Nympha libethris, or, The Cotswold muse presenting some extempore verses to the imitation of yong [sic] scholars : in four parts.

SECOND PART.

I. To Mr. Fra. Powell of Ch. Ch.

FRanc, I was writing to you, and bit my pen, And scratcht too for a Verse, once and agen: But then my tender Muse told me, she knew, You were too much a Critic, and withdrew.

II. The Muse craves entertainment.

GEntlemen, I have travell'd far; and now, Some Bonus Genius guided me to you: I doe not come, to put you to much cost, Provide for me, neither your bak't nor rost. Give leave to rest my ••eet, weary and bare; A hard Bed contents me, and harder Fare.

III. Cornelia Mother to the Gracchi, è Jul. Scaligero.

SCipio me genuit; genui Cornelia Gracchos: Quid mirum est, genitam fulmine ferre faces!

Scipio got me, I Graccbies bare. No wonder: If fi••y brands came from One begot of Thunder.

IV. To Mris. Jane Commelin, upon the birth of her second Daughter, at the buriall of the first.

COsin, See what reward from Heav'n you have! So soon as your lov'd Daughter was i'th' Grave, Whom God took from you, for Correction Of your excessive love; a resurrection, To recompence your patience, from the Tombe Is g••anted her, thorough your fruitfull wombe. You may conceive, that as the languisht here, She, by degree, did take a new growth there. Nor need you call this child another name; But fansy it to be the the very same.

So, when you pluck a fresh Rose; where it stood, There presently springs up a second Bud.

V. To Dr. Rogers Canon of Hereford, at his first Residence.

THe Persian Magi, to the new born King, Present their Gold, as the first offering: Duty commands me, give somewhat of mine To our new born Canonical Devine. 'Tis a small piece. Had I the rich mans store, My learned Doctor, I would give you more. I'd give you as large presents, as the rest, Whom you now entertain at your Great Feast: Not so great as your lectures. We had in Them, Dainties from Athens and Jerusalem.

VI. A new years Gift to Dr. Bosworth, Physician of Hereford.

DOctor, This is the only piece of Gold, Brought me this good Time. Gratitude grows old, And fa••nt, in Schollers. No reward hath He, That is an Informator of School-free. Nay, which is more: In all my Parish, none Hath vouchsalt me a Church-oblation. Did I perhaps a School unlincens'd teach; Or some new lecture to the people preach; I should then at their Feasts, my fingers lick, Have Gold in purse, and Cassok wear of silk. Be it as 'tis. You will this Fee approve, In stead of more Gold, a true Golden Love.

VII. A present to an oblivious Friend.

DEar Sir, Two new books of the same I send, That when, as you are wont, the One you lend, T'other may constantly upon you wait, As Monitor, lest you forget me strait.

VIII. To the same.

I Understand, 'tis somewhat grievious, That my rude Muse cald you Oblivious; Frown not, my Friend, your Mem'ry I will spare; If, at my need, mine your Aff••ctions are. I give you leave never to think on me, Till, by some Office, you may usefull be. 'Tis not the oft Remembrance shews a friend, But friendly Office. So let the Quarrel end.

IX. To one that lov'd not Verses.

WHen, with ingenuous freedome, I rehearse My, not amorous nor fair, yet comely Verse: With wrinckled face, thou cry'st out, Vanitie! Now prithee, what is all that's done by thee?

X. Upon his seven Children: two Girls dead, one alive, and four Boyes.

THe divine Goodnesse! which I have often try'd; A pair to seven is quickly multiply'd. Two that were wisest, quickly made return, (Pardon me this one te••••, fals on their Urn:) The female remanent, with observant eye, I'd have to learn her Mothers hu••wifry. To the four boyes, I'd leave th••s ••egacie, (God giving) my Arts and Theologie. If I can breed them Scholars, there is none Can say, I gave them not a portion. In ••he meane time, I heartly wish, The Quorum Would grant me, but Jus trium liberorum.

XI. On the Death of Mr. Fr. Pink.

ARe thy eyes clos'd, my learned Oculist, And t••y clear light extinguished? What, i'st No herb, within thy spacious knowledge, can Cur•• th•• D••se••se of the Physician? I know wha•• shut thine e••es; thine eyes did see Much wh••ch thou wou••dst ••••t: And thy Grief For publick Evils, weighed down thy life.

Goe, and find Simples now, (untill we come And meet there,) i'th' Groves of Elizium.

XII. To Dr. Charlton.

BRother, Thy Helmont's deep mysterious Art I will not censure. But, in every part, I saw such wit, and bright new language shine, Without the Title, soon I judg'd it Thine. One thing I blam▪d (yet I know 'twas well meant) With too la••ge an Elogium it was sent.

XIII. Upon Dr. Croft, Dean of Hereford, his first Residence.

THe people lookt for their good chear and wine, According to th' old Custome: By a fine Devise you doe ev••de (though the sad days May well excuse not feasting, many wa••s) You, in your Grave and learned l••ct••res▪ bring, To feast us, Great Melc••iz••dec the Ki••g; Your Auditors, intent on you, still seed; And taste t••e wine, He brought for Abrams need: This when the Townsmen heard th•• ••hu••ch-••en say, They envyed our good chear and went their way.

XIV. To Sir William Croft, with Thuani P••incipes.

WIse Sir, when I considered, how I might Th••nk you for th•• Letter you were pleas'd to write,

In favour of me, to that Prelate, who Thinks it reward enough of Good, to do: This Manuscript was ••eady at commmand, And all my Princes haste to kisse your hand: Here you have divers Knights and Prelates too, Some few like Him, and fewer such as you.

XV. Vpon Dr. Brown Dean of Hereford, Preaching.

YOnder he is▪ prepare and purge your care; You shall a Chrysostom or Ambrose hear; With heavenly st••eins of divine Nazianz••n: Such voice, such stile, such gesture as those Men, (We believe) us'd, when in their Homili••s, They drew so many Tear•• from sinners eyes: Not more than This, by his sad sacred Theme Of De profundis, and Jerusalem.

XVI. D. M. Godwino, Praelectori Heref.

VIs'n verum? mi Praelector doctissime, vestra Lectura est Clero plurima, nulla poplo.

XVII. Mr. Stephano Philips Praelectori Electo, Paulo ante urbem captum. 1645.

AHduros hostes▪ tua quod Facundia mollis, Quam vota exposcunt nostra, reclusa fuit.

XVIII. To Mr. John Beale.

YOu that have read Socinus, Crellius, And the Interpreter Volkelius, Yet to the English Church have giv'n your name, Led by a discreet judgement; not by fame, Or 'cause you knew no other, from your Youth Bred up in this: They that embrace the Truth, On such weak Gr••unds, are still in error: Friend, I call you without scruple, without end: Nor w••ll I care for their unlearned mocks, That, beside Calvin, think nought Orthodox. I mention Him not for dishonour, but I think all Truth was not in one braine shut.

XIX. To the religious pair of widows Mris. P. Green, and Mris. M. Russel, with the La. Falklands life.

I Know, when you have once perused it, You must confesse the Book a present fit. This Lady was compos'd of Alms and Pray'r: You live in Imitat••on of Her. Truly Religious, yet was she timorous too: In this is no disparity: so are you. By advise of Holy men, she still o'recame Her feares and scruples: Doe not you the same? She dyed with comfort, partakes heavenly joy: That you may do so too, at last, I pray.

XX. To Dr. Warren, with return of his Henry. VIII.

THe Book you lent, writ by Cherbery's Lord, Much satisfaction did me affoord: I now am more in love with that brave Prince, Since we receiv'd this true Intelligence. This Author gives, not the reports of Fame, But the Records. Therefore record his Name. All Pamphlets that have blurd this King, are not, Compar'd to this Work, worth an old Harry groat.

XXI. An Apology, for naming some Honou∣rable and Reverend persons, in his verses.

BUt, now I think on't, I'l make no excuse, For that some honourable names I use In my poor Rimes. 'Tis a small fault, in an Age, So many Great Ones are hist off the Stage. People are bold: yet presume would not I, To name them, but in honor to their Memory.

XXII. Vpon a new Book of justification, promised by my L. C.

MAdam, you promis'd, and I did believe, After y'had read the Book, you would it give. I heard you left it for me: and I doe, With a most easy Faith, believe that too. It met with some deceitfull hand, I fear; His faith will never justifie, I'l swear.

XXIII. Upon Verses made in his sleep.

ME thought, I said, They are very well, and so! They shall continue. Then I wak't, and, O! I cry'd They vanish! where d'ye take your flight! Stay! Now I have them. Now th' are out of sight. A while they doe thus on my Fansy wave: A piece or two, but now; now, none I have. Waking, I never shall recover them. Once more I'l sleep: They'l come, as they did come before.

XXIV. Upon Zuinglius. è Thuani Elogiis.

ZƲinglius was slain i'th' Front, my Author saith; A stout Defender of Reformed Faith. God took his soule: His Body, th' enemies Ire Consumed, as hereticail, with fire; All, but his Heart. His hearty Faith, his name, And pious Memory, dye not in the flame.

XXV. Vpon Luther. ex eodem.

HE dy'd not borribly, as the Papists say; But, in a quiet manner, went away To a better life: And, but the Night before, To his friend Justus Jonas, and some moro, D••scours'd of life eternall. Where, saith He, I nothing doubt, again I shall you see. Being dead, Two Princes for his Body strave, And carryed him with honour to the Grave.

XXVI. On the Snow, on Newyears day.

SUre the celestiall Swan, to make a Feast, Is pluck't this Morne, for Jupiter and the rest Of's company. None of the flesh is meant For us; only he hath the ••eather sent. Good Omen! though the Token be but light: The following year shall not be black, but white.

XXVII. To Mr. Tho: Williams, at the ••emple.

SIr, if my Muse come 'fore the Terme's begun, And can get leave o•• Cook and Littleton, To speak with you, but a few minutes, know, Here are in Cotswold, those th••t think on you. And so we shall, as long as air, we draw, 'Cause in our Cases, you give us the Law.

XXVIII. To Mr. Ant: Stratford.

YOu, who are ready, both to gac, and ride; And spea••, ••nd doe for me; I must not hide, Nor y••ur Love, nor my Gratitude; but here I fix it, though but in a little sphere.

XXIX. M. Georgio Stratford T. B. CCC.

SI fortè Oxoniae Musam Tu videris alma Errantem, hospitio suscipe, Amice, tuo.

Auribus indigna est vestris? Ignoscite; nostra (Non vobis) pueris rustica Musa canit.

XXX. Mr. R. Samasio, CCC.

QVando immemor sui, Tu meministi mei; Et me suavi alloquio tenuisti Tuo: Ipse igitur immemor, mi Samasi, Tui Non sum, Mei nunc memor; at nec vivens ero.

XXX. To Mr. Fra. Thorne.

COsin, I thanke you, you did send to Me, Shoulder and Ʋmbles fat, the Keepers Fee: That I who daily live by my Lords meat, Might sometime some of Sudeley Venson eate. One favour more I pray doe not deny, Now 'tis well bak'd, come and take part o'th' pye.

XXXII. To Mr. Tho. Bridges.

SIr, in your last sweet Letter, you did tell, My Lady hath been ill. Whence, She is well, By an easy Figure I collect, and p••ay, At due time, she an Heir, and with him joy, May bring her noble Lord, and Ours. But then You goe on, and are pleas'd to say, My pen You honour. So you doe indeed, when thus, Out of your Courtesie, you Answer us. I wish, such praise to my poor pen were due, That it might worthy be, to serve and honour you. Your Book shall be return'd which you sent white, Blur'd with some Notes, se'ing you force me to write.

XXXIII. To Mr. Powell for the fair wax-light he sent me.

A Welcome token! Since, in the Holy Quire, I fill'd one Stall, at the harmonious Prayr, I have not seen the like. This I shall use, Not for to fire my pipe, nor yet to choose My morsels. But, when, like the laboring Bee, I view my learned Autho••s, and would see To gather Hony from them, then your wax Shall gild my si••ent Night. Now, lest you tax Me for ungratefull, I this paper write, A light requitall, for your better light.

XXXIV. To Mris. Sufanna Charlton, On the death of her Mother, May, 23. 1649.

THe sun was at his Rise, and did begin To gi••d the earth, when that pure soule, kept in Her mortail case by Nights cold hand, her strength Put forth, and raising up her self at leng••h Took flight to heav'n: Heav'n, a far fitter place For soules indued with celesta••l Grace. And will you weep, now ••he ••s happy? will You envy heav'n that new-come star? and still Deject your m••urnfull eye to earth, as if There were no other but this dying life! But you have lost her Company: You know A way to find her out again, and so Revi••e your Conversation. 'Tis this; Let your Thoughts dwell in heav'n for there she is.

XXXV. To Mr. William Burton, upon his Clemens Rom.

WIll, I receiv'd the Title of your Book, And for the Book it self I long did look. Why sent you 't not? Unlesse you think indeed, That I, not Books, but only litles read. Well, though I purchas'd it, at a dead lift, For mony, I will set it down, Thy Gift. And, for Names sake, though he a Bishop be, Yet I will much esteem him, and for Thee.

XXXVI. In morte Gulielmi Fratris.

CƲr adco (quaeris) libet indulgere dolori? Est mortuus uno funere Frater-Pater.

XXXVII. Grotius de verit. Relig. Englished. To John and Richard Hows,

COsins, I will deale plainly, some doe say; Because they are so loth their Tith to pay, Our Yeomen sure think not Religion true: (Although this Crime I don't impute to you:) This Book, though written in a higher strain, Than what they use to read, doth not disdain It self to offer to their rougher hands Entreating gentle usage; and commands, By strong••st Reasons, They henceforth believe There is a God, and so no longer grieve His servants, and deny their old Rewards: Themselves shall gain by it: if they cast their cards

Rightly; Gaine, what they love with all their heart, Good Harvests, when the Parson hath his part

XXXVIII. To a Gentlewoman, with Dr. Featly's Handmaid.

A Handmaid I present to wait on you: Accept her to you•• service; and with true Devotion serve your God. His service is Our freedome: His Reward will be our blisse. Your piety hath a p••esent fit: If small; Know, He that sent you This, would give you All.

XXXIX. Of Beauty.

IN love, if I doe rightly measure it, That is most beautifull that is most sit. Why else would lusty Jack, 'fore every one Of the fair Ladies, prefer homely ••one?

XL. Upon Dido. Ausonii.

INfelix Dido, nulli bene nupta marito! Hoc pereunte fugis, hoc fugiente peris.

Wife, twice unhappy in thy Genial Bed! Thou fled'st when one dy'd: Dyd'st when th' other fled.

XLI. Upon the Histories of the late Wars.

AS the Armies did against each other fight; Even so doe our moderne Historians write: Each for his side. The Stationer says, Buy both: Compare them, and you may pick out the Truth.

XLII. To Mr. Savage.

SIr, Though your Name be noble, yet your parts Make you more noble, Your ingenious Arts, Your piety, your liberality, And (though now private) Hospitality. Before the late Decay, (if that I can Judge right) such was the English Gentleman.

XLIII. To Mr. Edward Carew.

I Think upon, what once I heard you tell, Your new borne Daughter was so extremely well Compos'd and featur'd, that you ne'r did spy So pure a B••auty wi' your impa••tiall eye. But then, you ••aid, within a little space, Was lost and vanisht that exceeding Grace. That Grace, Sir, is not lost: It is retir'd: An dill appear again, when She's a Bride.

Yet if we this observe, 'tis very Right: No credit's to be given at first sight.

XLIV. To Squire Higford, upon his Grandfathers Book.

THe English Gentleman, and the Compleat, I have read long since, but this Book, of your great And l••arned Fat••er, doth surpasse them all; We justly may, Him the Grand-Father call. Precepts, which he so learnedly doth give, And lovingly, How can you choose but live!

XLV. The wolf and the Lamb. Phaedri.

ADrivum eundem lupus & Agnus venerant, Siti compulsi: superior stabat lupus, Longeque inf••ri••r Agnus. Tunc fauce improba Latro in••itatus ••urgi•• causam intulit. Cur, inquit, turbulentam fecisti mihi Aquam bib n••i? Laniger contra timens; Qui possum, quaes••, f••cere quod quereris, Lupe? A te decu••rit ad meos ••austus liquor. Repulsus ille veritatis vi••ibus, Ante hos sex menses, ait, maledixisti mihi. Respondit Agnus: Equidem natus non eram. Pater hercle tuus, inquit, maledixit mihi. Atque it a c••rreptum lacerat injusta nece. "Haec propter illos scripta est homines fabula, "Qui fictis causis innocentes opprimunt.

Upon a time, to one fair stream, The revenous Wolf, and soft Lamb came; Both thirsty. The Wolf, he drank there Above; below, the Lamb drank here.

But when the Thief with's greedy eye The trembling Wool-bearer did spy: Thou art, saith he, in danger brought, Because thou hast disturb'd my draught. He answers meekly; How cann't be? I drink at distance as you see. It was so evident, that thence The Wolf goes, and seeks new pretence. You did revile me with your Tongue Six months agoe. 'Las! not so long Have I liv'd yet. Then 'twas your Dam: And so devours the silly Lamb. "Thus Men, when they oppresse by might "Doe never want pretended Right.

XLVI. The Fox to a head of P••aister. Phaedri.

PErsonam Tragicam fortè vulpes viderat: O quanta species, inquit, cerebrum n••n habet! "Hoc illis dictum, quibus honorem & gloriam "Fortuna tribui••, sensum communem abstulit.

It is a very handsome face and head, thats plain, The Fox said: But where, O where is the brain! "Outward Adornment is not it; "When within is wanting wit.

XLVII. To Mris. Abigail Stratford.

I Once thought it had only a Jest been. That Maids are marriageable at fourteen.

But now I see 'tis Truth. You don't begin, Till July next, your fifteenth yeer: yet in Your person we see fitnesse. Not to seek Your praises from the Latine, or the Greek, Or th' Arts your Father taught: you are grown tall, As is your gentle Mother; and withall, From her assiduous Exemplar, You Discretion have to govern the House too. Phaebus, at your last w••lk, when he well ey'd Your person, said, That Ʋirgin's like a B••ide.

My Muse had d••ne: I w••sht, she had forborn Your Cheek blush't, fair as is the Ro••y morn.

XLVIII. D. Doctori Skynner. Cancell. Heref.

Qui toties mensâ es, toties dignatus amicis Hunc hominem dictis; Nemo alius quoties: Absit, u•• eximum patiar vanescere Nomen, Aut longe distans immemor esse Tui. Inter Amicorum tot nomina (••t grave) Nomen Tu patere, ut prostet, Doctor amice, Tuum.

XLIX. D. D. Wright Doct. Medico.

NOn adeo nostram obscurant oblivia mentem, Quia mem••ni q••an••um debeo, Amice, tibi. Debeo, sed non sum so••v••ndo. Forsitan olim Rem dedero, nunc jam non nisi verba dedi.

L. Mr. Tho. Jamesio Col. O. A.

NOn ubi terrarum legis, Ingeniose Jamesi, Scio: attamen Te esse in libris meis scias. Postremus quanquam legeris Tu carmine nostro; Audi Amicorum non post••emus tamen.

Vpon the new-Printing.

THis Print's so fair and bright, in th' others stead, The Letter now invites and crys, Come, read. My little Boys are so tane w••th't, that They Printers will be and Stationers, they say. I bid them, be good Scholars: To Write well, Is better, than either to Print or Sell.

Conclusion.

JOhnson and Fletcher! Davenant and the rest! Why have you so my Fantasy possest, That I cann't chuse but passe away in Rime, What I must give a strict account for, Time? What should I doe? My Head ak't and about To break, hath much ease gotten, now 'tis Out. Now I am fit, being freed from this short paine, To translate the wise Grotius againe.

Jan. 11.

THE END.