Lapas attēli

Think'st thou it is mere fortune that can win,
Or thy rank setting? that thou dar'st put in
Thy all, at all: and whatsoe'er I do,
Art still at that, and think'st to blow me'
up too?

I cannot for the stage a Drama lay,
Tragic or comic, but thou writ'st the play.
I leave thee there, and giving way, intend
An Epic poem; thou hast the same end.
I modestly quit that, and think to write,
Next morn, an Ode; thou mak'st a' song
ere night.

I pass to Elegies; thou meet'st me there;
To Satires; and thou dost pursue me. Where,
Where shall I scape thee? in an Epigram?
O, thou cry'st out, that is my proper game.
Troth, if it be, I pity thy ill luck,
That both for wit and sense so oft dost

And never art encountered, I confess ;
Nor scarce dost colour for it, which is less.
Prithee yet save thy rest; give o'er in time:
There's no vexation that can make thee



So Phœbus make me worthy of his bays, As but to speak thee, Overbury, is praise: So where thou liv'st thou makʼst life understood,

Where, what makes other great, doth keep thee good!

I think the Fate of court thy coming craved,

1 There's no vexation that can make thee prime.] This is an excellent little poem; the allusion to a set at primero, which pervades the whole of it, is supported with equal spirit and ingenuity.

One of Sir John Harrington's "epigrams," or, as Jonson called them, narrations," contains "the story of Marcus' life at primero." In this the various accidents of the game are detailed with great dulness and prolixity. A short specimen taken at random, will shew how closely our author has kept to the terms of the game.

"But Marcus never can encounter right,

Yet drew two aces, and for further spight Had colour for it, with a hopeful draught, But not encountered,it availed him naught." Sir Thomas Overbury.] This epigram was probably written about 1610, when Sir Thomas returned from his travels, and followed the fortunes of Carr with a zeal and integrity worthy of a better fate. That Sir Thomas was poisoned in the Tower by the infamous Countess of Essex is well known; but it has been, and indeed still may be made a question, whether Carr himself was privy to this atrocious fact. It is said that his opposition to the marriage

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ON THE TOWN'S HONEST MAN. You wonder who this is, and why I name Him not aloud, that boasts so good a fame: Naming so many too! but this is one, Suffers no name, but a description; Being no vicious person, but the Vice About the town; and known too, at that price.

between his friend and the divorced countess made it expedient to remove him from court, and that while Rochester (Carr) intreated the king to bestow an embassy upon him, he secretly instigated Overbury to refuse the charge. It would seem however from Winwood's State Papers (vol. iii. pp. 447, 453, 475,) that the refusal originated with Sir Thomas himself, who was of a lofty and unmanageable spirit. However it might be, James was justly irritated; the destined victim was committed to the Tower, and the catastrophe followed with fatal speed.

Overbury was of an ancient family in Warwickshire. He was born in 1581, came to court to push his fortune in 1604, was knighted in 1608, and died in 1613. He was highly accomplished, and, as Granger truly remarks, was 'possessed of parts, learning, and judgment, beyond his years.

Daughter of that great statesman, Sir Francis Walsingham, many years principal secretary to Queen Elizabeth, and widow of Sir Philip Sidney. Walsingham died poor, so that his daughter, who was also his heiress, brought little to her husband besides her beauty and her virtues. [Walsingham did not die for some years after Sidney.-F. C.]

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And him it lays on; if he be not there.
Tells of him all the tales itself then makes;
But if it shall be questioned, undertakes,
It will deny all; and forswear it too :
Not that it fears, but will not have to do
With such a one: and therein keeps its

"Twill see its sister naked, ere a sword.
At every meal, where it doth dine or sup,
The cloth's no sooner gone, but it gets up,
And shifting of its faces, doth play more
Parts than the Italian could do with his

Acts Old Iniquity, and in the fit

Of miming, gets the opinion of a wit.
Executes men in picture; by defect
From friendship, is its own fame's architect:
An inginer in slanders of all fashions,
That, seeming praises, are yet accusations.
Described it's thus: defined would you it

And those that lacked it, to suspect at length,

'Twas not entailed on title: that some word

Might be found out as good, and not "my lord:"

That Nature no such difference had imprest

In men, but every bravest was the best; That blood not ininds, but minds did blood adorn;

And to live great was better than great born.

These were thy knowing arts: which who doth now

Virtuously practise, must at least allow Them in, if not from thee, or must commit A desperate solœcism in truth and wit.



GROINE, come of age, his state sold out of hand

For's whore: Groyne doth still occupy his land.



GUT eats all day and lechers all the night,
So all his meat he tasteth over twice;
And striving so to double his delight,
He makes himself a thorough-fare of

Then the TOWN'S HONEST MAN's her er- Thus, in his belly, can he change a sin,
Lust it comes out, that gluttony went in.

rant'st knave.

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Not he that flies the court for want of clothes,

At hunting rails, having no gift in oaths, Cries out 'gainst cocking, since he cannot bet,

Shuns press-for two main causes, pox and debt,

many in this age; as they who are acquainted with that Italian called Scoto, yet living, can report." Lib. 1. p. 105. Old Iniquity, means the character called the Vice in our ancient Moralities: it has a place in our author's comedy, The Devil is an Ass."—WHAL

This is an excellent piece, full of strong sense and just satire. It will serve for all times.

This is the person who engaged with Mr. Hayden, in the mad frolic of rowing up Fleet Ditch to Holborn, celebrated p. 257; but I know nothing more of him.

With me can merit more, than that good


Whose dice not doing well, to a pulpit


No, Shelton, give me thee, canst want all these,

But dost it out of judgment, not disease; Dar'st breathe in any air; and with safe skill,

Till thou canst find the best, choose the least ill.

That to the vulgar canst thyself apply,
Treading a better path, not contrary;
And in their error's maze thine own way

Which is to live to conscience, not to show.
He that, but living half his age, dies such,
Makes the whole longer than 'twas given
him, much.


Weep with me, all you that read
This little story:

And know, for whom a tear you shed
Death's self is sorry.

1 He that but living half his age, dies such, Makes the whole longer than 'twas given him, much.]

Qui sic vel medio finitus vixit in ævo Longior huic facta est quam data vita fuit. Mart. lib. viii. 27. Salathiel Pavy.] The subject of this beautiful epitaph acted in Cynthia's Revels, and in the Poetaster, 1600 and 1601, in which year he probably died. The poet speaks of him with interest and affection, and it cannot be doubted that he was a boy of extraordinary talents. Many of the children of St. Paul's, as well as of the Queen's chapel, evinced great powers on the stage at a very early period of life, and not a few of them became the pride and ornament of it in riper years.

Our times have witnessed several attempts to bring children (pert boys and girls) upon the stage as prodigies, which have all terminated, as might reasonably be expected, in disappointment and disgrace. It should be recollected that the "children" of the old theatre were strictly educated, and that they were opposed only to one another. Nothing so monstrous ever entered into the thoughts of the managers of those days as taking infants from the cockhorse and setting them to act with men and women. And yet it would be unjust, perhaps, to attribute the present encouragement of this degrading exhibition wholly to the managers: if they took advantage of the gross folly of that many-headed beast the town, and indulged its vitiated taste, they did little more than their

'Twas a child that so did thrive
In grace and feature,

As Heaven and Nature seemed to strive
Which owned the creature.
Years he numbered scarce thirteen
When Fates turned cruel,
Yet three filled zodiacs had he been
The stage's jewel;

And did act, what now we moan,
Old men so duly,

As, sooth, the Parca thought him one,
He played so truly.

So, by error to his fate3

They all consented;

But viewing him since, alas, too late!
They have repented;

And have sought to give new birth,
In baths to steep him;
But being so much too good for earth,
Heaven vows to keep him.

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Ille ego sum Scorpus, clamosi gloria Circi, Invida quem Lachesis raptum trieteride nona, Plausus, Roma, tui, deliciaque breves; Dum numerat palmas, credidit esse senem. Mart. lib. x. epig. 53.

"Lachesis (Dr. Jortin observes) did not take away Scorpus out of envy, but by mistake. She concluded that one who had gained so many prizes at the chariot-races was an old man, and in consequence of this error, took him in the flower of youth. I fancy, therefore, that Martial wrote,

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Whose better studies while she emulates, She learns to know long difference of their


Yet is the office not to be despised,

If only love should make the action prized; Nor he for friendship to be thought unfit, That strives his manners should precede his wit.



If I would wish for truth, and not for show,

The aged Saturn's age and rites to know; If I would strive to bring back times, and try

The world's pure gold, and wise simplicity;

If I would virtue set as she was young, And hear her speak with one, and her first tongue;

If holiest friendship, naked to the touch,
I would restore, and keep it ever such;
I need no other arts, but study thee:
Who prov'st all these were, and again may




Writing thyself, or judging others writ, I know not which thou hast most, candor or wit:

66 an accomplished gentleman, and an elegant scholar." It is no small proof of his worth, that he lived on terms of intimacy with the Earl of Pembroke, to whose poetical trifles his own were subjoined, in a little volume which came out in 1660.

In the troubles which led to the usurpation of the Parliament, Sir Benjamin took an active part, and spoke often on the side of moderation and justice, particularly on the question of excluding the bishops from the Upper House. He was the last person who held the office of "Surveyor of the Court of Wards and Liveries," and when that court was abolished in 1646, received a grant of land and money as a compensation for his place He died in 1658, and, as may be conjectured from his epitaph, which he wrote himself, in the practice of that piety and virtue which had formed the consolation of his life. There is a beautiful and touching simplicity in the second of these epigrams, which cannot be too highly praised.

Elizabeth, L. H. Of this lady I can say nothing. If Jonson desired to keep her name secret, he has apparently succeeded; and yet he could scarcely mean to do this, as he has involved it, in some measure, with her history, in the last couplet. A luckier guesser, or a better historian, than I pretend to be, may

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one day hit upon it. But what is the import of this nameless tribute to beauty and virtue ? "To be read by bare inscriptions, (says, Sir Thomas Browne,) to hope for eternity by ænig matical epithets or initial letters, to be studied by antiquaries who we were, and have new names given us like some of the mummies, are cold consolations to the student of perpetuity, even by everlasting languages," or, as in the case before us, by everlasting verse.

Addison, after drawing a beautiful picture of good humour, innocence, and piety, in the person of Sophronia, adds that he cannot conclude his essay better than by a short epitaph written by Ben Jonson, with a spirit which nothing could inspire but such an object as he had been describing :

"Underneath this stone doth lie
As much beauty as could die :
Which in life did harbour give
To more virtue than doth live."
Spec. No. xxxiii.

I must observe here that, in the Spectator this passage is very incorrectly given. In a work so universally read, the utmost care should be taken to preserve the integrity of the text.

But I, no child, no fool, respect the kind, The full, the flowing graces there enshrined; Which, would the world not miscall 't flattery,

I could adore almost to idolatry!




Retired, with purpose your fair worth to praise,

'Mongst Hampton shades and Phoebus' grove of bays,

I plucked a branch; the jealous god did frown,

And bade me lay the usurped laurel down: Said I wronged him, and, which was more, his love.

I answered, Daphne now no pain can prove.

Phoebus replied, Bold head, it is not she: CARY my love is, Daphne but my tree.



Is there a hope that man would thankful be,
If I should fail in gratitude to thee,
To whom I am so bound, loved AUBIGNY?
No, I do therefore call posterity
Into the debt; and reckon on her head,
How full of want, how swallowed up, how

I and this Muse had been, if thou hadst not
Lent timely succours, and new life begot:
So all reward or name, that grows to me
By her attempt, shall still be owing thee.
And than this same I know no abler way
To thank thy benefits: which is to pay.


ROE, and myjoy to name, thou'rt now to go, Countries and climes, manners and men to know,

Mistress Cary.] The usual term in the poet's days for an unmarried woman, or miss. Of her husband, Sir William Uvedale, knt., I can say nothing but that he was of Wickham, in the county of Southampton.

Esme, Lord Aubigny.] Brother to the Duke of Lenox, whom he succeeded in title and estate. He has been already noticed.

3 William Roe.] Younger brother, or perhaps cousin of Sir Thomas Roe (epig, 98.) This gentleman seems to have gone abroad in a mercantile or diplomatic capacity: but with the activity and energy int erent in this distinguished

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That not a pair of friends each other see, But the first question is, When one saw thee?

That there's no journey set or thought upon,

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To Braynford, Hackney, Bow, but thou mak'st one;

That scarce the town designeth any feast To which thou'rt not a week bespoke a guest;

That still thou'rt made the supper's flag, the drum,

The very call, to make all others come: Think'st thou, MIME, this is great? or that they strive

Whose noise shall keep thy miming most alive,

Whilst thou dost raise some player from the grave,

Out-dance the Babion, or out-boast the Brave :4

Or, mounted on a stool, thy face doth hit On some new gesture that's imputed wit?

family, he subsequently entered on the profession of arms, and probably served under Gustavus Adolphus. A few years of hardship, however, gave him enough of campaigning, and he returned to the pursuits of his youth. "William Roe (Howell writes to his friend at Brussels) is returned from the wars; but he is grown lame in one of his arms, so he hath no mind to bear arms any more; he confesseth himself to be an egregious fool to leave his mercership for a musket."-Lib. ii. let. 62.

Or out-boast the brave,] i.e. the bravo, the ruffian: some well known bully of the time.

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