I

On Battus.

PRAY thee Battus, adde unto thy store

This booke of mine to make thy number more;
It is well bound, well printed, neatly strung,
And doth deserve to have a place among
Th' inhabitants of thy Vatican, if thou
Wilt so much favor to its worth allow.

Gender and Number.

Singular sins and plurall we commit;
And we in every gender vary it.

To Sr John Suckling.

If learning will beseem a courtier well,

If honour waite on those who dare excell,
Then let not poets envy but admire,

The eager flames of thy poetique fire;

For whilst the world loves wit, Aglaura shall,
Phoenix-like live after her funerall.

VOL. II.

B

M865355

To Mr. George Sands.

Sweet-tongued Ovid, though strange tales he told,
Which gods and men did act in dayes of old,
What various shapes for love sometimes they took
To purchase what they aym'd at: could he look
But back upon himself he would admire

The sumptuous bravery of that rich attire;
Which Sands hath clad him with, and then place this
His change amongst their metamorphosis.

To Mr. William Habbington on his Castara, a Poem. Thy muse is chaste and thy Castara too,

"Tis strange at court, and thou hadst power to woo And to obtain (what others were deny'd)

The fair Castara for thy vertuous bride:

Enjoy what you dare wish, and may there bee
Fair issues branch from both, to honor thee.

To Mr. Francis Beaumont, and Mr. John
Fletcher, gent.

Twin-stars of poetry, whom we justly may
Call the two-tops of learn'd Pernassus-Bay,
Peerlesse for freindship and for numbers sweet,
Whom oft the muses swaddled in one sheet:

Your works shall still be prais'd and dearer sold,
For our new-nothings doe extoll your old.

To Mr. Benjamin Johnson.

Had Rome but heard her worthies speak so high, As thou hast taught them in thy poesie;

She would have sent her poets to obtain,

(Tutour'd by thee) thy most majestique strain.

To Mr. George Chapman on his Translation of
Homers works into English meeter.

Thou ghost of Homer 'twere no fault to call
His the translation, thine the originall,
Did we not know 'twas done by thee so well;
Thou makest Homer, Homers self excell.

To William Shake-spear.

Shake-speare we must be silent in thy praise,
'Cause our encomions will but blast thy bayes,
Which envy could not, that thou didst so well;
Let thine own histories prove thy chronicle.

To Mr. Thomas Randolph.

Thou darling of the Muses for we may
Be thought deserving, if what was thy play
Our utmost labours can produce, we will
Freely allow thee heir unto the hill,

The Muses did assign thee, and think't fit
Thy younger yeares should have the elder-wit.

Man.

Man's like the earth, his hair like grasse is grown, His veins the rivers are, his heart the stone.

Vita via.

Well may mans life be likened to a way,
Many be weary of their life they'll say.

To Mr. Thomas May.

Thou son of Mercury whose fluent tongue
Made Lucan finish his Pharsalian song,

Thy fame is equall, better is thy fate,
Thou hast got Charles his love, he Nero's hate.

To Mr. George Wythers.

Th' hast whipp'd our vices shrewdly and we may
Think on thy scourge untill our dying-day:
Th' hast given us a remembrancer which shall
Outlast the vices we are tax'd withall,

Th' hast made us both eternall, for our shame
Shall never Wyther, whilst thou hast a name.

To Mr. Thomas Middleton.

Facetious Middleton, thy witty Muse
Hath pleased all, that books or men peruse.
If any thee dispise, he doth but show
Antipathy to wit, in daring so:

Thy fam's above his malice, and 'twill be
Dispraise enough for him to censure thee.

To Mr. James Shirly on his Comedy, viz,
the young Admirall.

How all our votes are for thee (Shirly) come
Conduct our troops, strike up Apollo's drum,
We wait upon thy summons and do all
Intend to choose thee our yong admirall.