IV.

TO A

VIRTUOUS YOUNG LADY.

LADY, that in the prime of earliest youth
Wisely hast shunn'd the broad way and the green,
And with those few art eminently seen,

That labour up the hill of heavenly truth:

The better part with Mary and with Ruth

Chosen thou hast; and they that overween, And at thy growing virtues fret their spleen, No anger find in thee, but pity and ruth. Thy care is fix'd, and zealously attends

To fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light, And hope that reaps not shame. Therefore be

sure

Thou, when the bridegroom with his feastful friend Passes to bliss at the mid hour of night,

Hast gain'd thy entrance, Virgin wise and pure.

V.

TO THE

LADY MARGARET LEY.

DAUGHTER to that good Earl, once President
Of England's Council and her Treasury,
Who liv'd in both, unstain'd with gold or fee,
And left them both, more in himself content,
Till sad the breaking of that Parliament
Broke him, as that dishonest victory

At Chæronea, fatal to liberty,

Kill'd with report that old man eloquent.

Though later born than to have known the days Wherein your father flourish'd, yet by you,

Madam, methinks I see him living yet; So well your words his noble virtues praise, That all both judge you to relate them true, And to possess them, honour'd Margaret.

VI.

On the detraction which followed upon my writing

certain treatises.

A BOOK was writ of late call'd Tetrachordon,
And woven close, both matter, form, and stile;
The subject new: it walk'd the Town awhile,
Numbering good intellects; now seldom por'd on.
Cries the stall-reader, Bless us! what a word on
A title page is this! and some in file

Stand spelling false, while one might walk to

Mile

End Green. Why is it harder, Sirs, than Gordon Colkitto, or Macdonnel, or Galasp?

Those rugged names to our like mouths grow sleek,

That would have made Quintilian stare and gasp. Thy age, like ours, O Soul of Sir John Cheek,

Hated not learning worse than toad or asp, When thou taught'st Cambridge, and king Edward, Greek.

I DID but prompt the age to quit their clogs
By the known rules of ancient liberty,
When straight a barbarous noise environs me
Of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes and dogs:

As when those hinds that were transform'd to frogs
Rail'd at Latona's twin-born progeny,

Which after held the sun and moon in fee.
But this is got by casting pearl to hogs;

That bawl for freedom in their senseless mood,
And still revolt, when truth would set them free.
Licence they mean when they cry Liberty;

For who loves that, must first be wise and good;
But from that mark how far they rove we see,
For all this waste of wealth, and loss of blood.

VIII.

ΤΟ

MR. H. LAWES,

ON THE

Publishing his Airs.

HARRY, whose tuneful and well measur'd song First taught our English musick how to span Words with just note and accent, not to scan With Midas ears, committing short and long;

Thy worth and skill exempts thee from the throng, With praise enough for envy to look wan;

To after age thou shalt be writ the

man,

That with smooth air could'st humour best our

tongue.

Thou honour'st verse, and verse must lend her wing To honour thee, the priest of Phoebus' quire,

That tun'st their happiest lines in hymn, or story. Dante shall give Fame leave to set thee higher Than his Casella, whom he woo'd to sing Met in the milder shades of Purgatory.