Honour and vertue, triumphing over the grave Exemplified in a faire devout life, and death, adorned with the surviving perfections of Edward Lord Stafford, lately deceased; the last baron of that illustrious family: which honour in him ended with as great lustre as the sunne sets within a serene skye. A treatise so written, that it is as well applicative to all of noble extraction, as to him, and wherein are handled all the requisites of honour, together with the greatest morall, and divine vertues, and commended to the practise of the noble prudent reader. By Anth. Stafford his most humble kinsman. This worke is much embelish'd by the addition of many most elegant elegies penned by the most accute wits of these times.

Vpon the Death of the most hopefull the Lord STAFFORD.

MVst then our Loves be short still? Must we choose Not to enjoy? onely admire, and loose? Must Axioms hence grow sadly understood, And we thus see, 'Tis dangerous to be good? So Bookes begunne are broken off, and we Receive a fragment for an History; And, as'twere present wealth, what was but debt, Lose that, of which we were not Owners yet; But as in bookes, that want the closing line, We onely can conjecture, and repine: So must we heere too onely grieve, and guesse, And by our fancy make, what's wanting, lesse. Thus when rich webs are left unfinished, The Spider doth supply them with her thred. For tell me what addition can be wrought To him, whose Youth was even the bound of thought;

Whose buddings did deserve the Robe, whiles we In smoothnesse did the deeds of wrinckles see: When his state-nonage might have beene thought fit, To breake the custome, and allow'd to sit? His actions veil'd his age, and could not stay For that which we call ripenesse, and just day. Others may waite the staffe, and the gray-haire, And call that Wisedome, which is onely Feare, Christen a coldnesse, temp'rance, and then boast Full and Ripe Vertue, when all action's lost: This is not to be noble, but be slacke: A Stafford ne're was good by th' Almanacke. He, who thus stayes the season, and expects, Doth not gaine habits, but disguise defects. Heere Nature outstrips Culture: He came try'd; Strait of himselfe at first, not rectifi'd: Manners so pleasing, and so handsome cast, That still that overcame, that was shewne last: All mindes were captiv'd thence, as if 't had beene The same to him, to have beene lov'd, and seene. Had he not bin snatchd thus, what drive hearts now Into his nets, would have driven Cities too: For these his Essaies, which began to win, Were but bright sparkes, which shew'd the Mine within, Rude draughts unto the picture; things we may Stile the first beames of the encreasing day; Which did but onely great discoveries bring, As outward coolenesse shewes the inward spring. Nor were his actions, to content the sight, Like Artists Pieces, plac'd in a good light, That they might take at distance, and obtrude Something unto the eye that might delude:

His deeds did all, most perfect then appeare, When you observ'd, view'd close, and did stand neere. For could there ought else spring from him, whose line From which he sprung, was rule, & discipline, Whose Vertues were as Bookes before him set, So that they did instruct, who did beget, Taught thence not to be powerfull, but know, Shewing he was their blood by living so. For, whereas some are by their bigge lippe knowne, Others b' imprinted, burning swords were showne: So they by great deeds are, from which bright fame, Engraves free reputation on their name: These are their Native markes, and it hath bin The Staffords lot, to have their signes within. And though this firme Hereditary good, Might boasted be, as flowing with the blood, Yet he nere graspt this stay: But as those, who Carry perfumes about them still, scarce doe Themselves perceive them, though anothers sense Sucke in th' exhaling odours: so he thence Ne'r did perceive he carry'd this good smell, But made new still by doing himselfe well. T' embalme him then is vaine, where spreading fame Supplies the want of spices; where the Name, It selfe preserving, may for Ointments passe: And he, still seene, lye coffind as in glasse. Whiles thus his bud dims full flowres, and his sole. Beginning doth reproach anothers whole, Comming so perfect up, that there must needes Have beene found out new Titles for new deeds; Though youth, and lawes forbid, which will not let Statues be rais'd, or him stand Brasen: yet

Our mindes retaine this Royalty of Kings, Not to be bound to time, but judge of things, And worship, as they merit: there we doe Place him at height, and he stands golden too. A comfort, but not equall to the crosse, A saire remainder, but not like the losse: For he, that last pledge, being gone, we doe Not onely lose the Heire, but th' honour too. Set we up then this boast against our wrong, He left no other signe, that he was young: And, spight of fate, his living vertues will, Though he be dead, keepe up the Barony still.

Will. Cartwright.