Linsi-woolsie. Or Two centuries of epigrammes. Written by William Gamage Batchelour in the Artes
         Gamage, William.
      
       
         
           1621
        
      
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         A01428
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         ESTC S113824
         99849053
         99849053
         14184
         
           
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             Linsi-woolsie. Or Two centuries of epigrammes. Written by William Gamage Batchelour in the Artes
             Gamage, William.
          
           [96] p.
           
             Printed by Aug. Mathewes for Henry Bell, and are to besold [sic] at his shop in Bethelem without Bishops Gate, at the signe of the Sunne,
             London :
             1621.
          
           
             In verse.
             Signatures: A-F.
             The first and last leaves are blank.
             Reproduction of the original in the Bodleian Library.
          
        
      
    
     
       
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         eng
      
       
         
           Epigrams, English -- Early works to 1800.
        
      
    
     
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           LINSI-WOOLSIE
           OR
           TWO
           CENTVRIES
           OF
           EPIGRAMMES
           .
        
         
           WRITTEN
           By
           WILLIAM
           GAMAGE
           
             Batchelour
             in
             the
             Artes.
          
           
        
         
           Patere
           ,
           aut
           Abstine
           .
        
         
         
           LONDON
           ,
           Printed
           by
           
             Aug.
             Mathewes
          
           for
           
             Henry
             Bell
          
           ,
           and
           are
           to
           be
           sold
           at
           his
           Shop
           in
           Bethelem
           without
           Bishops
           Gate
           ,
           at
           the
           signe
           of
           the
           Sunne
           .
        
      
       
         
         
         
           TO
           THE
           RIGHT
           NOBLE
           ,
           A●…D
           my
           much
           honoured
           Ladie
           ,
           KATHERINE
           ▪
           Ladie
           MANSELL
           ,
           daughter
           to
           the
           Right
           Honourable
           Lord
           ,
           L.
           Viscount
           de
           Lisle
           :
           
             Earths
             Glorie
             ,
             and
             Heauens
             Happinesse
             .
          
        
         
           RARE
           PARAGON
           
             of
             vertne
             ,
             affying
             ,
             or
             rather
             presuming
             on
             your
             heroicall
             disposition
             ,
             I
             haue
             aduentured
             to
             conduct
             to
             the
             open
             field
             of
             the
             World
             Two
             Centuries
             of
             Epigrammes
             ,
             which
             ,
             if
             they
             bee
             deign'd
             to
             march
             vnder
             the
             Banner
             of
             your
             Ho
             :
             protection
             ,
             I
             doubt
             not
             ,
             but
             that
             they
             may
             the
             safer
             ,
             as
             they
             say
             ,
          
           Passe
           the
           Muste●…
           .
           
             And
             the
             rather
             I
             build
             on
             your
             all-fauourable
             patronage
             by
             reason
             of
             your
             Ladyships
             neere
             affinitie
             with
             that
             worthie
             ,
             and
             Tres●…ble
          
           Sir
           Phillip
           Sidney
           ,
           
             whose
             golden
             Pen
             vouchsae
             fed
             to
             Apologize
             the
             renowned
             art
             of
             Poetry
             .
             If
             thimy
             Rurall
             ,
             and
             vnacquainted
             muse
             Limm's
             no●…
             forth
             either
             in
             Matter
             ,
             or
             Manner
             the
             viue
             ●…ort
          
           
           
             traitur
             of
             an
             Epigramme
             ,
             your
             Ladyship
             may
             ea●…
             coniecture
             ,
             that
             it
             was
             rather
          
           Cherillus
           
             Pen
             ,
             and
             not
          
           Apelles
           
             Pencill
             that
             shadowed
             it
             ;
             but
             hoping
             the
             acceptation
             ,
             with
             your
             Ho
             :
             protection
             hereof
             ,
             if
             not
             for
             the
             Worke
             ,
             yet
             for
             the
             names-sake
             ,
             I
             euer
             rest
          
        
         
           Your
           worthy
           Ladyships
           most
           deuoted
           Votorie
           :
        
         
           WILLIAM
           GAMAGE
           .
        
      
       
         
         
           Ad
           Ingeniosum
           ,
           &
           modestum
           amicum
           ,
           
             G.
             Gamage
          
           de
           Epig.
           
        
         
           
             ALpha
             Epigrammatewn
             per
             me
             sit
             noster
             Oënus
             ,
          
           
             Hic
             primum
             ,
             aut
             nemo
             est
             ,
             dignus
             habere
             locum
             :
          
           
             Tuquotus
             es
             Gammagi
             ?
             ex
             nominis
             indice
             ,
             Gamma
             .
          
           
             Sed
             te
             Musa
             facit
             Beta
             Epigrammatewn
             .
          
        
      
       
         
           Ad
           eundem
           de
           eisdem
           .
        
         
           
             GRata
             diù
             fuerant
             quae
             linea-lanea
             ,
             nostris
             ,
          
           
             Gratatamen
             nostris
             tegmina
             ,
             si
             qua
             diù
             .
          
           
             Talia
             tu
             texis
             
               (
               Gamage
            
             )
             Poemata
             ,
             plus
             quàm
          
           
             Lanea
             sunt
             vsu
             Linea
             deliciis
             .
          
           
             Grata
             vt
             sint
             ,
             dubitas
             ,
             bruma
             atque
             aestate
             placebunt
             ,
          
           
             His
             delectari
             femina
             ,
             virque
             queant
             ,
          
           
             Hoc
             tantùm
             distant
             aestatem
             tegmina
             durant
             ,
          
           
             Aetates
             durant
             haec
             tua
             texta
             ,
             vale
             ,
          
        
         
           
             Mo.
             Fortune
             in
             Art
             Mag.
             è
             Col.
             Ie.
             
          
        
      
       
         
           Hexasticon
           .
           In
           fideliss
           .
           amici
           
             G.
             Gamage
          
           Epigrammata
           .
        
         
           
             LAeta
             inuant
             releuando
             graues
             Epigrammata
             mentes
             :
          
           
             Sunt
             tua
             laeta
             satis
             ,
             sunt
             tua
             casta
             satis
             .
          
           
             I●…da
             nè
             metuas
             mordacis
             murmura
             Mo●…
             :
          
           
             Colla●…det
             Mo●…us
             ,
             vel
             meliora
             ferat
             .
          
           
           
             〈◊〉
             documenta
             boni
             ,
             ●…ta
             futura
          
           
             Posteritatis
             erunt
             ,
             scribere
             perge
             ,
             〈◊〉
             .
          
        
         
           
             Ro
             Harris
             in
             Art
             Mag.
             
          
        
      
       
         
           Ad
           Cordatum
           amicum
           
             G.
             Gamage
          
           de
           Epig.
           
        
         
           
             FAecunda
             est
             aetas
             ,
             multos
             tulit
             ista
             Poetas
             ,
          
           
             At
             tibi
             
               (
               Gamagi
            
             )
             non
             tulit
             ista
             parem
             .
          
        
      
       
         
           Aliud
           ad
           Lectorem
           .
        
         
           
             PErlege
             ,
             quicunque
             es
             ,
             decies
             repetita
             placebunt
             ,
          
           
             Aut
             tibi
             ,
             quicunque
             e●…
             ,
             nulla
             placere
             queunt
             .
          
        
         
           
             Hen.
             Atho
             ,
             in
             Art
             Mag.
             
          
        
      
       
         
           Ad
           amicum
           amantiss
           .
           
             G.
             G.
          
           in
           Epig.
           
        
         
           
             LAudibus
             excelsis
             tua
             sunt
             Epigrammata
             salsa
             ,
          
           
             Digna
             ,
             Legat
             Puer
             haec
             ,
             haec
             legat
             ipse
             senex
             .
          
           
             Quamuis
             es
             in●…enis
             ,
             tame●…
             experientia
             rerum
          
           
             Ingeni●…que
             b●…num
             ,
             te
             facit
             esse
             senem
             .
          
           
             Sacre
             Sacra
             canis
             ,
             reso●…sque
             profana
             profanè
             ,
          
           
             Vax
             quoquè
             cuique
             rei
             qu●…libet
             〈◊〉
             s●…at
             .
          
           
             Apparet
             docta
             〈◊〉
             〈◊〉
             lingua
          
           
             〈◊〉
             ,
             〈◊〉
             coluisse
             Ch●…ros
             .
          
        
         
           
             Io.
             Vauhan
             ,
             Art.
             Mag.
             
          
        
      
       
         
         
           Idem
           ad
           Librum
           in
           Zoilum
           .
        
         
           
             SI
             te
             quis
             Zo●…lus
             rabido
             vult
             rodere
             dente
             ,
          
           
             Aetatem
             domini
             ponderet
             ipse
             tui
             .
          
        
      
       
         
           In
           Epig.
           cognati
           ,
           &
           amici
           explorati
           Gu
           Gamage
           .
        
         
           
             SI●…cinè
             disparibus
             lusisti
             moribus
             orbem
             ,
          
           
             Innumeris
             Numeris
             (
             trux
             Epigramma
             )
             tuis
             ?
          
           
             Rustieus
             Vrbanus
             ,
             quid
             vis
             ?
             Bellosus
             ,
             Amator
             ,
          
           
             Magmatibus
             nitidis
             Aulicus
             ?
             hoc
             &
             habet
             .
          
           
             Chaire
             suum
             cuique
             est
             ,
             nec
             vot●…
             ludimus
             vno
             ,
          
           
             His
             diuersa
             placent
             :
             quid
             culis
             ?
             hoc
             &
             habes
             .
          
        
      
       
         
           In
           Zoylum
           .
        
         
           
             Tam
             benè
             compactos
             calamos
             vult
             dente
             repelli
          
           
             Zoylus
             edax
             nostrum
             ?
             subfugat
             ,
             hoc
             nec
             habet
             .
          
           
             Uult
             Numeris
             nostris
             includi
             moribus
             ?
             ecce
          
           
             Rem
             teneat
             ;
             numeret
             furcifer
             :
             hoc
             &
             habe
             .
          
        
         
           
             Gul
             Hughes
             ,
             in
             Art.
             Bacc.
             
          
        
      
       
         
           Idem
           ad
           Librum
           .
        
         
           
             EIà
             agè
             per
             Genios
             faciles
             ,
             Momosque
             per
             ignes
             :
          
           
             Per
             vari●…
             rerum
             faeces
             ,
             per
             saxa
             ,
             per
             vmbras
             .
          
        
      
       
         
         
           Tetra●…ichon
           .
           Ad
           suum
           amicum
           
             Gu.
             Ga.
          
           in
           sua
           Epig.
           
        
         
           
             LA●…dabunt
             omnes
             Epigrammata
             docta
             priorum
             ,
          
           
             Hoc
             opus
             excultum
             vincit
             (
             amice
             )
             tuum
             .
          
           
             Haec
             mandes
             Scriptis
             ;
             es
             Cedro
             digna
             locutus
             ;
          
           
             Te
             presens
             aetas
             ,
             posteriorque
             canent
             .
          
        
         
           
             Hop
             .
             Price
             Gener.
             
          
        
      
       
         
           Ad
           cognatum
           perchariss
           .
           
             G.
             G.
          
           in
           laudem
           Libelli
           .
        
         
           
             HIc
             liber
             est
             parvus
             ,
             non
             parui
             :
             gratia
             paruis
          
           
             Est
             sua
             :
             sic
             libro
             gratia
             magna
             suo
             .
          
           
             Pergas
             ;
             quid
             densis
             latitas
             ,
             Philo●…use
             .
             sub
             vmbris
             ,
          
           
             Aspiret
             coeptis
             aura
             secunda
             tuis
             .
          
        
         
           
             Io.
             Powel
             è
             Coll.
             Oriel
             .
          
        
      
       
         
           To
           his
           friend
           ,
           and
           familiar
           
             W.
             Gamage
          
           of
           his
           Epigrams
           .
        
         
           
             OFt
             haue
             I
             fed
             on
             Epigrammes
             before
             ,
          
           
             With
             which
             my
             appetites
             I
             ouerprest
             ;
          
           
             Thy
             better
             wit
             hath
             kept
             me
             these
             in
             store
             ,
          
           
             〈◊〉
             a
             sweet
             banquet
             to
             disgest
             the
             rest
             :
          
           
             ●…'d
             in
             with
             plates
             of
             Christall
             ,
             scour'd
             so
             cleere
             ,
          
           
             〈◊〉
             to
             each
             guest
             his
             picture
             may
             appeare
             ,
          
        
      
       
         
         
           Another
           to
           the
           same
           .
        
         
           
             If
             what
             Pythagoras
             hath
             wrote
             be
             true
             ,
          
           
             Some
             antique
             Satyre
             liues
             in
             thee
             auew
             ,
          
           
             Nature
             and
             Art
             are
             with
             themselues
             at
             strife
             ,
          
           
             To
             whom
             thou
             hast
             giu'n
             greater
             praise
             or
             life
             ;
          
           
             On
             both
             alike
             ,
             for
             Nature
             first
             began
             ,
          
           
             Then
             Art
             made
             perfect
             what
             from
             nature
             ran
             .
          
        
         
           
             W.
             Hughes
             .
          
        
      
       
         
           To
           my
           lo
           friend
           
             W
             Gamage
          
           in
           the
           praise
           of
           his
           Epigrams
           .
        
         
           
             THy
             ouerlooking
             of
             the
             pleasant
             fields
             ,
          
           
             In
             sport
             abroad
             to
             spend
             some
             idle
             howres
             :
          
           
             Hath
             gath'red
             fruit
             not
             of
             vnfruitfull
             weeds
             ;
          
           
             But
             set
             a
             Banke
             of
             sweet
             and
             fragrant
             flowers
             .
          
           
             Continue
             then
             both
             earl'e
             and
             late
             to
             rise
          
           
             To
             walke
             abroad
             ,
             to
             vse
             this
             exercise
             .
          
        
      
       
         
           Another
           of
           the
           same
           .
        
         
           
             In
             my
             conceipt
             this
             thy
             conceipted
             Booke
             ,
          
           
             Deserues
             the
             stamp
             of
             euerlasting
             praise
             :
          
           
             Feare
             no
             mans
             face
             that
             on
             his
             face
             doth
             looke
             ,
          
           
             His
             forehead
             shines
             with
             complementall
             raies
             .
          
           
             Gamage
             thy
             name
             and
             of
             thy
             age
             the
             Game
          
           
             Thou
             dost
             deserue
             ,
             tho
             not
             desire
             the
             same
             .
          
        
         
           
             Matth.
             Bennet
             .
          
        
      
       
         
         
           The
           Author
           to
           the
           Praisers
           of
           his
           booke
           .
        
         
           
             IT
             feare●…
             me
             ,
             that
             your
             kinde
             heroicall
             Layes
          
           
             Are
             too
             transcendent
             for
             my
             humble
             straine
             :
          
           
             And
             Load-stone-like
             drawe
             to
             themselues
             the
             praise
             ;
          
           
             And
             so
             my
             Muse
             receiue
             a
             dull
             disdaine
             .
          
           
             No
             force
             ,
             I
             hope
             your
             lines
             will
             sooth
             some
             one
          
           
             To
             read
             my
             Booke
             ,
             and
             descant
             thereupon
             .
          
        
      
    
     
       
         
         
           Linsi-Woolsie
           .
           THE
           FIRST
           CENTVRIE
           .
        
         
           
             Epig.
             1.
             
             To
             his
             heroike
             ,
             and
             splendent
             Patronesse
             .
             Katherine
             ,
             Lady
             Mansell
             .
          
           
             
               THis
               stuffe
               of
               mine
               ,
               I
               grant
               ,
               is
               ouercourse
               ,
            
             
               For
               your
               fine
               wearing
               Loadstarre
               of
               our
               Clime
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               let
               it
               serue
               ,
               I
               pray
               ,
               tho
               few
               be
               worse
            
             
               As
               a
               course
               garment
               for
               this
               Winter
               time
               .
            
             
               Ere
               Sommer
               else
               ,
               I
               do
               most
               highly
               feare
               ,
            
             
               That
               Momus
               will
               my
               Loome
               in
               sunder
               teare
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             2.
             
             On
             her
             Name
             .
          
           
             
               C
               CEll
               of
               vertue
               thou
               art
               rare
               ,
            
             
               A
               Any
               with
               for
               to
               compare
               ,
            
             
               T
               That
               doth
               dwell
               in
               Cambers
               Clime
               ,
            
             
               H
               Hauing
               ●…oble
               Sydneys
               Line
               ▪
            
             
               E
               Euer
               beautifie
               thy
               name
               ,
            
             
               R
               Royall
               ,
               worthy
               peereles
               dame
               :
            
             
               I
               In
               vertue
               still
               let
               be
               thy
               dwelling
               ,
            
             
               N
               Neuer
               ill
               ,
               in
               good
               excelling
               ;
            
             
               E
               Eternizing
               so
               thy
               fame
               .
            
             
               M
               Might
               my
               praier
               be
               accepted
               ,
            
             
               A
               Accept
               it
               ,
               Lord
               ,
               and
               graunt
               her
               Ishue
               :
            
             
               N
               Neuer
               none
               to
               be
               reiected
            
             
             
               S
               Send
               her
               ,
               children
               ,
               cloath●…d
               in
               Tishue
               ▪
            
             
               E
               Erect
               her
               calling
               at
               thy
               pleasure
               ,
            
             
               L
               Let
               her
               life
               be
               vertues
               Treasure
               :
            
             
               L
               Lead
               her
               soule
               where
               Angels
               are
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             3.
             
             To
             the
             worthy
             founder
             of
             our
             famous
             Oxonian
             Librarie
             ,
             
               Sir
               Thomas
               Bodley
            
             built
             in
             the
             forme
             of
             a
             T.
             
          
           
             
               THe
               forked
               Y
               ,
               as
               learned
               Sages
               write
               ,
            
             
               Containes
               in
               it
               deepe
               mysteries
               diuine
               :
            
             
               Thy
               target
               T
               if
               that
               I
               true
               endite
               ▪
            
             
               Doeth
               shelter
               in
               't
               more
               many
               a
               sacred
               Line
            
             
               Then
               all
               the
               letters
               of
               that
               *
               sage
               his
               name
               ;
            
             
               Such
               is
               the
               Glory
               of
               thy
               Vaticane
               .
               
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             4.
             
             To
             the
             Reader
             of
             his
             Poëmes
             .
          
           
             
               SOme
               of
               these
               Poeme
               ,
               some
               will
               Satyres
               call
               ,
            
             
               What
               tho
               some
               be
               grim
               Satyres-like
               ,
               and
               tall
               ?
            
             
               Which
               Monsters
               be
               ,
               pertaining
               to
               the
               Wood.
               )
            
             
               These
               do
               molest
               the
               Bad
               ,
               but
               please
               the
               good
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             5.
             
             On
             Zoylus
             ,
             of
             his
             Booke
             .
          
           
             
               ●…Oets
               doe
               stile
               thee
               oft
               a
               biting
               Mate
               ;
            
             
               Which
               argues
               thee
               the
               eater
               of
               some
               Bookes
               :
            
             
             
               Eate
               this
               withall
               ,
               but
               leaue
               to
               Barke
               thereat
               ,
            
             
               So
               that
               in
               fine
               this
               Morsell
               quite
               thee
               choakes
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             6.
             
             A
             Courtizan
             ,
             Etymologized
             .
          
           
             
               A
               Courtizan
               most
               fit
               deriues
               her
               name
               ,
            
             
               By
               her
               conditions
               from
               a
               courteous
               Dame.
            
             
               What
               Nature
               did
               to
               her
               so
               gratis
               giue
               ,
            
             
               With
               this
               shee
               will
               all
               such
               as
               begge
               relieue
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             7.
             
             The
             Noone-tide
             Walker
             of
             Paules
             .
          
           
             
               WHat
               makes
               thee
               stay
               ?
               Wel
               nie
               ,
               since
               all
               be
               gone
               .
            
             
               Thou
               telst
               me
               ,
               cause
               some
               verses
               thou
               wouldst
               make
               .
            
             
               I
               st
               so
               ?
               thou
               mai'st
               since
               thou
               art
               most
               alone
               ,
            
             
               And
               cause
               all
               day
               thy
               Panch
               must
               emptie
               quake
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             8.
             
             Garnet
             ,
             with
             his
             Twelue
             Apostles
             .
          
           
             
               IOseph
               ,
               with
               his
               Apostles
               twelue
               first
               plants
               ,
            
             
               In
               Englands
               Soile
               ,
               Religion
               pure
               to
               grow
               ;
            
             
               But
               thou
               ,
               and
               thy
               twise
               sixe
               infernall
               Wants
               ,
            
             
               Didst
               this
               endeauour
               to
               supplant
               ;
               and
               Sow
            
             
             
               Thy
               Popish
               D●…rnell
               ;
               but
               the
               season
               fail'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               thou
               with
               thine
               ,
               to
               Tyburns
               post
               was
               nail'd
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             9.
             
             The
             sickmans
             Dialogue
             .
          
           
             
               SIcknesse
               what
               art
               ?
               the
               Bodies
               schourging
               Rod
               ;
            
             
               What
               else
               ?
               the
               queller
               of
               thy
               lofty
               blood
               .
            
             
               Moreouer
               what
               ?
               the
               path
               vnto
               thy
               God.
            
             
               And
               what
               in
               fine
               ?
               Deaths
               message
               for
               thy
               good
               .
            
             
               Since
               thou
               art
               then
               the
               soule
               and
               bodies
               weale
               ,
            
             
               Come
               when
               thou
               wilt
               from
               thee
               I
               le
               ne're
               appeale
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             10.
             
             On
             our
             Bacchanalians
             .
             To
             Magistrates
             .
          
           
             
               THunder
               as
               anc'ient
               Poets
               fabulize
               ,
            
             
               Begate
               God
               Bacchus
               ,
               Lord
               of
               all
               misrule
               :
            
             
               No
               wonder
               then
               his
               Nephewes
               ,
               which
               Portize
            
             
               Till
               they
               be
               drunke
               ,
               vse
               clamors
               like
               the
               Mule.
            
             
               Remoue
               the
               cause
               th'
               effect
               soone
               take
               away
               :
            
             
               Yee
               'll
               aske
               me
               how
               ?
               lop
               downe
               the
               Iuie
               Bay.
               
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             11.
             
             To
             his
             deare
             interessed
             friend
             Mr.
             
               M
               Cradocke
            
             .
          
           
             
               AS
               I
               thy
               ground
               did
               compasse
               and
               o're-looke
            
             
               I
               compassed
               well
               nie
               ,
               this
               triuiall
               Booke
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             12.
             
             〈◊〉
             〈◊〉
             Bucci●…s
             .
             To
             his
             〈◊〉
             .
             Mr
             
               Rob
               Lloyd
            
             .
          
           
             
               ORe
               many
               are
               ,
               as
               we
               may
               daily
               see
               ,
            
             
               That
               start
               too
               soone
               to
               Moyses
               sacred
               ●…eat
               ;
            
             
               Before
               they
               fit
               beneath
               G●…aliels
               knee
               ,
            
             
               To
               sucke
               the
               Nectar
               of
               his
               flowing
               Teat
               .
            
             
               These
               Bro●…hers
               be
               of
               schisme
               and
               heresie
               ,
            
             
               Not
               skilling
               how
               to
               teach
               or
               edifie
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             13.
             
             To
             the
             worthie
             Mecoenas
             of
             learning
             Mr.
             
               Anthony
               Guin
            
             ,
             Esquier
             .
          
           
             
               AMongst
               the
               Scythians
               Anacharsis
               sage
            
             
               Was
               their
               sole
               Clearke
               ,
               the
               *
               Prouerbe
               verifies
               .
            
             
               I
               will
               not
               say
               ,
               in
               this
               our
               learned
               age
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               art
               sole
               Phoenix
               ,
               in
               arts
               Mysteries
               .
            
             
               But
               this
               I
               'le
               say
               ,
               in
               this
               our
               barren
               Clime
               :
            
             
               Thou
               ●…t
               the
               best
               Mecoenas
               vnto
               thine
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             14.
             
             To
             the
             studious
             Gent
             ,
             Mr.
             
               I.
               Carne
            
             .
          
           
             
               THy
               s●…dious
               Booke
               ,
               thy
               bla●…ed
               fame
               shall
               ring
               :
            
             
               When
               others
               pastime
               ●…o
               great
               shame
               shall
               bri●…
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             15.
             
             Un●…
             〈◊〉
             .
             To
             his
             respectiue
             fr.
             Mr
             
               Row
               Harries
            
             ,
             of
             pious
             ,
             religious
             scholler
             ,
             Mr.
             
               Hop
               .
               Price
            
             ,
             lately
             deceased
             .
          
           
             
               SOme
               graue
               in
               yeares
               ▪
               in
               lore
               but
               childish
               yet
               ,
            
             
               In
               stud'ing
               ,
               fleering
               ,
               fleeting
               ,
               fading
               toies
               .
            
             
               But
               thou
               ,
               yong
               Price
               ,
               hadst
               cert's
               a
               grauer
               wit
            
             
               In
               conniug
               precepts
               of
               aye
               lasting
               ioyes
               .
            
             
               Let
               these
               alone
               t'
               enioy
               their
               fruitlesse
               art
               ;
            
             
               Thou
               doubtlesse
               now
               hast
               chose
               the
               *
               better
               part
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             16.
             
             To
             our
             Moderne
             Epigra●…matists
             ,
             of
             his
             Poems
             .
          
           
             
               AL
               Arts
               ,
               which
               latest
               come
               to
               common
               view
               ,
            
             
               Are
               commonly
               the
               best
               without
               compare
               ;
            
             
               But
               in
               these
               lines
               you
               cannot
               finde
               this
               true
               ,
            
             
               Like
               timelesse
               fruits
               ,
               vnmellowed
               right
               which
               are
               ,
            
             
               For
               you
               haue
               gatherd
               all
               the
               Sommers
               flowers
               .
            
             
               Heere
               are
               but
               leauings
               mixt
               with
               Hyems
               showers
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             17.
             
             One
             Mouns●…er
             Elatus
             ,
             deceased
             .
          
           
             
               IT
               lately
               seemd
               by
               thy
               aspiring
               mind
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               totall
               wast
               compos'd
               of
               loftie
               fire
               :
            
             
             
               Which
               vpwards
               tends
               ,
               the
               place
               to
               it
               assign'd
               ,
            
             
               But
               thy
               downefall
               vnto
               the
               basest
               *
               mire
               ,
            
             
               Betokens
               now
               thy
               substance
               was
               but
               clay
               ;
            
             
               Which
               should
               haue
               stoopt
               thy
               loftinesse
               alway
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             18.
             
             A
             new
             Conuert
             .
          
           
             
               THy
               change
               was
               good
               ,
               from
               bloody
               ▪
               killing
               sword
               ;
            
             
               To
               Preach
               and
               Teach
               the
               euer
               liuing
               Word
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             19.
             
             A
             rare
             Metamorphosis
             .
          
           
             
               IS
               it
               not
               strange
               in
               this
               our
               yron
               Age
               ?
            
             
               To
               see
               one
               clime
               to
               Pulpit
               ,
               from
               the
               Stage
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             20.
             
             The
             Epitaph
             of
             the
             studious
             Gent.
             Mr.
             
               Hop
               .
               Price
            
             ,
             To
             the
             worshipfull
             ,
             his
             louing
             Father
             Mr.
             
               Wm.
               Price
            
             ,
             Esquier
             .
          
           
             
               AS
               my
               true
               loue
               was
               loyall
               vnto
               thee
               ,
            
             
               Whiles
               that
               thou
               breathst
               within
               this
               valty
               Cell
               ;
            
             
               Which
               shall
               not
               end
               with
               thy
               mortalitie
               ,
            
             
               But
               in
               the
               graue
               with
               thee
               shall
               euer
               dwell
               :
            
             
               So
               take
               these
               farwels
               as
               thy
               only
               due
               ,
            
             
             
               Of
               thy
               deare
               friend
               ,
               thy
               death
               which
               doth
               〈◊〉
               .
            
             
               Farewell
               ,
               bright
               Gem
               of
               learnings
               worthie
               grace
               ;
            
             
               Farewell
               ,
               great
               hope
               of
               all
               the
               Muses
               nine
               ;
            
             
               Farwell
               ,
               sweet
               Impe
               ,
               with
               thy
               Angellike
               face
               ;
            
             
               Farewell
               embracer
               of
               the
               Word
               diuine
               .
            
             
               Farewell
               ,
               deere
               Price
               ,
               whose
               price
               I
               cannot
               count
               :
            
             
               Farewell
               ,
               vntill
               we
               meet
               in
               Sions
               Mount.
               
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             21.
             
             Duke
             Humfrey
             〈◊〉
             .
          
           
             
               THy
               Tombe
               has
               gratis
               more
               spectators
               e're
            
             
               Then
               those
               of
               Westminster
               for
               Coine
               I
               wote
               ;
            
             
               'T
               is
               strange
               ,
               therefore
               they
               doe
               not
               pay
               more
               deare
               ,
            
             
               But
               as
               I
               gesse
               ,
               they
               be
               not
               worth
               a
               grote
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             22.
             
             Gullus
             ,
             Grillus
             .
          
           
             
               Gu
               :
            
             
               HOw
               goes
               the
               world
               ,
               my
               Grillus
               ,
               now
               with
               thee
               ?
            
          
           
             
               Gr
               :
            
             
               Comrade
               ,
               my
               life
               naught
               is
               but
               slauerie
               ;
            
          
           
             
               Gu
               :
            
             
               How
               so
               ,
               a
               Freeman
               for
               to
               be
               a
               thrall
               ?
            
          
           
             
               Gr
               :
            
             
               Free
               borne
               ,
               but
               yet
               ,
               Don
               Magnus
               Tenis
               Ball.
               
            
          
           
             
               Gu
               :
            
             
               Cashiere
               his
               yoke
               cast
               of
               his
               seruile
               Badge
               .
            
          
           
             
               Gr
               :
            
             
               Oh
               ,
               no
               ,
               for
               feare
               of
               his
               most
               furious
               rage
               .
            
          
           
             
               Gu
               :
            
             
               What
               World
               is
               this
               ?
               must
               you
               be
               Rombus
               slaue
               ?
            
          
           
             
               Gr
               :
            
             
               Yes
               ;
               else
               for
               such
               ,
               iust
               nothing
               we
               can
               haue
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             23.
             
             To
             I
             G.
             
          
           
             
               THy
               Crosses
               were
               full
               many
               in
               account
               ;
            
             
               But
               ,
               ay
               ,
               one
               *
               Manie
               ,
               doth
               these
               many
               moun●…
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             24.
             
             Tillage
             .
             To
             his
             fr.
             Mr.
             
               Ie.
               Cradocke
            
             .
          
           
             
               TIllage
               is
               good
               ,
               the
               Husbandmans
               true
               badge
               ;
            
             
               While
               youth
               remaines
               ,
               still
               fructifies
               ,
               Till
               Age.
               
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             25.
             
             The
             Symp●…hie
             of
             Law
             ,
             and
             Logicke
             .
             To
             his
             Academ●…
             Cousen
             ,
             
               Io.
               Powel
            
             .
          
           
             
               THe
               subtile
               Logicke
               ,
               and
               the
               craftie
               Law
               ,
            
             
               Most
               equally
               within
               one
               yoke
               doth
               draw
               .
            
             
               Both
               vse
               *
               Deceipts
               ,
               the
               one
               for
               glorie
               vaine
               ,
            
             
               Th'
               other
               doth
               abuse
               it
               for
               his
               Gaine
               .
            
             
               Both
               Brawlers
               be
               ,
               and
               doe
               for
               euer
               iarre
               .
            
             
               Th'
               one
               at
               Schoole
               ,
               the
               other
               at
               the
               Barre
               .
            
             
               But
               of
               all
               〈◊〉
               we
               must
               chuse
               the
               lesse
               ;
            
             
               And
               from
               Impostors
               vs
               for
               euer
               blesse
               .
            
             
               To
               Logicks
               quipping
               tongue
               ,
               I
               'ld
               rather
               stand
               :
            
             
               Then
               to
               Lawes
               cruell
               ,
               shearing
               ,
               shauing
               hand
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             26.
             
             Quicquid
             in
             〈◊〉
             venerit
             .
             To
             Mi●…r
             Futilis
             .
          
           
             
               THy
               Siuie
               breast
               can
               keepe
               no
               secrecie
               ,
            
             
               But
               force●…
               all
               things
               there●…ut
               for
               to
               ●…e
               :
            
             
               If
               there
               were
               vent
               to
               gable
               lie
               ,
               or
               truth
               ;
            
             
               Thy
               breast
               should
               be
               in
               lieu
               of
               open
               mouth
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             27.
             
             Fides
             so●…
             〈◊〉
             .
             To
             Mr
             Wadams
             ,
             the
             worthy
             founder
             of
             a
             new
             Co●…
             ledge
             in
             Oxford
             .
          
           
             
               THe
               Popi●…
               sect
               faire
               Colleges
               did
               〈◊〉
            
             
               Whereby
               they
               tho●…
               themselues
               to
               ●…tifie
               ;
            
             
               But
               sole
               true
               Faith
               we
               see
               doth
               now
               adaies
               ,
            
             
               Produce
               Good
               daughters
               ,
               workes
               of
               〈◊〉
               .
            
             
               Which
               caus'd
               ,
               I
               thinke
               our
               Wadam
               so
               to
               wade
               ,
            
             
               In
               building
               Columnes
               ,
               which
               shall
               neuer
               fade
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             28.
             
             On
             Cur●…s
             ,
             and
             C●…riosus
             .
          
           
             
               I
               Did
               forcee
               thee
               present
               my
               faultlesse
               B●…ll
               ,
            
             
               And
               praid
               there●…
               thy
               hand
               to
               vnder-write
               ;
            
             
               Thou
               toldst
               ●…ay
               ;
               for
               that
               t'
               was
               framed
               ill
               ,
            
             
               ●…d
               why
               ?
               thou
               s●…st
               ,
               cause
               faults
               it
               did
               not
               cite
               .
            
             
             
               Thou
               differst
               then
               from
               Curiosus
               quite
               ,
            
             
               Which
               will
               subscribe
               to
               all
               but
               to
               the
               Rite
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             29.
             
             To
             M●…nsier
             After
             .
          
           
             
               AFter
               ,
               in
               what
               ?
               in
               name
               ,
               sure
               not
               in
               Lore
               ,
            
             
               For
               most
               Sr.
               Iohns
               thou
               wentest
               bold
               ,
               Before
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             30.
             
             To
             King
             Iames
             ,
             Brittaines
             royall
             Monarch
             .
          
           
             
               THe
               Vnico●…e
               ,
               and
               Lion
               ioine
               in
               loue
               ,
            
             
               Which
               props
               the
               Armes
               of
               our
               most
               Gracious
               King
               ;
            
             
               Tho
               enemies
               in
               all
               things
               else
               they
               proue
            
             
               Themselues
               vnto
               themselues
               ;
               a
               wondrous
               thing
               ;
            
             
               That
               beasts
               should
               be
               more
               humane
               in
               their
               kind
               ,
            
             
               To
               〈◊〉
               pearle
               ;
               then
               mens
               Diuisions
               blind
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             31.
             
             To
             the
             ●…st
             illustrious
             Brothers
             ,
             the
             Earles
             of
             Pembroke
             ,
             and
             〈◊〉
             .
          
           
             
               WAles
               stiles
               you
               Both
               with
               titles
               great
               of
               fame
               :
            
             
               You
               pay
               '
               ir
               alike
               ,
               your
               Greatnesse
               mounts
               〈◊〉
               Name
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             32.
             
             To
             the
             learned
             and
             ingenious
             Diuine
             ,
             Mr.
             D.
             Hall
             ,
             of
             his
             Uowes
             Cent.
             
          
           
             
               SOme
               vow
               ,
               and
               breake
               ;
               thou
               vowstand
               dost
               fulfill
               ;
            
             
               Such
               is
               the
               difference
               'twixt
               good
               ,
               and
               ill
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             33.
             
             In
             the
             praise
             of
             Brasen-nose
             Coll.
             
          
           
             
               THy
               Nose
               more
               famousis
               ,
               tho
               't
               be
               of
               Brasse
               ,
            
             
               Then
               many
               a
               head
               of
               many
               a
               golden
               Asse
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             34.
             
             To
             his
             louing
             fr.
             Mr.
             
               Ie.
               Price
            
             .
             Batch
             of
             Diuinitie
             .
          
           
             
               VVEll
               may
               we
               liken
               Gods
               most
               Sacred
               Writ
               ,
            
             
               Vnto
               the
               forme
               of
               Alcibiades
               :
            
             
               Which
               outwardly
               lookt
               plaine
               ,
               and
               nothing
               bright
               ,
            
             
               But
               inwardly
               ,
               most
               like
               faire
               Goddesses
               :
            
             
               So
               doth
               Gods
               Word
               seeme
               rude
               ,
               in
               outward
               face
               ;
            
             
               But
               the
               cleare
               Spirit
               yeelds
               a
               shining
               grace
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             35.
             
             On
             perfidious
             Carle
             ,
             the
             Loue-maker
             .
          
           
             
               CArle
               will
               not
               keepe
               promise
               ,
               wote
               ye
               why
               ?
            
             
               He
               thinkes
               by
               Law
               all
               Suiters
               well
               may
               ly
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             36.
             
             To
             his
             friend
             and
             Phisition
             Mr.
             
               Wm.
               Voyle
            
             .
          
           
             
               MY
               friend
               thou
               hast
               a
               griefe
               in
               Phisicks
               art
               ,
            
             
               Called
               ,
               Me
               noli
               tangere
               ,
               by
               name
               ;
            
             
               For
               being
               touch't
               it
               forthwith
               yeeldeth
               smart
               .
            
             
               How
               caust
               thou
               then
               to
               this
               a
               Med'cine
               frame
               ?
            
             
               Each
               griefe
               ,
               I
               thinke
               within
               thy
               *
               Bookish
               Cell
               ,
            
             
               With
               this
               griefes
               name
               will
               be
               contented
               well
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             37.
             
             To
             his
             golden
             Gildus
             .
          
           
             
               THe
               feign'd
               Vtopian
               *
               weareth
               in
               his
               eare
            
             
               A
               ring
               of
               Gold
               in
               lieu
               of
               infamie
               ;
            
             
               But
               ,
               Gildus
               thou
               ,
               Gold
               eare-rings
               still
               dost
               weare
               ,
            
             
               Which
               is
               thou
               sa●…st
               ,
               thy selfe
               to
               glorifie
               .
            
             
               What
               glorie
               i
               st
               ?
               it
               serues
               to
               hide
               the
               sore
               ,
            
             
               Which
               in
               thy
               eares
               the
               Pillorie
               did
               Bore
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             38.
             
             To
             sober
             Mr.
             Beuans
             .
          
           
             
               SObrietie
               thou
               count'st
               a
               sinne
               ,
               and
               why
               ?
            
             
               Because
               thou
               seldome
               liuest
               soberly
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             39.
             
             The
             Sheepheards
             Calenders
             Arithmeticke
             .
          
           
             
               THou
               Kalender
               of
               Sheepheards
               farre
               didst
               err●…
               ,
            
             
               In
               numbring
               Gods
               Commandements
               by
               rote
               ;
            
             
               When
               Nine
               for
               Ten
               for
               Truth
               thou
               didst
               auerre
               ,
            
             
               Leauing
               the
               second
               out
               ,
               not
               least
               of
               note
               .
            
             
               This
               thy
               substraction
               serues
               no
               other
               Sheepe
            
             
               But
               thine
               ;
               which
               basely
               to
               the
               Image
               creepe
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             40.
             
             Perkin●…
             .
          
           
             
               THou
               sweet
               ,
               profound
               Diuine
               ,
               with
               one
               sole
               hand
               ,
            
             
               Didst
               raze
               more
               buildings
               of
               the
               Popish
               frame
               ,
            
             
               Then
               many
               a
               one
               ,
               that
               seeketh
               to
               withstand
            
             
               With
               both
               at
               once
               the
               Gunshot
               of
               the
               same
               .
            
             
               Heere
               doth
               the
               Maim'd
               ,
               (
               a
               wonder
               )
               as
               we
               see
            
             
               The
               whole
               o're-match
               ,
               in
               Christ
               his
               Soulderie
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             41.
             
             To
             Sr.
             
               Io.
               Stradling
            
             ,
             Knight
             and
             Baro●…et
             ,
             of
             his
             learned
             Epig.
             
          
           
             
               THy
               Muse
               fits
               not
               the
               vulgar
               in
               effect
               :
            
             
               For
               reading
               ,
               s●…ns
               conceit
               ,
               is
               to
               neglect
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             42.
             
             Iewell
             ,
             the
             Hammer
             of
             Heretickes
             .
          
           
             
               THou
               Iewel
               wast
               a
               iewel
               rare
               indeed
               ▪
            
             
               Of
               value
               more
               then
               is
               the
               Ophir
               gold
               :
            
             
               For
               this
               doth
               only
               decke
               the
               bodies
               weed
               ;
            
             
               But
               thy
               most
               heau'nly
               words
               most
               sweetly
               rowld
            
             
               Doe
               decke
               the
               soule
               ;
               and
               thy
               keene
               English
               Pen
            
             
               Did
               cut
               *
               his
               throat
               ,
               that
               sung
               the
               Popes
               Amen
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             43.
             
             D.
             Rainolds
             Ghost
             .
          
           
             
               VVHat
               made
               thee
               Atlas
               of
               our
               Church
               diuine
               ?
            
             
               For
               to
               decline
               so
               vnder
               thy
               light
               paise
               :
            
             
               Which
               neuer
               stoopst
               to
               any
               Popish
               shrine
            
             
               In
               all
               thy
               life
               ;
               but
               loth'st
               such
               Trash
               alwaies
               .
            
             
               Thy
               answer
               is
               hereto
               most
               right
               I
               doome
               ,
            
             
               Burning
               to
               vs
               thou
               didst
               thy selfe
               consume
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             44.
             
             To
             Mr.
             Blable
             the
             Tale-teller
             .
          
           
             
               DAme
               Nature
               gaue
               thee
               two
               eares
               and
               two
               eies
               ,
            
             
               My
               wheel-tongu'd
               Gemy
               )
               which
               doth
               seldōe
               stay
               ,
            
             
               And
               but
               one
               mouth
               (
               through
               her
               fore-knowledge
               wise
               )
            
             
               That
               thou
               shouldst
               more
               both
               heare
               ,
               &
               see
               ,
               then
               bray
               .
            
             
               But
               thou
               dost
               blab
               against
               Minerua's
               Law
            
             
               More
               then
               thy
               Eares
               did
               heare
               ,
               or
               Eies
               ere
               saw
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             45.
             
             To
             the
             H●…
             :
             and
             most
             vertuous
             Lady
             ,
             Barbara
             ,
             Vicecountesse
             de
             Lisle
             ,
             the
             Omega
             of
             the
             Gamages
             .
          
           
             
               AL
               Riuers
               that
               do
               run
               to
               Neptunes
               Vast
               ,
            
             
               Do
               loose
               their
               names
               let
               them
               be
               ne're
               so
               great
               :
            
             
               So
               thy
               great
               Gransiers
               names
               in
               thee
               at
               last
               ,
            
             
               Do
               loose
               their
               stile
               ,
               and
               Coyties
               royall
               seat
               .
            
             
               What
               tho
               ?
               is
               not
               the
               sea
               of
               more
               renowne
            
             
               Then
               Riuers
               ,
               which
               in
               him
               themselues
               do
               drowne
               ?
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             46.
             
             
               Gabriel
               Goodman
            
             ,
             heretofore
             Deane
             of
             Westminster
             .
          
           
             
               GOodman
               wast
               hight
               ,
               (
               and
               lesse
               I
               misse
               to
               scan
               )
            
             
               Thou
               wast
               indeed
               a
               zealous
               right
               good
               man.
               
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             47.
             
             T●…
             Baccho
             ,
             quam
             Vulcane
             .
             To
             Hugh
             ,
             the
             Ale-Draper
             .
          
           
             
               THou
               art
               a
               Crafts-man
               good
               ;
               yet
               all
               thy
               Craft
            
             
               Cannot
               detaine
               thee
               from
               too
               deepe
               a
               Draft
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             48.
             
             To
             the
             noble
             heroicke
             Gent
             :
             Sir
             
               William
               Sidney
            
             Knight
             of
             the
             place
             of
             his
             Natiuitie
             .
          
           
             
               ZEland
               did
               blaze
               thy
               birth
               ,
               be
               like
               thy
               name
               ;
            
             
               Then
               Sea
               ,
               and
               Land
               ,
               shal
               Trump
               thy
               Golden
               fame
               ,
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             49.
             
             To
             Zutphen
             ,
             a
             Towne
             in
             Gilderland
             ,
             at
             the
             Beleagring
             of
             which
             ,
             the
             renowned
             Sir
             
               Phillip
               Sidney
            
             was
             killed
             .
          
           
             
               I
               Wist
               not
               which
               thy
               fame
               or
               infamie
               ,
            
             
               Doth
               more
               exceede
               ,
               in
               causing
               Sidney
               :
               fall
               :
            
             
               But
               yet
               ,
               I
               rather
               thinke
               thy
               fame
               ,
               for
               why
               ?
            
             
               Before
               that
               time
               thou
               hadst
               no
               fame
               at
               all
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             50.
             
             On
             Elizabeths
             Embleme
             ,
             late
             Queene
             of
             England
             ,
             Tanquam
             Ou
             ts
             .
          
           
             
               THou
               wast
               a
               Sheep
               ,
               &
               Wolues
               thy
               Shepheards
               were
               ;
            
             
               How
               didst
               thou
               then
               escape
               Deaths
               bloody
               hand
               ?
            
             
               Another
               *
               shepheard
               which
               doth
               rule
               the
               Spheare
               ,
            
             
               Did
               these
               fell
               shepheards
               wondrously
               withstand
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             51.
             
             〈◊〉
             
               Du
               Bartas
            
             praise
             ,
             and
             his
             Transsator
             .
          
           
             
               RIght
               well
               
                 Du
                 Bartas
              
               may
               we
               call
               thy
               name
               ,
            
             
               For
               *
               D●…
               in
               Welch
               betokens
               more
               then
               Ma●…
               .
            
             
               So
               wast
               ,
               I
               thinke
               ,
               when
               thou
               thy
               Laies
               didst
               frame
               ,
            
             
               Such
               Heaunly
               Muse
               sole
               Man
               could
               scarcely
               scan
               .
            
             
               And
               Iosuah
               thou
               that
               tookst
               this
               verse
               in
               hand
            
             
               To
               turne
               ;
               for
               ere
               thy
               ..
               sunne
               of
               praise
               shall
               stand
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             52.
             
             To
             wise
             Lusca
          
           
             
               I
               Wonder
               ,
               Lusca
               ,
               of
               thy
               foolish
               Pate
               ,
            
             
               Which
               to
               thy
               husband
               hast
               so
               wise
               a
               Mate
               ;
            
             
               He
               should
               haue
               powr'd
               into
               thy selfe
               being
               One
            
             
               Linkt
               to
               himselfe
               ,
               some
               wisdome
               long
               agone
               .
            
             
               But
               ,
               as
               I
               gesse
               ,
               thy
               head
               is
               farc'd
               so
               full
            
             
               With
               folly
               ,
               that
               no
               lore
               can
               pearce
               thy
               scull
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             53.
             
             To
             publicke
             Lata
             ,
             alias
             ,
             Wh.
             
          
           
             
               VVHy
               do
               men
               call
               thee
               ,
               Publicke
               ?
               for
               I
               weene
               ,
            
             
               What
               thou
               commit'st
               is
               not
               in
               Publick
               seene
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             54.
             
             On
             Fabius
             ,
             to
             the
             Readers
             .
          
           
             
               THou
               didst
               resigne
               thy
               Office
               ,
               wot
               yee
               why
               ?
            
             
               Because
               thou
               sai'st
               thou
               hardst
               a
               Rat
               to
               Squeake
               :
            
             
               None
               would
               haue
               wondred
               at
               thy
               foolerie
               ,
            
             
               In
               leauing
               it
               ,
               if
               thou
               hadst
               hard
               her
               Speake
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             55.
             
             Pilling
             and
             Poling
             ,
             to
             Damon
             ,
             and
             Damon
             .
          
           
             
               Da
               
            
             
               HOw
               i
               st
               Comrade
               ?
               we
               both
               professe
               the
               Law
               ,
            
             
               Therfore
               we
               should
               in
               one
               yoke
               equal
               draw
               .
            
          
           
             
               Da
               :
            
             
               We
               do
               ;
               but
               in
               the
               Manner
               we
               disioine
               ,
            
             
               I
               ciuill
               do
               ,
               thou
               common
               dost
               Purloine
               .
            
          
           
             
               Da
               :
            
             
               No
               force
               ,
               our
               Maners
               both
               shall
               Manours
               buy
               ;
            
          
           
             
               Da
               :
            
             
               Why
               then
               I
               le
               shaue
               ,
               and
               sley
               thou
               Equitie
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             56.
             
             To
             the
             most
             learned
             ,
             and
             Heauenly
             Diuine
             ,
             Doctor
             Holland
             ,
             Doctor
             of
             the
             Chaire
             ,
             lately
             Deceased
             .
          
           
             
               THy
               sacred
               Chaire
               did
               oft
               from
               Earth
               thee
               Mount
               :
            
             
               No
               maruell
               ;
               for
               of
               Earth
               thou
               nought
               didst
               count
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             57.
             
             To
             Sir
             Hebes
             ,
             the
             〈◊〉
             Empericke
             .
          
           
             
               VVHat
               difference
               twixt
               the
               Papists
               Vnction
               ,
            
             
               And
               thine
               ?
               for
               both
               we
               see
               be
               quite
               extream
               ;
            
             
               No
               great
               ;
               they
               vse
               it
               when
               all
               helpe
               is
               gone
               ,
            
             
               And
               thou
               hereby
               more
               kill'st
               then
               curst
               ,
               I
               deeme
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             58.
             
             To
             his
             louing
             friend
             Mr.
             
               Ie.
               Mayos
            
             ,
             Preacher
             of
             Gods
             Word
             .
          
           
             
               IN
               the
               Church
               primatiue
               ,
               *
               deuoted
               men
               ,
            
             
               Did
               lay
               their
               Treasures
               at
               the
               Apostles
               feete
               ;
            
             
               But
               the
               Derivatiue
               ,
               alas
               ,
               since
               then
               ,
            
             
               Allowance
               poore
               allots
               to
               Preachers
               meete
               .
            
             
               But
               like
               their
               brother
               Ananias
               ,
               they
               ,
            
             
               Yeeld
               their
               poore
               Pastors
               ,
               but
               a
               ::
               part
               of
               Pay.
               
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             59.
             
             To
             his
             friend
             
               R.
               Loue.
            
             
          
           
             
               LOue
               oft
               is
               taken
               for
               blinde
               Cupids
               Game
               ,
            
             
               So
               is
               allloue
               ,
               that
               's
               only
               but
               in
               Name
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             60.
             
             To
             the
             Illustrious
             L
             :
             Viscount
             de
             Lisle
             ,
             brother
             to
             Noble
             Sir
             
               Phil.
               Sidney
            
             .
          
           
             
               THough
               not
               in
               Name
               vnto
               thy
               brother
               deere
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               thou
               in
               Nature
               art
               his
               worthy
               peere
               ;
            
             
             
               His
               fame
               extolled
               ,
               blazed
               forth
               his
               name
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               name
               exalted
               ,
               Trumpets
               loud
               thy
               fame
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             61.
             
             To
             the
             worthy
             Mecoenas
             of
             learning
             ,
             
               Oliuer
               ,
               Lo
            
             :
             St.
             Iohn
             ,
             Baron
             of
             Bledso
             .
          
           
             
               VVE
               Scholers
               may
               ,
               St.
               Iohn
               ,
               thee
               stile
               right
               well
               ,
            
             
               Which
               gratis
               giu'st
               to
               a
               Saints
               what
               others
               sell.
               
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             62.
             
             The
             Gilden
             Mile
             .
          
           
             
               IF
               that
               same
               Mile
               were
               farced
               full
               with
               Gold
               ,
            
             
               That
               's
               Gilden
               call'd
               ,
               for
               her
               smooth-silken
               face
               ;
            
             
               Then
               would
               our
               Mony
               Miners
               sure
               be
               bold
            
             
               Her
               path
               faire-superficies
               to
               deface
               .
            
             
               Then
               should
               she
               right
               her
               Gilden
               name
               forsake
               ;
            
             
               And
               for
               the
               same
               a
               gauled
               name
               might
               take
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             63.
             
             Ius
             ,
             and
             Iurista
             Robbing
             poore
             Luscus
             .
          
           
             
               Ius
               :
            
             
               HOw
               i
               st
               colleague
               ?
               how
               goes
               Don-Luscus
               case
               ?
            
          
           
             
               Iur
               :
            
             
               Clean
               backwarts
               ;
               sans
               of
               Angels
               bright
               a
               brase
            
          
           
             
               Ius
               :
            
             
               These
               heau'nly
               be
               ,
               how
               then
               canst
               thou
               then
               haue
               ?
            
          
           
             
               Iur
               :
            
             
               Friend
               ,
               thou
               mistak'st
               the
               earthly
               I
               do
               craue
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             64.
             
             On
             Thrasc●…o
             ,
             the
             kill
             Cow.
             
          
           
             
               I
               Meete
               percase
               Dell
               Thrasco
               at
               the
               shore
               ,
            
             
               As
               he
               came
               fresh
               from
               Irelands
               dismall
               warre
               ;
            
             
               I
               askt
               what
               newes
               ?
               He
               told
               me
               all
               ,
               and
               more
               ,
            
             
               How
               he
               himselfe
               did
               thousands
               kill
               ,
               and
               skarre
               .
            
             
               I
               him
               beleeu'd
               ,
               for
               he
               did
               beare
               about
            
             
               Whole
               multitudes
               of
               the
               *
               rebellious
               Rout.
               
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             65.
             
             To
             his
             louing
             friend
             Mr.
             
               R.
               Tho.
            
             
          
           
             
               a
               THese
               seeme
               in
               peace
               to
               liue
               in
               b
               midst
               of
               war
               ,
            
             
               So
               blind
               we
               iudge
               when
               with
               c
               our selues
               we
               iar
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig
             66.
             
             Brittaines
             Burse
             .
             To
             the
             famous
             late
             Earle
             of
             Sarisburie
             .
          
           
             
               FVll
               fraught
               with
               store
               shall
               be
               thy
               famous
               Bursse
               ,
            
             
               When
               p●…nilesse
               shall
               be
               the
               Misers
               purse
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig
             67.
             
             To
             the
             ingenious
             Epigrammatists
             
               Io.
               Owens
            
             ,
             and
             
               Io.
               Heath
            
             ,
             both
             brought
             vp
             in
          
           
             
               THough
               you
               were
               both
               not
               of
               one
               Mother
               bore
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               nursed
               were
               you
               at
               the
               selfe
               same
               a
               brest
               :
            
             
               For
               fluent
               Genious
               ,
               and
               ingenious
               lore
               ,
            
             
               And
               the
               same
               Dugges
               successiuely
               haue
               prest
               .
            
             
               T
               is
               true
               yee
               are
               but
               Fosterers
               by
               birth
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               brothers
               right
               in
               Rimes
               conceiptfull
               mirth
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             68.
             
             To
             Blincke
             ,
             the
             Archer
             .
          
           
             
               CVpid
               is
               blinde
               ,
               yet
               neuer
               misse
               the
               white
               :
            
             
               But
               thou
               dost
               see
               ,
               yet
               neuer
               shoot'st
               aright
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             69.
             
             On
             franticke
             Fiscus
             .
          
           
             
               THe
               Prouerbe
               is
               ,
               a
               Dame
               Mony
               can
               do
               All
               ;
            
             
               It
               instigates
               the
               Theefe
               to
               kill
               and
               steale
               .
            
             
               It
               Spurres
               the
               Merchant
               On
               ,
               to
               Round
               the
               Ball
            
             
               Of
               this
               vast
               Orbe
               ,
               to'enrich
               his
               Common-weale
               .
            
             
               What
               can
               it
               not
               ?
               It
               causeth
               vs
               runne
               mad
               ,
            
             
               And
               Fiscus
               too
               ,
               being
               therewith
               ouerclad
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             70.
             
             The
             capring
             Corde
             .
             To
             theeuish
             Lato
             ,
             and
             Clownish
             Leto
             .
          
           
             
               VVHat
               wouldst
               haue
               done
               with
               that
               strong
               ,
               halter
               Nick
            
             
               Which
               ,
               Lato
               thought
               t'
               exchange
               for
               thy
               Gold
            
             
               Thou
               in
               it
               wouldst
               haue
               showne
               a
               capring
               Trick
               ,
            
             
               And
               stretch
               thy
               Necke
               in
               that
               Racke
               ,
               long
               of
               old
               .
            
             
               But
               since
               thou
               scap'st
               ,
               giue
               Lato's
               Corde
               againe
               ,
            
             
               His
               right
               ,
               t'
               is
               pitty
               from
               him
               to
               detaine
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             71.
             
             On
             the
             Worldlings
             question
             .
          
           
             
               THe
               common
               question
               now
               a
               daies
               doth
               passe
               ,
            
             
               Not
               what
               shee
               is
               ▪
               but
               what
               sweet
               Mopsa
               ha's
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             72.
             
             One
             the
             Natiuity
             of
             Q●…ne
             
               Elizabeth
               ▪
            
             borne
             ●…n
             the
             Eue
             of
             the
             Natiuitie
             of
             M●…
             .
          
           
             
               THy
               Virgin
               Birth
               vpon
               a
               Virgins
               Eue
               ,
            
             
               Did
               true
               Presage
               thou
               should'st
               a
               Virgin
               Liue.
               
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             73.
             
             To
             our
             Nauigators
             ,
             seeking
             heare
             the
             Port
             of
             Rest.
             
          
           
             
               YEe
               Neptunes
               Plowmen
               ,
               yeare
               cleane
               astray
               ,
            
             
               Which
               seeke
               on
               Earth
               the
               Port
               of
               quiet
               Rest
               ;
            
             
               Direct
               your
               course
               vnto
               Olympus
               Bay
               ,
            
             
               This
               of
               all
               other
               Capes
               is
               sure
               the
               Best
               .
            
             
               But
               your
               calme
               sea
               must
               be
               the
               liquid
               Aire
               ,
            
             
               Your
               ships
               ,
               your
               sailes
               the
               wings
               not
               of
               Despaire
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             74.
             
             A
             paire
             Royall
             of
             Fiends
             :
          
           
             
               IF
               friendship
               true
               did
               ere
               in
               Bad
               ones
               stay
               ,
            
             
               It
               did
               remaine
               in
               
                 Bengfield
                 ,
                 Winchester
              
               ,
            
             
               And
               Constable
               ,
               three
               men
               of
               Hels
               array
               ,
            
             
               Which
               sought
               Elyza'in
               in
               hir
               Prime
               to
               smoother
               .
            
             
               I
               may
               not
               tearme
               these
               paire
               of
               Royall
               friends
            
             
               But
               rather
               paire
               of
               most
               disloyall
               fiends
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             75.
             
             To
             his
             louing
             Cosen
             Mr
             
               Rees
               Myricke
            
             .
          
           
             
               THou
               shalt
               now
               light
               on
               many
               a
               compleat
               frie
               ,
            
             
               That
               will
               thee
               call
               ,
               most
               louing
               Cosin
               ,
               kinde
               ,
            
             
               Which
               neuer
               skill'd
               it
               by
               arts
               Heraldrie
               ;
            
             
               ●…ake
               heed
               ,
               this
               Cosin
               ,
               mai'st
               a
               cousner
               finde
               .
            
             
               For
               Iudas-like
               hee
               'll
               Haile
               thee
               with
               a
               kisse
               ;
            
             
               And
               to
               betray
               ,
               such
               Cheaters
               seldome
               misse
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             76.
             
             On
             Fu●…ke
             ,
             the
             Gor●…diser
             .
             To
             his
             Cousen
             
               Row
               :
               Vaughan
            
             ,
             student
             in
             Physicke
             .
          
           
             
               PHysitians
               sav
               ,
               all
               sicknesse
               doth
               proceed
            
             
               From
               o're
               aboundance
               ,
               or
               Vacuitie
               ;
            
             
               Whereof
               ,
               the
               first
               thou
               verifi'st
               in
               deed
            
             
               My
               Fuske
               ,
               by
               gorging
               thy
               profunditie
               .
            
             
               And
               'fore
               that
               nature
               should
               a
               Vacuum
               graunt
            
             
               Within
               thy
               Panch
               ;
               Death-Surfeit
               thou
               wilt
               haunt
               ,
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             77
             On
             an
             Inne
             ,
             Grac'd
             with
             the
             Flower-de-Luce
             .
          
           
             
               Th'
               art
               brauely
               deckt
               without
               ,
               with
               Frānce
               faire
               Armes
               ,
            
             
               But
               stain'd
               within
               with
               her
               most
               lothsome
               Harmes
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             78.
             
             Coytie
             Castle
             ,
             and
             Radyr
             house
             exclaiming
             on
             Time.
             
          
           
             
               WOrld
               wasting
               Time
               ,
               thou
               worker
               of
               our
               woes
            
             
               Thou
               keene
               edg'd
               rasor
               of
               our
               famous
               name
               ,
            
             
               That
               antique
               was
               but
               now
               obliuious
               growes
               ,
            
             
               The
               subiect
               almost
               of
               contempt
               and
               shame
               .
            
             
               Yet
               doe
               thy
               worst
               ,
               our
               names
               shall
               liue
               for
               ay
               ,
            
             
               Altho
               our
               fame
               thou
               buried
               hast
               in
               Clay
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             79.
             
             Almes
             Deeds
             .
             On
             Pinch-Peny
             ,
             Tent.
             
          
           
             
               SOme
               Treasures
               cast
               into
               the
               poore
               mans
               Box
               ,
            
             
               Some
               slender
               Mites
               according
               to
               their
               state
               ;
            
             
               But
               thou
               didst
               neuer
               (
               Tent
               )
               once
               o'pe
               thy
               Lockes
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               Mydas
               muck
               for
               to
               anihilate
               .
            
             
               But
               stuff'st
               his
               maw
               with
               Roundings
               for
               to
               eate
               ,
            
             
               To
               still
               his
               crie
               ,
               which
               did
               for
               coine
               intreate
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             80
             To
             the
             studious
             ,
             and
             noble
             Gent
             Sir
             
               R.
               Sidney
            
             knight
             of
             the
             Bath
             .
          
           
             
               THe
               waters
               giue
               thee
               Titles
               ;
               but
               the
               earth
            
             
               Shall
               adde
               great
               Trophies
               to
               thy
               greater
               Birth
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             81.
             
             Lalus
             ,
             and
             Lelius
             .
          
           
             
               LAlus
               presuming
               on
               a
               dram
               of
               Lore
               ,
            
             
               Did
               Lelius
               daughter
               for
               his
               Mate
               implore
               .
            
             
               Tush
               Princocke
               proud
               who
               scornefully
               repli'de
               ,
            
             
               Think'st
               thou
               to
               haue
               my
               Darling
               ,
               for
               thy
               Bride
               ?
            
          
           
             
               La
               :
            
             
               I
               am
               a
               Scholler
               ,
               so
               I
               may
               growe
               great
               ,
            
             
               And
               may
               heereafter
               sit
               in
               princely
               seat
               .
            
          
           
             
               Le
               :
            
             
               What
               dost
               professe
               ?
               what
               is
               thy
               facultie
               ?
            
          
           
             
               
               La
               :
            
             
               I
               study
               sacred
               deepe
               Diuinitie
               .
            
          
           
             
               Le
               :
            
             
               Tut
               ,
               what
               a
               Priest
               ?
               a
               Tenant
               but
               for
               life
               ?
            
             
               Pack
               hence
               thou
               getst
               not
               my
               ioy
               for
               thy
               wife
               .
            
          
           
             
               La
               :
            
             
               Be
               patient
               Sir
               ,
               let
               me
               win
               your
               good
               will
               ,
            
             
               I
               am
               a
               Lawier
               ,
               full
               of
               Playdons
               skill
               .
            
          
           
             
               Le
               :
            
             
               I'
               st
               so
               ?
               why
               then
               I
               'le
               instantly
               thee
               wiue
            
             
               Vnto
               my
               child
               ,
               for
               thou
               art
               like
               to
               thriue
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             82.
             
             On
             Prudentius
             ,
             a
             Christian
             Poet.
             
          
           
             
               T
               Is
               not
               thy
               name
               makes
               thee
               deale
               prudently
               ,
            
             
               But
               thy
               profession
               ,
               Christianitie
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             83.
             
             To
             the
             most
             Reuer
             in
             Christ.
             Francis
             :
             B.
             of
             Landaffe
             on
             his
          
           
             
               THough
               no
               Record
               shall
               Register
               thy
               fame
               ,
            
             
               *
               Thine
               owne
               Records
               enrowled
               haue
               the
               same
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             84.
             
             The
             Crab
             Tree
             .
          
           
             
               OF
               all
               the
               Trees
               ,
               the
               Crab
               Tree
               ,
               I
               thinke
               best
               ;
            
             
               The
               Oake
               is
               strong
               great
               buildings
               to
               erect
               ,
            
             
             
               The
               Firre
               Tree
               faire
               to
               frame
               thereof
               a
               chest
               ,
            
             
               The
               Ew
               most
               fit
               an
               arrow
               to
               direct
               )
            
             
               But
               this
               has
               in
               't
               a
               pretious
               Baulme
               to
               cure
            
             
               The
               poys'ned
               stings
               which
               womens
               tongs
               procure
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             85.
             
             On
             our
             fleering
             ,
             fawning
             ,
             trecherous
             Gnathoes
             .
          
           
             
               THe
               temp'rat
               Zones
               ,
               as
               a
               Naso
               testifies
               ,
            
             
               Participate
               of
               heate
               ,
               and
               cold
               commixt
               .
            
             
               Heerein
               I
               thinke
               ,
               he
               vents
               out
               truth
               ,
               not
               lies
               ;
            
             
               Because
               that
               many
               in
               these
               Climat's
               fixt
               ,
            
             
               Doe
               ,
               as
               the
               Prouerbe
               saith
               ,
               in
               either
               hand
               ,
            
             
               Both
               carry
               Water
               ,
               and
               a
               burning
               Brand.
               
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             86.
             
             On
             Golden
             Simonie
             .
             To
             his
             deere
             affectiue
             Cousen
             ,
             Mr.
             
               I.
               Pralpth
            
             .
          
           
             
               AT
               first
               ,
               I
               know
               ,
               our
               ghostly
               Simonie
               ,
            
             
               His
               name
               deriu'd
               from
               
                 Simon
                 Magus
              
               ,
               iust
               ,
            
             
               But
               now
               adaies
               ,
               I
               thinke
               it
               verily
               ,
            
             
               It
               tooke
               his
               name
               from
               See-money
               accurst
               .
            
             
               Heereby
               Sir
               Iohn
               gets
               him
               a
               liuing
               fat
               ,
            
             
               That
               neuer
               knew
               the
               Latine
               for
               his
               hat
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             87.
             
             Heauens
             Diademe
             .
             To
             his
             fr.
             and
             familiar
             ,
             
               W.
               Io.
            
             
          
           
             
               MOst
               wonder
               will
               to
               heare
               a
               beggars
               brat
            
             
               Should
               haue
               as
               good
               ,
               as
               large
               an
               heritage
               ,
            
             
               As
               the
               rich
               heire
               of
               some
               great
               Potentate
               ,
            
             
               That
               whilome
               was
               ,
               or
               is
               in
               this
               our
               Age.
            
             
               But
               so
               it
               is
               ,
               the
               Heauens
               Hirarchie
            
             
               To
               Spade
               belongs
               ,
               as
               well
               to
               Scepter
               hie
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             88.
             
             Perkins
             cases
             ,
             the
             Diuine
             .
          
           
             
               THy
               sacred
               Cases
               conscionable
               bee
               ,
            
             
               And
               why
               not
               Fips
               because
               he
               nips
               the
               Fee.
               
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             89.
             
             To
             the
             most
             Reuer
             .
             Father
             in
             Christ
             ,
             Anth.
             B
             of
             St.
             Dauids
             .
             Of
             his
             learned
             conceipts
             painted
             in
             his
             hall
             .
          
           
             
               SOme
               Pen
               conceips
               their
               ingine
               sole
               to
               shew
               ,
            
             
               But
               thine
               doe
               wit
               ,
               and
               sacred
               Lore
               containe
               :
            
             
               Which
               tho
               domesticke
               be
               ,
               for
               priuate
               vew
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               fame
               to
               publish
               yet
               ,
               they
               doe
               pertaine
               .
            
             
               If
               any
               question
               why
               they
               secret
               lie
               ,
            
             
               I
               say
               because
               the
               Pencill
               cannot
               flie
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             90.
             
             On
             his
             Brother
             buried
             in
             Zealand
             .
          
           
             
               VVHat
               though
               thy
               corps
               ,
               as
               is
               the
               a
               custome
               old
               ,
            
             
               With
               thy
               forefathers
               doth
               not
               lie
               ingrau'd
               ?
            
             
               I
               trust
               thy
               sonte
               with
               theirs
               be
               safe
               enrowl'd
            
             
               Within
               the
               b
               Booke
               of
               life
               ,
               most
               certaine
               sau'd
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             91.
             
             To
             the
             hypocriticall
             Papist
             ,
             wearing
             the
             Gospell
             of
             Saint
             Iohn
             about
             his
             necke
             .
          
           
             
               THou
               well
               this
               Book
               about
               thy
               neck
               mai'st
               weare
               :
            
             
               For
               ,
               this
               ,
               I
               know
               thy
               heart
               it
               comes
               not
               neere
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             92.
             
             To
             his
             cordiall
             fr.
             Mr.
             
               Moore
               Fortune
            
             ,
             heeretofore
             a
             Traueller
             .
             Of
             Virginia
             .
          
           
             
               THe
               Naturall
               a
               Virginianist's
               beleeue
               ,
            
             
               All
               creatures
               ,
               both
               visible
               ,
               vnseene
               ;
            
             
               That
               were
               ,
               or
               shall
               ,
               or
               doe
               on
               earth
               now
               liue
               ,
            
             
               To
               be
               composed
               of
               light
               water
               greene
               .
            
             
               A
               light
               beliefe
               ,
               more
               light
               then
               is
               the
               water
               ;
            
             
               To
               deeme
               that
               all
               was
               made
               of
               such
               a
               matter
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             93.
             
             In
             ●…edio
             virtus
             .
             To
             his
             friend
             
               Rich.
               Iohnes
            
             .
          
           
             
               VErtue
               they
               say
               'twixt
               two
               extreames
               doth
               stand
               ,
            
             
               To
               separate
               Superlatiues
               in
               ill
               :
            
             
               Which
               true
               we
               finde
               in
               Brodefoord
               with
               her
               Strand
               ,
            
             
               That
               parts
               Lauryddian
               ,
               'gainst
               Lanellies
               will.
            
             
               Else
               sure
               the
               bibbers
               of
               these
               famous
               Townes
               ,
            
             
               Would
               meet
               full
               oft
               to
               cracke
               their
               giddie
               crownes
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             94.
             
             To
             the
             learned
             ,
             honest
             ,
             and
             Pious
             Gent.
             Mr.
             
               Th.
               Leysons
            
             ,
             Phisitian
             ;
             of
             the
             Bathes
             .
          
           
             
               YOur
               Bathes
               partake
               of
               waters
               cold
               ,
               hot
               too
               ,
            
             
               A
               wonder
               't
               were
               ,
               but
               that
               they
               wonders
               doe
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             95.
             
             On
             the
             Orchadians
             with
             their
             Bestiall
             fellowship
             .
          
           
             
               IT
               ill
               befits
               for
               Man
               and
               beast
               to
               lie
            
             
               I●…
               one selfe
               roome
               without
               partitions
               shreene
               ;
            
             
               Which
               the
               Orchadians
               hereof
               testifies
               .
            
             
               〈◊〉
               match
               ill
               made
               together
               as
               I
               weene
               .
            
             
               Vnlesse
               it
               be
               for
               loue
               of
               buggerie
               ,
            
             
               The
               worst
               of
               kinde
               with
               beasts
               to
               multiply
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             96.
             
             To
             the
             Censurers
             of
             these
             vulgar
             Poesies
             ,
             Epigrams
             .
          
           
             
               SOme
               carping
               Criticks
               doubtlesse
               will
               auerre
               ,
            
             
               This
               kind
               of
               rime
               to
               haue
               a
               common
               hew
               ,
            
             
               And
               therefore
               harsh
               ,
               because
               it
               doth
               inferre
            
             
               No
               nouell
               forme
               ;
               like
               to
               the
               fashion
               new
               ;
            
             
               No
               maruell
               ,
               for
               it
               is
               the
               worlds
               true
               guise
               ,
            
             
               The
               new
               to
               loue
               the
               ancient
               to
               despise
               ,
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             97.
             
             To
             ingenious
             Ben.
             Iohnson
             .
          
           
             
               IF
               that
               thy
               Lore
               were
               equall
               to
               thy
               wit
               :
            
             
               Thou
               in
               Apollo's
               chaire
               mightst
               iustly
               sit
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             98.
             
             The
             Tra●…ller
             ,
          
           
             
               COsting
               Catita
               ,
               t'
               was
               my
               chance
               to
               meet
            
             
               Alumnus
               poore
               ,
               whom
               kindly
               I
               did
               greet
               :
            
             
               And
               askt
               what
               newes
               ?
               who
               ,
               sighing
               ,
               did
               impart
               ,
            
             
               Which
               to
               vnlace
               ,
               said
               he
               ,
               torments
               my
               heart
               .
            
             
               But
               hoping
               ,
               friend
               thou
               wilt
               condole
               with
               me
               :
            
             
               I
               will
               vnfold
               what
               I
               too
               common
               see
               .
            
             
               The
               vnderling
               in
               Church
               ,
               and
               Common-weale
               ,
            
             
               Must
               trauaile
               ,
               trudge
               ,
               of
               bondage
               the
               viue
               seale
               ;
            
             
               And
               when
               his
               sorrie
               Sallarie
               would
               game
               ,
            
             
             
               He
               oft
               receaues
               his
               labour
               for
               his
               paine
               .
            
             
               The
               Poore
               Pedant
               ,
               who
               liues
               a
               seruile
               life
               ,
            
             
               Which
               euer
               toiles
               ,
               turmoiles
               in
               endlesse
               strife
               ;
            
             
               Must
               be
               to
               all
               ,
               yea
               to
               the
               Clowne
               a
               Slaue
               ,
            
             
               And
               for
               his
               owne
               ,
               with
               cap
               and
               knee
               must
               craue
               .
            
             
               The
               needy
               student
               wanting
               meanes
               to
               liue
               ,
            
             
               Detesting
               by
               the
               former
               waies
               to
               thriue
               :
            
             
               The
               Ocean
               furrowes
               ,
               being
               quite
               out
               of
               hope
               ,
            
             
               And
               either
               serues
               fierce
               Mauors
               ,
               or
               the
               Pope
               .
            
             
               Alas
               ,
               quoth
               I
               ,
               is
               this
               the
               best
               reward
               ?
            
             
               That
               good
               deserts
               reapes
               in
               this
               fertile
               soile
               ?
            
             
               Yes
               certs
               ,
               said
               he
               ,
               but
               for
               the
               soules
               regard
               ,
            
             
               T'
               were
               better
               farre
               at
               the
               Plow's
               taile
               to
               toile
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             99.
             
             To
             long
             Megge
             of
             Westminster
             .
          
           
             
               ALl
               cald
               thee
               ,
               long
               Megge
               ,
               true
               ;
               they
               did
               not
               misse
               ;
            
             
               If
               broad
               Megge
               too
               ,
               they
               had
               not
               fail'd
               ,
               I
               ●…is
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             100.
             
             To
             the
             kinde
             Reader
             ,
             of
             the
             Censure
             of
             my
             Booke
             .
          
           
             
               SOme
               will
               ,
               no
               doubt
               ,
               thee
               aske
               of
               this
               my
               Booke
               ,
            
             
               Whither't
               be
               good
               ;
               perhaps
               thou
               'lt
               say
               ;
               so
               ,
               so
               .
            
             
             
               Thy
               iudgement
               giue
               not
               so
               ,
               I
               pray
               thee
               ,
               looke
               :
            
             
               But
               heereof
               rather
               answere
               him
               ;
               no
               no.
            
             
               Then
               I
               le
               be
               sure
               to
               shun
               each
               curious
               frie
               :
            
             
               That
               nought
               but
               faults
               in
               Writings
               can
               espie
               .
            
          
        
         
           The
           end
           of
           the
           first
           Centurie
           .
        
         
           Patere
           ,
           aut
           Abstine
           .
        
      
       
         
         
           THE
           SECOND
           CENTVRIE
           .
        
         
           
             Epig.
             1.
             
             To
             his
             worthy
             Ho
             :
             Patronesse
             ,
             Catherine
             ,
             Lady
             Mansell
             .
          
           
             
               THy
               splendent
               name
               ,
               I
               doe
               not
               know
               right
               well
               ,
            
             
               Or
               blazed
               fame
               ,
               in
               praise
               doth
               most
               excell
               ;
            
             
               But
               both
               vnite
               ,
               and
               both
               shall
               equall
               be
               ,
            
             
               Such
               is
               thy
               praise
               ,
               sans
               partialitie
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             2.
             
             On
             our
             vulgar
             Pie-Poets
             .
             To
             the
             Readers
             .
          
           
             
               AN
               Epigram
               ,
               I
               graunt
               is
               common
               grown
               ,
            
             
               Squis'd
               out
               of
               Coblers
               ,
               Tinkers
               ,
               base
               of
               Trade
               ;
            
             
               (
               Whereby
               of
               yore
               the
               learned
               well
               was
               knowne
               ,
            
             
               Whose
               warbling
               songs
               was
               not
               by
               Coopers
               made
               .
               )
            
             
               Such
               sordid
               stuffe
               we
               should
               cast
               of
               in
               hast
               ,
            
             
               And
               will
               Sr.
               Sutor
               not
               to
               passe
               his
               Last
               .
               
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             3.
             
             To
             the
             learned
             Diuine
             Mr.
             
               Francis
               Sydney
            
             .
          
           
             
               SOme
               of
               thy
               name
               doe
               braue
               Trill
               Pallas
               Lance
               ;
            
             
               And
               thou
               most
               graue
               her
               Lawrell
               dost
               aduance
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             4.
             
             On
             the
             Mercilesse
             Niggard
             .
             To
             his
             decre
             Cosin
             ,
             
               Edm.
               Basset
            
             .
          
           
             
               THe
               Base
               we
               see
               do
               commonly
               admire
               ,
            
             
               And
               high
               esteeme
               the
               Baslings
               of
               this
               Earth
               :
            
             
               As
               Siluer
               Gold
               ,
               Brasse
               ,
               Yron
               Lead
               ,
               and
               Wire
               ,
            
             
               So
               that
               if
               famine
               fals
               ,
               or
               pining
               Dearth
               ,
            
             
               Scarse
               will
               they
               spare
               ,
               yea
               to
               themselues
               one
               crum
               ,
            
             
               Much
               lesse
               to
               Others
               ,
               to
               their
               Doores
               which
               come
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             5.
             
             To
             his
             lo
             :
             friend
             Mr.
             
               M.
               Hopkins
            
             .
          
           
             
               WIth
               dolefull
               sighes
               right
               well
               may
               we
               compare
               ,
            
             
               The
               Leuit's
               liuing
               par'd
               on
               either
               side
               ;
            
             
               By
               greedy
               Patron
               thence
               which
               culs
               his
               share
               ,
            
             
               And
               Dunstus
               dumbe
               ,
               in
               learning
               little
               tri'de
               :
            
             
               Vnto
               the
               Cheese
               ,
               which
               Banbury
               doth
               yeeld
               ,
            
             
               Which
               looks
               most
               poor
               ,
               on
               both
               sides
               cleanly
               peeld
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             6.
             
             The
             Naturalized
             Dutch-man
             .
             To
             his
             kinde
             Comrade
             ,
             and
             lo
             :
             Cosin
             ,
             Mr.
             
               William
               Hughes
            
             .
          
           
             
               WE
               say
               ,
               one
               fault
               marres
               somes
               good
               qualities
               ;
            
             
               But
               Contrary
               in
               the
               right
               Flemming
               borne
               ,
            
             
             
               One
               Good'mends
               all
               his
               superfluities
            
             
               Of
               bad
               conditions
               ,
               to
               be
               ere
               forlorne
               :
            
             
               His
               Bibbing
               ,
               Rashues
               ,
               Mercenary
               fight
               ;
            
             
               But
               worthre
               praise
               ,
               for
               a
               seruing
               God
               aright
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig
             7.
             
             On
             the
             worldlings
             Auarice
             .
             To
             his
             lo
             :
             friend
             Mr.
             
               Io
               :
               Roberts
            
             ,
             alaborious
             Preacher
             of
             Gods
             Word
             .
          
           
             
               THe
               faithfull
               Abr'am
               for
               his
               Heritage
            
             
               Did
               rest
               content
               with
               promise
               of
               a
               Land
               :
            
             
               Whereto
               the
               faithlesse
               Bastards
               of
               our
               Age
               ,
            
             
               Words
               nought
               auaile
               without
               performance-Band
               .
            
             
               Yet
               see
               the
               difference
               'twixt
               the
               Sonnes
               ,
               and
               Sire
               ,
            
             
               He
               Heauen
               gate
               ,
               base
               Earth
               they
               sole
               Desire
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             8.
             
             Agriculture
             .
             To
             his
             lo
             :
             friend
             
               Io
               G.
            
             
          
           
             
               LIke
               Nero
               ,
               many
               do
               enbowell
               deepe
            
             
               Their
               Mother
               Earth
               ,
               for
               White
               and
               yellow
               Mine
               :
            
             
               And
               others
               do
               into
               Her
               concaues
               creepe
            
             
               Like
               Pluto's
               swart
               ,
               darke
               coles
               to
               digge
               that
               shine
               .
            
             
               But
               thou
               art
               farre
               more
               Naturall
               then
               They
               ,
            
             
               Which
               dost
               but
               ,
               Rase
               thy
               Mothers
               face
               of
               Clay
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             9.
             
             To
             one
             ,
             declining
             vnder
             the
             yoke
             of
             Affliction
             .
          
           
             
               VVHat
               tho
               thy
               cofers
               be
               not
               stuffed
               hard
            
             
               With
               Caesars
               crosses
               ,
               all
               of
               beaten
               gold
               :
            
             
               And
               all
               the
               crosses
               of
               the
               Popes
               be
               bard
            
             
               Thy
               house
               ;
               yet
               faint
               not
               ;
               but
               be
               euer
               bold
               .
            
             
               For
               thou
               hast
               had
               those
               crosses
               ,
               that
               exceede
            
             
               Farre
               these
               ;
               which
               be
               Christs
               crosses
               ,
               best
               in
               deed
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             10.
             a
             Babylon
             Metamorphosed
             .
             To
             his
             lo
             friend
             Mr.
             
               Math.
               Bennet
            
             .
          
           
             
               THou
               boastest
               proud
               ,
               that
               thou
               dost
               rule
               as
               a
               Queene
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               art
               mistake
               ,
               't
               is
               rather
               like
               a
               b
               Quene
               .
               a
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             11.
             
             On
             Sir
             
               Phill.
               Sidneys
            
             Arcadia
             .
          
           
             
               THy
               workes
               are
               worthy
               praise
               ,
               and
               why
               ,
               I
               pray
               ?
            
             
               Because
               that
               none
               can
               these
               dispraise
               ,
               I
               say
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             12.
             
             To
             his
             lo
             :
             friend
             Mr.
             
               M
               Hop
            
             :
             for
             the
             loane
             of
             Dod
             ,
             and
             Cleauer
             on
             the
             Decalogue
             .
          
           
             
               DOd
               with
               his
               Cleauer
               cleaues
               the
               stonie
               rocke
            
             
               Of
               our
               hard
               hearts
               through
               their
               laborious
               pain
               :
            
             
             
               And
               plaines
               the
               way
               most
               plaine
               for
               Christ
               his
               flock
               ,
            
             
               That
               leads
               o're
               hils
               to
               the
               celestiall
               plaine
               .
            
             
               These
               paire
               of
               friends
               with
               thankes
               I
               send
               againe
               ,
            
             
               Though
               two
               in
               Name
               ,
               in
               Nature
               yet
               not
               twaine
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             13.
             
             On
             the
             monstrous
             sin
             of
             Drunkennesse
             .
          
           
             
               THat
               a
               stoicall
               sage
               did
               drunkennesse
               prescribe
            
             
               A
               salue
               most
               sure
               vnto
               a
               quiet
               minde
               ;
            
             
               Which
               spuing
               potion
               most
               of
               euery
               Tribe
               ,
            
             
               Now
               takes
               ,
               which
               workes
               most
               brauely
               ,
               as
               we
               finde
               .
            
             
               It
               causeth
               vomits
               ,
               doth
               phlebotomize
               ,
            
             
               And
               more
               ,
               the
               dumbe
               doth
               cause
               to
               Rhetorize
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             14.
             
             To
             the
             hopefull
             ,
             and
             courteous
             Courtier
             ,
             young
             St.
             
               Edw.
               Lewis
            
             .
          
           
             
               THe
               Court
               ,
               thy
               Name
               may
               better
               ,
               I
               confesse
               :
            
             
               But
               not
               thy
               Nature
               ,
               lesse
               I
               misse
               to
               gesse
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             15.
             
             Worm'shead
             .
             To
             his
             approued
             good
             fr.
             
               T.
               Rog.
            
             
          
           
             
               A
               Rocke
               there
               is
               that
               
                 〈◊〉
                 shead
              
               has
               to
               name
               ,
            
             
               Within
               whose
               Concaues
               ,
               fish
               ,
               and
               fowle
               do
               br●…ed
               :
            
             
             
               A
               wonder
               strange
               ,
               which
               merits
               blazing
               fame
               ,
            
             
               That
               stones
               ,
               the
               selfe
               same
               Rocke
               ,
               and
               eke
               indeed
            
             
               At
               the
               same
               time
               ,
               the
               feathered
               bird
               ,
               the
               fish
            
             
               Should
               feed
               ,
               and
               stanch
               their
               appetites
               at
               wish
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             16.
             
             Christ
             ,
             and
             Apollo
             .
             To
             Physitians
             .
          
           
             
               BOth
               ,
               sores
               of
               soule
               and
               bodie
               Christ
               doth
               cure
               .
            
             
               Which
               cannot
               Synthius
               ,
               which
               you
               say
               is
               sure
            
             
               A
               God
               ;
               and
               a
               God
               ,
               they
               say
               ,
               can
               all
               effect
               ,
            
             
               But
               certs
               ,
               I
               thinke
               ,
               your
               God
               has
               this
               defect
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             17.
             
             On
             curious
             questionists
             .
             To
             his
             lo
             :
             fr.
             
               Har
               :
               Iohnes
            
             .
          
           
             
               TOo
               many
               are
               of
               curious
               Questionists
               ,
            
             
               That
               proud
               demands
               what
               God
               himselfe
               did
               frame
               ,
            
             
               before
               a'fram'd
               the
               World
               wherein
               consists
            
             
               All
               Cre'tures
               that
               both
               Sauage
               be
               ,
               and
               tame
               .
            
             
               Which
               cannot
               yet
               their
               
                 Pater
                 noster
              
               say
               ,
            
             
               Vnlesse
               perhaps
               in
               Latine
               cleane
               astray
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             18.
             
             To
             his
             lo
             :
             fr
             :
             Mr.
             
               W.
               Awbrey
            
             ,
             an
             ingenious
             A●…agr
             ▪
             matist
             ,
             late
             turned
             a
             Minister
             .
          
           
             
               I●…
               that
               the
               Censure
               of
               the
               Gabalists
            
             
               〈◊〉
               true
               ,
               which
               saith
               their
               lies
               in
               each
               mans
               name
            
             
               By
               the
               inuersion
               of
               Hieroglyphists
               ,
            
             
               His
               fatall
               fortunes
               ,
               or
               his
               blazed
               fame
               .
            
             
               Which
               in
               thy
               name
               thou
               didst
               ,
               I
               thinke
               out
               finde
            
             
               When
               to
               that
               sacred
               coat
               thou
               gau'st
               thy
               minde
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             19.
             
             Pengwin
             ,
             the
             eight
             wonder
             of
             the
             World.
             To
             ●…s
             Cousen
             
               Rees
               Griffith
            
             a
             Peregrinator
             .
          
           
             
               THe
               vniuerse
               ,
               as
               we
               may
               reade
               ,
               containes
            
             
               But
               only
               seauen
               wonders
               ,
               strange
               and
               rare
               ;
            
             
               The
               eight
               ,
               to
               make
               the
               number
               eu'n
               ,
               remaines
               ,
            
             
               Which
               Disticke-wise
               ,
               herein
               I
               will
               declare
               .
            
             
               This
               is
               a
               Bird
               ,
               that
               Pengwin
               has
               to
               name
               ,
            
             
               Which
               neuer
               slew
               ,
               and
               yet
               was
               neuer
               tame
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             20.
             
             To
             the
             cour●…us
             Ge●…
             .
             M.
             
               Arth.
               Mansell
            
             .
          
           
             
               AS
               thou
               art
               Arthur
               excellent
               in
               Name
               ,
            
             
               In
               Nature
               to
               ,
               I
               wish
               thee
               eke
               the
               same
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             21.
             
             The
             I
             le
             of
             the
             Crosse.
             
          
           
             
               I
               Gesse
               ,
               a
               Columbus
               gaue
               that
               fitting
               name
            
             
               To
               that
               same
               Clime
               ,
               which
               he
               cals
               Crucis
               Ile
               ;
            
             
               Because
               there
               Cannibals
               without
               all
               shame
               ,
            
             
               Doe
               eate
               mens
               flesh
               ,
               which
               they
               to
               them
               beguile
               .
            
             
               Which
               first
               they
               fix
               vnto
               a
               Crux
               to
               feede
               ,
            
             
               Like
               to
               an
               Oxe
               ,
               being
               fat
               they
               cause
               to
               bleede
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             22.
             
             On
             curious
             Damaetas
             .
             To
             his
             Cousen
             
               H.
               Tho.
            
             studious
             in
             the
             Bible
             .
          
           
             
               TH'
               ignorant
               in
               this
               our
               curious
               Age
               ,
            
             
               Or
               little
               lesse
               ,
               some
               Asse
               of
               shallow
               reach
               ,
            
             
               Will
               seeme
               to
               prate
               in
               myst'ries
               deepe
               ,
               and
               sage
               ;
            
             
               The
               greatest
               Clearkes
               which
               vex
               ,
               that
               write
               ,
               or
               preach
            
             
               And
               if
               you
               tell
               him
               ,
               a
               doe
               this
               thou
               shalt
               liue
               ,
            
             
               'T
               is
               nought
               ,
               vnlesse
               vnto
               the
               depth
               you
               diue
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             23.
             
             Iesus
             College
             in
             Oxford
             ,
             speaking
             to
             King
             Iames.
             
          
           
             
               AL
               things
               ,
               a
               they
               say
               ,
               doe
               wish
               a
               perfect
               end
               ,
            
             
               I
               being
               vnperfect
               ,
               doe
               eke
               wish
               the
               same
               ,
            
             
             
               Thy
               Royall
               hand
               my
               ragged
               wals
               can
               mend
               ,
            
             
               And
               perfect
               that
               what
               Priscious
               e'ne
               began
               .
            
             
               An
               easier
               taske
               ,
               to
               ioine
               foure
               corner
               stones
            
             
               In
               me
               ,
               then
               lincke
               in
               one
               foure
               Nations
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             24.
             
             Mors
             ,
             Sceptra
             ligonibus
             equat
             .
             Alluding
             to
             the
             death
             of
             the
             most
             renowned
             
               H.
               Fredericke
            
             ,
             Prince
             of
             Wales
             .
          
           
             
               OFatall
               death
               ,
               can
               none
               escape
               thy
               Dart
               ?
            
             
               O
               gastly
               Ghost
               ,
               must
               all
               obey
               thy
               Hest
               ?
            
             
               Must
               Princes
               ,
               as
               the
               beggar
               feele
               thy
               smart
               ?
            
             
               Must
               great
               ones
               die
               ,
               sans
               mercy
               ,
               as
               the
               least
               ?
            
             
               Henry
               was
               yong
               ,
               therefore
               thou
               mightst
               him
               spare
               ;
            
             
               Henry
               was
               sage
               ,
               then
               shouldst
               his
               life
               prolong
               :
            
             
               Henry
               was
               war
               like
               touch
               him
               how
               could'st
               dare
               ?
            
             
               Henry
               was
               learned
               ,
               death
               thou
               hast
               vs
               wrong
               .
            
             
               Mauors
               farewell
               ,
               and
               learned
               Mercury
               ,
            
             
               Since
               Henry
               left
               too
               soone
               our
               company
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             25.
             
             To
             the
             most
             famous
             ,
             and
             Heroike
             Lady
             ,
             Mary
             ,
             L.
             Wroth.
             
          
           
             
               THy
               worthy
               husband
               Ladifies
               thee
               Wroth
               ,
            
             
               Pray
               be
               not
               so
               with
               my
               poore
               pen
               ,
               to
               place
            
             
               'Fore
               R
               the
               O
               ;
               then
               iustly
               Lady
               Worth
            
             
               I
               might
               thee
               stile
               ,
               worth
               what
               ?
               hie
               honours
               Grace
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             26.
             
             The
             a
             Canaries
             .
          
           
             
               THose
               Iles
               were
               wont
               to
               be
               cal'd
               fortunate
               ,
            
             
               Haue
               now
               their
               names
               Canaries
               ,
               for
               the
               Curres
            
             
               That
               breed
               therein
               (
               a
               Metamorphos'd
               state
               ,
            
             
               And
               strange
               )
               which
               thinks
               her
               blest
               for
               beastly
               Burres
               .
            
             
               But
               Brittaines
               Ile
               should
               certaine
               more
               be
               blest
               ,
            
             
               If
               with
               mad
               dogs
               she
               were
               the
               lesser
               prest
               ,
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             27.
             
             Goddesse
             Fortune
             .
          
           
             
               TH'
               vnfortunate
               denominates
               his
               name
            
             
               And
               fortunate
               also
               ,
               from
               fortune
               blind
               :
            
             
               In
               Polycrates
               ,
               and
               Vlysses
               fame
               ,
            
             
               Her
               constancy
               vnconstantly
               we
               finde
               .
            
             
               Th'
               one
               she
               euer
               cros'd
               by
               Sea
               and
               land
               ,
            
             
               Th'
               other
               blest
               with
               her
               vnblisfull
               hand
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             28.
             
             Hispana
             ,
             in
             Hispanos
             .
          
           
             
               HIspana
               I
               le
               ,
               has
               in
               't
               a
               wonder
               rare
               ,
            
             
               Which
               Serpents
               be
               without
               all
               poison
               strong
               ;
            
             
               And
               do
               not
               hurt
               (
               as
               a
               stories
               do
               declare
               )
            
             
               Th'
               Inhabitants
               ,
               which
               do
               dwell
               them
               among
               ;
            
             
               Which
               should
               teach
               those
               that
               conquer'd
               first
               the
               I
               le
               ,
            
             
               To
               shun
               to
               kill
               ,
               through
               veno●…'s
               poisned
               guile
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             29.
             
             On
             Terhernes
             Sepulture
             .
          
           
             
               TErherne
               thou
               li'est
               enterd
               within
               the
               graue
               ,
            
             
               Of
               a
               blind
               Monke
               ,
               in
               those
               daies
               compted
               wise
               ,
            
             
               And
               thou
               a
               foole
               ;
               a
               Sepulture
               most
               braue
               ,
            
             
               Which
               doth
               the
               idiot
               ,
               and
               the
               Sage
               comprise
               .
            
             
               Yet
               ,
               thou
               a
               foole
               to
               greater
               Blisse
               maist
               rise
               ,
            
             
               Then
               the
               blind
               Monke
               ,
               that
               was
               esteemed
               wise
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             30.
             
             On
             the
             feminine
             Supremacy
             .
          
           
             
               I
               Often
               heard
               ,
               but
               neuer
               read
               till
               now
               .
            
             
               That
               Women-kinde
               the
               Codpeeces
               did
               weare
               ;
            
             
               But
               in
               those
               Iles
               ,
               the
               men
               to
               women
               bow
               ,
            
             
               Which
               do
               their
               names
               of
               a
               male
               ,
               and
               female
               beare
               .
            
             
               I
               should
               therefore
               the
               woman
               iudge
               to
               be
            
             
               The
               vessell
               strongst
               ,
               but
               b
               Paul
               denies
               it
               me
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             31.
             
             To
             the
             right
             worshipfull
             and
             most
             courteous
             knight
             ,
             Sir
             
               Lewis
               Mansel
            
             ,
             of
             his
             he
             :
             a
             mariage
             ,
          
           
             
               THe
               Porcupine
               ,
               with
               launces
               sharpe
               ,
               and
               keene
               ,
            
             
               Doth
               now
               not
               seek
               to
               pearce
               the
               Fawchi'on
               faire
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               is
               the
               Fawchi'on
               'gainst
               the
               Griffon
               seene
            
             
             
               To
               ●…y
               ,
               but
               ioies
               as
               friends
               ,
               a
               Royall
               paire
               .
            
             
               What
               is
               the
               cause
               of
               this
               their
               league
               ?
               thy
               a
               loue
               ,
            
             
               Which
               doth
               the
               birds
               ,
               that
               's
               strange
               ,
               to
               vniō
               moue
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             32.
             
             On
             Cottulus
             the
             vnconstant
             Professor
             .
          
           
             
               VNconstant
               Cottulus
               ,
               which
               primly
               wast
               ,
            
             
               Preciscian
               like
               ,
               most
               curious
               of
               thy
               life
               :
            
             
               But
               thou
               that
               faction
               thou
               hast
               ouerpast
               ,
            
             
               And
               turn'd
               a
               Papist
               ,
               seeds
               man
               full
               of
               strife
               ,
            
             
               I
               wonder
               ,
               what
               thou
               thirdly
               wilt
               Professe
               ,
            
             
               Camelion-like
               ,
               a
               Newter
               ,
               as
               I
               gesse
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             33.
             
             To
             his
             Antiquious
             Academian
             friend
             Mr.
             
               William
               Ie.
            
             
          
           
             
               THe
               Swan
               ,
               they
               say
               ,
               doth
               sing
               before
               he
               die
               ;
            
             
               But
               thine
               ,
               I
               wis
               ,
               did
               mourne
               most
               dolefully
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             34.
             
             On
             the
             beloued
             Gossips
             ,
             Laena
             ,
             and
             Larga
             .
          
           
             
               Lae.
               
            
             
               VVHy
               wilt
               not
               Larga
               ,
               Marry
               Mr.
               Steere
               ?
            
             
               A
               p●…oper
               man
               ,
               &
               wise
               ,
               no
               Meacocks
               Gul
               :
            
          
           
             
               La
               :
            
             
               I
               tell
               thee
               why
               ,
               I
               hate
               a
               castred
               Pheere
               ,
            
             
               ●…nd
               rather
               chose
               my
               Suiter
               ,
               Maister
               Bull.
               
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             35.
             
             The
             Picture
             of
             a
             Paramour
             .
          
           
             
               MOst
               pretty
               Loue
               ,
               of
               all
               our
               Loues
               ,
               which
               louest
            
             
               Neuer
               to
               feed
               on
               one
               sole
               dainty
               dish
               ;
            
             
               But
               many
               more
               do'st
               taste
               ,
               and
               often
               pronest
               ,
            
             
               Through
               sweat
               of
               Body
               ,
               and
               a
               louely
               kisse
               .
            
             
               Thou
               euer
               lou'st
               variety
               of
               cares
               ,
            
             
               Which
               honest
               Vesta
               and
               Maechaon
               hates
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             36.
             
             To
             the
             gastly
             Ghoast
             of
             Terherne
             .
          
           
             
               SOme
               are
               ,
               which
               haue
               grow'n
               famous
               by
               their
               lore
               ,
            
             
               By
               dint
               of
               sword
               ,
               and
               eke
               by
               Prudencie
               ;
            
             
               But
               thou
               
                 (
                 Terherne
              
               )
               renowned
               wast
               of
               yore
               ,
            
             
               For
               a
               pure
               foole
               ,
               and
               nat'rall
               foolerie
               .
            
             
               But
               here
               's
               the
               difference
               'twixt
               your
               brinted
               fame
               ,
            
             
               Theirs
               ,
               for
               their
               wit
               ,
               and
               thine
               ,
               of
               folly
               ,
               came
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             37.
             
             Cord
             Franke.
             Of
             the
             Knights
             of
             St.
             Denis
             Bathe
             ,
          
           
             
               I
               Wonder
               why
               men
               did
               thee
               nominate
            
             
               Coed
               Franke
               ,
               in
               Antique
               Brittains
               copious
               Tongue
               ;
            
             
               Vnlesse
               thou
               got'st
               it
               through
               the
               French-mans
               fate
               ,
            
             
               The
               gallian
               griefe
               ,
               which
               blasted
               thee
               along
               .
            
             
             
               If
               it
               be
               so
               ,
               let
               fleshmen
               learne
               by
               thee
            
             
               To
               shun
               the
               Pox
               which
               burns
               the
               very
               tree
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             38.
             
             Of
             the
             lamentable
             Deaths
             ,
             of
             H.
             3.
             and
             H.
             4.
             the
             French
             kings
             ,
             murthered
             by
             a
             brase
             of
             Fryars
             .
          
           
             
               IF
               a
               Patriarches
               twaine
               ,
               in
               Holy
               Writ
               be
               nam'd
            
             
               b
               Brethren
               in
               euill
               for
               reuenging
               wrong
               ;
            
             
               Then
               may
               those
               Brase
               of
               Friars
               well
               be
               blam'd
               ,
            
             
               (
               Which
               burns
               sans
               Mercy
               ,
               'mongst
               the
               Hellish
               throng
               )
            
             
               For
               doubtlesse
               they
               were
               brethren
               in
               ill
               ,
            
             
               Which
               trat'rously
               France
               Royall
               blood
               did
               Spill
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             39.
             
             To
             his
             Sickly
             friend
             .
          
           
             
               STore
               is
               no
               sore
               ,
               the
               Prouerbe
               verifies
               ;
            
             
               Which
               thou
               find'st
               false
               ,
               in
               store
               of
               Malladies
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             40.
             
             To
             Reuerend
             vida
             ,
             the
             filching
             Preacher
             .
          
           
             
               GOds
               zeale
               ,
               (
               most
               zealous
               vida
               ,
               )
               Prelate
               graue
               ,
            
             
               Did
               eate
               thee
               vp
               ,
               while
               that
               the
               borrowed
               oyle
            
             
               Of
               others
               Lampes
               ,
               did
               furnish
               thee
               most
               braue
               ,
            
             
             
               With
               Budget
               Lore
               ,
               to
               keepe
               a
               Preaching
               coile
               .
            
             
               What
               meanes
               thy
               silence
               ?
               Sure
               the
               oile
               is
               out
               ,
            
             
               And
               being
               thrust
               from
               Movses
               chaire
               ,
               art
               Mute
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             41.
             
             To
             plaine
             Io.
             the
             versificator
             .
          
           
             
               VVHat
               kinde
               of
               Poem's
               thine
               ,
               I
               thee
               beseech
               ?
            
             
               No
               wittie
               one
               ,
               therefore
               a
               witlesse
               speech
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             42.
             
             To
             Battus
             ,
             the
             Cat●…chiser
             .
          
           
             
               MAgister
               Battus
               of
               the
               A.
               B
               C.
            
             
               I
               do
               commend
               thy
               conscience
               for
               to
               teach
            
             
               Thy
               Punies
               Raw
               ,
               without
               reward
               or
               fee
               ;
            
             
               Th'wilt
               serue
               to
               catechise
               ,
               but
               ill
               to
               preach
               .
            
             
               Whereas
               thou
               dost
               thy
               pupils
               teach
               for
               nought
               ,
            
             
               Right
               well
               thou
               maist
               ,
               thy
               Lore
               deseru's
               not
               ought
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             43.
             
             On
             Mistresse
             Wag-taile
             .
          
           
             
               THy
               gadding
               head
               ,
               my
               pretty
               Mysa
               sweet
               ,
            
             
               Did
               cause
               thy
               taile
               to
               be
               most
               wagging
               still
               ;
            
             
               Herein
               we
               see
               both
               head
               ,
               and
               taile
               do
               meet
            
             
               Thy
               lust
               ne're
               satiate
               seeking
               to
               fulfill
               .
            
             
               'T
               was
               not
               thy
               Head
               that
               did
               thy
               Taile
               enflame
               ,
            
             
               But
               t'
               was
               thy
               Taile
               ,
               that
               did
               thy
               Head
               defame
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             44.
             
             Lex
             Taliouis
             ,
             on
             Rot
             ,
             the
             Tyrant
             .
          
           
             
               PRoud
               cruell
               Rot
               ,
               which
               now
               dost
               rot
               in
               graue
               ,
            
             
               That
               e're
               wast
               wont
               to
               tread
               on
               poore
               mens
               necks
            
             
               And
               force
               the
               harmeles
               Gull
               to
               be
               a
               Slaue
               ,
            
             
               Vnto
               thy
               Threts
               ,
               and
               eke
               commanding
               checks
               .
            
             
               These
               all
               requite
               thee
               now
               with
               Talio's
               Law.
            
             
               And
               on
               thy
               Head
               doe
               trample
               without
               Awe
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig
             45.
             
             The
             Cacademons
             Epitaph
             .
          
           
             
               H●…ere
               Batcocke
               lies
               ,
               a
               Cocke
               too
               Bad
               by
               kinde
               ,
            
             
               Which
               euer
               wak't
               his
               Prentises
               to
               play
            
             
               At
               Cardes
               ,
               he
               had
               a
               zelous
               minde
               ,
            
             
               For
               them
               he
               bore
               insteed
               of
               Bookes
               to
               pray
               .
            
             
               Which
               being
               dead
               ,
               a
               paire
               of
               Cards
               was
               found
            
             
               Vnder
               his
               head
               ,
               to
               play
               with
               vnder
               ground
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             46.
             
             Socrates
             .
          
           
             
               THou
               Socrates
               the
               wisest
               Sage
               foretold
               ,
            
             
               That
               was
               on
               eath
               ,
               while
               that
               on
               earth
               thou
               breth'st
            
             
               Wast
               not
               so
               wise
               yet
               ,
               for
               to
               choose
               that
               Scold
               ,
            
             
               To
               be
               thy
               wife
               ;
               thou
               wisedome
               herein
               leau'st
               .
            
             
               Vnlesse
               it
               were
               thy
               patience
               ,
               for
               to
               trie
               ,
            
             
               If
               so
               ,
               our
               dayes
               yeelds
               thee
               many
               a
               fry
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             47.
             
             To
             his
             honest
             kinde
             friend
             Mr.
             
               Edw.
               Andrewes
            
             ,
             of
             the
             Epithit
             ,
             Honest.
             
          
           
             
               HOnest
               ,
               a
               word
               ,
               I
               sweare
               an
               Adiectiue
               ,
            
             
               For
               now
               a
               daies
               ,
               it
               little
               stands
               in
               steed
               :
            
             
               But
               he
               that
               to
               the
               Depth
               of
               Crafts
               can
               diue
               ,
            
             
               He
               is
               the
               Wiseman
               that
               doth
               now
               exceed
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             48.
             
             An
             Anothomie
             for
             Husbandrie
             .
          
           
             
               PAterne
               for
               Husbands
               ,
               Choake
               thou
               art
               of
               right
               ,
            
             
               Which
               dost
               not
               choake
               thy
               good
               seed
               with
               the
               Thornes
            
             
               Of
               worldly
               care
               to
               be
               a
               Miser
               hight
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               lands
               brings
               better
               fruit
               ,
               then
               wild
               Acornes
               .
            
             
               This
               shining
               candle
               of
               thy
               husbandrie
               ,
            
             
               Vnder
               a
               Bushell
               doth
               not
               hidden
               lie
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             49.
             
             To
             the
             worthie
             and
             famous
             Earle
             of
             Notingham
             ,
             high
             Admirall
             of
             England
             .
          
           
             
               GReat
               number
               doe
               on
               the
               firme
               land
               beare
               sway
               ,
            
             
               These
               thou
               excell'st
               ,
               thou
               mak'st
               the
               Sea
               obay
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             50.
             
             The
             Flushing
             fray
             .
             To
             his
             Couser
             ,
             Leiftenant
             
               Ie
               ,
               Watkins
            
             .
          
           
             
               THe
               Flemmings
               fight
               is
               reasonable
               ,
               yea
               ;
            
             
               Being
               a
               reasonlesse
               ,
               he
               'ill
               but
               or
               sticke
               ,
               or
               snee
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             51.
             
             Omnium
             rerum
             vicissitudo
             est
             .
             Master
             ,
             Messenger
             .
          
           
             
               Ma
               :
            
             
               VVHat
               's
               thy
               name
               ?
               Messenger
               ?
               for
               what
               I
               pray
               ?
            
          
           
             
               Me
               :
            
             
               T
               is
               Master
               kind
               ,
               for
               your
               deere
               loue
               ,
               I
               say
               .
            
          
           
             
               Ma
               :
            
             
               Tush
               ,
               I
               doe
               hate
               ,
               detest
               thy
               lawlesse
               bed
               ,
            
          
           
             
               Me
               :
            
             
               You
               may
               helpe
               that
               ,
               if
               you
               doe
               me
               but
               wed
               .
            
          
           
             
               Ma
               :
            
             
               Fie
               't
               is
               not
               fit
               for
               females
               for
               to
               sue
               ;
            
          
           
             
               Me.
               
            
             
               Tut
               ,
               let
               's
               conioine
               ,
               it
               is
               the
               fashion
               new
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             96.
             
             Amicus
             certus
             in
             re
             incerta
             cernitur
             .
             To
             trustie
             M.
             Gage
             .
          
           
             
               THou
               faithful
               Gage
               ,
               that
               wast
               a
               gage
               indeed
               .
            
             
               For
               loyaltie
               ,
               and
               eke
               for
               seruice
               true
               ,
            
             
               (
               Vnto
               that
               famous
               a
               Prince
               by
               God
               decreed
            
             
               To
               Quell
               the
               Pope
               ,
               Religion
               pure
               to
               shew
               )
            
             
             
               In
               her
               distresse
               ;
               which
               few
               of
               thin
               owne
               name
               ,
            
             
               To
               thy
               pure
               faith
               ,
               themselues
               doe
               wholly
               frame
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig
             53.
             
             To
             the
             faire
             fac'd
             Margaret
             .
          
           
             
               WHat
               odd's
               'twixt
               Margarit
               ,
               a
               precious
               pearle
               ,
            
             
               And
               Margaret
               ,
               a
               sweet
               and
               peerelesse
               Girle
               .
            
             
               No
               odd's
               I
               see
               ,
               for
               we
               must
               buy
               the
               one
               ,
            
             
               And
               Gratis
               thee
               ,
               I
               thinke
               possesse
               shall
               none
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             54.
             
             The
             voluble
             wheele
             of
             Fortune
             .
             To
             the
             interne
             friend
             Mounsier
             Hie
             ,
             and
             Mr.
             Low.
             
          
           
             
               Lo
               :
            
             
               THou
               clim'st
               the
               wheele
               of
               fortune
               Mounsier
               Hit
            
             
               And
               gap'st
               for
               glorie
               ,
               and
               preferment
               great
               ;
            
          
           
             
               Hie.
               
            
             
               True
               Mr.
               Low
               ,
               and
               thou
               as
               fast
               do'st
               flie
               ,
            
             
               And
               lowe
               descend'st
               from
               fortunes
               highest
               seat
            
             
               Despaire
               not
               yet
               if
               fortune
               ,
               a
               fortune
               be
               ,
            
             
               Shee
               may
               thy
               name
               appropriate
               vnto
               me
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             55.
             
             To
             the
             worthy
             Gent.
             Mr.
             
               Rawley
               Bussie
            
             ,
             in
             voluing
             the
             earthly
             Globe
             ,
             &
             tossing
             of
             the
             Tents
             ball
             ,
             most
             expert
             .
          
           
             
               THy
               solace
               is
               to
               volue
               the
               Orbicke
               ball
            
             
               Of
               this
               round
               earth
               ,
               and
               eke
               this
               Tenis
               Pile
               ;
            
             
             
               Th'
               one
               in
               sporting
               ,
               which
               we
               pastime
               call
               ,
            
             
               Th'
               other
               ,
               when
               thy
               fluent
               Muse
               do'st
               file
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             56.
             
             To
             Mistris
             Lightfoot
             .
          
           
             
               I
               Chaunc'd
               ,
               as
               once
               I
               trauail'd
               to
               o'retake
            
             
               One
               Mistris
               Quick
               ,
               being
               found'red
               ,
               making
               mone
               :
            
             
               I
               ask'd
               ,
               what
               did
               her
               pace
               so
               halting
               make
               ,
            
             
               I
               did
               my
               foot
               quoth
               she
               ,
               hurt
               'gainst
               a
               stone
               .
            
             
               T
               is
               nothing
               so
               ,
               said
               I
               ,
               kind
               Mistrisse
               Quicke
               ,
            
             
               Your
               griefe
               I
               take
               ,
               came
               rather
               of
               a
               pricke
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             57.
             
             Uincit
             qui
             patitur
             .
             To
             his
             lo
             fr.
             
               Rich.
               Gibons
            
             ,
             a
             Teacher
             .
          
           
             
               IF
               any
               wish
               his
               patience
               for
               to
               try
               ,
            
             
               Let
               him
               ,
               but
               practise
               sole
               thy
               Ministrie
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             58.
             
             To
             his
             fragile
             firtree
             staffe
             .
          
           
             
               THe
               Prouerbe
               se's
               ,
               t
               is
               better
               for
               to
               bow
            
             
               Then
               for
               to
               breake
               ,
               a
               note
               of
               gentlenesse
               ;
            
             
               But
               thou
               ,
               my
               prop
               ,
               dost
               scorne
               to
               stoope
               so
               lowe
            
             
               As
               bend
               ,
               a
               signe
               ,
               se'st
               thou
               of
               basefulnesse
               .
            
             
               But
               breake
               wi
               lt
               rather
               (
               my
               most
               brittle
               Tree
               )
            
             
               Yet
               doe
               not
               so
               ,
               I
               prethee
               ,
               vnder
               me
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             59.
             
             On
             Stephen
             ,
             the
             bloody
             Persecutor
             .
          
           
             
               GOod
               Gardiners
               doe
               vse
               for
               to
               supplant
            
             
               Their
               bad
               grow'n
               weeds
               ,
               their
               fruitfull
               hearbes
               to
               saue
               ;
            
             
               But
               Gard'ner
               thou
               the
               a
               flowre
               of
               Troynouant
               ,
            
             
               Did'st
               thinke
               to
               weed
               ,
               and
               burie
               in
               her
               graue
               .
            
             
               To
               heauens
               Reapers
               ,
               far
               vnlike
               wast
               thou
               ,
            
             
               To
               weed
               the
               wheat
               ,
               and
               let
               the
               a
               Euer
               grow
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             60.
             
             To
             the
             worthy
             Knight
             ,
             Sr
             
               Ro.
               Wroth
            
             ,
             of
             his
             house
             call'd
             Durnnce
             .
          
           
             
               THy
               Durance
               keeps
               in
               durance
               none
               ,
               I
               heare
               ,
            
             
               '
               Lesse
               be
               to
               pertake
               of
               thy
               a
               bounteous
               cheere
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             61.
             
             On
             our
             Popish
             fugitiues
             .
          
           
             
               THey
               say
               ,
               o'refasting
               doth
               procure
               a
               paine
               ,
            
             
               (
               Virtigo
               hight
               )
               the
               turning
               of
               the
               head
               :
            
             
               Which
               true
               we
               find
               in
               male
               contents
               most
               plaine
               ,
            
             
               When
               of
               preferments
               long
               they
               haue
               not
               sped
               .
            
             
               And
               a
               Arrius
               like
               ,
               which
               mist
               his
               Bishopprick
               ,
            
             
               Th'
               ill
               change
               their
               faith
               ,
               and
               shewe
               a
               Popish
               tricke
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             62.
             
             Mother
             B's
             Tranflation
             .
          
           
             
               GOode'n
               ,
               most
               antique
               ,
               zelous
               mother
               B
               ,
            
             
               This
               salutation
               well
               befits
               your
               age
               :
            
             
               For
               while
               you
               liue
               ,
               a
               vestall
               you
               decree
            
             
               To
               be
               ,
               and
               shun
               the
               toies
               of
               Pupillage
               .
            
             
               And
               as
               of
               old
               ,
               on
               Beds
               you
               lou'd
               to
               play
               :
            
             
               So
               now
               on
               Beades
               you
               wholy
               like
               to
               pray
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             63.
             
             *
             Licentia
             Poetica
             .
             To
             the
             carping
             Criticke
             .
          
           
             
               IVdge
               not
               so
               hard
               ,
               that
               Poēts
               still
               doe
               lie
               ,
            
             
               For
               what
               they
               write
               ,
               't
               is
               '
               llow'd
               by
               Libertie
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             64.
             
             On
             the
             Popes
             Holinesse
             .
          
           
             
               THe
               Romish
               Canons
               shamelesly
               auer
               ,
            
             
               Their
               holy
               Father
               ,
               God
               ,
               nor
               man
               to
               be
               ;
            
             
               What
               is
               he
               then
               ?
               if
               that
               ,
               I
               doe
               not
               erre
               ,
            
             
               H
               'is
               no
               Angell
               ,
               of
               heauens
               Hierarchie
               .
            
             
               Vnlesse
               be
               a
               Him
               ,
               that
               puts
               on
               euery
               Hue
            
             
               For
               to
               deceaue
               ,
               and
               this
               ,
               I
               thinke
               ,
               is
               true
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             65.
             
             To
             the
             Paracelfian
             Empricke
             .
          
           
             
               IF
               all
               the
               World
               were
               like
               to
               Socrates
               ,
            
             
               That
               neuer
               stood
               in
               need
               of
               Phsicks
               hand
               ;
            
             
               How
               then
               couldst
               liue
               ,
               if
               this
               thy
               art
               should
               cease
               ,
            
             
               Poore
               Iack
               ,
               in
               this
               ,
               or
               any
               other
               Land
               ?
            
             
               Wouldst
               thou
               thenbe
               a
               graue
               Sr.
               Iohn
               by
               skill
               ?
            
             
               So
               ,
               sure
               more
               soules
               ,
               then
               bodies
               wouldst
               thou
               kill
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             66.
             
             Of
             H.
             1
             King
             of
             England
             ,
             whose
             inuenomed
             braine
             ,
             being
             dead
             ,
             kill'd
             his
             owne
             Physitian
             .
          
           
             
               WHat
               men
               aliue
               ,
               being
               sick
               ,
               would
               oft
               fulfill
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               being
               a
               dead
               did'st
               thy
               Physitian
               kill
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             67.
             
             To
             Mr.
             Monoculus
             ,
             the
             Sagittarie
             .
          
           
             
               VVHat
               dire
               mishap
               befell
               you
               Mounsier
               Blinck
               ?
            
             
               That
               you
               haue
               lost
               your
               most
               respected
               eie
               :
            
             
               You
               tell
               me
               ,
               tush
               ,
               you
               shall
               the
               better
               winck
            
             
               To
               hit
               the
               marke
               ,
               and
               l●…t
               the
               arrow
               flie
               .
            
             
               I'
               st
               so
               ?
               your
               shot
               ●…I
               gesse
               ,
               will
               be
               farre
               wide
               ,
            
             
               When
               that
               you
               shut
               the
               other
               eie
               beside
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             68.
             
             To
             Zantippa
             the
             Scold
             .
          
           
             
               VVHat
               mary
               muffe
               ,
               what
               makes
               thee
               sweet
               of
               hew
            
             
               And
               sowre
               of
               speech
               ,
               most
               bitter
               ,
               waspish
               ,
               bad
               ?
            
             
               I
               thinke
               ,
               thon
               art
               a
               most
               detested
               shrew
               ;
            
             
               Or
               with
               the
               Ague
               ,
               or
               burnt
               feuer
               clad
               .
            
             
               Which
               euer
               fils
               thy
               tongue
               most
               full
               of
               Gawle
               ,
            
             
               To
               all
               distastfull
               ,
               but
               to
               ban
               ,
               and
               brawle
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             69.
             
             The
             Epitaph
             of
             his
             deerely
             beloued
             Schoolemaster
             ,
             Mr.
             W.
             Edwards
             .
          
           
             
               HEre
               lies
               the
               picture
               of
               pure
               honestie
               .
            
             
               Here
               lies
               ,
               the
               sire
               of
               many
               a
               learned
               Sonne
               ,
            
             
               Here
               lies
               ,
               the
               zeale
               of
               Christianitie
               ,
            
             
               Here
               lies
               ,
               the
               Patron
               of
               Religion
               .
            
             
               Here
               lies
               ,
               that
               man
               ,
               whose
               life
               was
               naught
               to
               none
               ,
            
             
               Here
               lies
               ,
               that
               friend
               ,
               whom
               yong
               and
               old
               bemone
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             70.
             
             To
             Rome
             ,
             with
             her
             Romish
             brood
             .
          
           
             
               PAule
               a
               saith
               ,
               a
               Bishop
               should
               a
               husband
               be
            
             
               Of
               one
               wife
               ,
               for
               to
               liue
               a
               sober
               life
               ;
            
             
               But
               the
               great
               Bishop
               ,
               of
               the
               high'st
               degree
               ,
            
             
               Will
               haue
               his
               Bishops
               for
               to
               haue
               no
               wife
               .
            
             
             
               I
               wonder
               how
               from
               all
               he
               cuts
               this
               band
               ?
            
             
               They'
               are
               either
               Eunuches
               ,
               or
               play
               vnder
               hand
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             71.
             
             To
             Gill
             :
             the
             fingring
             Lawyer
             ,
             and
             ambodexter
             .
          
           
             
               VVHat
               mak's
               thee
               ,
               Gill
               ,
               the
               perfect
               vse
               to
               haue
               ,
            
             
               As
               well
               of
               left
               ,
               as
               of
               thy
               right
               hand
               faire
               ?
            
             
               Thou
               Galen-like
               wilt
               answer
               very
               graue
               ,
            
             
               'T
               is
               o'remuch
               heat
               that
               doth
               from
               heart
               repaire
               .
            
             
               I
               thinke
               not
               so
               ,
               but
               thy
               poore
               Clients
               gold
            
             
               Mak's
               thee
               to
               be
               an
               Ambodexter
               bold
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             72.
             
             A
             new
             formo
             of
             finding
             out
             Petigrees
             To
             Don
             Stolidus
             .
          
           
             
               MY
               vpstart
               Gull
               ,
               that
               would'st
               right
               noble
               be
            
             
               In
               Royall
               blood
               (
               thy
               labour
               quite
               is
               vaine
            
             
               In
               voluing
               bookes
               of
               old
               Antiquitie
            
             
               For
               thy
               base
               line
               ,
               not
               worth
               thereof
               the
               paine
               )
            
             
               B'
               aduis'd
               by
               me
               ,
               ope
               thou
               an
               old
               made
               Graue
               ;
            
             
               There
               thou
               thy
               first
               Genologie
               shalt
               haue
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             73.
             
             Tom
             of
             Christ
             Church
             in
             Oxford
             .
             To
             our
             ceremonious
             Papists
             .
          
           
             
               THe
               clapping
               sound
               of
               Antichristian
               Bels
               ,
            
             
               They
               say
               ,
               expels
               from
               them
               their
               airie
               Ghosts
               :
            
             
             
               So
               ,
               Tom
               thy
               sound
               which
               all
               thy
               mates
               excels
               ,
            
             
               Doth
               thine
               Oxonians
               cause
               to
               flie
               their
               Hoasts
               .
            
             
               But
               if
               thy
               sound
               could
               sound
               as
               far
               as
               Spaine
               ,
            
             
               Their
               bodies
               Ghosts
               ,
               I
               thinke
               ,
               would
               them
               refraine
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             74.
             
             God
             ,
             and
             the
             Pope
             .
          
           
             
               THe
               sacred
               Scripture
               doth
               for
               truth
               record
               ,
               
            
             
               That
               God
               is
               only
               of
               the
               liuing
               God
               ,
            
             
               And
               of
               the
               dead
               ,
               he
               claimes
               to
               be
               no
               Lord
               ;
            
             
               But
               father
               Pope
               recalleth
               with
               a
               nod
            
             
               They
               say
               the
               dead
               ,
               from
               Purgatories
               griefe
               ;
            
             
               Th'
               are
               dead
               in
               sinne
               ,
               that
               makes
               this
               their
               beleefe
               ,
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             75.
             
             To
             glorious
             Mopsa
             ,
             of
             her
             stolen
             feathers
             .
          
           
             
               WHy
               Mistris
               Noll
               ,
               dost
               thou
               Adulterate
            
             
               (
               From
               others
               Royall
               lines
               ,
               thy selfe
               to
               grace
               )
            
             
               Their
               noble
               birth
               ,
               and
               titles
               high
               of
               state
               ?
            
             
               That
               wast
               at
               first
               but
               poore
               ,
               obscure
               and
               base
               .
            
             
               If
               each
               should
               pluck
               from
               thy
               patch't
               Pedegree
            
             
               His
               feathers
               of
               ,
               right
               Aesops
               Iay
               might'st
               be
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             76.
             
             On
             Cornutus
             ,
             the
             Monster
             .
             To
             his
             lo
             :
             friend
             
               Wil
               :
               Arne
            
             .
          
           
             
               OF
               all
               wilde
               Birds
               ,
               I
               loth
               the
               monstrous
               Batte
               ,
            
             
               Which
               is
               a
               bird
               ,
               and
               eke
               a
               filthy
               beast
               ;
            
             
               But
               of
               tame
               birds
               ,
               I
               do
               most
               deadly
               hate
               ,
            
             
               That
               's
               man
               in
               shape
               ,
               yet
               hath
               a
               Beast-like
               creast
               .
            
             
               Which
               of
               these
               Monsters
               do'st
               abhorre
               the
               more
               ?
            
             
               I
               thinke
               the
               tame
               ,
               that
               with
               his
               Hornes
               doth
               Gore
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             77.
             
             To
             Boorish
             Petita
             .
          
           
             
               THe
               Latine
               a
               prouerbe
               doth
               for
               truth
               relate
               ,
            
             
               That
               eu'ry
               land
               doth
               Arts
               diuine
               embrace
               :
            
             
               Which
               euery
               where
               most
               true
               ,
               I
               estimate
               ,
            
             
               But
               in
               Petita
               ,
               'mongst
               that
               Rusticke
               Race
               .
            
             
               Which
               studies
               nought
               ,
               but
               most
               the
               crooked
               Law
               ;
            
             
               And
               will
               effect
               no
               goodnesse
               ,
               but
               for
               Aw
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig
             78.
             
             To
             his
             Cosin
             ,
             Lieftenant
             
               William
               Watkins
            
             ,
             of
             Flushings
             Scituation
             .
          
           
             
               VVHere
               Flushing
               stands
               ,
               the
               walkers
               Ile
               ,
               t'
               was
               wel
            
             
               So
               nem'd
               for
               in
               't
               walkes
               many
               a
               Sentinell
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             79.
             
             On
             
               Nic
               :
               Herberts
            
             Posie
             ,
             (
             I
             le
             y
             Kymero
             .
             To
             his
             worthy
             Son
             
               Mr.
               Will
               :
               Herbert
            
             .
          
           
             
               Thy
               
                 (
                 I
                 le
                 y
                 Kymero
              
               )
               did
               well
               Sympathize
               ,
            
             
               (
               Right
               worthy
               Nich'las
               )
               with
               thy
               noble
               minde
               :
            
             
               For
               where
               thou
               took'st
               ,
               thou
               didst
               not
               temporize
               ,
            
             
               But
               all
               thy
               friends
               did
               a
               sure
               Friend
               thee
               find
               .
            
             
               Thou
               wast
               not
               like
               the
               glosers
               of
               our
               Age
               ,
            
             
               Which
               disagree
               most
               from
               their
               Posies
               Sage
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             80.
             
             To
             the
             right
             Reuerend
             Father
             ,
             
               Io
               :
               Kinge
            
             ,
             Bishop
             of
             London
             ,
             a
             most
             perswasiue
             Preacher
             .
          
           
             
               VVHat
               tho
               thy
               hand
               doth
               not
               the
               Scepter
               sway
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               tongue
               doth
               cause
               full
               many
               to
               obey
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             81.
             
             Tobaccho
             .
             To
             his
             respectiue
             good
             friend
             
               Mr.
               M
               Cradocke
            
             .
          
           
             
               THe
               maior
               part
               of
               our
               Tobacchonists
               ,
            
             
               Tak
               's
               sole
               the
               shaddow
               of
               this
               smoakie
               weed
               :
            
             
               But
               thou
               hereof
               contrary
               often
               whift's
            
             
               The
               substance
               all
               of
               this
               prodigious
               Reed
               .
            
             
             
               I
               grant
               the
               substance
               doth
               the
               shaddow
               pafse
            
             
               In
               all
               besides
               ;
               saue
               in
               this
               Indian
               Grasse
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             82.
             
             A
             paire
             Royall
             of
             Clerkes
             .
             To
             his
             frtend
             
               Tho
               :
               Prichard
            
             .
          
           
             
               THree
               sorts
               there
               be
               ,
               which
               Clerks
               be
               call'd
               by
               nam●…
            
             
               The
               first
               of
               right
               is
               the
               superlatiue
               ,
            
             
               The
               Bible
               Clerke
               ,
               that
               doth
               expound
               the
               same
               ;
            
             
               The
               next
               in
               Rancke
               is
               the
               Comparatiue
               ,
            
             
               The
               Pen
               and
               Inkhorne
               Clerke
               ;
               that
               bandeth
               men
               ;
            
             
               The
               third
               ,
               the
               positiue
               ,
               that
               cries
               ,
               Amen
               .
            
             
               But
               prowd
               comparisons
               were
               odious
               farre
               ,
            
             
               'Twixt
               these
               same
               Clerkes
               ,
               for
               their
               Scholaritie
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               my
               braue
               Scribe
               will
               make
               no
               bones
               to
               iarre
               ,
            
             
               Yea
               with
               the
               best
               ,
               in
               case
               of
               felonie
               .
            
             
               But
               poore
               Ding-dong
               will
               not
               offend
               his
               sire
               ,
            
             
               For
               feare
               to
               loose
               his
               small
               collected
               hire
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             83.
             
             Of
             the
             Ambitious
             .
             To
             his
             cosen
             
               Io
               :
               Vaughan
            
             of
             his
             fall
             from
             a
             Wor●…eshead
             .
          
           
             
               SOme
               fall
               ,
               whose
               falling
               doth
               their
               Deaths
               procure
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               fall
               was
               great
               yet
               doth
               thy
               life
               remaine
               ;
            
             
               The
               ods
               is
               ,
               they
               themselues
               to
               climbe
               inure
               ,
            
             
               And
               sithence
               ,
               thou
               from
               climing
               do'st
               refraine
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             84.
             
             To
             Sir
             Humfrey
             the
             Recorder
             .
          
           
             
               THou
               Humfrey
               ke'pst
               a
               calender
               most
               streight
            
             
               Of
               others
               faulrs
               ,
               by
               Word
               ,
               or
               Deed
               ,
               ere
               sure
               ;
            
             
               But
               neere
               I
               thinke
               ,
               most
               hatefull
               ,
               carelesse
               weight
               ,
            
             
               Kep'st
               true
               accompt
               of
               thine
               owne
               Crimes
               vnpure
               .
            
             
               I
               deeme
               thou
               could'st
               not
               ,
               cause
               they
               did
               surmount
            
             
               The'others
               slips
               ,
               which
               thou
               so
               nigh
               didst
               count
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             85.
             
             To
             Morus
             ,
             the
             Baldepate
             .
          
           
             
               GOod
               Mr.
               More
               ,
               what
               made
               your
               pate
               be
               bawle
               ?
            
             
               You
               say
               ,
               you
               were
               borne
               vnder
               Venus
               starre
               ,
            
             
               Whose
               Constellation
               made
               your
               haire
               to
               fall
               ,
            
             
               And
               eke
               the
               credit
               of
               your
               crowne
               to
               marre
               .
            
             
               But
               ,
               as
               I
               cast
               ,
               of
               this
               your
               great
               mishap
               ,
            
             
               You
               lull'd
               were
               rather
               vpon
               Venus
               lap
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             86
             Cupid
             the
             blind
             God.
             To
             his
             lo
             :
             friend
             Mr.
             
               William
               Williams
            
             .
          
           
             
               WHy
               is
               't
               that
               Poets
               stile
               the
               but
               a
               boy
               ?
            
             
               Since
               that
               thou
               art
               a
               thousand
               yeares
               of
               age
               ;
            
             
               No
               maruaile
               ,
               for
               thy
               a
               dotage
               loue
               ,
               thy
               ●…oy
               ,
            
             
               With
               childish
               youth
               doth
               euen
               equipage
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             87.
             
             To
             Caecus
             ,
             the
             painefull
             Preacher
             ,
             of
             our
             Dumbe
             Dogges
             .
          
           
             
               THou
               seest
               not
               yet
               makest
               other
               see
            
             
               Their
               hainous
               sinnes
               ,
               through
               thy
               laborious
               paine
               :
            
             
               When
               Linx-ei'd
               Drones
               ,
               which
               euer
               idle
               be
               ,
            
             
               With
               taking
               paines
               doe
               neuer
               one
               soule
               gaine
               .
            
             
               Thy
               sight
               ,
               their
               liuings
               eke
               ,
               I
               wish
               to
               thee
               ,
            
             
               So
               that
               thou
               wouldest
               then
               not
               idle
               be
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             88.
             
             To
             his
             louing
             friend
             
               Io
               :
               Spencer
            
             ,
             skilfull
             in
             Arith
             meticke
             ,
             of
             Mounsier
             Mutilus
             .
          
           
             
               THy
               numbring
               art
               the
               plurall
               number
               loues
               ,
            
             
               And
               doth
               casheere
               the
               singular
               ,
               as
               none
               :
            
             
               But
               Mutilus
               ,
               Grammarian-like
               stout
               proues
            
             
               The
               singular
               ;
               as
               Lapis
               ,
               his
               sole
               stone
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             89.
             
             On
             bibbing
             Belgieus
             .
             To
             his
             cosin
             
               Io
               :
               Watkins
            
             Ensigne
             bearer
             .
          
           
             
               FLemmingo
               vseth
               after
               euery
               whiffe
               ,
            
             
               His
               kinde
               Comrade
               to
               take
               fast
               by
               the
               hand
               :
            
             
               He
               se's
               ,
               it
               is
               to
               shew
               his
               kindnesse
               rife
               ,
            
             
               But
               't
               is
               ,
               I
               gesse
               ,
               because
               he
               cannot
               stand
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             90.
             
             On
             Del
             Lucifer
             .
             To
             his
             friend
             Mr.
             Edw.
             Robinson
             ,
             Cler.
             
          
           
             
               What
               though
               Superbus
               from
               the
               Dunghill
               crept
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               holy
               function
               scornes
               with
               open
               throat
               :
            
             
               Yet
               be
               content
               ,
               forgiue
               and
               eke
               forget
               ,
            
             
               Sith
               Christ
               himselfe
               did
               dignifie
               thy
               coat
               .
            
             
               Yet
               suffer
               Cinicke
               ,
               when
               that
               he
               is
               dead
               ,
            
             
               To
               Hearse
               him
               ,
               where
               the
               Cuckoe
               first
               was
               bred
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             8.
             
             The
             Imparatiue
             Moode
             .
             To
             my
             Lady
             Myso
             .
          
           
             
               I
               Wonder
               greatly
               what
               thy
               Mood
               should
               be
               ,
            
             
               Indicatiue
               ?
               no
               ,
               that
               doth
               reason
               shew
               ,
            
             
               But
               thine
               is
               madd
               ;
               nor
               Subiunctiue
               I
               see
               ,
            
             
               That
               should
               depend
               sole
               on
               thy
               husband
               true
               .
            
             
               But
               thine
               ,
               sans
               doubt
               ,
               is
               the
               Imparatiue
               ,
            
             
               Which
               makes
               thee
               dayly
               with
               thy
               Mate
               to
               striue
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig
             92.
             
             To
             the
             ingenious
             Poet
             ,
             
               Mr.
               William
               Herbert
            
             of
             his
             booke
             intituled
             the
             Prophesie
             of
             Cadwalader
             .
          
           
             
               THy
               Royall
               Prophesie
               doth
               blaze
               thy
               name
               .
            
             
               So
               Poets
               must
               ,
               if
               they
               will
               merit
               fame
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             93.
             
             To
             the
             snarling
             censurer
             .
          
           
             
               REader
               ,
               perhaps
               thou
               wilt
               my
               Muse
               dispraise
            
             
               Of
               Barrennesse
               ,
               which
               was
               a
               curse
               of
               yore
               ;
            
             
               It
               is
               not
               so
               ,
               note
               thou
               her
               fathers
               daies
               ,
            
             
               A
               yongling
               ,
               able
               to
               beget
               yet
               more
               .
            
             
               If
               idle
               ,
               vaine
               ,
               thou
               deeme
               it
               ,
               and
               vnfit
               :
            
             
               An
               idle
               vaine
               becomes
               a
               childish
               wit.
               
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             94.
             
             On
             Moneanus
             ,
             the
             Bibber
             .
             To
             his
             louing
             friend
             Mr.
             
               William
               Thomas
            
             .
          
           
             
               THy
               Nectar
               ,
               Quondam
               ,
               was
               but
               whiggin
               small
               ,
            
             
               Alias
               sowrew
               hay
               ,
               how
               is
               't
               that
               nought
               but
               wine
            
             
               Thy
               slippery
               palate
               now
               doth
               taste
               at
               all
               ?
            
             
               That
               ne're
               was
               Prest
               in
               Bo●…eas
               freezing
               clime
               .
            
             
               No
               maruaile
               ,
               for
               thy
               body
               is
               so
               bet
            
             
               With
               cold
               ,
               which
               thou
               dost
               seeke
               with
               Ale
               to
               Heat
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             95.
             
             On
             
               Simon
               Magus
            
             ,
             Roman
             ,
             To
             his
             lo.
             fr.
             and
             familiar
             ,
             M.
             
               I.
               Vaughan
            
          
           
             
               GOd
               gratis
               giues
               his
               Grace
               most
               liberally
               ,
            
             
               But
               man
               will
               not
               without
               a
               Simons
               fee.
            
             
               Which
               was
               the
               cause
               ,
               as
               farre
               as
               I
               perceaue
               ,
            
             
               T●…at
               caused
               thee
               sweet
               Oxford
               for
               to
               leaue
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             96.
             
             On
             Luke-warme
             loue
             .
             To
             his
             lo.
             and
             approued
             good
             Cousen
             Mr.
             
               Edw
               Gamage
            
             .
          
           
             
               LOue
               now
               adaies
               is
               neither
               hot
               ,
               nor
               cold
               ,
            
             
               Th'wilt
               aske
               me
               then
               ,
               what
               i'
               st
               ?
               I
               say
               luke-warme
               ;
            
             
               Why
               then
               't
               is
               Bet
               ,
               thou
               se'st
               ,
               then
               that
               of
               old
               ,
            
             
               O
               ,
               no
               ,
               this
               warme
               has
               in
               't
               the
               greater
               harme
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             97.
             
             Tempus
             edax
             rerum
             ,
             To
             the
             learned
             Historian
             ,
             his
             lo.
             friend
             ,
             Mr.
             
               W.
               Meyricke
            
             .
          
           
             
               TIme
               doth
               in
               time
               they
               say
               ,
               all
               things
               devoure
               ,
            
             
               And
               eke
               forgets
               each
               learned
               Mercurie
               ,
            
             
               Saue
               the
               Historian
               ,
               only
               times
               fresh
               flowré
               ,
            
             
               Which
               neuer
               fad's
               ,
               much
               lesse
               doth
               euer
               die
               .
            
             
               For
               't
               cannot
               be
               that
               time
               can
               blot
               his
               name
               ,
            
             
               Which
               doth
               of
               time
               Records
               most
               antique
               frame
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             98.
             
             On
             Iudeas
             the
             Vsurer
             .
             To
             his
             louing
             Cosen
             Iohn
             Stradling
             .
          
           
             
               WHat
               makes
               that
               Beggars
               in
               thy
               neighbourhood
               ,
            
             
               Poore
               silly
               wtetches
               ,
               numberlesse
               to
               swarme
               ?
            
             
               T
               is
               not
               I
               weene
               ,
               for
               thy
               deuotion
               good
               ;
            
             
             
               But
               rather
               't
               is
               for
               thy
               purlonging
               harme
               .
            
             
               Which
               suffer'st
               uone
               to
               thriue
               that
               liues
               at
               hand
               ;
            
             
               But
               begger'st
               all
               ,
               by
               purchasing
               their
               land
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             99.
             
             To
             the
             Readers
             of
             his
             Epigrams
             .
          
           
             
               IN
               the
               Popes
               tongue
               I
               list
               not
               to
               endite
               :
            
             
               Cause
               of
               my
               time
               all
               men
               should
               haue
               the
               sight
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             100.
             
             To
             the
             Printer
             ,
             of
             Detractors
             .
          
           
             
               THe
               Captaine
               presse
               the
               Souldier
               to
               repell
            
             
               The
               furious
               force
               of
               foemens
               cruell
               hand
               :
            
             
               So
               do'st
               thou
               Presse
               some
               papers
               ,
               that
               excell
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               must
               they
               cankred
               tongues
               of
               men
               withstand
               .
            
             
               A
               wonder
               t'
               is
               ,
               the
               tongue
               for
               the
               hand
               ,
               right
            
             
               Should
               warre
               ;
               no
               force
               ,
               t'
               is
               but
               a
               womans
               fight
               .
            
          
           
             The
             end
             of
             the
             second
             Centurie
             .
          
        
         
           Patere
           aut
           Abstine
           .
        
      
       
         
         
           
             Disce
             aut
             Discede
             .
             W.
             G.
          
           FORLORNE
           HOPE
           ,
           SAYling
           ,
           and
           Salling
           forth
           ,
           vnder
           the
           duskie
           Colours
           of
           the
           enuious
           vniuerse
           .
        
         
           
             Epig.
             1.
             
          
           
             
               MArch
               forward
               ,
               Muse
               thy
               Patronesse
               is
               great
               ,
            
             
               And
               if
               she
               proue
               as
               good
               ,
               I
               feare
               no
               ill
               .
            
             
               But
               spac'ious
               fields
               has
               Ta●…es
               as
               well
               as
               wheat
               ,
            
             
               Besides
               the
               Dolphin
               ,
               Sea
               has
               Crocodill
               .
            
             
               If
               one
               Mecaene
               yet
               ,
               vnder
               Heauens
               Cope
            
             
               Thou
               find'st
               ;
               th'
               art
               not
               a
               quite
               forlorne
               hope
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             2.
             
             On
             Tricongius
             ,
             who
             was
             made
             by
             Consull
             Tyberius
             Caesar
             ,
             only
             for
             his
             Drinking
             .
          
           
             
               IF
               that
               our
               Bibbers
               now
               a
               daies
               ,
               should
               haue
            
             
               As
               large
               a
               Guerdon
               ,
               as
               thou
               hadst
               of
               yore
               ;
            
             
               I
               thinke
               we
               should
               ,
               of
               euery
               Tankard
               slaue
               ,
            
             
               Great
               Magistrats
               ,
               then
               priuat
               men
               ,
               haue
               more
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             3.
             
             On
             conscionable
             Surdaster
             .
          
           
             
               THouse'st
               ,
               that
               all
               thy
               hearing
               thou
               hast
               lost
               ,
            
             
               That
               's
               true
               ;
               withall
               ,
               I
               thinke
               ,
               thy
               feeling
               too
               ;
            
             
             
               How
               then
               canst
               liue
               ?
               fo●…
               this
               maintaineth
               most
            
             
               Within
               vs
               life
               ,
               as
               often
               reade
               we
               doe
               ;
            
             
               And
               yet
               thou
               liu'st
               tho
               quite
               without
               remorse
               ,
            
             
               So
               ,
               many
               doe
               ,
               to
               sin
               that
               nothing
               force
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             4.
             
             On
             Lollus
             loftie
             Tombe
             .
          
           
             
               WHat
               made
               thee
               build
               thy
               statue
               eu'n'so
               hie
               ?
            
             
               Whereas
               thy
               stature
               low
               on
               ground
               did
               lie
               ?
            
             
               This
               was
               to
               grace
               a
               stupid
               ,
               liuelesse
               stone
            
             
               More
               then
               thy selfe
               ;
               t'
               was
               well
               ,
               for
               thou
               hadst
               none
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             5.
             
             On
             Cherillus
             the
             Poet.
             
          
           
             
               PAn
               is
               not
               dead
               ,
               since
               Pas
               began
               to
               sing
               .
            
             
               Who
               all
               excels
               in
               consorts
               iarring
               string
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig
             6.
             
             To
             his
             louing
             ,
             and
             beloued
             Cosen
             ,
             M.
             
               I.
               Pralph
            
             Cler.
             of
             the
             Sager
             ,
             a
             Hill
             scituated
             in
             parish
             ,
             apud
             Heref.
             
          
           
             
               MOses
               ,
               before
               the
               heauenly
               Canan
               saw
               ,
            
             
               Did
               first
               ascend
               the
               top
               of
               a
               Nebo's
               Mount
               ;
            
             
               Where
               from
               he
               might
               a
               viue
               description
               draw
            
             
               Of
               ●…hly
               Canan
               ,
               the
               first
               's
               Type
               in
               compte
               .
            
             
             
               So
               maist
               thou
               climbe
               to
               Sagers
               loftie
               Hill
               ,
            
             
               And
               Canan
               vew
               as
               t'
               were
               ,
               a
               pleasant
               plaine
               ;
            
             
               To
               meditate
               of
               heau'nly
               Canan
               t'
               will
            
             
               Thee
               instigate
               assured
               ,
               as
               I
               faine
               .
            
             
               Vse
               to
               ascend
               this
               hill
               most
               pleasant
               ,
               hie
               :
            
             
               So
               ,
               Heauen
               on
               earth
               thou
               mai'st
               see
               ,
               ye●…
               thou
               die
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             7.
             
             Nusquamtuta
             fides
             .
             To
             Firmus
             ,
             The
             Camelion
             .
          
           
             
               I
               Wonder
               ,
               Firmus
               ,
               why
               thy
               faith
               is
               fraile
            
             
               To
               some
               ?
               whose
               name
               approues
               a
               constancie
               ;
            
             
               T
               is
               certs
               ,
               because
               they
               be
               not
               head
               ,
               and
               taile
            
             
               Thine
               ;
               both
               in
               falsehood
               ,
               as
               in
               veritie
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             8.
             
             To
             the
             Holy
             Well
             ,
             on
             Mawverne
             Hill.
             
          
           
             
               WE
               often
               read
               that
               Myracles
               haue
               ceast
               ,
            
             
               Which
               otherwise
               seemes
               by
               thy
               golden
               fame
               ,
            
             
               (
               Blaz'd
               farre
               and
               wide
               :
               almost
               to
               East
               and
               West
               )
            
             
               Which
               curest
               all
               ,
               the
               vlc'rous
               ,
               blind
               ,
               and
               lame
               .
            
             
               These
               myracles
               ,
               God
               grant
               ,
               they
               be
               not
               Mould
            
             
               In
               the
               Popes
               forge
               ;
               as
               Counterfeits
               of
               old
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             9.
             
             To
             Mr.
             Heauen
             of
             Heauen
             ,
             in
             the
             Countie
             of
             Heref.
             
          
           
             
               THou
               happie
               seem'st
               ,
               two
               Heauens
               which
               possest
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               dwelling
               one
               ,
               the
               other
               is
               thy
               name
               ;
            
             
               Striue
               to
               enjoy
               ,
               (
               and
               sure
               thou
               shalt
               be
               blest
               )
            
             
               The
               third
               ,
               which
               was
               that
               a
               Saints
               ,
               of
               greatest
               fame
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             10.
             
             To
             the
             Ministers
             of
             Gods
             Word
             .
          
           
             
               THis
               *
               phrase
               you
               vse
               for
               your
               small
               Tithes
               by
               rat●…
               :
            
             
               And
               for
               your
               greater
               too
               ,
               you
               may
               vse
               that
               ,
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig
             11.
             
             On
             Cressa's
             feminine
             flatterie
             .
          
           
             
               PErfidious
               wretch
               what
               made
               thee
               cracke
               thy
               faith
               ?
            
             
               Which
               once
               thou
               vow'st
               for
               to
               obserue
               and
               keepe
               :
            
             
               But
               that
               is
               true
               ,
               which
               the
               old
               Prouerbe
               saith
               ,
            
             
               Beware
               a
               woman
               when
               she
               gin's
               to
               weepe
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             12.
             
             On
             a
             Bariefus
             ,
             the
             Magician
             ,
             and
             his
             Sectaries
          
           
             
               THy
               hatefull
               name
               agrees
               with
               thy
               black
               art
               ;
            
             
               Who
               v●…'s
               it
               ,
               bar●…'s
               quite
               Iesus
               from
               his
               hart
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             13.
             
             On
             the
             whore
             in
             Graine
             ,
             Helen
             of
             Greece
             .
          
           
             
               ONe
               staine
               ,
               we
               read
               ,
               did
               staine
               thy
               sunnie
               face
               ;
            
             
               But
               thy
               stain'd
               life
               ,
               thy
               corps
               did
               more
               disgrace
               .
            
             
               This
               one
               spot
               did
               not
               more
               ,
               thy
               sweet
               face
               marre
               ,
            
             
               Then
               thy
               lust
               Ilion
               did
               ;
               in
               Troian
               warre
               .
            
             
               Thinke
               not
               therefore
               it
               shame
               to
               haue
               a
               staine
               :
            
             
               But
               count
               it
               shame
               ,
               to
               be
               a
               whore
               in
               Graine
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             14.
             
             To
             his
             lo.
             fr.
             M.
             
               W.
               Galloway
            
             ,
             an
             Irish
             Gent.
             a
             student
             at
             Grayes
             Inne
             ,
             of
             his
             fortunate
             escape
             of
             shipwracke
             at
             Gorwer'sland
             .
          
           
             
               THe
               drowning
               waters
               ,
               and
               the
               burning
               fire
               ,
            
             
               Are
               elements
               ,
               sans
               mercy
               ,
               as
               we
               say
               ;
            
             
               Whose
               foamers
               fo●…ing
               rage
               ,
               thou
               didst
               admire
               ,
            
             
               When
               shipwrack
               thou
               sustaind'st
               in
               a
               Sillies
               Bay
               :
            
             
               Yet
               mercifull
               was
               Neptunes
               God
               to
               thee
               ,
            
             
               Which
               Selde
               is
               cruell
               to
               Scholaritie
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             15.
             
             Blind
             affections
             picture
             .
             To
             Dunce
             the
             Pesaunt
             .
          
           
             
               WHat
               mak's
               thee
               ,
               Dance
               ,
               Dick
               Truncus
               to
               commend
               ?
            
             
               Of
               no
               Deserts
               a
               Boore
               ,
               a
               Corridon
               ;
            
             
             
               Thou
               saist
               ,
               because
               he
               is
               thy
               worships
               friend
               ,
            
             
               And
               ,
               whom
               the
               current
               of
               thy
               loue
               runnes
               on
               .
            
             
               But
               wherefore
               do'st
               
                 Nick
                 L●…s
              
               .
               so
               dispraise
               ?
            
             
               A
               Gentleman
               of
               fashion
               ,
               and
               of
               sort
               .
            
             
               Forsooth
               ,
               thou
               sai'st
               ,
               thou
               canst
               not
               brooke
               his
               way
            
             
               His
               comely
               carriage
               ,
               or
               his
               seemely
               port
               .
            
             
               See
               then
               affection
               ,
               whether
               good
               or
               ill
               :
            
             
               Laud's
               or
               defames
               according
               to
               his
               will.
               
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             16
             The
             Epitaph
             of
             Sir
             
               Will
               :
               Herbert
            
             of
             Swansey
             .
             To
             his
             right
             H●…
             :
             brother
             Sir
             
               Iohn
               Herbert
            
             second
             Secretary
             of
             State.
             
          
           
             
               IF
               home-bred
               knowledge
               ,
               or
               yet
               foreigne
               skill
               ,
            
             
               If
               sundry
               tongues
               ,
               or
               Physickes
               Princely
               art
               ,
            
             
               If
               noble
               carriage
               ,
               eloquence
               at
               will
               ,
            
             
               Could
               thee
               haue
               kept
               from
               Deaths
               pale-Ebone
               dart
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               yet
               hast
               liu'd
               ,
               a
               glory
               to
               thy
               name
               ,
            
             
               The
               poore
               mans
               prop
               ,
               and
               eke
               thy
               countries
               fame
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             17.
             
             To
             our
             wise
             Brittish
             Barde
             ,
             Mr.
             
               W.
               Mathew
            
             ,
             Esquire
             ;
             for
             wit
             ,
             and
             iudgement
             excellent
             .
          
           
             
               I
               Wote
               not
               which
               thy
               outward
               sense
               ,
               thy
               eare
               ,
            
             
               Or
               inward
               els
               ,
               thy
               braine
               ,
               doth
               most
               excell
               ;
            
             
             
               For
               ,
               as
               we
               say
               ,
               the
               former
               is
               the
               chaire
            
             
               Of
               Iudgement
               ,
               the
               other
               is
               inventions
               cell
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               braine
               ,
               doth
               thine
               owne
               litterature
               invent
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               eare
               ,
               on
               others
               labours
               ,
               doth
               comment
               .
            
             
               Which
               most
               excell's
               I
               cannot
               well
               impart
               ,
            
             
               But
               leaue
               it
               thee
               ,
               the
               fi●…'st
               for
               Logick's
               Art.
               
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             18.
             
             To
             his
             louing
             Cosin
             
               H.
               Price
            
             ,
             of
             Neptunes
             Purgation
             .
          
           
             
               IF
               thou
               art
               sicke
               ,
               and
               wouldst
               a
               vomit
               take
               ;
            
             
               If
               thou
               art
               well
               ,
               and
               willing
               wouldst
               be
               sicke
               .
            
             
               The
               Sea
               for
               both
               will
               thee
               a
               med'cine
               make
               ,
            
             
               Killing
               the
               whole
               ,
               the
               dead
               reuiuing
               quicke
               .
            
             
               This
               brackish
               purge
               excells
               farre
               Hellobore
               ,
            
             
               For
               nought
               ,
               besides
               perbraking
               ,
               pai'st
               therefore
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             19
             The
             Papists
             ,
             and
             Anabapstis
             Sympathized
             .
          
           
             
               THrough
               Imitation
               ,
               the
               Anabaptists
               say
            
             
               Their
               sinnes
               proceed
               ,
               from
               their
               forefathers
               old
               ▪
            
             
               The
               Papists
               eke
               their
               sinfull
               fect
               obey
               :
            
             
               Because
               their
               Sires
               were
               hattcht
               in
               the
               same
               fold
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             20.
             
             To
             his
             old
             friend
             and
             Schoolefellow
             ,
             Mr.
             
               D.
               Ienkins
            
             ,
             a
             worthy
             Barrister
             in
             the
             Lawes
             .
          
           
             
               OVr
               famous
               Ploydon
               we
               as
               yet
               Embrace
               ,
            
             
               Since
               thou
               dost
               liue
               to
               plead
               graue
               Ploydons
               case
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             21.
             
             Patience
             is
             a
             Vertue
             .
             To
             his
             lo
             :
             Cosin
             ,
             and
             deere
             alismar
             ,
             
               Hop
               :
               Thomas
            
             .
          
           
             
               PAtience
               endures
               the
               brunt
               of
               all
               assaults
               .
            
             
               Eor
               frowning
               fortune
               can
               it
               nought
               displease
               ;
            
             
               Nor
               ,
               can
               it
               〈◊〉
               base
               feigned
               frindships
               faults
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               yet
               ,
               being
               wrong'd
               ,
               from
               constancie
               will
               cease
               ▪
            
             
               Therefore
               ,
               a
               peerelesse
               vertue
               ,
               patience
               is
               ,
            
             
               Whereto
               nothing
               ,
               at
               no
               time
               ,
               comes
               amisse
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             22.
             
             Of
             the
             wonder
             ,
             in
             Herefordshire
             ;
             being
             a
             Peece
             of
             ground
             ,
             that
             mou'd
             of
             it selfe
             .
          
           
             
               PHilosophers
               ,
               for
               truth
               doe
               testifie
               ,
            
             
               Our
               Mother
               earth
               immouable
               to
               be
               ;
            
             
               But
               thy selfe
               motion
               strange
               Philosophie
               ,
            
             
             
               These
               Sages
               wise
               ,
               proues
               liers
               ,
               as
               we
               see
               .
            
             
               If
               this
               thy
               motion
               had
               continu'd
               ay
               ,
            
             
               Our
               a
               Aristotle
               we
               might
               iust
               gainesay
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             23.
             
             To
             his
             lo.
             and
             constant
             friend
             Mr.
             Moore
          
           
             
               ALtho
               a
               thy
               name
               might
               thee
               vnconstant
               proue
               ;
            
             
               The
               contrary
               we
               finde
               in
               thy
               firme
               loue
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             24.
             
             An
             Adonicke
             .
             On
             Mysa
             and
             Mopsa
             ,
             two
             Honest
             Scoulds
             .
          
           
             
               Yow
               both
               togither
            
             
               Iarring
               a
               sunder
               :
            
             
               Farre
               should
               be
               rather
            
             
               Birds
               of
               one
               feather
               .
            
             
               Since
               your
               pure
               liuing
               ,
            
             
               Ioin'd
               in
               one
               trading
               :
            
             
               Neuer
               omitting
            
             
               Your
               Mates
               defaming
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             25.
             
             Semel
             insaniuimus
             omnes
             .
             To
             his
             Cosin
             ,
             Mr.
             
               I.
               P.
            
             
          
           
             
               THe
               Prouerbe
               se's
               ,
               that
               all
               the
               best
               of
               any
            
             
               Hath
               once
               bin
               mad
               ;
               that
               once
               is
               certs
               too
               many
               ;
            
             
               But
               ,
               after
               once
               ,
               we
               come
               to
               perfect
               wit
               ,
            
             
               Worth
               small
               dispraise
               ,
               I
               deeme
               that
               franticke
               fit
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epigr.
             26.
             
             To
             the
             best
             Indenture
             drawer
             ,
             Titubus
             ,
             the
             night-walker
             of
             Fleetstreet
             .
          
           
             
               VVHat
               mak's
               thee
               walke
               so
               late
               against
               the
               law
               ?
            
             
               Kind
               Mr.
               Chach
               I
               doe
               Endendures
               Draw
               :
            
             
               Indentures
               drawe
               ,
               in
               the
               darke
               gloomy
               night
               ?
            
             
               Whose
               Manuscript
               require
               a
               brighter
               light
               .
            
             
               You
               are
               mistake
               ,
               we
               feld
               vse
               light
               or
               hand
               :
            
             
               We
               write
               e're
               Best
               ,
               whenscarse
               we
               see
               ,
               or
               stand
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             27
             To
             the
             euerliuing
             ,
             and
             never
             dying
             memory
             of
             the
             most
             Reverend
             fatther
             in
             God
             ,
             
               Io
               :
               Whitgift
            
             ,
             late
             Archbishop
             of
             Canterbury
          
           
             
               RIght
               reverend
               Prelate
               of
               our
               Church
               diuine
               ,
            
             
               Strong
               ,
               sollid
               Piller
               of
               Gods
               holy
               Arke
               ,
            
             
               Bright
               Beacon
               ,
               which
               incontinence
               didst
               shine
               ,
            
             
               ●…ole
               ,
               chiefest
               Scholars
               comfortable
               Marke
               .
            
             
               Thy
               name
               Whitgift
               ,
               for
               nought
               was
               sure
               not
               hight
               :
            
             
               For
               both
               in
               life
               ,
               and
               lore
               thy
               Gifts
               were
               Whit
               :
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Epig.
             28.
             
             On
             the
             most
             ho
             :
             and
             worthy
             lo
             :
             Lord
             Viscount
             de
             Lisles
             Posie
             .
             Quo
             me
             fata
             vocant
             .
          
           
             
               THy
               splendent
               Posie
               ,
               well
               agrees
               with
               thee
               ,
            
             
               Renowned
               Lord
               ,
               bright
               Sydney's
               shining
               Lampe
               :
            
             
               For
               where
               so
               e're
               th'
               art
               call'd
               by
               Destenie
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               ready
               art
               for
               Court
               ,
               or
               els
               for
               Campe.
            
             
               In
               one
               ,
               or
               both
               thy
               praise
               doth
               most
               surpasse
               ;
            
             
               Such
               euer
               ,
               Sidneys
               Trophies
               noble
               ,
               was
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             29.
             
             To
             the
             Malevolent
             ,
             and
             Taxing
             Censurer
             ,
             of
             his
             Epigrammes
             .
          
           
             
               IF
               thou
               of
               glory
               vaine
               wilt
               me
               accuse
               ,
            
             
               These
               worrhlesse
               lines
               in
               promulgating
               out
               ;
            
             
               Beleeue
               it
               then
               ,
               I
               will
               not
               ,
               Mome
               refuse
            
             
               The
               lye
               to
               giue
               thee
               ,
               if
               a
               Souldier
               stout
               .
            
             
               T
               was
               friends
               ,
               not
               Fame
               that
               these
               made
               publik
               then
            
             
               In
               Lethe's
               lake
               ,
               els
               drench
               '
               had
               bene
               my
               pen.
               
            
          
        
         
           
             Epig.
             30.
             
             To
             his
             friend
             the
             Printer
             of
             his
             Booke
             .
          
           
             
               Some
               volumes
               bring
               in
               Folio
               to
               the
               Presse
               ,
            
             
               In
               Quarto
               some
               ,
               according
               to
               their
               lore
               ;
            
          
           
             
             
               〈◊〉
               all
               the
               learned
               ;
               I
               w●…
               am
               the
               lesse
            
             
               〈◊〉
               〈◊〉
               ●…ring
               th●…
               all
               any
               store
               .
            
             
               ●…ie
               it
               not
               fould
               in
               sexto
               〈◊〉
            
             
               Least
               ,
               as
               the
               Tome
               ,
               his
               〈◊〉
               a●…
               little
               grow
               .
            
             
               Respect
               the
               paper
               ,
               though
               a
               p●…
               worth
               small
               ;
            
             
               T
               will
               s●…
               for
               one
               〈◊〉
               〈◊〉
               thee
               at
               thy
               stall
               :
            
          
        
         
           
             ●…ig
             .
             ●…1
             .
             On
             the
             ●…thers
             〈◊〉
             period
             of
             his
             〈◊〉
             Hope
             .
          
           
             
               THy
               hopelesse
               name
               ,
               stiles
               thee
               with
               no
               good
               hap
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               Numbers
               od●…
               approues
               thee
               happy
               yet
               :
            
             
               For
               ioy
               therefore
               thy
               Plaudities
               forth
               ●…ap
               ;
            
             
               Thy
               one
               and
               thirty
               right
               the
               Game
               has
               hit
               .
            
          
           
             Disce
             a●…t
             Discede
             .
          
        
         
           FINIS
           .
        
         
      
    
     
       
         Notes, typically marginal, from the original text
         
           Notes for div A01428-e1910
           
             a
             Pythagoras
             .
          
           
             *
             Anacharsis
             ●…ter
             Scytha●…
             .
          
           
             *
             Luca
             10.
             42.
             
          
           
             *
             qui
             cadit
             in
             〈◊〉
             ,
             non
             habet
             vnde
             cadat
             .
          
           
             *
             Ins●…ia
             .
          
           
             *
             〈◊〉
             .
          
           
             *
             His
             Studie
             .
          
           
             *
             Ex
             Mo.
             Vtopia
             .
          
           
             *
             H●…dings
             .
          
           
             *
             Psal.
             23.
             4.
             
          
           
             *
             God.
             
          
           
             ..
             Ios.
             10.
             13.
             
          
           
             *
             Act.
             4.
             35.
             
          
           
             ::
             Act.
             5.
             2.
             
          
           
             a
             Ephes.
             3.
             8.
             
          
           
             *
             Pediculos
             .
          
           
             a
             Spiritus
             ,
             &
             Car●…
             .
          
           
             b
             Gal.
             5.
             
          
           
             c
             2.
             
             Cor.
             4.
             
          
           
             a
             New
             Coll.
             in
             Oxenford
             .
          
           
             a
             Pecunia
             potest
             omnia
             .
          
           
             *
             Catalogue
             .
          
           
             a
             1.
             
             Meta.
             
          
           
             a
             Gen.
             49.
             33.
             
          
           
             b
             Apoc.
             〈◊〉
             .
          
           
             a
             Ex
             lib.
             Aug.
             Nau.
             
          
        
         
           Notes for div A01428-e12660
           
             a
             Ne
             Suter
             vltra
             cripidam
             .
          
           
             a
             A
             pure
             Protestant
             .
          
           
             a
             Apoc.
             18.
             7.
             
          
           
             b
             Apoc.
             18.
             9.
             
          
           
             a
             S●…
             de
             Tranquil
             .
             ●…im
             .
          
           
             a
             Mat.
             19.
             26.
             
          
           
             a
             Exilih
             .
             Munst.
             Cosm.
             
          
           
             a
             Mat.
             10.
             
          
           
             a
             Arist.
             1
             Eth.
             
          
           
             a
             Ex
             Munst
             Cosm.
             
          
           
             a
             Ex
             lib.
             Nauig
             .
             Aug.
             
          
           
             b
             1
             Cor.
             7.
             3.
             
          
           
             a
             Gen.
             49.
             5.
             
          
           
             b
             Gen.
             34.
             5.
             
          
           
             a
             drunke
             .
          
           
             a
             Qucene
             Elizabeth
             .
          
           
             a
             vnconstant
             .
          
           
             a
             Mat.
             13.
             28.
             
          
           
             a
             A
             famous
             housekeeper
             .
          
           
             a
             Ex
             E●…seb
             .
          
           
             a
             2
             C●…
             ,
             11.
             14.
             
          
           
             a
             Ex
             lo
             Stovve
             .
             Chron.
             
          
           
             a
             1
             Tim.
             23.
             
          
           
             a
             Mat.
             22.
             32.
             
          
           
             a
             Quaeuis
             terra
             alit
             artem
             .
          
           
             a
             Senes
             his
             pueri
             .
          
        
         
           Notes for div A01428-e23440
           
             a
             Vlt.
             Deut.
             
          
           
             a
             a
             2
             Cor.
             12
             4.
             
          
           
             *
             Decimae
             Minutae
             .
          
           
             a
             Acts
             13.
             6
             ,
          
           
             a
             a
             pro
             rossilie
             .
          
           
             a
             Est
             Aristotelus
             .
          
           
             a
             Fortune
             .