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A04651.xml
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<title>Ben: Ionson's execration against Vulcan· VVith divers epigrams by the same author to severall noble personages in this kingdome. Never published before.</title>
<title>Execration against Vulcan</title>
<author>Jonson, Ben, 1573?-1637.</author>
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<date>1640</date>
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<idno type="DLPS">A04651</idno>
<idno type="STC">STC 14771</idno>
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<title>Ben: Ionson's execration against Vulcan· VVith divers epigrams by the same author to severall noble personages in this kingdome. Never published before.</title>
<title>Execration against Vulcan</title>
<author>Jonson, Ben, 1573?-1637.</author>
<author>Vaughan, Robert, engraver.</author>
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<extent>[54] p., plate : port. </extent>
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<publisher>Printed by J. O[kes] for Iohn Benson [and A. Crooke], and are to be sold at his shop at St. Dunstans Church-yard in Fleet-streete,</publisher>
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<note>In verse.</note>
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<note>With a final errata leaf.</note>
<note>Imprimatur, A4v, dated 1639. Variant: imprimatur dated 1640.</note>
<note>Reproduction of the original in the British Library.</note>
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<div type="title_page">
<pb facs="tcp:8354:1" rendition="simple:additions"/>
<pb facs="tcp:8354:1" rendition="simple:additions"/>
<p>Ben: Ionson's Exe<g ref="char:EOLhyphen"/>cration against VVLCAN. VVith divers Epigrams by the same Author to severall Noble Personages in this Kingdome. Never Published before.</p>
<p>
<hi>LONDON</hi>: Printed by <hi>I. O.</hi> for <hi>Iohn Benson,</hi> and are to be sold at his shop at St. <hi>Dunstans</hi> Church-yard in Fleet-streete. 1640.</p>
</div>
<div type="dedication">
<pb facs="tcp:8354:2"/>
<pb facs="tcp:8354:2"/>
<head>To the Right Ho<g ref="char:EOLhyphen"/>nourable THOMAS Lord WINDSOR, &c.</head>
<opener>
<salute>My LORD:</salute>
</opener>
<p>
<seg rend="decorInit">T</seg>HE assurance the Au<g ref="char:EOLhyphen"/>thor of these Poems re<g ref="char:EOLhyphen"/>ceived of his Worth from your Honour, in his life time, was not rather a marke of his desert, than a perfect de<g ref="char:EOLhyphen"/>monstration of your Noble love to him: Which consideration, has rais'd my bold desire to assume pre<g ref="char:EOLhyphen"/>sumption,
<pb facs="tcp:8354:3"/>
to present these to your Honour, in the person of one de<g ref="char:EOLhyphen"/>ceased; the forme whereof somewhat disperst, yet carry with them the Pre<g ref="char:EOLhyphen"/>rogative of truth to be Mr. <hi>Ben: Ion<g ref="char:EOLhyphen"/>sons</hi>; and will so appeare to all, whose Eyes, and Spirits are rightly plac'd. You are (my Lord) a Person who is able to give value and true esteeme to things of themselves no lesse deserving: such were his, strong, and as farre tran<g ref="char:EOLhyphen"/>scendent ordinary imagination, as they are conformable to the sence of such who are of sound judgement: his Stre<g ref="char:EOLhyphen"/>nuous Lines, and sinewey Labours have rais'd such Piramydes to his lasting name, as shall out-last Time. And that these may, without any diminuti<g ref="char:EOLhyphen"/>on to the glory of his greater Workes, enjoy the possession of publicke
<pb facs="tcp:8354:3"/>
favour, (by your Honours permis<g ref="char:EOLhyphen"/>sion) I shall be glad by this small Testi<g ref="char:EOLhyphen"/>mony account it a fit opportunity to assure your Honour, my Lord, that I am</p>
<closer>
<signed>Your most humble and affectionate Servant, <hi>JOHN BENSON.</hi>
</signed>
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<div type="imprimatur">
<pb facs="tcp:8354:4"/>
<p>Imprimatur</p>
<closer>
<signed>Matth. Clay.</signed>
<dateline>
<date>Decemb. 14. 1639.</date>
</dateline>
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<body>
<div type="text">
<pb facs="tcp:8354:4"/>
<head>Ben: Ionson's Execra<g ref="char:EOLhyphen"/>tion against Vulcan.</head>
<l>
<seg rend="decorInit">A</seg>Nd why to me this; (thou lame <hi>god</hi> of fire)</l>
<l>What have I done that mght cal on thine ire?</l>
<l>Or urge thy greedy flames, thus to devoure</l>
<l>So many my yeares labours in one houre!</l>
<l>I ne're attempted ought against thy life,</l>
<l>Nor made lesse line of Love to thy loose wife:</l>
<l>Or in remembrance of thy affront and scorne,</l>
<l>With clowns & tradesmen kept thee close in horn:</l>
<l>'Twas <hi>Iupiter</hi> that hurld thee head-long downe,</l>
<l>And <hi>Mars</hi> that gave thee a <hi>Lanthorne</hi> for a Crowne.</l>
<l>Was it because thou wert of old deny'd,</l>
<l>By <hi>Iove,</hi> to have <hi>Minerva</hi> for thy Bride.</l>
<l>
<pb facs="tcp:8354:5"/>That since thou tak'st all envious care and paine,</l>
<l>To ruine every issue of her Braine?</l>
<l>Had I wrot <hi>Treason</hi> there, or <hi>Heresie,</hi>
</l>
<l>
<hi>Impostures, Witchcraft, Charmes,</hi> or <hi>Blasphemy,</hi>
</l>
<l>I had deserv'd then thy consuming lookes,</l>
<l>Perhaps to have beene burned with my books:</l>
<l>But on thy Malice tell mee, didst thou spye</l>
<l>Any least loose, or scurrill paper lye</l>
<l>Conceal'd, or kept there; that was fit to be,</l>
<l>By thy owne vote, a Sacrifice to thee?</l>
<l>Did I there wound the honour of the Crowne?</l>
<l>Or taxe the glory of the Church, or Gowne?</l>
<l>Itch to defame the state, or brand the Times,</l>
<l>And my selfe most in leaud selfe-boasting <hi>Rimes?</hi>
</l>
<l>If none of these, why then this fire? or find</l>
<l>A cause before, or leave me one behind.</l>
<l>Had I compil'd from <hi>Amadis de Gaule</hi>
</l>
<l>Th'<hi>Esplandians, Arthurs, Palmerins,</hi> and all</l>
<l>The learned Library of <hi>Don Quixot,</hi>
</l>
<l>And so some goodlier Monster had begot:</l>
<l>Or spunne out Riddles, or weav'd fifty Tomes</l>
<l>Of <hi>Logogriphes,</hi> or curious <hi>Pallindromes</hi>;</l>
<l>Or pump'd for those hard trifles, <hi>Anagrams,</hi>
</l>
<l>Or <hi>Ecrosticks,</hi> or your finer flames</l>
<l>Of Egges, and Halberds, Cradles and a Herse,</l>
<l>A paire of sizers and a Combe in verse</l>
<l>
<pb facs="tcp:8354:5"/>
<hi>Acrosticks,</hi> and <hi>Tellesticks,</hi> or iumpe names,</l>
<l>Thou then hadst had some colour for thy flames,</l>
<l>On such my serious follies: But thou'lt say,</l>
<l>There were some pieces of as base a Lay,</l>
<l>And as false stampe there: parcells of a play</l>
<l>Fitter to see the fire-light, than the day:</l>
<l>Adulterate Monyes, such as would not goe,</l>
<l>Thou shouldst have staid, till publick <hi>fame</hi> said so.</l>
<l>She is the <hi>Iudge,</hi> thou <hi>Executioner:</hi>
</l>
<l>Or if thou needs will trench upon her power,</l>
<l>Thou mightst have yet enioy'd thy cruelty,</l>
<l>With some more thirst and more variety!</l>
<l>Thou mightst have had me perish piece by piece,</l>
<l>To light Tobacco, or save roasted Geese,</l>
<l>Singe Capon, or crispe Pigge, dropping their eyes<g ref="char:punc">▪</g>
</l>
<l>Condemn'd them to the Ovens with the Pies;</l>
<l>And so have kept me dying a whole age,</l>
<l>Not ravish'd all hence in a minuits rage:</l>
<l>But thats the mark whereof thy right doth boast,</l>
<l>To sow Consumption every where thou go'st.</l>
<l>Had I fore-knowne of this thy least desire,</l>
<l>T'have held a triumph, or a feast of fire;</l>
<l>Especially in paper, that that steame</l>
<l>Had tickled thy large Nostrills, many a Reame,</l>
<l>To redeeme mine I had sent in; enough</l>
<l>Thou shouldst have cried, & all bin proper stuffe.</l>
<l>
<pb facs="tcp:8354:6"/>The <hi>Talmond</hi> and the <hi>Alcaron</hi> had come</l>
<l>With pieces of the Legend: the whole summe</l>
<l>Of Errant <hi>Knight-hood,</hi> with their <hi>Dames</hi> & <hi>Dwarffs,</hi>
</l>
<l>The charmed <hi>Boats,</hi> and their inchanted <hi>Wharfes:</hi>
</l>
<l>The <hi>Tristeams, Lancelots, Turpins,</hi> and the <hi>Peeres,</hi>
</l>
<l>All the mad <hi>Rowlands,</hi> and sweet <hi>Olivers,</hi>
</l>
<l>VVith <hi>Merlins Marvailes,</hi> and his <hi>Caballs Losse,</hi>
</l>
<l>VVith the <hi>Chimera</hi> of the <hi>Rosie Crosse,</hi>
</l>
<l>Their <hi>Charmes,</hi> their <hi>Characters, Hermetticke Rings,</hi>
</l>
<l>Their Iems of <hi>Riches,</hi> and bright stone that brings</l>
<l>Invisibility, and Strength, and Tongues,</l>
<l>The art of kindling the true Cole by Lungs.</l>
<l>VVith <hi>Nicholas Pasquills,</hi> meddle with your match,</l>
<l>And the strong Lines that doe the times so catch:</l>
<l>On <hi>Captaine Pamphlets</hi> Horse and Foot that salley,</l>
<l>Vpon the Exchange still out of <hi>Popes head</hi> Alley,</l>
<l>The weekly <hi>Currants,</hi> with <hi>Pauls Seale,</hi> and all</l>
<l>The admir'd Discourses of the Prophet <hi>Baal,</hi>
</l>
<l>These (hadst thou pleas'd either to dine or sup)</l>
<l>Had made a meate for <hi>Vulcan</hi> to lick up.</l>
<l>But in my Deske, what was there to excite</l>
<l>So ravenous and vast an appetite?</l>
<l>I dare not say a Body, but some parts</l>
<l>There were of search and mistery in the Arts:</l>
<l>And the old <hi>Venusine</hi> in <hi>Poetry,</hi>
</l>
<l>
<hi>And</hi> lighted by the <hi>Staggerite</hi> could spy,</l>
<l>
<pb facs="tcp:8354:6"/>Was there made English, with a <hi>Grammer</hi> too,</l>
<l>To teach some that, their Nurses could not doe;</l>
<l>The purity of Language; and (among</l>
<l>The rest) my iourney into <hi>Scotland</hi> Sung,</l>
<l>With all the adventures: three Books not afraid</l>
<l>To speake the Fate of the <hi>Sycilian</hi> Maid</l>
<l>For our owne Ladies: And in story there</l>
<l>Of our fift <hi>Henry,</hi> eight of his nine yeare.</l>
<l>In which was Oyle, besides the succours spent,</l>
<l>Which Noble <hi>Cotton, Carew, Selden</hi> sent.</l>
<l>And twice twelve years <hi>Stor'd-up-Humanity,</hi>
</l>
<l>And humble gleanings in <hi>Divinity,</hi>
</l>
<l>After the Fathers; and those wiser guides,</l>
<l>Whom Factiou had not drawne to study sides.</l>
<l>How in these ruines <hi>Vulcan</hi> dost thou lurke:</l>
<l>All Soot and Embers, odious, as thy worke?</l>
<l>I now beginne to doubt, if ever grace,</l>
<l>Or goddesse could be patient at thy face.</l>
<l>Thou woe <hi>Minerva,</hi> or to wit aspire,</l>
<l>'Cause thou canst halt with us in Art and Fire.</l>
<l>Sonne of the Winde; for so thy Mother gone</l>
<l>With Lust conceiv'd thee, Father thou hadst none:</l>
<l>When thou wert born, & that thou lookst at best:</l>
<l>She durst not kisse, but flung thee from her breast.</l>
<l>And so did <hi>Iove,</hi> when neare meant thee his cup:</l>
<l>No mar'le the Clowns of <hi>Lemnos</hi> took thee up.</l>
<l>
<pb facs="tcp:8354:7"/>For none but <hi>Smiths</hi> would have made thee a <hi>god,</hi>
</l>
<l>Some <hi>Alchimist</hi> there may be yet, or odde:</l>
<l>Squire of the Squibs against the Pageant day,</l>
<l>May to thy Name a <hi>Vulcanale</hi> say,</l>
<l>And for it lose his eyes by Gun-powder,</l>
<l>As the other may his braines by Quick-silver:</l>
<l>Well fare the wise men yet on the Banks-side,</l>
<l>(Our friends the <hi>VVatermen</hi>) they could provide</l>
<l>Against thy fury, when to serve their needs,</l>
<l>They made a <hi>Vulcan</hi> on a sheafe of <hi>Reeds.</hi>
</l>
<l>VVhom they durst handle in their holy day coats,</l>
<l>And safely trust to dresse, not burn their boats:</l>
<l>But oh these <hi>Reeds,</hi> thy meere disdaine of them,</l>
<l>Made thee beget that cruell stratagem:</l>
<l>(Which some are pleas'd to stile but thy <hi>mad prank</hi>)</l>
<l>Against the Globe, the glory of the banke,</l>
<l>VVhich though it were the Fort of the whol <hi>parish,</hi>
</l>
<l>Fenc'd with a Ditch and forkt out of a Marish:</l>
<l>I saw with two poore Chambers taken in,</l>
<l>And rais'd ere thought could urge: this might have bin.</l>
<l>See the worlds ruines, nothing but the piles.</l>
<l>Left, and wit since to covet it with tiles</l>
<l>The Brethren they straight nois'd it out for newes,</l>
<l>'Twas verily some Relique of the Stewes:</l>
<l>And this a sparkle of that fire let loose,</l>
<l>That was rak'd up: the <hi>Winchestrian</hi> Goose</l>
<l>
<pb facs="tcp:8354:7"/>Bred on the Banke in time of Popery,</l>
<l>When <hi>Venus</hi> there maintain'd the mistery:</l>
<l>But others fell with that conceite by th' eares,</l>
<l>Twas verily a threatning to the Beares;</l>
<l>And that accursed ground, the <hi>Paris Garden:</hi>
</l>
<l>Nay, (sigh'd a sister) 'twas the Nun <hi>Kate Arden</hi>
</l>
<l>Kindled the fire: but then did one returne;</l>
<l>No foole would his owne Harvest spoile, or burn;</l>
<l>If that were so, thou rather wouldst advance</l>
<l>The place that was thy wives inheritance.</l>
<l>O no, cryed all, <hi>Fortune</hi> for being a whore,</l>
<l>Scapt not his <hi>Iustice</hi> any iot the more.</l>
<l>He burnt that <hi>Idoll</hi> of the <hi>Revells</hi> too:</l>
<l>Nay let <hi>Whit<gap reason="illegible" extent="1 letter">
<desc>•</desc>
</gap>-hall</hi> with <hi>Revells</hi> have to doe,</l>
<l>Though but in Dances) it shall know thy power,</l>
<l>There was a iudgement too shew'd in an houre;</l>
<l>He was right <hi>Vulcan</hi> still, hee did not spare</l>
<l>
<hi>Troy,</hi> though it were so much thy <hi>Venus</hi> care:</l>
<l>Foole wilt thou let that in example come?</l>
<l>Did she not save from thence to build a <hi>Rome</hi>?</l>
<l>
<hi>And</hi> what hast thou done in these petty spights,</l>
<l>More then advanc'd the horses and their Rites,</l>
<l>
<hi>I</hi> will not argue thee from them of guilt,</l>
<l>For they were burnt but to be better built:</l>
<l>'Tis true, that in thy wish they were destroy'd,</l>
<l>VVhich thou hast onely vented, not enioy'd.</l>
<l>
<pb facs="tcp:8354:8"/>So wouldst th' have run upon the <hi>Roles</hi> by stealth,</l>
<l>And didst invade part of the Common-wealth:</l>
<l>In those <hi>Records</hi> (which were our <hi>Chroniclers</hi> gone)</l>
<l>VVould be remembred by sixe Clerkes to one.</l>
<l>But say all sixe good men, what answer yee,</l>
<l>Lies there no <hi>Writ</hi> out of the <hi>Chancerie</hi>
</l>
<l>Against this <hi>Vulcan</hi>? no <hi>Iniunction?</hi>
</l>
<l>No <hi>Orders?</hi> no <hi>Decree?</hi> though we be gone</l>
<l>At Common Law, me thinkes in his dispight,</l>
<l>A Court of Equity should doe us right.</l>
<l>But to confine him to the Brew-houses,</l>
<l>The Glasse-house, Die-fates, and their Furnaces:</l>
<l>To live in Sea-coale, and goe out in Smoake,</l>
<l>Or least that vapour might the City choake,</l>
<l>Confine him to some Brickhills, or some Hill-</l>
<l>Foote out in <hi>Sussex</hi> to an <hi>Iron-Mill:</hi>
</l>
<l>Or in small Faggots have him blaze about,</l>
<l>Vile Tavernes, and the Drunkards pisse him out:</l>
<l>Or in the Bell-mans Lanthorne, like a spye,</l>
<l>Waste to a snuffe, and then stinke out and dye.</l>
<l>I could invent a sentence yet more worse,</l>
<l>But i'le conclude all in a civill curse:</l>
<l>Poxe on your flame-ship <hi>(Vulcan)</hi> if it be</l>
<l>To all as fatall as t'hath beene to me;</l>
<l>And to <hi>Pauls</hi> Steeple, which had beene to us</l>
<l>'Bove all your fire-workes: had not <hi>Ephesus,</hi>
</l>
<l>
<pb facs="tcp:8354:8"/>Or <hi>Alexandria,</hi> which though a Divine</l>
<l>Losse yet remaines as unrepaird as mine:</l>
<l>Would you had kept your forge at <hi>Aetna</hi> still,</l>
<l>And there made <hi>swords, bills, glaves,</hi> & <hi>arms</hi> your fill;</l>
<l>Maintain'd a trade at <hi>Bilbo,</hi> or elsewhere,</l>
<l>Struck in at <hi>Millane</hi> with the Cutlers there:</l>
<l>Or stai'd where the Fryer and you first met,</l>
<l>That from the Devills Ars did Gunnes beget:</l>
<l>Or fixt in the Low Countries, where you might</l>
<l>On both sides doe your mischiefs with delight:</l>
<l>Blow up and ruine, Mine, and Counter-mine,</l>
<l>Vse your <hi>Petarres,</hi> and <hi>Granats,</hi> all your fine</l>
<l>Engines of Murther, and inioy the praise</l>
<l>Of massacring Man-kind so many wayes:</l>
<l>We aske your absence here, we all love peace,</l>
<l>And pray the fruits thereof and the increase,</l>
<l>So doth the King, and most of the Kings men,</l>
<l>That have good places: therefore once agen</l>
<l>Poxe on thee <hi>Vulcan</hi>; thy <hi>Pandora's</hi> Pox,</l>
<l>And all the ills that flew out of her Box</l>
<l>Light on thee: or if those plagues will not doe,</l>
<l>Thy wives pox take thee, and <hi>Bess Braughtons</hi> too.</l>
<closer>
<signed>Ben: Ionson.</signed>
</closer>
</div>
<div type="epigrams">
<div type="poem">
<pb facs="tcp:8354:9"/>
<head>Upon King CHARLES his Birth-day.</head>
<lg>
<l>THis is King <hi>Charles</hi> his birth day, speak it the Tower</l>
<l>Vnto the Ships, and they from Tire to Tire,</l>
<l>Discharging 'bout the Iland in an houre,</l>
<l>As loud as Thunder, and as swift as fire.</l>
</lg>
<lg>
<l>Let <hi>Ireland</hi> meet it out at Sea halfe way,</l>
<l>Repeating all Great <hi>Brittaines</hi> ioy and more,</l>
<l>Adding her owne glad accents to this day,</l>
<l>Like eccho playing from another shore.</l>
</lg>
<lg>
<l>What Drums, or Trumpets, or great Ordnance can,</l>
<l>The Poetry of Steeples with the Bells.</l>
<l>Three Kingdomes mirth in light and ayery man,</l>
<l>Made loftier by the windes all noyses els.</l>
</lg>
<lg>
<l>At Bone-fires, Squibs, and mirth, with all their shouts,</l>
<l>That cry the gladnesse which their hearts would pray</l>
<l>If they had leasure, at these lawfull routs,</l>
<l>The often comming of this Holy day:</l>
<l>And then noyse forth the burthen of their song.</l>
<l>Still to have such a <hi>Charles,</hi> but this <hi>Charles</hi> long.</l>
</lg>
<closer>
<signed>B. Jonson.</signed>
</closer>
</div>
<div type="poem">
<pb facs="tcp:8354:9"/>
<head>To the Queene on her Birth-day.</head>
<lg>
<l>VP publicke ioy, remember</l>
<l>The sixeteenth of <hi>November</hi>
</l>
<l>Some brave uncommmon way.</l>
<l>And though the parish Steeple</l>
<l>Be silent to the people,</l>
<l>Ring thou it Holy day.</l>
</lg>
<lg>
<l>What though the thirsty Towre,</l>
<l>And Guns there spare to powre</l>
<l>Their noyses out in thunder:</l>
<l>As fearefull to awake</l>
<l>The City, as to shake</l>
<l>Their guarded Gates asunder.</l>
</lg>
<lg>
<l>Yet let the Trumpets sound,</l>
<l>And shake both aire and ground</l>
<l>With beating of their Drums:</l>
<l>Let every Lire be strung,</l>
<l>Harpe, Lute, Theorbo sprung</l>
<l>With touch of learned thumbs,</l>
</lg>
<lg>
<pb facs="tcp:8354:10"/>
<l>That when the Quire is full,</l>
<l>The harmony may pull</l>
<l>The <hi>Angels</hi> from their Spheares:</l>
<l>And each intelligence,</l>
<l>May wish it selfe a sence,</l>
<l>Whilst it the Ditty heares.</l>
</lg>
<lg>
<l>Behold the royall <hi>Mary,</hi>
</l>
<l>The daughter of great <hi>Harry,</hi>
</l>
<l>And sister to iust <hi>Lewis,</hi>
</l>
<l>Comes in the pompe and glory</l>
<l>Of all her Fathers story,</l>
<l>And of her brothers Prowis.</l>
</lg>
<lg>
<l>She shewes so farre above</l>
<l>The feigned Queen of <hi>Love</hi>;</l>
<l>This Sea-girt ground upon,</l>
<l>As here no <hi>Venus</hi> were</l>
<l>But that she reigning here,</l>
<l>Had put the Ceston on.</l>
</lg>
<lg>
<l>See, see our active King,</l>
<l>Hath taken twice the Ring</l>
<l>Vpon the poynted Lance,</l>
<l>VVhilst all the ravish't rout</l>
<l>Doe mingle in a shout,</l>
<l>Hey for the flower of <hi>France.</hi>
</l>
</lg>
<lg>
<pb facs="tcp:8354:10"/>
<l>This day the Court doth measure</l>
<l>Her ioy in state and pleasure:</l>
<l>And with a reverend feare,</l>
<l>The revells and the play</l>
<l>Make up this Crowned day</l>
<l>Her one and twenty yeare.</l>
</lg>
<closer>
<signed>B. Ionson.</signed>
</closer>
</div>
<div type="poem">
<head>On the Princes Birth-day. An Epigram.</head>
<l>ANd art thou borne, brave Babe, blest be thy birth,</l>
<l>That so hath crown'd our hopes, our spring on earth;</l>
<l>The bed of the chaste <hi>Lilly</hi> and the <hi>Rose,</hi>
</l>
<l>What month than <hi>May</hi> was fitter to disclose</l>
<l>This Prince of flowers? soone shoot thou up, and grow</l>
<l>The same that thou art promis'd; but be slow,</l>
<l>And long in changing: let our Nephews see</l>
<l>Thee quickly come, the gardens eye to be,</l>
<l>And still to stand so: Haste now envious Moone,</l>
<l>And interpose thy selfe, care not how soone,</l>
<l>And threat the great Eclips two houres but runne,</l>
<l>
<hi>Sol</hi> will reshine, if not, <hi>Charles</hi> hath a Sonne.</l>
<l>Non Displicuisse meretur</l>
<l>Festinat Caesar, qui placuisse tibi.</l>
<closer>
<signed>B. Ionson.</signed>
</closer>
</div>
<div type="poem">
<pb facs="tcp:8354:11"/>
<head>Another on the Birth of the Prince.</head>
<l>ANother Phoenix, though the first is dead,</l>
<l>A second's flowne from his immortall bed,</l>
<l>To make this our <hi>Arabia</hi> to be</l>
<l>The nest of an eternall progeny.</l>
<l>Choise Nature fram'd the former but to finde</l>
<l>What error might be mended in Man-kinde:</l>
<l>Like some industrious workman, which affect</l>
<l>Their first endeavours onely to correct:</l>
<l>So this the building, that the modell was,</l>
<l>The type of all that now is come to passe:</l>
<l>That but the shadow, this the substance is,</l>
<l>All that was but the prophesie of this:</l>
<l>And when it did this after birth fore-runne,</l>
<l>'Twas but the morning starre unto this Sunne;</l>
<l>The dawning of this day, when <hi>Sol</hi> did think</l>
<l>We having such a light, that he might wink,</l>
<l>And we ne're misse his lustre: nay so soone</l>
<l>As <hi>Charles</hi> was borne, he and the pale-fac'd Moon</l>
<l>With envy then did copulate, to try</l>
<l>If such a Birth might be produc'd i'th sky.</l>
<l>
<pb facs="tcp:8354:11"/>What Heavenly favour made a starre appeare,</l>
<l>To bid wise Kings to doe their homage here,</l>
<l>And prove him truely Christian? long remain</l>
<l>On Earth, sweet <hi>Prince,</hi> that when great <hi>Charles</hi> shal reign</l>
<l>In Heaven above, our little <hi>Charles</hi> may be</l>
<l>As great on Earth, because as good as he.</l>
<closer>
<signed>B. Ionson.</signed>
</closer>
</div>
<div type="poem">
<head>A Paralell of the Prince to the King.</head>
<l>SO <hi>Peleus</hi> when he faire <hi>Thetis</hi> got,</l>
<l>As thou thy <hi>Sea-Queene</hi>; so to him she brought</l>
<l>A blessed Babe, as thine hath done to thee:</l>
<l>His worthiest prov'd of those times, ours may be</l>
<l>Of these; his had a <hi>Pallas</hi> for his guide,</l>
<l>Thy wisedome will as well for ours provide:</l>
<l>His Conquered Countries, Cities, Castles, Towers,</l>
<l>A worthy foe; hereafter so may ours.</l>
<l>His all his time, but once <hi>Patroclus</hi> findes,</l>
<l>But this of ours a world of faithfull friends:</l>
<l>He's vulnerable in no place but one,</l>
<l>And this of ours (we hope) be hurt of none.</l>
<l>His had his Phoenix, ours no teacher needs,</l>
<l>But the example of thy Life and Deeds.</l>
<l>
<pb facs="tcp:8354:12"/>His <hi>Nestor</hi> knew, in Armes his fellow was,</l>
<l>But not in yeares, (too soone runne out his Glasse)</l>
<l>Ours, though not <hi>Nestor</hi> knew, we trust, shall bee</l>
<l>As wise in Armes, as old in yeares as hee.</l>
<l>His after Death had <hi>Homer</hi> his reviver:</l>
<l>And ours may better merit to live ever,</l>
<l>By <hi>Deeds</hi> farre-passing: but (oh sad dispaire)</l>
<l>No hope of <hi>Homer,</hi> his wit left no heire.</l>
<closer>
<signed>B. Jonson.</signed>
</closer>
</div>
<div type="poem">
<head>An Elegy on the Lady <hi>Jane Paulet,</hi> Mar<g ref="char:EOLhyphen"/>chionesse of <hi>Winchester.</hi>
</head>
<l>VVhat goodly Ghost besprint with <hi>Aprill</hi> dew,</l>
<l>Halls me so solemnly to yonder Yeugh?</l>
<l>And beckoning wooes me from the fatall <hi>tree,</hi>
</l>
<l>To plucke a <hi>Garland</hi> for her selfe, or me.</l>
<l>I doe obey you beauty; for in death</l>
<l>You seeme a faire one; O that I had breath</l>
<l>To give your shade a name! stay! stay! I feele</l>
<l>A horror in me, all my blood is steele</l>
<l>
<pb facs="tcp:8354:12"/>Stiffe stark; my ioynts 'gainst one another knock:</l>
<l>Whose daughter? ha? great <hi>Savage</hi> of the <hi>Rock</hi>!</l>
<l>He's good, as great! I am almost a stone,</l>
<l>And ere I can aske more of her she's gone!</l>
<l>Alas I am all Marble: write the rest,</l>
<l>Thou wouldst have written <hi>fame</hi> upon my breast,</l>
<l>It is a large faire Table, and a true,</l>
<l>And the disposure will be somewhat new:</l>
<l>When I who would her Poet have become,</l>
<l>At least may beare th'inscription to her Tombe:</l>
<l>She was the Lady <hi>Iane,</hi> and Marchionesse</l>
<l>Of <hi>Winchester,</hi> the Heralds can tell this:</l>
<l>Earle <hi>Rivers</hi> grand-child, serve not titles, Fame</l>
<l>Sound thou her vertues, give her soule a name.</l>
<l>Had I a thousand mouths, as many tongues,</l>
<l>And voyce to raise them from my brasen Lungs,</l>
<l>I durst not aime at, the Dotes thereof were such,</l>
<l>No Nation can expresse how much</l>
<l>Their Charact was: I or my trump must breake,</l>
<l>But rather I, should I of that part speake,</l>
<l>It is too neare of kin to God the soule</l>
<l>To be describ'd, Fames fingers are too foule</l>
<l>To touch those misteries; we may admire</l>
<l>The heate and splendor, but not handle fire:</l>
<l>What she did by great example well,</l>
<l>T'inlive posterity, her fame may tell;</l>
<l>
<pb facs="tcp:8354:13"/>And calling truth to witnesse, make it good</l>
<l>From the inherint graces in her blood.</l>
<l>Else who doth prayle a person by a new,</l>
<l>But a feign'd way doth spoyle it of the true:</l>
<l>Her sweetnesse, softnesse, her faire courtesie,</l>
<l>Her wary guards, her wise simplicity,</l>
<l>Were like a ring of vertues 'bout her set,</l>
<l>And Piety the center where all met:</l>
<l>A reverend state she had, an awfull eye,</l>
<l>A darling, yet inviting Maiesty;</l>
<l>VVhat Nature, Fortune, Institution, Fact,</l>
<l>Could heape to a perfection, was her act:</l>
<l>How did she leave the <hi>world,</hi> with what contempt?</l>
<l>Iust as she in it liv'd, and so exempt</l>
<l>From all affection: when they urg'd the Cure</l>
<l>Of her disease, how did her soule assure</l>
<l>Her sufferings, as the Body had bin away:</l>
<l>
<hi>And</hi> to the torturers her Doctors say,</l>
<l>Sticke on your Cupping-glasses, feare not, put</l>
<l>Your hottest Causticks to burne, lance, or cut:</l>
<l>Tis but a body which you can torment,</l>
<l>
<hi>And I</hi> into the world, with my soule was sent.</l>
<l>Then comforted her Lord, and blest her sonne,</l>
<l>Chear'd her faire sisters in her race to runne.</l>
<l>VVhich gladnesse temper'd her sad parents teares,</l>
<l>Made her friends ioyes to get above their feares.</l>
<l>
<pb facs="tcp:8354:13"/>
<hi>And</hi> in her last act taught the standers by,</l>
<l>With admiration and applause to dye:</l>
<l>Let <hi>Angels</hi> sing her glories, who did call</l>
<l>Her <hi>spirit</hi> home to her originall,</l>
<l>That saw the way was made it, and were sent</l>
<l>To carry and conduct the complement</l>
<l>'Twixt death and life: where her mortality</l>
<l>Became her birth-day to eternity!</l>
<l>
<hi>And</hi> now through circumfused lights she lookes</l>
<l>On Natures secrets there as her owne bookes;</l>
<l>Speakes heavens language, and discourses free</l>
<l>To every <hi>Order,</hi> every <hi>Hierarchy.</hi>
</l>
<l>Beholds her Maker, and in him doth see</l>
<l>VVhat the beginning of all beauties be,</l>
<l>
<hi>And</hi> all beatitudes that thence doth flow,</l>
<l>VVhich the Elect of God are sure to know.</l>
<l>Goe now her happy parents and be sad,</l>
<l>If yee not understand what child you had;</l>
<l>If you dare quarrell heaven, and repent</l>
<l>To have paid againe a blessing was but lent,</l>
<l>
<hi>And</hi> trusted so as it deposited lay</l>
<l>
<hi>At</hi> pleasure to be cald for every day.</l>
<l>If you can envy your owne daughters blisse;</l>
<l>
<hi>And</hi> wish her state lesse happy than it is;</l>
<l>If you can cast about your either eye,</l>
<l>
<hi>And</hi> see all dead here, or about to dye.</l>
<l>
<pb facs="tcp:8354:14"/>The Stars that are the iewells of the night,</l>
<l>The day deceasing with the Prince of light</l>
<l>The Sun. Great Kings & mightiest kingdoms fal,</l>
<l>VVhole nations; nay, man-kind, the world, & all</l>
<l>That ever had beginning to have end;</l>
<l>VVith what iniustice can one soule pretend</l>
<l>T'escape this common knowne necessity,</l>
<l>VVhen we were all borne we beganne to dye:</l>
<l>And but for that brave contention and strife,</l>
<l>The Christian hath t'enioy a future life;</l>
<l>He were the wretched'st of the race of men,</l>
<l>But as he soares at that, he bruiseth then</l>
<l>The Serpents head; gets above Death and Sinne<g ref="char:punc">▪</g>
</l>
<l>And sure of heaven rides triumphing in.</l>
<closer>
<signed>B. Jonson.</signed>
</closer>
</div>
<div type="poem">
<head>ODE PINDARICK On the the Death of Sir <hi>Hen. Morison.</hi>
</head>
<lg>
<l>BRave Infant of <hi>Saguntum</hi> cleare,</l>
<l>Thy comming forth in that great yeare,</l>
<l>When the prodigious <hi>Hanibal</hi> did Crowne</l>
<l>His rage, with razing your immortall Town.</l>
<l>
<pb facs="tcp:8354:14"/>Thou looking then about,</l>
<l>Ere thou wert halfe got out:</l>
<l>Wise Child didst hastily returne,</l>
<l>And madst thy Mothers wombe thine Vrne,</l>
<l>How sum'd a Circle didst thou leave mankind,</l>
<l>Of deepest lore could wee the center find.</l>
</lg>
<lg>
<head>The Counter-turne.</head>
<l>Did wiser Nature draw thee backe,</l>
<l>From out the horrour of that sack?</l>
<l>Where shame, faith, honour, and regard of right</l>
<l>Lay trampled on the deeds of death and night.</l>
<l>Vrg'd, hurried forth, and hurld</l>
<l>Vpon th' affrighted world:</l>
<l>Sword, fire, famine, with full fury met,</l>
<l>And all on utmost ruine set:</l>
<l>As could they but lives miseries fore-see,</l>
<l>No doubt all Infants would returne like thee.</l>
</lg>
<lg>
<head>The Stand.</head>
<l>For what is Life, if measur'd by the space,</l>
<l>Not by the Act?</l>
<l>Or masked man, if valued by his face,</l>
<l>Above his Fact?</l>
<l>
<pb facs="tcp:8354:15"/>Here's one out-liv'd his Peeres,</l>
<l>And told forth fourescore yeeres,</l>
<l>He vexed time, and busied the whole State,</l>
<l>Troubled both foes and friends,</l>
<l>But ever to no ends:</l>
<l>What did this stirrer but dye late?</l>
<l>How well at twenty had he falne or stood,</l>
<l>For three of his fourescore he did no good.</l>
</lg>
<lg>
<head>The Turne.</head>
<l>He entred well by vertuous parts,</l>
<l>Got up and thriv'd with honest Arts,</l>
<l>He purchas'd friends, and fame, and honors then,</l>
<l>And had his Noble Name advanc'd with men.</l>
<l>But weary of that flight,</l>
<l>He stoop'd in all mens sight</l>
<l>To sordid flatteries, acts of strife,</l>
<l>And sunke in that dead Sea of life</l>
<l>Too deepe: as he did then Deaths waters sup,</l>
<l>But that the Corke of Title Boy'd him up.</l>
</lg>
<lg>
<head>The Counter-turne.</head>
<l>Alas but <hi>Morison</hi> fell young;</l>
<l>He never fell, thou tripst my tongue:</l>
<l>
<pb facs="tcp:8354:15"/>He stood a Souldier to the last night end,</l>
<l>A perfect Patriot, and a noble friend.</l>
<l>But most a vertuous Sonne,</l>
<l>All offices were done</l>
<l>By him so ample, full, and round,</l>
<l>In weight, and measure, number sound,</l>
<l>As though his Age imperfect might appeare,</l>
<l>His life was of Humanity the Spheare.</l>
</lg>
<lg>
<head>The Stand.</head>
<l>Goe now and tell out dayes, sum'd up with fears,</l>
<l>And make them yeares:</l>
<l>Produce thy masse of miseries on the Stage,</l>
<l>To swell thine Age,</l>
<l>Repeate of things a throng,</l>
<l>To shew thou hast beene long,</l>
<l>Not liv'd: for life doth her great actions spell,</l>
<l>By what was done, and wrought</l>
<l>In season, and so brought</l>
<l>To light: her measures are how well:</l>
<l>Each sillib' answer'd, and was form'd how faire;</l>
<l>These make the lines of life, and that's her aire.</l>
</lg>
<lg>
<head>The Turne.</head>
<l>It is not growing, like a Tree,</l>
<l>In bulke, doth make man better be,</l>
<l>
<pb facs="tcp:8354:16"/>Or standing long an Oake, three hundued yeare,</l>
<l>To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and seare:</l>
<l>A Lilly of a day,</l>
<l>Is fairer farre in <hi>May,</hi>
</l>
<l>Although it fall and dye at night,</l>
<l>It was the plant and flower of light;</l>
<l>In small proportions we iust beauty see,</l>
<l>And in short measures life may perfect be.</l>
</lg>
<lg>
<head>The Counter-turne.</head>
<l>Call Noble <hi>Lucius</hi> then for wine,</l>
<l>And let thy looks with gladnesse shine,</l>
<l>Accept this Garland, plant it on thy head,</l>
<l>And thinke, nay know thy <hi>Morison's</hi> not dead.</l>
<l>He leap'd the present age,</l>
<l>Possest with holy rage,</l>
<l>To see the bright eternall day,</l>
<l>Of which we Priests and Poets say</l>
<l>Such truths as wee expect for happy men,</l>
<l>And there he lives with memory: and <hi>Ben</hi>
</l>
</lg>
<lg>
<head>The Stand.</head>
<l>
<hi>Ionson!</hi> who sung this of him e're he went</l>
<l>Himselfe to rest,</l>
<l>Or taste a part of that full ioy he meant</l>
<l>To have exprest,</l>
<l>
<pb facs="tcp:8354:16"/>In this bright Asterisme,</l>
<l>Where it was friendships schisme,</l>
<l>Were not his <hi>Lucius</hi> long with us to tarry,</l>
<l>To separate these twi-</l>
<l>Lights, the Dioscuri,</l>
<l>And keepe the one halfe from his <hi>Harry;</hi>
</l>
<l>But Fate doth so alternate the designe,</l>
<l>VVhilst that in heaven, this light on earth must shine.</l>
</lg>
<lg>
<head>The Turne.</head>
<l>And shine as you exalted are,</l>
<l>Two names of friendship, but one starre</l>
<l>Of hearts the union: and those not by chance,</l>
<l>Made or indentur'd, or leas'd out to advance</l>
<l>The profits for a time,</l>
<l>No pleasures vaine did chime</l>
<l>Of Rimes, or ryots at your feasts,</l>
<l>Argues of Drinke, or feign'd protests,</l>
<l>But simple Love, of greatnesse and of good,</l>
<l>That knits brave minds, and manners more than blood.</l>
</lg>
<lg>
<head>The Counter-turne.</head>
<l>This made you first to know the why</l>
<l>You lik'd: then after to apply</l>
<l>
<pb facs="tcp:8354:17"/>That likening; and approach so one to th'other,</l>
<l>Till either grew a portion of the other,</l>
<l>Each stiled by his end,</l>
<l>The coppy of his friend;</l>
<l>You liv'd to be the great sirnames,</l>
<l>And titles by which all made claimes</l>
<l>Vnto the vertue: nothing perfect done,</l>
<l>But as a <hi>Cary</hi> or a <hi>Morison.</hi>
</l>
</lg>
<lg>
<head>The Stand.</head>
<l>And such a force the faire example had,</l>
<l>As they that saw</l>
<l>The good, and durst not practise it, were glad</l>
<l>That such a Law</l>
<l>Was left yet to man-kind,</l>
<l>Where they might read, and find</l>
<l>Friendship indeed was written not in words:</l>
<l>And with the Heart, not Pen,</l>
<l>Of two so earely men,</l>
<l>VVhose Lines her Rowles were, and records</l>
<l>VVho e're the first downe; bloomed on the Chin,</l>
<l>Had sowed these fruits, and got the harvest in.</l>
</lg>
<closer>
<signed>B. Jonson.</signed>
</closer>
</div>
<div type="poem">
<pb facs="tcp:8354:17"/>
<head>To <hi>Hierome</hi> Lord <hi>Weston</hi> vpon his returue from his Embassy.</head>
<lg>
<l>SVch pleasures as the teeming earth</l>
<l>Doth take in easie Natures birth,</l>
<l>When she puts forth the life of every thing,</l>
<l>And in a dew of sweetest raine,</l>
<l>She lyes deliver'd without paine,</l>
<l>Of the prime beauty of the yeare and spring.</l>
</lg>
<lg>
<l>That Rivers in their shores doe runne,</l>
<l>The Clouds racke cleare before the Sunne,</l>
<l>The rudest winds obey the calmest aire;</l>
<l>Rare plants from every banke doe rise,</l>
<l>And every plant the sence surprise,</l>
<l>Because the order of the whole is faire.</l>
</lg>
<lg>
<l>The very verdure of her nest,</l>
<l>VVherein she sits so richly drest,</l>
<l>As all the wealth of season there were spread,</l>
<l>Have shew'd the graces and the houres,</l>
<l>Have multiply'd their arts and powers,</l>
<l>In making soft her stromaticke bed.</l>
</lg>
<lg>
<pb facs="tcp:8354:18"/>
<l>Such ioyes, such sweets doth your returne,</l>
<l>Bring all your friends, faire Lord, that burne</l>
<l>With ioy to heare your modesty relate</l>
<l>The businesse of your blooming wit,</l>
<l>With all the fruits that follow it,</l>
<l>Both to the honour of the King and state.</l>
</lg>
<lg>
<l>O how will the Court be pleas'd,</l>
<l>To see great <hi>CHARLES</hi> of travell eas'd,</l>
<l>When he beholds a graft of his owne hand,</l>
<l>Spring up an <hi>Olive,</hi> fruitfull, faire,</l>
<l>To be a shadow of the Aire;</l>
<l>And both a strength and beauty to the Land.</l>
</lg>
<closer>
<signed>B. I.</signed>
</closer>
</div>
<div type="poem">
<head>To the right Honourable the L. <hi>Treasurer.</hi> An Epigram.</head>
<l>IF to my mind, great Lord, I had a state,</l>
<l>I would present you with some curious Plate</l>
<l>Of <hi>Norimberg,</hi> or <hi>Turkie</hi> hang your rooms,</l>
<l>Not from the <hi>Arras,</hi> but the <hi>Persian</hi> Looms.</l>
<l>I would (if price or prayer) could them get</l>
<l>Send in what or <hi>Romano, Tintaret,</hi>
</l>
<l>
<pb facs="tcp:8354:18"/>
<hi>Titian,</hi> or <hi>Raphaell, Michaell Angelo,</hi>
</l>
<l>Have left in Fame to equall, or out-goe</l>
<l>The old Greeke hands, in picture, or in stone,</l>
<l>This would I doe, could I thinke <hi>VVeston</hi> one</l>
<l>Catch'd with these Arts, wherein the <hi>Iudge</hi> is wife,</l>
<l>As farre as sence, and onely by his eyes.</l>
<l>But you I know, my Lord, and know you can</l>
<l>Discerne betweene a Statue, and a man:</l>
<l>Can doe the things that Statue doe deserve,</l>