name, 'cause it brings to the “ Their ale-berries, cawdles, and possets each one, Therefore well-fare, say I, to a &c. [biere,

And syllabubs made at the milking-paile, Alihough tbey he many, beere comes not in any, “ Too many (I wis) with their deaths proved this, But all are composed with a &c.

And therefore (if ancient records do not faile)

He that first brew'd the hop was rewarded with a And in very deed the hop's but a weed,

rope, Brought o're against law, and here set to sale:

And found his beere far more bitter than ale. Would the law were renew'd, and no inore beere But all good men bu take them to a &c. (biew'd, “ () ale ab olendo! thou liquor of life!

That I had but a mouth as big as a whale ! “ 'The law, that will take it under her wing :

For mine is too little to touch the least tiltle For, at every law-day, or moot of the liale,

That belongs to the praise of a &r.
One is sworne to serve our soveraigne the king,
In the ancient office of a cooner of ale.

“ Thus, I trow, some vertues I have marked you

and never a vice in all this long traile, (out, « There's never a lord of mannor or of town,

But that after the pot there cometh a shot,
By strand or by land, by hill or by dale,

And that's th'only blot of a &c."
But tbinks it a franchise, and a flow'r of the crown,
To hold the assize of a &c.

With that my friend said, “ That blot will I beare,

You have done very well, it is time to strike saile, “ And though there lie writs, from the courts Wee'l have six pots more, tho' I die on the score, paramount,

To make all this good of a pol of good ale." To stay the proceedings of the courts paravaile; Law favours it so, you may come, you may go,

There lies no prohibition to a &c. " They talke much of state both early and late, But if Gascoign and Spain their wine should hut

TIIE GOOD FELLOW. Nurmedy thieu, with us Englishmen, [twile, Whey shall we meet againe to have a taste Lut the state it must stand by a &c.

Of that transcendent ale we dravke of last ? And they that sit by it are good men and quiet, To make her drinke withall? It made ne lose

What wild ingredient did the woman chose
No dangerous plotters in the common-weale
Of treason and murder: for they never go further

My wit before I quencht my thirst; there came Than to call for, and pay for, a &c.

Such whimsies in my braine, and such a fane

Of fiery drankennesse had sing'd my nose, " To the praise of Gambrivius, that good British My beard shrunke in for feare: there were of those king,

(tale) | That tooke me for a comet, some afar That devis'd for his nation (by the Welshmen's Distant remote, thought me a blazing star: Serenteen hundred yeares before Christ did spring, The Earta, methought, just as it was, it went The happy invention of a &c.

Round in a wheeling course of merriinepti.

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