That so much scarf of France, and hat, and feather,
And shoe, and tye, and garter, should come hither,
And land on one whose face durst never be
Toward the sea, farther than half-way tree?3
That he, untravell'd, should be French so much,
As Frenchmen in his company should seem Dutch?
Or had his father, when he did him get,

The French disease, with which he labours yet?
Or hung some Monsieur's picture on the wall,
By which his dam conceived him, clothes and all?
Or is it some French statue? no: 't doth move,
And stoop, and cringe. O then, it needs must prove
The new French tailor's motion, monthly made,
Daily to turn in Paul's, and help the trade.

LXXXIX.

TO EDWARD ALLEN.1

F Rome so great, and in her wisest age, Fear'd not to boast the glories of her stage, As skilful Roscius, and grave Æsop, men, Yet crown'd with honours, as with riches, then; Who had no less a trumpet of their name, Than Cicero, whose every breath was fame:

were synonymous in Jonson's age, and perhaps have been so in every age since. WHAL.

3 Farther than half-way tree.] In the way to Dover, in the poet's time, 'tis probable some remarkable tree might be standing in the road about half way thither. WHAL.

To Edward Allen.] The fame of this celebrated actor yet lives in these verses of our author, and in those of his contemporary poets: but a more durable monument of his name and goodness, is existing in Dulwich-college, near London, of which he was the munificent and pious founder. WHAL.

Two things may be collected from this excellent epigram, first, that Jonson had other acquaintance on the stage than Shakspeare, and secondly, that when he spoke of "some better natures among

How can so great example die in me,
That, Allen, I should pause to publish thee?
Who both their graces in thy self hast more
Out-stript, than they did all that went before:
And present worth in all dost so contract,
As others speak, but only thou dost act.
Wear this renown. 'Tis just, that who did give
So many poets life, by one should live.

XC.

ON MILL, MY LADY'S WOMAN.

HEN Mill first came to court, th' unprofiting
fool,

Unworthy such a mistress, such a school,
Was dull, and long ere she would go to man:
At last, ease, appetite, and example wan
The nicer thing to taste her lady's page;
And, finding good security in his age,
Went on and proving him still day by day,
Discern'd no difference of his years, or play.

Not though that hair grew brown, which once was
amber,

And he, grown youth, was call'd to his lady's chamber;
Still Mill continued: nay, his face growing worse,
And he removed to gentleman of the horse,

the players, who had been drawn in to abuse him," he did not, as Messrs. Steevens and Malone are pleased to suggest, necessarily mean that great poet.

Hurd has two or three pages of vapid pomposity, to prove that doctus, applied, by Horace, to Roscius, ought to be translated skilful, and not learned. Jonson, who had ten times Hurd's learning, without a tithe of his pedantry, had done it in one word. Of this, however, no notice is taken! The verse which Jonson had in view, is in the Epistle to Augustus :

Quæ gravis Esopus, quæ doctus Roscius egit.

1

Mill was the same. Since, both his body and face
Blown up; and he (too unwieldy for that place)
Hath got the steward's chair; he will not tarry
Longer a day, but with his Mill will marry:
And it is hop'd, that she, like Milo, wull
First bearing him a calf, bear him a bull.

XCI.

TO SIR HORACE VERE,5

HICH of thy names I take, not only bears
A Roman sound, but Roman virtue wears,
Illustrious Vere, or Horace; fit to be

Sung by a Horace, or a Muse as free;

Which thou art to thyself: whose fame was won In the eye of Europe, where thy deeds were done, When on thy trumpet she did sound a blast, Whose relish to eternity shall last.

I leave thy acts, which should I prosecute Throughout, might flattery seem; and to be mute

5 To sir Horace Vere.] He was created lord Tilbury, and was the famous general in the Low Country wars in the reign of queen Elizabeth. Many of the nobility at that time served under him. WHAL.

Sir Horace was grandson of John Vere, fifteenth earl of Oxford. He was a celebrated warrior, as well as his elder brother, sir Francis. Fuller, in his quaint but forcible manner, says, that "he had more meekness, and as much valour as his brother; so pious, that he first made his peace with God before he went out to war with man."

Rowland Whyte (in a letter to the earl of Shrewsbury, dated Court, 7th Nov. 1607,) says, "sir Horacio Vere shall marry wthin these eight days, one Mrs. Hoby, a widdow, sister to sir John Tracey; a fine, comely, well graced gentelwoman." To this lady, who outlived sir Horace nearly forty years, the Parliament confided the care of the younger children of their unfortunate sovereign. They could not be in better hands, for she was "a person of excellent character." Sir Horace was created Lord Vere of Tilbury in 1625, being, as Fuller says, the first baron made by Charles I.

8

To any one, were envy; which would live
Against my grave, and time could not forgive.
I speak thy other graces, not less shown,

Nor less in practice; but less mark'd, less known :
Humanity, and piety, which are

As noble in great chiefs, as they are rare;

And best become the valiant man to wear,

Who more should seek men's reverence, than fear.

XCII.

THE NEW CRY.

RE cherries ripe! and strawberries! be gone;
Unto the cries of London I'll add one.

Ripe statesmen, ripe! they grow in every

street;

At six and twenty, ripe. You shall them meet,
And have them yield no savour, but of state.
Ripe are their ruffs, their cuffs, their beards, their gait,
And grave as ripe, like mellow as their faces.
They know the states of Christendom, not the places;
Yet they have seen the maps, and bought 'em too,
And understand them, as most chapmen do.
The councils, projects, practices they know,
And what each prince doth for intelligence owe,

And unto whom; they are the almanacks,

For twelve years yet to come, what each state lacks. They carry in their pockets Tacitus,

And the Gazetti, or Gallo-Belgicus;

And talk reserv'd, lock'd up, and full of fear,
Nay, ask you, how the day goes, in your ear;

Keep a Star-chamber sentence close twelve days,
And whisper what a Proclamation says.
They meet in sixes, and at every mart,

Are sure to con the catalogue by heart;

Or every day, some one at Rimee's looks,
Or Bill's, and there he buys the names of books.
They all get Porta, for the sundry ways
To write in cipher, and the several keys,
To ope the character; they've found the slight
With juice of limons, onions, piss, to write;

To break up seals, and close them: and they know,
If the States make [not] peace, how it will go
With England. All forbidden books they get,
And of the powder-plot, they will talk yet:
At naming the French king their heads they shake,
And at the Pope and Spain slight faces make;
Or 'gainst the bishops, for the brethren rail,
Much like those brethren; thinking to prevail
With ignorance on us, as they have done
On them and therefore do not only shun
Others more modest, but contemn us too,
That know not so much state, wrong, as they do.

XCIII.

TO SIR JOHN RADCLIFFE.

OW like a column, Radcliffe, left alone' For the great mark of virtue, those being gone Who did, alike with thee, thy house up-bear, Stand'st thou, to shew the times what you all were?

6 Some one at Rimee's looks,

Or Bill's

They all get Porta.] The two first were booksellers in that age: the last was the famous Neapolitan, Johannes Baptista Porta, who has a treatise extant in Latin, De furtivis literarum notis, vulgo de Ziferis, printed at Naples 1563. He died 1615. WHAL.

7 How like a column, Radcliffe, &c.] This epigram (a very admirable one) is addressed to the surviving brother of Margaret Radcliffe. (See Epig. xl.) It undoubtedly furnished Edwards with the model for his affecting sonnet, On a Family Picture, which