Pleasant dialogues and dramma's, selected out of Lucian, Erasmus, Textor, Ovid, &c. With sundry emblems extracted from the most elegant Iacobus Catsius. As also certaine elegies, epitaphs, and epithalamions or nuptiall songs; anagrams and acrosticks; with divers speeches (upon severall occasions) spoken to their most excellent Majesties, King Charles, and Queene Mary. With other fancies translated from Beza, Bucanan, and sundry Italian poets. By Thomas Heywood

Sundry Fancies writ upon severall occasions. By the same Author.

The Queene feasting the King at Somerset house, upon his Birth day, hers falling in the same weeke, this was there spoken unto them.

VVEE cannot read in any flourishing state, Whether by King sward or by optimate, A greater blessing hapning to one Nation, By two such births beneath one constellation. For being in one moneth, one weeke; small let October. There was, these two blest birth-dayes had not met: Yet hath the powerfull hand of heaven so guided, (Though) by small distance of two dayes divided: These starres who then, their influence had alone Are now combin'd, fixt in one glorious Throne: From whosē joynt rayes another's risen since, (Lusterd from both) a sweet and hopefull Prince. O may be from your vertues so much gaine, That little Charles may prove our Charlemaine.

To them both at parting.

The Romanes of their birth-dayes had such care, They kept them sacred, and not one might dare, In all their families to worke, but play, Observing that, as an high festivall day.

The Emperours birth-dayes were cald Albae, white, As the sole lustre, and their Kingdomes light. In you: how much doth heaven your Nations blesse, To enjoy two such: the greater, and the lesse.

A speech spoken to their two excellent Majesties, at the first Play play'd by the Queenes Servants, in the new Theater at White Hall.

When Greece, the chiefe priority might claime For Arts, and Armes, and held the eminent name Of Monarchie; They erected divers places, Some to the Muses, others to the Graces: Where Actors strove, and Poets did devise With tongue and pen, to please the eares and eyes Of Princely Auditors; The time was, when To heare, the rapture of one Poets pen, A Theater hath beene built, By the fates doome, When th' Empire was removed from thence to Rome. The potent Caesars had their Circi, and Large Amphitheaters: in which might stand And sit, full fourescore thousand, all in view, And touch of voice: This great Augustus knew. Nay Rome, it's wealth, and potency injoyd, Till by the barbarous Gothes these were destroy'd. But may this structure last, and you be seene Here a spectator, with your Princely Queene, In your old age, as in your flourishing prime, To out-strip Augustus both in fame and time.

To the King and Queene upon a New-yeares day at night: to Two-fac't Ianus with a great golden Key in his hand, the Presenter.

Where is my Sonne December? yong'st and last Of twelve? what sleeping now? now snorting fast? In this joyes festivall? from yeares agone, Solemnis'd one thousand sixe hundred thirty one.

Can neither musick, sport, nor myrth awake thee, But to eleven moneths sleep must thou betake thee? Why doth not January then appeare, Before old Janus father of the yeare? My eldest boy? now I remember. Hee, Is busied in this annuall Iubilee. And still the one hand with the other shifts, In giving and receiving New-yeares gifts. But stay; two faces Ianus? one to view The past yeare; th' other, that which shall insue. Shal't be imputed to thine age or sloath * 1.1 To neglect these; the glory of them both? No; fall thus low, to celebrate that throne In which the two great lights are met in one Without ecclipse; This key commands the screw, That lockes the past yeare up, and opes the new, This shuts up all disaster, dearth, disease, Opening to you all glad things that may please, To crowne your blessednesse, and as that gone. Hath crown'd you with an Heire (as yet alone) There's by auspitious Iove a second breeding, Our hope, and honour of the yeare succeeding. As in the last, may Heaven in this defend them, Whilst Ianus with his twelve sonnes shall attend them.

The Epilogue spoken by the same Ianus.

Health, strength, and many a glad new yeare, A constant solace, joyfull cheere, Waite ever on that awfull throne, Where rest two Princely hearts, made one. From which blest union, may supply Of issue to eternity Grace and become it: These presages Prove fortunate to after ages, Which long succession hence may see, Till time and houres shall cease to bee.

A Prologue spoke before the King, when her Majesty was great with child.

Health, joy, peace, plenty, and a flourishing state, A dexter omen; an auspitious fate, Attend you ever, like Hiperion shine In his meridian, never to decline. And may your royall Cynthia who hath run Sixe annuall courses with you, and begun, Now on the seventh, who to your Kingdomes Cheere And your great joy, at this time fills her sphere, In a most hopefull plenitude: so waine After blest issue, that your glorious raigne, May see your Sonnes Sonnes Princes of such name, That the whole world may eccho to their fame. From her chast wombe may such faire daughters spring, That each may prove the consort to a King. And both survive to see't: this we intreat May come from her who is so good, so great.

The Epilogue.

Those heavenly Guardians that with patents large, Have in tuition Kings and Kingdomes charge, Protect you both, that as we daily see Nations, that farre remote and forraigne be Send hither as to an Oracle to know, What's for their safety best: you may still grow In wisedome and in power, till your command May extend it selfe so farre by Sea and Land, That through the Christian world it may be said, All begge of Charles, but he needs no mans ayd.

Another spoken at White Hall before their sacred Majesties.

Exuberant joyes, delights transcending waite About the orbe of this illustrious state. All sad disasters flie beyond those Seas That ebbe and flow unto th' Antipodes. Or if they chance to linger by the way,

May they with Mahomet, and Ali stay: But never in these Climes find place of rest Or shelter, where the sacred truth's profest, But in their stead, prosperity and peace, Aboundance, health, with numerous increase Of royall issue 'bout your throne be seene, To glad my soveraigne, and rejoyce his Queene: So shall your Nations in bright lustre shine, Figuring in these your Persons, powers divine.

The Epilogue.

Miriads of joyes your royall he arts surprise, Yea more than any rapture can devise, The heart of man conceive, or tongue expresse, That in your more than common happinesse, All your true subjects with unanimous voice, May both in you, and your blest seed rejoyce.

A Prologue spoken to their sacred Majesties at Hampton Court.

If Caesar, greatest in great Pompeis fall, As being made the soveraigne over all The (then knowne) world; or if Augustus; Hee Who left his ample name Hereditarie To all succeeding Emperours; If to th' last Of the twelve Caesars, Theaters were grac't, And when the Iulian family expir'd In many ages after were admir'd? And the more fame from forraigne parts to win, Adornd without, and beautified within. If by succession we can draw them downe Through nations, realmes and tongues, even to our own, Proving these flourishing Kingdomes prosperd well, And never faild before these structures fell: Or were supprest; for 'tis a bad presage, (All mirth exil'd) still followes wrack and strage. If then a factious peevish male-content, Envying a blest state; shall his malice vent

In bald unlicenc't papers? so much daring As neither Soveraigne, nor the subject sparing: Assuming in a strange libellious straine, To thinke all wisedome treasur'd in his braine? Be all such frustrate in their vaine indeavour, Whilst you oh Royall Caesar live for ever.

The Epilogue.

Ioves Influent Planet boading power and state For ever, on this high tribunall waite. Apolloe's fire, add verdure, to your dayes, And crown your long raigne with his Daphnes bayes. Hermes attend you with his peaceful starre, And Mars protect you in all menacing warre. May Venus and the Moones bright constellations, With their best fulgence smile on all your Nations: But on all male-contents let Saturne lower, Such as maligne your glory and your power.

Spoken to their two Majesties at Hampton Court. Prologue.

Amongst the Greecians there were annuall feasts, To which none were invited as chiefe gests, Save Princes and their wives: Amongst the men No argument could be desputed then But who best govern'd; and (as't did appeare) He was proclaim'd sole Soveraigne for that yeare, The Queenes and Ladies argued at that time For beauty and for vertue, who was prime. And she had the like honour. Two here be, For Beauty one, the other Majesty. Most worthy, did that custome still persever, Not for one yeare, but to be soveraignes ever.

Epilogue.

Still the more glorious that the creatures bee, They in their native goodnesse are more free To things below them: so the sunne wee find Vnpartially to shine on all mankind,

Denying light to none, and you we may Great King, most justly call our light, our day, Whose glorious course may never be quite runne, Whilst earth hath soveraigne, or the Heavens a Sunne.

Spoken to their two Majesties at White Hall. Prologue.

Whom Heaven with all choice graces hath indowed, Whom even the Angels praise and men admire! On whom your Maker hath his bounty showed, Where nothing wants that mans heart can desire, Your peoples joy, your Peeres selected pleasure. Your Kingdomes admiration, Nations wonder, Of forraigne climes the praise, of ours the treasure. O never may that sacred union sunder. That whilst we daily of high heaven importune, You may be in your royall issue blest, You may still grow in greatnesse, fame and fortune, All which at seeming height, be still increast. Prove thou a prophet muse, say 'tis decreed, All Christendome shall flourish in your seed.

The Epilogue.

Could we all Panegyries put in one, That have beene on the ancient Heroes writ, They might all be conferd on you alone, And you great Princes justly merit it. O may you in your happy loves persever, Diurnally augment, but not decline, That this your people may admire you ever, Till heaven that gave you us make you divine. And that which we of aged Nestor read, May of you two be chronicled indeed.

Spoken to their excellent Majesties upon the like occasion. Prologue.

Excellent Princes may you ever bee, As great as good, each yeare a Iubilee. That as heavens bounty crownes you with th' increase

Of honour, glory, and domestick peace. You, with like liberall hands instated here, May to each subject and deserving Peere: Like the bright Sunne your glorious favours throw, To comfort and make flourish what's below. Whilst we like the woods Quiristers still sing Loud Hymnes to you the Lord of this our spring.

The Epilogue.

You that are Emblemes of that light divine, Which equally on all estates doth shine, The Palace and the Cottage, flower and weed, Of whose bright luster all have use, and need, Even from the Scarlet, to the Russet: Gray As well as Purple: Had we power, as they That are in eminent place; there could not be Those, should expresse more gratitude than we. The rich may pay in gold, that which he owes, But we our debt, onely in words and showes.

Spoken to the King and Queene, at the second time of the Authors Play cald Cupids Mistresse or Cupid and Psiche, presented before them. Cupid, the Prologue.

Yes; sure 'twas here, where some few houres I past The very time that I descended last. Yes; here it was, I know it by a face, To which my Mistresse Psiche must give place. A presence; that from Venus takes all power, And makes each place she comes in, Cupids bower. Though in their severall spheres each Planet tride, (With all the Gods) to feast me and my bride, With Nector and Ambrosia, yet that waste Of god-like fare, could not my palate taste, But I must all celestiall sweets forbeare, To review earthly Jove and Juno here. Whom having seene; Haile to you once againe.

Long as the Spheres continue may you raigne In Majesty, in power, with issue blest Be all these, with your fortunate yeares increase, Till Cupid ever young, with time grow old, And you this Iron age changing to gold, Repur'd by your two vertues, These, Ethereall May change to brighter chayres in th' heavens Imperiall

The speech spoken to their two Majesties, eight dayes before, being the Kings birth-day: presented at Somerset house, by the Queenes appointment, she then feasting the King. Cupid, the Prologue.

Who so unread; doth not of Plato heare His Annus magnus, and his vertent yeare? In which the Starres and Planets, Moone and Sunne, Tyr'd with continuall labour, having runne So many ages long peregrination, Each returnes fresh and new to their first station. This is the yeare sure; rather this the day Able to turne November into May. This day's in heaven a Iubilee of joy, Where Angels sing in quires Vive la Roy. This is the royall birth-day of a King, Then Men with Angels, Iô Poean sing. I'had almost lost my selfe: when my intent Was to tell why I come; and from whom sent; From one, to whom I'm but a shadow; shee The very soule of amabilitie. One that without my quiver and my bow, Commands the hearts, and eyes of high and low. Whose name inscrib'd here did you but behold, I'would change the sooty Inke to liquid gold. Of fulgent beauty, but so pure a mind, As if tinctur'd from heaven, and so divin'd. •• Love from Love am sent, but she the right, Then grace great King the Triumphs of loves night.

The Maske concluding with a stately measure, of the Gods and Planets, Cupid (they all standing about him bending) the Epilogue thus concludes.

Now royall Princes let me turne to you, Daigne from loves mouth to take this nights adieu. Thinke all these Planets that on earth here move, (Shadowes of these celestiall ones above) Breath on you their best influences: Vulcan, Hee Shall henceforth take charge of your Armorie. Iuno the marriage Queene, shall blesse your bed, The Sunne shall take the bright beames from his head, To increase your glorious luster, and the Moone Attend on you, to make your midnight noone. Cores with plenty shall in rich your store, And Mercury shall flie from shore to shore Vpon your errands: prove your happy ranger, Homebred to espy, and foresee forraigne danger. Venus with sweets, and I, with love will charme you, And after all these Jove with power shall arme you. I'have kept you waking long: good night, 'tis late. Many such birth-dayes may you celebrate.

Spoken to his Majesty upon a New yeares day at night. The Prologue.

Renowned King, we to your eares commend These our unpolisht labours, harsh and low, Hoping your grace will like the Sunne extend, Those glorious beames that make the Cedars grow, Shine on the basest shrubs, his vertue's seene As well in weeds as flowers, for both are greene. Then let your Majesty by whose aspect All these sweetgarden flowers, these Trees still flourish The least part of your glorious shine reflect On us: your beames great Brittaines land doth nourish. Still moving in this bright and luminous sphere, To joy your Court with many a glad New-yeare.

Mongst other presents, high and sacred King, This solemne day presented at your seat Their tribute love, your humble vassals bring. But though our gifts be small, our wills are great, We come, though naked of desert or merit, Yet arm'd with wishes, and devoutest prayer, Trusting you many ages may inherit That high Tribunall, peace and love prepare, That this first day which enters a new yeare, On which the two fac't Ianus lookes with joy, May many seasons hence, with gladsome cheare, Be hallowed still, that heavens hand may destroy Your enemies: and so your friends maintaine. They many yeares hence may admire your raigne

Another spoken at the Court to the like purpose. Prologue.

As all small rivers to the ocean runne, As to the soveraigne of their silver streames, As all lesse lights doe borrow of the Sunne, From whom alone they take their golden beames. So to this glorious Sunne we pay our light, Without whose face we live in endlesse night. O you, on your owne earth soly divine, Who fill your faire Court with your beames of grace, With one small glimmering on our pastimes shine, The Sun barres none the beauty of his face. Poets that have like Larkes already sung, Vnto the morning of your prosperous raigne, Shall with an Angels quill and Cherubs tongue, Your grace and goodnesse through the world proclaime. But when you reach the noontyde point, then stay, And in the height of glory shine for aye.

Epilogue.

Most high and sacred Sir, we now are cast ••ow as the earth, strook mute with feare and terror,

Lest through our want of judgement we have past Words rudely plac't: or duty mixt with error. The Shepheards Pipe made of an Oaten Reed, Cannot compare with great Apollos lyre: Nor should our Muse, that no delight can breed Vnto your high and Princely eares aspire. We bring a mite that would present a mine, Our loves we pay, to whom our lives we owe, Water we bring, who could affoord it wine, Our art you see, our hearts we cannot show. O if we could! we would inrich this place With joyes essentiall, blessings above measure. Heaven, Earth, Ayre, Sea, all powre upon your grace, Their speciall bounties, and their richest treasure. In our last wish all your desires attaine, Life, safety, health, with a long-lasting raigne.

A Prologue spoken at the right Honourable the Earle of Dover house in Broadstreet, at a Play in a most bountifull Christmas hee kept there; the Speaker Hospitality a frollick old fellow: A Coller of Brawne in one hand, and a deepe Bowle of Muscadel in the other.

Where is that rich mans Minion, cal'd Frugality? What hath he quite hence banisht Hospitality? In dayes of old, when yea and nay did passe For currant troth, I and old Christenmasse Were of acquaintance; but of late I find Frugality quick sighted, my selfe blind. He goes through Court, through Country, City, and Findes entertainment, for each frugall hand Still bids him welcome: yet a novice hee: But I, that am of more antiquity Than Pauls (alas) by time and age decayd, Nay almost since this Cities ground-sills layd, Walke up and downe and knock at each mans dore, And finde the same cold welcome as before.

But harke, a Cock crowd, and I heard a Swan Ecchoing to him, that here did live a man, Noble, and of that high and ancient straine, To call back Hospitality againe. Then by the good Lords and kind Ladies leave, Since their wide Gates stand ready to receive So great a stranger, and (in me) these guests ••o oft invited to their annuall feasts. This blessing take, oh whether in this place, Or where so else this blest time you so grace, May your warme Chimneyes smoke, and hot fires glow, Whilst Thames breeds Swans, or Cocks 'gainst Christmas crow.

It is to be observed that the Earle in Heraldry gives the Swan, and the Countesse the Cocke, &c. The Epilogue presented by delight.

••e see bright day succeeds darke night, ••isaster past, then comes delight, ••rom seeming death reviv'd to tell, ••hat here she henceforth meanes to dwell, ••hen hospitality hath grace, ••elight should ever there finde place. ••eceive her then your houshold guest, ••his night to attend you to your rest: ••nd when your quiet sleepe is spent, ••wake you to your more content, ••home, abroad, handmaid, and guide: ••••ether you sit, lye, walke or ride, ••ort, purpose serious meditation, ••••d thought, still have to me relation, ••••d so for ever, as this night, ••waited on by choise delight.

Spoken to the right Honourable the Earle of Dover, at his house in Broadstreet upon a Candlemas night. The Prologue.

•••• downy Swan though yoakt in Venus Teame,

Yet of all birds that ever lov'd the streame, Is held to be the chiefest: Pallas Owle In Athens fam'd for many a learned scrowle, Compos'd in Inke and Oyle, th' embleme of watch, By which the most laborious students catch At Arts (howe're, benighted) was not more Famous, in Greece, then on Caister shore Your sacred Bird, which the nine Sisters strove To make the symbole of conjugall love, With which the Cock, the Bird of Mars combin'd, A double gardian knot, to be untwin'd Never: 'Tis now made fast, so intricate, Not Alexanders sword, not time, not fate Can e'ver untye, for what's in vertue laid, Envie can never blast, nor age invade. In this blest state both you, and yours, now stand As first dispos'd, so strengthened by that hand, Which as it makes, protects; you have begun To grace the City with your presence: run That happy course still: you and your lov'd wife Have to dead hospitality given new life. Still cherish it: old Christenmasse almost starv'd Through base neglect, by you hath beene preserv'd. O give him still like welcome, that whilst he Hath name on earth, you may his harbourer be.

Epilogue.

What man can wish his blisse to crowne, Or in abundance heaven powre downe. Health, plenty, solace, all delights That lengthen dayes, or shorten nights. Heavens favour, and the Courts best grace, Attend the great Lord of this place. Old Christenmasse hunger-starv'd and dry, Who earst did drinke deepe and far'd hye You welcome, and with Princely cheere, Feast Ianus father of the yeare.

The sparing Chuff could be content To thrust the twelve dayes into Lent. You Englands custome, wake from sleepe, Which all the Christian world still keepe: For which may you thus stor'd with guests Long celebrate these annuall feasts, That you and your good Lady may Together, many a New-yeares day, Rejoyce in your blest Issue till The houres shall faile, and time stand still.

A speech spoken before the right Honourable the Earle of Dover, at his House at Hunsden, as a preparation to a Maske, which consisted of nine Ladyes. Presented the last New-yeares night.

The silver Swan soft gliding in the streame, Cald to the Cocke then pearching on a beame, And said to him; why, Chanticleere, when I Move on the waves so low, thou sit'st so high? The Cocke replide: O thou my best lov'd Sister Well knowne in Poe, Meander, and Caister, But, best in Thamesis; Dost thou not know The reason, why we in December crow? More than before, or after? who againe Thus answer'd: we of nothing can complaine Being of all the birds that are, most white, Loyall and chaste, and taking our delight In rivers onely, bathing there our feete To make our rare-heard musick sound more sweet. Yet one thing to resolve, would make me proud, To tell why at this time thou sing'st so lowd? Who said: none of our ancestors but knew That ever since Saint Peters Cock first crew, We are injoyn'd to make lowd proclamation, Of our most blessed Saviours Incarnation. ••o which the Swan, (then in a Tone much higher)

Said, in this Caroll I will fill the quire: Which being voyc't, did sound so sweet and shrill, That where the Swan and Cock were heard, did fill The ayre with such an eccho, thither came Vpon that summons, both the blind and lame, Hungry and thirsty, poore, of all estates, And none but fully sated at these gates. Long may your bounty last, and we rejoyce, To heare both City and the Country voyce Your Hospitality, to your loud fame, Whilst Time indures, or Christmas beares a name. And now great Lord and Lady both prepare, To know what Sports in agitation are.

Truth presenting the Maskers.

Plaine Truth who onely hath the power To steare the way to vertues bower, By these cleare Tapers shining bright, Doth celebrate this joviall night. But by the Bird of Mars that crowes, I now perceive the morning growes. Her love to Phoebus to expresse, And put his steeds in glorious dresse Who shewes you what chaste virgins dwell, Within the bosome of this Cell, Appeare then O thou treble Trine Of number, with the Muses nine. (Appolloes sacred daughters) still Frequent about Pernassus hill. Or if you number them by Threes, The first are the three Charitces, Handmaides to Venus, Graces stil'd, On whom their Father Iove still smil'd. The second Chorus doth containe Those beauties, by the Trojan swaine On Ida judg'd: The third we call The Vertues Theologicall,

Faith, Hope, and Love, haply meet here, To crowne the parting of the yeare, With Roses fresh of Swan-like hew, Which from a royall Stemme first grew, And the brave Yorkists long since bore, These vertues bower, doe best decore, Flowers redolent, which Heralds say, Ianus doth weare, as well as May. Farre may they spread, be ever seene, With milke white leaves, and branches greene, Folded in amorous twines together, Which Winter ne're may blast or wither.

A young witty Lad playing the part of Richard the third: at the Red Bull: the Author because hee was interessed in the Play to incourage him, wrot him this Prologue and Epilogue. The Boy the Speaker.

If any wonder by what magick charme, Richard the third is shrunke up like his arme: And where in fulnesse you expected him, You see me onely crawling, like a limme Or piece of that knowne fabrick, and no more, (When he so often hath beene view'd before.) Let all such know: a Rundlet ne're so small ••s call'd a vessell: being a Tunne; that's all. Hee's tearm'd a man, that showes a dwarfish thing, No more's the Guard, or Porter to the King. ••o Pictures in small compasse I have seene Drawne to the life, as neare, as those have beene Ten times their bignesse: Christenmas loaves are bread, So's your least Manchet: have you never read Large folio Sheets which Printers over-looke, And cast in small, to make a pocket booke? ••o Richard is transform'd: if this disguise ••how me so small a letter for your eyes,

You cannot in this letter read me plaine, Hee'l next appeare, in texted hand againe.

The Epilogue.

Great I confesse your patience hath now beene, To see a little Richard: who can win, Or praise, or credit? eye, or thinke to excell, By doing after what was done so well? It was not my ambition to compare, No envie, or detraction: such things are In men of more growne livers, greater spleene, But in such lads as I am, seldome seene. I doe, but like a child, who sees one swim, And (glad to learne) will venter after him Though he be soundly duckt for't, or to tell My mind more plainely, one that faine would spell, In hope to read more perfect: all the gaines I expect for these unprofitable paines, Is, that you would at parting from this place Doe but unto my littlenesse that grace To spie my worth, as I have seene dimme eyes To looke through spectacles, or perspectives, That in your gracious view I may appeare, Of small, more great; of coming far off, neare.

A Prologue to the Play of Queene Elizabeth as it was last revived at the Cock-pit, in which the Author taxeth the most corrupted copynow im∣printed, which was published without his consent. I rologue.

Playes have a fate in their conception lent, Some so short liv'd, no sooner shew'd, than spent; But borne to day, to morrow buried, and Though taught to speake, neither to goe nor stand. This: (by what fare I know not) sure no merit, That it disclaimes, may for the age inherit.

Writing 'bove one and twenty; but ill nurst, And yet receiv'd, as well perform'd at first, Grac't and frequented, for the cradle age, Did throng the Seates, the Boxes, and the Stage So much; that some by Stenography drew The plot: put it in print: (scarce one word trew:) And in that lamenesse it hath limp't so long, The Author now to vindicate that wrong Hath tooke the paines, upright upon its feete To teach it walke, so please you sit, and see't.

Epilogue.

The Princesse young Elizabeth y'have seene In her minority, and since a Queene. A Subject, and a Soveraigne: in th' one A pittied Lady: in the royall Throne A potent Queene. It now in you doth rest To know, in which she hath demeand her best.

Vpon his Majesties last birth-night, he being then thirty five yeares of age, and the Queene great with child.

A Star appearing of bright constellation, More luminous than those of the same station, The powers Coelestiall much amaz'd there at To knovv the cause thereof, in Councell sate, And summond Mercury the winged god To search and find what wonder it might bode, Who brought them word that Lachesis then drew A thread from Clothoes distaffe, which to' his view Was of such splendor, and withall so fine, The substance gold) and of so close a twine, No edge could sunder, and that Star (so bright) Rose five and thirty yeares since, as this night. You are (if time we may compute) by story In the meridian of your age and glory. Your Cynthia too that shines by you so neare, And now with such rare splendor fills her sphere,

Whose birth-dayes almost meete, as if that fate Would adde a double lustre to your state. Never may your two golden threds be spun. Whilst the Moone guides the night, or day the Sun.

Epilogue.

What Muse so mute, but both with voice and strings Will strive to celebrate the births of Kings. Kings birth-dayes, of such goodnesse and renowne. Ceres should fill with plenty, Bacchus Crowne. Mirth should exceed it's limite, Ioyes abound, And (after praise to heaven giv'n) Healths go round. No other language then let this night coyne, But Vive, vive la Roy, vive la Royne.

Spoken to the Palsgrave at his first comming over, in the presence of his Majesty, &c.

The bright hayr'd Comets are of all the best, Boading most good, when ayming towards the West. (So Astrologians say) and when such shine, Grosse clowds they scatter, and the ayre refine. Now such an one appeares; a glorious thing, As if the Eagle from her spatious wing Had her prime feather dropt, which to regaine, She (almost) would give Almaigne, Rome, and Spaine. A feather to be stuck in Venus fanne. The like to it, not Iunoes Peacock can In all her moon'd traine boast: may your fame flie, Mounted upon those plumes that soare most hie: Of which, make two rare presidents, We intreat, One of Charles little, th' other Charles the Great.

Epilogus.

A numerous fruit, sprung from a golden Tree, Such (as old Atlas, was ne're-seene by thee

In thine Hesperian orchard) long t' indure And prosper in the world: now growes mature. And the faire blossoms ready even to spread Their leaves abroad, and top the Eagles Head (The Roote still safe) where-ever shall bee seene Scient, transplanted, may it still grow greene, So may none issuing from King Iames his Stemme, But be thought fit to weare a Diadem. Would you a president by which to steare So faire a course? you may behold it here. If you to Honours Apex would attaine, Let the bright Starres that guide you be Charles waine.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Meaning their 2. Majesties.