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?
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 quæry 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,
He's rather in the womb, than on the earth.
And 't were a crime in such a public fate,
For one to 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, where now thon art,
Ere thy reproach was ready; or to die,
Ere custom had prepar'd thy calumny.

TO THE

LORD MORDANT,

UPON HIS RETURNE FROM THE NORTH, WHITHER HE BAR ACCOMPANIED KING JAMES IN 1617.

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 seene, 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.
Windsor the place; the day was Holy roode;
St. George my muse: for be it understood,
For all St. George more early in the yeare
Broke fast and eat a bitt, he dined here:
And though in Aprill in redd inke he shine,
Know 't was September made him redd with wine.
To this good sport rod I, as being allow'd
To see the king, and cry him in the crowd;
And at all solemne meetings have the grace
To thrust, and to be trodde on by my place.

Where when I came, I saw the church besett
With tumults, as if the brethren mett
To heare some silenc't teacher of that quarter
Inveigh against the order of the garter:
And justly might the weake it grieve and wrong,
Because the garter prayes in a strange tongue;
And doth retaine traditions yet of Fraunce,
In an old Honi soết qui mal y pense.

[t'ane,

[nation,

That all, besides the buckle, is profane.
But there was noe such doctrine now at stake,
Noc 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 locks
Papists and Puritans, the pope and Knox:
Which made some wise-one's feare, that love our
This mixture would beget a toleration;
Or that religions should united be,
When they stay'd service, these the letany.
But noe such hast; this daye's devotion lyes
Not in the hearts of men, but in their eyes;
They that doe see St. George, heare him aright;
For he loves not to parly, but to fight.
Amongst this audience (my lord) stood I,
Well edified as any that stood by ;
And knew how many leggs a knight letts fall,
Betwixt the king, the offering, and his stall:
Aske me but of their robes, I shall relate
The colour and the fashion, and the state:
I saw too the procession without doore,
What the poore knightes, and what the prebends
All this my neighbours that stood by me tooke,
Who div'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:
Me thought I then did those first ages know, [soe,
Which brought forth knightes soe arm'd and looking
Who would maintaine their oath,aud bind their worde
With these two seales, an altar and a sworde.

[wore.

That most ungratefull word (Bloxford) to heare
From him, whose breath yet stunk of Oxford beere:
But let it passe; for I have now pass'd throw
Their halberds, and worse weapons, their teeth, too:
And of a worthy officer was invited

To dine; who all their rudeness hath requited:
Where we had mirth and meat, and a large board
Furnish't with all the kitchin could afford.
But to conclude, to wipe of from before ye
All this which is noe better then a story;
Had this affront bin done me by command
Of noble Fenton 2, had their captaine's hand
Directed them to this, I should beleive

I had no cause to jeast, but much to greive:
Or had discerning Pembrooke 3 seene this done,
And thought it well bestow'd, I would have run
Where no good man had dwelt, nor learn'd would fly,
Where no disease would keepe me 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'd well, their manners and their lawes,
"T is no affliction to me, for even thus
Saint Paul hath fought with beasts at Ephesus,
And I at Windsor. Let this comfort then
Rest with all able and deserving men:

He 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 immerentes hospites vexas canis, Ignavus adversus lupos ?

A

NEW-YEARE'S GIFT.

TO MY LORDE DUKE OY BUCKINGHAM,

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 be 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 what's 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 me ungratefull, while I strive to pay.
Nor with a morall lesson doe I shift,

Like one that meant to save a better gift;
Like very poore, 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 than 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.

ΤΟ

THE PRINCE.

(AFTERWARDS CHARLES THE FIRST.)

(FROM A MANUSCRIPT IN ASHMOLE'S MUSEUM.)

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.

Barten Holiday's play already mentioned 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. G.

2 Thomas Ereskine, earl of Fenton. G.

3 William, earl of Pembroke, a poet himself, and an universal patron of learning, whose character is 90 admirably drawn by Clarendon. G.

A LETTER

SENT FROM DR. CORBET TO SIR THOMAS AILESBURY, SICRETARY TO THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, 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;
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:
But I forgive thee, two things kept thee 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 of universal grace,
Though Spain deserve the whole star, if the fall
Be true of Lerma duke and cardinal:
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 portends 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 zeale and white:
More it is doubtful that this prodigy
Will turne 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 mason's rule and taylor's 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 2, and Burton hears
From Gunter, and th' exchange both tongue and ears
By carriage: thus doth mired Guy complain,
His waggon in their letters bears Charles-Wain,
Charles-Wain, 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-withall to make us wise)
Thine own rich studies, and deep Harriot's mine,
In which there is no dross, but all refine:
O tell us what to trust to, lest we wax
All stiff and stupid with his parallax:
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.

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.

For learning, th' universitie;
And for old clothes, the Frippery;
The house the queen did build.
Saint Innocents, whose earth devoures
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'll see the prettiest thing,
Go to the court and see the king,
O 't is 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!

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 be 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.

But now then, for these parts he must Be enstiled Lewis the Just,

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:

Which puts a doubt on 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 th' other,

The people, too, dislike the youth,
Alledging reasons, for, in truth,

Mothers should honour'd be
Yet others say, he loves her rather
As well as ere she lov'd 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 begat
By uncle or by brother.

Now 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 own,
And why? it is no shame;

Unless that he would greater be
Than was his father Henery,

Who, men thought, did the same,

AN EXHORTATION

TO MR. JOHN HAMMON, MINISTER IN THE PARISH OF BEWDLY,

FOR THE BATTERING DOWNE OF THE VANITYES OF THE
GENTILES, WHICH ARE COMPREHENDED IN A MAYPOLL
WRITTEN BY A ZEALOUS BROTHER FROM THE BLACK-
FRYERS.

THE mighty zeale which thou hast new put on,
Neither by prophet nor by prophet's sonne
As yet prevented, doth transport me so
Beyond my selfe, that, though I ne're could go
Farr in a verse, and all rithmes have defy'd
Since Hopkins and old Thomas Sternhold dy'de,
(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 run
All kinde of feet, save Satan's cloven one.
Such is thy zeale, so well dost thou express it, [it,
That, (wer't not like a charme,) I'de say, Christ blesse
I needs must say, 't is a spirituall thing
To raile against a bishopp, or the king;
Nor are they meane adventures we have bin in,
About the wearing of the churche's linnen;
But these were private quarrells: this doth fall
Within the compass of the generall.
Whether it be a pole, painted and wrought
Farr otherwise, than from the wood 't was brought,
Whose head the idoll-maker's hand doth croppe,
Where a lew'd bird, towring upon the topp,
Lookes like the calfe at Horeb; at whose roote
The unyoak't youth doth exercise his foote;
Or whether it reserve his boughes, befriended
By neighb'ring bushes, and by them attended:
How canst thou chuse but seeing it complaine,
That Baall's worship't in the groves againe