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course of Abraham's strange voiage,
thire mistresse sorrow and perplexity,
accompanied with frightfull dreams
and tell the manner of his rising by
night, taking his servants and his son
with him. Next may come forth Sa-
rah herself. After the Chorus, or Is-
mael, or Agar. Next some shepheard
or companie of merchants, passing
through the mount in the time that
Abram was in the mid-work, relate to
Sarah what they saw.
Hence lamen-

tations, fears, wonders. The matter in
the mean while divulg'd, Aner, or Es-
chol, or Mamre, Abram's confederats,
come to the house of Abram to be
more certaine, or to bring news; in
the mean while discoursing, as the
world would, of such an action, divers
ways; bewayling the fate of so noble a
man faln from his reputation, either
through divin justice or superstition, or
coveting to doe some notable act through
zeal. At length a servant, sent from
Abram, relates the truth; and last he
himselfe comes in with a great traine
of Melchizedec's, whose shepheards,
beeing secretlye witnesses of all pas-
sages, had related to their master, and
he conducted his friend Abraham home
with joy.

Jiii. Baptistes. The Scene, the Court.

Beginning, From the morning of Hero'ds birth day.

In the mar

gin of the MS. Ore's the queen

Herod, by some counsel

er persuaded on his birthmay plot, under day to release John Bappra enseofbegging for his - tist, purposes it, causes berty, to seek him to be sent for to court

to draw him in

to a snare by from prison. The queen his freedom of hears of it, takes occa

speech.

sion to passe wher he is, on purpose, that, under prætense of reconsiling to him, or seeking to draw a kind retractation from him of the censure on the marriage; to which end she sends a courtier before, to sound whether he might be persuaded to mitigate his sentence; which not finding, she herself craftily assays; and on his constancie, founds an accusation to Herod of a contumacious afiront, on such a day, before many peers; præpares the king to soine passion, and at last by her daughter's dancing, effects it. There may prologize the spirit of Philip, Herod's brother. It may also be thought that Herod had well bedew'd himself with wine, which made him grant the easier to his wive's daughter.

Some of his disciples also, as to congratulate his liberty, may be brought in; with whom, after certain command of his death, many compassionating words of his disciples, bewayling his youth cut off in his glorious cours; he telling them his work is don, and wishing them to follow Christ his mais.ter.

liv. Sodom. The title, Cupid's funeral pile :

Sodom burning. The Scene before Lot's gate.

The Chorus, consisting of Lot's shepherds come to the citty about some affairs, await in the evening thire maister's return from his evening walk toward the citty gates. He brings with him two young men, or youths, of noble form. After likely discourses, præpares for thire entertainment. By then supper is ended, the gallantry of the towne passe by in procession, with music and song, to the temple of Venus Urania or Peor; and, understanding of tow noble strangers arriv'd, they send 2 of thire choysest youth, with the priest, to invite them to thire citty solemnities; it beeing an honour that thire citty had decreed to all fair personages, as beeing sacred to their goddess. The angels being ask't by the priest whence they are, say they are of Salem; the priest inveighs against the strict reign of Melchisedec.

Lot, that knows thire drift, answers thwartly at last. Of which notice given to the whole assembly, they hasten thither, taxe him of præsumption, singularity, breach of city-customs; in fine, offer violence. The Chorus of shepheards præpare resistance in the master's defence; calling the rest of the serviture: but, being forc't to gire back, the angels open the dore, rescue Lot, discover themselves, wame hira to gether his friends and sons in law out of the city.

He goes, and returns; as haring met with some incredulous. Some other freind or son in law (out of the way when Lot came to his house) overtakes him to know his buisnes. Heer disputed of incredulity of divine judge, ments, and such like inatters.

At last is described the parting fre the citty. The Chorus depart with ther maister. The angels doe the deed with all dreadful execution. The king nobles of the citty may come forth and serve to set out the terror. A Che rus of angels concluding, and the angels relating the event of Lot's jour ney, and of his wife.

The first Chorus, beginning, mayr late the course of the citty; each ereing every one, with mistresse or Gasmed, gitterning along the streets, of lacing on the banks of Jordan, or don the stream.

At the priests' inviting the angels the solemnity, the angels, pittying beauty, may dispute of love, and be differs from lust; seeking to winter

In the last scene, to the king nobles, when the fierce thunder beg aloft, the angel appeares all girt w flames, which, he saith, are the tas of true love, and tells the king, falls down with terrour, his just suffer as also Athane's, that is, Gener, Lot's

in law, for despising the continual admonitions of Lot. Then, calling to the thunders, lightning, and fires, he bids them heare the call and command of God, to come and destroy a godlesse nation. He brings them down with some short waruing to other nations to take heed.

Iv. Moabitides, or Phineas.

The epitasis whereof may lie in the contention, first, between the father of Zimri and Eleazer, whether he [ought] to have slain his son without law? Next, the ambassadors of the Moabites, expostulating about Cosbi, a stranger and a noble woman, slain by Phineas.

It may be argued about reformation and punishment illegal, and, as it were, by tumult. After all arguments driven home, then the word of the Lord may be brought, acquitting and approving Phineas.

Ivi. Christus Patiens. The Scene, in the garden. Beginning, from the comming thither, till Judas betraies, and the officers lead him away. The rest by Message and Chorus.

His agony may receav noble expressions.

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vii. Christ born.

liii. Herod massacring, or Rachel weeping. Matt. ii.

Ixix. Christ bound.

Ix. Christ crucifi'd.

Ixi. Christ risen.

lxii. Lazarus. John, xi.

BRITISH TRAGEDIES

Ixiii. The cloister-king Constans set up by Vortiger. Venutius, husband to Cartismandua.

Ixiv. Vortiger poison'd by Roena.

lxv. Vortiger immur'd. Vortiger marrying Roena. See Speed. Reproov'd by Vodin, archbishop of London.

Speed.

The massacre of the Britains by Hengist in thire cups at Salisbury plaine. Malmsbury.

lxvi. Sigher, of the East-Saxons, revolted from the faith, and reclaimed by Jarumang. Ixvii. Ethelbert, of the East-Angles, slain by Offa the Mercian. See Holinsh. L. vi. C. v. Speed, in the life of Offa, and Ethelbert.

Ixviii. Sebert slaine by Penda, after he had left his kingdom. See Holinshed, p. 116. Ixix. Wulfer slaying his tow sons for beeing Christians.

lxx. Osbert, of Northumberland, slain for ravishing the wife of Bernbocard, and the Danes brought in. See Stow, Holinsh.

L. vi. C. xii. And especially Speed, L. viii. C. ii. Ixxi, Edmund, last king of the East-Angles,

martyr'd by Hinguar the Dane. See Speed, L. viii, C. ii.

lxxii. Sigbert, tyrant of the West-Saxons, slaine by a swinheard.

Ixxiii. Edmund, brother of Athelstan, slaine by a theefe at his owne table. Malmesb. Irxiv. Edwin, son to Edward the younger, for lust depriv'd of his kingdom, or rather by faction of monks, whome he hated; toge ther [with] the impostor Dunstan. lxxv. Edward, son of Edgar, murder'd by his step-mother. To which may be inserted the tragedies stirr'd up betwixt the monks and priests about mariage. lxxvi. Etheldred, son of Edgar, a slothful king; the ruin of his land by the Danes. Ixxvii. Ceaulin, king of the West-Saxons, for tyrannie depos'd and banish't; and dying. lxxviii. The slaughter of the monks of Bangor by Edelfride, stirr'd up, as is said, by Ethelbert, and ke by Austine the monke; because the Britains would not receave the rites of the Roman church. See Bede, Geffrey Monmouth, and Holinshed, p. 104. Which must begin with the convocation of British Clergie by Austin to determine superfluous points, which by them were refused.

lxxix. Edwin, by vision, promis'd the kingdom of Northumberland on promise of his conversion; and therein establish't by Rodoald, king of [the] East-Angles.

Ixxx. Oswin, king of Deira, slaine by Oswie

his friend, king of Bernitia, through instigation of flatterers. See Holinsh. p.

115.

lxxxi. Sigibert, of the East-Angles, keeping companie with a person excommunicated, slaine by the same man in his house, according as the bishop Cedda had foretold.

lxxxii, Egfride, king of the Northumbers, slaine in battle against the Picts; having before wasted Ireland, and made warre for no reason on men that ever lov'd the English; forewarn'd alo by Cuthbert not to fight with the Ficts.

lxxxiii. Kinewulf, king of the West-Saxons, slaine by Kineard in the house of one of his concubins.

lxxxiv. Gunthildis, the Danish ladie, with her husband Palingus, and her son, slaine by the appointment of the traitor Edrick, in king Ethelred's days. Holinsh. L. vii. C. v. together with the massacre of the Danes at Oxford. Speed.

lxxxv. Brightrick, [king] of [the] West-Saxons, poyson'd by his wife Ethelburge, Offa's daughter; who dyes miserably also, in beggery, after adultery, in a nunnery. Speed in Bithrick.

lxxxvi. Alfred, in disguise of a minstrel, discovers the Danes' negligence; sets on [them] with a mightie slaughter. About the same tyme the Devonshire men rout Hubba, and slay him.

Ixxxvii. Athelstan exposing his brother Edwin to the sea, and repenting.

lxxxviii. Edgar slaying Ethelwold for false play

in wooing. Wherein may be set out his pride, and lust, which he thought to close by favouring monks and building monasteries. Also the disposition of woman in Elfrida towards her husband. [Peck proposes, and justly, I think, to read cloke instead of close.] Ixxxix. Swane beseidging London, and Ethelred repuls't by the Londoners.

xc. Harold slaine in battel, by William the

Normon. The first scene may begin
with the ghost of Alfred, the second son
of Ethelred, slaine in cruel manner by
Godwin, Harold's father; his mother
and brother dissuading him.
xci. Edmund Ironside defeating the Danes
at Brentford; with his combat with Ca-
nute.

xcii. Edmund Ironside murder'd by Edrick the
traitor, and reveng'd by Canute.
xciii. Gunilda, daughter to king Canute and
Emma, wife to Henry III. emperour,
accus'd of inchastitie; defended by her
English page in combat against a giant-
like adversary; who by him at two blows
is slaine, &c. Speed in the life of Ca-

nute.

xciv. Hardiknute dying in his cups: an example to riot.

xcv. Edward the Confessor's divorsing and imprisoning his noble wife Editha, Godwin's daughter. Wherin is showed his over-affection to strangers, the cause of Godwin's insurrection. Wherein Godwin's forbearance of battel, prais'd; and the English moderation on both sides, magnifi'd. His [Edward's] slacknesse to redresse the corrupt clergie, and superstitious prætence of chastitie.

SCOTCH STORIES, OR RATHER BRI-
TISH OF THE NORTH PARTS.

The

xcvi. Athirco slain by Natholochus, whose daughters he had ravish't; and this Natholocus, usurping thereon the kingdom, seeks to slay the kindred of Athirco, who scape him and conspire against him. He sends a witch to know the event. witch tells the messenger, that he is the man, that shall slay Natholocus. He detests it; but, in his journie home, changes his mind, and performs it. Scotch Chron. English. p. 68, 69. xcvii. Luffe and Donwald. A strange story of witchcraft and murder discover'd and reveng'd. Scotch story, 149 &c. xcviii. Haie, the plowman, who, with his two sons that were at plow, running to the battell that was between the Scots and Danes in the next field, staid the flight of his

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In this MONODY, the author bewails a learned friend, unfortunately drowned in his passage from Chester on the Irish seas, 1637. And by occasion foretells the ruin of our corrupted clergy, then in their height.

[Edward King, the subject of this Monody, was the son of sir John King, knight, secretary for Ireland, under queen Elizabeth, James the first, and Charles the first. He was sailing from Chester to Ireland, on a visit to his friends and relations in that country: these were, his brother sir Robert King, knight; and his sisters, Anne wife of sir George Caulfield lord Claremont, and Margaret, abovementioned, wife of sir George Loder, chief justice of Ireland; Edward King bishop of Elphin, by whom he was baptized; and William Chappel, then dean of Cashel, and provost of Dublin college, who had been his tutor at Christ's college Cambridge, and was afterwards bishop of Cork and Ross, and in this pastoral is probably the same person that is styled old Damoetas, v. 36. When, in calm weather, not far from the English coast, the ship, a very crazy vessel, a fatal and perfidious bark, struck on a rock, and suddenly sunk to the bottom with all that were on board, not one escaping, Aug. 10, 1637. King was now only twentyfive years old. He was perhaps a native of Ireland.

At Cambridge, he was distinguished for his piety, and proficiency in polite literature. He has no inelegant copy of Latin iambics prefixed to a Latin comedy called Senile Odium, acted at Queen's college, Cambridge, by the youth of that society, and written by P. Hausted, Cantab. 1633. 12mo. From which I select these lines, as containing a judicious satire on the false taste, and the customary mechanical or unnatural expedients, of the drama that then subsisted.

Non hic cothurni sanguine insonti rubent,.
Nec flagra Megæræ ferrea horrendum into-
nant;

Noverca nulla sævior Erebo furit ;
Venena nulla, præter illa dulcia
Amoris; atque his vim abstulere noxiam'
Casti lepores, innocua festivitas,

Nativa suavitas, proba elegantia, &c."

countrymen, renew'd the battell, and He also appears with credit in the Cambridge

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Public Verses of his time. He has a copy of Latin iambics, in the Anthologia on the King's Recovery, Cantab. 1632. 4to. p. 43. Of Latin elegiacs, in the Genethliacum Acad. Cantabrig. Ibid. 1631. 4to. p. 39. Of Latin iambics in Rex Redux, Ibid. 1633. 4to. p. 14. See also MYNAIA, from Cambridge, Ibid. 1637. 4to. Signat. C. 3.]

YET Once more, O ye laurels, and once more
Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never-sere,
I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude :
And, with forc'd fingers rude,

Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year:
Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear,
Compels me to disturb your season due :
For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime,
Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer:
Who would not sing for Lycidas? he knew
Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme,
He must not float upon his watery bier
Unwept, and welter to the parching wind,
Without the meed of some melodious tear.

Begin then, Sisters of the sacred well,

That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring;
Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string.
Hence with denial vain, and coy excuse :
So may some gentle Muse

10

With lucky words favour my destin'd urn; 30 And, as he passes, turn,

And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud.

For we were nurs'd upon the self-same hill,
Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill.
Together both, ere the high lawns appear'd
Under the opening eye-lids of the Morn,
We drove afield, and both together heard
What time the gray-fly winds her sultry horn,
Battening our flocks with the fresh dews of night,
Oft till the star, that rose, at evening bright, 30
Toward Heaven's descent had slop'd his wester-
ing wheel.

Mean while the rural ditties were not mute,
Temper'd to the oaten flute;

Rough Satyrs danc'd, and Fauns with cloven heel
From the glad sound would not be absent long;
And old Damotas lov'd to hear our song.

But, O the heavy change, now thou art gone, Now thou art gone, and never must return! Thee, shepherd, thee the woods, and desert caves With wild thyme and the gadding vine o'er

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60

What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore,
The Muse herself, for her enchanting son,
Whom universal Nature did lament,
When, by the rout that made the hideous roar,
His goary visage down the stream was sent,
Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore?
Alas! what boots it with incessant care
To tend the homely, slighted, shepherd's trade,
And strictly meditate the thankless Muse?
Were it not better done, as others use,
To sport with Amaryllis in the shade,
Or with the tangles of Neæra's hair?

71

Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise
(That last infirmity of noble mind)
To scorn delights and live laborious days;
But the fair guerdon when we hope to find,
And think to burst out into sudden blaze,
Comes the blind Fury with the abborred shears,
And slits the thin-spun life. "But not the
praise,"

Phoebus replied, and touch'd my trembling ears;
"Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil,
Nor in the glistering foil

Set off to the world, nor in broad rumour lies:
But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes,
And perfect witness of all-judging Jove;
As he pronounces lastly on each deed,

81

Of so much fame in Heaven expect thy meed.".
O fountain Arethuse, and thou honour'd flood,
Smooth-sliding Mincius, crown'd with vocal reeds!
That strain I heard was of a higher mood:
But now my oat proceeds,

And listens to the herald of the sea
That came in Neptune's plea ;

90

He ask'd the waves, and ask'd the felon winds,
What hard mishap hath doom'd this gentle swain?
And question'd every gust of rugged wings
That blows from off each beaked promontory :
They knew not of his story;

And sage Hippotades their answer brings,
That not a blast was from his dungeon stray'd;
The air was calm, and on the level brine
Sleek Panope with all her sisters play'd.
It was that fatal and perfidious bark,
Built in the eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark,
That sunk so low that sacred head of thine.

100

Next Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow, His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge, Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge Like to that sanguine flower inscrib'd with woe. "Ah! who hath reft "(quoth he)" my dearest Last came, and last did go, [pledge?" The pilot of the Galilean lake; Two massy keys he bore of metals twain, 110 (The golden opes, the iron shuts amain,) He shook his miter'd locks, and stern bespake: "How well could I have spar'd for thee young swain,

Enow of such, as for their bellies' sake
Creep, and intrude, and climb into the fold?
Of other care they little reckoning make,
Than how to scramble at the shearers' feast,
And shove away the worthy bidden guest;
Blind mouths! that scarce themselves know how
to hold

A sheep-hook, or have learn'd aught else the least
That to the faithful herdman's art belongs! 121
What recks it them? What need they? They
are sped;

And, when they list, their lean and flashy songs
Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw;
The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed,
But, swoln with wind and the rank mist they
draw,

130

Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread :
Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw
Daily devours apace, and nothing sed:"
But that two-handed engine at the door
Stands ready to smite oace, and smite no more."
Return, Alpheus, the dread voice is past,
That shrunk thy streams; return, Sicilian Muse,
And call the vales, and bid them hither cast
Their bells, and flowerets of a thousand hues.
Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use
Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks,
On whose fresh lap the swart-star sparely looks;
Throw hither all your quaint enamell'd eyes,
That on the green turf suck the hopied showers,
And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.
Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, 142
The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine,

The white pink, and the pansy freak'd with jet,
The glowing violet,

The musk-rose, and the well-attir'd woodbine,
With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head,
And every flower that sad embroidery wears:
Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed,
And daffadillies fill their cups with tears,
To strew the laureat herse where Lycid lies.
For, so to interpose a little ease,

150

Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise;
Ay me! whilst thee the shores and sounding seas
Wash far away, where'er thy bones are hurl'd,
Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides,
Where thou perhaps, under the whelming tide,
Visit'st the bottom of the monstrous world;
Or whether thou, to our moist vows denied,
Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus old,
Where the great vision of the guarded mount
Looks toward Namancos and Bayona's hold;
Look homeward, angel, now, and melt with ruth:
And, O ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth.

160

[more,

169

Weep no more, woful shepherds, weep no For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor; So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky: So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high, Through the dear might of him that walk'd the

waves;

Where, other groves and other streams along,
With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves,
And hears the unexpressive nuptial song,
In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love.
There entertain him all the saints above,
In solemn troops, and sweet societies,
That sing, and, singing in their glory, move,
And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more; 180
Henceforth thou art the genius of the shore,
In thy large recompense, and shalt be good
To all that wander in that perilous flood.

Thus sang the uncouth swain to the oaks and

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Smooth is then altered to fam'd, and next to nour'd: And soft-sliding to smooth-sliding. Ver. 105. Scraul'd ore with figures dim. Inwrought is in the margin.

Ver. 129. Daily devours apace, and little sed.
Nothing is erased.

Ver. 138. On whose fresh lap the swart star stint ly looks.

At first sparely, as at present. Ver. 139. Bring hither, &c,

Ver. 142. Bring the rathe primrose that unwed ded dies,

Colouring the pale cheek of uninjoy'd love;
And that sad floure that strove
To write his own woes on the vermel
graine:

Next, adde Narcissus t'at still weeps in
vaine;

The woodbine, and the pancie freak't with jet,

The glowing violet,

The cowslip wan that hangs his pensive head,

And every bud that sorrow's liverie weares;

Let daffadillies fill their cupswith teares, Bid amaranthus all his beautie shed. Here also the well-attir'd woodbine appears as at

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