WOTTON. - BARNFIELD.

-

- DAVIES.

175

He first deceased; she for a little tried
To live without him, liked it not, and died.

Upon the Death of Sir Albert Morton's Wife.

I am but a gatherer and disposer of other men's stuff. Preface to the Elements of Architecture.

Hanging was the worst use a man could be put to.

The Disparity between Buckingham and Essex.

Reliquia Wottoniana,

An ambassador is an honest man sent to lie abroad for the commonwealth.1 The itch of disputing will prove the scab of churches.2

A Panegyric to King Charles.

Much like a subtle spider which doth sit

In middle of her web, which spreadeth wide;

1 In a letter to Velserus, 1612, Wotton says, "This merry definition of

an ambassador I had chanced to set down at my friend's, Mr. Christopher Fleckamore, in his Album."

2 He directed the stone over his grave to be inscribed :—

Hic jacet hujus sententiæ primus author:
DISPUTANDI PRURITUS ECCLESIARUM SCABIES.

Nomen alias quære

(Here lies the author of this phrase: "The itch for disputing is the sore of churches." Seek his name elsewhere).

WALTON: Life of Wotton.

3 This song, often attributed to Shakespeare, is now confidently assigned to Barnfield; it is found in his collection of "Poems in Divers Humours," published in 1598.-ELLIS: Specimens, vol. ii. p. 316.

If aught do touch the utmost thread of it,
She feels it instantly on every side.1

The Immortality of the Soul.

Wedlock, indeed, hath oft compared been

To public feasts, where meet a public rout,
Where they that are without would fain go in,
And they that are within would fain go out.2
Contention betwixt a Wife, etc.

DRYDEN: Mariage à la Mode, act ii. sc. 1.
The spider's touch-how exquisitely fine! -
Feels at each thread, and lives along the line.

POPE: Epistle i. line 217..

2 'Tis just like a summer bird-cage in a garden: the birds that are without despair to get in, and the birds that are within despair and are in a Consumption for fear they shall never get out. — - WEBSTER: The White Devil, aet i. sc. 2.

Le mariage est comme une forteresse assiégée; ceux qui sont dehors veulent y entrer, et ceux qui sont dedans veulent en sortir (Marriage is like a beleaguered fortress: those who are outside want to get in, and those inside want to get out).- QUITARD: Études sur les Proverbes Français, P. 102.

It happens as with cages: the birds without despair to get in, and those within despair of getting out. MONTAIGNE: Upon some Verses of Virgil, chap. v.

Is not marriage an open question, when it is alleged, from the beginning of the world, that such as are in the institution wish to get out, and such as are out wish to get in? - EMERSON: Representative Men: Montaigne.

8 When the battle rages loud and long,

And the stormy winds do blow.

CAMPBELL: Ye Mariners of England

DR. JOHN DONNE. 1573-1631.

He was the Word, that spake it.
He took the bread and brake it;
And what that Word did make it,
I do believe and take it.1

Divine Poems. On the Sacrament

We understood

Her by her sight; her pure and eloquent blood
Spoke in her cheeks, and so distinctly wrought
That one might almost say her body thought.

Funeral Elegies. On the Death of Mistress Drury.

She and comparisons are odious.2

Elegy 8.

The Comparison.

1 Attributed by many writers to the Princess Elizabeth. It is not in the original edition of Donne, but first appears in the edition of 1654, p. 352.

2 See Fortescue, page 7.

3 See Bacon, page 166.

40 rare Ben Jonson !- SIR JOHN YOUNG: Epitaph.

Hang sorrow! care will kill a cat. - WITHER: Poem on Christmas.

Get place and wealth, — if possible, with grace;

If not, by any means get wealth and place.

POPE: Horace, book i. epistle i. line 103.

Have paid scot and lot there any time this eighteen years. Every Man in his Humour. Act ii. Sc. 3. Act iv. Sc. v.

It must be done like lightning.

There shall be no love lost.1

Every Man out of his Humour. Act ii. Sc. 1

Still to be neat, still to be drest,
As you were going to a feast.

2

Epicone; Or, the Silent Woman. Act i. Sc. 1

Give me a look, give me a face,
That makes simplicity a grace;
Robes loosely flowing, hair as free,
Such sweet neglect more taketh me
Than all the adulteries of art:

They strike mine eyes, but not my heart.

That old bald cheater, Time.

Ibid.

The Poetaster. Acti. Sc. 1.

The world knows only two, - that 's Rome and I.

Sejanus. Act v. Sc. 1.

Whilst that for which all virtue now is sold,
And almost every vice, - almighty gold.3

Epistle to Elizabeth, Countess of Rutland.

1 There is no love lost between us. CERVANTES: Don Quixote, part ii. chap. xxxiii.

2 A translation from Bonnefonius.

8 The flattering, mighty, nay, almighty gold. WOLCOT: To Kien Long, Ode iv.

Almighty dollar. IRVING: The Creole Village.

Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I'll not look for wine.1

Soul of the age,

The Forest. To Celia.

The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage,
My Shakespeare, rise! I will not lodge thee by
Chaucer or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie

A little further, to make thee a room.2

Marlowe's mighty line.

Small Latin, and less Greek.

To the Memory of Shakespeare.

He was not of an age, but for all time.

For a good poet's made as well as born.

Sweet swan of Avon!
Underneath this sable hearse
Lies the subject of all verse,
Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother.
Death, ere thou hast slain another,
Learn'd and fair and good as she,
Time shall throw a dart at thee.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Epitaph on the Countess of Pembroke.

1 Ἐμοὶ δὲ μόνοις πρύπινε τοῖς ὄμμασιν. . . . Εἰ δὲ βούλει, τοῖς χείλεσι προσφέρουσα, πλήρου φιλημάτων τὸ ἔκπωμα, καὶ οὕτως δίδου

(Drink to me with your eyes alone.

And if you will, take the cup

to your lips and fill it with kisses, and give it so to me).

PHILOSTRATUS: Letter xxiv.

2 Renowned Spenser, lie a thought more nigh
To learned Chaucer, and rare Beaumont lie
A little nearer Spenser, to make room
For Shakespeare in your threefold, fourfold tomb.

BASSE: On Shakespeare.

This epitaph is generally ascribed to Ben Jonson. It appears in the editions of his Works; but in a manuscript collection of Browne's poems preserved amongst the Lansdowne MS. No. 777, in the British Museum, it is ascribed to Browne, and awarded to him by Sir Egerton Brydges in his

edition of Browne's poems.