Parnassus biceps. Or Severall choice pieces of poetry, composed by the best wits that were in both the universities before their dissolution. With an epistle in the behalfe of those now doubly secluded and sequestred Members, by one who himselfe is none.

On the death of Sir Tho: Pelham.

MEerely for death to grieve and mourne Were to repine that man was borne. When weak old age doth fall asleep 'Twere foul ingratitude to weep. Those threds alone should force out tears Whose suddain crack breaks off some years. Here 'tis not so, full distance here Sunders the cradle from the beere. A fellow-traveller he hath bin So long with time, so worn to'th skin, That were it not just now bereft His body first the soule had left. Threescore and ten is natures date, Our journey when we come in late: Beyond that time the overplus Was granted not to him, but us.

For his own sake the Sun ne're stood, But onely for the peoples good: Even so he was held out by aire Which poor men uttered in their prayer: And as his goods were lent to give, So were his dayes that they might live. So ten years more to him were told Enough to make another old: Oh that death would still doe so, Or else on goodmen would bestow That wast of years which unthrifts fling Away by their distempering. That some might thrive by this decay As well as that of land and clay. Twas now well done: no cause to mourne On such a seasonable stone; Where death is but a guest, we sinne Not bidding welcome to his Inne. Sleep, sleep, goodman, thy rest embrace, Sleep, sleep, th'ast trod a weary race.