Poems, by J.D. VVith elegies on the authors death

About this Item

Title
Poems, by J.D. VVith elegies on the authors death
Author
Donne, John, 1572-1631.
Publication
London :: Printed by M[iles] F[lesher] for Iohn Marriot, and are to be sold at his shop in St Dunstans Church-yard in Fleet-street,
1633.
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Link to this Item
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A69225.0001.001
Cite this Item
"Poems, by J.D. VVith elegies on the authors death." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A69225.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 14, 2024.

Pages

EPIGRAMS.

Hero and Leander.

BOth rob'd of aire, we both lye in one ground, Both whom one fire had burnt, one water drownd.

Pyramus and Thisbe.

Two, by themselves, each other, love and feare Slaine, cruell friends, by parting have joyn'd here.

Niobe.

By childrens births, and death, I am become So dry, that I am now mine owne sad tombe.

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A burnt ship.

Out of a fired ship, which, by no way But drowning, could be rescued from the flame, Some men leap'd forth, and ever as they came Neere the foes ships, did by their shot decay; So all were lost, which in the ship were found, They in the sea being burnt, they in the burnt ship drown'd.

Fall of a wall.

Under an undermin'd, and shot-bruis'd wall A too-bold Captaine perish'd by the fall, Whose brave misfortune, happiest men envi'd, That had a towne for tombe, his bones to hide.

A lame begger.

I am unable, yonder begger cries, To stand, or moue; if he say true, hee lies.

A selfe accuser.

Your mistris, that you follow whores, still taxeth you: 'Tis strange that she should thus confesse it, though'it be true.

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A licentious person.

Thy sinnes and haires may no man equall call, For, as thy sinnes increase, thy haires doe fall.

Antiquary.

If in his Studie he hath so much care To'hang all old strange things, let his wife beware.

Disinherited.

Thy father all from thee, by his last Will Gave to the poore; Thou hast good title still,

Phryne.

Thy flattering picture, Phryne, is like thee, Onely in this, that you both painted be.

An obscure writer.

Philo, with twelve yeares study, hath beene griev'd, To'be understood, when will hee be beleev'd.
Klockius so deeply hath sworne, ne'r more to come In bawdie house, that hee dares not goe home.

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Raderus.

Why this man gelded Martiall I muse, Except himselfe alone his tricks would use, As Katherine, for the Courts sake, put downe Stewes.

Mercurlus Gallo-Belgicus.

Like Esops fellow-slaves, O Mercury, Which could do all things, thy faith is; and I Like Esops selfe, which nothing; I confesse I should have had more faith, if thou hadst lesse; Thy credit lost thy credit: 'Tis sinne to doe, In this case, as thou wouldst be done unto, To beleeve all: Change thy name: thou art like Mercury in stealing, but lyest like a Greeke.
Compassion in the world againe is bred: Ralphius is sick, the broker keeps his bed.
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