I. 
 
 i^ 
 
 ^
 
 / THE 
 
 POETICAL RHAPSODY 
 
 TO WHICH ARE ADDED, 
 
 SEVERAL OTHER PIECES, 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANCIS DAVISON. 
 
 WITH 
 
 MEMOIRS AND NOTES, 
 By NICHOLAS HARRIS NICOLAS, Esq. 
 
 FELLOW OF THE SOCIETY OF ANTICIUARIES. 
 
 LONDON: 
 WILLIAM PICKERING, CHANCERY LANE. 
 
 M.DCCC. XXVI. 
 
 i > > J J > J 
 
 * * ' . '* J J
 
 LONDON : 
 PRIMED UY S. ANU R. BENTLKV, DORSET-STREET. 
 
 
 « • t
 
 
 TO 
 
 CHARLES GEORGE YOUNG, ESQ. 
 
 FELLOW OF THE SOCIETY OF ANTIQUARIES; 
 
 THESE VOLUMES 
 >^ ARE MOST AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED, 
 ^^ AS A SINCERE AND PERMANENT, THOUGH VERY 
 
 4 
 
 I 
 
 INADEQUATE TESTIMONY OF ESTEEM 
 
 FOR HIS CHARACTER, 
 
 AND OF GRATITUDE FOR HIS FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 at 
 
 CM 
 
 "^. A 2 
 
 4 
 
 ^ 458656
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The favourable manner in which the early impres- 
 sions of the Poetical Rhapsody were received, to- 
 gether with the intrinsic merit of its contents, perhaps 
 justifies the expectation that the present edition will 
 meet with a reception no less gratifying. 
 
 In the lapse of two centuries, the public taste with 
 respect to literature has naturally varied ; and works 
 which, at their first aj)pearance, were hailed with rap- 
 turous applause, have sometimes been consigned to 
 total oblivion, or exist only in the collections of 
 Antiquaries or Bibliographers ; whilst, on the other 
 hand, the same period gave birth to writers, whose 
 productions will be co-existent with our language. 
 Thus, though, of the many stars which formed the 
 Poetic constellation that irradiated the reign of Eliza- 
 beth, some have become totally extinct, or shine 
 with diminished brightness ; there are, nevertheless, a 
 few which will ever retain their pristine lustre; and
 
 PUEFACE. 
 
 like the planets which govern the revolutions of the 
 natural, exercise a most powerful control over the 
 literary world. 
 
 A Miscellany, formed of a few articles from the pens 
 of many of the eminent individuals alluded to, as well 
 as of those whose claims upon our admiration, though 
 less strong, are not wholly without foundation, cannot, 
 it is presumed, fail of becoming to some extent popu- 
 lar; for at the same time that it preserves many pieces 
 of well-known poets, which are not inserted in the 
 usual editions of their works, the effusions of several 
 will be found, whose productions do not elsewhere 
 exist. 
 
 The Poetical Rhapsody first appeared in 1602; 
 it was much enlarged and reprinted in 1608 ; again, 
 with many additions, in 1611 ; and, after under- 
 going a new arrangement, a fourth edition was pub- 
 lished in 1621. It consisted of Sonnets, Odes, Elegies, 
 Madrigals, and other Poems, by some of the most 
 distinguished writers of the reigns of Elizabeth and 
 James the First ; and was edited by Francis Davi- 
 son, the eldest son of that victim of Queen Eli- 
 zabeth's cowardice and treachery, William Davison, 
 one of her secretaries of state. 
 
 In 1814, this Collection was reprinted at the Lee 
 Priory press by Sir Samuel Egerton Brydges ; but the 
 impression, like that of the other reprints of the Eli- 
 zabethan ])oetry by that accomplished antiquary,
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 was limited to one hundred copies : an arrangement 
 which tended in a very slight degree to make the 
 public acquainted Avith our early poets ; for the price 
 and rarity of a copy of the new, was very little less 
 than that of one of the original editions. 
 
 The contributors to the Rhapsody, which has been 
 pronounced by a highly competent judge, to be the 
 most valuable miscellany of the day, were Sir Philip 
 Sydney, Edmund Spenser, Sir Walter Raleigh, Sir 
 John Davies, Mary, Countess of Pembroke, Sir Henry 
 Wotton, Henry Constable, John Donne, Robert Greene, 
 Thomas Campion, Thomas Watson, Joshua Sylvester, 
 Charles Best. Thomas Spelman, Francis Davison, and 
 his brother VValter ; and a very extensive proportion, 
 extending to nearly one hundred pages, was by a poet 
 whose initials are said to have been A. W , but whose 
 name has never transpired — a circumstance which his 
 merit renders equally an object of surprise and regret. 
 
 Of the value of the pieces contained in the collec- 
 tion, it seems almost superfluous to say any thing. If 
 the illustrious names of Spenser, Raleigh, and Sydney, 
 do not attract attention, the editor cannot Hatter him- 
 self that any recommendation of his, will produce it ; 
 and those who peruse the poems will of course be alone 
 influenced by their own judgment. It has also been 
 usual to prefix to a new edition of works of this nature, 
 some observations on the Poetry of the time ; but in 
 the present instance they appear to be uncalled for,
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 because the best possible data for forming an opinion 
 on the subject is afforded by the contents of the 
 volumes, from their presenting specimens of seventeen 
 poets of the period. 
 
 Under these circumstances it will only be further 
 remarked, that the Lee Priory. Edition of the Rhap- 
 sody, in which the various readings of each of the 
 other impressions are minutely noticed, was reprinted 
 from the edition of 1608; and that the present was 
 taken from a copy of that of 1611, from the belief that 
 that edition was the last which was published during 
 the life-time of the original editor, and consequently 
 that it received his final corrections. The spelling 
 has been modernized throughout — a change upon 
 the propriety of which the best judges are at issue, 
 and for which the Editor has no other apology than 
 the very unsettled state of orthography in the six- 
 teenth and seventeenth centuries, in proof of which 
 it is merely necessary to state, that the same word 
 is frequently written in different ways in one line. 
 This alteration may also be justified by the fact that 
 it has been made in those copies of Shakspeare which 
 are the most generally read. With this exception 
 the text has only been disturbed where an obvious 
 typographical error required it, or in those instances 
 stated in the notes. Every material difference be- 
 tween the text of the different editions is specified; 
 for which, from the rarity of the early impressions.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 the editor acknowledges himself indebted to the Lee 
 Priory edition, which had been collated with each of 
 them by Mr. Haslewood, whose research and accuracy 
 are a full security for their correctness ; but, from 
 an unwillingness to crowd the pages with useless 
 references, mere literal variations have not always 
 been pointed out. The notes likewise contain such 
 illustrations and explanations of the text as seemed 
 likely to render it more generally understood. 
 
 To the present edition of the Poetical Rhapsody 
 many important additions have been made ; it having 
 been the editor's plan to render these volumes a per- 
 fect collection of the writings of Fuancis Davison. 
 Besides translations of some Psalms by him and by his 
 brother Christopher, the greater part of which were 
 first printed by Sir Egerton Brydges, the following 
 articles from his pen have been inserted; nearly 
 the whole of which were copied from his own manu- 
 scripts, and are for the first time published. 
 
 The Dialogue between the Sqitire, Proteus, Arnphi- 
 trite, and Thamesis, in the Gray's Inn Masque, 1594. 
 Fragments of Poems and Anagrams. 
 A Censure upon Machiavcl's Florentine History. 
 Imperfect. 
 
 Answer to Mrs. Mary Cornwallis, pretended Countess 
 of Bath's Libel, against the Countess of Cumberland. 
 
 To the work, biograjjliical notices of each of the 
 contributors, and also, for the reasons assigned, of
 
 PHEFACE. 
 
 Sir Edward Dyer and Fulke Greville afterwards 
 Lord Brooke, are prefixed. The account of Francis 
 Davison and of Sir Edward Dyer, will, it is pre- 
 sumed, be thought particularly worthy of attention, 
 from the many curious original letters which are 
 introduced. Of these letters the- extraordinary com- 
 munication from Dyer to Sir Christopher Hatton, 
 respecting Queen Elizabeth, which it is believed 
 has not hitherto been printed, must be read with no 
 common interest, for it appears to throw considera- 
 ble light upon the delicate question of her Majesty's 
 moral character. 
 
 These prefatory remarks cannot be concluded with- 
 out the expression of the Editor's gratitude for the 
 assistance with which he has been favoured by those 
 three celebrated poetical antiquaries. Sir Samuel 
 Egerton Brydges, Mr. Park, and JMr. Haslewood. To 
 Sir Egerton Brydges, for the valuable notes and illus- 
 trations in the 1/^e Priory edition of the Rhapsody; 
 and to INIr. Park and Mr. Haslewood, for their kind 
 and proni])t attention to his personal applications for 
 information, his best thanks are therefore eminently 
 due. 
 
 February, 1826.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 OP 
 
 VOLUME THE FIRST. 
 
 Biographical Notices. 
 
 Francis Davison 
 
 Christopher Davison 
 
 Walter Davnson 
 
 Sir Philip Sydney 
 
 Sir Edward Dyer 
 
 Sir Fulke Greville . 
 
 Mary, Countess of Pembroke 
 
 Sir Walter Raleigh 
 
 Sir John Davies 
 
 Edmund Spenser 
 
 Joshua Sylvester 
 / Henry Constable 
 /' Robert Greene 
 
 Sir Henry Wotton 
 / John Donne 
 
 Thomas Campion 
 / Charles Best 
 
 Thomas Spelman 
 
 •Thomas Watson 
 
 A. \r. 
 
 
 in 
 
 
 Iviii 
 
 
 Ixi 
 
 
 Ixiii 
 
 
 Ixvii 
 
 
 Ixxxviii 
 
 
 xci 
 
 
 xciii 
 
 
 cii 
 
 
 cv 
 
 
 cix 
 
 
 cxi 
 
 
 cxiii 
 
 
 cxviii 
 
 
 cxx 
 
 
 cxxi 
 
 
 cxxii 
 
 
 . il.id. 
 
 
 cxxiv 
 
 
 (XXV
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Title Page to the Poetical Rhapsody 
 
 Dedication . . . . , . , Hi 
 
 To the Reader ...... v 
 
 Yet other Twehe Wonders of the World . . . 1 
 
 A Lottery ...... 5 
 
 A Contention betwixt a Wife, a Widow,, and a Maid . 12 
 The Lie ...... 24 
 
 Two Pastorals upon meeting Sir Edward Dyer and Fulke 
 
 Greville ...... 29 
 
 Dispraise of a Courtly Life . . . . . 32 
 
 A Fiction how Cupid made a Nymph wound herself with 
 
 his arrows . . . . . .36 
 
 A Dialogue between Two Shepherds, Thenot and Piers, 
 
 in Praise of Astrea . . . . . 39 
 
 A Roundelay . . . . . .42 
 
 Strephon's Palinode . . . . . . 44 
 
 Eclogue . . . . . .49 
 
 Eclogue entitled Cuddy . . . . . 62 
 
 Cuddy's Emblem . . . , .67 
 
 An Eclogue upon the Death of Sir Philip Sydney . . 68 
 Eclogue . . . . . . .78 
 
 Eclogue concerning Old Age . . . . 81 
 
 Sonnets, Odes, Elegies, and Epigrams, by Francis 
 
 and Walter Davison. 
 A Complaint . . . . . • 87 
 
 Inscriptions . . . . . . . 91 
 
 A Dialogue in Imitation of that between Horace and Lydia 94 
 Madrigals ....... 96 
 
 Sonnets . . . ' . . . 97, 98 
 
 Madrigal upon his Departure . . . .99 
 
 Epigrams translated from Martial . . . . 100 
 
 Epigrams . . . . . . .105
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 Sonnets. 
 
 Dedication of these Rhymes to his First Love . . 108 • 
 
 That he cannot hide or dissemble his Affection . ibid. 
 
 Upon his Absence from her . . . .109 
 
 Upon presenting her with Speech of Gray's Inn Masque 
 
 in 1595 . . . . . . 110 
 
 Elegy. He henceforth renounceth his food, and former 
 
 delight in Music, Poesy, and Painting . .111 
 
 Sonnet to Pity . . • • . . 113 
 
 Ode. That only her beauty and voice please him . 114 
 
 Madrigals to Cupid . . . . .115 
 
 Upon his Mistress' sickness and his own health . . 116 
 He begs a Kiss ...... ibid. 
 
 Ode. Upon her protestation of kind affection, having 
 
 tried his sincere fidelity . . . . 118 
 
 His restless Estate . . . . .119 
 
 Elegy. Letters in Verse . . . . . 120 
 
 Ode. Being deprived of her looks, &c. he desireth her to 
 
 write to him ..... 128 
 
 Madrigal. Allusion to the confusion of Babel . . 131 
 
 Sonnets. 
 
 Upon her acknowledging his desert, yet rejecting his 
 
 affection ...... 132 
 
 Her Answer . . . . . . ibid. 
 
 His Farewell to his unkind and inconstant Mistress . 133 
 A Prosopopoeia, where his heart speaks to his second 
 
 Lady's breast . . . . .134 
 
 Upon her giving him back the paper whereon the former 
 Song was written, as though it had been an answer 
 thereunto . . . . . . 135 
 
 Commendation of her Beauty, Stature, Behaviour, and 
 
 Wit . . . . . .136 
 
 To her Hand, upon her giving him her Glove . .137
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 Cupid proved a Fencer . . . . .137 
 
 Upon her commending his Verses to his First Love . 138 
 
 He compares himself to a Candle Fly , . . iliid. 
 
 Answer to her question, What is Love ? . . .139 
 
 That all other Creatures have their abiding in Heaven, Hell, 
 
 Earth, Air, Water, or Fire, but he in all of them ibid. 
 Upon his timorous Silence in her Presence . . . 140 
 
 Upon her long Absence ..... ibid. 
 Upon seeing his Face in her Eye . . . . 141 
 
 Upon her hiding her Face from him . . .142 
 
 Upon her Beauty and Inconstancy . . . . ibid. 
 
 A Dialogue between a Lover's Flaming Heart and his 
 
 Lady's Frozen Breast . . . .142 
 
 For what cause he obtains not his Lady's favour . .144 
 
 A Quatrain . . . . . .145 
 
 Sonnet. To a Worthy Lord now dead, upon presenting 
 
 him with Caesar's Commentaries as a New Year's 
 
 Gift . . . . . . . 146 
 
 To Samuel Daniel, Prince of English Poets . .147 
 
 Three Epitaphs upon the Death of a rare Child of Six 
 
 Years old ...... 149 
 
 An Inscription for the Statue of Dido . . . 150
 
 REFERENCES 
 
 TO THE 
 
 PRODUCTIONS OF THE RESPECTIVE POETS. 
 
 Page 
 Best, Charles .... 183-4, 304 to 318 
 
 Campion, Thomas .... 271 to 273 
 
 Constable, Henry . . . . 291 to 293 
 
 Davies, Sir John . . . . 1 to 23 
 
 Davies, Sir John, \ 
 
 or I . . . . 261 to 270 
 
 Donne, John ' 
 Davison, Francis 45 to 61, 287, 303, 321, 324 to 329, 339 
 
 to 350, 352 to the end of the work. 
 Walter . . . . 42 to 44, 172 
 
 Francis Davison x 
 
 or I . . . . 87 to 171 
 
 Walter Davison ' 
 
 Christopher . . . .330, 351 
 
 Donne, John. See Davies. 
 
 Greene, Robert ...... 247 
 
 Pembroke, Mary, Countess of . . 39 to 41 
 
 Raleigh, Sir Walter . . . . 276 to 278* 
 
 • Sir Egerton Bi-ydges also attributes the Poems in pp. 24, 78, 
 274, 284, 289, umlThe Ajiatomy of Love, in p. 295, to Raleigh, 
 but the grounds upon which he has done so cannot be relied on.
 
 IIEFERENCKS. 
 
 Spelmau, Thomas 
 Spenser, Edmond 
 Sydney, Sir Philip 
 Sylvester, Joshua 
 Watson, Thomas 
 
 246, 278 to 281 
 
 290 
 
 29 to 35 
 
 . 285 to 286 
 
 . 173 to 183 
 
 W. A. 
 
 36 to 38, 62 to 77, 86, 185 to 246, 248 to 260 
 
 The Poems which cannot with certainty be assigned to their 
 atithors, occur in pp. 24, 78, 274, 282 to 284, the Madrigal in 
 p. 287, 289, and from page 294 to 302.
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES 
 
 OF 
 
 THE CONTRIBUTORS 
 
 TO THE 
 
 POETICAL RHAPSODY.
 
 
 r/'/f'/. 
 
 "■^B. M i^JK!. ' 
 
 Z*f*J^ri^ul-UtA<d iy ~iViS*am ti^kfnna. (JLi^urcry Zan
 
 FRANCIS UAVISON. 
 
 Barren and imperfect as the accounts which are 
 preserved of many of the Poets of the sixteenth and 
 seventeenth centuries are, there is scarcely one who 
 has experienced the neglect which has attended Fran- 
 cis Davison, the original editor and principal contri- 
 butor to the Poetical Rhapsody. The obscurity in 
 which Genius too frequently leaves her favourite sons, 
 has in his case been impenetrable ; and notwithstand- 
 ing that strenuous exertions have now been made to 
 trace his career, they have been attended with only 
 partial success. Still, much of considerable interest 
 has been recovered ; and whilst the following particu- 
 lars of him afford some curious information on the pe- 
 riod in which he lived, they will, it is hoped, be consi- 
 dered an acceptable addition to our poetical biography. 
 Nor can they fail to increase our regret that more is 
 not known of one who evinced in the dawn of life the 
 possession of talents and acquirements, which, under a 
 more propitious fortune, would in all probability, at its 
 meridian, have been productive of important results to 
 himself and to others. 
 
 b 2
 
 IV BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 Francis was the eldest son of the unfortunate Wil- 
 liam Davison, privy councillor and secretary of state 
 to Queen Elizabeth, and is supposed to have been born 
 about the year 1575. His mother was Katherine, only 
 daughter of Francis Spelman, younger son of William 
 Spelman, of Norfolk, Esq. the descendant of an an- 
 cient family in that county, and to which the cele- 
 brated antiquary. Sir Henry Spelman, was nearly re- 
 lated. Through this alliance it will be seen by the 
 accompanying genealogical table, that Francis Davison 
 was connected with Sir Philip Sydney, and many of 
 the other contributors to the Rhapsody, and with most 
 of the persons noticed in his letters and memoranda. 
 In 1593 he was admitted a member of Gray's Inn;* 
 and in the following year, when he could not have 
 been above nineteen years of age, he composed, what 
 may be considered the earliest of his literary efforts,t 
 the " Speech of Gray's Inn Masque, consisting of 
 three parts, the story of Proteus' Transformations, 
 the Wonders of the Adamantine Rock, and a Speech 
 to her Majesty." The Masque was performed in 
 December 1594, and Davison appears to have taken 
 an active part in it, for, in the " Order of the Prince 
 of Purpoole's proceedings with his officers and atten- 
 dants at his honorable inthronization," he was one of 
 the " Gentlemen Pensioners;" and was also a Knight 
 of the prince's Order of the Helmet. In another part 
 of the Masque his name again occurs. 
 
 * Harl. MSS. 1912 
 
 -|- See a copy of the Masque printed in Nichols''s Progresses of 
 Queen Elizabeth, pp. 266 and 301.
 
 FRANCIS DAVISON. V 
 
 " There do reign likewise thereabouts another sort of dan- 
 gerous people, under the name of poor soldiers, that say they 
 were maimed, and lost their limbs in his honor's service and 
 wars against the Amazons ; and they pretend to have passports 
 from their captains. Some of them say, they have served under 
 Sir Robert Kemp and Sir Robert Cooke ; others under William 
 Knaplocks, Lord 3Iarshal, Sir Francis Marham, Captain Crymes, 
 Captain Conny, Yelverton, Hugan, Sir Francis Davison, and 
 some other of good place." * 
 
 To what extent he prosecuted his legal studies is 
 uncertain ; but as we are without any evidence of his 
 professional acquirements, it may be inferred that the 
 smiles of Poetry entirely seduced him from severer but 
 more useful pursuits. In May 1595, Davison was 
 sent by his father, agreeably to the custom among the 
 higher classes of society at the period, to travel in 
 different parts of Europe. Of this part of his life we 
 have very minute and curious information ; and the 
 following letters from his tutor and himself to his 
 father must be read with considerable interest, from 
 the picture they present of the times, as well as the 
 traits they exhibit of the young poet's character and 
 attainments. The usual licence from the Queen allow- 
 ing them to go abroad, has been preserved ; and the 
 subjoined literal copy was taken from the original. 
 
 ELIZABETH R. 
 
 Elizabeth, by the grace of God Queene of England, France, 
 and Irlande, Defender of the Faith, &c. To all and singular 
 
 • Printed in this work. The Sonnet which accompanied a 
 copy of this Speech to his First Love, will be found in p. 110.
 
 N 
 
 VI BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 our Justices of Peace, Mayors, Sheriffes, Bailliffes, Constables, 
 Comptrollers, and Searchers, and to all other our Officers, 3Ii- 
 nisters, and Subjects, to whom it may apperteine, and to everie 
 of them greeting. Whereas of our especial grace we have 
 licensed, and by this presents do license our trustie and wel- 
 beloved subiecte Frauncis Davison of Graisinn, in the Countie 
 of Midd', gentleman, and Edward Smythe, M"^ of Arts, to passe 
 out of this realme. Wherefore we will and comande you and 
 everie of you to suifer them quietlie to passeby you out of this 
 our Realme, with one servant, two horses, and fifty poundes in 
 money or under, with their baggs, baggaiages, and other necessa- 
 ries, without any your lett, troble, or contradiction, as ye tender 
 our pleasure. And this our Let'res, or the duplicate of them, 
 shalbe as well unto you as unto the said Frauncis Davison and 
 Edward Smythe, sufficiente warrant and discharge in this behalfe. 
 Provided allwaies, that the said Frauncis Davison and Edward 
 Smythe do not haunte or resorte unto the territories or domi- 
 nions of any foreine prince or potentate not being with us in 
 league or amitie, nor yet wittinglie kepe companie with any 
 parson or parsons evell affected to o'' State, or with any other 
 that is departed out of this our Realme without our license, or 
 that contrarie to o^ license doth yet remayne on the other side 
 the Seas. Provided also, that notwithstanding any thing in this 
 our license conteyned, whensoever it shall seme good unto us 
 to call the said Frauncis Davison and Edwarde Smythe home 
 againe before the end of the tearme before expressed, and shall 
 signifie the same unto them either by ovir owne I'res or by the 
 I'res of any fower of our privie Counsell, or by meanes of any 
 of our Amljassadors, that then it shall not be lawfull for them 
 to abide on the other side the seas any longer time then the 
 distance of their aboade shall require, and o^ lawes do permitt, 
 and that without fraude or covin. And if they do not (without 
 urgent and verie necessarie cause to the contrarie) retourne in 
 maner abovesaid, then we will this our License forthwith to be 
 taken void and of non effect from the beginninge, and to be
 
 FRANCIS DAVISON. Vll 
 
 enterpreted and judged to all purposes and entents as though no 
 such license had been geven, and they departed without license. 
 Geven under our Signett at oui- Manor of Grenwich, the xxvii''' 
 daie of Male, in the xxxvii"' yeere of our reigne, 1595.* 
 
 The earliest of the letters alluded to is from Mr. 
 Smyth, + Davison's tutor, dated from Venice, in the Ja- 
 nuary after their departure. From this communication 
 we learn the amount which Secretary Davison had 
 allowed for their expenses ; its insufficiency for their 
 wants; the means which Smyth had employed to make 
 it extend as far as possible; and, from the postscript, 
 proof of his pupil's high spirit, and his fear lest it 
 should involve him in a quarrel. 
 
 To the Right Honorable Mr. Secretary Davison, at his House 
 at Stepney, give these. 
 
 " I HAVE so often and so directly written unto your honor 
 heretofore, concerning our necessary expences in our travelling 
 through Germany, and the excessive rate that we are enforced 
 to endure since our coming into Italy, by reason of our conti- 
 nual residing in Venice, that I might very well have spared to 
 have been troublesome in these, had I not perceived that your 
 proportion of £100 yearly for our expences is so absolutely re- 
 solved upon (as I gather both l)y your letters to ]Mr. Francis and 
 to myself), that howsoever our excess has been bom withal 
 heretofore, yet hereafter we may not look for a larger allowance, 
 
 • Harl. MSS. 38, f. 188. 
 
 ■f Query if it was not this individual who was of Brasen Noss 
 College, Oxford, and took the degree of B.D. 5th July, ISGfi: 
 An Edward Smith, and most likely the same person, translated A 
 Discourse touchmg the Tranquillity and Contcntation of the Mind. 
 London. 15»2.
 
 Vin BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 because you know that such a sum may very well suffice. Al- 
 though it becometh not me to make any question of that which 
 your honor does at any time so expressly affirm, yet both be- 
 cause I assuredly know that in this point you ground upon 
 other men's report, and for that it hath pleased your honor to 
 command me to advertise you faithfully how this proportion will 
 agree with the time and place wherein we live, I trust it may 
 stand with your accustomed favour to pardon me, though I be 
 bold to be of a far different opinion, and, for some proof, allege 
 my own experience. I have hitherto gone to the market, and, 
 as frugally as I could, made our provision of all our neces- 
 saries ; and albeit we have not at any time more than one dish, 
 and that not very costly neither, yet, with the rent for our 
 chamber, our weekly expences amount very near to 40s. beside 
 apparel, books, and many other trifling charges which I see 
 cannot be avoided, especially so long as we are in these parts, 
 where, in truth, such are not fit to remain as cannot eat oil, 
 roots, salads, cheese, and such like cheap dishes, which, forsooth, 
 Mr. Francis can in no wise digest, and any good thing else what- 
 soever is at a very great rate ; we are necessarily compelled to 
 spend the more, and yet not so much as other gentlemen of our 
 nation in this town do make show of; for the most part of them 
 have told me of a greater expence by many degrees. But I 
 allege not other men's examples for argument to persuade your 
 honor to allow us any farthing for the noiu-ishing of any prodigal 
 humours ; neither would I wish that you should be deceived any 
 longer in Mr. Wo : * and some others, who report they have lived 
 in these parts for a hundred marks by the year; for Mr. Granger 
 and some other merchants can prove the contrary by their wofull 
 experience, to whom so many hundred crowns are due by these 
 and such like frugal travellers. But seeing we cannot hope for 
 any such favour whilst we are abroad, I beseech you. Sir, either 
 to make account of spending £ 200 yearly, or very near, or else 
 
 * Query — Mr. Wotton.
 
 FRANCIS DAVISON. IX 
 
 to call me home, who have endured that to deserve well of your 
 honor, to pleasure I\Ir. Francis, and to spare your purse, that 
 I would not be hired unto for any money. And yet, to my 
 grief, I fear a hard censure, considering you shall find yourself 
 charged so far beyond your expectation. But I desire you, Sir, 
 to spare to think otherwise than well of me until I return, and 
 then, if I be not able to justify myself, let ma be blamed. I 
 would have removed to Padua long since, if the expectation of 
 money from Stoad, which we as yet hear not of, and the 
 scattering receiving of Mr. Hickmans ducats, which we took 
 up by twenty and by forty at a time, had not necessarily tied us 
 to remain in this place, where, in truth, we have abcady spent 
 much to small purpose, and so long as we stay here, we may ac- 
 count our time in a manner lost- And I fear, that wheresoever 
 we live in Italy, neither your nor our own expectation will be 
 satisfied ; but as touching this point, if it may please your 
 honor to confer with my honorable Lord WiUoughby * at his 
 coming home, to whom Mr. Francis is much bound for his many 
 kindnesses, though Doctor Hawkins,-)- Avho liveth here almost in 
 contempt of all gentlemen by reason of his pride and other follies, 
 hath played him an unkind part, by seeking his discredit by 
 impertinent speeches, and far unbeseeming an Ambassador, as, 
 God knoweth, he would fain be accounted. I doubt not but 
 your honor will judge otherwise of this country than peradven- 
 ture you have done heretofore, and cause us to retire where we 
 have better means to serve God, to gain knowledge, and to spare 
 your purse. Howsoe%'er, I beseech your honor to let me under- 
 stand in your next what your resolution is touching these ex- 
 pences, that I may, by your direction, accordingly dispose of 
 
 • Peregrine Bertie, I^ord WiUoughby of Eresby. 
 
 -j- Dr. Ilenry Hawkins. He was a civilian, and the nephew 
 of Christopher Velverton, the Speaker of the House of Commons 
 in 15D7, and was then employed l)y the Earl of Essex to collect 
 and transmit intelligence from Italy. Numerous letters from 
 Hawkins are referred to in Birch's Memoirs of Queen Elizabeth.
 
 Xll BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES, 
 
 compass of that, certainly you will be deceived, for the best and 
 wisest of our nation, who have had better means than we have, 
 and I make no question but as earnest desire to profit them- 
 selves, are of this opinion, and freely confess that they have 
 been exceedingly astonished. If your honor talk with my Lord 
 Grey,* my Lord Willoughby, and others, I think they will not 
 report otherwise. As we are now clean- without money, and if 
 Mr. Hickman does not help us, as he hath done hitherto, we 
 know not what to do ; and for my part, if these wants be no 
 better supplied, and that speedily, I think we must make some 
 beggarly shift to come home, for we cannot continue on these 
 terms. Thus, being sorry that I have no more pleasing matter 
 to write of at this present, and beseeching you to spare to cen- 
 sure me for any thing that is amiss until my return, with my 
 humblest duty, I cease this 16th of February, from Venice. 
 " Your honor's ever to command, 
 
 " Ed. Smyth.-j- 
 
 Whilst at Florence;, in the autumn of 1596, Davison 
 received the following letter from his kinsman, Antho- 
 ny Bacon, brother of Francis, afterward the renowned 
 Lord Verulam, who was then secretary to the Earl of 
 Essex, the steady and zealous patron of the Davison 
 family. The " Relation of Saxony," mentioned by Ba- 
 con, must have been written towards the end of the 
 year 1595, and would have been a valuable addition to 
 this collection of his works : it was stolen from the 
 Earl's house sometime in 1596, 'I and does not appear 
 to be now extant. 
 
 • Apparently Thomas, Lore". Grey of Wilton. 
 
 -f- Harl. MSS. 296, f. Ill, original. This letter is also cut 
 through in many parts, and stained, probably from having been 
 fumigated. 
 
 J Birch's Memoirs of the Reign of Queen Elizabeth, vol. ii. 
 p. 255.
 
 FRANCIS DAVTSON. Xlll 
 
 To mv very assured good friend, Mr. Francis Davison, at 
 
 Florence. 
 " Sir, 
 
 " Having received the special favour and contentment of 
 my very honorable good friend your father, as to have tasted 
 the sweetness of the first fruits of your travel, I mean your re- 
 lation of Saxony, wherein you show no less diligence in observing 
 and collecting, than judgment in orderly disposing the same, I 
 would not fail by these few lines to greet your so happy a begin- 
 ning, and in special good will to advise you to proceed and con- 
 tinue, assuring you that as you know such a course of study 
 requireth an earnest intention of the mind and a retentive 
 memory, and consequently will cost you no small pain ; so after 
 the same little practise having brought your mind as it were 
 to a habit of judgment, you shall reap exceeding pleasure and 
 profit answerable unto your painful endeavours. 
 
 " As for occurrences here, namely, the last happy success of 
 our most honoralde and peerless Earl my Lord of Essex, be- 
 cause I know you shall receive them otherwise, I will not trouble 
 you witli any reiteration ; neither will I make any unseemly 
 mixture in joining any other news with so noble and happy an 
 accident. 
 
 And therefore requesting you most heartily to make account 
 and dispose of my sincere good will and afi"ections, and of any 
 friendly endeavours that time and occasions may enable me to 
 perl'orm, I commit you to God's best protection. 
 
 " Your very intire loving friend to use." 
 
 Indorsed — "• A Mons^ Fra. Davison, 
 le T'"-^ d'Aoust, 1596."* 
 
 • Addit. MSS. 4120.
 
 XIV BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 The preceding letter reached Davison early in Sep- 
 tember; and on the 21st of that month he replied 
 to it. 
 
 To my very honorable good Friend Mr. Anthony Bacon, Es- 
 quire, at Essex House. 
 
 " Sir, 
 
 '" I have always held it for a true principle, that the eflfect fol- 
 loweth the nature of the cause : and your most honorably cour- 
 teous letter hath undoubtedly confiimed me in the truth thereof, 
 which, coming from so virtuous and noble a person, as I may 
 without flattery affirm your self to be, it hath wrought in me 
 more than ordinary virtuous effects. In your exceeding kind- 
 ness towards me 1 read mine own forgetfulness of my duty to- 
 wards yoxi; and your vouchsafing to write first to my poor self, 
 who sliould by all reason often ere this time have performed 
 that duty, makes me confess your extraordinary humanity, and 
 acknowledge mine own unpardonable error; in excuse whereof I 
 will bring nothing, but only this, that it hath not been proper to 
 you alone, but hath extended itself to all my most honorable and 
 best deserving friends ; among whom, if any had been remem- 
 bered, you might justly have taken it more unkindly to have 
 been forgotten. But having erred alike towards all, I hope to 
 find the more favorable excuse with yourself, because of you 
 first I crave pardon, and to you first I begin some course of 
 amendment. 
 
 " Touching your letter itself, I must needs confess, that if the 
 very kindness of writing hath wrought so good effects in me, the 
 matters written have wrought much more. And surely if laudari 
 a laudato viro be a great happiness, I know no man of so mean 
 deserts more happy than myself; and should account myself 
 much more if I v/ere not in mine own heart assured that they 
 are utterly undeserved. And though I may perhaps with more 
 judgment, imagine that you deal with me as men commonly do
 
 FRANCIS DAVISON. XV 
 
 with great ladies, to extol their beauty whether they be fair or 
 no ; yet in the assurance of your love towards me, I wiU rather 
 conceive that your praises proceed either from over-favorable 
 aiFection, che spesso occhio ben sanfa veder torto, or else from an 
 honorable kind of dissimulation, hoping by commending things 
 not greatly praiseworthy, to stir up a mind, not altogether resty 
 to virtue, to more commendable actions. Howsoever, I wiU 
 think that my passed labours have performed very much, if they 
 may cancell my long silence and forgetful negligence, and retain 
 me in your indifferent good opinion till I may by some better 
 fruits deserve some part of those praises which now undeserved 
 it pleaseth you to bestow upon me; which if shall be able to ob- 
 tain, I will account my time and pains, though much greater 
 than the former, very profitably bestowed, and largely recom- 
 pensed. 
 
 " As for your honorable and friendly counsel, of continuing 
 that kind of observation, and making use of my travel, you have 
 not only stirred me up, who was perhaps soon disturned from 
 good courses, or spurred me on, if of myself I were not altoge- 
 ther backward, but l)oth in this incredibly incited me to labour 
 by all means to jneld yourself and the rest of my honorable 
 friends some satisfaction answerable to the expectation which 
 you have unworthily conceived of me, and made me most ready 
 always to give your counsel in any other course whereto you 
 shall advise me, tliat place both in appi-oving and following, 
 which the excellency of your judgment, and the extraordinary 
 kindness of your affection, may justly challenge. 
 
 "With what joy I received the news of my noble Lord's \nctO- 
 rious success,* and with what fervency I have wished the conti- 
 nuance thereof, you may easily guess in me, who am, and that 
 with so good cause, wholly devoted to his Lordship; when as 
 his greatest enemies cannot chose but commend and admire his 
 virtues, so far as they cannot wish him sinister fortune. And 
 
 • The Earl of Essex's expedition against Cadiz.
 
 XVI BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 among the rest I may not forget how exceeding honorable 
 speeches were reported to me of his noble Lordship by some, 
 from the Emperor's own mouth, at my being the last year at 
 Prague. If my fortune had served, I Avould have been infinitely 
 glad to have been an eye-witness of his Lordship's gloiious for- 
 tune in this voyage ; but since 1 was not so happy as to have 
 opportunity to use my unpractised sword in his service, 'I have 
 employed those weapons which were in my power to use, as my 
 prayers and good wishes, in the best and most fervent manner I 
 could; which I do infinitely hope shall have the desired issue, 
 both in continuance of his happy victories and safe and honora- 
 ble return. 
 
 " I beseech you both to excuse me and humbly recommend me 
 to your honorable brother, Mr. Francis Bacon, who if he have 
 received part of those advancements which his excellent virtues 
 merit, you shall do me a special favour if it please you to let 
 me understand it. I would desire you also, if he be yet in Eng- 
 land, to recommend my most humble service to Don Antonio 
 Perez.* In recompense of your most kind and honorable offer of 
 
 * This individual was the son of Gonzalo Perez, who for forty 
 years was Secretary of State to the Emperor Charles, and to his 
 son Philip II. and succeeded his father in that situation. He 
 however, forfeited the confidence and favour of his sovereign by 
 his intimacy with the Princess of Eboli, the king's mistress, 
 and on the pretence of revealing the secrets of his office, he was 
 thrown into prison; from wb.ich he escaped into France, and 
 about August 1592, came to England, with the avowed inten- 
 tion of giving Queen Elizabeth some important information pre- 
 judicial to his late master. To her Majesty's honor she magna- 
 nimously refused to encourage so despicable a traitor; but being 
 countenanced by the Earl of Essex, to which circumstance may 
 be attributed Francis Davison's knowledge of him, he continued 
 in this country for some years, during which time he was con- 
 stantly consulted by the Earl on every point relating to the 
 affairs of Spain. Such, howe\'er, was the horror which James 
 felt towards a traitor, that on his accession Perez was obliged to 
 quit the kingdom, and, after various vicissitudes, he ended his 
 days at St. Paul, in France, on the 4th Nov. 1611. His treach-
 
 rKAN(^IS DAVISON. XVll 
 
 your sincere love and aflFection, I am able to yield you nothing 
 but the tribute of infinite thanks, and humbly to intreat you, 
 with full authority, to command and dispose of myself, and all 
 my actions, as it please you, assuring you, that whatsoever good 
 offices I am able in any kind to perform, are always most readily 
 and deservedly at your service. And so I humbly take my 
 
 leavei Florence, the 21st of September, stilo novo, 159C. 
 
 " Vour's to command and dispose of, 
 
 Fra. Davisox." 
 
 "Sir, — Of news there is not any thing of assured truth, worth 
 the writing, but only this, the King of Spain's Armada in these 
 seas of 80 gallies, under Don Andrea Doria, was to go out of 
 Slessina, where and about Capo d' Otranto they have long lain 
 hovering, the 1st of this present, to meet the Turkish fleet, 
 whom they have long expected, of some 90 gallies (but not over 
 well provided and furnished) who were coming from about Na- 
 varina and Modone in Negropont, with purpose, as they under- 
 stood by some prisoners, to set upon them : so as some gi-eat 
 matters are expected upon their meeting. They have before their 
 going out, taken two English ships and three others, Dutch and 
 French. The fame of the Turkish huge preparations by land 
 doth every day decrease, by reason of the great famine and 
 mortality in tlie camp ; and little matters feared this year, ex- 
 
 ery to his country was not the only blemish in his character; and 
 the following extract from Lady Bacon's letter to her son Fran- 
 cis Bacon, clearly shows the (opinion entertained of his principles. 
 " Though I pity your brother, yet so h)ng as he pities not 
 himself, but kee])etb that bloody Perez, yea as a coach com- 
 panion and bed companion, a proud, profane, costly fellow, 
 whose being about him I verily fear the Lord God doth mislike, 
 and doth less l)less your brother in credit and otlierwise in his 
 health, surely I am utterly discouraged, and make conscience 
 further to undo myself to maintain such wrotclies as he is, that 
 never loved your l)rotlier but for his own credit, living upon 
 him."— Birch's Elizabeth, v. i. p. 143.
 
 XVlll BIOGllAl'HICAL NOTICES. 
 
 cept he vviiiter, as he hath given out, in Hungary. Vienna 
 hath been lately reviewed, the fortifications repaired, and the 
 suburbs made defensible, and a new garrison and provision put 
 into it to prevent the worst. The Prince of Transylvania is 
 strong in the field. The Imperials are said to have lately taken 
 Hainan,* though with some loss, whereby the passage is opened 
 into Transylvania, to be able to conjoin their forces upon any 
 occasion. The League between the Polacks and the Imperials, 
 after so long motioning, handling, and noising weekly, standeth 
 yet in very doubtful terms, the Polacks demanding the Arch- 
 duke Maximihan's absolute renunciation of all pretences to 
 their crown, and divers other hard conditions, before they will 
 enter into the treaty of the League ; and the other loth to grant 
 them till the conclusion. Here are divers rumours of our fleet, 
 of which every man's mouth is filled, but nothing of certainty. 
 Of other matters nearer home, you are there more truly adver- 
 tised therein, and again I humbly take my leave."-|- 
 
 The next letter of the series^ in point of time, was 
 likewise from Davison to Bacon. Self-interest may be 
 fairly considered as the chief, if not the sole motive of 
 this correspondence;, for it was Francis Davison's ma- 
 nifest object to keep himself alive in the Earl's recol- 
 lection, to whom he believed his communications 
 would be shewn. This letter, like the former one, is 
 therefore, frigid and constrained; and they are re- 
 markable only, for the flatteries with which they are 
 filled, both to the Earl and to his secretary. The 
 manuscript of these documents partakes of the charac- 
 
 * Query — Hatvany. 
 
 f Addit. 3ISS. 4121, f. 1-27; collated, through the kindness of 
 the Rev. Dr. D'Oyley, with the original in the library of the 
 Archbishop of Canterbury.
 
 FRANCIS DAVISON. XIX 
 
 ter of the contents, for they are most carefully and 
 beautifully \^Titten ; not a blot nor an erasure exists, 
 and they present a fine specimen of the chirography 
 of the time. 
 
 To my honorable good Friend Mr. Anthony Bacon Esquire, 
 at Essex House. 
 " Sir, 
 
 " Your great deserts towards me words cannot express, nor 
 thanks cannot repav : and therefore, haHng so kind and hono- 
 rable a creditor, I am willing, being already indebted past like- 
 lihood of answering, to engage myself far beyond all possibility 
 of restoring. 
 
 " I am exceedingly glad to understand by my father's last let- 
 ter, that you were not contented to have bestowed the reading 
 upon my trifling relation of Saxony, and these undeserving 
 commendations wherewith your kind letter to me overflowed, 
 but that you would needs of espetial fa\ our vouchsafe to present 
 it yourself to my noble Lord. I hope, that as many men bear 
 with tlie imperfections of their servants for their sake by whom 
 they were preferred, so his Lordship hath excused the faults 
 and defects thereof, for the great favour and respect he beai-eth 
 to you, that recommended it. I send you here enclosed, a letter 
 of congratulations to his Lordship. I beseech yen. Sir, that as 
 it hath no less need of your recommendation than tlie other, so 
 it may find you no less willing justly to excuse this, than you 
 were ready undeservedly to praise that. Yourself best knows 
 how unaccustomed my pen is to write to so great ])ersons, espe- 
 cially on a suliject wliere the matter so far exceedeth the style; 
 and the true greatness of my inward joy hindreth the efltctual 
 expressing of my outward rejoicing. 
 
 " I am ashamed of myself that I have no new relation or dis- 
 i-«urse ready, of some of these parts of Italy, whereby I might 
 both have testified my duty to his Lordship and made some 
 
 c 2
 
 XX BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 amends for the errors anil oversights of the last. But the un- 
 certainty of his Lordsliip's coming home, and some indisposition 
 that I have had of late, have constrained me (much against my 
 desii'e) to take a longer date. I trust my noble Lord will no more 
 decrease his wonted favour to my unworthy self for neglecting 
 or delaying some necessary offices and services, than my devo- 
 tion to his Lordship, being only founded upon his excellent vir- 
 tue and worth, can receive increasing by the augmenting of his 
 honor or fortune. I am now in a private corner of Tuscany, 
 where there is little news stirring, and therefore I hope you will 
 expect the less. If any thing fall out worthy the advertisement, 
 you shall from time to time hear of it. I humbly intreat you 
 to commend me in all dutiful and mindful sort to your honora- 
 ble brother, Mr. Francis Bacon ; and so wishing both yourself 
 and him all deserved good fortune and worthy advancement, I 
 kiss your hands. 
 
 '' Your's most humbly to command and dispose of, 
 
 Fra. Davison. 
 From Lucca, the 16'h of 
 October, 1596, Sdlo N'ovo.* 
 
 From such cold and studied epistles the mind turns 
 with pleasure to the more natural and interesting let- 
 ters from Davison to his father. His reply to his 
 parent's repeated reproofs of his extravagance ; his 
 indignation at the Secretary's misfortunes, together 
 with his satirical remarks upon those whom he consi- 
 dered as the authors of them ; and the intelligence he 
 imparts about foreign courts, combine to render these 
 letters highly deserving of attention. 
 
 * Addit. MSS. 4121, f. 265; collated v/ith the original in the 
 library of the Archbishop of Canterbury.
 
 FRANCIS DAVISON. XXI 
 
 The " noble Lord" mentioned in the following let- 
 ter, was the Earl of Essex, who had then just returned 
 from his successful expedition against Cadiz. That 
 nobleman's arch-enemy was evidently Sir Robert Cecil, 
 Secretary of State, who was deformed in his person; 
 whilst the remark about " bumbasted legs and St. Gob- 
 bo," seem to refer to Lord Burleigh, who, towards the 
 end of his life, suffered severely from the gout. It 
 was about this period that the long contest between 
 the Lord Treasurer and the Earl of Essex for the ap- 
 pointment of a secretary of state, was terminated by 
 the nomination of Sir Robert Cecil to that office, and 
 the consequent defeat of the Earl; to which circum- 
 stance Francis Davison alludes in speaking of " this 
 storm and accident :" and when it is remembered that 
 Essex, and other powerful friends, had used every 
 possible eifort to restore Secretary Davison to that situ- 
 ation, tlie bitterness with which Francis in this and a 
 subsequent comumnication, speaks of Burleigh, who is 
 accused of having impeded the attempt, with the view 
 of obtaining it for his son, cannot excite surprise. 
 The same cause likewise explains his animosity against 
 Sir Robert himself, whom he ridicules in the most 
 ludicrous terms. 
 
 FRANCIS DAVISON TO HIS FATHEH. 
 
 " My most humble duty premised, Sir, your last letter 
 of the 11th of September, to Mr. Smith, hath acquainted 
 me with news, and wrought effects so contrary to my ex- 
 pectation, as I almost know )iot what to write: not so much
 
 XXU BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. / 
 
 foi- youi- discontent towards me, for that I would hope by good 
 actions to remove; nor for your abstaining upon that respect to 
 write to me, for I assure myself you would not long dwell in so 
 bitter an humour: nor yet for the pretended cause to which you 
 attribute it, namely, my indiscreet and immoderate expence, 
 for that I could easily either excuse or amend: Imt for those 
 other matters you mention, which jnay, and that most justly, 
 give you such great cause of inward discontent. Miserable 
 estate of times, and more miserable estate of men that live in 
 them, where great virtue is a man's ruin ; either none, or else 
 ill merits, the high way to advancement ; and a man's noblest 
 and most glorious actions, nothing but weights to thrust down 
 himself and his friends, and bring up his enemies in the balance 
 of his prince's favour. But my noble Lord, I doubt not, being 
 rooted in her Majesty's favour and countenance, by so great an 
 enterprise as this his journey hath fallen out to be, will be able 
 himself to ride out both this and any other storm, as well as he 
 hath done those heretofore, But whether he shall be able to 
 bring in any of his friends to strengthen him, (of which all the 
 world thinks he hath need) or keep out his greatest enemies, 
 who will seek by all possible means to overthrow him, I now 
 neither see nor hope for. 1 write perhaps more liberally than 
 the dangers letters are subject to would permit ; but where 
 good words will prevail nothing, nor ill can reduce a man into 
 worse estate than he is in, there is both want of judgment and 
 liberty not to disburthen his own passions. Without question, 
 my Lord's fortune is hard, and his enemies estate most fortu- 
 nate. If my Lord break their necks as nature hath l)roke their 
 backs, they may comfort their fall with the nobleness of the au- 
 thor, and his arch (i.e. his enemy made like an arch) enemy may 
 glory in himself that jEnecB magna dextra cadit. But what glory 
 shall it be to him, that hath so notably beaten the greatest mo- 
 narch of the world at his own door, to cut off such a viper's tail, 
 or being a Hercules, to beat a Pigmy ? But if he be vanquished 
 (quod Dens omen avertat! ) without question all the world shall
 
 FRANCIS DAVISON. XXIU 
 
 never make me confess hut that bumbasted legs are a better for- 
 tification than bulwai-ks ; and St. Gobbo a far greater and more 
 omnipotent saint than either St. Philip or St. Diego. 
 
 " For your self, I doubt not but that you bear this accident 
 with your wonted resolute constancy and virtuous magnanimity, 
 as I seek, with that poor revenge which words offered,* to 
 sweeten the bitterness of my mind. I pity poor Cambridge- 
 shire ;-|- I lament our court, and I wish the amendment of your 
 fortune; and I only sustain my burthenous hope with this, that 
 tolluntnr iit alliun, ut lapsu yraviore riiant. 
 
 " Touching our expence, I can write no more than I have done. 
 You must needs consider we are three fed, three lodged, three 
 clothed, three taught, three that travel, three that must have 
 somewhat more than meat in our mouths and clothes on their 
 backs ; and in sum, I protest to you, considering how sicknesses, 
 inconveniences, misfortunes, and I know not what, hath fallen 
 out, I do not see how we can help it. 
 
 " 3Iy promised relation of Tuscany your last letter hath so 
 dashed, as I am resolved not to proceed withal, till I hear how 
 his Lordship accepted the last, and what favour this is like to 
 expect. In the mean time I go on with my studies, contenting 
 myself with tiie profit and use I make, without displaying it to 
 others. 
 
 " Touching our journev, IMr. Smith hath written sufficiently, 
 considering what I have written heretofore ; only for our seeing 
 Vienna and that part of Hungary, and so the Emperor's court, 
 &c., I am exceeding not only willing, but desirous, if so it 
 please you, to allow llie charge, which in truth will be very 
 great. But I hope you will rest satisfied with this, that whoso- 
 ever, being a traveller, will feed his eyes and his mind, must starve 
 
 • Query — afford. 
 
 •f- This allusion it is difficult to explain otherwise than by 
 supposing tliat one of tlu' enemies of the Davison family had 
 then been returned as knight of the shire for (Jambridgeshire, 
 or was nominated lord heutenant of that County.
 
 XXIV BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 his purse. If you resolv'e of that course, I desire you not only 
 to procure me those letters of commendations which I mention- 
 ed for France, but others also for the Emperor's court ; if it be 
 possible, to the Duke of Sax(my's, the Count Palatine's, the 
 Duke of Wirtemberg, to Strasburg, &c. ; of which in my next I 
 wiU advise you more certainly and particularly. 
 
 " Mr. Archer* sent me word from Nuremberg long since, that 
 he would be at Venice about the midst of the last month ; but as 
 yet I hear nothing of him, though I have sent two or three let- 
 ters thither in my stead, to entertain him and give him know- 
 ledge where I am. 
 
 " There is one Mr. Granmer-)- some 10 days since arrived at 
 Florence, but whether it be Mr. George or another of that name, 
 that was likewise expected, I yet know not. 
 
 "News there is this; this day sennight the father and the eldest 
 son of the Interminelli, of whom I sent you inkling before my 
 coming from Florence, were publicly beheaded here in the 
 Piazza. They spake nothing in the world to the people. The 
 old father died much more resolutely than the Doctor of Law, his 
 son, though he had that miserable disadvantage to behold his 
 son dead upon the scaffold when he came to the place' of execu- 
 tion. The gates of the town all shut but one, and that very 
 strongly guarded : 500 soldiers in the town, 200 usual, the rest 
 sent for on purpose. The walls, which are very well fortified, 
 well g^iarded, and all the ordnance bent. The cause objected, 
 (for in matters of state they have a public judgment or sentence 
 read) for that he would have sold the right and patent of divers 
 
 * Apparently Henry Archer, who was his fellow-student of 
 Gray's Inn, into which Society he was admitted in 1586. 
 
 •f In a letter Avhich is extant from John Carpenter, the hus- 
 band of Secretary Davison's sister, dated 7th October, 1586, ad- 
 dressed to the Secretary, Carpenter speaks of his brother Cran- 
 mer^ to whom he had written touching his resolution for his son 
 George. It was probably this George Cranmer who is men- 
 tioned above.
 
 FRANCIS DAVISON. XXV 
 
 castles now in the hands of the Signoria, which he claimeth 
 from his supposed ancestor, Castruchio ; as some say, to Capone; 
 as others affirm, to Cavalier Vinta ; but, as all men affirm, to 
 the use indeed of the Great Duke, to whom the Emperor should 
 have confirmed tlie sale and privileges. The Pope, as is given 
 out, understanding of the practice, bewrayed it, as one between 
 whom and the Great Duke there is no good intelligence. The 
 Duke resteth much distasted withal, as a matter that toucheth 
 him both in honor and interest ; and which is most strange, 
 though two thirds, if not three fourths of the gentlemen of this 
 town, who are only capable of office, being allied unto him, yet 
 so dear a thing is public liberty, so much doth tlie bond of a 
 man's country exceed all others, of 130 voices he had not above 
 12 for the saving of his life, nor almost any friend that blames 
 the justice, or laments his end. 
 
 " Since his execution his other two sons that were in prison, 
 the eldest being a priest, is said to be strangled this night pri- 
 vately in prison ; the other, a fine young gentleman of seventeen 
 years old, and altogether innocent of the fact and consent, mured 
 up in prison. The other brother, who was in Antwerp at the tak- 
 ing of his father, and thought to have been fled into England, is 
 now taken, as I am lately informed, and on the way to be 
 brought hither, to receive such j)unishment as the rest : their 
 goods and houses confiscated and sold : the table of their gene- 
 alogy, most sumptuous, and esteemed at 500 crowns, burnt ; and 
 so consequently, not only the house utterly extinct, of which 
 none were left but he and his children, being the ancient and 
 noblest of all the silkwinders and sellers of thread, but even the 
 memory thereof clean defaced. 
 
 " This other news is of much greater importance, if I could in- 
 form it as particularly ; which is, that there are, some ten days 
 since, six Englishmen shipped at Leghorn for Spain, lately come 
 from Rome, and all sworn to kill the Queen. The one calleth 
 himself Bauchling, or Barber, or Barker, a Lincolnshire man, 
 and sometime a Bachelor of Arts in Corpus Christi College
 
 XXVI BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 in Oxford ; one Fercox, son to a mercer in Cheapside ; and the 
 other four wliose names I know not. I don1)t not bnt they have 
 one false brother at least amongst them, who will so behave 
 himself, as I shall have no need eitlier to Informare or Toplifi- 
 zare,* being an office to which I have no great stomach. 
 
 " Our last advices mention the winning of Agria by the Turk, 
 but no particulars thereof. I beseech you pardon my scribbling, 
 since the time will ])ermit no co])ying. If you think any of 
 these news worthy, I pray you communicate it with Mr. Anth. 
 Bacon, to whom I account myself exceedingly beholden. 
 
 "I beseech you, Sir, not to leave our bills either unaccepted or 
 unanswered ; for it the merchants should thereupon refuse me, 
 I know not what would liecome of us. And I assure you, you 
 may much easlier rest discontented with our expences than we 
 abate them. 
 
 "Besides my letter to Mr. Anth. Bacon, of the 21st of Septem- 
 ber, I sent another the last post Vmt one, and with it a letter of 
 congratulation to my Lord, to whom I wish, though so honora- 
 ble it cannot he, yet as full and absolute victory over his private 
 enemies as against the puldic foes of the state. If the letter fall 
 not out to your liking, excuse it by the divers matters I have to 
 attend unto : writing, speaking, and reading Italian; desire to 
 frame an indifferent style in English ; especially having so often 
 occasion of undergoing so great and curious eyes ; reading story, 
 and policy ; observing what I hear and see ; and, which is the 
 greatest labour, to dispose all of it so as other men may under- 
 stand of my knowledge, and find that perhaps in half an hour 
 that cost me half a week. 
 
 " I besee.-h you. Sir, remember my most humble duty to ray 
 mother, and my l)rothers and sisters, and to keep me in j'our good 
 grace and favour, which, except it be by my expences, wliich t 
 cannot remedy, I know not that I have deserved to lose. And 
 
 * Alluding to a Mr. TopclitFe, who had rendered himself noto- 
 rious by his discovery of Papists.
 
 FRANCIS DAVISON. XXVll 
 
 so with my humble prayers to God for your health and content- 
 ment, I end. Lucca, the 6th of November, Stilo Novo, 159G. 
 " Your most loving and obedient son, 
 
 Fra. Davison."" 
 
 A fortnight after the date of the preceding, Francis 
 Davison again wrote to his father. This letter merits 
 attention from the political news which it conveys, and 
 for the shrewd remarks of its writer respecting the 
 different reports which had been circulated. His ob- 
 servations upon the numerous friars and priests of 
 Italy are both amusing and just ; and the repetition of 
 his satirical allusions to Sir Robert Cecil's appoint- 
 ment, as well as to his personal infirmities, clearly 
 show the rancorous feelings which he entertained to- 
 wards that statesman. 
 
 To the R' Hon*'"' and my very good Father, i\lr. Secretary 
 Davison, at<liis House at Stepney, near London. 
 
 " My most humlde duty premised. Sir, your lust letter 
 of the 11th of September, I answered by the last post but 
 one, and sent you such small news as this private Common- 
 wealth and the retiredness of the place afforded. My other 
 discourse, or rather descant upon the ill news of your letter, 
 if it seemed unworthy your eyes, botti for the general reverence 
 of your sometime respected and honored person, and particular 
 respect which is to lie used to a loving and grave father, and 
 indiscreet, considering the peril that letters are subject unto, I 
 hope you have rather laughetl at my folly than condemned my 
 judgment. 
 
 • Addit. MSS. 4122, f. 35, et seq.
 
 XXVm mOGUAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 " The last news of the overthrow which the Imperials and the 
 Transylvauians have received of the Turk, I douht not hut you 
 shall hear of before this letter come to your hands. We hear in 
 this place that they have lost 20,000 men. IMaximilian fled one 
 way and the Prince another, and the whole camp dispersed ; 
 and the Turk followeth the victory, making up to Vienna; 
 which if he go forward withal, and set himself down with reso- 
 lution to take it, I protest to you I repose so little upon that 
 nation, that I assure myself, that if either God's providence or 
 the unseasonahleness of the year, divert him not, our journey to 
 
 Vienna -and that part of Hungary, will he utterly laid a 
 
 Sii", by my poor observation since I came into Italy, I have 
 always found that the Turks die in arising, and the Christians 
 in eflFect. You will not perhaps believe it, but by the particular 
 account by the almanack I have kept, I have found that there 
 have perished, within these twelve months, at the least 350,000 
 Turks by the edge of the Christians' sword and some small fa- 
 mine ; whereas, indeed, I think there have not been lost, by all 
 means, 40,000, nor, to speak with the most, 30,000 ; or, if our 
 advices be true, I think they are all Hydras, since, the more still 
 are dead, the more they rise up in number, and the more terrible 
 in effect. I doubt not but you in England do not greatly 
 either respect or greatly trouble yourselves about it, since, per- 
 haps, you may imagine, and not without some cause, that it will 
 force the great king to employ some forces and more measures 
 to the defence of the House of Aiistria, which should otherwise 
 have been destined to wreak his revengeful malice up with the 
 little triumphant island. But we here in Italy, that know how- 
 open the passage lies, if Vienna be taken, do fear the damasks, 
 satins, and cloth of gold, will find a much worse vent than they 
 have. But I would easily, out of this country, pick out an 
 army of fat idle priests, friars, and others of that rabblement, 
 that, if they could handle a sword as well as a cross, or marshal 
 a battle in as good order as a procession, or carry an helmet to 
 as good purpose in an army, as their shaven crowns support a
 
 FRANCIS DAVISON. XXIX 
 
 mitre with proud superstition at a mass, were able to drive away 
 three armies of Turks, and conquer two kingdoms of Hungary. 
 I do hope they will one day be put to that profession, for I am 
 sure to this they were neither created by nature nor are accom- 
 modated by art. 
 
 " But to leave this as a matter further off, I have very desir- 
 ously expected some other letters from you these last two weeks, 
 to understand more fully in what state things stand at home. 
 I doubt not but long since my noble Lord hath waded through 
 all displeasures, and is arrived on the terra firma of his former 
 grace and favour. Bvit yet would I very gladly be resolved of 
 it, and have it confirmed by yourself, so much honoured by him 
 and so exceedingly reverenced of me. On the other side, I am 
 afraid that the late instalment and canonization of the venerable 
 saint, so contrary to so many promises, oaths, and protestations, 
 after so long expectation of the world, and so many prayers and 
 wishes to the contrary of all men, hath made many that stood 
 indifferent before, now to bend their heads like bulrushes with 
 the wind, and, as the proverb is, run with the stream. But yet 
 I infinitely long to understand whether this, added to so many 
 other former afflictions, have made you remit any of that former 
 patience and magnanimity which have been to you no less honor 
 and reputation in your hardest fortune, than your moderation 
 made you reverenced in your greatest prosperity. 
 
 " I would also (and I think not without cause, being so much 
 interested in it) marvellously gladly know, whether you find as 
 much mutabihty in those few friends which were left, as you 
 have experienced variety in your fortune, and what effects of 
 hopes and despair do offer themselves to be considered of. I 
 assure myself that you will presently answer me, that I rather 
 demand these things for advice and discourse sake, than tliat I 
 have either heretofore sought to meet with such not unexpected 
 occasions, or will hereafter confoiTn my mind to my fortune, but 
 cut my coat to the narrowness of my cloth. First, for the times 
 past, I should do both you and myself wrong, to excuse all my
 
 XXX BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 expences and charges I have put you to these two or tliree years, 
 and sure you should do me some injustice (if I may so say) to con- 
 demn me altogether of unthriftiuess, esj)ecially since my coming 
 abroad. For the time to come, though I assure you that no in- 
 cident of this nature in the world can either pull down my mind 
 or abate my hope, or till my assurance that, so I may say, infi- 
 nite deserts as yours shall not one day, whensoever it shall fall 
 out, receive their due recompense, and that this low ebb of your 
 fortune will, without question, at one time or other, so return 
 to, if not a high, yet indifferent flow ; yet, till better effects or 
 greater hopes draw me on, I will now be content to dance a 
 low drowsy galliard to so sullen a piping as the great minstrel of 
 the world, Dame Fortune, makes And as in this poor country 
 we are content, by reason of the dearth, to eat chesnuts in- 
 stead of marmalade, so since there is such a deartli of friends 
 and favour in England, and that Sicilia, that was wont to be 
 hordeum populi Romani, and the magazine of Italy, doth now 
 pile all up within her own barns, and suffer no other countries 
 living about her (perhaps as well deserving) to participate of her 
 fruitful, fertile, immeasurable abundance, I will now conclude 
 that cedendum est tempori, and that non si fa ben par huom quel 
 eh' il ciel nega. But, Sir, I would to God I could perform this 
 in effect, as determine it in mind, or promise it in words. I 
 have in so many letters beretoiore given you reason of our ex- 
 pences, as I may well often redouble the same, but more and 
 newer arguments I cannot bring. Something may be perhaps 
 out, if by exceeding sparefiilness and limited scpiared expences on 
 all occasions, but both your purpose and mine own desires being, 
 as I think, not to save so much a few crowns for the present, 
 (for that, surely no place were so fit as a retired life at home) as 
 to enable myself to be worthy to spend much more in the time 
 hereafter ; and that which I overspend in money, to overgain in 
 knowledge. I cannot see how much can be diminished, howso- 
 ever, except you mean to ruin us altogether, and to bring us to 
 those straits that we have been once or twice at alreadv, and
 
 FRANCIS DAVISON. XXXI 
 
 Other men feel daily. We must intreat you to justify our bills and 
 maintain our credits here intire abroad, howsoever you mislike 
 the expences ; for the least word of yours, and the least dislike, 
 may perchance reduce us to those extremities that were very un- 
 fitting either for your honour or our merits. And, to tell you 
 the truth, I wish with all my heart, that your leaving our bills 
 unpaid (as you mention) do not give us a very present expe- 
 rience of it; for we have written, both of us, both to Hickman 
 and Higgons, twice for sundiy supplies, and the time is past 
 that the last letters might have been answered. As yet we can 
 hear nothing in the world, one way or other. I doubt not but 
 if they rest never so little distasted, they will soon discontinue 
 to supply us ; and yet we shall never know the cause of it : but 
 pretending either ignorance of our desires or to be unadvertised 
 by our supposed miscarried letters, we shall live in want, a thing 
 hard to bear at home, but insupportable abroad. And I protest, 
 if we hear not from one of them within these fifteen days, I can- 
 not tell what shift we shall be put to, or how we shall wade out 
 of them, or whether we shall find other men as able and wilhng 
 to pleasure us in our extremity, as perhaps we have been favor- 
 able to some in their like wants. 
 
 "If you please to determine our journey to Vienna, and though 
 I imagine I shall be indifferently welcome to those Princes' 
 courts through which I passed at my coming into Germany into 
 Italy, yet, if you can conveniently, I would gladly be very favor- 
 ably recommended to the Emperor's court, and if it be possible, 
 to the Duke of Wirtemberg, the Commonwealth of Strasburg, 
 and to Geneva, if I take the way of France, which I most affect ; 
 if that of the Low Countries (which I mislike ^ery much), the 
 Landgrave of Hesse. If I have occasion or opportunity to see 
 more, I know that the commendations to these, or the most of 
 these, will l)e able to j)rocure me infinite recommendations to 
 any other. 
 
 " The other, no less essential or material point, is, that if you 
 would be content to take such order for our provision of money,
 
 XXXll BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 I beseech you to give order to Hickman or Higgons at Venice, 
 Mr. Granger at Nuremberg, (for that way we must pass, or so 
 near as his favour may pleasure us) and some French merchants 
 at Genoa, that whatsoever fall out, we be not driven to sell our- 
 selves to buy a little experience. For all matters after we are 
 come into France 1 have written exceeding largely heretofore, 
 and being so near and among our friends, as I hope, we may send 
 to hear oftener, and presume more upon other men's kindness. 
 
 " Touching giving some proof to yourself and others, whether 
 I have made the same use of our travel in Italy that it pleased 
 you to think 1 did in Germany, I have gathered and observed 
 divers particulars, both of Tuscany and some other places, which 
 I forbear to reduce into an absolute discourse before I hear how 
 my Lord accepted of my other ; whensoever I hear of his favor- 
 ing of that, I doubt not but to give you and his Lordship suffi- 
 cient satisfaction. But you know the old rule, haud facile 
 emergunt quorum virtutibus ohstat res angusta domi; and not 
 only in money but in credit, hope, reputation, and assurance of 
 some kiu<l of recompense of all their pains. A letter from his 
 Lordship would be exceeding welcome, and might work extraor- 
 dinary effects, coming from so extraordinary a person, to an or- 
 dinary svibject as I confess myself to be. 
 
 " Mr. George Cranmer and the gentleman whom he accompa- 
 nies, have been at Florence, and are now gone to Vienna, but I 
 never heard from him either by letter or word of mouth, where- 
 at, considering he could not be Ignorant where I was, being but 
 40 miles from Florence, I take some unkindness. 
 
 " Of my dear friend Harry Archer, I have understood nothing 
 a long time, (at which 1 marvel exceedingly) and the day that 
 he proposed to his coming into Italy is long since past. I fear 
 that either sickness, or some other accident of importance, hath 
 kept both me from enjoying, and him from imparting, that com- 
 fort and profit tliat I think we should both receive from one 
 another's company and presence. 
 
 " Here hath been of late with the Great Duke, Sir Richard
 
 FRANCIS DAVISON. XXXIU 
 
 Fiennes * (for whose restoring to an old undeser-\'e<l barony I re- 
 member you were a suitor at your being at court) with infinite 
 dishonor to the Queen and eternal infamy to himself. He had 
 letters patents, secundum usum Varum, to all princes, for his 
 favorable entertainment, which how he used among the Dutch 
 princes where he was, I know not. I think answerable to the 
 L.-j- with whom he came over to the Landgrave's, of \\'hom we 
 ha^-e heard many dishonorable particulars, and you will know 
 more. But here it hath procured him a few loaves of stale bread, 
 
 a pair of cold pigeons, &c his charges for which, not- 
 
 \iathstanding, he taketh himself much beholding to one of the 
 Duke's secretaries, who promised him that favour; and he hath 
 promised in sign of gratefulness, to send him one of his sons for 
 a page. Much like entertainment to this he hath also of the 
 
 + of Venice, and the D. of Ferrara. You may see by 
 
 these things how little care is taken of her Majesty's honor and 
 the glory of our noble country. But these matters are both 
 scanned and descanted upon by others, though they be but pri- 
 vate and particular; and 1 assure you the Great Duke stuck not 
 to censure our public actions with as much liberty, having pub- 
 licly affirmed tliat, if all the rest had been like the Earrs§, nay 
 more, if tlie Empress of the ocean liad not been betrayed, the 
 great Iberian king liad received no golden merchandize this year. 
 But of these things sufficient, and perhaps more than will be 
 either pleasing to you or oversafe for myself. 
 
 * Sir Richard Fiennes was the heir of James Fiennes, who 
 was summoned to ParHaraent as Lord Say and Sele, in the 
 25 Hen. VI.; and the Barony so created was, according to mo- 
 dern princi])les, tlien vested in Sir Richard, and wliich dignity 
 he claimed. He was not, however, allowed it until the accession 
 of James the First, wlieu he obtained a confirmation of the title 
 to Iiim and tlie heirs of his l)ody, though, as lie was ]i]aced in the 
 Hoiis(! of I'eers as jiinioi' lianin, it would seem tliat he was then 
 considered to have; been created rather than restored to the 
 Peerage. + Querv — ijords. 
 
 + Qu«ry— Doge. § The Earl of Essex. 
 
 d
 
 XXXIV ItlOGllAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 " If there come to you from Mr. Granger, or any of his part- 
 ners, a bill of exchange from me, of the 18th or 26th of July, or 
 thereabouts, for the sum of about 30;. sterling, received at Flo- 
 rence of one Luci Torsigniani, and payable at double usance, I 
 beseech you to see it discharged. The reason why it cometh 
 signed with my hand alone, is because the bill being given and 
 directed in ray name alone, I thought it very unfit, especially 
 receiving it of a stranger, to join another's patent with me for 
 it. I shall not need to put you in mind how much it imports 
 your- honor and my credit, being recommended unto him by 
 my Lord, to see him well satisfied, and to except the less of it 
 for being signed only by me. I have forborne to advertise you 
 of it before this time, because the day was so far ofi". I beseech 
 you, Sir, not only to persuade but assure yourself ever, that 
 though I may seem more unthrifty in my expences than you 
 expect or your estate may well bear, and in my letters perhaps 
 more humourous than your judgment or my duty will allow, 
 yet I rest as loving and respectful a son, and as desirous to give 
 you all possible content and satisfaction, as any other son what- 
 soever to so good and kind a father. I intreat you to remem- 
 ber my humble duty to my mother, and to continue me still in 
 her good favour, which I exceedingly desire to retain, and, for 
 any thing I know, have not any way extraordinarily deserved to 
 
 lose. 
 
 " I would desire you to give your absolute resolution, and to 
 give such an answer to this letter, and such order to the matters 
 therein mentioned, as soon after this comes to your hands as 
 you can conveniently for howsoever you determine our journey, 
 but especially if for Vienna. I purpose to be going out of Italy 
 as soon as the sharpness of the winter wiU give me leave, which 
 perhaps may be about the midst or end of February ; but I am 
 afraid that it will be the middle or end of March, for as I found 
 last year liy experience, and understand by common voice, the 
 winter falls out much sharper after Christmas than before, espe- 
 cially upon all those mountains either towards France or Hun-
 
 FRANCIS DAVISON. XXXV 
 
 gary, so as tbere is no good travelling tiU the end of JMarch or 
 beginning of April. But if it please you to resolve as, and to 
 give order and perfection to matters, we shall be at Venice to 
 take the first opportunity, and to work upon the advantage of 
 the year as it shall fall out. 
 
 "And so desiring the continuance of your favour, the excuse of 
 my follies, and to be recommended to 3Ir. Anthony and Mr. 
 Francis Bacon, INIr. \Vade, and the rest of my dear and honora- 
 ble friends, and lastly to my beloved sisters and brothers, I 
 humbly take my leave, with my prayers for your help and pre- 
 servation. Jjucca, the 20th of November, 1596, stilo novo. 
 " Your most obedient and loving son, 
 
 FiiA. Davison." 
 
 " The true name of one of these six unnatural Englishmen 
 which I mentioned in my last, is Alexander Fairclothe, as I 
 have since understood by a letter intercepted by a friend of 
 
 About the same time, Anthony Bacon again wrote to 
 Davison, chiefly, it would seem, to explain why their 
 patron, the Earl of Essex, had not fulfilled his inten- 
 tion of writing to him. 
 
 mr. anthony bacon to fkancis davison, esq. 
 
 " Sir, 
 " Albeit I know that the care, allegation, and plea of my 
 wonted infirmities at the bar of your respective kindness and 
 judgment, be sufficient to justify my silence since the receipt of 
 your two most welcome letters, yet should I have rejected it as 
 insufficient, unless it had been fortified with another impediment 
 
 • Addit. 3ISS. 4122, f. 103, et seq. 
 d 2
 
 XXXVl 15IOGRAPIIICAL NOTICES. 
 
 out of my power to redress, wliich was his Lordsliip's promise, 
 upon the sight of your first letter unto me, and of your Relation, 
 to signify his liking of hoth hy a few lines unto yourself, in 
 expectation whereof I have deferred till now, when seeing his 
 Lordship, by an extraordinary unlooked-for journey to the sea- 
 coasts, not likely to have a moment of leisure till his return, I 
 thought it high time to present unto you this my justification, 
 namely, by so sure a carrier as this liearer ray servant, called 
 Edward Yates,* who, having followed Sir Charles Davers in the 
 late French wars, with my leave and liking returneth now unto 
 him to attend him into Italy. I have given him chai-ge, so soon 
 as he meeteth Avith you, to advertise you particularly how things 
 stood at his departure from hence, and to offer you his service 
 when and wherein it may be any way acceptable or available 
 unto you. 
 
 " And so. Sir, in extreme haste sending this but as a poor 
 harbinger of so nolile a guest as I hope shall visit you shortly, I 
 mean the most worthy Earl's own letter, I must desire you to 
 excuse this my abrupt end, and to dispose of my best endeavour, 
 as he whom you shall find by proof at all times and occasions 
 rather than by protestation, 
 
 "■ Your most assured and loving friend to use." 
 Indorsed—" November 24, 159C."t 
 
 The long-promised letter from the Earl was at 
 length written ; and the following copy of it was taken 
 from the original. 
 
 * This individual is also spoken of as " my man Yates," in a 
 letter from Mr. Anthony Bacon to Sir Charles Davers, dated 
 20th July, 1596. Addit. MSS. 4120, f. 98. Some letters are 
 presei-ved in the same collection from Yates to Mr. Bacon. 
 
 ■f- Vol. xiv. Lambeth Library, marked No. 660, Anno 1 596 ; 
 vol. vii. Addit. MSS. in British Museum, No. 4122.
 
 FRANCIS DAVISON. XXXVll 
 
 I'llE EARL OF ESSEX TO MR. FRANCIS DAVISON. 
 
 " If this letter do not deli%'er to yon my very aiFectionate 
 wishes, and assure you that I am both careful to deserve well, 
 and covetous to hear well of you, it doth not discharge the trust 
 I have committed unto it. l\ly love to your worthy father, my 
 expectations that you will truly inherit his virtues, and the proof 
 I have seen of your well spending abroad, are three strong bands 
 to tie my affections unto you. To which, when I see added 
 your kindness to myself, my reason tells me it cannot value you 
 or affect you too much. You have laid so good a foundation of 
 framing yourself a worthy man, as if you now do not perfect the 
 work, the expectation you have raised will be your greatest adver- 
 sary. Slack not your industry in thinking you have taken great 
 pains already. Nunquam enim nee opera sine emolumento, nee 
 emolumentum sine impensa est. Labor voluptasgue, dissimiles 
 natura, socielate quadam naturali inter se conjuncti sunt. Nor 
 think yourself anything so rich in knowledge or reputation as 
 you may spend on the stock ; for as the way to virtue is steep 
 and craggy, so the descent from it is headlong. It is said of our 
 bodies that they do lenti augerere et cito extinguuntur ; it may 
 be as properly said of the virtues of our minds. Let your vir- 
 tuous father, who in tlie midst of his troubles and discomforts 
 hath brought you by his care and charge to that which you are, 
 now in you receive perfect comfort and contentment: learn vir- 
 tutem ab illo, fortunam ab aliis. I -nrite not this suspecting 
 that you need to be admonished, or as finding myself aljle to 
 direct ; but as he, that, when he was writing, took the plainest 
 and naturalest style of a friend, truly aft'ecteth to you : receive it 
 therefore, I pray you, as a pledge of more love than I can now 
 shew you ; and so desiring nothing more than to hear often 
 from you, I wish you all happiness, and rest 
 
 " Your very affectionate, 
 
 u R. Essex." 
 "Whitehall, 8th Jan. 1596." • 
 
 • 159(>-7. Harl. MSS. 1323, f. 248.
 
 XXXVIU BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 Nothing more is preserved relating to Davison 
 whilst on his travels, nor is it certain in what year he 
 returned to England ; probably, however, towards the 
 end of the year 1597- The annexed memoranda, rela- 
 tive to the books he took abroad with him, which are 
 taken from the original in his .own autograph,* and 
 written, with his usual neatness, in the order in which 
 it is here given, is deserving of insertion. The notes 
 relative to his MSS. are very curious ; and under the 
 " Manuscripts to get," the productions of some of the 
 most distinguished poets of the age are noticed. 
 Constable, and it is presumed Donne, were contribu- 
 tors to the Rhapsody, and it is likely that these 
 notes were made with a view to that collection. The 
 circumstance of many of his manuscripts being con- 
 nected with the Queen of Scots is explained by 
 the memorable part taken in her execution by his 
 father, and which produced the total wreck of his and 
 his family's fortunes. His mentioning among them 
 his father's Apology, satisfactorily refutes the highly 
 absurd opinion of Mr. Moleville,+ that that docu- 
 ment was " an entire forgery." 
 
 The memoranda about his " Manuscripts to get," it 
 it is evident, were made after the death of the Earl of 
 Essex in 1600: and the others were perhaps written 
 about the same time. 
 
 • Harl. MSS. 298, f. 151, et seq. 
 
 •\ Chronological Abridgement of the History of England, vol. 
 ii. p. 343.
 
 
 f 1 
 
 2 
 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 
 
 
 ^ \ 
 
 
 
 PLi 
 
 3 
 
 4 
 
 2 
 
 5 
 
 3 
 
 6 
 
 FUANCIS DAVISON. XXXIX 
 
 A NOTE OF ALL THE RELATIONS WHICH I CARRIED INTO 
 FRANCE, BOTH MINE OWN AND SIR. WROATH'S. 
 
 1 1 F.D. Conclave di Clemente 8°' 
 
 P.W. Breve Discorso sopra 1' Arsenale di Venetia. 
 
 P. W. Relatione deUa Sig"'' di Venetia quanta Ar- 
 
 mata mettono in Mare, quanto State & St. 
 
 P.W. Relatione di Terra Ferma d' Alniza Mo- 
 
 rengio, 1568. 
 
 F.D. Relatione di Dalmatia del Zane, 1588. 
 F.D. Nota di tutti i Magistrati di Venetia, 1580. 
 
 P.W. Relatione di Lucca. 
 
 P.W. -f-Discorso del Regno di Napoli. Observa- 
 tions out of divers. 
 
 P.W. Relatione del gran Ducatodi Toscana, 1576. 
 
 P.W. Del modo d' impationissi * di Portogallo i 
 Re Catolico. 
 
 P.W. Instructione al Sig"' Lodovico Orsino per la 
 Corte Calolica. 
 
 P.W. Instructione al Cardinal Gaetano. 
 
 P.W. Instructione al Sig'"Annibal di Capua, Nun- 
 tio alia Sign^'^ Venetiana. 
 
 P.W. Essortatione & Escusatione al Re Fran- 
 cesco del tenes Amicitia col Turco. 
 
 P.W. -fCose di Constantinopoli, 1584. 
 
 P.W. Relatione di Constantinopoli, del Barbaro, 
 1573. 
 
 P.W. Relatione di Constantinopoli, del Soranzo. 
 
 4 18 F.D. Relatione del Regno di Sicilia, di Ferrante 
 Gonzaga. chang'd. 
 
 5 19 F.D. Problema sopra 1' Imperio Turchesio. 
 
 • Sic, in the MS. 
 
 
 r 4 
 
 7 
 
 
 5 
 
 8 
 
 
 6 
 
 9 
 
 
 7 
 
 10 
 
 
 8 
 
 11 
 
 
 9 
 10 
 
 12 
 13 
 
 
 11 
 
 14 
 
 
 12 
 
 15 
 
 
 13 
 
 16 
 
 
 14 
 
 17
 
 BIOGRAPHJCAL NOTICES. 
 
 6 20 F.D. Relatione del Imperio Turcheso del Seli- 
 
 doni. 94. 
 
 7 21 F.D. Del Imperator Carlo 5° del Navagero, 1546. 
 
 f Lent to Mf. A. Bacon. 
 
 8 22 F.D. Siimmaria Instruttione del Imperio del 
 
 Turco. 
 
 9 23 F.D. Relatione di Spagna di Michel Surianoi 
 
 1573. 
 
 10 24 F.D. Relatione del Regno di Napoli, di Gero- 
 
 lamo Lippomani Amb™ a D" Gio. d' Aus- 
 tria. ^ 
 
 11 25 F.D. Memoriale quante furtano le RoUe della 
 
 Crociata & et. al Re di Spagna. 
 
 12 26 F.D. Discorso sopro le diiFerenze de' Genevesi. 
 
 13 27 F.D. Capitoli na'l Re Philippo & il Duca Cosimo 
 
 p' le cose di Siena. 
 
 14 28 F.D. Instrumentu' Ligae & Foederis inter Pium 
 
 6, Philippu' Catolicu' & Venetos, contra 
 Turcas, 1570. 
 
 15 29 F.D. Nota dell' Entrate Annue del Regno di 
 
 Napoli. 
 
 16 30 F.D. Discorso sopra la pace fatta da Sig'"iVene- 
 
 tiani col Turco di ]\fr. Paolo Paruta. 
 f To 31 r. A. Bacon. 
 
 17 31 F.D. Cause per le quali la Rep: Venetiana ha 
 
 fatto la pace col Turco. Incerto. 
 
 18 32 F.D. Risposta d' un Spagnuolo alia detta Giasti- 
 
 ficatione. -f- To Mr. A. Bacon. 
 1!) 33 F.D. Allegationi intorne le differentie sopra '1 
 Mar Adriatico, tra li Venetiani & la Casa 
 d' Austria. 
 
 20 34 F.D. Relatione delle Cose di Spag-na. Incerto. 
 
 1577. 
 
 21 35 F.D. Relatione del Imperio Turchesco 1' anno 
 
 1594, & perche habbia messo I'armi con- 
 tra Hungaria.
 
 FRANCIS DAVISON. xll 
 
 22 3G F.D. Relatione dello Stato di Milaiio, 158[). 
 
 Changed for one of ]Mr. Wroth's. 
 
 23 37 F.D. Oratioue del Vescovo Caserta Nuntio 
 
 Apost^o nelJa dicta di Varsovia, 1596. 
 
 
 15 38 P.W, Nota deUe Entrate della Sede Apostolica. 
 
 16 39 P.W. Della Casad' Austria, 1548. 
 
 17 40 P.W. Discorso sopra i Soggetti Papapili, a*'- In- 
 
 certo. 
 
 18 41 P.W. Relatione d' Inghilterra di Giovanni Mi- 
 
 chele, 1557. 
 
 19 42 P.W & A vertimenti al Cardinal Men - 
 
 talto. 
 — 43 P.W. Relatione della Fiandra & perche si rio 
 1586. 
 
 24 44 F.D. Enirate & Spese della Camera Apostolica. 
 
 25 45 F.D. Entrate & Spese deUa Sig"^ di Venetia. 
 
 -j-In hands of Mr. Smyth. 
 
 
 20 46 P.W. Parlamento di Carlo 5 al Re Filippo nella 
 
 Consignatione delli suoi Stati. 
 
 21 47 P.W. Ricordi deU' Imperatore Carlo 5", per il Re 
 
 Filippo suo figiiuolo, 1548. 
 
 26 48 F.D. Ordini necessarii al Regimento d' una Ar- 
 
 mata. 
 
 27 49 F.D. Relatione d'Urbino, di Lazaro Maconigo, 
 
 1570. 
 
 »>I f 22 50 P.W. Relatione de Swizzeri, Grigioni & Valle- 
 p^ I sani, &c. Incerto. 
 
 28 51 F.D. Relatione di Savoia del 1576. 
 
 23 52 P.W. Relatione di Savoia del S"" Sigismondo di 
 Cavalli, 1563. . 
 
 24 53 P.W. Relatione di Savoia del S"" Girolarao Lippo- 
 mani, a" 
 
 P.W. 24. 
 
 ^
 
 1 
 
 F.D. 
 
 2 
 
 P.W 
 
 3 
 
 P.W 
 
 4 
 
 P.W. 
 
 5. 
 
 F.D. 
 
 6 
 
 P.W, 
 
 7 
 
 P.W 
 
 xlii BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES, 
 
 On the other side of the preceding list, 
 
 COSE DI FRANCIA. 
 
 Ritratti del Regno di Francia. 
 
 Cose di Francia, 1589. Incerto. 
 
 Del Re Enrico 3. del Eiltrate, &c. & della Priucipi 
 
 propinqui alia Corona, lo- Incerto. 
 Relatione di Francia di Gio. Correr. Amba. Veneto. 1°- 
 Relatione di Francia nel tempo di Carlo 9° di Gio- 
 vanni Michele, 15C0. 
 Com'entarii di Francia. An Extract. 
 Lettera responsiva, interno la Francia. Incerto. 
 
 8 P.W. L'ra del Card' Moresini legato al Duca d' Vinena. 
 
 1589, 
 
 9 F.D. Discorso interno al Assolutione di Henrico 4o & ri- 
 
 ceverlo nel Gremio di Sta Chiesa. 
 
 10 F.D. Se '1 Re di Navarra facendosi Catolico, debba esser 
 
 relenedetto & avettato per Re di Francia.* Incerto. 
 
 11 F.D. Risposta d' un Gentilluomo Italiano interno la rebe- 
 
 ridittione del re Enrico 4. 
 Pregadi. di Venetia. 
 
 On the next leaf, 
 
 Books. 
 
 Tragedies de Mont-Chrestien, fr. Les (Euvres Poetiques du 
 Sieur de la Bergerie. Les Essais Poetiques du Sieur de Perat. 
 Les Travaux sans travail du Sieur d'Aviti. Recueil des GEuvres 
 du S'' Bertault Les (Euvres f du S"" Renyer Nepueu de feu 
 Mr Desportes, Celles du S"" Flaminio Beragno. Les honnestes 
 loisirs du S' de la Mothe Messeme. Les CEuvres de Mad"" de 
 
 * Sic, in the 31S. 
 
 •f All from this mark are in another hand.
 
 FRANCIS DAVISON. xliii 
 
 Gournay. Relivre de JMadii"^ de Beaulieii. Rabustes. Les 
 Amours Duvial et de Lunesse. Les advantures de Florida. 
 Celles D strimide. IVIerlyn Cocaye. L'hermapbrodite. Le Livre 
 du S"" Turguet de Mayerne. Le Nouvelle Franciade. Les lUus 
 Frau'ns de Gaule, nouvelle Imprimus. L'image du grand Cap"'' 
 
 par Pontaymery De la Sagesse, par le S' Charon. Le Sener 
 
 que Xpien. Le Curte de Henry le Grand 4^ de la nom en 
 France. Les Vengeance dyvines. Le Revers de Fortune. La 
 Perle Evangelicque. Le Miroir de Consolation pour les affliq'. 
 Centre les mal marier par le S' de Cournal Med. vers Noim- 
 ceaux, ou il est amplenaent transfu du Mari-agn. Nouveau 
 Tuanti* de Leucans tre pour le S' de Plessis Morny. Le Livre 
 de M. Duperron Ca"' a M. Casobon, nouvellez imprime. Le 
 Roxam Franceys. Le Contrefeu franc'. La Trompette Fran- 
 coise. Le Paisan francoys. La Philosophie des Esprit. Le 
 Tombeau des heretiques, livre excellent. 
 
 On another slip of paper are the following notes^ 
 likewise in Davison's hand, 
 
 PAPERS LENT. 
 
 -f-A great book of Instructions, to y*^ L. Zouche. 
 
 ■j-Sir Henry Savile's Oration to ye Queen at Oxford in Latine 
 
 and English The Bishop of Oxford. 
 
 Grayes In Sportes under Sir Henry Helmes. Eleaz Hogdsou. 
 
 ■|-My L. of Salisburie's Negociation in France. ) Mr. H. Biug. 
 Tables of Counsell by Dr. Bing. j Idem. 
 
 John Dun's * Satyres My br. Christopher. 
 
 Baronagium AnglijE.:j: Doctor Mondfort. 
 
 i" — These marks are prefixed in the manuscript. 
 
 * John Donne, Dean of St. Paxil's. 
 
 :}: It is very proliahle that the 3IS. thus described is now ex- 
 tant in Ilarl. MSS. ;{()4, f. 102, et seq.^ for that volume contains 
 several papers apparently in Francis Davison's autograph; and
 
 xliv BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICJ!;s, 
 
 My Discourse of Saxony. ) ,, 
 
 Tu T <• T? 1-1^ « > Monsr de la Faille. 
 
 My Li. ot Essex his Ire to me. * J 
 
 Rime et Satire d'Ariostcj Sr John Constable. 
 
 Remembrances. 
 
 All my hooks and papers w'' my brother Duncom hath. Among 
 wd' specially 
 
 The great French Bible, 
 
 Tremellius' Bible, 
 
 Thevet's Cosmography, 2 vols. 
 
 Parson's Answer to ye L. Cook, 
 
 Com'ines. 
 
 Papers. 
 
 My Father's Apology. 
 -|-His Answer at y Star-Chamber. 
 -)-Sir Henry Savile's Disconrse of ye Union. 
 
 Instructions for Ireland. 
 
 Tables of Counsell. By Dr. Bing. 
 ^Discourses about the Sc. Q. 
 
 On the other side of the paper marked " Remem- 
 brances," is the following note, over Avhich are several 
 memoranda in the liand of Ralph Starkey, partly erased : 
 
 Tremellius' Bible ^ 
 
 1 Part of Livy, French } ^^ '^'■- Christopher. 
 
 among other documents is an account of the Baronage of Eng- 
 land., early in the reign of James I., which in some places con- 
 tains additions in a hand very like the Poet's. 
 
 X This letter is presumed to be that which is printed in 
 p. xxxvii.
 
 FRANCIS DAVISON. xly 
 
 IManuscripts to get. 
 
 Letters of all sorts, especially by ye late E. of Essex. 
 Orations, Apologies, Instructions, Relations. 
 
 ,, , :, „ f late Queen, 
 
 aports, JM asks, and Jiintertaynments, to yf i r^,^ j'- 
 
 Emblemes & Impresaes. Qy. Those in White-liall Gallery. 
 Anagrams. 
 
 i Divine. 
 
 Poems of all sorts -I „ 
 
 ( Li umane. 
 
 Psalmes by y*" Countes of Pembroke. Q'f   If they shall 
 
 not bee printed. 
 
 Psalmes by Joshua Silvester. 
 
 Psalmes by Sir John Harrington and Joseph HaU.* 
 
 Satyres, Elegies, Epigrams, &c. by John Don. Qr^. some from 
 
 Eleaz. Hodgson-)- and Ben Johnson. 
 
 Poems by Ben Johnson. 
 
 Hen. Constable's 63 Sonnets. 
 
 Written Books, Discourses. 
 
 3Iy Br Dimcora A great Book of Instructions. 
 
 Dr Mondford. — Officers of y*- Crown of England and their fees. 
 
 Baronagium Angliae. 
 
 Genealogies des Maisons Illustre du Pays Bas. 
 
 A great Booke of Irish Discourses. 
 
 Certayne Bandes of yp.Estates to ye Queen, in a Booke. 
 
 A Booke of Recusants. 
 
 • Bishop of Exeter. 
 
 ■f Of the poetical productions of this individual, nothing is 
 known, nor is his name even mentioned by Ritson or Pliihps. 
 It would appear that he was a fellow student in Gray's Inn of 
 Francis Davison's. Some account of him will be found in Bliss, 
 ^^'^ood's Fasti Oxonienses, vol. i. pp. 328, 305.
 
 xlvi BIOGIIAPIIICAL NOTICES. 
 
 Certain Ii'ish I'res in fo. 
 
 Extract of y^ Booke of Instruction, 40. 
 
 The Manner of Proceeding against ye Queen of Scotts. 
 
 Arnies of y^ Nobillity & Gent, of Scotland, 80. 
 
 Qre 
 
 ■j-Sir Tho. Smyth's Dialogue touching- ye Q mariage, f. 
 ■fA relation of Spayne, f '. 
 f -(-A Discourse touching ye Matt. l)etween ye D. of "j 
 I Norfolke & ye S. Q. I 
 
 -' •j'Hales his book for ye succession of ye Heyres of ye J- 410. 
 j F. Queen. I 
 
 (^ -)- Allegations for Mary Q. of Scotts. J 
 
 Dialogue betwixt Browne & Fairfaxe touching Forren birth, 
 
 40, 
 Parte of Mr. Savil's translation of Tacitus, 4°. 
 A Breef Demonstration of ye State of England & Wales, fo. 
 Mr, Finche his Book of lawe, ould Edition, 4°, 
 -j-Sophistica, by W. Bright, 8''0- 
 Historye des Contes d'Egvemont, 4o. 
 Q""*^ An Extract of Corcelles' Negociation in Scotland, 1586, fo. 
 A devise for having a Marte Towne in England, 1571, fo. 
 Ralfe Lane's Relation of Virginia, fo. 
 Agricolaes life by Mr. Savile, f". 
 
 Dr Hamon's dialogue touching ye Justice of y^ So. Queen 
 Execution, fo. 
 •j-The Bishop of Rosse's Oration to ye Fr. K. Henry 3. 1574, 
 40. 
 Certayne Counsellors L'res & Instructions. Ed. 6. fo. 
 -f-Traicte de la France, 4o. 
 Copy of certaine I're to ye Councell. W. D.* 
 Notes touching ye Q. Mariage w' Mr d'Anjou, 40. 
 
 * Apparently his father's correspondence.
 
 FRANCIS DAVISON. xlvii 
 
 In the next folio, a long list of books* occurs, 
 classed according to subjects; but as the manuscript, 
 though extremely like Francis Davison's writing, is 
 not sufficiently similar to his other papers, to be cer- 
 tain that it was written by him, it is not here in- 
 troduced. 
 
 In 1600 the young Poet's pen was employed in 
 drawing up a defence of the marriage of Lady Eliza- 
 beth Russell with William Bourchier, third Earl of 
 Bath, who had been sued by Mary, daughter of Sir 
 Thomas Cornwallis, in 1581, relative to a marriage 
 stated to have been contracted with the Earl some 
 years before ; the particulars of which, as well as the 
 article itself, are given towards the end of this work. 
 This production, which is very well written, displays 
 considerable talent, and throws much light on that 
 very singular affair. It also affords some information 
 about the writer himself, for it appears that he then 
 enjoyed the protection of the noble house of Russell, to 
 two members of which, the Countesses of Cumberland 
 and Warwick, sisters of Elizabeth, Countess of Bath, 
 he afterwards addressed an ode in the Rhapsody. 
 Speaking of that family he observes, as the motive 
 for undertaking the task of refuting JMary Cornwallis's 
 charges, " to which myself am specially obliged, and 
 have always vowed my poor duty and service." To 
 what extent their patronage was bestowed we have 
 
 * This list is very curious and is well deserving of the atten- 
 tion of the bibliographer.
 
 xlviii BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 now no means of learning, but the probability is, that 
 he did not derive much advantage from it. 
 
 About the middle of 1602 Francis Davison published 
 the first edition of the Poetical Rhapsody, which 
 was thus noticed in a letter from Mr. Chamberlaine to 
 Sir Dudley Carleton,* dated 8tli July, 1602 : 
 
 " It seems young Davison means to take another course, and 
 turn poet, for he hath lately set out certain Sonnets and Epi- 
 grams." 
 
 This allusion to " another course," evidently meant 
 from the study of the law, for which profession it ap- 
 pears he was intended. The preface to the Rhapsody 
 affords some interesting particulars both of the work 
 and of its editor. Having, he informs us, yielded to 
 the solicitation of others, that he would publish some 
 of his poems, he added to them several by his brother 
 Walter, and his other friends, without their knowledge 
 or consent; and intended that their names should have 
 been withheld: but the printer not only affixed to the 
 greatest part the initials of the respective authors, but 
 inserted several by Sir Philip Sydney, with the motive 
 "to grace the forefront," ar, " to make the book grow to 
 a competent volume;" and he concludes by boldly set- 
 ting criticism at defiance, and by intimating his inten- 
 tion of soon publishing a work of more importance. 
 The Rhapsody, however, contains the only part of his 
 productions which appears ever to have been hitherto 
 printed ; but there are strong grounds for believing 
 
 * Addit. MSS. in the British Museum, 4173, f. 125.
 
 FRANCIS DAVISON. xlix 
 
 that he was then engaged upon, or at least meditated, 
 some other literary undertaking. A manuscript in 
 the British Museum* contains the following notes for a 
 " Relation of England," which seem to have been 
 thrown together as a sort of outline for a work with 
 that title, and, from the internal evidence, appear to 
 have been written between the years 1605 and 1612. 
 Whether this was the " graver work," to which he 
 alluded in the Preface to the Rhapsody in 1602, can- 
 not be determined, but the possibility that such was 
 the case, together with the curious specimen they pre- 
 sent of the manner in which he arranged his ideas, 
 render their insertion desirable. 
 
 FOR A RELATION OF ENGLAND. 
 
 Tlie 3 Kingdoms. 
 
 England. S' Th. Smyth's de Rep. Anglor'. 
 
 Scotland. Camden's Britannia. 
 
 Ireland. Lambert's book written. 
 
 Relations of England in 
 In wh':*' are 4 severall Nations. Botero. 
 
 English. Metterland's Story of 
 
 Welche. yc Low Countries. 
 
 Irish I ^*'^'" English ^ 
 
 L Wilde. Southerne. Scottish VChronacles. 
 
 Scottish Hylanders and Irish ) 
 
 Ilanders. Survey of London — Stowe. 
 
 The Fortes, Citties, Strong Townes, Castles, Garrisons. 
 The king's ships. 
 
 Ships of (^^'•'■- 
 
 L Marchants. 
 
 * Harl. MSS. 304, f. TJ. 
 e
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 Number of Artillery, j _ > of all sortes. 
 The Armory of ye Tower. 
 
 The People, &c. 
 
 Ancient before Henry 7th "J England. 
 The Nobillity, Created since, before K. J. rot Ireland. 
 Newly created since. ' Scotland. 
 
 Lordes of the Counsaile. 
 TheKing \ with thr. The Prince. Lieutenants of Counties. 
 TheQueen J '''"'''"'"• Duke of York. Officers of Household. 
 Lady Elizabeth. Great Officers of State. 
 Lady Judges and ye King's learn- 
 ed Counsell. 
 Cheefe Men in every Shire. 
 The Archbishops and Bishops. 
 
 Names, learning. 
 Revenues, chief Houses. 
 
 Ambassadors abroade in 
 
 France. 
 
 Spayne. 
 
 Italy. 
 
 Archeduke. 
 
 States. 
 
 Ambassadors fro' 
 
 France. 
 
 Spayne. 
 
 Venice. 
 
 Archduke. 
 
 States. 
 
 D. of Florence, &c, 
 
 Government of London, 
 with ye cheefe and 
 richest Citizens. 
 All ye King's Courte, with 
 ye Cheef Officers. 
 
 President of Wales, 
 President of ye North, 
 of Scotland. 
 Deputy of Ireland, 
 President of Munster, 
 
 L. Evers.* 
 L. Sheffield. 
 
 Sr Arthur Chichester. 
 Sr Henry Broncker, L. D. 
 
 * Lord Zouche's name was first inserted.
 
 FRANCIS DAVISON. li 
 
 Governourof Connought, E. of Clanrickard ; his Deputy, 
 
 Rob. Remington. 
 Gov. of the Isle of Wight, Earl of Southampton, 
 
 Governour of Garnzay, Si" Thomas Leighton. 
 
 Governour of Jersay, ' S"" John Payton. 
 
 SiUey. 
 Alderney. 
 Leiutenant of y Tower, S"^ William Wade. 
 
 Governour of Portesmouth 
 
 Capt. of the Fort of Plimouth, S"" Ferdinando Gorges. 
 Barwick. 
 Queen-borough Castle, S"" Edward Hoby. 
 Dover Castle 
 
 The 3 Fortes in y« Downes. 
 
 Ambassadors. 
 In France, S^ Gary. 
 
 In Spagne, Sr Cornwallis. 
 
 W^th ye Archeduke, Sr Thomas Edmonds. 
 W"" ye States, Mr. Winwood. 
 
 In Venice, S^ Henry Wotton. 
 
 Ambassadors here fro' 
 The French King. 
 King of SpajTie. 
 Arch Duke. 
 
 States, Sr Noel Caroun. 
 
 Venetians. 
 D. of Florence. 
 
 At this period in Francis Davison's life^ we are left 
 without the vslightest information of his future career, 
 beyond his being mentioned in his father's will in 1608; 
 and the exertions made by his present biographer to 
 trace him to the close of his existence have entirely 
 failed of success. It was this research, however, ^vhich 
 
 e 2
 
 lii BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 discovered the fragments at the end of this work, 
 and his other articles and memoranda here printed. 
 The unfortunate death of the Earl of Essex was a 
 severe blight to the prospects of the Davison family, 
 for during the Avhole of the Secretary's misfortunes 
 that generous nobleman proved himself a warm and 
 most faithful friend ;* and had he continued in power, 
 the fate of his children would, there is every cause for 
 believing, have been very diiferent. Francis Davison 
 lost his father on the 23d or 24th of December, 1608; t 
 and by his will he was bequeathed, out of the profits of 
 the office of Gustos Brevium of the King's Bench, which 
 had been granted to Secretary Davison and his assigns 
 during the lives of his friends and relations, George 
 Byng of Wrotham, Esquire, and Henry Byng of Gray's 
 Inn, Gent, one hundred pounds per annum ; and after 
 the payment of certain incumbrances, he was to have 
 half the profits of these appointments, with reversion 
 " to such children as he should leave of his body."t 
 
 Here, all trace of this accomplished man is lost, nor 
 can the period of his demise be satisfactorily establish- 
 ed, though some circumstances persuade us that he died 
 before the year 1619. There can scarcely be a doubt 
 that his brothers and himself, after their father's death, 
 became reduced to a state of poverty; for the Secretary 
 died much involved, and left nothing but the emolu- 
 ments of his office of Gustos Brevium of the King's Bench 
 
 * Life of William Davison^ Secretary of State to Queen 
 Elizabeth. «vo. 1822. 
 t IWd,
 
 FRANCIS DAVISON. Hll 
 
 to pay his debts and support his children ; and in 1610, 
 one of his executors was accused, as will be more fully 
 noticed when speaking of Christopher Davison, of 
 having appropriated that appointment to his own ad- 
 vantage. Though educated for the legal profession, 
 Francis Davison was never called to the bar ; and 
 the service of the ]\Iuses, for which he appears to have 
 abandoned more useful occupations, seldom yields any 
 substantial advantage ; and, as one of the contributors 
 to his own work justly observes, 
 
 Praise is the greatest prize that poets gain, 
 A simple gain that feeds them not a whit.* 
 
 An obscure life, and an early grave, may therefore, 
 with apparent certainty, be considered to have been 
 his lot ; nor is it the blind partiality of biography 
 Avhich assumes that his genius, talents, and accomplish- 
 ments, merited a far different fate. His person, from 
 no known portrait being extant, cannot of course be 
 imagined; but judging from the following line in 
 speaking of himself, it may be concluded that his face 
 was much marked with the small pox: 
 
 " Is 't that my pock-hoVd face doth beauty lack ?" -j- 
 
 Of his merits as a Poet, it would be almost super- 
 fluous to say any thing, because ample specimens are 
 contained in the following sheets upon which to form 
 a judgment. Most of those pieces were, however, as 
 he himself informs us in his Preface, written whilst he 
 
 * Page 70. t Page 144.
 
 liv 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 was on his travels, at which time he could not have been 
 above twenty years of age ; hence they ought not to be 
 judged with the same severity as if they had been the 
 productions of a maturer period of life. Without 
 being inHuenced by this consideration, it is not more 
 than is warranted by truth to say, that if he did not 
 reach the excellence of some of his contemporaries, 
 he far surpassed many who are infinitely better known 
 to posterity ; and in an age when almost every gentle- 
 man was a Sonneteer, we may fairly class Francis 
 Davison amongst the few who were more indebted to 
 nature than to art for tlieir poetical qualifications. Sir 
 Egerton Brydges, whose accurate judgment of early 
 English poetry few will have the hardihood to dispute, 
 has thus described Davison's productions : " A thought 
 of native beauty, a felicitous combination of simple, 
 elegant, and energetic words frequently catch the ear, 
 and convey a sudden thrill of sympathy and admiration 
 to the heart." * His translations of the Psalms are not 
 only the happiest of his efforts, but they have strong 
 pretensions to be placed amongst the best versions of 
 the inspired monarch which have ever appeared. 
 
 It is not, however, merely as a Poet that Francis 
 Davison is to be considered ; for from the large portion 
 of his correspondence and other papers, now printed, 
 we are enabled to estimate his talents on other sub- 
 jects. His letters prove him to have been no less 
 high-minded and affectionate, than he was intelligent 
 
 • Lee Priory Edition of the Rhapsody^ Part III. p. 2.
 
 FRANCIS DAVISON. Iv 
 
 and accomplished ; but his prudence is certainly far 
 from being satisfactorily evinced. Nor does it appear 
 that at the period when our information about him 
 closes he had acquired greater steadiness of conduct; 
 for his father's office was ordered by the Secretary to 
 be executed by his second son, Christopher, he paying 
 a proportion of the emoluments to his brother Francis. 
 Notwithstanding that Secretary Davison had several 
 children, he only makes a provision in his will for such 
 issue as his sons Francis and William may leave ; from 
 which it does not seem too much to infer, that they 
 had each a family in 1608 : but on this point nothing 
 positive has been ascertained. 
 
 Besides the articles by Francis Davison which are 
 printed in this work, there are several manuscripts in 
 the Harleian collection, which bear a strong resem- 
 blance to his writing, and may with great probability 
 be attributed to him, though the identity is not suf- 
 ficiently established to justify their insertion. Of these 
 the principal are, " That the Lord Treasurer Burleigh 
 endeavoured to suppress and keep down Mr. Secretary 
 Davison." *— Harl. MSS. 290, f. 237- " Names of 
 persons of rank put to death during the reigns of 
 Henry VII., Henry VIII., Edw. VI., and Mary."— 
 Ibid. f. 260. " Observables to be noted by a Travel- 
 ler." \—Ibid. f. 261, 262. " The Cypher used by Se- 
 
 • Printed in the Appendix to the Life of Secretary Davisoji 
 before cited. 
 
 •|- These notes are nearly a verbatim copy, so far as they 
 extend, of the first part of a small vohime, 16mo printed in
 
 Ivi BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 cretary Davkon."— Ibid. 291, f. 84. And " Tabula 
 Analytica Politica." — Ibid. 588, f. 3. 
 
 INIany of the papers of Secretary Davison now ex- 
 tant, are' indorsed by bis son Francis ; and the follow- 
 ing circumstances connected with them may serve to 
 some extent as a clue by which to unravel the mystery 
 in which the poet's fate is involved. The greatest part 
 of his manuscripts, as well as those of his father, were 
 in 1619 in the possession of the indefatigable Ralph 
 Starkey ; and on the 10th of August in that year, the 
 privy council issued a warrant, directed to Sir Thomas 
 Wilson, commanding him to repair to Starkey 's lodg- 
 ings, and to seize on all such papers and matters of 
 state as in time past were in the custody of Secretary 
 Davison.* That Francis Davison's manuscripts Avere 
 once in the hands of Starkey is manifest, from the 
 writing of the latter being in several of them now ex- 
 tant. These afterwards became the property of Sir 
 Simon D'Ewes ; and it is difficult, if not impossible, to 
 explain in what Avay either of the individuals in ques- 
 tion became possessed of them ; but the conclusion 
 seems evident, that as those belonging to the poet were 
 in the custody of Ralph Starkey in 1619, he must have 
 died before that year. 
 
 1633, entitled Profitable Instructions, describing what special 
 Observations are to be taken by Travellers in all Nations, States, 
 and Countries, pleasant and profitable, by the three much admired 
 Robert late Earl of Essex, Sir Philip Sydney, and Secretary 
 Davison. In Harl. M8S. 6893, is an imperfect copy of the 
 same, styled " Most brief but excellent instructions for a Tra- 
 veller, written by Secretary Davison for his son," Hence it may 
 be concluded, that Francis Davison transcribed the copy noticed 
 above, from his father's manuscript, for his own use. 
 
 • Harl. MSS. 286, f. 160.
 
 FRANCIS DAVISON. Ivii 
 
 The following Avretched acrostic by W. Fletcher, on 
 Francis Davison's name, and indorsed by him — 
 " W. Fletcher's acrosticke upon my name," is extant 
 in the Harleian Collection* in the British Museum., 
 
 " F aithfvil he is, and fully will perform 
 R espective promise to his own elect : 
 A ttend therefore his word, which will us foiin. 
 N ot any person is of true respect 
 C ountry or nation, with the Holy one, 
 (1 n all on earth) respect of persons none. 
 S ince it so, let all submission make 
 
 D esiring God to guard us in his fear. 
 
 A ssuring then ourselves for Christ's sake 
 
 V isions by night will then to us appear. 
 
 I n hope whereof I do my prayers rear 
 
 S ith nothing else, in me contignate is, 
 
 O nee every day to pray, I will not fail 
 
 N ot friend nor foe 'gainst Davison prevail. 
 
 Secretary Davison left by Katherine Spelman before 
 mentioned, four sons ; Francis, Christopher, William, 
 and Walter; and two daughters, wife of Town- 
 ley, and Katherine, who married Duncombe, 
 
 and obtained letters of administration to her father's 
 will ; but no account of either of his children besides 
 what is contained in these pages, has been discovered. 
 The ancestry of the Secretary is conjectured to have 
 been obscure, from the circumstance of his having in 
 1586 received a grant of arms; namely. Gules, a Stag 
 liippant, Or. Crest, on a wreath of the colours a Stag's 
 head, couped at the shoulders, and winged, Or; t pre- 
 vious to which he had used for his crest, a Stag trip- 
 pant, pierced through the neck ivith an arrow.X 
 
 * In Harl. MSS. 34?, f. 148. 
 ■f Coolers Grants, in the College of Arms. 
 X Vide his seal attached to several letters in the British Mu- 
 seum.
 
 CHRISTOPHER DAVISON. 
 
 Christopher Davison was, as has been just ob- 
 served;, the second son of Secretary Davison. It is 
 presumed that he was admitted of Gray's Inn in 1597,* 
 from which time, until the death of his father in De- 
 cember 1608, nothing is known of him. By the Secre- 
 tary's will, he was appointed to execute the office of 
 Gustos Brevium of the King's Bench, paying to his 
 brothers certain proportions of the emoluments arising 
 from it. 
 
 In March 1610, however, he petitioned parliament, 
 and as that document throws much light on the affairs 
 of his family, it is deserving of notice. 
 
 His petition stated, that " Queen Elizabeth, by letters patent, 
 19th January, 21 Eliz. granted to William Davison, Esquire, 
 the office of Gustos Brevium of the King's Bench, habendum after 
 the death of one Richard Payne, then Clerk of the same office. 
 The King's Majesty, after the death of the said Richard Payne, 
 by his letters patent, 25 July, 5 Jaq. confirmed and ratified 
 the Queen's grant, and further (at the humble petition of the 
 said William Davison) granted the reversion of the said office 
 unto George Byng, of Wrotham in Kent, and Henry Byng of 
 Gray's Inn, whose names he used in trust for the benefit of him 
 and his children, and payment of his debts, the greatest part 
 
 * Harl. MSS. 1912.
 
 CHRISTOPHER DAVISON. lix 
 
 whereof was such debts as were owing to them. William Davi- 
 son dieth, and (by his will in writing reciteth the said trust) 
 willeth the said George Byng and Henry Byng, or one of them, to 
 exercise his said office until his debts and dai"jhters' portions be 
 paid, and after such payment, or security put in for that pur- 
 pose, to assign over the said office, with the execution thereof, to 
 Christopher Da^-ison, second son of the said "W^illiam Davison. 
 After the death of the said William Davison, George Byng and 
 Henry Byng, by virtue of the letters patent, were sworn in and 
 admitted. Since, Christopher Davison hath offered payment of 
 all sums of money and charges whatsoever to the Byngs, owing 
 or by them disbursed, and to put in security for payment of the 
 other debts, and whatsoever else is required by his father's will ; 
 upon performance of which, he desireth (according to his father's 
 will) the said office to be assigned over unto him. Henry Byng, 
 confessing the trust, is well contented ; but George Byng, making 
 many pretences, unconscionably refuseth. The humble suit of 
 Christopher Davison imto the High Court of Parliament is, that, 
 after satisfaction of all debts and demands to the said Byngs, 
 and sufficient security put in for the payment of all other the 
 creditors of his father (whom his special desire is to have satis- 
 fied), the said office may be settled upon him and his assigns, 
 according to his father's will, during the lives of the said George 
 Byng and Henry Byng, and the longer liver of them. The 
 reason why he is driven to seek an Act of Parliament is, for that 
 he must disburse so great sums of money to the Byngs, which 
 they affirm to amount to £2000 and upwards, and besides to 
 pay the debts of his father, being very great. All which he 
 cannot furnish himself of without the help of his friends, whom 
 (unless it be by Act of Parliament confirmed unto him) he can- 
 not sufficiently secure, for that it is litigious whether the office 
 be in the King's gift, or the Lord Chief Justice's. And the 
 Raid office hath, in like sort, been heretofore confirmed to one 
 John Payne, by Act of Parliament, 'Mi Hen. VI 11.
 
 Ix BIOGIIAPIIICAL NOTICES. 
 
 " 1st. This is all the estate that William Davison hath left 
 his children ; and if they should be detained from it, they 
 are all utterly undone. 
 
 " 2nd. 'William Davison's creditors, (which are many, and 
 which, by his will, he desireth should be satisfied) by the 
 course which George Byng holdeth (denpng the trust) be 
 all defrauded, when Christopher Davison wiU pay them all, 
 according as his father hath appointed by his will.* 
 
 •A bill connected with this petition was read on the 
 14th March, 1610, and again on the 27th of the same 
 month ; and on the 10th July following, a motion was 
 made for counsel to be heard upon it ; + but nothing 
 more on the subject has been discovered, nor does the 
 slightest notice of Christopher Davison occur after this 
 period. 
 
 Though, like his brothers Francis and Walter, 
 Christopher Davison Avas a poet, it does not appear 
 that any of his productions are inserted in the Rhap- 
 sody ; and his only literary efforts which are known to 
 be extant, are translations of some Psalms, which will 
 be found in this work, and which are not without 
 merit. 
 
 • Lansdowne MSS. 91, f. 56. 
 
 -f- Journals of the House of Commons, vol. i. p. 448.
 
 WALTER DAVISON. 
 
 It is to the Preface to the Poetical Rhapsody 
 ■alone that we are indebted for the little information 
 we possess of Walter Davison. A letter is however 
 extant, dated London, 23rd December, 1581, from his 
 father. Secretary Davison, to Lady Mason,* Walter's 
 great grandmother, stating that he had " a young son" 
 born on the IMonday preceding, and that he wished her 
 to join with his honour her husband, Mr. Vicechamber- 
 lain, and her good nephew. Sir Thomas Shirley,* in 
 standing for him, though it was contrary to the usual 
 custom to wish a wife and husband to act as sponsors 
 upon the same occasion. The "young son" alluded to 
 was, there is little doubt, the subject of this notice ; 
 and we may therefore conclude that he was born in 
 London on Monday, 17th December, 1581, and Avhich 
 agrees perfectly with his brother Francis saying, in 
 1602, that he was not eighteen when the poetical effu- 
 sions by him, which are introduced into the Rhapsody, 
 were written. About the year 1602, Francis Davison 
 also informs us that Walter was in the Low Country 
 wars ; after which time no account of him has been 
 
 " See the genealogical table in a former page.
 
 Ixii BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 found. He is not mentioned in his father's will, and 
 it is therefore highly probable that he died between 
 the years 1602 and 1608, unmarried. 
 
 Walter Davison's poems must, at least, be thought 
 to hold out a fair promise of future excellence; for 
 they ought, in justice, to be considered as the mere 
 germs of a genius, which was never allowed to attain 
 maturity.
 
 SIR PHILIP SYDNEY. 
 
 Of Sir Philip Sydney, the Phoenix of his own, 
 and the admiration of succeeding times, scarcely any 
 thing can be related which will possess a claim to no- 
 velty ; for who is there unacquainted with every trait 
 in a character which affords the most gratifying ob- 
 jects for contemplation, which can be found in British 
 biography ? Magnanimity, Heroism, Poetry, and Vir- 
 tue, appear to have erected their thrones in his breast ; 
 and he whom sovereigns and their subjects equally 
 loved, honoured, and mourned, must have been possessed 
 of no ordinary merit. The idol of his own family ; the 
 friend of the best and wisest of his contemporaries ; 
 the patron of learning ; and, at once, the ornament and 
 the votary of every thing chivalrous and good. Such is 
 the picture presented to us of this illustrious indivi- 
 dual by those who, from being the companions of his 
 childhood, as well as of his maturer years, were un- 
 doubtedly competent to form a correct judgment of his 
 merits. The historian, the biographer, the poet, and the 
 painter, have combined to perpetuate the glory of his 
 actions ; and it must be confessed that they have rather 
 derived celebrity from, than conferred it upon their 
 subject. Sydney's splendid career, though short, was
 
 XIV BIOGUAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 terminated in a manner highly consistent with his life. 
 He died on the bed of honour ; and, as if nothing 
 should be left for imagination to supply in the charac- 
 ter of a Hero, the brightest and most magnanimous of 
 all his deeds was that which arose from his fatal wound ; 
 and familiar as the circumstance is, from the painting 
 of a distinguished artist, it is not possible to resist re- 
 lating it. When carried from the field of battle, ex- 
 hausted from pain and loss of blood, he eagerly de- 
 manded some Avater ; but at the moment it was brought, 
 his eyes fell on a dying soldier, and, turning the vessel 
 from him just as it had approached his lips, he desired 
 that it might be given to the object of his compassion, 
 observing, " This man's necessity is still greater than 
 mine." 
 
 Notwithstanding all which has been -written on Sir 
 Philip Sydney, a chronological abstract of the principal 
 events in his life,* may prove acceptable. 
 
 1554. Nov. 29 Sir Philip Sydney was born. 
 1569. Admitted a Member of Christ Church, Oxford. 
 
 Proposals made for his marriage with Mildred, 
 daughter of Lord Burleigh. 
 1572. May Left England to travel on the Continent. 
 
 Formed an intimacy with the celebrated Hu- 
 bert Languet. 
 
 1574. Arrived at Venice. 
 
 Became acquainted Avith Tasso and Ursinus. 
 
 1575. May Returned to England. 
 
 1576. Appointed Ambassador to the Court of Vienna. 
 
 * From Zouch's Life of Sydney.
 
 SIR PHILIP SYDNEY. Ixv 
 
 1577- Held the office of Cup Bearer to the Queen. 
 
 1578. Was invited by John Casimir, Count Palatine 
 
 of the Rhine, to join his army, which he 
 declined. 
 
 1579. Wrote to the Queen to dissuade her from mar- 
 
 rying Monsieur. 
 
 1580. Quarrelled with the Earl of Oxford. Retired 
 
 to Wilton, and composed the Arcadia. 
 
 1581. Was solicited to assist Don Antonio in obtain- 
 
 ing the Throne of Portugal, but with which 
 request he did not comply. 
 
 Was Knight of the Shire for the county of 
 
 Kent. 
 
 1582. Accompanied JMonsieur to Antwerp. 
 
 Composed the "• Defence of Poesy." 
 
 * Spenser dedicated his ShejjhenVs Cale7i(lar to 
 
 Sydney. 
 
 1583. Jan. 2? Applied to r>urleigh to l)e joined with the Earl 
 
 of Warwick '<■ in his office of ordinance," 
 but did not succeed. 
 
 Married Frances, daughter and sole heir of 
 
 Sir Francis Walsingham. A marriage had 
 long been contemplated between Sydney 
 and Penelope, daughter of Walter Deve- 
 reux, Earl of Essex, Init which never took 
 place. 
 
 1584. January. Received the honour of Knighthood at Windsor 
 
 Castle. 
 
 Was appointed to condole with Henry III. of 
 
 France on the" death of his brother the Duke 
 of Anjou; but it does not appear that he 
 proceeded on his mission. 
 
 Wrote his Answer to " Leicester's Common- 
 
 wealth." 
 
 ./
 
 Ixvi BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 1585. Proposed to join Sir Francis Drake in his se- 
 
 cond expedition. 
 
 Elizalietli, his only child, was born. 
 
 Is supposed to have lieen named as one of the 
 competitors for the crown of Poland, but he 
 is said to have declined the dignity. 
 
 Constituted a Privy Councillor. 
 
 Nov. 7- Was appointed Governor of Flushing. 
 
 Promoted to the office of General of the Horse 
 
 by his uncle the earl of Leicester. 
 158(5. May. Lost his father, Sir Henry Sydney, K. G. 
 
 July. Took the town of Axell, in Flanders. 
 
 August. His mother. Lady Mary Sydney, sister of 
 
 Robert Earl of Leicester, died. 
 
 Sept. 22. Was mortally wounded at the battle of Zut- 
 
 phen. 
 
 Oct. 17. Died at Arnheim, a;t. 32. 
 
 Nov. 5. His body arrived in London. 
 
 1587. Feb. 16. Was buried with great pomp at St. Paul's. 
 
 Sir Philip Sydney's contributions to the Rhapsody 
 consist only of Two Pastorals upon his 7neeting with 
 his Two worthy friends and felloiv Poets, Sir Edward 
 Dyer and Sir Fulke Grcoille, p. 29 to 35.
 
 SIR EDWARD DYER. 
 
 Notwithstanding that neither this individual nor 
 FuLKE Grbvillk, afterwards Lord Brooke, were con- 
 tributors to the Rhapsody, yet, as they are alluded to 
 in it, and were the intimate friends of Sir Philip 
 Sydney, between whom he ordered by his will that 
 his books should be divided, the following particulars 
 may be thought acceptable ; especially as many of the 
 circumstances relating to Dyer have not before been 
 noticed. The highly curious letters from him to his 
 patrons and associates, one of which is peculiarly de- 
 serving of attention, because it is presumed to afford 
 most important information on Queen Elizabeth's mo- 
 ral character, are believed to be for the first time 
 printed. 
 
 Sir Edward Dyer was the son of Sir Thomas 
 Dyer, of Somersetshire, Knt. the representative of an 
 ancient family in that county, by his second wife, the 
 daughter of Lord Poynings.* He is considered by 
 Anthony Wood to have been admitted either of Baliol 
 
 • Harl. MSS. 1141. The Orif/inal Heralds' Visitation of So- 
 mersetshire in 1 f»2.'{. But Sir Edward's motlier wiis, it is more 
 prol>al)le, the daugliter of one of tlie fjas/ard hrotliers of the 
 Thomas Lord Poyiiiiif^s, who died ivithout issue, l!5th May, 1545, 
 and who was the only person at that time to wliom the title of 
 peerage could be applieil. 
 
 . /2
 
 Ixviii BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 College, or of Broadgate Hall, Oxford ; but, like his 
 fellow poet Daniel, he left the university without a 
 degree, and travelled on the Continent. On his return, 
 he is- supposed to have become attached to the court, 
 and afterwards became known by the productions of 
 his Bluse. The earliest proof we possess of his deriving 
 any benefit from his attendance upon his sovereign, was 
 in the eighth year of her reign, 1566, when he ob- 
 tained a licence to pardon and dispense with tanning 
 of leather contrary to the statute of the 5th Eliz., and 
 to license any man to be a tanner.* 
 
 In 1571, he wrote the following letter to Mr. Smith, 
 from which it is evident that he was in some way con- 
 nected with Lord Leicester ; and, as will be stated 
 hereafter, there is little doubt that he possessed 
 very considerable influence over the mind of that 
 nobleman. 
 
 " To my very Friend Mr. John Smith, Esquire, at his Lodgings 
 
 by Bridewell. 
 
 " Sir, 
 " My L. of Leicester hath, since her Majesty's coming 
 ■hither, moved her concerning you. His L. hath let her know 
 what account hath been made of you abroad, and your worthi- 
 ness (in liis opinion) thereof. He willed her highness to consider 
 thereof, and how that your friends might find just cause to 
 persuade you (that if her Majesty did not entertain, encourage, 
 and grace you accordingly) to repair whither your reputation 
 liath been most advanced, again : which, if her Majesty should 
 
 " Lodge's Illustrations of British History.
 
 SIR EDWARD DYER.- Ixix 
 
 suffer it, would not only be a cooling to men's desires to learn 
 to serve their prince and country, but her Majesty should lack 
 him perhaps in need, and be thought abroad in the world care- 
 less of men given to virtue. 
 
 " Her Majesty hath made very gracious and wise answer, pre- 
 tending a full disposition to do you good, and taking nothing 
 away from the good opinion my L. set forth, but rather allowed 
 my L. his motion. 
 
 " So that my L. his advice is, that you repair to the Court, 
 and bad me write so unto yeu, with this, that he lacketli no- 
 thing but some particular matter wherein he might deal for your 
 good with her ^Majesty, which, if you will but seek out, you 
 shall not need to sue. Thus I have done his good L. command- 
 ments, and, as your assured friend, do wish you to join with 
 him herein ; and when you come to the Court, I will bestow an 
 advertisement on you for you to deal in if you like thereof. 
 
 " From the Court, the 2nd of August, 1571. 
 
 " Your friend, 
 
 " Edw. Dyer." * 
 
 In the ensuing year, his friend Sir Christopher 
 Hatton, the Vice-Chamberlain, incurred the Queen's 
 displeasure; and of the deep interest taken in the sub- 
 ject by Dyer, the subjoined letter of advice exhibits 
 undoubted proof. It is not, however, from that cir- 
 cumstance that this valuable letter derives its claim to 
 attention, but from the extraordinary allusions it con- 
 tains to Queen Elizabeth. 
 
 to sir christopher hatton. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 " After my departure from you, thinking upon your case 
 as my dear friend, I thought good to lay before you mine opi- 
 
 • Lansdowne IMSS. I'A, f. 40. Oritjinal.
 
 IXX BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 iiiou ill writing somewliat more at large than at my last con- 
 ference I did speak. And I do it of good wiU, for you need no 
 counsel of mine, I know right well. But one that standeth by 
 shall see more in the game than one that is much more skilful, 
 whose mind is too earnestly oceuj)it'd. I will not recite the argu- 
 ment, or put the case as it «'ere, for it needeth not, but go to 
 the reasons, such as tliey be. 
 
 " First of all, you must consider with whom you have to deal, 
 and what we be towards her ; who, though she do descend very 
 much in her sex as a ^voman, yet we may not forget her place, 
 and the nature of it, as our Sovereign. Now if a man, of secret 
 cause known to himself, might in common reason challenge it, 
 yet, if the Queen misUke thereof, the world followeth the sway 
 of her inclination. And never fall they in consideration of 
 reason, as between private persons they do. And if it be after 
 that rate for the most part in causes that may be justified, then 
 much more will it lie so in causes not to be avouched : a thing 
 to be had in regard ; lor it is not good for any man straightly to 
 weigh a general disallowance of her doings. 
 
 " That the Queen will mislike of such a course, this is my 
 reason. She will imagine that you go about to imprison her 
 fancy, and to wrap her grace within your disposition; and that 
 will breed despite and hatred in her towards you. And so you 
 may be cast forth to the malice of every envious person, flatterer, 
 and enemy of yours, out of which you shall never recover your- 
 self clearly, neither your friends, so long as they shew them- 
 selves your friends. 
 
 "But if you will make a proof par ver vramo as the Spanish 
 phrase is, to see how the Queen anil he will yield to it, and 
 it prosper, go through withal ; if not, to change your course 
 suddenly into another more agreeable to her 3Iajesty, I can like 
 indifferently of that. But then you must observe this, that it 
 be upon a by-occasion, for else it were not convenient, for divers 
 reasons that you cannot but think upon. 
 
 " But the best and soundest way in mine oinnion is, to put on
 
 SIR KDWARD DYEtt. Ixxi 
 
 another mind ; to use your suits toward her Majesty in words, 
 behaviour, and deeds ; to acknowledge your duty, declaring the 
 reverence which in heart you bear, and never seem deeply to 
 condemn her frailties, but rather joyl'ully to commend such things 
 as should be in her, as though they were m her indeed ; hating 
 my Lord of Ctm* in the Queen's understanding for aflection's 
 sake, and blaming him openly for seeking the Queen's favour. 
 For though in the beginning when her Majesty sought you (after 
 her good manner) she did bear with rugged dealing of yours, 
 until she had what she fancied, yet now after satiety and fulness, 
 it will rather hurt than help you. Whereas, behaving yourself 
 as I have said before, your place shall keep you in worship, your 
 presence in favour, your followers will stand to you; at the 
 least you shall have no bold enemies, and you shall dwell in the 
 ways to take all advantages wisely and honestly to serve your 
 turn at times. IMarry, thus much I would advise you to remem- 
 ber, that you use no words of disgrace or reproach towards him 
 to any, that he, being the less provoked, may sleep, thinking all 
 safe, while you do awake and attend your advantages. 
 
 " Otherwise you shall, as it were, warden him and keep him 
 in order, and he will make the Queen think that lie beareth all 
 for her sake, which will be as a merit in her sight, and the 
 pursuing of his revenge sluiU be just in all men's opinions, by 
 what means soever he and his friends shall ever be able. 
 
 " You may perchance be advised and encouraged to the other 
 way, by some kind of friends that will be glad to see whether 
 the Queen will make an apple or a cral) of you, which as they 
 find, will deal acconliugly witii you; following, if fortune be good, 
 if not, leave and go to your enemy, for sucli kind of friends 
 have no conunodity by hanging in suspense, but set you a lire to 
 do off or on, all is one to them, rather liking to have you in any 
 extremity, than in any good mean. 
 
 " But beware not too late of siu-h friends, and of such as make 
 
 * Apparently Lord Leicester.
 
 Ixxii BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICFS. 
 
 themselves glewe between them and you, whether it be of igno- 
 rance or practise. Well not to trouble you any longer. It is 
 very necessary for you to impart the eifect of this with your best 
 and most accounted friends, and most worthy to he so; for then 
 you shall have their assistance every way, who being made 
 pri^^ of your counsel, will and r)ught in honour to be partners 
 of your fortune, which God grant to he of the best. The l)th 
 of Octolier, 1572. 
 
 " \ouT assured poor friend to command, 
 
 " Edw. Dyer." * 
 
 The moral cliarixcter of lier Majesty is a question 
 upon which historians and biographers have been 
 long at issue ; but no document has ever fallen under 
 the Editor's observation which affords so much data 
 for forming a conclusive opinion. Of the authenticity 
 of the transcript from which it is taken there are 
 no just grounds of suspicion ; and the internal evi- 
 dence, when compared with Dyer's other letters^ parti- 
 cularly with that to Lord Leicester, in a subsequent 
 page, is strongly in its favour ; for it is certain that, 
 whether qualified for the task or not. Dyer was in the 
 habit of freely offering his advice. The first idea 
 which occurred on perusing the letter to Hatton was, 
 how far he would have risked committing such senti- 
 ments to paper, much less have recommended him to 
 impart the effect of his letter to his "best and most 
 accounted friends." But this doubt is removed by the 
 consideration that if Dyer was so well acquainted with 
 
 * Harl. MSS. 7JJ7, f- 88, being a Collection of Transcripts of 
 many Letters and Papei"s, said to have been found in the study 
 of ]\Ir. Dell, Secretary to Archbishop Laud — Catalogue of Har- 
 leian Manuscripts.
 
 SIU KDWARD DYER. Ixxiii 
 
 the existence of an intrlgne between Hatton and the 
 Queen, those whom he describes as the confidential 
 friends of the Vice-Chamberlain were, in all probabi- 
 lity, equally well informed. 
 
 Setting aside speculations as to what it would have 
 been prudent for Dyer to have written, we find among 
 a collection of documents of the period, this letter; 
 and, if it be admitted as a genuine transcript of the 
 original, it only remains to inquire whether the pas- 
 sages under consideration can bear any other inter- 
 pretation than those now put on them ; a point U])on 
 which the readers of this article must judge for them- 
 selves. The letter, it is clear, was written to dissuade 
 Hatton from the conduct he had marked out for him- 
 self towards the Queen, in consequence of the removal 
 of her usual favour ; but as, his friend justly ob- 
 serves, " those who stand by see more in the game than 
 those whose mind is too earnestly occupied," he offers 
 him his best counsel on the occasion. The expressions 
 that though she do descend very much m her sex 
 as a wo))ian, ijct thai lie must not forget that she 
 was still his sovereign ; that //' a man, of' secret cause 
 known to himself, might in common reason challenge 
 it, his case mas one not to be avouched; tliat the 
 Queen ivoidd imagine he meant to i)npriso)i her fancy 
 if he remonstrated, or showed his jealousy of his rival, 
 the nobleman to whom Dyer so cautiously alludes, and 
 who must have been Lord Leicester; that he should 
 not seem deeply to condemn her frailties; and, more 
 than all, the remark, that, though in the beginning,
 
 Ixxiv BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 when her Majesty sought him (after her good muti- 
 ner) she did hear with rugged dealing of his until she 
 had what she fancied, yet now, after satiety and fulness, 
 it would rather hurl than help him, — seem to admit of 
 no other construction than one of damning import to 
 the fame of the " Virgin Queen." * Nor^ it will be 
 seen, are these extracts at all contradicted or softened 
 by the context. 
 
 The aiithenticity of the preceding letter is further 
 corroborated by the following extract from a letter 
 
 * An accomplished literary friend, to whom this letter was 
 shewn, has oMigingly reminded the writer of these pages of the 
 charges hronght against l^lizabeth in the scurrilous pamphlet, 
 signed by Cardinal Allen, entitled An Admonition to ttie People of 
 England, a full account of which will he found in a note to Dr. 
 Lingard's admirable History, 4to. vol. v. p. (!60 ; 8vo. vol. viii. 
 p. 535. Without, by any means, crediting all the Cardinal's ac- 
 cusations, still it must be confessed that Dyer's letter gives some 
 strength to many parts of them, particularly to SirEdward's allu- 
 sion to Leicester. Speaking of his Lordship, he says, " In which 
 sort, besides others whom we need not note, she hath exalted one 
 special extortioner, whom she took up first of a traitor, and 
 worse than nought, only to serve her filthy lust; whereof to have 
 the more freedom and interest, he (as may be presumed, by her 
 
 consent) caused his own wife cruelly to be murdered." 
 
 " With the aforesaid person, and with divers others, she hath 
 abused her body against God's laws, to the disgrace of princely 
 majesty, and tlie whole nation's reproach, by unspeakable and 
 incredible variety of lust, which modesty suffereth not to be 
 remembered ; neither'were it to chaste ears to be uttered how 
 shamefully she hatli defiled and infamed her person and countrj^, 
 and made her court as a trap, by this damnable and detestable 
 art, to intangle in sin and overthrow the younger sort of the 
 nobility and gentlemen of the land, whereby she is become noto- 
 rious to the world, and in other countries a common fable for 
 
 this her turpitude. She does not marry, because 
 
 she cannot confine herself to one man." — And so far does the 
 Admonition carry the accusations on this subject, that an allu- 
 sion is made to " her unlawful, long-concealed or fained issue."
 
 SIR EDWARD DYER. IxXV 
 
 from Gilbert Talbot to liis father, the Earl of Shrews- 
 bury, dated in 1573, a few months only after Dyer's 
 was written; and as it also shows the humiliating 
 means by which Elizabeth's favourites sought the reco- 
 very of her favour when in disgrace, as well as Dyer's 
 compliance with the custom, and some memorable par- 
 ticulars about him, it is worthy of notice. 
 
 " Hattoii is sick still : it is tliouglit he will very hardly re- 
 cover his disease, for it is doubted it is in his kidneys. The 
 Queen goeth almost every day to see how he doth. Now, in these 
 devices (chiefly by Leicester, as I suppose, and not without 
 Btirghley's knowledge) how to make Mr. Edward Dyer as 
 great as ever was Hatton, for now in this time of Hatton's sick- 
 ness the time is convenient. It is brought thus to pass. Dyer 
 lately was sick of a consumption, in great danger ; and, as your 
 Lordship knoweth, he hath been in displeasure these eleven 
 years. It was made the Queen beUeve that his sickness came be- 
 cause of the continuance of her displeasure toward him, so that, 
 unless she would forgive him, he was like not to recover; and 
 hereupon her IMajesty hath forgiven him, and sent unto him a 
 very comfortable message. Now he is recovered again ; and this 
 is tlie beginning of this device." * 
 
 There can be little doubt that Elizabeth was ge- 
 nerally attached to some personal favourite. As she 
 changed the objects of her regard, Burleigh and Lei- 
 cester endeavoured to attract her affections towards 
 one of their own dependents ; and, if the construction 
 put upon the preceding letter be Avell founded, it 
 would be difficult to find any other motive for her 
 
 • Lodge's Illustrations of British Historij, vol. ii. p. lOL
 
 Ixxvi lilOGRAPHlCAL NOTICES. 
 
 favor than a sexual one. Hattou we know to have 
 been extremely handsome, and to have excelled in 
 many accomplishments ; l)ut neither he nor Dyer had 
 ever performed any public service worthy of the ap- 
 plause or countenance of their Sovereign. If Eliza- 
 beth's virtue, with respect to Hatton, be rendered ex- 
 tremely doubtful by tl'.e contents of Dyer's letter to 
 him, it may be inferred, that the attempt of Leicester 
 and Burleigh to make Dyer " as great as ever" the 
 Chamberlain had been, was to have been accomplished 
 in a similar manner. 
 
 It is not lightly, nor upon slight grounds, that the 
 character of any woman slioald be suspected, much less 
 when that woman was one of the m.ost powerful mo- 
 narchs that ever swayed the English sceptre. Not- 
 withstanding all the insinuations of historians, and 
 the unauthenticated stories bO commonly promulgated 
 against Elizabeth, the Writer's opinion was decidedly 
 against the justice of the accusations; but the letter 
 under consideration has produced a conviction of an 
 immediately opposite nature ; and with whatever re- 
 luctance the opinion of her immorality has been formed, 
 it is now, however, but too firmly established. This 
 important conclusion, if just, affords a key to many 
 parts of Elizabeth's conduct, which have hitherto been 
 irreconcileable with the magnanimity which she some- 
 times displayed. 
 
 To what extent Burleigh and Leicester's plan suc- 
 ceeded we are not informed ; but it was most likely 
 frustrated by Hatton's recovery. His sickness in- 
 deed, might have been only feigned; though, from the 
 manner in which Talbot speaks of it, and the attempt
 
 SIR EDWARD DYER. IxXvii 
 
 founded upon the danger in which he was supposed to 
 have been, rather tend to show tliat it was real. Nei- 
 ther the Queen's " comfortable message/' nor tlie pa- 
 tronage of such powerful friends, produced any sub- 
 stantial benefit to Dyer for nearly twelve years. But 
 early in 1584 it appears that he was sent on a diplo- 
 matic mission to the Low Countries ; for on the 28th of 
 February in that year, ]Mr. Faunt, in a letter to IMr. 
 Bacon, observes : 
 
 " This day Mr. Dyer is returned out of the Low Countries, 
 where he was lately employed by her IVIajesty to the Prince and 
 States : what is there effected you shall there know by my Lord 
 Ambassador."* 
 
 Soon after his return it seems, from the subjoined 
 letter, that he suspected that the favour of his patron. 
 Lord Burleigh, had declined ; and he was therefore in- 
 duced to A\'Tite to his Lordship on the subject. 
 
 To the Right Honorable the Lord Burghley, Lord High Treasurer 
 of England, &c. : my especial good Lord. 
 
 Right Honorable siv very good Lord, 
 
 We that live in Court do much observe covintenance in per- 
 sonages of the highest honor; and as they shew it favorable or 
 strange towards us, so we reckon more or less upon our reputa- 
 tion. Your Lordship's countenance hath sometimes been such 
 as I have taken great comfort of it ; but now of late I have 
 found it altered, though I cannot imagine any cause why it 
 should so be ; wherefore I have occasion to suppose, and I am 
 greatly afeared that the author of evil hath used his instruments 
 of this time to trouble my good fortune, for your Lordship doth 
 not (as the common humorish sort) put off and on your mind 
 
 * Birch's Memoirs of Queen Elizabeth^ vol. i. p. 4<J.
 
 Ixxviii UIOGEAl'HICAL NOTICES. 
 
 as a garment; and the countenance doth declare the mind. 
 May it therefore please your Lordship to understand that I do 
 heartily lament me of this misfortune; since I have long, and 
 still do honor you and yours. Secretly and openly, I will main- 
 tain it to l)e true by all ways. And I most humbly lieseech 
 your Lordship to admit me to some private speech the better to 
 satisfy my duty, whereby he, whom my Prince and Country 
 ought to love for his singailar merits and worthiness, may not 
 hold me one apt to bear false witness to the contrary. — At the 
 Court, the 7th of May, 1585. 
 
 " Your most honorable Lordship's, 
 
 to do you service, 
 
 Edward Dyer.* 
 
 From this letter it may be inferred that Dyer was at 
 that time rather an expectant, than actually possessed 
 of an official appointment. 
 
 This application appears to have hastened the object 
 of his wishes, for in 1586 the Queen granted him au- 
 thority to search for and iind out what manors, lands, 
 &c. were concealed or detained from her Majesty ; and 
 a copy of the articles of agreement, dated 26 August, 
 1586, between Lord Burleigh and himself, in which 
 he is described as " Edward Dyer, of Weston, in the 
 County of Somerset, Esq^" containing the conditions 
 upon which he uas to exercise that power, is still ex- 
 tant. This office was, however, only ])reparatory to 
 a grant of a more beneficial nature, but which Avas not 
 conferred upon hini for nearly two years. About this 
 period we again tind Dyer performing the disagreeable 
 office of giving advice, and to one whose hasty and im- 
 
 • Lansd. MSS. 4C, No. 4. Orig. Indorsed by Lord Burgh - 
 ley, " 7 May, 1585, Edw. Dyer, for speech."
 
 SIR EDWARD DYER. Ixxix 
 
 perious nature must have rendered it rather a hazard- 
 ous attempt. As we knoAV not in what manner Lord 
 Leicester received it, or the terms upon which he stood 
 with that personage, we cannot precisely estimate the 
 writer's hardihood; but his motives cannot be mis- 
 taken. Judging from tliis and the previous speci- 
 men of his zeal towards his friends, when he thought 
 his counsel would do good, the dispositictn of his heart 
 appears to us in a very amiable light; whilst the 
 soundness of his judgment and the clearness of his 
 views, do equal credit to his understanding. The 
 brief manner in which he speaks of Sir John Norris's 
 capacity is not a little amusing. The letter refers to 
 Leicester's expedition for the relief of Grave, which 
 was at that time besieged by the Prince of Parma. 
 
 to the earl of leicester, his excellency. 
 
 " Right Honorable, my especial good Lord, 
 
 " I HEAR that your liordship is in the field, with purpose to 
 fight ; which giveth great lioiior and lustre to your Lordship's 
 name, while so plain a demonstration of your Lordship's cou- 
 rage is made, and added to so many virtues and great ornaments 
 as the world acknowledgeth besides to he in you. In this deli- 
 beration of yours I doubt not but your licn-dship hath taken ripe 
 and deep advice, and therefore is near a presunijition to offer any 
 advertisement in that behalf; and j)eradvi'nture your Lordship 
 would mislike that any should go about to temper your feverish 
 desire to win honor and fame. Yet l)y the old proof of your 
 Lordship's wonted favour I cannot forbear to write even a word 
 or two, which, if I were so hap])y to be present, I would say to 
 your Lordship. 
 
 " Let it please your Lordship to consider that there be causes
 
 IXXX BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 why :i general should not tight. The first is, when (as it were 
 laying too great odds) his loss shall be more than he can gain. 
 
 " The second, when the General seeth that if he do fight, it 
 shall be upon disadvantage. 
 
 " The third, when not provoked by necessity himself, he per- 
 ceiveth that with time, he may weary his enemy. 
 
 " If I be not deceived, all these three cases are set in your 
 Lordship's action now in hand ; foi^ if y(iur Lordship be over- 
 thrown, not only you, liut the cause, the country, and all hope 
 of repair hereafter is gone also : when the Prince of Parma 
 loseth but himself and that day only; for Her Majesty will be 
 utterly discouraged, but the king of Spain will make up his 
 force again. So that your Lordship layeth (as I said) too great 
 odds to commit to peril or hazard, then three to one and much 
 more. 
 
 " The Prince of Parma is not inferior in numlter; he is above 
 yours in goodness of soldiers, captains, and counselship* for 
 the field ; and his horsemen, which (unless the place be unhappy 
 unto him, must needs give him victory) are twice so many and 
 twice so good, or my intelligence faileth. 
 
 " Long in the field for lack victual and other necessaries, he 
 is not like tarry ; and greater honor is it to obtain without dan- 
 ger than with it. 
 
 " I beseech your Lordship to weigh these things well; and if 
 any of the enemies part have promised secret service at the day, 
 put not your trust thereto, but let their act go before your dan- 
 ger. I would be much longer, but the messenger crieth for 
 haste, and bid be one of yoiu- side. At the Court, the 22nd of 
 
 May, 1586. 
 
 " Youi- Lordship's 
 
 at commandment, 
 
 Norris is not sufficient Edward DYER."-f- 
 
 for such a day. 
 
 * Query. 
 
 •f Original Galba, C. ix. f. 245. Sealed with a shield — a 
 chief indented, a crescent for difference : and indorsed, " M' 
 Edw" Dyer. Not to fight."
 
 SIR EDWARD DYER. Ixxxi 
 
 The zeal which Dyer displayed in the invidious task 
 of ascertaining what lands were withheld from the 
 croAvn, was in 1588 rewarded ; for, by a warrant, dated 
 on the 30th of JMarch in that year, the Queen granted 
 him all the lands which he had ascertained to have been 
 thus concealed before the 20th November, 1558, 1 Eliz. 
 for five years next ensuing.* This proof of Elizabeth's 
 favourable disposition towards him, corroborates the 
 assertions of his biographers, that he possessed a consi- 
 derable share of her good opinion, and which was fur- 
 ther evinced b^ his having been employed on many 
 diplomatic missions, particularly to Denmark, in 1589; 
 from which time until 1593, very little is known of 
 him. In that year Dyer again incurred her Majesty's 
 displeasure, from the manner in which he exercised the 
 duties confided to him by her warrant before noticed. 
 Of this fact we have undoubted testimony from the 
 following letter to his steady friend, Lord Burleigh. 
 
 " To the Right Honorable the L. Burghley, L. High Treasurer of 
 England, &c. my singular Patron. 
 
 " Right honorable my especial good Lord, 
 
 " It is the least that I ought to do, to acknowledge my duty 
 towards your L. yet I may not omit the same, especially now 
 upon this present occasion, since it hath pleased your L. to 
 use such favour as to answer generally for me before her Ma- 
 jesty ; and then in so honorable a manner to send for this bearer 
 to be informed more particularly, for to maintain that favour. 
 
 " Lansdowne MSS. 56, f. 42, in which there is a copy of 
 the warrant.
 
 Ixxxii BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 Such is your Lordship's honorable disposition, not to he con- 
 tented only to be most worthy of all honour, but to contend also, 
 l)y right worthy dealing, to kindle men's hearts with an extra- 
 ordinary desire to your service, which I unfeignedly do feel: 
 and so I beseech God to preserve your L. in long and healthful 
 life, and to fiU your honorable estate full of all prosperity. At 
 Winchester House, this xiiijt'' of March, 1592.* 
 
 " Vour most honorable bd". 
 
 I " Ever to sei've you, 
 
 Edward Dyer." t 
 
 A paper of Dyer's, entitled "The whole course of 
 my Proceedings, both l)efore and since the granting of 
 her Majesty's warrant unto me," is still extant ;t and 
 which throws much light upon the subjects to which 
 it relates. From the indorsement in Burleigh's hand, 
 " A Report by Mr. Dyer, of his State of the Govern- 
 ment of Coc'cl," it may be inferred, that he was in- 
 trusted with a command, but from the name being ab- 
 breviated, the precise place can only be conjectured. 
 
 His disgrace;, either from his innocence of the charges 
 brought against him, or through the influence of the 
 Treasurer, was but of short duration ; for on the death 
 of Sir John Wolley in 1596, the Queen conferred upon 
 him the chancellorship of the Order of the Garter, on 
 which occasion he received the honour of Knighthood — 
 a distinction which, like all other dignities, she very 
 cautiously and .rarely bestowed, and which may, there- 
 fore, be received as strong evidence of her Majesty's 
 
 » Qu. 1592-3. 
 
 t Lansdowne MSS. 73, f. 3?.
 
 SIR EDWARD DYER. Ixxxiii 
 
 esteem. Prom that period until his death, which is 
 presumed to have taken place about the year 1607^, 
 nothing appears to be recorded of Dyer's public ser- 
 vices or private pursuits. Though the time of his 
 birth has not been ascertained^ it is certain that he 
 lived to an advanced age, for as we have seen that he 
 obtained a grant from the crown as early as 1566, at 
 which time he must have been at least twenty-five 
 years of age, and was probably much older, it is almost 
 certain that at the death of Queen Elizabeth in 1601, 
 he was above sixty. The ground for believing that 
 Sir Edward Dyer died about the year 1607, is that 
 an account preserved in the British Museum,* of the 
 value of his lands, wliicli were then to be sold, as well 
 as of his debts, together with a statement of "• Monies 
 received by virtue of Sir Edward Stafford's warrant, 
 as for Sir Edward Dyer's warrant of concealment 
 between 1585 and the 29th of April, 1607," t close 
 with the year in question. 
 
 On tlie subject of Dyer's pecuniary affairs we have 
 two curious accounts; the one from the manuscripts 
 just alluded to, in M'hich it is calculated that his lands, 
 which were of the yearly rent of 130/. would, at one 
 hundred years' purchase, produce l.'V, 000/. ; and where 
 his debts are stated to have been 11,200/. 13.y. 8d. 
 The other statement is by the well-kno^^'n Aubrey., who 
 relates, that " he had four thousand pounds j)er annum, 
 and was left four-score thousand pounds in money. He 
 
 • Lansdowne MSS. 165. f. 320. -f Il)irl. 1. 3-2-2.
 
 Ixx 
 
 XIV BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 wasted it almost all. This I had from Captain Dyer^ 
 his great grandson^ or brother's great grandson. I 
 thought he had been the son of the Lord Chief Justice 
 Dyer, but that was a mistake. The Judge was of the 
 same family, the Captain tells me."* 
 
 Sir Edward Dyer died without issue ;t nor does it 
 appear that he ever was married. From the account 
 in the Lansdowne MSS. we may be convinced that 
 his effects more than paid his debts, but Aubrey's story 
 of his having had a legacy of 80,000/. is, to say the 
 least, extremely questionable, for so large an amount 
 was but very rarely bequeathed at the period in which 
 he lived ; and it may :ilso be asked, by whom could it 
 have been given ? Certainly not from his own relations, 
 for he was the younger son of a numerous family. 
 
 As a poet. Dyer's productions, though not entirely 
 without merit, would scarcely have been saved from 
 oblivion, had they not been preserved among those of 
 greater value. He was a contributor to the Collections 
 of Choice Flowers and Descriplions; and many of his 
 pieces will be found in England's Helicon and other 
 Avorks, but they have never been collected in a sepa- 
 rate volume ; nor indeed has much research been 
 before employed with respect to Dyer himself. Seve- 
 ral of his inedited pieces are extant among Dr. Raw- 
 Hnson's MSS. in the Bodleian Library, one of Avhich 
 Dr. Bliss, whose learning and industry are justly ap- 
 preciated, has given in his edition of Wood's Athenx. 
 
 * Bliss's Wood's Athen. Oxon. v. i. p. 743. 
 
 •\ Original Visitation of Somersetshire, Harl. MSS. 1141.
 
 SIR EDWARD DYER. IxxXV 
 
 Oxo7iienses.* There is likewise in the Ashmolean 
 Museum a poem by liim, entitled " A Description 
 of Friendship." 
 
 Sir Edward Dyer studied chemistry, and is consi- 
 dered to have been infected with the folly of the day, 
 by believing in astrological predictions and in the 
 transmutations of metals ; for, according to his own 
 statement, he saw, whilst in Bohemia, Dr. Dee and 
 Edward Kelly, the well-known astrologers, put base 
 metal into a crucible, and after it was set on the lire 
 and stirred with a piece of wood, it came forth in great 
 proportion perfect gold ! t 
 
 Of Dyer's character we have little information be- 
 yond what is afforded by his letters, and by finding 
 some Odes addressed to him by his contemporaries. 
 Both these sources are undoubtedly objectionable ; 
 the former because the picture they exhibit is drawn 
 by himself; and the latter, because no one would trust 
 to the evidence of merit afforded by a complimen- 
 tary poetical address. These considerations, how- 
 ever, though just to a great extent, are by no means 
 conclusive; for a man's correspondence often affords 
 traits of his heart and motives which cannot be mis- 
 taken ; and the individual who was frequently the ob- 
 ject of the admiration of poets, must either be endowed 
 with influence, or with sterling merit. Dyer, ever a de- 
 pendant himself, could scarcely have had any parasites 
 of his own ; and moreover, some of those ^^•ho thus com- 
 plimented liim moved in too elevated a sphere to Mat- 
 ter him from interested feelings. Another criterion by 
 
 • Vol. i. p. 743. t Il'id-
 
 IxXXvi UlOcaiAl'HlCAL NOTICES. 
 
 wliich to estimate his character, and which, according 
 to the well-known Spanish adage, is an infallible one, 
 is the friendships Avhich he formed. For the purpose 
 of ascertaining his moral worth, it would be idle to 
 speak of the existence of such a sentiment in relation 
 to Hatton, or others of the court, or to adduce the 
 good opinion entertained of him by Burleigh or Lei- 
 cester. The friendshi]) of courtiers is proverbially 
 hollow and insincere, and he was removed at too great 
 a distance from either of those noblemen for the ex- 
 istence of an intimate association. But there is one 
 individual whose esteem the biographer of Dyer may 
 with confidence cite, as evidence of his virtues — one 
 who was too elevated in soul and in situation, to ap- 
 plaud him from unworthy motives, and whose regard 
 Avas of that ennobling description that it conferred 
 honour upon its object. Of the whole court of Eliza- 
 beth during her long reign, there was but one person 
 to whom this description can apply; who, standing- 
 alone in that hemisphere of fraud and baseness, served 
 to prove to his contemporaries that there might be 
 splendid virtue without one counterbalancing vice. 
 In this description every one must recognize Sir Philiji 
 Sydney: and to say that Sir Edward Dyer was his 
 intimate friend and chosen companion ; that he men- 
 tions him with peculiar kindness in his Odes ; that 
 between him and Sir Fulke Greville he orders in 
 his Avill that his books— the most cherished gift 
 which one literary man can confer upon another — shall 
 be divided, seems to supply the most satisfactory proof
 
 SIR EDWARD DYER. IxxXVli 
 
 of Dyer's merit. Indeed so strong was the intimacy 
 wliicli subsisted between these individuals, that they 
 were denominated the Castor and PoHux of Poetry ! 
 Spenser styles them " the two very diamonds of Her 
 Majesty's Court ;" and we likewise possess the great 
 Lord Bacon's testimony of Dyer's abilities, who speaks 
 of him as " a grave and wise gentleman." * 
 
 His talents may be fairly judged of from the letters 
 now printed, and from his Poems. It is not too much to 
 attribute to him a superior understanding ; for he was 
 evidently shrewd, calculating, and prudent. His judg- 
 ment appears to have been sound and penetrating; and 
 the perspicuity with which he conveys to others the 
 opinions he had formed, as well as the reasons upon 
 which they were founded, display no common ability. 
 His advice to Hatton on the subject of his conduct to- 
 wards the Queen, is not overrated, if it be described as 
 a master-piece of policy. With proofs then, that Dyer 
 possessed the favour of his sovereign, and the good 
 opinion of her two most powerful ministers ; that he 
 Avas esteemed by Sir Philip Sydney, and on friendly 
 terms with most of his fellow-courtiers ; that he was 
 considered in a respectable light as a poet ; that he oc- 
 casionally filled confidential offices, and was in every 
 respect looked upon as deserving of all which he ac- 
 quired, it is not too high an eulogium of his character 
 to conclude this account of him by saying, that he was 
 equal in talents, attainments, and moral worth, to most, 
 and superior to many of his contemporaries. 
 
 " Zouch's Life of Sydney, p. 32it.
 
 SIR FULKE GREVILLE. 
 
 Though an accomplished courtier and a respectable 
 poet. Sir Fulke Greville, afterwards Lord 
 Brooke, is chiefly known as the friend of Sir Phi- 
 lip Sydney. His lineage is too well ascertained to re- 
 quire any more notice being taken of it here than to 
 observe, that he was the kinsman, as well as the 
 chosen associate of Sydney, both being descended from 
 Sir Edward Grey, the father of John Lord Grey of 
 Groby; and that, though this relationship was exceed- 
 ingly distant, still, as the claims of kindred were ad- 
 mitted when much farther removed than they would 
 be at the present day, it is not impossible that it 
 strengthened their friendship. Greville was intro- 
 duced at court at a very early age, and was so fully 
 possessed with the chivalrous desire of distinguishing 
 himself, that he incurred Queen Elizabeth's displeasure 
 by going abroad with the hope of being present at a 
 battle between Henry IH. of France and the King of 
 Navarre, for which offence he was banished the royal 
 presence for six months. His ardour was not, how- 
 ever, extinguished by this check ; for when Sir Philip 
 Sydney meditated joining Sir Francis Drake's expe- 
 dition. Sir Fulke, as he expresses it himself, " having 
 been brought up with him from his youth, was chosen
 
 SIR FULKE GREVILLE. Ixxxix 
 
 to be his loving and beloved Achates in this voyage ;" 
 but being discovered by her Majesty, they were com- 
 pelled, by the menace of her severest displeasure, to 
 return to the Court. 
 
 It was about this period of his life that he became 
 inspired with a taste for poetic composition, of which 
 several specimens are extant. On the death of Sir 
 Philip Sydney he became his biographer, and solaced 
 his grief for his loss by delineating his character and 
 virtues. During the latter part of the reign of Eliza- 
 beth he held several honourable offices, and at her 
 death Avas Treasurer of the Navy, a situation which he 
 had filled for some years ; and was created a Knight 
 of the Bath at James's coronation, loth July, 1603, 
 shortly after which event he was appointed Chancellor 
 of the Exchequer, and admitted into the Privy Council. 
 In right of his grandmother he was one of the coheirs 
 of the barony of Willoughby de Broke, a dignity now 
 vested in the representative of his sister Margaret, 
 who married Sir Richard Verney, Knight. By letters 
 patent, dated 19th January, 1620-1, Sir Fulke Gre- 
 ville was created a peer by the title of Baron Brooke, 
 of Beauchamp's Court, in the County of Warwick, with 
 limitation of that honour, failing his issue male, to his 
 kinsman, Robert Greville, Esq. the ancestor of the 
 present Earl and Baron Brooke, and Earl of War- 
 wick. On being raised to the Peerage he resigned the 
 Chancellorship of the Exchequer, and was constituted 
 one of the Gentlemen of the King's Bedchamber. He 
 was never married ; and wishing to perpetuate the
 
 XC BIOGKAI'HICAL NOTlCJiS. 
 
 honour of his name, settled all his lands by will, dated 
 18th February, 1627-o, on his relative Robert Gre- 
 ville, his successor in his honours. His death was pro- 
 duced by the treachery of one of his household, named 
 Heywood, who was a legatee in his master's will, but 
 being omitted in a codicil, by which an alteration Mas 
 made in the former testament, he, when alone with 
 him in his lordship's bedchamber, in Brooke House 
 in Holborn, warmly expostulated on the circumstance, 
 and in a moment of ungovernable rage, stabbed his 
 aged master in the back, and escaping into another 
 room, destroyed himself before he could be secured. 
 Lord Brooke languished a few days, and died on the 
 30th September, 1()28, in the 75th year of his age, 
 and was buried on the north side of the choir of the 
 church of Warwick, in an apartment which was ori- 
 ginally the chapter-house of the dean and canons, un- 
 der a monument of black and white marble, which he 
 had erected himself; on which v/as engraven the follow- 
 ing celebrated and romantic inscription, of which it has 
 been well observed, " that he could not have delivered 
 to posterity materials for an estimate of his character 
 more modest yet more comprehensive." 
 
 FULKE GREVILE, 
 
 SERVANT TO QUEEN ELIZABETH, 
 
 COUNSELLOR TO KIjSTG JAMES, 
 
 AND 
 
 FRIEND TO SIR PHILIP SYDNEY. 
 
 TROPH^UM PECCATI.
 
 MARY, COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE. 
 
 This distinguished woman was equally illustrious 
 by her birth and by her love of literature. As the 
 beloved sister of Sir Philip Sydney, to Avhom he 
 dedicated his Arcadia, her name must have been 
 preserved, had she not claims on the respect of pos- 
 terity independent of the celebrity conferred upon 
 her by others. A poet herself, she was the patron 
 of that " prince of poets," as Francis Davison em- 
 phatically terms him,* Samuel Daniel, and probably 
 also, in some degree, of Spenser. Her works, though 
 not perhaps entitled to great praise, are not void of 
 merit ; but they are chiefly deserving of attention 
 as evidence of the literary attainments of a female at 
 a period, when the pen did not so frequently usurp 
 the place of the needle as at present. The Tra- 
 gedy of Antlioiiy, done into English by the Conidess of 
 Pembroke; printed in 1595, and dated from Ramsbury, 
 26th November, 15'J0; An Ejccellenl Discourse (f Life 
 and Death, written in French ; done into English by 
 the Countess of Pembroke; dated Wilton, 13th IMay, 
 1590; and the Dialogue between Two Shepherds in 
 Praise of A sir ea, printed in the Poetical Rhapsody, 
 
 • P. 145.
 
 XCn BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 pages 39 to 41, are the only undoubted productions of 
 her pen. The version of the Psalms generally attri- 
 buted to Sir Philip Sydney, is considered by ]\Ir. Park 
 to have been the joint composition of his sister ; and 
 which opinion is corroborated by Francis Davison hav- 
 ing noticed some " Psalms by the Countess of Pem- 
 broke."* She was the third wife of William Herbert, 
 second earl of Pembroke, K.G., whom she married in 
 1625. This alliance Avas, it appears from a letter from 
 her father to his brother-in-law the Earl of Leicester, 
 so desirable to him, that he observes, he would " lye 
 a year in close prison rather than it should break." f 
 
 The Earl died at Wilton, 19th January, 1601, leav- 
 ing by his widow two sons : William, his successor in 
 the earldom, and to whom, probably from the remote 
 family connexion shown in a former page, Francis Da- 
 vison inscribed the Poetical Rhapsody; Philip; and 
 a daughter Ann, Avho died young. The Countess hav- 
 ing attained a very advanced age, died at her house in 
 Aldersgate-street, London, 25th September, 1621, and 
 was buried with her lord in Salisbury Cathedral. 
 
 The lines to her memory by Ben Jonson have been 
 so much and so justly admired, that nothing but their 
 extraordinary beauty could justify the insertion of 
 them in this place. 
 
 Underneath this marble hearse 
 
 Lies the subject of all verse ; 
 
 Sydney's sister, Pembroke's mother : 
 
 Death, ere thou hast slain another, 
 
 Great, and good, and fair as she, 
 
 Time shall throw a dart at thee. 
 
 • P. xlv. t touch's Life of Sydney^ p. 105.
 
 SIR WALTER RALEIGH. 
 
 The romantic life and melanclioly fate of Sir Walter 
 Raleigh; his splendid abilities; and, perhaps more than 
 all, the injustice he experienced, have combined to throw 
 an intensity of interest around his character, which has 
 rendered it familiar to every reader. Veiy little will 
 therefore be expected to be said of him in this brief 
 sketch of the contributors to the Poetical Rhapsody, 
 because nothing could be stated which would not be a 
 repetition of what has been so frequently and so much 
 more ably detailed. The plan adopted relative to Sir 
 Philip Sydney, of submitting a chronological abstract 
 of the most important events in his life, will therefore 
 be followed; but it is impossible to resist the tempta- 
 tion of first throwing a few poor flowers on a grave 
 which the choicest literary parterres have been cuUed 
 to adorn. 
 
 Descended from an ancient family, and inherit- 
 ing from nature its noblest gifts, both personal 
 and intellectual, Raleigh possessed all the chivalrous 
 ardour and devotion to high and dangerous enterprize 
 which characterized the age. Though at an early pe- 
 riod he became attached to the court, the life of a 
 courtier but ill agreed with his ardent spirit ; and as 
 no other opportunity presented itself by which he
 
 XCIV EIOGUAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 could obtain distinction, he eagerly prosecuted the dis- 
 covery of unknown regions. Rapidly rising in his so- 
 vereign's esteem, honours were abundantly bestowed on 
 him ; and, until his amour Avith the lady whom he 
 afterwards married, he continued to possess the good 
 opinion of the Queen Avithout interruption ; and his 
 merits and services fully justified her partiality. The 
 short season of her displeasure having soon passed 
 away, he was restored to his offices and to her favour. 
 From this event until death deprived him of his illus- 
 trious mistress, his career was as successful as his tran- 
 scendent talents deserved, or his ambition could desire. 
 The enemy of the impetuous Essex, he was viewed 
 with dislike by king James ; and almost the first act of 
 that monarch's reign was to displace him from some of 
 his appointments. His fortunes declined from that 
 era. A few months afterwards he was accused of liig-h- 
 treason, and though the real facts of the conspiracy 
 have never been, and probably never will be deve- 
 loped, after a trial, notorious for the manner in which 
 the forms of justice were trampled upon and despised, 
 Raleigh was condemned to suffer the ignominious 
 death of a traitor. The sentence, however, was sus- 
 pended, and for twelve years he was confined a pri- 
 soner in tlie Tower: on which circumstance his amia- 
 ble patron Henry, Prince of Wales, observed, with pe- 
 culiar shrewdness, that "^ no other king but his father 
 would have kept such a bird in a cage." 
 
 During his imprisonment his powerful and energetic 
 mind, disdaining the trammels which confined his body.
 
 SIR WALTER RALEIGH. XCV 
 
 employed itself in literary and scientific pursuits. 
 What, however, neither respect for his talents^ nor the 
 love of justice could produce, was at length effected by 
 a bribe, and Raleigh was released in March I6I7. No 
 sooner had he again tasted the blessings of freedom, 
 than he sought and obtained a commission for a voyage 
 to Guiana. The loss of his eldest son, sickness, and 
 other unavoidable misfortunes, were among the least of 
 the untoward results of this undertaking ; for the of- 
 fence given by it to the Spanish Court induced James 
 to adopt the cowardly policy of sacrificing a man who 
 was the glory of his reign, as a victim to its fury. 
 Immediately on Raleigh's return, his conduct was dis- 
 avowed, and he himself sent to the Tower, not for any 
 new offence he had committed, but that he might un- 
 dergo the execution of a sentence passed fifteen years 
 preceding ! Little as justice had been observed on his 
 trial, this most flagrant neglect of every sentiment 
 of humanity rendered the former proceedings pure 
 and spotless in the comparison ; but in despite of 
 every feeling, social and moral, public and private, 
 Raleigh was beheaded in Old Palace Yard on the 29th 
 October, 1618. 
 
 Thus fell a man who, in whatever age he had lived, 
 would have improved and adorned it. First in rank 
 in science, and in literature ; a most skilful com- 
 mander ; a poet, and a hero, Raleigh's name will live 
 for ever in the history of his country : whilst that of 
 the Prince who, though forgetful of the murder of his 
 own mother, could, either in revenge of that of his
 
 XCVl BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 fovoiirite Essex, or from the pusillanimous dread of 
 offending the Court of Spain, consent to the destruc- 
 tion of so illustrious a subject, must be remembered 
 with pity, if not with indignation. 
 
 Extraordinary as many of the events of Raleigh's 
 life were, it was, as is pointed out by his able biogra- 
 pher,* the most singular of them, that he should have 
 been condemned for a conspiracy in favour of Spain, 
 but that the sentence should only have been executed 
 in consequence of his hostile acts against that country ! 
 The intercession used by Anne, James's consort, in 
 favour of Raleigh, whilst it is highly honourable to her 
 memory, shows the rancorous feeling which existed in 
 the heart of her husband, that even her solicitations 
 should have been in vain. 
 
 1552. Sir Walter Raleigh was born at Hayes, in the 
 
 parish of Budley, in Devonshire. 
 
 1568. Became a Commoner of Oriel College, Oxford. 
 
 1569. October. Accompanied Henry Champernon into France 
 
 in aid of the Hugonots. 
 
 1575. Returned to England. 
 
 1577' Attended Sir John Norris to the Low Coun- 
 
 tries. 
 
 1579. Accompanied his half brother, Sir Humphrey 
 
 Gilbert, in his voyage to America. 
 
 1580. August. Was in Ireland, and served with distinc- 
 
 tion against the rebels. 
 
 1581. Spring. Was, with Sir William Morgan and Captain 
 
 Piers, appointed to govern the Province of 
 Munster. 
 
 * Cayley's Life of Sir Walter Raleigh.
 
 SIR WALTER BALEIGH. XCVU 
 
 1582. Introduced to Queen Elizabeth, and soon 
 
 after appointed to attend Simier, the agent 
 of the Duke of Anjou. 
 
 1583. 11th June. Accompanied Sir Humphrey Gilbert in his 
 
 expedition, but was forced back to Ply- 
 mouth. 
 
 1584. 25th March. Received the Queen's Patent to discover 
 
 " Remote Heathen Barbarous Lands," and 
 about the same time was granted another 
 patent for licensing the venders of wine. 
 
 27th April. Two vessels, fitted out by Raleigh, sailed in 
 
 pursuance of the said patent, and on the 
 4th of July they discovered Virginia. 
 
 Elected Knight of the Shire for the County of 
 
 Devon. 
 
 1585. Received the honour of knighthood. 
 
 Obtained a grant of 12,000 acres in the 
 
 Counties of Cork and Waterford, in Ire- 
 lau<l. 
 
 Appointed Warden of the Duchy of Cornwall, 
 
 and Lord Warden of the Stannaries in 
 Devon and Cornwall. 
 
 1586. Was constituted Captain of the Guard to her 
 
 Majesty, and Lieutenant-General of Corn- 
 wall. 
 
 1 587- Received a grant of the lands of Anthony Ba- 
 
 in ngt on. 
 Was at this time Gentleman of the Queen's 
 Privy Chamber. 
 
 1589. 7th March. Assigned over his patent of the Plantation 
 of Virginia. 
 
 About this year he had also a patent for 
 
 granting Hcences for the keeping of ta- 
 verns and for retailing wine. 
 
 Sailed under Sir Francis Drake and Sir .Tohn 
 
 h
 
 XCVlll BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 Noi-ris, to assist Don Antonio in his claim 
 
 to the throne of Portugal. 
 1589. August. The Earl of Essex " chased Raleigh from the 
 
 Court, and confined him in Ireland." 
 i5!)l. 27 Dec. Spenser dedicated Colin Clout come Home 
 
 again to Raleigh, though that poem was not 
 
 puhlished until 1595. 
 
 Raleigh Avrote his Defence of Sir Richard 
 
 Gren villa's action off the Azores with a Spa- 
 nish squdron. 
 
 1592. February. Sailed as General of the Fleet destined 
 
 against the Spanish Settlements in the 'West 
 Indies. 
 
 July. Was imprisoned in the Tower soon after his 
 
 return, for having seduced Elizabeth 
 Throkmorton, a maid of honour, whom he 
 however married. 
 
 September. Liberated from the Tower. 
 
 1593. Feb. to April. Distinguished himself in the House of Com- 
 
 mons as a speaker. 
 
 1594. Obtained a grant of the Manor of Sherborne, 
 
 in Dorsetshire; about which time he ex- 
 pected to have been admitted of the Privy 
 Council, having recovered the Queen's 
 favour, which he had lost from his affair 
 with Miss Throckmorton. In this year 
 also his eldest son Walter was horn. 
 
 1595. 6 Feb. Sailed from England on his voyage to Guiana. 
 
 July. Retiu-ned to England. 
 
 1596. 1st June. Sailed in the Fleet under the command of the 
 
 Earl of Essex against Spain. 
 
 10th Aug. Arrived at Plymouth. 
 
 1597' Was candidate for the office of Vice-Cham- 
 
 berlain, and endeavoured to be allowed to 
 exercise his office of Captain of the Guard,
 
 SIR WALTER RALEIGH. 
 
 XCIX 
 
 1597. June 1st 
 
 from which he had been suspended, pro- 
 bably when confined in the Tower. 
 Was reinstated in his office and in the favour 
 of the Queen. 
 
 July 10. Sailed as Rear- Admiral of the Fleet in the 
 
 expedition commonly called the Island 
 Voyage. 
 
 The fleet returned. 
 
 Acted as mediator, by the Queen's command, 
 
 between the Earls of Essex and Notting- 
 ham, and took his seat in the Parliament, 
 which met 24th October in this year. 
 
 1599. August. Constituted Vice-Admiral of the Fleet des- 
 tined to oppose the expected invasion. 
 
 IGOO. January. Disappointed in being made a Privy Counsel- 
 lor, he returned to Sherborne. 
 Returned to the Court, and renewed his ap- 
 plications for the office of Vice-Chamber- 
 lain ; soon afterwards he accompanied 
 Lord Cobham to Flanders, and returned in 
 a few weeks. 
 2Cth August. Appointed Governor of Jersey. 
 
 May. 
 
 IGOl. February. 
 
 27 th Oct. 
 
 lf.03. 
 
 Examined relative to Essex's conspiracy, and 
 acted as Captain of the Guard at his exe- 
 cution. 
 
 Was appointed to receive M. de Rosny, after- 
 wards Duke de Sully, and accompanied the 
 Queen in her progresses in this year. 
 
 Sat in Parliament as knight of the shire 
 for Cornwall, and was conspicuous in it as 
 a speaker on many important subjects. 
 
 Queen Elizabeth died, and Raleigh was de- 
 prived of his office of Cajitain of tlie (iuani. 
 and also of his patent for wines; in reconi- 
 
 h 2
 
 C L<I0GKAPI1ICAL NOTICES. 
 
 pense fox* which he received a ^rant of 
 'MOl. per annum. 
 1(J().'{. August. Accused as a party to Lord Cobliam's conspi- 
 racy, and was committed to the Tower, 
 where he is said to liave attempted to de- 
 stroy himself. 
 
 17 Nov. Tried at Winchester, and condemned and 
 
 attainted. 
 
 _ 15th Dec. Removed again to the Tower. 
 
 1C04. The goods and chattels forfeited by his at- 
 
 tainder granted to others. 
 
 1605. His second son, Carew, born. 
 
 1614. His " History of the World" published. 
 
 161G. 17th March. Released from the Tower. 
 
 2Cth Aug. Obtained a commission for a voyage to 
 
 Guiana. 
 
 1617. 28th March. Sailed with his fleet from the Thames. 
 
 November. Arrived at Guiana. 
 
 December. His eldest son, Walter, killed in an assault. 
 
 1618. JuneorJuly. Returned to England. 
 
 10th Aug. Apprehended near Woolwich in attempting 
 
 to escape, and committed to the Tower. 
 
 28th Oct. Summoned befoi-e the Court of King's 
 
 Bench, and the sentence passed on him in 
 November 1603, just fifteen years before^ 
 ordered to be carried into execution. The 
 King, however, directed that he should be 
 beheaded. 
 
 Thursday, 1 Beheaded in Old Palace- Yard. His bodv 
 
 -Jth Oct. J -^^ras buried in the chancel near the altar of 
 St. Margaret, Westminster ; but his head, 
 after being preserved for twenty-nine years 
 by his widow, is supposed to have been bu- 
 ried at West Horsley, in Surrey.
 
 SIR WALTER RALEIGH. CI 
 
 The only poem printed in the Rhapsody which 
 was undoubtedly -written by Raleigh, is, A Poesy to 
 prove Affection is not Love, p. 276 to 278; but Sir 
 Egerton Brydges, in tlie Lee Priory edition of that 
 work, has attributed every article signed Ignoto or 
 Anomos, as well as that excessively beautiful poem. 
 The Lie, to his pen; though that elegant writer after- 
 wards admits that the reason which induced him to do 
 so was not so well grounded as he expected. Some 
 remarks on The Lie will be found in a note appended 
 to it, Avhere the observation that it could not, from the 
 date, have been written, as is pretended, by Sir Walter 
 the night before his execution, is repeated. It is ne- 
 vertheless possible that it was written by Raleigh the 
 night before he expected to have been executed at 
 Winchester, November 1G03, a circumstance which is 
 perfectly reconcileable to dates, and in some degree 
 accounts for the tradition alluded to.
 
 SIR JOHN DAVIES.* 
 
 Sir John Davies was born in 1570^ at Chisgrove, 
 in the parish of Tylsbury in Wiltshire, and was the 
 son of an opulent tanner of tliat place. At the age 
 of fifteen he became a Commoner of Queen's College, 
 Oxford, where his progress in his studies was highly- 
 creditable ; and after taking a degree in Arts, he en- 
 tered himself of the Middle Temple, by which Society 
 he was called to the Bar. Having quarrelled with, 
 and beaten, Richard ]\Iartin, afterwards Recorder of 
 London, at dinner in the Hall, he was expelled the 
 Society ; when he returned to Oxford, and there com- 
 posed his admirable poem, Nosce Teipsiim, which was 
 published in 1599, in quarto, and dedicated to Queen 
 Elizabeth. By the interest of the Lord Keeper Eger- 
 ton, Davies was restored to the Society of the Middle 
 Temple, practised at the Bar, and was elected a mem- 
 ber of the Parliament which met at Westminster in 
 1601. On the death of Queen Elizabeth he went, 
 
 * As the biographical sketches of Davison, Sydney, and 
 Dver, have nearly occupied the whole space which it was in- 
 tended to give to the notices of the Contributors to the Rhap- 
 sody, this and the following must be as brief as possible.
 
 SIR JOHN UAVIES. ClU 
 
 with Lord Hunsdon, to congratulate King James upon 
 his accession ; and being recognized by him as the 
 author of Nosce Teipsum, was most graciously received. 
 James's favour towards Davies was soon displayed by 
 his appointing him Solicitor, and shortly afterwards. 
 Attorney General in Ireland. Whilst holding the lat- 
 ter office the kino; conferred the honour of knighthood 
 upon him, on the 11th February, 1607- He was con- 
 stituted King's Serjeant 30th June, 1612, and is said 
 to have been appointed Chief Justice of the King's 
 Bench in 1626, but he died suddenly of apoplexy on 
 the 7th December, in that year before he had taken his 
 seat. Sir John Davies married Eleanor Touchet, 
 daughter of George, Baron Audley, and Earl of Castle- 
 haven in Ireland ; which alliance, it seems, took place 
 about iVIarch 1609:' the only issue of it was a son, who 
 was an ideot, and a daughter, Lucy, who married Ferdi- 
 nando, sixth Earl of Huntingdon, and by him had four 
 sons and six daughters. The Countess died in 1652. 
 
 Davies's works are well known ; hence it is only 
 necessary to allude to his contributions to the Rhap- 
 sody. The first article. Yet other Twelve Wonders of 
 the World; A Lolferij presented before the Queen; 
 and, A Contention betwixt a Wife, a Widow, and a 
 Maid, were certainly Avritten by him; but it is doubt- 
 ful whether the Hymn in Praise of Music, f and the 
 
 * See a letter from Chamlierlaiiie ain()ii<j tlie Aildit. IMSS. in 
 the British 3Iuseuni, noticed in Part III. p. 215, of the Lcc 
 Priory E'lition of the Rhapsody. 
 
 t P. 2(J1.
 
 CIV BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 Te7i Sonnets lo Philomel,* which follow it^ signed I. D. 
 were his productions, or those of John Donne, the 
 celebrated Dean of St. Paul's. Sir Egerton Brydges 
 observes, that " they seem rather to partake of the 
 I conceits of Donne than of the simple vigour of Da- 
 vies;" and the idea that Donne was the author of them 
 is in some degree supported by Francis Davison's note 
 of Manuscripts lo get, apparently for the Rhapsody, 
 among ^vhich were, Sati/res, Elegies, Epigiams, Sfc. by 
 John Don.f 
 
 • P. 263 to 271. t See p. xlv.
 
 EDMUND SPENSER. 
 
 As a contributor to the Rhapsody, the immortal 
 Spenser claims a place in these biographical sketches; 
 butj like Raleigh and Sydney, his name is too gene- 
 rally known by the world, to justify any other account 
 of him than a slight abstract of the principal events 
 of his life. 
 
 Spenser is said to have been born in East Smithfield, London, 
 about the year 1553. His pedigree is unknown, for though he 
 claimed to be related to the ancient family of his name in 
 Northamptonshire, the connexion has never been ascertained. — 
 He was educated at Pembroke Hall, Cambridge.* 
 
 1573. January. Took his degree of A. E. 
 
 1578. Proceeded M. A., and retired to the Nortli, 
 
 in consequence of being disappointed of a 
 Fellowship. 
 About this period he became enamoured of his 
 Rosalind, and is presumed to have written 
 his Shepherd's Calendaii, and which 
 obtained the patronage of Sir Philip Sydney, 
 to whom it was dedicated. 
 
 1579. Was sent abroad liy the Earl of Leicester. 
 
 1580. Became Secretaiy to Arthur Lord Grey of 
 
 Wilton, on that nobleman being appointed 
 Lord Deputy of Ireland. 
 
 * Sir Egerton Brydges's edition of Philips's Theatrum Poe- 
 tarum.
 
 CVl 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 1582. 
 
 158G. June 27. 
 
 1587, 
 
 1588. 
 1590. 
 
 January. 
 
 1591. February. 
 
 1595. 
 159C. 
 
 1597. 
 
 Returned to England on Loi-d Grey being re- 
 called ; and is presumed from this time to 
 1586, to liave been employed in the compo- 
 sition of the Faerie Queene. 
 
 Obtained a grant of 3000 acres in the county 
 of Cork, in Ireland, part of the estate for- 
 feited by the Earl of Desmond. 
 
 Took possession of his estate in Ireland, and 
 seated himself at Kilcolman, near the river 
 Mulla, where he continued until visited by 
 Sir Walter Raleigh, when he was persuaded 
 by him to prepare the three first books of 
 the Faerie Queene for publication. 
 
 Accompanied Raleigh to London. 
 
 The three first books of the Faerie Queene 
 appeared in 4to. About this period he mar- 
 ried, and appears to have retiu-ned to Ire- 
 land, where he composed three additional 
 books of the Faerie Queene, and other 
 Poems. ' 
 
 Obtained a pension of 50/. a year from the 
 Queen. 
 
 Published his Colin Clout come Home again. 
 
 He wrote A Vieiv of the State of Ireland ; 
 and in this year the fourth, fifth, and sixth 
 books of the Faerie Queene appeared, 
 when he is presumed to have again come 
 to London. 
 
 In this year Spenser has been supposed to 
 have closed his mortal career, in Ireland ; 
 though Camden states, that being obliged to 
 return to England in 1598, in consequence 
 of Tyrone's rebellion, when his fortune was 
 plundered, he died either in that oi the fol-
 
 EDMUND SPENSER. CVll 
 
 lowing year. His decease, it has been re- 
 cently stated, occurred in I^ondon on the 
 16th of January, 1598-9. He was buried 
 in Westminster Abl)ey, at the expense of 
 the Earl of Essex. In the rebellion alluded 
 to, Ben Jonson asserts that Spenser's goods 
 were robbed ; his house and little child 
 burnt ; that he and his wife narrowly 
 escaped a similar fate ; and that he refused 
 twenty pieces sent him liy the Earl of 
 Essex, and gave this answer to the person 
 who brought them — " That he was sure he 
 had no time to spend them." Spenser is 
 related to have left two sons, Sylvanus and 
 Peregrine ; and in the reign of Charles II., 
 Hugolin Spenser, a great grandson of the 
 poet, is recorded to have been restored to 
 part of his father's lands. 
 
 Dr. Birch * cites the following lines from Parnassus, 
 or the Scourge of Siinony, puhUqiU'li/ ucled by the Stu- 
 dcjils in St. John's College in Cambridge, printed in 
 1606j as evidence that Spenser died in a very destitute 
 condition. After eulogizing the poet, it is observed, 
 
 " And yet for all, this unregarding soil 
 Unlac't the line of his desired life, 
 Denying maintenance for his deare reliefe. 
 Careless care to prevent his exequy. 
 Scarce deigning to shut up his dying eye." 
 
 Such are the only facts known of a man whose works 
 will be coeval with the language in which they are 
 
 • Memoirs of tlie Ileigti of Queen Elizabeth.
 
 CVIU BIOGUAPHICAL NOTICES, 
 
 Avritten ; and however much it is to be regretted that 
 more minute particulars of his life and character have 
 not been preserved, it is at least consoling to his ad- 
 mii'er to reflect, that of all who have adorned the lite- 
 rature of their country, or who are identified with its 
 fame, in none can the loss alluded to be, of less im- 
 portance ; for the mighty genius of Spenser was alone 
 safhcient to render his name imperishable. 
 
 The only article from his pen which was introduced 
 into the Rhapsody, is an elegy entitled Loves Em- 
 bassy, which will be found in p. 290.
 
 JOSHUA SYLVESTER. 
 
 Thk biograpliy of this individual, avIio was known 
 by tlie name of " silver-tongued Sylvester," and who 
 is described by Sir Egerton Brydges * as the most po- 
 pular writer of King James's reign, is extremely scanty. 
 He was educated by his uncle W. Plumb, Esq. and is 
 said to have been a merchant adventurer. 
 
 Distinguished alike by his moral conduct, his piety, 
 his patience in adversity, his talents, and his acquire- 
 ments, he obtained the respect of Queen Elizabeth, of 
 James the First, and of the amiable Henry Prince of 
 Wales. In 1597 he was a candidate for the situation of 
 secretary to the merchant adventurers of Stode ; and 
 the Earl of Essex in that year Avrote two letters, the 
 one of a private nature to iMr. Ferrars, the Deputy Go- 
 vernor, and the other a public one to the Company, 
 strongly recommending him for the appointment ;t but 
 whether the application was successful has not been 
 ascertained. 
 
 Sylvester's chief production was a translation of 
 Du Bartas' Poem on the Creation, :j: to which some of 
 
 • Preface to the Lee Priory edition of the Rhajysody, p. 70. 
 f Birch's Memoirs of Queen Elizabeth^ vol. ii. page 34). 
 
 * This poem went through Ihirty-eif/ht editions in five years, 
 and was translated into Latin, English, (iernian, Spanisli, and 
 Italian. — Lee Priory edit, of the Rhapsody, p. 72.
 
 ex BlOGllAl'HICAL NOTICES. 
 
 his o^y:n poems were added. With the French, 
 Spanish, Dutch, Italian, and Latin hinguages, he is 
 stated to have been well acquainted ; but his forward- 
 ness in exposing and correcting the vices of the age, 
 excited a powerful resentment against him ; and his 
 country, it has been observed, having treated him with 
 ingratitude, he retired to IMiddleburg in Zealand, 
 where he died in 1618, aged fifty-five. 
 
 A list of Sylvester's works will be found in Ritson's 
 Bihliographia Poefica; but it would appear from Da- 
 vison's memorandum of Manuscripts to get,* that he 
 had also written some Psalms. 
 
 His production in the Rhapsody consists only of a 
 Sonnet, which is inserted in p. 288. 
 
 * Page xlv.
 
 HENRY CONSTABLE. 
 
 This writer is presumed to have been descended 
 from the ancient family of that name in Yorkshire, 
 and to have taken his degree of B.A. at St. John's 
 College, Cambridge, in 1579. It is evident that he 
 was a Catholic, and that he was in the employment of 
 Mary Queen of Scots, of whom, in one of his Sonnets, 
 he speaks as his dear mistress. His political opinions 
 caused him to be banished for many years from this 
 country ; and in 1595 he was at Paris, from which 
 place he -wrote thus to Anthony Bacon,* dated 6th of 
 October, in that year. 
 
 " It was my fortune once to be beloved of the most part of the 
 most virtuous gentlemen of my country ; neither think I that I 
 have deserved their evil liking since : I trust I have given my 
 liord of Essex sufficiently to understand the dutiful atFection I 
 bear to my Country; and all my Catholic countrymen that know 
 me, are witnesses how far I am against violent proceedings." 
 
 In January 1596, Constable was at Rouen, and 
 A\Tote from thence to the Countess of Shrewsbury, im- 
 ploring her to obtain permission for him to retiirn to 
 England.^ Shortly afterwards he came privately 
 
 * It is from this letter, which is preserved in the library of 
 the Archbishop of Canterbury, that the facsimile of his auto- 
 graph was taken. 
 
 ■f- These letters are printinl in Lodge's Illustrations of British 
 History; but the Editor says, he can neither affirm nor
 
 CXll BIOGllAPIIICAL NOTICES. 
 
 to London ; but being soon discovered^, he was impri- 
 soned in the Tower^, from which he was released in the 
 latter end of the year 1604, after which event nothing 
 can be traced of him. 
 
 One of his contemporaries^ in 1606, speaking of 
 Constable, says, 
 
 " Sweet Constable doth take the wond'ring ear, 
 And lays it up in willing imprisonment." 
 
 and in 1616, Eolton in his Hijpercritica, alludes to him, 
 
 " Nolle Henry Constable was a great master of the English 
 tongue ; nor had any gentleman of our nation a more pure, 
 quick, or higher delivery of conceits." 
 
 From the construction of the passages just quoted 
 it may be inferred, that Constable was living in 1606; 
 but that he was dead Avlien noticed by Bolton in 
 1618. 
 
 His only contribution to the Rhapsody was one 
 Sonnet, addressed to the Countesses of Cumberland 
 and Warwick, printed in page 292 ; though Francis 
 Davison includes in his memorandum of Manuscripts to 
 gel,* " Hen. Constable's 63 Sonnets," which is very 
 nearly the number in the manuscript collection of his 
 Sonnets, lately discovered by the Rev. John Todd, f 
 
 deny that this Henry Constable was the poet. Sir Egerton 
 Brydges, however, conceives that there can l)e little douI)t on the 
 point ; and hence, in the Lee Priory Edition of the lihapsody, 
 from which the above account has been almost entirely taken, 
 lie has spoken with certainty of the poet being the writer of this 
 correspondence. 
 
 * Piige xlv. -f Lee Priory Edition of the Rhapsody^ p. 123.
 
 ROBERT GREENE* 
 
 This unfortunate poet was a native of Norwich, and 
 is supposed to have heen born about the year 1550. 
 His father is said to have been a citizen of that place, 
 and, by the exercise of trade, to have accumulated a 
 sufficient fortune to send his son to the university of 
 Cambridge, where he was admitted of St. John's Col- 
 lege, and proceeded B. A. in 1578; not long after which 
 he travelled into Italy and Spain. In 1583 he took 
 his degree of M. A. at Clare Hall, and it has been 
 asserted that he soon afterwards entered into holy 
 orders, and was the individual who was presented to 
 the vicarage of Tottesbury in Essex, on the 19th of 
 June, 158>4; but, as will be more fully stated, there 
 are good grouiuls for believing that he was ordained 
 nearly eight years before. 
 
 His chief, if not only occupation was, however, com- 
 posing plays and amatory pamphlets ; and he appears 
 to have fallen into the lowest courses of vice and de- 
 bauchery ; conduct which, as it has been well re- 
 marked, was totally inconsistent with the duties of his 
 sacred office. An author by profession, and the asso- 
 
 • The following notice of Greene has been chiefly taken from 
 the biograpliical memoir prefixed to the reprint hy Sir Egertou 
 Brydges of Greene''s GroaCs-tmrth of Wit.
 
 CXIV BIor.llAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 date of some of the most dissipated of his contempo- 
 raries, his pecuniary resources and his morals seem to 
 have been equally wretched : and this period of Greene's 
 career was, it seems, afterwards the subject of his 
 heartfelt and poignant regret. About 1586 he is sup- 
 posed by Mr. Park to have married an amiable woman, 
 whom he deserted. 
 
 With the exception of an account of Greene's publi- 
 cations, and his quarrel with Gabriel Harvey, the pre- 
 ceding notice embraces all which was known of him 
 by his accomplished editor ; but from the following ex- 
 tract from Kilmer's Fcedera, referred to in Lansdowne 
 MSS. 982, i 187, as an addition to Anthony Wood's 
 account of Robert Greene, who died in 1592, it would 
 appear that he was in 1576 one of the Queen's chap- 
 lains, and that her IMajesty presented him to the rec- 
 tory of Walkington, in the diocese of York. 
 
 " Anno 157C- Regina, dilectis Nobis in Christo, Decano et 
 Capitulo Ecclesiae nostras Cathedralis et Metropoliticae Ebora- 
 censis, aut Vicario suo in Spiritualibus Generali et Officiali Prin- 
 cipal! aut alii cuicumque in hac parte potestatem habenti, Sa- 
 int em. 
 
 " Ad Rectoriam sive Ecclesiam Parochialem de Walkington 
 Eboracen. Diroces. per mortem Johannis Newcome ultimi Incum- 
 bentis ibidem, jam vacantem et ad nostram Donationem et Prse- 
 sentationem pleno jure spectantem, Dilectum Nobis in Christo, 
 Robertum Grene, unum Capellanorum nostrorum Capellae nos- 
 tras Regiae, vobis tenore Praesentium praesentamus, Mandantes et 
 Reqnirentes quatenus eundem Robertum Grene ad Rectoriam 
 sive Ecclesiam Parochialem de Walkington prajdictam admittere, 
 ipsumque Rectorem ejusdem ac in et de eadem cum suis Juribus 
 et Pertinentiis universis instituere et investire, caeteraque om-
 
 UOBERT GREENE. CXV 
 
 nia et singula peragere facere et perimplere, quae vestro in hac 
 parte incumbunt Officio Pastorali, velitis cum favore. In cujus 
 rei, &c. 
 
 " Teste Regina apud Gorhambury tricesimo primo die Au- 
 giisti. 
 
 " Per breve de Private Siyillo.'''' * 
 
 In the Lee Priory edition of the Rhapsody, Greene 
 is said to have been born in 1550, but in other 
 works, + in 15(50. If the preceding document relates 
 to the poet, he must, in 1560, have been at least nine 
 or ten years of age, which agrees with the statement 
 that his birth took place in 1550. 
 
 He died in September 1592, of a surfeit, occasioned 
 by eating pickled herrings, and drinking Rhenish 
 wine with them. His real character is perhaps better 
 displayed by the following letter to his wife, than by 
 any evidence afforded by his writings, or by the de- 
 scription whicli has been given of it. Remorse is 
 generally the attendant of a heart naturally good, 
 though perverted by seduction or accident ; for, as the 
 immortal Johnson has so justly observed, " where there 
 is shame, there may in time be virtue." It is thus 
 gratifying as well as useful to peruse the effusions 
 of repentance ; to contemplate the mind, led away 
 by the erratic wanderings of genius, and the proud 
 belief that s])lendid talents justitiod, or at least exte- 
 nuated those excesses, which in others would infallibly 
 
 • Ri/mcr\'! Foedera, tome xv. p. 76'>- 
 f Bliss' ^^'ood's Athen. Oxon Groat" s-tcorth of IVit, be- 
 fore cited. 
 
 i 2
 
 CXVl BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 excite contempt, at last, sensible of the folly of its 
 opinions ; and prostrate, either from sickness or grief, 
 relieving an overburdened conscience by making every 
 possible atonement. The letter of Greene to his ami- 
 able but ill-used wife, may therefore justly be deemed 
 the most valuable of his Avritings, both to himself as 
 redeeming in a great degree his former errors, and to 
 others as a warning and an example. 
 
 " The reijiembrance of many wrongs offered thee, and thy 
 uiireproved virtues, adds greater sorrow to my miserable state 
 than 1 can utter, or thou conceive. Neither is it lessened by 
 considerations of thy absence (though shame M'ould let me hardly 
 behold thy face) but exceedingly aggravated ; for that I cannot 
 (as I ought) to thy own self reconcile myself, that thou mightest 
 witness my inward woe at this instant, that have made thee a 
 ^v•oeful wife for so long a time. But equal Heaven hath denied 
 that comfort, giving, at my last need, like succour as I have 
 sought all my life : being in this extremity as void of help as 
 thou hast been of hope. Reason would, that after so long waste, 
 I should not send thee a child to bring thee greater charge : but 
 consider he is the fruit of thy womb, in whose face regard not 
 the father's so much, as thy own perfections. He is yet green, 
 and may grow straight if he be carefully tended : otherwise apt 
 enough (I fear me) to follow his father's folly. That I have 
 offended thee highly I know ; that thou canst forget my in- 
 juries I hardly believe ; yet, jjcrsuade I myself, if thou saw my 
 wretched estate, thou couldest not but lament it : nay, certainly 
 I know thou wouldest. All my wrongs muster themselves about 
 me. Every evil at once plagues me. For my contempt of God, 
 I am contemned of men ; for my swearing and forswearing no 
 man will believe me ; for my gluttony I suffer hunger ; for my 
 drunkenness, thirst ; for my adultery ulcerous sores. Thus God 
 hath cast me down, that I might be humbled and punished for
 
 ROBERT GREENE. CXvil 
 
 example of other sinners. And although he suffers me in this 
 world to perish without succour, yet trust I in the world to 
 come to find mercy by the merits of my Saviour, to whom I 
 commend thee, and commit my soul. 
 
 " Thy repentant husband for his disloyalty, 
 
 " RoBEHT Greene." 
 
 Greene died, as may be expected from what has 
 been already stated, extremely poorj and his reviler 
 Harvey informs us that he did not leave enough to 
 bury him. What became of his son is not known, nor 
 are we acquainted with the name of his wife. 
 
 His productions are extremely numerous, and are 
 decidedly marked by wit and genius ; but his only 
 contribution to the Rhapsody was the translation of 
 Anacreon's third Ode in p. 247-
 
 SIR HENRY WOTTON. 
 
 Though but the contributor of a solitary article to 
 the Rhapsody^ An Elegy of a Woman's Heart* the in- 
 tention of noticing each of the writers whose produc- 
 tions are contained in it, renders it necessary that a 
 few words should be said of him. 
 
 Sir Henry Wotton Avas a younger brother of Ed- 
 ward Lord Wotton, of Maberly, in Kent, and was 
 born at Bocton Hall in that county, in 1568. At a 
 proper age he was sent to Winchester, whence he re- 
 moved to Oxford, and afterwards spent several years 
 on the Continent. t On his return, his accomplish- 
 ments procured him the notice of the Earl of Essex; 
 but on that nobleman's execution he went to Florence, 
 and was honoured with the confidenee of the Grand 
 Duke of Tuscany ; who, having intercepted some let- 
 ters developing a plot for the assassination of James 
 VI. of Scotland, sent Wotton to acquaint him with it. 
 Soon after that monarch's accession he received the 
 
 * P. 275. 
 
 -|- It is not unlikely that the " Mr. Wo." mentioned by Mr. 
 Smyth in his letter to Secretary Davison, p. viii. was the indivi- 
 dual noticed in the text.
 
 SIR HENRY WOTTON. CXIX 
 
 honour of knighthood, and was frequently employed in 
 diplomatic missions. About the year 1623 Sir Henry 
 was made Provost of Winchester College, which situ- 
 ation he held until his death, in 1639, aged seventy- 
 one. 
 
 As a statesman and a writer Sir Henry Wotton was 
 equally distinguished ; nor was he less esteemed for 
 the amiable qualities of his heart : but from his cha- 
 racter having been drawn by a biographer whose 
 works, much more from the caprice of public taste 
 than from their own value^ are in every person's hands, 
 Wotton has obtained a celebrity which his own merits 
 would never have procured.
 
 JOHN DONNE. 
 
 In the brief notice of Sir John Davies it was ob- 
 served, that the Hymn in Praise of Music, and the 
 Ten Sonnets to Philomel, signed I. D. in pages 261 to 
 272 of the Rhapsody, were, for the reasons there as- 
 signed, supposed to have been the production of John 
 Donne, Dean of St. Paul's, rather than of Davies. 
 As, however, it is far from certain to whom they 
 should be attributed, all which will be here said of 
 Donne is, that he was born in 1573 ; and though ori- 
 ginally destined for the law. King James, to whose 
 notice he was introduced, thought him better qualified 
 for the Church; in consequence of which he took 
 orders, and Avas appointed one of his Majesty's chap- 
 lains. In 1621 he became Dean of St. Paul's, in -which 
 situation he died in 1631. 
 
 Dr. Donne Avas no less eminent as a divine than 
 as a poet ; and his Satires, to which Francis Davison 
 alludes,* were republished by Pope. It must be ob- 
 served, that the translation of the 137th Psalm, print- 
 ed in a subsequent page, from the belief that it was 
 written by Francis Davison, is, with a few verbal 
 alterations, included among the poems of Donne. 
 
 * Page xlv.
 
 THOMAS CAMPION. 
 
 This ^vriter flourished as a poet and physician 
 during part of the reigns of Elizabeth and James the 
 First. He was educated at Cambridge^, but no parti- 
 culars of his life or family can be found. From the 
 " Admittances to Gray's Inn/'* in which a Thojias 
 Campion is stated to have been admitted a member of 
 that Society in 1586, and who is in a great measure 
 identified as the poet, from his having composed a 
 song for the Gray's Inn Masque, it would appear that 
 he was originally intended for the profession of the 
 law. By his contemporaries he is styled " Sweet INIas- 
 ter Campion ;" and he was famous as well for his 
 musical as for his poetical talents. 
 
 Campion is presumed to have made his wUl in Oc- 
 tober 1621, and which was proved in January I623.t 
 His pieces in the Rhapsody are, A Hijmn in Praise 
 of Neptune, sung in the Gray's Inn Masque in 1594; 
 Of his Mistress's Face; Upon her Paleness j and On 
 Corinna sitiging.X 
 
 « 
 
 • Hail. MSS. 1912. 
 
 ■f Ancient Critical Essays, edited by Mr. Ilaslewood, vol. ii. 
 p. vi. note, in which an account of Campion's puldications will he 
 found, compiled with that editor's usual researdi and accuracy. 
 
 * P. 271 to 274.
 
 CHARLES BEST. 
 
 A WRITER whose name is only known as a contri- 
 butor to the Rhapsody, and whose merits Sir Egerton 
 Brydges has described as being very slender. His 
 productions will be found in p. 183, 184, and from 
 p. 304 to p. 318. 
 
 The articles in the pages last cited were, for the 
 reasons stated in a note to p. 308, certainly written 
 between the years 1G03 and 1608, and in many parts 
 they seem to deserve for their author higher praise 
 than has hitherto been bestowed upon him. 
 
 THOMAS SPILMAN. 
 
 Like Charles Best, Spilman is only known by the 
 few poems with his signature in the Rhapsody. The 
 Editor is inclined to believe that his name was pro- 
 perly Spelman, and that he Avas the Thomas Spel- 
 man who, as is shown by the genealogical table intro- 
 duced in a former page, was the first cousin of Francis 
 Davison.
 
 THOMAS Sl'ILMAN. CXXUl 
 
 His poems consist of A Translation of Anacreon's 
 Second Ode, p. 240, 247 ; Upon his Lady's Sickness 
 of the Small Pox, p. 280; unci perhaps also of the 
 Madrigal in p. 278,. as well as of the address To his 
 Lady's Garden, p. 279. 
 
 At the end of Harleian j\ISS. 1893, are two curious 
 letters by a Thomas Spelman, without date/ addressed 
 "to the noble Knight, Sir Francis Bacon," but the 
 uncertainty whether he was the individual here no- 
 ticed has prevented their insertion at length. It ap- 
 pears that the writer was then under legal restraint, 
 and he implores Bacon to employ " the predominance" 
 he has with Sir Henry IMontagu, who was then Lord 
 Chief Justice of the King's Bench, to allow him a 
 hearing at the bar, when, he observes, " If by the 
 strictest inquisition that may be, they discover a piece 
 or sample of vice in me, let him turn the point of jus- 
 tice on me with his utmost force." — IMany expressions 
 in these letters are very extraordinary. After informing 
 Bacon that he was mistaken in supposing that " the 
 clamour and thunder which filled his ears yesternight 
 came from him, and that if he gave him an interview, 
 he had no doubt he could remove his prejudice against 
 him," he remarks, " Concerning my life, it is a snufF 
 which will go out, if it be not put out ; only I would 
 
 • They must, however, have been written towards the end 
 of the year IGH!, or very early in 1617, as Sir Henry Montagu 
 was not promoted to the Bench until the IGth November, 161<i. 
 Sir Francis Bacon was at that time Attorney General, to which 
 office he was appointed on tlie 27th October, 1G13, and was 
 created Lord VeruJam in July ICIU.
 
 CXXIV BIOGllAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 not have it leave a stink beliind it ;" and he concluded 
 the first of these letters by assuring him, " that this 
 favor will shew the purity of his disposition^ neither 
 shall it be any dishonor to him that he was his crea- 
 ture." From the mention of the loss of his life, and a 
 postscript, " that it must be effected before sun-rising 
 to-morrow," it would appear that the case in which he 
 was involved was of a very serious nature. 
 
 Nothing which tends to identify the Poet either as 
 the writer of the letters alluded to, or as Francis Da- 
 vison's relative, has been discovered ; but it is not at 
 all improbable that it was the same person. 
 
 THOMAS WATSON. 
 
 Thobias Watson was a native of London, and was 
 educated at Oxford, where his pursuits were chiefly 
 directed to poetry and romance. On his return to the 
 metropolis he studied the law, but his progress in that 
 science is very problematical. He is supposed to have 
 died in 1592. Watson's productions are numerous, but 
 his principal publication was the Hccatompathia ; or, 
 Pass'wiuite Century of Love; in which the poems intro- 
 duced into the Rhapsody were, with some slight vari- 
 ations, printed.
 
 A. W. 
 
 Although above one hundred pages of the Poeti- 
 cal Rhapsody are occupied by the productions of a 
 writer whose initials appear to have been A. W., his 
 name has never been discovered. The extreme beauty 
 of his poems renders this circumstance an object of 
 much regret, for few poets of the period possess such 
 high claims to our admiration. 
 
 The only individuals mentioned by Ritson, with 
 whose names this signature agrees, are Andrew Willett 
 and Arthur Warren ; but it does not seem at all pro- 
 bable that these pieces were ■WTitten by either of them. 
 Ritson, however, was inclined to attribute them to 
 Warren ; but no proof whatever exists of the fact. Sir 
 Egerton Brydges once thought that they were by »Sir 
 Walter Raleigh ; but this conjecture was proved to be 
 erroneous, by a list of all A. W.'s poems being found 
 jn a manuscri])t of Sir Simon D'Ewes, in the British 
 IMuseum,* among which were nearly the whole of the 
 anonymous articles in the Rhapsody. The attention 
 of the present Editor has of course been dipected to 
 this interesting document ; but all which he has been 
 able to ascertain from the examination of it, is the 
 
 • Harl. MvSS. 280, f. 102.
 
 CXXVl lilOdKAVHlCAL NOTICES. 
 
 certainty that it is in the handwriting of Francis Da- 
 vison. To many of the articles peculiar marks have 
 been affixed, and those selected for the Rhapsody 
 have a similar note or mark annexed to them. It 
 must also be observed^, that the^ article preceding this 
 list is, " A Catalogue of y^ Poems contayned in Eng- 
 land's Helicon," and which is likewise in Francis 
 Davison's writing. 
 
 Two deductions illustrative of the question of who 
 A. W. really was, may be made from this list, and 
 from the certainty that it was written by Davison. 
 The first, that the poems alluded to had never been 
 published until 1602, when they were inserted in the 
 first edition of the Rhapsody ; and the other, that the 
 volume which contained them was at that time in the 
 possession of Francis Davison : but whether it was his 
 own property, or merely lent to him, cannot be deter- 
 mined ; though, from the manner in which he speaks of 
 some articles being bound up with his copy of the 
 Skepheard's Calendar, it is most likely that the collec- 
 tion was his own. If this be admitted, it is not too 
 much to conclude that the poet himself was not at that 
 time in existence ; for, had he been alive, he would 
 hardly have parted with the manuscript of his produc- 
 tions. That A. W. was living after the death of Sir 
 Philip Sidney in 1585, is manifest from his having 
 \vritten an Eclogue, Hexameters, and An Epigram 
 upon his Death.* Under these circumstances, though 
 
 • Pages 68, and 252 to 254.
 
 A. W. CXXVll 
 
 it is admitted that there is nothing like proof of the 
 fact, still it is most probable that A. W. died some 
 time between 1585 and 1602 ; that his MSS. came 
 into the hands of Francis Davison ; and that the only- 
 part of his poems which have been printed are those 
 inserted in the Rhapsody. 
 
 Besides the articles which on the authority of that 
 list are attributed to A. W., the little piece entitled 
 Ciichh/'s Emblem* seems, from the place where it 
 occurs in the Rhapsody, to have been written by the 
 same person. It is not a little singular that one of 
 the poems. Ye ghasthj groves that hear mij woeful 
 cries, t which in the list in Davison's own autograph 
 is inserted among A. W.'s, should in each edition of 
 the Rhapsody be signed " Francis Davison." In 
 this Catalogue will also be found A Song in Praise of 
 a Beggar's Life, J which Isaac Walton calls " Frank 
 Davison's Song." 
 
 It may be asked, is it possible that in this instance 
 Davison substituted the initials A. W. for his own ? 
 But this conjecture, however strongly supported by the 
 fact just stated relative to the poem, Ye ghastly groves, 
 is opposed by his having generally added his proper 
 initials, or the letter D. to tlie articles found in his 
 manuscript ; and also by the possibility that the signa- 
 ture in the Rhapsody was put by the printer without 
 his authority. 
 
 Still it seems highly improbable that Davison should 
 
 • Pa^e 67. t Pajre 87. + Page 250.
 
 CXXVlll lUOCBAPHICAL NOTICES. 
 
 have allowed a poem to bear his name in three 
 editions of his collection^ unless he was the author of 
 it ; and this consideration certainly tends to identify 
 Davison with A. W., however strongly every other 
 circumstance persuades us that they were different 
 persons. 
 
 The Catalogue of all A. W.'s productions^ Avhich has 
 been printed by Sir Egerton Brydges, may at some 
 future period tend to unravel the mystery in which the 
 question is enveloped ; but at present it would be use- 
 less to prosecute the inquiry^ it being one of those 
 points of frequent occurrence in which accident does so 
 much more than research.
 
 POETICAL RHAPSODY; 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 DIVERS SONNETS, ODES, ELEGIES, MADRIGALS, 
 
 EPIGRAMS, PASTORALS, ECLOGUES, 
 
 Wiiti) otljff iPocm^, 
 
 BOTH IN RHYME AND MEASURED VERSE; 
 
 FOR VARIETY AND PLEASURE THE LIKE NEVER YET 
 PUBLISHED. 
 
 The bee and spider by a diverse power I ■■f 
 
 Suck lioney and poison from the self-same flower. 
 
 NEWLY CORRECTED AND AUGMENTED. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed by William Stansby, for Roger Jackson, 
 Dwelling in Fleet Street near the Great Conduit. 1611.
 
 TO 
 THE MOST NOBLE, HONOURABLE, AND WORTHY LORD, 
 
 WILLIAM, EARL OF PEMBROKE, 
 
 LORD HERBERT OF CARDIFF, MARMION, AND 
 ST. QUINTIN. * 
 
 Great Earl, whose brave heroic mind '' is higher 
 And nobler than thy noble high degree ; 
 Whose outward shape, though it most lovely be. 
 Doth in fair robes a fairer soul attire : 
 Who rich in fading wealth, in endless treasure 
 Of Virtue, Valour, Learning, richer art ; 
 Whose present greatness, men esteem but part 
 Of what by line of future hope they measure. 
 Thou worthy son unto a peerless mother. 
 Or nephew *= to great Sidney of renown. 
 Who hast deserv'd** thy coronet, to crown 
 With laurel crown, a crown excelling th' other : 
 I consecrate these rhymes to thy great name. 
 Which if thou like, they seek no other fame. 
 
 Fra. Davison. " 
 
 « A slight account of the Earl will be found in p. xcii. 
 
 '' whose high and noble mind. — edit. 1 (<0'2. 
 
 t Thou nephew ibid. •' Tliou deserv'st — ibid. 
 
 c Subscribed in eflii. 1(;02, " 'I'lic devoted admirer of your 
 Lordship's noble virtues, " Fra. Davison, 
 
 " humbly dedicates, his own, his brothers', and Anomos 
 Poems, both in his own and their names." 
 /.■ 2
 
 TO THE READER. 
 
 Being induced by some private reasons^ and by tho 
 instant entreaty of special friends, to suifer some of 
 my worthless poems to be published, I desired to make 
 some written by my dear friends Anomjmoi, and my 
 dearer Brother, to bear them company : both without 
 their consent, the latter being in the Low Country wars, 
 and the rest utterly ignorant thereof. My friends' 
 names I concealed ; mine own and my brother's I willed 
 the printer to suppress, as well as I had concealed the 
 other: which he having put in without my privity, we 
 must now undergo a sharper censure perhaps than our 
 nameless works should have done, and I especially. 
 For if their poems be liked, the praise is due to their 
 invention : if disliked, the blame, both by them and 
 all men, will be derived upon me, for publishing that 
 which they meant to suppress. 
 
 If thou think we affect fame by these kinds of 
 Avriting, though I think them no dis])aragement even 
 to the best judgments, yet I answer in all our behalves, 
 with the princely sliepherd Dorus, 
 
 " Our hearts do seek another estimation."
 
 VI TO THE HEADER. 
 
 rif tliou condemn poetry in general, and affirm that 
 it doth intoxicate the brain, and make men utterly unfit, 
 either for more serious studies, or for any active course 
 of life, I only say, Juheo te stultiim esse libenter. Since 
 experience proves by examples of. many, both dead and 
 living, that divers delighted and excelling herein, be- 
 ing Princes or Statesmen, have governed and coun- 
 selled as wisely; being soldiers, have commanded armies 
 as fortunately ; being lawyers, have pleaded as judi- 
 cially and eloquently; being divines, have written and 
 taught as profoundly; and being of any other profession, 
 have discharged it as sufficiently as any other men 
 whatsoever. If, liking other kinds, thou mislike the 
 ''lyrical, because the chiefest subject thereof is love, I 
 reply, that love, being virtuously intended, and wor- 
 thily placed, is the whetstone of wit, and spur to all 
 generous actions ; and many excellent spirits, with 
 i \ great fame of wit, and no stain of judgment, have 
 written excellently in this kind, and specially the ever 
 praiseworthy Sydney. So as, if thou wilt needs make 
 a fault, for mine own part, 
 
 " Hand timeo, si jam neqiu'o rtefendere crimen, 
 Cum tanto commune viro." 
 
 If any except against the mixing (both at the be- 
 ginning and end of this book) of divers things written 
 by great and learned personages, with our mean and 
 worthless scribblings, I utterly disclaim it, as being 
 done by the printer, either to grace the forefront with
 
 TO THE READER. Vll 
 
 Sir Philip Sydney's, and other names, or to make the 
 book grow to a competent volume. 
 
 For these Poems in particular, I could allege these 
 excuses : that those under the name of " Anonymos" 
 were AVTitten (as appeareth by divers things, to Sir 
 Philip Sydney living, and of him dead) almost twenty 
 years since, when poetry was far from that perfection 
 to which it hath now attained ; — that my brother is by 
 profession a soldier, and was not eighteen years old 
 when he writ these toys ; — that mine own were made, 
 most of them six or seven years since, at idle times, as 
 I journeyed up and down during my travels. But to 
 leave their works to justify themselves, or the authors 
 to justify their works, and to speak of mine own : — 
 thy mislikes I contemn ; thy praises (which I neither 
 deserve nor expect) I esteem not, as hoping (God will- 
 ing) ere long to regain thy good opinion, if lost ; or 
 more deservedly to continue it, if already obtained, 
 by some graver work. Farewell. 
 
 Fra. Davison.
 
 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 YET OTHER TWELVE WONDERS 
 OF THE WORLD: 
 
 NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED. 
 BY SIR JOHN DAVIS. 
 
 I. THE COURTIER. 
 
 Long have I liv'd in Court, yet learii'd not all this while 
 
 To sell poor suitors, smoke: nor where I hate to smile; 
 
 Superiors to adore, inferiors to desjnse. 
 
 To i\j from such as fall, to follow such as rise; 
 
 To cloak a poor desire under a rich array, 
 
 Nor to aspire by vice, though 'twere the quicker way. 
 
 II. THE DIVINE. 
 
 My calling is Divine, and I from God am sent ; 
 I will no chop-church be, nor pay my patron rent ; 
 Nor yield to sacrilege ; but, like the kind true mother. 
 Rather will lose all the child, than part it with another. 
 IMuch A\ealth I will not seek; nor worldly masters serve. 
 So to grow rich and fat, while my poor flock doth starve. 
 
 B
 
 2 POETICAL IIHAPSODY. 
 
 III. THE SOLDIER. 
 
 My occupation is the noble trade of Kings, 
 
 The trial that decides the highest right of things ; 
 
 Though Mars my master be, I do not Venus love. 
 
 Nor honour Bacchus oft, nor often swear by Jove ; 
 
 Of speaking of myself I all occasion shun. 
 
 And rather love to do, than boast what I have done. 
 
 IV. THE LAWYER. 
 
 The law my calling is ; my robe, my tongue, my pen. 
 Wealth and opinion gain, and make me Judge of men. 
 The known dishonest cause I never did defend, 
 Nor spun out suits in length, but wish'd and sought an end; 
 Nor counsel did bewray, nor of both parties take ; 
 Nor ever took I fee for which I never spake. 
 
 V. THE PHYSICIAN. 
 
 I study to uphold the slippery state of man, 
 
 "Who dies, when we have done the best and all we can. 
 
 From practice and from books I draw my learned skill. 
 
 Not from the known receipt of 'Pothecaries biU. 
 
 The earth my faults doth hide, the world my cures doth see ; 
 
 What youth and time effect is oft ascrib'd to me. 
 
 VI. THE MERCHANT. 
 
 IMy trade doth every thing to every land supply. 
 Discover unknown coasts, strange countries doth ally ;
 
 TWELVE WONDERS OF THE WORLD. 6 
 
 I never did forestall^ I never did engross. 
 Nor custom did withdraw, though I return'd with loss. 
 I thrive by fair exchange, by selling and by buying. 
 And not by Jewish use, reprisal, fraud, or lying. 
 
 vn. THE COUNTRY GKNTLKMAN. 
 
 Though strange outlandish spirits praise towns, and 
 
 country scorn. 
 The country is my home, I dwell where I was born : / 
 There profit and command with pleasure I partake. 
 Yet do not hawks and dogs my sole companions make. 
 I rule, but not oppress ; end quarrels, not maintain ; 
 See towns,but dwell not there,t'abridge my charge or train. 
 
 VIII. THE BACHELOR. 
 
 How many things as yet are dear alike to me. 
 The field, the horse, the dog, love, arms, or liberty ! 
 I have no wife as yet, whom I may call mine own ; 
 I have no children yet, that by my name are known. 
 Yet if I married were, I would not wish to thrive, 
 If that I could not tame the veriest shrew alive. 
 
 IX. THE MARRIED MAN. 
 
 I only am the man among all married men. 
 That do not wish the priest to be unlink'd again ; 
 And though my shoe did wring,I would not make my mqan. 
 Nor think my neiglibour's chance more happy than mine 
 
 own, 
 Yet court I not my wife, but yield observance due. 
 Being neither fond, nor cross, nor jealous, nor untrue. 
 
 B 2
 
 4 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 X. THK WIFE. 
 
 The first of all our sex came from the side of man, 
 
 I thither am return'd, from whence our sex began : 
 
 I do not visit oft, nor many, when I do ; 
 
 I tell my mind to few, and that in counsel too. 
 
 I seem not sick in health, nor sullen but in sorrow ; 
 
 I care for somewhat else, than what to wear tomorrow. 
 
 XI. THE WIDOW. 
 
 ]\Iy husband knew hoAv much his death would grieve me,* 
 And therefore \^£t me wealth to comfort and relieve me : 
 Though I no more will have, I must not love disdain ; 
 Penelopk herself did suitors entertain. 
 And vet to draw on such as are of best esteem, 
 Nor younger than I am, nor richer will I seem. 
 
 XII. THE MAID. 
 
 I marriage would forswear, but that I hear men tell, 
 That she that dies a maid must lead an ape in hell- 
 Therefore if Fortune come, I will not mock and play. 
 Nor drive the bargain on, till it be driven away. 
 Titles and lands I like, yet rather fancy can, 
 A man that wanteth gold, than gold that wants a man. 
 
 a In Sir Egerton Brydges's Edition of the Rhapsody this line 
 stands 
 
 " My dying husband knew," &c. 
 an interpolation which, tliough perhaps called for by the metre, 
 does not a])])e;ir to be justified by either of the four editions 
 supposed U) have been printed during the lifetime of the original 
 editor.
 
 A LOTTERY, 
 
 PRESENTED BEFORE THE LATE QUEEN's MAJESTY 
 AT THE LORD CHANCELLOR'S HOUSE, KiOl.'' 
 
 A jMariner with a box under his arm, containing all 
 the several things following, supposed to come from the 
 Carrick/ came into the presence, singing this Song: ^-"^ 
 
 Cynthia, Queen of seas and lands. 
 
 That Fortune every where commands. 
 
 Sent forth Fortune to the sea. 
 
 To try her Fortune every way. 
 There did I Fortune meet, which makes me no\v' to sing. 
 There is no fisliing t(» the sea, nor service to the King. 
 
 AU the Nymphs of Thetis' train 
 Did Cynthia's Fortune entertain ; 
 Many a jewel, many a gem, 
 Was to her Fortune brought by them. 
 
 b This Lottery was ])resente<l to the Queen in the summer of 
 U!(»l, at York House, the residem-e of Sir Thomas Egertoii, honl 
 
 Keeper Nichols' Frof/res.se-i, vol. iii. p. 57<l. 
 
 c Or Caract, a large ship Chaucer speaks of Satan having 
 
 " a tayl 
 Broder than of a Carrike is the sayl." 
 Sir Walter Raleigh, a contributor to the Uhapsodi/, ohserves, " In 
 which river the largest Carack may," &c. 
 
 ^.r^
 
 6 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 Her Fortune sped so well, as makes me now to sing. 
 There is no fishing to the sea, nor service to the King, 
 
 Fortune, that it might be seen 
 That she did serve a royal Queen, 
 A frank and royal hand did bear. 
 And cast her favours every where. 
 Some toys fell to my share, which makes me now to sing, 
 There is no fishing to the sea, nor service to the King.'' 
 
 the song ended, he uttered this short 
 speech: 
 
 God save you, fair Ladies all ; and for my part, if ever 
 I be brought to answer for my sins, God forgive me my 
 sharking, and lay usury to my charge. I am a Mariner, 
 and am now come from the sea, where I had the fortune 
 to light upon these few trifles. I must confess, I came ' 
 but lightly by them ; but I no sooner had them, but I 
 made a vow that as they came to my hands by Fortune, 
 so I would not part with them but by Fortune. To that 
 end I have ever since carried these lots about me, that, 
 
 d Mr. Nichols, in his Progresses of Queen Elizabeth, cites thefol- 
 lowing passage from a speech made at the Queen's entertainment 
 at Cowdray, to prove that the line in the text was an " olde saying." 
 " Madame it is an olde saying ' There is no fishing to the sea, nor 
 service to the King' ; but it holds when the sea is calm, and the 
 King virtuous." — Vol. iii. pp. 96 — 571.
 
 A LOTTERY. 7 
 
 if I met with fit company, I might divide my booty among 
 them. And now, I thank my good fortunes ! I am 
 lighted into the best company of the world, a company of 
 the fairest Ladies that ever I saw. Come Ladies, try 
 your fortunes ; and if any light upon an unfortunate 
 blank, let her think that fortune doth but mock her in 
 these trifles, and means to pleasure her in greater matters. 
 
 I. fortune's wheels. 
 
 >•■ 
 
 THE LOTS. >t 
 
 Fortune must now no more on triumph ride ; iV^ X' 
 
 The Wheels are yours that did her chariot guide. 
 
 II. A PURSE. ' - 
 
 You thrive, or would, or may ; your lot 's a Purse, 
 Fill it with gold, and you are ne'er the worse. 
 
 III. A MASK. 
 
 Want you a jMask ? here Fortune gives you one, 
 Yet Nature gives the rose, and lily none. 
 
 IV. A LOOKING GLASS. 
 
 Blind Fortune doth not see how fair you be. 
 But gives a Glass, that you yourself may see. 
 
 V. A HANDKERCHIEF. 
 
 Whether you seem to weep, or weep indeed, 
 This Handkerchief will stand you well in stead.
 
 8 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 VI. A PLAIN RING. 
 
 Fortune doth send you, hap it well or ill. 
 This plain gold Ring, to wed you to your will. 
 
 VII. A RING, WITH THIS POESY. 
 
 ' 'B& faitijful a^ ^ fintJ.' 
 Your hand by Fortune on this Ring doth light. 
 And yet the words do hit your humour right. 
 
 A'lII. A PAIR OF GLOVES. 
 
 Fortune these Gloves to you in challenge sends, 
 For that you love not fools, that are her friends. 
 
 IX. A DOZEN OF POINTS. 
 
 You are in ev'ry point a lover true. 
 
 And therefore Fortune gives the Points to you. 
 
 X. A LACE. 
 
 Give her the Lace, that loves to be straight lac'd. 
 So Fortune's little gift is aptly plac'd. 
 
 XI. A PAIR OP KNIVES. 
 
 , Fortune doth give this pair of Knives to you^ 
 To cut the thread of love, if 't be not true. 
 
 XII. A GIRDLE. 
 
 By Fortune's Girdle you may happy be. 
 But they that are less happy, are more free.
 
 A LOTTERY. 9 
 
 Xm. A PAIR OF AVRITING TABLES. 
 
 These Tables may contain yonr thoughts in part, 
 But \mte not all that 's written in your heart. 
 
 XIV. A PAIR OF GARTERS. 
 
 Though you have Fortune's Garters, you must be 
 More staid and constant in your steps than she. 
 
 XV. A COIF AND CROSS-CLOTH. 
 
 Frown in good earnest, or be sick in jest. 
 
 This Coif and Cross-cloth will become you best. 
 
 XVI. A SCARF. 
 
 Take you this Scarf, bind Citpid hand and foot; 
 So Love must ask you leave, before he shoot. 
 
 XVII. A FALLING BAND. 
 
 Fortune Avould have you rise, yet guides your hand 
 From other lots to take the Falling Band. 
 
 XVIII. A STOMACHER. 
 
 This Stomacher is full of windows wrought. 
 
 Yet none through them can see into your thought. 
 
 XIX. A PAIR OF SCISSARS. 
 
 These Scissars do your housewifery bewray. 
 You love to work, though you were born to play. 
 
 XX. A CHAIN. 
 
 Because you scorn Love's captive to remain. 
 Fortune hath sworn to lead you in a Chain.
 
 10 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 XXI. A PRAYER-BOOK. 
 
 Your fortune may prove good another day ; 
 Till Fortune come, take you a Book to pray. 
 
 XXII. A SNUKTKIN. " 
 
 'Tis summer yet, a Snuftkin is your lot ! 
 But 'tvi^ill be winter one day, doubt you not. 
 
 XXIII. A FAN. 
 
 You love to see, and yet to be unseen ; 
 Take you this Fan to be your beauty's screen. 
 
 XXIV. A PAIR OF BRACELETS. 
 
 Lady ! your hands are fallen into a snare. 
 For Cupid's manacles these Bracelets are. 
 
 XXV. A BODKIN. 
 
 Even with this Bodkin you may live unharmed. 
 Your beauty is with Virtue so well armed. 
 
 XXVI. A NECKLACE. 
 
 Fortune gives your fair neck this Lace to wear ; 
 God grant a heavier yoke it never bear ! 
 
 XXVII. A CUSHINET. 
 
 To her that little cares what lot she wins. 
 Chance gives a little Cushinet to stick pins. 
 
 e Explained in Archdeacon Nares's Glossary/ to be a muff, in 
 which work this example of the use of the word is cited.
 
 A LOTTERY. 11 
 
 XXVIII. A DIAL. 
 
 The Dial's yours; watch time, lest it be lost ; 
 Yet they most lose it, that do watch it most. 
 
 XXIX. A NUTMEG, WITH A BLANK PARCHMENT 
 
 IN IT. 
 
 This Nutmeg holds a blank, but chance doth hide it ; 
 Write your own wish, and Fortune will provide it. 
 
 XXX. A BLANK. 
 
 Wot you not why Fortune gives you no prize .'' 
 Good faith ! she saw you not, — she wants her eyes. 
 
 XXXI. A BLANK. 
 
 You are so dainty to be pleas'd, God wot. 
 Chance knows not what to give you for a lot. 
 
 XXXII. A BLANK. 
 
 'Tis pity such a hand should draw in vain ; 
 Though it gain nought, yet shall it pity gain. 
 
 XXXIII. A BLANK. 
 
 Nothing's your lot, that's more than can be told. 
 For nothing is more precious than gold. 
 
 XXXIV. A BLANK. 
 
 You fain would have, but what, you cannot tell. 
 In giving nothing. Fortune serves you well. 
 
 I. D.
 
 12 1*02TICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 y- 
 
 A CONTENTION 
 
 BETWIXT A WIFE^ A WIDOW, AND A MAID. 
 
 WIFE. WiDOvVj well met ; whither go you to-day ? 
 Will you not to this solemn offering go ? 
 You know it is Astrea's holy day. 
 The saint to whom all hearts devotion owe. 
 
 WIDOW. Marry, what else ? I purposed so to do: 
 
 Do you not murk how all the wives are fine. 
 And how they have sent presents ready too. 
 To make their offei ing at Astrea's shrine .'' 
 
 See, then, the shrine and tapers burning bright ! 
 Come, friend, and let us first ourselves advance; 
 We know our place, and if we have our right. 
 To all the parish we must lead the dance.
 
 A CONTENTION. 13 
 
 But soft ! what means this bold presumptuous 
 
 Maid, 
 To go before, without respect of us ? 
 Your forwardness, proud maid ! nuist now be 
 
 staid : 
 Where learn'd you to neglect your betters 
 
 thus? 
 
 MAID. Elder you are, but not my betters here : 
 
 This place to maids a privilege must give ; 
 The Goddess, being a maid, holds maidens 
 
 dear. 
 And grants to them her own prerogative. 
 
 Besides, on all true virgins, at their birth. 
 Nature hath set a crown of excellence, 
 That all tlie wives and widows of the earth 
 Should give them place, and do them reverence. 
 
 WIFE. If to be born a maid be such a grace. 
 
 So was I born, and grac'd by Nature too ; 
 But seeking more perfection to embrace, 
 I did become a wife as others do. 
 
 WIDOW. And if the maid and wife such honour have, 
 I have been both, and hold a third degree ; 
 IMost maids are wards, and every wife a slave ; 
 I have my livery sued, and I am free.
 
 14) POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 MAID. That is the fault, that you have maidens been, 
 And ^vere not constant to continue so ; 
 The fall of Angels did increase their sin. 
 In that they did so pure a state forego. 
 
 But, Wife and Widow, if your wits can make 
 Your state and persons of more worth than mine. 
 Advantage to this place I will not take ; 
 I will both place and privilege resign. 
 
 WIFE. Why marriage is an honourable state ! , 
 
 WIDOW. And widowhood is a reverend degree ! 
 MAID. But maidenhead, that will admit no mate. 
 Like majesty itself must sacred be. 
 
 WIFE. The wife is mistress of her family: 
 WIDOW. Much more the widow, for she rules alone : 
 MAID. But mistress of mine own desires am I, 
 
 When you rule others' wills, and not your own. 
 
 WIFE. Only the wife enjoys the virtuous pleasure : 
 WIDOW. The widow can alistain from pleasures known ; 
 MAID. But th'uncorrupted maid observes such measure. 
 As being by pleasures woo'd she cares for none. 
 
 WIPE. The wife is like a fair supported vine; 
 WIDOW. So was the widow, but now stands alone ; 
 
 For being grown strong, she needs nottoincline. 
 MAID. Maids, like the earth, supported are of none.
 
 A CONTENTION. 15 
 
 WIFE. The wife is as a diamond richly set ; 
 MAID. The maid unset doth yet more rich appear ; 
 WIDOW. The widow a jewel in the cabinet. 
 
 Which though not worn;, is still esteem'd as dear. 
 
 WIFE. The wife doth love, and is belov'd again ; 
 WIDOW. The widow is awak'd out of that dream ; 
 MAUi. The maid's white mind had never such a stain; 
 No passion troubles her clear virtues' stream. 
 
 Yet if I would be luv'd, lov'd would I be, 
 Like her whose virtue in the bay is seen : 
 Love to wife fades with satiety. 
 Where love never enjoy'd is ever green. 
 
 WIDOW. Then what's a virgin but a fruitless bay? 
 
 MAID. And what's a widow but a roseless brier ? 
 
 And what are wives, but woodbines which decay 
 The stately oaks by which themselves aspire .'' 
 
 And what is marriage but a tedious yoke ? 
 WIDOW. And what virginity but sweet self-love .'' 
 WIFE. And what's a widow but an axle broke. 
 
 Whose one part failing, neither part can move ? 
 
 WIDOW. Wives are as birds in golden cages kept ; - 
 WIFE. Yet in those cages clieerfully they sing : 
 WIDOW. Widows are birds out of those cages leapt, 
 
 Whose joyful notes niiikes all the forest ring.
 
 16 POETICAL miAl'bOD/. 
 
 MAID, But maids are birds amidst the Avoods secure, 
 Wliicli never hand could touch, nor net could 
 
 take ; 
 Nor whistle could deceive, nor bait allure. 
 But free unto themselves do music make. 
 
 WIFE. The wife is as the turtle with her mate ; 
 AviDOW. The widoAv as the widow dove alone. 
 
 Whose truth shines most in her forsaken state ; 
 MAID. The maid a Phoenix, and is still but one. 
 
 WIFE. The wife's a soul unto her body tied; 
 wfDOW. The widow a soul departed into bliss ; 
 MAID. The maid an Angel which was stellified. 
 And now t'as fair a house descended is. 
 
 WIFE. Wives are fair houses kept and furnish'd well ; 
 WIDOW. Widows old castles void, but full of state : 
 MAID. But maids are temples, where the Gods do 
 dwell. 
 To whom alone themselves they dedicate. 
 
 But marriage is a prison during life. 
 Where one way out, but many entries be : 
 WIFE. The Nun is kept in cloister, not the wife. 
 Wedlock alone doth make the virgin free.
 
 A OONTENTTON. 17 
 
 MAin. The maid is ever fresh, like morn in May; 
 WIFE. The wife with all her beams is beautified. 
 
 Like to high noon, the glory of the day ; 
 WIDOW. The widow, like a mild sweet eventide. 
 
 WIFE. An office well supplied is like the wife; \ 
 WIDOW. The widow, like a gainful office void ; 
 3IAID. But m.aids are like contentment in this life. 
 
 Which all the world have sought, but none 
 enjoy 'd. 
 
 Go, wife, to Dunmow, and demand your flitch. 
 WIDOW. Go, gentle maid, go, lead the apes in hell. 
 WIFE. Go, widow, make some younger brother rich. 
 
 And then take thought and die, and all is well. 
 
 Alas, poor maid ! that hast no help nor stay- 
 WIDOW. Alas, poor wife ! that nothing dost possess. 
 MAID. Alas, \iooT widow ! Charity doth say, 
 
 Pitv the widow and the fatlierle.ss. 
 
 If 
 
 WIDOW. But happy widows have the world at will. 
 WIFE. But hapj)ier wives, whose joys are ever double. 
 jMAin. But happiest maids, whose hearts are calm and 
 
 still ; 
 Whom fear, nor hope, nor love, nor hate doth 
 
 trouble.
 
 18 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 WIFE. Every true wife hath an indented heart. 
 Wherein the covenants of love are writ ; 
 Whereof her husband keeps the counterpart. 
 And reads his comforts and his joys in it. 
 
 WIDOW. But every widow's heart is like a book. 
 
 Where her joys past imprinted do remain ; 
 But when her judgment's eye therein doth look. 
 She doth not wish they were to come again. 
 
 MAID. But the maid's heart a fair white table is. 
 
 Spotless and pure, where no impressions be. 
 But the immortal characters of bliss. 
 Which only God doth write, and Angels see. 
 
 WIFE. But wives have children : what a joy is this ! 
 WIDOW. Widows have children too; but maids have none. 
 MAID. No more have Angels; yet they have more bliss 
 Than ever yet to mortal man was known. 
 
 WIFE. The wife is like a fair manured field ; 
 WIDOW. The widow once was such, but now doth rest; 
 MAID. .The maid, like Paradise, undrest, untill'd. 
 Bears crops of native virtue in her breast. 
 
 WIFE. Who would not die a wife, as Lucrece died ? 
 WIDOW. Or live a widow, as Penelope .'' 
 MAID. Or be a maid, and so be stellified, 
 
 As aU the virtues and the graces be.
 
 A CONTENTION. 19 
 
 WIFE. Wives are warm climates well inhabited; 
 
 But maids are frozen zones, where none may 
 dwell. 
 MAID. But fairest people in the North are bred; 
 
 Where Africa breeds monsters black as hell. 
 
 WIFE. I have my husband's honour and his place : 
 WIDOW. My husband's fortunes all survive to me. 
 MAID. The moon doth borroAv light ; you borrow grace: 
 When maids by their own virtues graced be. 
 
 White is my colour ; and no hue but tliis 
 It will receive, no tincture can it stain. 
 WIPE. My white hath took one colour ; but it is 
 An honourable purple dyed in grain. 
 
 WIDOW. But it hath been my fortune to renew 
 
 ]\Iy colour twice from that it was before ; 
 But now my black will take no other hue. 
 And therefore now I mean to change no more. 
 
 '»^ 
 
 WIPE. Wives are fair apples served in golden dishes; 
 WIDOW. Widows good wine, which time makes better 
 
 much ; 
 MAID. But maids are grapes desired by many wishes, 
 But that they grow so high as none can touch. 
 
 WIPE. I have a daughter equals you, my girl. 
 
 )th e 
 c 2 
 
 MAID. Tlie daughter doth excel the mother, then.
 
 20 
 
 POETICAL IIHAPSODY. 
 
 WIDOW. 
 
 MAID. 
 
 As pearls are better tlian the mother of pearl ; 
 Maids lose their value v/hen they match with 
 men. 
 
 The man with whom I match'd, his worth was 
 
 such. 
 As now I scorn a maid should be my peer : 
 But I will scorn the man you praise so much. 
 For maids are matchless, and no mate can bear. 
 
 Hence is it that the virgin never loves, / 
 
 Because her like she finds not any where ; 
 For likeness evermore affection moves; 
 Therefore the maid hath neither love nor peer. 
 
 WIFE. Yet many virgins married wives would be, 
 WIDOW. And many a wife would be a widow fain. 
 MAID. There is no widow but desires to see. 
 If so she might, her maiden days again. 
 
 WIDOW ^. There never was a wife that liked her lot : 
 WIPE. Nor widow, but was clad in mourning weeds. 
 MAID. Do what you will, marry or marry not. 
 
 Both this estate and that repentance breeds. 
 
 =» In the previous editions of the Rhapsody, this line has 
 always been imputed to the wife^ and the following one to the 
 widow; but as throughout the Contention each party praises 
 her own state, whilst she ridicules that of the others, the trans- 
 position in the text appeared to be imperiously called for.
 
 A CONTENTION. 21 
 
 wiKJE. But she that this estate and that hath seen. 
 
 Doth find great odds between the wife and girl. 
 
 MAID. Indeed she doth^ as much as is between 
 
 The melting hailstone, and the solid pearl. 
 
 AviFE. If I were widow, my merry days were past. 
 
 WIDOW. Nay, then you first become sweet pleasure's 
 guest ; 
 For maidenhead is a continual fast. 
 And marriage is a continual feast. 
 
 MAID. Wedlock indeed hath oft compared been 
 
 To public feasts, where meet a public rout. 
 Where they that are without would fain go in. 
 And they that are within would fain go out. 
 
 Or to the jewel which this virtue had. 
 That men were mad till they might it obtain ; 
 But when they had it, they were twice as mad 
 Till they were dispossess'd of it again. 
 
 WIFE. INIaids cannot judge, because they cannot tell. 
 What comforts and what joys in marriage be. 
 
 MAID. Yes, yes ; though blessed Saints in Heaven 
 dwell. 
 They do the souls in Purgatory see.
 
 22 POETICAL RHAPSODY, 
 
 WIDOW. If every wife do live in Purgatory, 
 
 Then sure it is that widows live in bliss. 
 And are translated to a state of glory ; 
 But maids as yet have not attain'd to this. 
 
 Si AID. Not maids? To spotless maids this gift is giveii;, 
 To live in incorruption from their birth : 
 And what is that, but to inherit heaven 
 Even while they dwell upon the spotted earth ? 
 
 Tlie perfectest of all created things ; 
 
 The purest gold, that suffers no allay ; 
 
 The sweetest tiower that on th' earth's bosom 
 
 springs ; 
 The pearl unbored, whose price no price can 
 
 pay. 
 
 The chrystal glass, that will no venom hold ; 
 The mirror, wherein Angels love to look : 
 I Diana's bathing fountain, clear and cold; 
 Beauty's fresh rose, and virtue's living book. 
 
 Of love and fortune both the mistress born ; 
 The sovereign spirit that will be thrall to none : 
 The spotless garment that was never worn ; 
 The princely eagle that still flies alone.
 
 A CONTEJJTIO^r. 23 
 
 She sees the worlds yet her clear thought doth 
 
 take 
 No such deep print as to be chang'd thereby; 
 As when we see the burning fire doth make 
 No such impression as doth burn the eye. 
 
 WIFE. No more, sweet maid ; our strife is at an end. 
 Cease now ; I fear we shall transformed be 
 To chattering pies, as they that did contend 
 To match the Muses in their harmony. 
 
 WIDOW. Then let us yield the honour and the place. 
 And let us both be suitors to the maid ; 
 That, since the goddess gives her special grace. 
 By her clear hands the offering be convey'd. 
 
 MAID. Your speech I doubt hath some displeasure 
 moved ; 
 Yet let me have the offering, I will see : 
 I know she hath both wives and widows lov'd. 
 Though she would neither wife nor widow be. 
 
 Sir John Davis.
 
 24! POETICAL RHAPSODY- 
 
 THE LIE. 
 
 Go, soul, the body's guest. 
 
 Upon a thankless arrant ; * 
 Fear not to touch the best. 
 
 The truth shall be thy warrant : 
 Go, since I needs must die. 
 
 And give the world the lie. 
 
 e The ortliography of this word is retained on account of the 
 rhyme ; but in Ellis's Specimens of the Early Enylish Poets^ 
 as well as in the copy in Sir Egerton Brydges's edi'don of the 
 Rhapsody^ it is altered to " errand ;" which certainly but ill 
 agrees with tlie termination of the fourth line. There is very 
 considerable doubt to whom this beautiful poem should be at- 
 
 ] tributed. It has been assigTied to Sir Walter Raleigh by Bishop 
 Percy, by whom it is said to have been written the night 
 before his execution : this assertion is, however, proved to be 
 unfounded, from the fact that Raleigh was not executed until 
 1618, and the poem in question was printed in the second 
 
 . edition of the Rhapsody in 1608. Nor does there appear to be 
 any satisfttctoiy reason for believing it to have been written by 
 Raleigh. In the folio edition of the Works of John Sylvester it 
 is inserted among that writer's poems, entitled " The Soul's 
 Errand ;" and Mr. Ellis, in his Specimens^ has introduced it, ap- 
 parently from that volume, and justly remarks, that as it was at-
 
 THE LIE. 25 
 
 Say to the Court, it glows. 
 
 And shines like rotten wood ; 
 Say to the Church, it shows 
 
 What 's good, and doth no good 
 If Church and Court reply. 
 
 Then give them both the lie. 
 
 Tell Potentates they live 
 Acting by others' action ; 
 
 tributed to Sylvester by the Editorof thateclitionof his Works, "he 
 has restored it to its ancient pi-oprietor, until a more authorized 
 claimant shall lie produced." Its beiny; placed among that wri- 
 ter's productions must not, however, be deemed conclusive evi- 
 dence on the subject ; for on the same grounds we should be 
 obliged to consider Lord Peniiiroke as the author, as it is printed 
 among that accomplished nol)leman's poems. Ritson, whose au- 
 thority merits great attention, peremptorily attributes i^^to Fran- 
 cis Davison : " The Answer to the Lye^'' he observes, "usually as- 
 cribe'd to Ralegh, and pretended to have been writen the night 
 before his execution, was in fact by Francis Davison." — Biblioyr. 
 Poelica^ p. 308. In this state of uncertainty the Editor is obliged to 
 leave the question, for he acknowledges his incompetency to throw- 
 any light on the subject ; and the probability is, tliat the real author 
 will never be discovered. Tlie extreme beauty of this poem has 
 caused it to have been fre(iue!itly printed ; and it is singular that 
 there are not two copies precisely alike. At the end of this 
 volume two copies of it are inserted ; the one from Ilarl. MSS. 
 2296, the otbcr from a manuscript in the same collection, No. 
 G910 ; the readings of which not only differ materially from each 
 other, but in a shght degree also from the printed copies.
 
 26 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 Not loved unless they give. 
 Not strong but by aifection : 
 
 If Potentates reply^, 
 
 Give Potentates the lie. 
 
 Tell men of hij^h condition. 
 That manage the estate. 
 
 Their purpose is ambition. 
 Their practice only hate : 
 
 And if they once reply. 
 
 Then give them all the lie. 
 
 Tell them that brave it most. 
 They beg for more by spending. 
 
 Who in their greatest cost 
 
 Like nothing but commending : 
 
 And if they make reply. 
 Then tell them all they lie. 
 
 Tell zeal it Avants devotion ; 
 
 Tell love it is but lust ; 
 Tell time it is but motion ; 
 
 Tell flesh it is but dust : 
 And vv'ish them not reply. 
 
 For thou must give the lie. 
 
 Tell age it daily wasteth ; 
 Tell honour how it alters ;
 
 THE LIE. 27 
 
 Tell Beauty how she blasteth ; 
 
 Tell favour how it falters : 
 And as they shall reply. 
 
 Give every one the lie. 
 
 Tell wit how much it wrangles 
 
 In tickle points of niceness ; 
 Tell Wisdom she entangles 
 
 Herself in over-wiseness : 
 And when they do reply. 
 
 Straight give them both the lie. 
 
 Tell Physic of her boldness ; 
 
 Tell skill it is pretension ; 
 Tell charity of coldness ; 
 
 Tell law it is contention ; 
 And as they do reply. 
 
 So give them still the lie. 
 
 Tell Fortune of her blindness ; 
 
 Tell nature of decay ; 
 Tell friendship of unkindness ; 
 
 Tell justice of delay : 
 And if they will reply. 
 
 Then give them all the lie. 
 
 Tell Arts they have no soundness. 
 But vary by esteeming ;
 
 28 rOETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 Tell Schools they want profoundness. 
 And stand so much on seeming : 
 
 If Arts and Schools reply. 
 Give Arts and Schools the lie. 
 
 Tell faith it 's fled the City; 
 
 Tell how the country erreth ; 
 Tell manhood shakes of pity ; 
 
 Tell virtue least preferreth : 
 And if they do reply_, 
 
 Spare not to give the lie. 
 
 So when thou hast, as I 
 
 Commanded thee, done blabbing ; 
 Pecause to give the lie. 
 
 Deserves no less than stabbinar : 
 Stab at thee who that will. 
 
 No stab the soul can kill !
 
 CD 
 
 TWO PASTORALS, 
 
 madk by sir philip sidney^ upon his meeting 
 with his two worthy friends and fellow- 
 poets, sir edward dyer and m. fulke 
 greville/ 
 
 Join mates in mirth to me. 
 
 Grant pleasure to our meeting; 
 Let Pan, our good god, see 
 How grateful is our greeting. 
 
 Join hearts and hands, so let it be, 
 Make but one mind in bodies three. 
 
 Ye Hymns, and singing skill 
 
 Of God Apollo's giving, 
 Be press'd our reeds to fill 
 
 With sound of music living. 
 Join hearts and hands, &c. 
 
 f 
 
 A slight account of these individuals will be found among 
 the Biographical Notices at the commencement of the volume. 
 
 c 7
 
 30 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 Sweet Orphetis' harp, whose sound 
 The stedfast mountains moved. 
 
 Let here thy skill abound. 
 To join sweet friends beloved. 
 Join hearts and hands, &c. 
 
 My two and I be met, 
 
 A happy blessed trinity. 
 As three most jointly set 
 
 In firmest band of unity. 
 Join hands, &c. 
 
 Welcome my two to me, E.D. F.G. P.S.^ 
 
 The number best beloved. 
 Within my heart you be 
 
 In friendship unremoved. 
 Join hands, &c. 
 
 Give leave your flocks to range, 
 Let us the while be playing; 
 
 Within the elmy grange. 
 
 Your flocks will not be straying. 
 Join hands, &c. 
 
 Cause all tjie mirth you can. 
 Since I am now come hither. 
 
 If Edward Dyer, Fulke Greville, Philip Sydney.
 
 PASTORALS AND ECLOGUES.^ 31 
 
 Who never joy, but when 
 I am with you together. 
 Join hands, &c. 
 
 Like lovers do their love. 
 
 So joy I in you seeing: 
 Let nothing me remove 
 
 From always with you being. 
 Join hands, &c. 
 
 And as the turtle Dove 
 
 To mate with whom heliveth, 
 Such comfort fervent love 
 
 Of you to my heart giveth. 
 Join hands, &c. 
 
 Now joined be our hands. 
 
 Let them be ne'er asunder. 
 But link'd in binding bands r 
 
 By metamorphosed wonder. 
 
 So should our sever'd bodies three 
 As one for ever joined be. 
 
 Sir Ph. Sidney.
 
 (p 
 
 S^ COETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 DISPRAISE OF A COURTLY LIFE. 
 
 Walking in bright Ph(ebus' blaze. 
 
 Where with heat oppress' d I was, 
 
 I got to a shady wood, 
 
 Where green leaves did newly bud ; 
 
 And of grass was plenty dwelling, 
 
 Deck'd with pied floAvers sweetly smelling. 
 
 In this wood a man I met, 
 On lamenting wholly set ; 
 Ruing change of wonted state. 
 Whence he was transformed late. 
 Once to Shepherds' God retaining. 
 Now in servile Court remaining. 
 
 There he wandering malecontent. 
 Up and down perplexed went. 
 Daring not to tell to me. 
 Spake unto a senseless tree. 
 One among the rest electing. 
 These same words, or this aifecting: 
 
 " My old mates I grieve to see 
 Void of me in field to be.
 
 PASTORALS AXD ECLOGUES. 33 
 
 Where we once our lovely sheep 
 Lovingly like friends did keep ; 
 Oft each others friendship proving, 
 Never striving, but in loving. 
 
 But may love abiding be 
 
 In poor shepherds' base degree .'' 
 
 It belongs to such alone 
 
 To whom art of Love is known : 
 
 Seely' shepherds are not witting 
 
 What in art of love is fitting. 
 
 Nay, what need the art to those 
 To whom we our love disclose ? 
 It is to be used then. 
 When we do but Hatter men : 
 Friendship true, in heart assured, 
 Is by Nature's gifts procured. 
 
 Therefore shepherds wanting skill. 
 Can Love's duties best fulfil ; 
 Since they know not how to feign. 
 Nor with love to cloak disdain, 
 
 g In Todd^s Johnson this word is described on the authority of 
 Chaucer and Spenser to mean lucky, happy; and likewise, agree- 
 ably to the usage of the latter writer, silly, inoffensive, harmless. 
 Perhaps the instance in the text, as well as that in the next page, 
 afford the best proof which can be adduced of the word being used 
 svnonimously with silly, ignorant, or simple. 
 
 D
 
 84 POETICAL IIHAPSODY. 
 
 Like the wiser sort, whose learning 
 Hides their inward will of harming. 
 
 Well was Ij while under shade 
 Oaten reeds me music made. 
 Striving witli my mates in song ; 
 Mixing mirth our songs among. 
 Greater was the shepherd's treasure. 
 Than this false, fine, courtly pleasure. 
 
 Where how many creatures be. 
 So many pufF'd in mind I see; 
 Like to Juno's birds of pride, 
 Scarce each other can abide : 
 Friends like to black swans appearing, 
 Sooner these than those in hearing. 
 
 Therefore, Pan, if thou mayest be 
 JMade to listen unto me. 
 Grant, I say, if seely man 
 May make treaty to god Pan, 
 That I, without thy denying. 
 May be still to thee relying. 
 
 Only for my two loves' sake, Sir Ed. D. & 
 
 M. F. G." 
 In whose love I pleasure take ; 
 
 '• Sir Edwaid Dyer and M. Ftilke Greville.
 
 PASTORALS AND ECLOGUES. 35 
 
 Only two do me delight 
 With their ever-pleasing sight ; 
 Of all men to thee retaining. 
 Grant me with those two remaining. 
 
 So shall I to thee ahvays 
 
 With my reeds sound mighty praise ; 
 
 And first lamb that shall befall. 
 
 Yearly deck thine altar shall, 
 
 If it please thee to be reflected. 
 
 And I from thee not rejected." 
 
 So I left him in that place. 
 Taking pity on his case ; 
 Learning this among the rest. 
 That the mean estate is best ; 
 Better filled with contenting. 
 Void of wishing and repenting. 
 
 Sir Ph. Sidney. 
 
 i> 2
 
 S() POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 
 A FICTION, 
 
 HOW CUPID MADE A NYMPH WOUND HERSELF 
 WITH HIS ARKOWS. 
 
 It chanced of late a shepherd's swain, 
 That went to seek a strayed sheep. 
 
 Within a thicket on the plain. 
 Espied a dainty Nymph asleep. 
 
 Her golden hair o'erspread her face. 
 Her careless arms abroad were cast, 
 
 Her quiver had her pillow's place. 
 Her breast lay bare to every blast. 
 
 The shepherd stood, and gazed his fill ; 
 
 Nought durst he do, nought durst he say ; 
 When chance, or else perhaps his will. 
 
 Did guide the god of Love that way. 
 
 The crafty boy that sees her sleep. 
 
 Whom, if she waked, he durst not see. 
 
 Behind her closely seeks to creep. 
 Before her nap should ended be.
 
 PASTORALS AKD ECLOGUES. 37 
 
 There come, he steals her shafts away. 
 
 And puts his own into their place; 
 Nor dares he any longer stay, 
 
 But, ere she wakes, hies thence apace. 
 
 Scarce was he gone, when she awakes. 
 And spies the shepherd standing by ; 
 
 Her bended bow in haste she takes. 
 And at the simple swain let Hy. 
 
 Forth flew the shaft, and pierced his heart. 
 That to the ground he fell with pain ; 
 
 Yet up again forthwith did start. 
 And to the nymph he ran amain. 
 
 Amazed to see so strange a sight. 
 She shot, and shot, but all in vain ; 
 
 The more his wounds, the more his might ; 
 Love yieldeth strength in midst of pain. 
 
 Her angry eyes are great with tears. 
 
 She blames her hands, she blames her skill; 
 
 The bluntness of her shafts she fears. 
 And try them on herself she will. 
 
 Take heed, sweet Nymph ! try not thy shaft ; 
 
 Each little touch will prick thy heart : 
 Alas ! thou knowest not Cupid's craft ; 
 
 Revenge is joy, the end is smart. 
 
 458656
 
 38 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 Yet try she will, and prick soon bare ; 
 
 Her hands were glov'd, and next to hand 
 Was that fair breast, that breast so rare. 
 
 That made the shepherd senseless stand. 
 
 That breast she prick'd, ai?d through that breast 
 
 Love finds an entry to her heart : 
 At feeling of this new-come guest. 
 
 Lord ! how the gentle nymph doth start ! 
 
 She runs not now, she shoots no more. 
 Away she throws both shafts and bow : 
 
 She seeks for that she shunn'd before. 
 She thinks the shepherd's haste too slow. 
 
 Though mountains meet not, lovers may ; 
 
 So others do, and so do they : 
 
 The' god of Love sits on a tree. 
 
 And laughs that pleasant sight to see.** 
 
 h Signed " Axomos" in the first Edition; but it is attrilmted 
 by Bishop Percy to Francis Davison.
 
 € 
 
 A DIALOGUE BETWEEN TWO 
 SHEPHERDS, 
 
 THENOT AND PIERS, 
 IN PRAISE OF ASTREA. ' 
 
 THENOT. I SING divine Astrea's praise ; 
 O Muses ! help my wits to raise. 
 And heave my verses higher. 
 PIERS. Thou need'st the truth but plainly tell. 
 
 Which much I doubt thou canst not well. 
 Thou art so oft a liar. 
 
 THEN. 
 
 PIERS. 
 
 If in my song no more I show. 
 
 Than Heaven, and earth, and sea do know. 
 
 Then truly I have spoken. 
 Sufficeth not no more to name. 
 But being no less, the like, the same. 
 Else laws of truth be broken. 
 
 i " Made by the excellent Lady, the Lady 3Iary Countess of 
 
 Pembroke, at the Queen ^Majesty's being at her house at , 
 
 Anno 15*»." Edit. 1602. .
 
 40 POETICAL IIHAPSODY. 
 
 THEN. Then say, she is so good, so fair. 
 
 With all the earth she may compare. 
 Nor Momus self denying : 
 PIERS. Compare may think where likeness holds. 
 Nought like to her the earth enfolds : 
 I look to find you lying. 
 
 THEN. 
 
 PIERS. 
 
 AsTREA sees with wisdom's sight; 
 AsTREA works by virtue's might ; 
 
 And jointly both do stay in her. 
 Nay, take from them her hand, her mind. 
 The one is lame, the other blind : 
 
 Shall still your lying stain her ? 
 
 THEN. 
 
 PIERS. 
 
 Soon as Astrka shows her face. 
 Straight every ill avoids the place; 
 
 And every good aboundeth. 
 Nay, long before her face doth show. 
 The last doth come, the first doth go : 
 
 How loud this lie resoundeth. 
 
 THEN. 
 
 PIERS. 
 
 Astrea is our chiefest joy. 
 
 Our chiefest guard against annoy. 
 
 Our chiefest wealth, our treasure. 
 Where chiefest are, there others be. 
 To us none else but only she : 
 
 When wilt thou speak in measure ?
 
 PASTORALS AND ECLOGUES. 41- 
 
 THKN. AsTHEA may be justly said, 
 
 A field in flowery rolie array'd, \ 
 In season freshly springing. ' 
 PIERS. That spring endures but shortest time. 
 This never leaves Astrea's clime : 
 Thou liest, instead of singing. 
 
 THEN. As heavenly light that guides the day. 
 Right so doth shine each lovely ray 
 That from Astrea flieth. 
 PIERS. Nay, darkness oft that light in clouds, 
 Astrea's beams no darkness shrouds : 
 How loudly Thenot lieth ! 
 
 THEN. AsTREA rightly term I may 
 A manly palm, a maiden bay. 
 Her verdure never dying. 
 PIERS. Palm oft is crooked, bay is low. 
 
 She still upright, still high doth grow : 
 Good Thenot leave thy lying. 
 
 THEN. Then, Piers, of friendship tell me why. 
 My meaning true, my words should lie, 
 And strive in vain to raise her ? 
 PIERS. Words from conceit do only rise ; 
 Above conceit her honour flies: 
 But silence, nought can praise her. 
 
 Mary, Countess op Pembroke.
 
 42 
 
 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 © 
 
 A ROUNDELAY, 
 
 IN INVERTED RHYMES^ BETWEEN THE TWO FRIENHLY 
 RIVALS, STREPIION AND KLAIUS, IN THE PRE- 
 SENCE OF URANIA, MISTRESS TO THEM BOTH. 
 
 ^- 
 
 STREPHON. O WHITHER shall I turn me 
 From thine eyes' sight. 
 Whose sparkling light 
 With quenchless flames, present and ab- 
 sent, burn me ? 
 For I burn when as I view them. 
 And I burn when I eschew them. 
 
 , _ I- 
 
 V V 
 
 KLAiUtS. Since I cannot eschew them. 
 But that their light 
 Is in my sight. 
 Both when I view them not, and when I 
 view them ; 
 Ere their flames will cease to burn me, 
 From myself, myself must turn me. 
 
 STREPH. When none are present by you, 
 I feel their might ; 
 And your eyes bright
 
 A llOUNDELAY. 43 
 
 Appear more glorious, others being nigh you : 
 So alone, or else compared, 
 A¥retch, I am by them ensnared. 
 
 KLAius. Since that I am ensnared 
 
 By your eyes bright. 
 And feel their might. 
 Whether alone they be, or else compared ; 
 Wheresoever I am nigh you. 
 Love I must, if I be by you. 
 
 STREPH. When you look kindly on me. 
 They love incite ; 
 And, spite of spite, 
 I love them likewise when you frown upon me : 
 So, howe'er your looks are framed, 
 By your looks I am inflamed. 
 
 KLAIUS. Since that I am inflamed 
 
 Even by their spite. 
 And they incite 
 Soul-warming flames when they are mildly 
 framed ; 
 Howsoe'er you look upon me. 
 Love I must, if you look on me. 
 
 sTRKPjr. Oh ! when shall I them banish. 
 Since against right, 
 Nor day nor night.
 
 44 
 
 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 Though absent from me^ from me they do vi. 
 nish ? 
 So no respite time doth grant me. 
 But incessantly they haunt me. 
 
 KLAius. Since they, alas ! do haunt me 
 Both day and night, 
 And wonted right, 
 Obtain'd by absence, absence doth not grant me ; 
 Night and day may sooner vanish. 
 Than from me I can them banish. 
 
 STREPH. They, when the day doth leave me. 
 Lodge in my sp'rit ; 
 And of their sight. 
 No sight by day discerned can bereave me: 
 So, nor day aught else revealeth. 
 Nor the night the same concealeth. 
 
 KLAIUS. Since day, like night concealeth 
 Each other siijht. 
 And to mysp'rit 
 Concealing darkness them like day revealeth ; 
 Time of time must quite bereave me. 
 Ere your looks' sweet looks will leave me. 
 
 Walter Davison.
 
 ?s 
 
 STREPHON'S PALINODE. 
 
 Strephon, upon some unkindness conceived, having 
 made show to leave Urania and make love to another 
 nymph, was, at the next solemn assembly of shepherds, 
 not only frowned upon by Urania, but commanded with 
 great bitterness out of her presence: whereupon, sorry for 
 his offence, and desirous to regain her grace, whom he 
 never had forsaken but in show, upon his knees he in 
 this song humbly craves pardon ; and Urania, finding 
 his true penitence, and unwilling to lose so worthy a 
 servant, receives him again into greater grace and fa- 
 vour than before. 
 
 Sweet, I do not pardon crave. 
 
 Till I have 
 By deserts this fault amended : 
 This, I only this desire. 
 
 That your ire 
 May with penance be suspended. 
 
 Not my will, but Fate, did fetch 
 
 Me, poor wretch, 
 Into this unhappy error ;
 
 46 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 Which to plague, no tyrant's mind 
 
 Pain can find 
 Like my heart's self-guilty terror. 
 
 Then, O then, let that suffice ! 
 
 Your dear eyes 
 Need not, need not more afflict me; 
 Nor your sweet tongue, dipp'd in gall, 
 
 Need at all 
 From your presence interdict me. 
 
 Unto him that Hell sustains. 
 
 No new pains 
 Need be sought for his tormenting. 
 Oh ! my pains Hell's pains surpass ; 
 
 Yet, alas ! 
 You are still new pains inventing. 
 
 By my love, long, firm, and true, 
 
 Borne to you; 
 By these tears my grief expressing ; 
 By tliis pipe, which nights and days 
 
 Sounds your praise ; 
 Pity me, my fault confessing. 
 
 Or, if I may not desire. 
 That their ire 
 May with penance be suspetided ;
 
 STREPHON^S PALINODE. 47 
 
 Yet let me fiill pardon crave. 
 
 When I have. 
 With soon death my fault amended. 
 
 urania's answer, in inverted rhymes, 
 staff for staff. 
 
 Since true penance hath suspended 
 
 Feigned ire, 
 JMore I '11 grant than you desire. 
 Faults confess'd are half amended. 
 
 And I have 
 In this half, all that I crave. 
 
 Therefore, banish now the terror 
 
 Which you find 
 In your guiltless grieved mind ; 
 For, though you liave made an error. 
 
 From me, wretch. 
 First beginning it did fetch. 
 
 Ne'er my sight I '11 interdict thee 
 
 IMore at all ; 
 Ne'er speak words more dipp'd in gall ; 
 Ne'er, ne'er will I more afflict thee 
 
 With these eyes : 
 What is past, shall now suffice.
 
 ^8 POETICAL llHAl'.SODY. 
 
 Now new jo3^s 1 11 be inventing. 
 
 Which, alas! 
 May thy passed woes surpass. 
 Too long thou hast felt tormenting ; 
 
 Too great pains 
 So great love and faith sustains. 
 
 Let these eyes, by thy confessing 
 
 Worthy praise. 
 Never see more nights nor days ; 
 Let my woes be past expressing ; 
 
 When to you 
 I cease to be kind and true. 
 
 Thus are both our states amended : 
 
 For you have 
 Fuller pardon than you crave ; 
 And my fear is quite susj^ended. 
 
 Since mine ire 
 Wrought th' effect I most desire. 
 
 Francis Davison.
 
 ECLOGUE. 
 
 A SHEPHERD poor, Eubulus call'd he was ; - 
 
 Poor now, alas ! but erst had jolly been ; 
 One pleasant morn, A\'hen as the Sun did pass 
 The liery horns of raging Bull between. 
 His little flock into a mead did bring, 
 As soon as daylight did begin to spring. 
 
 Fresh was the mead in April's livery dight, 
 
 Deck'd with green trees, bedew'd with silver brooks : 
 But, ah ! all other was the shepherd's plight. 
 All other were both sheep and shepherd's looks ; 
 For both did show, by their dull heavy cheer. 
 They took no pleasure of the pleasant year. 
 
 He weeping went ; ay me that he should weep ! 
 
 They hung their heads, as they to weep would learn : 
 His heavy heart did send forth sighing deep ; 
 They in their bleating voice did seem to yearn : 
 He lean and pale, their fleece was rough and rent ; 
 They pin'd with pain, and he with dolours spent. 
 
 His pleasant pipe was broke, alas ! the while, 
 And former merriment was banish'd quite ;
 
 50 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 His shepherd's crook, that him upheld ere while, 
 He erst had thrown away with great despite : 
 Tho' leaning 'gainst a shrub that him sustain'd. 
 To th' earth, sun, birds, trees, echo thus he plain'd. 
 
 " Thou all forth-bringing earth ! though winter chill 
 With blust'ring winds blow off thy mantle green,' 
 And with his snow and hoary frosts, do spill 
 
 Thy Flora-pleasing flowers, and kill them clean ; 
 Yet when fresh Spring returns again'' 
 To drive away the winter's pain. 
 Thy frost and snow 
 Away do go. 
 Sweet Zephyr's breath cold Boreas doth displace. 
 And fruitless showers 
 Revive thy flowers. 
 And nought but joy is seen in every place. 
 
 " But, ah ! how long, alas ! how long doth last 
 My endless winter, without hope of spring ! 
 How have my sighs, my blust'ring sighs, defac'd 
 The flowers and buds which erst my earth' did bring ! 
 Alas ! the tops that did aspire 
 Lie trodden now in filthy mire ; 
 Alas ! my head 
 Is all bespread 
 
 » With boisterous blasts blow off thy mantle green.-edit. 1602. 
 k Yet soon as spring returns again. — ibid, 
 ' youth, edit. 1608; soul, edit. 1621.
 
 PASTORALS AND ECLOGUES, 51 
 
 With too untimely snow : and eke my heart 
 
 All sense hath lost, 
 
 Throuo-h harden'd frost 
 Of cold despair, that long hath bred my smart. 
 
 " What though some rising torrents overflow 
 
 With nought-regarding streams thy pleasant green, 
 And with their furious force do lay full low 
 
 Thy drowned flowers, however sweet they been ? 
 Soon fall those floods, as soon they rose,™ 
 For fury soon his force doth lose. 
 And then full eath 
 Apollo's breath. 
 The cold, yet drying North-wind, so doth warm. 
 That by and by 
 Thy meads be dry. 
 And grow more fruitful by their former harm. 
 
 " O would the tears, that torrent-like do flow 
 Adown my hollow cheeks with restless force. 
 Would once, O tliat they could once, calmer grow! 
 Would like to thine, once cease their ceaseless course. 
 Thine last not long ; mine still endure : 
 Thine cold ; and so thy Avealth procure : 
 Hot mine are still. 
 And so do kill 
 
 >" Soon fall their flood as they rose. edit. 1602. 
 
 e2
 
 52 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 Both tiower and root, with most unkindly dew : 
 
 What sun or wind 
 
 A way can find, 
 The root once dead, the flowers to renew ? 
 
 " Thou, though the scorching heat of summer's sun. 
 
 While ill-hreath'd dog the raging lion chaseth. 
 Thy speckled flowers do make of colour dun, 
 And pride of all thy greeny hair defaceth ; 
 And in thy moisture-wanting side. 
 Deep wounds do make, and gashes wide : 
 Yet as thy weat" 
 By Phoebus' heat 
 To turn to wholesome dryness is procured. 
 So Phoebus' heat 
 By South-winds weat 
 Is soon assuaged, and all thy wounds recured. 
 
 " Such heat as Phoebus hath me almost slain. 
 
 As Phoebus' heat } ah ! no, far worse than his ; 
 It is Astrea's burning-hot disdain 
 
 That parched hath the root of all my bliss : 
 
 n " Yet as they weat," in the third edition, hut corrected in 
 the text, on the authority of the first edition. Weet was with 
 the extensive poetical licence of the times used for wet whenever 
 the rhyme required it. In support of this assertion, Aixhdeacon 
 Nares has cited Spenser : — 
 
 " And so from side to side till all the world is weet."
 
 PASTORALS AND ECLOGUES. 53 
 
 That hath, alas ! my youth defaced ; 
 That in my face deep wounds hath placed. 
 Ah! that no heat° 
 Can dry the weat.. 
 The flowing weat, of my still weeping eyes ! 
 Ah ! that no weat 
 Can quench the heat. 
 The burning heat within my heart that lies ! 
 
 " Thou dost, poor earth ! bear many a bitter stound ; 
 
 While greedy sv/ains, forgetting former need. 
 With crooked ploughs thy tender back do wound. 
 With harrows' biting teeth do make thee bleed : 
 But earth, so may those greedy swains 
 With piteous eye behold thy pains ! 
 Oh, earth ! tell me. 
 When thou dost see 
 Thy fruitful back with golden ears beset, 
 Doth not that joy 
 Kill all annoy. 
 And make thee all thy former wounds forget ? 
 
 That weat was so used in the text is manifest from the sense of 
 this line and the following ones. Fide p. 53. 
 
 ° In Sir Egerton Brydges's edition, a note gives the follow- 
 ing reading to this line : 
 
 " All three have weat ;" 
 but no authority is cited for it.
 
 54 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 " And I, if once my tired heart might gain 
 The harvest fair that to my faith is due ; 
 If once I might Astrea's grace regain ; 
 
 If once her heart would on my sorrows rue : 
 Alas ! I could these plaints forego. 
 And quite forget my former woe. 
 Butj, oh ! to speak 
 Mj heart doth break ; 
 For all my service;, faith, and patient mind, 
 A crop of grief 
 Without relief, 
 A crop of scorn, and of contempt I find. 
 
 " .Soon as the shepherd's star abroad doth wend. 
 Night's harbinger, to shut in brightsome day. 
 And gloomy night, on whom black clouds attend. 
 Doth, tyrant-like, through sky usurp the sway. 
 Thou art, poor earth, of sun depriv'd. 
 Whose beams to thee all joy deriv'd ; 
 But when Aurore 
 Doth ope her door. 
 Her purple door, to let in Phoebus' wane. 
 The night gives place 
 Unto his race. 
 And then with joy thy sun returns again. 
 
 " Oh ! would my sun would once return again ! 
 Return, and drive away th' infernal night,
 
 PASTORALS AND ECLOGUES. 55 
 
 In which I die, since she did first refrain 
 
 Her heavenly beams, which were mine only light. 
 In her alone all my light shin'd ; 
 And since she shin'd not, I am blind. 
 Alas ! on all 
 Her beams do fall. 
 Save wretched me, whom she doth them deny ; 
 And blessed day 
 She gives alw 
 To all but me, who still in darkness lie. 
 
 In mournful darkness I alone do lie. 
 
 And wish, but scarcely hope, bright day to see; 
 For hop'd so long, and wish'd so long have I, 
 As hopes and wishes both abandon me.P 
 My night hath lasted fifteen years. 
 And yet no glimpse of day appears ! 
 Oh ! do not let 
 Him that hath set 
 His joy, his light, his life, in your sweet grace. 
 Be unreliev'd. 
 And quite depriv'd 
 Of your dear sight, which may this night displace. 
 
 Phoebus, although with fiery-hoofed steeds 
 Thou daily do the steepy welkin beat, 
 
 p " As hopes and wishes both are gone from me."— edit. 1602.
 
 56 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 And from this painful task art never freed^, 
 
 But daily bound to lend the world thy heat ; 
 Though thou in fiery chariot ride, 
 And burning heat thereof abide ; 
 Yet soon as night 
 Doth dim the light, 
 And hale her sable cloak through vaulted sky. 
 Thy journey 's ceast. 
 And thou dost rest 
 In cooling waves of Thetis' sovereignty. 
 
 Thrice happy Sun ! whose pains are ceased by night: 
 
 Ob, hapless I ! whose woes last night and day ! 
 My pains by day do make me wish for night. 
 My woes by niglit do make me cry for day : 
 By day I turmoil up and down. 
 By night in seas of tears I dowij : 
 O painful plight ! 
 O wretched night. 
 Which never finds a morn of joyful light ! 
 O sad decay ! 
 O wretched day. 
 That never feels the ease of silent night ! 
 
 " Ye chirping birds ! whose notes might joy my mind^ 
 If to my mind one drop of joy could sink ; 
 Who erst through Winter's rage were almost pin'd^ 
 And kept through barren frost from meat or drink;
 
 PASTORALS AND ECLOGUES. 57 
 
 A blessed change ye now have seen^ 
 That changed hath your woeful teen : 
 By day you sing. 
 And make to ring 
 The neighbour groves with echo of your song ; 
 In silent night. 
 Full closely dight. 
 You soundly sleep the bushes green among, 
 
 " But I, who erst, ah ! woeful word to say, 
 
 Enjoy'd the pleasant spring of her sweet grace. 
 And then could sing and dance, and sport and play; 
 Since her fierce anger did my spring displace, 
 IMy nightly rest have turn'd to detriment. 
 To plaints have turn'd my wonted merriment : 
 The songs I sing 
 While day doth spring. 
 Are bootless plaints till I can plain no more ; 
 The rest I taste. 
 While night doth last. 
 Is broken sighs, tiU they my heart make sore. 
 
 " Thou flower of the field ! that erst didst fade, 
 
 And nipt with northern cold didst hang the head; 
 And trees whose bared boughs have lost their shade. 
 Whose wither'd leaves by western blasts were shed ; 
 Ye 'gin to bud and spring again : 
 Winter is gone, that did you strain.
 
 58 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 But I, that late. 
 
 With upright gait. 
 Bare up my head, while happy favour lasted. 
 
 Now old am grown. 
 
 Now overthrown. 
 With woe, with grief, with wailing now am wasted. 
 
 " Your springing stalk with kindly juice doth sprout. 
 My fainting legs do waste and fall away; 
 Your stretched arms are clad with leaves about. 
 My grief-consumed arms do fast decay ; 
 You 'gin again your tops lift up, 
 I down to earth-ward 'gin to stoop : 
 Each bough and twig 
 Doth wax so big. 
 That scarce the rind is able it to hide ; 
 I do so faint. 
 And pine with plaint. 
 That slops, and hose, and galage, *> wax too wide. 
 
 " Echo, how well may she that makes me moan. 
 By thy example learn to rue my pain ! 
 Thou hear'st my plaints when as I wail alone. 
 And wailing accents answerest again : 
 
 q Galage is described by Archdeacon Nares to be " a clown's 
 coarse shoe. The word galloche is now naturalized among us 
 for a kind of clog worn over the shoes."
 
 PASTORALS AXD ECLOGUES. 59 
 
 When as my breast through grief I beat. 
 That woeful sound thou dost repeat ; 
 When as I sob. 
 And heartly throb, 
 A doleful sobbing sound again thou sendest ; 
 And when I weep. 
 And sigh full deep, 
 A weepy, sighing voice again thou lendest. 
 
 " But, ah ! how oft have my sad plaints assay 'd 
 To pierce her ears, deaf only unto me ! 
 How oft my woes, in mournful ink array'd. 
 Have tried to make her eyes my griefs to see ! 
 And you, my sighs and tears, how often 
 Have ye sought her Lard heart to soften ! 
 And yet her eye 
 Doth still deny. 
 For all my woes, one bitter tear to shed ; 
 And yet her heart 
 Will not impart 
 One hearty sigh for grief herself hath bred. 
 
 " Nor I, alas ! do wish that her fair eyes. 
 
 Her blessed-making eyes, should shed a tear; 
 Nor that one sigh from her dear breast should rise. 
 For all the pains, the woes, the wrongs I bear : 
 First, let this weight oppress me still. 
 Ere she through me taste any ill.
 
 60 POETICAL HHAPSODY. 
 
 Ah ! if I might 
 
 But gain her sight. 
 And show her ere I die my wretched case : 
 
 O then should I 
 
 Contented die : 
 But ah ! I die, and hope not so much grace." 
 
 With that his fainting legs to shrink begun. 
 
 And let him sink with ghastly look to ground ; 
 And there he lay, as though his life were done. 
 Till that his dog, seeing that woeful stound. 
 With piteous howling, kissing, and with scraping. 
 Brought him again from that sweet sour escaping. 
 
 Then 'gan his tears so swiftly for to flow. 
 
 As forced his eyelids for to give them way; 
 Then blust'ring sighs too boist'rously 'gan blow. 
 As his weak lips could not his fury stay ; '' 
 And inward grief Avithal so hugely swell'd. 
 As tears, sighs, grief, had soon all words expell'd. 
 
 At last, when floods of tears began to cease. 
 And storms of weary sighs more calm to blow 
 
 As he went on with words his grief to ease, * 
 And remnant of his broken plaint to show, 
 
 ' And their weak lips could not his fury stay.— edit. 1602. 
 s At last, when as his tears began to cease, 
 And weary sighs more calmly for to blow. 
 As he began with words his grief to ea&e.^-edit. 1G02.
 
 PASTORALS AND ECLOGUES. 61 
 
 He 'spy'd the sky o'erspread with nightly clouds ; 
 So home he went, his flock and him to shroud. 
 
 EUBULUS HIS EMBLEM. 
 uni mihi pergama resta^•t. 
 
 Fkancis Davison.
 
 62 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 ECLOGUE 
 
 ENTITLED CUDDY.t 
 
 A LITTLE herdgroom, for he was no bett'. 
 
 When course of years return'd the pleasant spring. 
 At break of day, withouten further let. 
 
 Cast with himself his flock afield to bring ; 
 
 And for they had so long been pent with pain. 
 At sight of sun they seem'd to live again. 
 
 Such was the flock, all bent to browse and play. 
 
 But nothing such their master was to see : 
 Down hung his drooping head like rainy day; 
 His cheeks with tears like springs bedewed be ; 
 His wringed hand such silent moan did make. 
 Well may you guess he was with love y'take. 
 
 The while his flock went feeding on the green. 
 
 And wantonly for joy of summer play'd ; 
 All in despight, as if he n'ould be seen. 
 
 He cast himself to ground full ill appay'd. 
 
 »Not inserted in the edition of l<i02.
 
 PASTORALS AND ECLOGUES. 63 
 
 Should seem their pleasance made him more com- 
 plain. 
 For joy in sight, not felt, is double pain. 
 
 " Unhappy boy ! why livest thou still," quoth he, 
 
 " And hast thy deadly Avound so long ago ? 
 "What hope of afterhap sustaiueth thee. 
 
 As if there might be found some ease of woe ? 
 Nay, better die ten thousand times than live. 
 Since every hour new cause of death doth give. 
 
 " The joyful Sun, whom cloudy Winter's spight 
 
 Had shut from us in Avatery fishes haske, " 
 Returns again to lend the world his light. 
 And red as rose begins his yearly task : 
 His fiery steeds the steepy welkin beat. 
 And both the horns of climbing Bull do heat. 
 
 '» 
 
 " But ah ! no Sun of grace appears to me ; 
 
 Close hid she lies, from whom I should have light ; 
 The clouds of black disdain so foggy be. 
 That blind I lie, poor boy, bereft of sight : 
 And yet I see the Sun I seek to find ; 
 And yet the more I see, the more am blind. 
 
 " This word was frequently used for the constellation Pisces. 
 See Nares' Glossary, in which this line is cited in proof of it.
 
 64 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 " Thrice happy ground! whom, spoiled with winter's 
 rage. 
 The heat of pleasant spring renews again : 
 Unhappy I, who, in my spring of age. 
 
 The frost of cold despair hath well nigh slain ; 
 How shall I bide your stormy winter's smart. 
 When spring itself hath froze my bloodless heart? 
 
 " I see the beauty of thy flow'rs renew ; 
 
 Thy mantle green with sundry colours spread : 
 Thou see'st in me a change of former hue, 
 Paleness for white, blackness for lively red. 
 
 What hope of harvest fruit, or summer flowers. 
 Since that my spring is drown'd with tears like 
 showers ? 
 
 " And last of all, but liev'st of all to me. 
 
 Thou leany flock that didst of late lament. 
 And witness wast for shepherds all to see ; 
 
 Thy knees so weak, thy fleece so rough and rent. 
 That thou with pain didst pine away unfed. 
 All for thy master was with love misled. 
 
 " Thou 'ginst at erst forget thy former state. 
 And range amid the busks thyself to feed : 
 Fair fall thee, little flock ! both rathe and late ; 
 Was never lover's sheep that well did speed. 
 Thou free, I bound ; thou glad, I pine in pain ; 
 I strive to die, and thou to live full fain.
 
 PASTORALS AND KCLOliUKS. 65 
 
 Woe worth the stund, wherein I took delight 
 
 To frame the shifting of my nimble feet 
 To cheerful sound of pipe in moonshine night ! 
 
 Such pleasance past at erst now makes me greet ; '^ 
 I ween'd by night have shunn'd the parching ray ; 
 But night itself was twice more hot than day. 
 
 Then first of all, and all too soon for me, 
 
 I saw thilke Lass, nay graved her in my breast ; ^ 
 Her chrystal eyes more bright than moon to see. 
 Her eyes, her eyes, that have robb'd me of rest : ' 
 On them I gaz'd, then saw I to my cost. 
 Through too much sight mine only sight is lost- 
 
 Where been the dapper ditties that I dight. 
 
 And roundelays, and virelays so soot ? 
 Whilom with Colin's self compare I might. 
 For other swain to strive was little boot. 
 Such skill I had in making all above ; 
 But all too little still to conquer love. 
 
 What helps it to me to have my piping praised 
 Of all save her, whom I would only please ? 
 
 Nought care 1, though my fame to skies be raised * 
 For pleasant song that brings my heart no ease, 
 
 » At erst does gar me greet — cdil. 1621. 
 y Yea more than saw her too. ilnd. 
 « Eyes through which 1 am undo. ibid. 
 » Nought care I thouj^ii my IVime'to s.ky be rais'd. ildd. 
 
 F
 
 66 POKTICAL KHAPSOUV. 
 
 Wherefore both pipe and song I all forswear, 
 And former pleasance wilfully forbear. 
 
 With that he cast his look to welkin high. 
 And saw the double shadows flit away : 
 And as he glanced half in despight awry. 
 He spy'd the shepherds star shut in the day ; 
 
 Then rose, and homeward with his flock he went. 
 Whose voice did help their master's case lament.
 
 PASTOKALS AND ECLOGUES. 67 
 
 CUDDY'S EMBLEM. 
 
 QUESTO PER AMAK S AQUISTA. 
 THE CHRISTIAN STOICK. 
 
 The virtuous man is free, though bound in chains ; 
 
 Though poor, content ; though banish'd, yet no stranger; 
 Though sick, in health of mind ; secure in danger ; 
 
 And o'er himself, the world, and fortune reigns. 
 
 Nor good haps, proud, nor bad, dejected make him ; 
 
 To God's, not to Man's will, he frames each action ; 
 He seeks no fame but inward satisfaction ; 
 
 And firmer stands, the more bad fortune shakes him. 
 
 F 2
 
 08 POETICAL llHAPSODy. 
 
 AN ECLOGUE:, 
 
 MADE LONG SINCE UPON THE DEATH OF 
 SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. 
 
 THENOT. PERIN- 
 THENOT. 
 
 Perin areed what new mischance betide. 
 Hath reft thee of thy wonted merriment ? 
 Fair feeds thy flock this pleasant spring beside ; 
 Nor love, I ween, hath made thee discontent, 
 Sild a!je and love do meet in one consent. 
 
 ^o^ 
 
 PERIN. 
 
 Ah, Thenot ! where the joy of heart doth fail. 
 What marvel there, if mirth and music quail ? 
 See how the flow'rets of the fleld do spring ! 
 The purple rose, the lily white as snow. 
 With smell and colour for an harvest king, 
 May serve to make us young again, I trow : 
 Yet all this pride is quickly laid full low : 
 Soon as the root is nipt with northern cold, 
 What smell, or beauty, can we then behold ?
 
 PASTORALS AND ECLOGUES. 69 
 
 THKNOT. 
 
 As good not hear, as heard, not understand : 
 My borrell brains through eld been all too dull, 
 Sike mister meaning nill by me be scann'd. 
 All as my face, so wrinkled is my skull. 
 Then say me, Perin, by thy hope of wull. 
 
 And by thine ewes' blown bags, and bagpipes sound. 
 
 So not one aneling in thy flock be found. 
 
 PERIN. 
 
 Ah, The NOT ! by thine alderliefest lass. 
 
 Or whatsoever is more dear to thee. 
 
 No bagpipe name ; let song and solace pass ; 
 
 Death hath undone my flock, my pipe and me ; 
 
 Dead is the sheep's delight, and shepherd's glee ; 
 
 Broke is my pipe, and I myself forlorn ; 
 
 My sheep unfed, their fleeces rent and torn. 
 
 THE NOT. 
 
 I mickle mused such uncouth change to see : 
 My flocks refused to feed, yet hale they were ; 
 The tender birds sat drooping on the tree ; 
 The careless lambs went wand'ring here and there; 
 Myself unknown a part of grief did bear : 
 Nor wist I why, yet heavy was my heart, 
 Untimely death was cause of all this smart. 
 
 Up, Perin, up, advance thy mournful lays ; 
 
 Sound loud thy pipe, but sound in doleful wise.
 
 70 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 PERIN. 
 
 Who else but The not can the Muses raise. 
 
 And teach them sing and dance in mournful guise ? 
 
 My finger 's stiff, — my voice doth hoarsely rise. 
 
 THENOT. 
 
 All ! where is Colin, and his passing skill ? 
 For him it fits our sorrow to fulfil. 
 
 PERIN. 
 
 T'way sore extremes our Colin press so near: 
 Alas that such extremes should press him so ! 
 The want of wealth, and loss of love so dear : 
 Scarce can he breathe from under heaps of woe : 
 He that bears heaven, bears no such weight, I trow. 
 
 THENOT. 
 
 Hath he such skill in making all above, 
 And hath no skill to get, or A^^ealth, or love ? 
 
 PERIN. 
 
 Praise is the greatest prize that Poets gain, 
 A simple gain that feeds them ne'er a whit. 
 The wanton lass for whom he bears such pain. 
 Like running water loves to change and flit. 
 But if thou list to hear a sorry fit. 
 
 Which Cuddy could in doleful verse indite. 
 Blow thou thy pipe, while I the same recite.
 
 PASTORALS AND ECLOGUES. 71 
 
 THENOT. 
 
 'Gin when thou list, albeit my skill but small, 
 jMy forward mind shall make amends for all. 
 
 PESIN. 
 
 Ye nymphs that bathe your bodies in the spring. 
 Your tender bodies, white as driven snow ; 
 Ye virgins chaste which in this grove do sing. 
 Which neither grief of love, nor death do know : 
 So may j^our streams run clear for aye ! 
 So may your trees give shade alway ! 
 
 Depart a space. 
 
 And give me place 
 To wail ivith grief my restless woe alone ; 
 
 For fear my cries 
 
 Constrain your eyes 
 To shed forth tears, and help lament my moan. 
 
 And thou, my Muse, that Vv^hilom wont to ease 
 Thy master's mind with lays of sweet delight. 
 Now change those tunes, no joy my heart can> please : 
 Gone is the day, come is the darksome night. 
 Our sun close hid in clouds doth lie : 
 We live, indeed ; ])ut living die. 
 No light we see. 
 Yet wander we; 
 We wander far and near without a guide :
 
 72 POETICAL nilAISODY. 
 
 And all astray 
 We lose our way, 
 F'or in this world n'is such sun beside. 
 
 Ye shepherds' boys that lead your, flocks afield 
 The whilst your sheep feed safely round about. 
 Break me your pipes that pleasant sound did yield ; 
 Sing now no more the songs of Colin Clout. 
 Lament the end of all our joy. 
 Lament the source of all annoy. 
 
 Willy is dead. 
 
 Who wont to lead 
 Our flocks and us in mirth and shepherd's glee : 
 
 Well could he sing^ 
 
 Well dance and spring ; 
 Of all the shepherds was none such as he. 
 
 How often has his skill in pleasant song 
 Drawn all the water nymphs from out their bow'rs .'' 
 How have they lain the tender grass along. 
 And made him garlands gay of smelling flow'rs ! 
 Phoebus himself, that conquer'd Pan, 
 Striving with Willy, nothing wan. 
 Methinks I see 
 The time when he 
 Pluck'd from his golden locks the laurel crown ; 
 And so to raise 
 Our Willy's praise, 
 Bedeck'd his head, and softly set him down.
 
 PASTORALS AND ECLOGUES. 73 
 
 The learned Muses flock'cl to hear his skill. 
 And quite forgot their water, wood, and mount ; 
 They thought his songs were done too quickly still ; 
 Of none but Willy's pipe they made account. 
 He sang, they seem'd in joy to flow ; 
 He ceas'd, they seem'd to weep for woe. 
 
 The rural rout. 
 
 All round about. 
 Like bees came swarming thick to hear him sing; 
 
 Not could they think 
 
 On meat or drink 
 While Willy's music in their ears did ring. 
 
 But now, alas ! such pleasant mirth is past ! 
 Apollo weeps, the Muses rend their hair ; 
 No joy on earth that any time can last : 
 See where his breathless corpse lies on the bier ! 
 That selfsame hand that reft his life 
 Hath turned shepherds' jjeace to strife. 
 
 Our joy is fled. 
 
 Our life is dead. 
 Our hope, our help, our glory all is gone ; 
 
 Our poet's praise. 
 
 Our happy days, 
 And nothing left but grief to think thereon. 
 
 What Thames, what Severn, or Avhat western seas. 
 Shall give me floods of trickling tears to shed ?
 
 l-i* POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 What comfort can my restless grief appease ? 
 Oh that mine eyes were fountains in my head ! 
 Ah, Colin, I lament thy case : 
 For thee remains no hope of grace. 
 The best relief 
 Of Poet's grief 
 Is .dead and Avrapp'd full cold in filthy clay ; 
 And nought remains 
 To ease our pains. 
 But hope of death to rid us hence away. 
 
 Phillis, thine is the greatest grief, above the rest. 
 Where bin thy sweetest posies featly dight. 
 Thy garlands with a true-love's knot addrest. 
 And all that erst thou Willy didst behight .'* 
 Thy labour all is lost in vain ; 
 The grief shall aye remain. 
 The sun so bright 
 That falls to-night. 
 To-morrow from the East again shall rise ; 
 But we decay 
 And waste away. 
 Without return : alas ! thy Willy dies. 
 
 See how the drooping flocks refuse to feed ! 
 The rivers stream with tears about the bank ; 
 The trees do shed their leaves, to wail agreed ; 
 The beasts, unfed, go mourning all in ranks ;
 
 PASTORALS AND ECLOGUES. 75 
 
 The sun denies the earth his light ; 
 The spring is kill'd with winter's might ; 
 The flowers spill. 
 The birds are still. 
 No voice of joy is heard in any place ; 
 The meadows green 
 A change have seen. 
 And Flora hides her pale disfigur'd face. 
 
 Watch now, ye shepherds' boys, with waking eye. 
 And lose your time of sleep to learn to sing. 
 Unhappy skill, what good is got thereby 
 But painted praise that can no profit bring ? 
 If skill could move the sisters three. 
 Our Willy still alive should be. 
 
 The wolf so woo'd 
 
 Amazed stood 
 At sound of Willy's pipe, and left his prey. 
 
 Both pipe and skill 
 
 The sisters spill : 
 So worse than any wicked wolf are they. 
 
 O flatt'ring hope of mortal men's delight ! 
 So fair in outward show, so foul within : 
 The deepest streams do flow full calm to sight ; 
 The rav'ning wolves do jet in wether's skin. 
 
 We deem'd our Willy aye should live, 
 
 So sweet a sound his pipe could give.
 
 76 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 But cruel deatli 
 Hath stopp'd his breath : 
 , Dumb lies his pipe that wont so Bweet to sound : 
 Our Hocks liment 
 His life is spent^ 
 And careless wander all the woods around. 
 
 " Come now, ye shepherds' daughters, come no more 
 To hear the songs that Cuddy wont to sing : 
 Hoarse is my Muse, my throat with crying sore ; 
 These woods with echo of my grief do ring. 
 Your Willy's life was Cuddy's joy ; 
 Your Willy's death hath kill'd the boy : 
 
 Broke lies my pipe 
 
 TiU reeds be ripe 
 To make a new one, but worse I fear : 
 
 Save year by year 
 
 To wail my dear. 
 All pipe and song I utterly forswear." 
 
 THE NOT. 
 
 Alack and well-a-day ! may shepherds cry, 
 Gur Willy dead, our Colin kill'd with care ! 
 Who shall not loath to live, and long to die ? 
 And will not grief our little Cuddy spare. 
 But must he too of sorrow have a share ? 
 
 Aye how his rueful verse hath prick'd my heart ! 
 
 How feelingly hath he exi)ress'd our smart !
 
 i'ASTOUALS AND ECLOGUES. 77 
 
 PERIN. 
 
 Ah, Thenot ! hadst thou seen his sorry look. 
 His wringed hands, his eyes to heaven upcast, 
 His tears that stream'd like water in the brook. 
 His sighs, that made his rhymes seem rudely drest. 
 But hie we homeward ; night approacheth near. 
 And rainy clouds in southern skies appear. 
 
 A. W.
 
 78 POETICAL KHAPSODY. 
 
 ® 
 
 ECLOGUE. 
 
 SHEPHERD. HEBDMAN. 
 SHEPHERD. 
 
 Come, gentle herdman, sit by me, 
 
 And tune thy pipe by mine. 
 Here underneath this willow tree. 
 
 To shield the hot sunshine ; 
 Where I have made my summer bower. 
 
 For proof of summer beams ; 
 And deck'd it up with many a flower. 
 
 Sweet seated by the streams; 
 Where gentle Daphne once a day 
 
 These flow'ry banks doth walk. 
 And in her bosom bears away 
 
 The pride of many a stalk ; 
 But leaves the humble heart behind. 
 
 That should her garland dight ; 
 And she, sweet soul ! the more unkind 
 
 To set true loves so light: 
 But whereas others bear the bell. 
 
 As in her favour blest. 
 Her shepherd loveth her as well 
 
 As those whom she loves best.
 
 PASTORALS AND E(;LOGUES. 79 
 
 HEKDSIAN. 
 
 Alas, poor pastor ! I find 
 
 Thy love is lodg'd so high. 
 That on thy flock thou hast no mind. 
 
 But feed'st a wanton eye. 
 If dainty Daphne's looks besot 
 
 Thy doating heart's desire. 
 Be sure, that far above thy lot 
 
 Thy liking doth aspire. 
 To love so sweet a nymph as she. 
 
 And look for love again. 
 Is fortune fitting high degree. 
 
 Not for a shepherd's swain. 
 For she of lordly lads becoy'd. 
 
 And sought of great estates ; 
 Her favour scorns to be enjoy'd 
 
 By us poor lowly mates. 
 Wherefore I warn thee to be wise ; 
 
 Go with me to my walk. 
 Where lowly lasses be not nice ; 
 
 There like and choose thy make : 
 Where are no pearls or gold to view, 
 
 No pride of silken sight, 
 But petticoats of scarlet hue, 
 
 Which veil the skin snow-white. 
 There truest lasses be to get 
 
 For love and little cost : 
 There sweet desire is paid his debt. 
 
 And labour seldom lost.
 
 80 I'OETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 SHEPHERD. 
 
 No, herdman, no! thou rav'st too loud. 
 
 Our trade so vile to hold ; 
 My weed as great a heart doth shroud, 
 
 As his that 's clad in gxild. 
 And take the truth that I thee tell. 
 
 This song fcdr Daphne sings. 
 That Cupid will be served as well 
 
 Of shepherds as of kings. 
 For proof whereof, old books record 
 
 That Venus, queen of love. 
 Would set aside her warlike lord. 
 
 And youthful pastor's prove ; 
 How Paris was as well beloved 
 
 As simple shepherd's boy. 
 As after when that he was proved 
 
 King Priam's son of Troy. 
 And therefore have I better hope. 
 
 As had those lads of yore : 
 My courage takes as large a scope. 
 
 Although their haps Avere more. 
 And that thou shalt not deem I jest. 
 
 And bear a mind more base. 
 No meaner hope shall haunt my breast 
 
 Than dearest Daphne's grace. 
 IMy mind no other thought retains ; 
 
 Mine eye nought else admires ; 
 My heart no other passion strains. 
 
 Nor other hap desires.
 
 PASTORALS AND ECLOGUES. 81 
 
 My Muse of nothing else entreats. 
 
 My pipe nought else doth sound. 
 My veins no other fever heats. 
 
 Such faith's in shepherds found. 
 
 HERDMAN. 
 
 Ah ! shepherd, then I see, with grief, 
 
 Thy care is past all cure ; 
 No remedy for thy relief, 
 
 But patiently endure. 
 Thy wonted liberty is fled. 
 
 Fond fancy breeds thy bane. 
 Thy sense of folly brought abed. 
 
 Thy wit is in the wane, 
 I can but sorrow for thy sake. 
 
 Since love lulls thee asleep ; 
 And whilst out of thy dream thou wake, 
 
 God shield thy straying sheep ! 
 Thy wretched flock may rue and curse 
 
 This proud desire of thine. 
 Whose woeful state from bad to worse 
 
 Thy careless eye will pine. 
 And even as they, thyself likewise 
 
 With them shall wear and waste 
 To see the spring before thine eyes. 
 
 Thou thirsty canst not taste. 
 Content thee, therefore, with conceit. 
 
 Where others gain the grace ; 
 
 G
 
 82 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 And think thy fortune at the height. 
 
 To see but Daphne's face. 
 Although thy truth deserved well 
 
 Reward above the rest. 
 Thy haps shall be but means to tell 
 
 How other men are blest. 
 So, gentle shepherd, farewell now ! 
 
 Be warned by my reed; 
 For I see WTitten in thy brow, 
 
 Thy heart for love doth bleed. 
 Yet longer with thee would I stay. 
 
 If aught would do thee good ; 
 But nothing can the heat allay. 
 
 Where love inflames the blood. 
 
 SHEPHERD. 
 
 Then, herdman, since it is my lot. 
 
 And my good liking such. 
 Strive not to break the faithful knot 
 
 That thinks no pain too much: 
 For what contents my Daphne best 
 
 I never will despise. 
 So she but wish my soul good rest 
 
 When death shall close mine eyes. 
 Then, herdman, farewell once again. 
 
 For now the day is fled : 
 
 So might thy cares, poor shepherd's swain. 
 
 Fly from thy careful head ! 
 
 Ignoto. '' 
 
 b Edit. 1602.
 
 ECLOGUE. 
 
 CONCERNING OLD AGE. 
 
 [The beginning and end of this Eclogue are wanting.] 
 
 PERIN. WRENOCK. 
 PERIN. 
 
 For when thou art not as thou wont of yore. 
 No cause why life should please thee any more. 
 Whilom I was in course of former years. 
 Ere freezing Eld had cool'd my youthful rage ; 
 Of mickle worth among my shepherds' peers. 
 Now for I am some-deal 'ystept in age. 
 For pleasance, strength, and beauty 'gins assuage, 
 Each little herd-groom laughs my wrinkled face 
 Each bonny lass for Cuddy shuns the place : 
 For all this woe none can we justly twight. 
 But hateful Eld, the foe to pleasant rest. 
 Which like a thief doth rob us of delight. 
 
 WRENOCK. 
 
 Perin, enough ; few words be always best ; 
 Needs must be borne that cannot be redrest. 
 
 g2
 
 84 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 Self am I as thou seest in tliilke estate ; 
 
 The grief is eath to bear that has a mate : 
 But sicker for to speak the truth, indeed. 
 Thou seem'st to blame that blameless seems to me. 
 And hurtless Eld to sneb ; ill mought he speed. 
 That slays the dog, for wolves so wicked be ; 
 The faidts of men thou lay'st on age, I see ; 
 
 For which if Eld were in itself to blame. 
 
 Then 1 and all my peers should taste the same. 
 
 PERIN. 
 
 Wrenock, I ween, thou doat'st through rusty Eld, 
 
 And think'st with feigned words to blear mine eye ; 
 
 Thou for thy store art eA'er blessful held : 
 
 Thy heaps of gold, nil let thee sorrow spy : 
 
 Thy flocks full safe here under shade do lie ; 
 
 Thy weanlings fat, thine ewes with bladder blown : 
 
 A jollier shepherd have we seldom known. 
 
 WRENOCK. 
 
 For tliilke my store, great Pan y'herried be : 
 But if for thee mine age with joy I bear. 
 How falls it that thyself unlike to me. 
 Art vexed so with grief and bootless fear .'' 
 Thy store will let thee sleep on either ear. 
 
 But neither want makes age to wise men hard ; 
 
 Nor fools by wealth from grievous pain are barr'd.
 
 PASTORALS AND ECLOGUES. 85 
 PERIN. 
 
 iSeest not how free yond' lambkin skips and plays. 
 And wags his tail, and buts with tender head ? 
 All for he feels the heat of youthly days, 
 Which secret law of kind hath inly bred. 
 Thilke ewe from whom all joy with youth is fled, 
 
 See how it hangs the head, as it would weep; 
 
 Whilom it skipp'd,*^ neaths now may it creep. 
 
 WRRNOCK. 
 
 No fellowship hath state of beasts with man ; 
 
 In them is nought but strength of limb and bone. 
 
 Which ends with age, as it with age began. 
 
 But man they say'n as other creature none ; 
 
 Hath uncouth fire convey'd from heaven by one : 
 Ilis name, I wist, that yields him inward light, 
 Sike lire as "\^^elkin shows in winter night. 
 
 Whicli neither age nor time can wear away ; 
 
 Which waxeth bett' for use, as shepherd's crook. 
 
 That ever shineth brighter day by day. 
 
 Also though wrinkled seems the aged look. 
 
 Bright shines the fire that from the stars we took. 
 And sooth to say, thilke ewe laments the pain 
 That thilke same wanton lamb will like sustain. 
 
 t W'rigs edit. 1C(!'2.
 
 86 POETICAL RHAl'SODV. 
 
 PERIN. 
 
 All, Tlionot ! be not all thy teeth on edge, 
 
 To see youth's folk to sport in pastimes gay ? 
 
 To pith the harr, to throw the Aveighty sledge ; 
 
 To dance with Phillis all the holy-day ; 
 
 To hunt by day, the fox ; by night, the gray ? "^ 
 Site peerless pleasures wont us for to queem. 
 Now lig we laid, as drown'd in heavy dream. 
 
 d A ' badger.' Tlie same term appears to be applied to that 
 animal, in the Canlerbury Tales : 
 
 " I saw his sieves pnrfited at the hond 
 Witli {jris^ and that the finest of the lond." 
 Mr. Tyrwhitt states that he is not clear what species of fur 
 was meant : but the following passage from Skelton's Crowne of 
 Lawrell tends to prove that gris or yrey meant the badger : 
 
 " In general wordes I say nat greatly nay, 
 A poet somtyme may for his pleasanre taunt, 
 Spekyng in parables, howe the fox, the grey. 
 The gander, the goose, and the huge oliphant." 
 
 In the will of Thomas Mussenden, dated in 1402, the ex- 
 pression also occurs, 
 
 " A gown of skai'let furred with red gray.'''' 
 And again in that of Lady Elizabeth Andi-ews, in 1474 — Testa- 
 rnenta Veiiista, pp. 161 and :130. 
 
 « Omitted in tlie fourth edition.
 
 SONNETS, ODES, ELEGIES, 
 MADRIGALS, AND EPIGRAMS, 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANCIS DAVISON AND WALTER DAVISON, 
 BRETHREN. 
 
 SONNETS. 
 
 A COMPLAINT. 
 
 OF WHICH ALL THE STAA'ES END WITH THE WOUDS OF 
 THE FIRST, I.IKE A SESTINE. 
 
 I. 
 
 Ye ghastly groves, that hear my woeful cries. 
 Whose shady leaves do shake to hear my pain ; 
 Thou silver stream, that dost with tears lament 
 The cruel chance that doth my grief increase ; 
 Ye chirping birds, whose cheerless notes declare 
 That ye bewail the woes I feel in mind! 
 Bear witness how with care I do consume. 
 And hear the cause why thus I pine away !
 
 88 
 
 POETICAL RHAPSODY 
 
 II. 
 
 Love is the cause that makes me pine away. 
 
 And makes you hear the echo of my cries. 
 
 Through grief's increase : and tliough the cause of pain 
 
 Which dotli enforce me still thus to lament. 
 
 Proceed from love, and though my pain increase 
 
 By daily cries which do that pain declare. 
 
 And witness are of my afflicted mind. 
 
 Yet cry I will, till crying me consume. 
 
 III. 
 For as the fire the stubble doth consume. 
 And as the wind doth drive the dust away. 
 So pensive hearts are spent with doleful cries. 
 And cares distract the mind with pinching pain. 
 But all in vain I do my cares lament ; 
 IMy sorrow doth my sobs, sighs, tears increase : 
 Though sobs, sighs, tears, my torments do declare. 
 Sobs, sighs, nor tears, move not her flinty mind. 
 
 IV. 
 
 I am cast out of her ungrateful mind ; 
 And she hath sworn I shall in vain consume 
 IMy weary days — my life must Avaste away, 
 Consum'd with pain, and worn with restless cries.' 
 So Philon)el, too much oppress'd with pain. 
 By his misdeed that causeth her lament. 
 Doth day and niglit her mournful lays increase. 
 And to the woods her sorrows doth declare. 
 
 ' Consum'd with deadly pain and restless cries edit. 1621.
 
 A COMPLAINT. 89 
 
 V. 
 
 Some ease it is, hid sorrows to declare;® 
 But too small ease to such a grieved mind. 
 Which by repeating woes doth more consume. 
 To end which woes I lind at all no way; 
 A simple salve to cure so great a pain ; 
 But to death's deafened ears to bend my cries. 
 Come, then, ye ghastly owls, help me lament ! 
 And as my cries, so let your shrieks increase. 
 
 s " The conclusion of this poem," remarks the accui-ate Mr, 
 Haslewood in a note to Sir Egerton Brydges' reprint, " is mate- 
 rially varied in the fourth edition, with an addition of four 
 lines : it is thus printed :" 
 
 It is some ease, hid sorrows to declare, 
 But too small ease to su^ch a grieved mind ; 
 As by rej)eating cries doth more consume, 
 To end that wliich he finds at all no way. 
 But careful sighs mingled with rutliless cries, 
 (A simple salve to cure so great a pain :) 
 Come then, ye ghastly owls, help me lament. 
 With fearful shrieks, and as your shrieks increase. 
 
 VI. 
 
 When as the sun departing doth increase 
 The doubted shadows which as signs declare 
 The night draws near : so I to ease my mind, 
 Here will augment my plaints ; so to consume 
 My wasted life : and though you fly away 
 Soon as the day returns and cease your cries ; 
 Yet I, unhappy wretch, oppress'd with pain, 
 But day and nigiit am forced to lament
 
 90 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 VI. 
 
 For as your shrieks the tunes of death increase. 
 When sun is set and shadows do declare 
 The night's approach ; so I from my dark mind, 
 Since my bright sun is fled, in cries consume 
 My night of woes ; and though you fly away 
 Soon as the day returns and cease your cries. 
 Yet I by day find no release of pain. 
 But day and night so foul a change lament. 
 
 VII. 
 
 So foul a change : but while I thus lament 
 My grief with tears, the more for to increase 
 My woe with scoffs, my state she doth declare 
 To him who first from me her wanton mind 
 By gifts did win ; since when I still consume 
 Ay more and more ; ne find I any way 
 To ease my mind : but thus with mournful cries 
 I living die, and dying live in pain. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 And now adieu delight, and farewell ]i;iiu ; 
 Adieu vain hope ; I shall no more lament 
 Her feigned faith which did my woes increase ! 
 And ye to whom my griefs I thus declare ; 
 Ye which have heard the secrets of my mind, 
 And seen my lingering life in pain consume ; 
 Adieu, ye woods and waters ! hence away ; 
 By death I must, and cease my ruthful cries. 
 
 Ye which hear not my cries, nor know my pain. 
 Yet do my chance lament ; let pity increase : 
 Your grief by tears declare, to ease your mind : 
 Witness how I consume and waste away.
 
 INSCRIPTIONS. 91 
 
 VII. 
 
 But while I thus to senseless things lament, 
 Ruth of my case in them thereby d' increase. 
 Which she feels not, with scoffs she doth declare 
 My pangs to him, who first her wanton mind 
 From me did win : since when I still consume 
 Like wax 'gainst tire, like snow that melts away 
 Before the sun : thus, thus, with mournful cries 
 I living die, and dying live in pain. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 And now adieu delight, and farewell pain ; 
 Adieu vain hope ; I shall no more lament 
 Her feigned faith which did my woes increase ! 
 And ve to whom my griefs I thus declare; 
 Ye which have lieard the secrets of my mind ; 
 And seeing then my ling'ring life in pain consume, 
 Grove, brook, and birds adieu ! now hence away ; 
 By death I will, and cease my deadly cries. 
 
 Francis Davison. 
 
 INSCRIPTIONS. 
 
 TIIISBE. 
 
 Yi: woeful sires, whose causeless hate hath bred 
 Grief to yourselves, death to my love and me, 
 Let us not be disjoin'd when we are dead, 
 Though we alive conjoin'd could never be.
 
 92 POETICAL IIHAPSODV. 
 
 Though cruel stars deny'd us two one bed. 
 Yet in one tomb us two entombed see. 
 Like as the dart was one, and one the knife. 
 That did beajin our love and end our life. 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA TO HER SON ORESTES, 
 
 COMING TO KILL HER FOR MURDERING HIS FATHER 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Hold ! hold thy hand, vile son of viler mother ! 
 Death I deserve, but oh not by thy knife. 
 One parent to revenge wilt thou kill the other. 
 And give her death that gave thee, wretch, thy life ? 
 Furies will plague thy murder execrable. 
 Stages will play thee, and all mothers curse thee. 
 To wound this womb or breast, how art thou able. 
 When the one did bear thee, and the other nurse thee ? 
 
 AJAX. 
 
 This sword is mine, or will Laertes' son 
 Win this as he Achilles' armour won. 
 This sword, which you, O Greeks, oft bathed have known 
 In Trojan blood, I '11 now bathe in mine own. 
 This fearless breast, which all mine enemies fierce 
 Have left unpierced, now I myself will pierce. 
 So men shall say, Ajax to none did yield. 
 But t' Ajax' self; and Ajax, Ajax kill'd.
 
 INSCRIPTIONS. 99 
 
 R03IULUS. 
 
 No common womb was fit me forth to bring, 
 But a pure virgin priest, child to a king : 
 No mortal father worthy was to breed me ; 
 Nor human milk was fierce enough to feed me. 
 Therefore the God of war by wonder bred me. 
 And a she-wolf by no less ^vonder fed me. 
 In fine, the Gods, because earth was too base, 
 T' entomb me dead, did me in heaven place. 
 
 FABRITIUS CURIO, 
 
 WHO REFUSED GOLD OP THE SAMNITES, AND DIS- 
 COVERED TO KING PyilRHUS HIS PHYSICIAN, 
 WHO SOUGHT TO POISON HIM. 
 
 My famous country values gold far less 
 
 Than conquest brave of such as gold possess. 
 
 To be o'ercome with wealth I do not use. 
 
 And to o'ercome with poison I refuse. 
 
 No hands loves more than mine to give to many ; 
 
 No heart hates more than mine to take of any. 
 With so firm steel virtue my mind hath armed, 
 That not by gold nor iron can it be harmed.
 
 94 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 CATO UTICAN, 
 
 WHO SLEW HIMSELF BECAUSE HE WOULD NOT 
 FALL INTO CvESAR's HANDS. 
 
 CjEsar, thou hast o'ercome^ to thy great fame. 
 Proud Germans, valiant Gauls, and Britons rude, 
 Rome's liberty ; but to thine eternal shame. 
 And her great Champion thou hast each subdued. 
 Yet neither shall thy triumphs with my name 
 Be graced, nor sword be with my blood imbni'd : 
 
 Though all the conquered earth do now serve thee, 
 
 Cato Avill die unconquered and free ! 
 
 A DIALOGUE, 
 
 IN IMITATION OF THAT BETWEEN HORACE AND LYDIA, 
 
 BEGINNING, " DONEC, GRATUS ERAM TIBt," &C. 
 
 LOVER. 
 
 While thou didst love me, and that neck of thine, 
 More sweet, white, soft than roses' silver down. 
 Did wear a necklace of no arms but mine, 
 I envy'd not the King of Spain his crown.
 
 A DIALOGUE. 95 
 
 LADY. 
 
 While of thy heart I was sole sovereign. 
 And thou didst sing none but Melina's name. 
 Whom for bro\ATi Chlok thou dost now disdain. 
 Nor envy'd I the Queen of England's fame. 
 
 LOVER. 
 
 Though Chloe be less fair, she is more kind ; 
 Her graceful dancing doth so please mine eye; 
 And through mine ears her voice so charms my mind. 
 That so, dear, she may live, I 'U willing die. 
 
 LADY. 
 
 Though Crispus cannot sing my praise in verses, 
 I love him so for skill in tilting shown. 
 And graceful managing of coursers fierce. 
 That his dear life to save I '11 lose mine own, 
 
 LOVER. 
 
 What if I sue to thee again for grace, 
 And sing thy praises sweeter than before. 
 If out of my heart I blot Chloe's face. 
 Wilt thou love me again, love him no more .'' 
 
 LADY. 
 
 Though he be fairer than the morning star ; 
 Though lighter than the floating cork thou be ; 
 And than the Irish sea more angry far ; 
 With thee I wish to live, and die with tliee.
 
 96 POETICAL RHAPSODY, 
 
 MADRIGALS. 
 
 I. 
 
 Though you be not content 
 
 That I, poor worm, should love you. 
 As Cupid's power and your sweet beauty cause me ; - 
 
 Yet, dear, let pity move you 
 
 To give me your consent 
 To love my life, as law of nature draws me : 
 And if my life I love, then must I too 
 Love your sweet self, for my life lives in you. 
 
 II. 
 
 BORROWED OUT OF A GREEK EPIGRAM. 
 
 He 's rich enough whose eyes behold thee ; 
 
 Who hears thee sing, a monarch is : 
 
 A demi-god who doth thee kiss ; 
 
 And love himself whose arms enfold thee. 
 
 III. 
 
 UPON HER DREAMING THAT SHE SAW HIM DEAD. 
 
 O fair, yet murd'ring eyes. 
 
 Stars of my miseries. 
 Who while night clouds your beams. 
 How much you wish my death show in your dreams! 
 Is 't not enough that waking you do spill me. 
 
 But you asleep must kill me .'' 
 O kill me still while you your sleep are taking. 
 So you lend me kind looks when you are waking !
 
 SONNETS. 97 
 
 The sound of thy sweet name, my dearest treasure, 
 Delights me more than sight of other faces : 
 A glimpse of thy sweet face breeds me more pleasure, 
 Thau any other's kindest words and graces. 
 
 One gracious word that from thy lips proceedeth, 
 I value more than others' dove-like kisses : 
 And thy chaste kiss in my conceit exceedeth 
 Others' embraces, and love's chiefest blisses. 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 When trait'rous Photine, Caesar did present 
 With his great rival's honourable head. 
 He taught his eyes a stream of tears to shed. 
 Hiding in his false heart his true content. 
 
 And Hannibal, when Fortune's balance light 
 
 Raised low-brought Rome and sway'd proud Carthage 
 down, 
 . While all but he bewail'd their yielding town, 
 He laugh'd to ease his swelling heart's despight. 
 
 Thus cunning minds can mask with diverse art. 
 Grief under feigned smiles, joy under tears : 
 Like Hannibal, I cannot hide my fears, 
 I Setting clear looks upon a cloudy heart, .f- 
 
 II
 
 98 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 But let me joys enjoy, dear, you shall try, 
 Caesar did not his joys so well as I. 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 Whilk love in you did live, I only liv'd in you ; 
 While you for me did burn, for you alone I burned ; 
 While you did sigh for me, for you I sigh'd and 
 
 mourned ; ^ 
 Till you prov'd false to me, to you I was most true. 
 But since love died in you, in you I live no more^ 
 Your heart a servant new, mine a new saint enjoy eth : 
 My sight offends your eyes, mine eyes your sight an- 
 
 noyeth : 
 Since you held me in scorn, by you I set no store. 
 Yet if dead love, if your late iiames return. 
 
 If you lament your change, and count me your sole 
 
 treasure. 
 My love more fresh shall spring, my flame more 
 
 bright shall burn ; 
 I '11 love none else but you, and love you without 
 measure : 
 If not, untrue, farewell : in sand I '11 sow no grain. 
 Nor plant my love, but where love yields me love again.
 
 SONNETS. 99 
 
 TO MISTRESS DIANA. 
 
 Phceuus of all the Gods I Avish to be ; 
 Not of the world to have the overseeing : 
 For of all things in the world's circuit being. 
 One only thing I always wish to see. 
 
 Not of all herbs the hidden force to know. 
 
 For ah ! my wound by herbs cannot be cured : 
 Not in the sky to have a place assured. 
 For my ambition lies on earth below. 
 
 Not to be prince of the celestial quire. 
 
 For I one nymph prize more than all the Muses : 
 Not with his bow to offer love abuses. 
 For I Love's vassal am, and dread his ire : 
 
 But that thy light from mine, might borrow'd be. 
 
 And fair Diana might shine under me. 
 
 MADRIGAL, UPON HIS DEPARTURE. 
 
 Sure, dear, I love you not; for he that lovetli. 
 When he from her doth part. 
 That 's mistress of his heart, 
 
 A deadly pain, a hellish torment proveth. 
 But when sad fates did sever 
 
 Me far from seeing you, I would see ever ; 
 I felt in my absenting 
 No pain, nor no tormenting. 
 
 For sense of pain how could he tind. 
 
 That left his heart and soul behind? 
 
 H 2
 
 100 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 EPIGRAMS, 
 
 TRANSLATED OUT OP MARTIAL 
 
 AD jELIAM, 20. 1. 1. 
 
 Si memini, fnerant tibi quatuor, Aelia, deates, 
 Exspuit una duos tussis, et una duos. 
 
 Jam secura potes totis tussire diebus, 
 Nil istuc quod agat tertia tussis habet. 
 
 Four teeth of late you had, both black and shaking. 
 Which durst not chew your meat for fear of aching ; 
 But since your cough, without a barber's aid. 
 Hath blown them out, you need not be afraid 
 On either side to chew hard crusts, for sure 
 Now from the tooth-ache you live most secure. 
 
 IN HERM. 15. 1. 2. 
 
 Quod nulli calicem tuum jn'opinas, 
 Humane facis, Herme; non superbe. 
 
 A monsieur naso, verole. 
 
 Naso lets none drink in his glass but he. 
 Think you, 'tis curious pride ? 'Tis courtesy.
 
 EPIGRAMS. 101 
 
 DE CODRO, 15, 1. 3. 
 
 Pins credif nemo, quam tola Codrus in urbe. 
 Cum sit tam pauper, quomodo? caecus amat. 
 
 Codrus, although but of mean estate, 
 Trusts more than any merchant in the city ; 
 For being old and blind, he hath of late 
 Married a wife, young, wanton, fair, and witty. 
 
 AD QUINTUM, 76- 1- 5. 
 
 Quae legis cansa nupsit tibi liselia, Quinte, 
 Uxorem banc j)ott'ris dicere legitimam. 
 
 Thy lawful wife fair Ljelia needs must be. 
 For she was fore'd by law to marry thee. 
 
 IN MARONEM, C)S. 1. 11. 
 
 Nil mill! das vivus, dicis post fata daturum. 
 Si non es stultus, scis, Maro, quid cupiam. 
 
 TO A. s. 
 
 Rich Chremes while he lives will nought bestow 
 
 On his poor heirs, but all at his last day. 
 
 If he be half as wise as rich, I trow. 
 
 He thinks that for his life they seldom pray.
 
 102 rOETICAL RHAPSODY, 
 
 Semper eris pauper, si pauper as, jEmiliane. 
 Dantur opes nullis nunc nisi divitibus.* 
 
 TO ALL POOR SCHOLARS. 
 
 Fail ye of wealth, of wealth ye still will fail, 
 None but fat sows are now greas'd in the tail. 
 
 * The followinif translations of tliis Epigram, amongst -which 
 are two, excepting in a mere verbal alteration, the same as that in- 
 the text, togetlier with tiie others which follow them, are taken 
 from Harl. M8S. 2{)0, and the grovmds on which they are attri- 
 buted to- Francis Davisfm are fully explained in the memoir of 
 his life at the commencement of this volume. The words omitted 
 are rendered illegible l>y the carelessness of the binder; in one or 
 two places tlie words apparently defaced are supplied, and placed 
 within bracivets. 
 
 Semper eris ]jaiiper, &c. 
 
 If thou be poor, poor shalt thou still remain, 
 
 Little grows less, but -n-ealth more wealth doth gain. 
 
 [ Those who] are poor shall yet be nearer driv'n : 
 [For] only to the rich are all things giv'n. 
 
 The rich find friends ; the poor stand [quite] alone; 
 They wealth and honour gain ; the poor get none. 
 
 [Failest] thou of wealth?- of wealth thou still wilt fail; 
 [Now] men grease none but fat sows in the tail. 
 
 If thou be poor, thou wilt be poorer yet, 
 For fat sows' tails now all the grease do get. 
 
 If thou be poor, poor still thou 'It be, that 's flat ; 
 No sows' tails now are greas'd, but those are fat. 
 
 Nothing hangs now for poor men's mouths at all ; 
 But all good haps in rich men's mouth do fall. 
 Dost thou want wealth ? 'faith thou shalt want it more. 
 But hast thou much ? thou shalt have greater stere. 
 
 Honour and wealth are wit and virtue's nurses ; 
 And wit arul virtue, wealth and honour merit i
 
 EPIGRAMS. 103 
 
 IN CINNAM, 43. 1. 7- 
 
 Primum est ut prsestes, si quid te, Ciniia, rogabo, 
 Illud deinde sequens, ut cito, Cinna, neges. 
 
 Diligo praestaiitem, non odi, Cinna, negantem, 
 Sed tu iiec prsestas, nee cito, Cinna, negas. 
 
 TO HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 My just demands so one grant or soon deny; 
 Th' one friendship shows, and th' other courtesy. 
 But who, nor soon doth grant, nor soon say no. 
 Doth not true friendship, and good manners know. 
 
 But wit and virtue join'd with empty purses, 
 [Nor] wealth, nor honour, in this time inherit. 
 
 burthen that doth bear the steye 
 
 .... of so sore a weight as poverty. 
 
 Want 's like an Irisli bog, wherein who sticketh, 
 
 By striving to get out, still deeper sinketh. 
 
 Virtue and learning were in former time 
 Sure ladders by the which a man might climl) 
 To honor's seat : Imt now they wiU not hold. 
 Unless the mounting steps l)e made of gold. 
 
 Virtue and learning, that were late neglected. 
 And now (oh ! happy times !) restored to grace; 
 And nothing now in suitors is inspected, 
 But that they have good gifts fit for the place. 
 Who seeks promotion now is not respected. 
 Except he have good gifts for the place. 
 
 The following translations, which have not before been pi'inted, 
 were taken from the same MS. 
 
 Hand facile cmcrcjunt. 
 Viitne, thou canst not now to honour flee 
 Except thy wings with gold well . . .ped be.
 
 104 POETICAL RHAPSODY, 
 
 IN CINNAM, 61. 1. 3. 
 
 Esse nihil dicis, quicquid petis, improbe Cinna ; 
 Si nil, Cinna, petis, nil tibi, Cinna nego. 
 
 Whatso'eb you coggingly require, 
 'Tis nothing, Cinna, still you cry : 
 Then, Cinna, you have your desire; 
 If you ask nought, nought I deny. 
 
 1)E PUILONE, 48. 1. 5. 
 
 Nunquam se ca>nasse domi Pliilo jurat, et hoc est, 
 Non cccnat quoties nemo vocavit eum. 
 
 Philo swears he ne'er eats at home a-nights : 
 He means, he fasts when no man him invites. 
 
 If Virtue's wings be clypt by poverty. 
 She cannot now unto preferment Hy. 
 
 Funi yestato yerilur iimic funi sacerdos, 
 Et juffulum qui ohiit pcctora funis obit. 
 A rope bears him who late a rope did bear ; 
 And what his reins late Avore, his neck doth wear. 
 
 "\^''ho bore a ro])e, now by a rope is borne ; 
 
 And now his neck wears that, his back hath worn. 
 
 Who bare a rope, now liy a rope is borne, 
 And what his loins wore, I)y his neck is worn. 
 
 Te speculum fallit, &c. 
 Gellia, thy glass extremely flatters thee : 
 For if thy filthy face thou once shouldst see 
 In a true glass, doubtless thou wouldst refrain 
 ¥rom ever looking in a glass again, D.
 
 EPIGRAMS. 
 
 12. 1. 12. 
 
 105 
 
 You promise mountains still to me. 
 When over-night stark drunk you be ; 
 But nothing you perform next day : 
 Henceforth be morning drunk, I pray. 
 
 AD PESSIMOS CONJUGES, 35. 1. B. 
 
 Cum sitis similes, paresqiie vita : 
 Uxor pessima, pessimus maritus, 
 IVIiror nou bene convenire vobis. 
 
 Why do your wife and you so ill agree. 
 Since you in manners so well matched be ? 
 Thou brazen-fac'd ; she impudently bold; 
 Thou still dost brawl ; she evermore doth scold. 
 Thou seldom sober art ; she often drunk ; 
 Thou a whore-hunting knave; she a known punk. 
 Both of you filch, both swear, and damn, and lie ; 
 And both take pawns, and Jewish usury. 
 
 Not manners like, make man and wife agree ; 
 
 Their manners must both like and virtuous be. 
 
 EPIGRAMS. 
 
 A UULE yon COURTIEKS. 
 
 He that will tlirive in court, must oft become. 
 Against his will, both blind, and deaf, and dumb.
 
 106 I'OiiTICAL llUAl'SOJDY. 
 
 ON A PAINTED COURTESAN. 
 
 Whosoever saith thou sellest all, doth jest : 
 Thou buy'st thy beauty, that sells all the rest, 
 
 IN AULAM. 
 
 Her sons rich Aula terms her lechers all, 
 
 Whom other dames, loves, friends, and servants call. 
 
 And sure methinks her wit 
 
 Gives them a name more fit ; 
 For if all mothers them their sons do call. 
 Whom they have only borne nine months in all; 
 May she not call them sons with better reason. 
 Whom she hath borne nine times as long a season ? 
 
 for a looking-glass. 
 
 If thou be fair, thy beauties beautify 
 With virtuous deeds and manners answerable : 
 If thou be foul, thy beauties want supply. 
 With a fair mind and actions commendable. 
 
 IN ASINIUBI. 
 
 Thou still wert wont, in earnest or in jest. 
 
 To praise an ass as a most worthy beast. 
 Now like an ass thyself thou still commendest, 
 Whats'e'er thou speakest, with thine own ]}raise thou 
 endest. 
 
 Oh ! I perceive thou praisest learnedly. 
 
 An ass in Thesi and HippothesL
 
 EPIGRAMS. 107 
 
 ON A LIMPING CUCKOLD. 
 
 Thou evermore dost ancient poets blame. 
 For feisnino;: Venus wife to Vulcan lame. 
 I blame the stars, and Hymen too, that gave 
 A fair straight wife to thee, a foul lame knave : 
 And nought doth ease my grief but only this. 
 Thy Venus now hath got a Mars to kiss. 
 
 ON CKA3JB0, A LOUSY SHIFTER. 
 
 By want of shift since lice at tirst are bred ; 
 And after, by the same increas'd and fed : 
 Crambo, 1 muse how you have lice so many; 
 Since all men know you shift as much as any. 
 
 IN QUINTUM. 
 
 QuiNTUs is burnt, and may thereof be glad; 
 For being poor, he hath a good pretence 
 At every church to crave benevolence. 
 For one that had by lire lost all he had. 
 
 IN SABAM. 
 
 Wiiv will not Saba in a glass behold 
 Her face, since she grew wrinkled, pale and old ? 
 Doubtless, I think she doubts that ugly sight. 
 Like cow-turn'd lo would herself affright.
 
 108 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 SONNETS. 
 
 OEDICATION OF THESE RHYMES TO HIS FIRST LOVE. 
 
 If my harsli humble style, and rhymes ill dressed, 
 Arrive not to your worth and beauty glorious. 
 My Muse's shoulders are with weight oppressed. 
 And heavenly beams are o'er my fight victorious. 
 
 If these dim colours have your worth expressed. 
 Laid by love's '' hand, and not by art laborious. 
 Your sun-like rays have my wits' harvest blessed. 
 Enabling me to make your praise notoriou^. 
 
 But if, alas ! alas ! the heavens defend it ! 
 My lines your eyes, my love your heart displeasing, 
 Breed hate in you, and kill my hope of easing ; 
 Say, with yourself, how can the wretch amend it ? 
 I wond'rous fair, he wond'rous dearly loving, 
 How can his thoughts but make his pen be moving } 
 
 THAT-HE CANNOT HIDE OR DISSEMBLE HIS AFFECTION. 
 
 I BEND my wits, and beat my weary brain. 
 To keep my inward grief from outward show. 
 Alas, I cannot ; now 'tis vain, I know, 
 To hide a fire whose fiame appeareth plain. 
 I force my will, my senses I constrain, 
 T' imprison in my heart my secret woe : 
 'i Lovers edit. 1608.
 
 SONNETS.   109 
 
 But musinj?; thoughts, deep sighs, or tears that flow, 
 
 Discover what my heart hides all in vain. 
 
 Yet blame not, dear, this undissembled passion ; 
 
 For Avell may love, within small limits bounded. 
 
 Be wisely mask'd in a disguised fashion: 
 
 But he whose heart, like mine, is thoroughly wounded. 
 
 Can never feign, no, though he were assured 
 
 That feigning might have greater grace procured. 
 
 UPON KIS ABSENCE FROM HER. 
 
 The fairest eye, O eyes in blackness fair! 
 
 That ever shin'd, and the most heavenly face. 
 The daintiest smiling, the most conquering grace. 
 
 And sweetest breath that e'er perfumed the air ; 
 
 Those cherry lips,' whose kiss might well repair 
 
 A dead man's state; that speech which'' did displace 
 AH mean desires, and all aiFections base. 
 
 Clogging swift hope, and winging dead despair; 
 
 That snow-white breast, and all those faultless fefi- 
 tures. 
 Which made her seem a personage divine. 
 
 And far excelling fairest human creatures. 
 Hath absence banish'd from my cursed eyne. 
 
 But in my heart, as in a mirror clear. 
 
 All these perfections to my thoughts appear. 
 
 i The cliLTiist lijis edit. l(iO-2. 
 
 ^ Omitted edit. 1010 ami 1021.
 
 110 POETICAL RHAl'SODY. 
 
 UPON PRESENTING HER WITH THE SPEECH OP 
 GRAY's-INN mask, AT THE COURT, 1595, 
 
 Consisting of Three Parts — The Story^of Proteus' Transforma- 
 tions, The Wonders of the Adamantine Rock, and a Speech 
 to Her Majesty. ' 
 
 Who in these lines may better claim a part. 
 That sing the praises of the maiden Queen, 
 Than you, fair sweet, that only sovereign been 
 Of the poor kingdom of my faithful heart ? 
 
 Or to ^^'hose view should I this speech impart. 
 Where th' adamantine rock's great power is shown ; 
 But to your conq'ring eyes, whose force once known. 
 Makes even iron hearts loath thence to part ? 
 
 Or who of Proteus' sundry transformations. 
 May better send you the new- feigned story. 
 Than I, whose love unfeign'd felt no mutations. 
 Since to be yours I first received the glory? 
 Accept, then, of these lines, though meanly penn'd. 
 So fit for you to take, and me to send. 
 
 I Some observations on this Masque, and of the part taken in 
 it by Francis Davison, will be found in the Memoir of hiui in 
 this volume. That portion of it which is considered to have 
 been written by Davison is inserted in a subsequent page.
 
 ELEGY. 
 
 HE RENOUNCETII HIS FOOD, AND FORMER DELIGHT 
 IN MUSIC, POESY, AND PAINTING. 
 
 Sitting at board sometimes, prepared to eat. 
 If 't hap my mind on these my woes to think. 
 
 Sighs fill my mouth instead of pleasant meat. 
 And tears do moist my lips in lieu of drink : 
 
 But yet, nor sighs, nor tears, that run amain. 
 
 Can either starve my thoughts, or quench my pain. 
 
 Another time with careful thought o'erta'en, 
 
 I thought these thoughts with music's might to chase : 
 
 But as I 'gan to set my notes in frame, 
 A sudden passion did my song displace : 
 
 Instead of rests, sighs from my heart did rise; 
 
 Instead of notes, deep sobs and mournful cries. 
 
 Then, Avhen I saw, that these my thoughts increas'd. 
 And that my thoughts unto my woes gave fire, 
 
 I hop'd both thoughts and woes might be releas'd. 
 If to the Muses I did me retire ; 
 
 Whose sweet delights were wont to ease my woe: 
 
 But now, alas ! they could do nothing so.
 
 112 
 
 I'OETICAL RHAPSODY^. 
 
 For trying oft, alas! yet still in vain. 
 To make some pleasant numbers to arise, 
 
 And beating oft my dullen'" weary brain. 
 In hope some sweet conceit for to devise : 
 
 Out of my mouth no words but groans would come ; 
 
 Out of my pea no ink but tears would run. 
 
 Of all my old delights yet one was left ; 
 
 Painting alone to ease my mind remain'd ; 
 By which, when as I look'd to be bereft 
 
 Of these lieart- vexing woes that still me strain'd, 
 From forth mine eyes the blood for colours came. 
 And tears withal to temper so the same. 
 
 Adieu, my food ! that wont'st my taste to please. 
 Adieu, my songs ! that bred mine ears' delight ; 
 
 Adieu, sweet Muse ! that oft my mind didst ease ; 
 Painting, adieu ! that oft refresh'd my sight ; 
 
 Since neither taste, nor ears, nor sight, nor mind, 
 
 In your delights can aught, save sorrow, find. 
 
 "» DuDed edit. 1608. The proper reading appears to lie, 
 
 " And beating oft ray dull and weary brain."
 
 SONNET. 
 
 TO PITY. 
 
 Wake, Pity, wake ! for thou hast slept too long 
 Within the tig'rish heart of that fierce fair. 
 Who ruins most where most she should repair. 
 
 And where she owes most right, doth greatest wrong. 
 
 Wake, Pity, wake ! Oh do no more prolong 
 Thy needful help, but quickly hear my prayer ; 
 Quickly, alas ! for otherwise despair. 
 
 By guilty death, will end my guiltless wrong. 
 
 Sweet Pity, wake, and tell my cruel sweet, 
 That if my death her honour might increase, 
 I would lay down my life at her proud feet, 
 
 And willing die, and dying, liold my peace. 
 
 And only live, and living, mercy cry. 
 
 Because her glory in my death will die." 
 
 " This sonnet, in the first edition, concludes thus : 
 •' Tell her I live, and living, cry for grace. 
 Because my death her glory would deface."
 
 114 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 ODE. 
 
 THAT ONLY HER BEAUTY AND VOICE PLEASE HIM. 
 
 I. 
 
 Passion may my judgment blear. 
 Therefore sure I will not swear 
 
 That others are not pleasing : 
 But, I speak it to my pain. 
 And my life shall it maintain. 
 
 None else yields my heart easing. 
 
 II. 
 Ladies I do think there be 
 Other-some as fair as she. 
 
 Though none have fairer features; 
 But my turtle-like affection. 
 Since of her I made election. 
 
 Scorns other fairest creatures. 
 
 III. 
 Surely I will not deny 
 But some others reach as high 
 
 With their sweet warbling voices : 
 But since her notes charmed mine ear. 
 Even the sweetest tunes I hear. 
 
 To me seem rude harsh noises.
 
 MADRIGALS. 
 
 TO CUPID. 
 
 Love, if a God thou art, 
 
 Then evermore thou must 
 
 Be merciful and just. 
 If thou be just, oh wherefore doth thy dart 
 Wound mine alone, and not my Lady's heart ? 
 
 If merciful, then why 
 
 Am I to pain reserv'd. 
 
 Who have thee truly serv'd ; 
 While she that by thy power sets not a fly. 
 Laughs thee to scorn, and lives' at" liberty ? 
 
 Then, if a God thou wilt^ accounted be. 
 Heal me like her, or else wound her like nie. 
 
 o In liberty — edit. 1C02, p Wouldst cdil. 1G02. 
 
 I 2
 
 116 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 UPON HIS mistress' SICKNESS, AND HIS OWN 
 HEALTH. 
 
 In health and ease am I ; 
 Yet, as I senseless were, it nought contents me. 
 
 You sick in pain do lie ; 
 And, ah, your pain exceedingly torments me. 
 Whereof I can this only reason give. 
 That dead unto myself, in you I live.'' 
 
 HE BEGS A KISS. 
 
 Sorrow slowly killeth any, 
 Sudden joy soon murders many;"" 
 Then, sweet, if you would end me, 
 
 'Tis a fond course with ling'ring grief to spend me. 
 For, quickly to dispatch me. 
 
 Your only way is, in your arms to catch me. 
 And give me dove-like kisses •/ 
 
 For such excessive and unlook'd-for blisses. 
 Will so much over-joy me. 
 As they will straight destroy me, 
 
 1 In the first edition the concluding lines are, 
 " Whereof this only is the reason true, 
 That dead unto myself I live in you." 
 
 r " Sorrow seldom killeth any, 
 
 Sudden joy hath murder'd many." — edit. 1602. 
 
 '■' And give me a sweet kiss — ibid.
 
 MADRIGALS. 117 
 
 UPON A KISS RECEIVED.* 
 
 Since I your cherry lips did kiss. 
 Where nectar and ambrosia is^, 
 My hungry maw no meat requires ; 
 My thirsty throat no drink desires. 
 For by your breath which then I gained, 
 Camelion-like, my life's maintained. 
 
 O grant me then those cherries still," 
 
 And let me feed on them my fill. 
 
 If by a surfeit death I get. 
 
 Upon my tomb let this be set : 
 
 By cherries twain his life he cherish'd. 
 
 By cherries twain at length he perish'd." 
 
 ' This Madrigal begins thus in the first Edition : 
 " Since your sweet cherrj- lip I kiss, 
 No want of food I once have mist ; 
 My stomach now no meat requires, 
 My throat no drink at all requires." 
 
 " Then grant me, dear, those cherries still, 
 
 O let me feed &c. 
 X The last lines are materially different in the first edition,. 
 " Here lieth he whom cherries two 
 
 Made both to live, and love forego."
 
 118 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 ODE.^ 
 
 UPON HER PROTESTATION OF KIND AFFECTION, 
 HAVING TRIED HIS SINCERE FIDELITY. 
 
 Lady, you are with beauties so enriched 
 
 Of body and of mind, 
 
 As I can hardly find, 
 Which of them all hath most my heart bewitched. 
 
 "• \ 
 
 Whether your skin so white, so smooth, so tender. 
 
 Or face well form'd and fair. 
 
 Or heart-ensnaring hair,' 
 Or dainty hand, or leg and foot so slender. 
 
 III.' 
 Or whether your sharp wit and lively spirit. 
 
 Where pride can find no place : 
 
 Or your enchanting grace,* 
 Or speech, which doth true eloquence inherit. 
 
 y The title in the first edition is, " Upon her protesting that 
 now having tried his sincere affection, she loved him." 
 z Or face so lovely fair, 
 
 Long heart binding )xa.\T.—edit. 1 602. 
 *» Or your most pleasing grace. — ibid.
 
 ODE. 119 
 
 IV. 
 
 Most lovely aU, and each of them do move me. 
 
 More than words can express ; 
 
 But yet I must confess, 
 I love you most, because you please to love me. 
 
 HIS RESTLESS ESTATE. 
 
 Your presence breeds my anguish. 
 
 Your absence makes me languish : 
 
 Your sight with woe doth {ill me; 
 
 And want of your sweet sight, alas, doth kiU me. 
 
 If those dear eyes that burn me. 
 
 With mild aspect you turn me. 
 
 For life my weak heart panteth; 
 
 If frowninglv, my sp'rit and life blood fainteth. 
 
 If you speak kindly to me, 
 
 Alas ! kind words undo me : 
 
 Yet silence doth dislike me, 
 
 And one unkind ill word, stark dead would strike me. 
 
 Thus, sun nor shade doth ease me; 
 Nor speech, nor silence please me : 
 Favours and frowns annoy me; 
 Both want and plenty equally destroy me.
 
 120 POETICAL RHAl'SODV. 
 
 ELEGY. 
 
 LETTERS IN VERSE. 
 
 My dearest Sweet, if these sad lines do hap 
 The raging fury of the sea to 'scape. 
 Oh be not you more cruel than the seas, 
 Let pity now your angry mind appease ; 
 So that your hand may be their blessed port. 
 From whence they may unto your eyes resort ; 
 And at that throne pleading my wretched case. 
 May move your cruel heart to yield me grace. 
 So may no clouds of elder years obscure 
 Your sun-like eyes, but still as bright endure. 
 As then they shone when with one piercing ray 
 They made my self their slave, my heart their prey; 
 So may no sickness nip those flowers sweet. 
 Which ever flowering on your cheeks do meet : 
 Nor all defacing time have power to 'rase. 
 The goodly building of that heavenly face. 
 
 II. 
 Fountain of bliss, yet well-spring of my woe. 
 Oh would I might not justly term you so ! 
 Alas, your cruel dealing, and my fate. 
 Have now reduc'd me to that wretched state.
 
 ELEGY. 121 
 
 That I know not how I my style may frame 
 
 To thanks, or grudging ; or, to praise, or blame : 
 
 And where to write I all my po\^ers do bend. 
 
 There wot I not how to besin or end. 
 
 And now my drizzling tears trill down apace. 
 
 As if the latter would the former chase. 
 
 Whereof some few on my pale cheeks remain. 
 
 Like wither 'd flowers, bedew-'d with drops of rain : 
 
 The other falling in my paper sink. 
 
 Or dropping in my pen increase my ink. 
 
 Which sudden passion's cause if you would find. 
 
 A trembling fear doth now possess my mind, 
 
 That you will not vouchsafe these lines to read. 
 
 Lest they some pity in your heart may breed : 
 
 But, or with angry frowns refuse to take them. 
 
 Or taking them the fire's fuel make them : 
 
 Or, with those hands, made to a milder end. 
 
 These guiltless leaves all into pieces rend. 
 
 O cruel Tyrant ! yet beloved still, 
 
 "VMierein have I deserv'd of you so ill. 
 
 That all my love you should with hate requite, 
 
 And all my pains reward with such despite ? 
 
 Or if my fault be great, which I protest 
 
 Is only love, too great to be exprest. 
 
 What, have these lines so harmless, innocent, 
 
 Deserv'd to feel their master's punishment ? 
 
 Tliese leaves are not unto my fault consenting. 
 
 And therefore ought not to have the same tormenting.
 
 12^ POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 When you have read them, use them as you list. 
 For by your sight they shall be fully blest : 
 But till you read them, let the woes I have. 
 This harmless paper from your fury save. 
 
 III. 
 
 Clear up, mine eyes, and dry yourselves, my tears. 
 
 And thou, my heart, banish these deadly fears : 
 
 Persuade thyself, that though her heart disdain 
 
 Either to love thy love, or rue thy pain. 
 
 Yet her fair eyes will not a look deny 
 
 To this sad story of thy misery. 
 
 Oh then, my dear, behold the portraiture 
 
 Of him that doth all kind of woes endure ; 
 
 Of him whose head is made a hive of woes. 
 
 Whose swarming number daily greater grows ; 
 
 Of him whose senses like a rack are bent. 
 
 With diverse motions my poor soul to rent ; 
 
 Whose mind a mirror is, which only shews 
 
 The ugly image of my present woes : 
 
 Whose memory's a poison'd knife to tear 
 
 The ever bleeding woimd my breast doth bear; 
 
 The ever bleeding wound not to be cured. 
 
 But by those eyes that first the same procured. 
 
 And that poor heart, so faithful, constant, true. 
 
 That only loves, and serves, and honours you. 
 
 Is like a feeble ship, which, torn and rent. 
 
 The mast of hope being broke, and tackling spent ;
 
 ELEGY. 123 
 
 Reason, the pilot;, dead, the stars obscured. 
 
 By which alone to sail it was enured ; 
 
 No port, no land, no comfort once expected. 
 
 All hope of safety utterly neglected ; 
 
 With dreadful terror tumbling up and down 
 
 Passion's uncertain waves with hideous sound. 
 
 Doth daily, hourly, minutely expect, 
 
 When either it should run, and so be wreck'd. 
 
 Upon Despair's sharp rock, or be o'erthrown 
 
 With storm of your disdain so fiercely blown. 
 
 IV. 
 
 But yet of all the woes that do torment me. 
 Of all the torments that do daily rent me,"* 
 There's none so great, although I am assured 
 That even the least cannot be long endured. 
 As that so many weeks, nay months and years. 
 Nay tedious ages, for it so appears. 
 My trembling heart, besides so many anguishes, 
 'Tvvixt hope and fear uncertain, hourly languishes : 
 Whether your hands, your eyes, your heart of stone. 
 Did take my lines, and read them, and bemoan 
 With one kind word, one sigh, one pitying tear, 
 Th' unfeigned grief which you do make me bear,*^ 
 
 b But yet of all the woes that do torment my heart, 
 
 Of all the torments that do daily rent my lieart — edit. 1602. 
 ' Th' unfeigned grief which for your love I bear — ibid.
 
 124 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 Whether y' accepted that last monument 
 
 Of my dear love, the book I mean^ I sent 
 
 To your dear self, when the respectless wind 
 
 Bore me away, leaving my heart behind. 
 
 And deign, sometimes, when you the same do view. 
 
 To think on him who always thinks on you : 
 
 Or whether you, as oh, I fear you do. 
 
 Hate both my self, and gifts, and letters too. 
 
 I must confess. Unkind, when I consider,"^ 
 How ill, alas, how ill agree together. 
 So peerless beauty to so fierce a mind. 
 So hard an inside to so fair a rind, 
 A heart so bloody to so white a breast, 
 So proud disdain with so mild looks supprest ; 
 And how, my dear, oh, would it had been never. 
 Accursed word ! nay would it might be ever : 
 How once, I say, till our heart was estranged, 
 Alas, how soon my day to night was changed ! 
 You did vouchsafe my poor eyes so much grace. 
 Freely to view the riches of your face. 
 And did so high exalt my lowly heart. 
 To call it yours, and take it in good part. 
 And, which was greatest bliss, did not disdain, 
 For boundless love to yield some love again. 
 
 'I I must confess (unkind) when I do consider — edit. 1602.
 
 K 
 
 ELEGY. 12d 
 
 When this, I say, I call unto my mind. 
 
 And in my heart and soul no cause can find. 
 
 No fact, no word, Avhereby my heart doth merit. 
 
 To lose*^ that love, which once I did inherit. 
 
 Despair itself cannot make me despair 
 
 But that you '11 prove as kind as you are fair. 
 
 And that my lines, and book. Oh would 't were true, 
 
 Are, though I know't not yet^ received by you ; 
 
 And often have your cruelty repented. 
 
 Whereby my guiltless heart is thus tormented. 
 
 And now at length, in lieu of passed woe. 
 
 Will pity, kindness, love and favour shew/ 
 
 VI. 
 
 But when again my cursed memory, 
 
 To my sad thoughts confounded diversly. 
 
 Presents the time, the tear-procuring time. 
 
 That wither'd my young joys before their prime : 
 
 The time when I with tedious absence tired, 
 
 With restless love and rack'd desire inspired. 
 
 Coming to find my earthly Paradise, 
 
 To glass my sight in your two heavenly eyes, 
 
 On which alone my earthly joys depended. 
 
 And wanting which, my joy and life were ended, 
 
 e To love that love, in the second, third, and fourth editions, 
 but it is evidently a misprint. In the first edition it stands, 
 So fact, no word, whereby my heart hath merited, 
 Of your sweet love to be thus disinherited.— «rft<. 1602. 
 
 f Will pity, grace, and love, and favour shew. — iOid. 1602.
 
 126 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 From your sweet rosy lips, the springs of bliss. 
 To draw the nectar of a sweetest kiss : 
 My greedy ears on your sweet words to feed. 
 Which candied in your sugar'd breath proceed 
 In daintiest accents through that coriil door. 
 Guarded with precious pearl and rubies' store : 
 To touch your hand so white, so moist, so soft. 
 And with a ravish'd kiss redoubled oft. 
 Revenge with kindest spite the bloody theft. 
 Whereby it closely me my heart bereft : 
 And of all bliss to taste the consummation. 
 In your sweet, graceful, heavenly conversation. 
 By whose sweet charms the souls you do enchant 
 Of all that do your lovely presence haunt : 
 Instead of all these joys I did expect. 
 Found nought but frowns, unkindness and neglect. 
 Neglect, unkindness, frowns ? nay, plain contempt, 
 And open hate, from no disdain exempt; 
 No bitter words, side-looks,= nor aught that might 
 Engrieve, encrease so undeserv'd despite. 
 When this, I say, I think, and think withal 
 How, nor those show'rs of tears mine eyes let fall. 
 Nor wind of blust'ring sighs with all their force, 
 Could move your rocky heart once to remorse ; 
 Can I expect that letter should find grace. 
 Or pity ever in your heart have place ? 
 
 ? Besides looks.— crft^ 1621.
 
 ELEGY. 1S7 
 
 No no, I think, and sad despair says for me. 
 You hate, disdain, and utterly ablior me. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Alas, my Dear, if this you do devise. 
 To try the virtue, of your murdering eyes. 
 And in the glass of bleeding hearts, to view 
 The glorious splendour of your beauty's hue. 
 Ah, try it on rebellious hearts, and sprites'" 
 That do withstand the power of sacred lights. 
 And make them feel, if any such be found. 
 How deep and cureless your eyes can wound. 
 But spare, oh spare my yielding heart, and save 
 Him whose chief glory is to be your slave : 
 Make me the matter of your clemency. 
 And not the subject of your tyranny. 
 
 •' 111 tlie second, third, and fourth editions, this line is printed 
 " Ah try it on rebellious hearts and eyes" 
 but as this ill agrees with the sense and not at aU with the 
 rhjTne, Sir Egerton Brydges has, with his usual ingenuity, sug- 
 gested that the concluding word of the next line " lights" was 
 a misprint for " sighs ;" and though this correction would im- 
 prove the passage, still the idea of trying the eflFect of beauty's 
 resplendent hue on 
 
 rebellious hearts and eyes 
 That do withstand the power of sacred sighs, 
 approached too nearly to nonsense, for it to lia\e been the poet's 
 meaning. The first edition of the Rhapsody, which was not dis- 
 covered when the Lee Priory Edition was printed, but from which 
 the text was corrected, has, however, perfectly explained the lines 
 in question, and, as it now stands, the simile is highly beautiful.
 
 128 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 ODE. 
 
 BEING BY HIS ABSENCE IN ITAI<Y DEPRIVED OF HER 
 
 LOOKS, WORDS, AND GESTURES, HE DESIRETH 
 
 HER TO WRITE UNTO HIM.* 
 
 I. 
 
 My only star. 
 Why, why are your dear eyes. 
 Where all my life's peace lies,'' 
 
 With me at war ? 
 Why to my ruin tending. 
 
 Do they still lighten woe. 
 On him that loves you so. 
 That all his thoughts in you have birth and ending.? 
 
 II. 
 
 Hope of my heart. 
 Oh wherefore do the words. 
 Which your sweet tongue affords. 
 
 No hope impart .-* 
 
 i In the first Edition the title of this Ode is " Being deprived 
 of her sweet looks, words and gestures, by his absence in Italy, he 
 desires her to write unto him." It is stated in the Memoir of 
 Francis Davison, in this volume, that he was in Italy in 1596, at 
 which time this Ode was probably written. 
 
 ^ This line is omitted in the fourth edition, but probably by 
 accident.
 
 ODE. 129 
 
 But cruel without measure. 
 To my eternal pain. 
 Still thunder forth disdain 
 On him whose life depends upon your pleasure. 
 
 III. 
 
 Sunshine of joy. 
 Why do your gestures, which 
 All eyes and hearts bewitch, 
 My bliss destroy ? 
 And pity's sky o'erclouding. 
 
 Of hate an endless show'r 
 On that poor heart still pour, 
 Which in your bosom seeks his only shrouding ? 
 
 IV. 
 
 Balm of my wound,' 
 Why are your lines, whose sight 
 Should cure me with delight. 
 
 My poison found ? 
 Which through my veins dispersing. 
 
 Make my poor heart and mind," 
 And all my senses, find 
 A living death, in torments past rehearsinfT, 
 
 ' Blame of my wound, in each of the former editions, but it 
 is presumed to have been a misprint. 
 
 ■" Doth make my heart and mind edit. 1602. 
 
 K
 
 130 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 Alas ! my fate 
 Hath of your eyes depriv'd me. 
 Which both kill'd and reviv'd me. 
 
 And sweeten'd hate ; 
 Your sweet voice, and sweet graces. 
 Which cloth'd in lovely weeds 
 Your cruel words and deeds. 
 Are intercepted by far distant places. 
 
 VI. 
 
 But, oh ! the anguish 
 Which presence still presented. 
 Absence hath not absented. 
 
 Nor made to languish ; 
 No, no, t' increase my paining, 
 
 The cause being, ah ! removed. 
 For which th' effect I loved, 
 Th' effect is still in greatest force remaining. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Oh ! cruel tiger. 
 If to your hard heart's centre 
 Tears, vows, and prayers may enter, 
 
 Desist your rigour ; 
 And let kind lines assure me. 
 
 Since to my deadly wound 
 No salve else can be found. 
 That you that kill me, yet at length will cure me.
 
 MADRIGAL. 
 
 ALLUSION TO THE CONFUSION OF BABEL. 
 
 The wretched life I live. 
 
 In my weak senses such confusion maketh. 
 That, like the accursed rabble 
 That built the tower of Babel, 
 My wit mistaketh. 
 And unto nothing a right name doth give. 
 
 I term her my dear love, that deadly hates me ; 
 
 My chiefest good, her that 's my chiefest evil ; 
 
 Her saint and goddess, who 's a witch, a devil ; 
 Her my sole hope, that with despair amates" me ; 
 
 My balm I call her, that with poison fills me ; 
 
 And her I term my life, that daily kills me. 
 
 " Daunts, disheartens. — Nares. 
 
 K 2
 
 132 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 UPON HER ACKNOWLEDGING HIS DESERT, YET 
 REJECTING HIS AFFECTION. 
 
 If love conjoin'd with worth and great desert. 
 Merit like love in every noble mind. 
 Why then do I you still so cruel find. 
 To whom you do such praise of worth impart ? 
 
 And if, my dear, you speak not from your heart. 
 Two heinous wrongs you do together bind. 
 To seek with glozing words mine eyes to blind. 
 And yet with hateful deeds my love to thwart. 
 
 To want what one deserves, engrieves his pain. 
 Because it takes away all self-accusing; 
 And under kindest words to mask" disdain. 
 Is to a vexed soul too much abusing. 
 
 Then if 't be false, such glozing words refrain; 
 
 If true, oh ! then let worth his due obtain. 
 
 HER ANSWER IN THE SAME RHYMES. 
 
 If your fond love want worth and great desert. 
 Then blame yourself that you me cruel find : 
 If worth alone move every noble mind. 
 Why to no worth should I my love impart ? 
 
 " Make, in the third edition, but probably a misprint.
 
 SONNET. 133 
 
 And if the less to grieve your wounded heart , 
 I seek your dazzled eyes with words to blind. 
 To just disfavour I great favour bind. 
 With deeds and not with words your love to thwart. 
 
 The freeing of your mind from self accusing. 
 
 By granting your deserts should ease your pain ; 
 And since love is your fault, 'twere some abusing. 
 With bitter words to envenom just disdain. 
 
 Then if 't be true, all glozing I refrain ; 
 
 If false, why should no wortli worth's due obtain ? 
 
 HIS FAREWELL TO HIS UNKIND AND INCONST.ANT 
 
 MISTRESS. 
 
 Sweet, if you like and love me still. 
 And yield me love for my good will. 
 And do not from your promise start. 
 When your fair hand gave me your heart ; 
 
 If dear to you I be, 
 
 As you are dear to me ; 
 Then your's I am, and will be ever. 
 Nor time nor place my love shall sever ; 
 But faithful still I will persever. 
 
 Like constant marble s^tone. 
 
 Loving but you alone. 
 
 But if you favour more than me. 
 
 Who love thee, dear, and none but thee ;''' 
 
 P Who love thee still and none but thee. — edit. HJ02.
 
 134 POKTICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 If others do the harvest gain, 
 That 's due to me for all my pain ; 
 
 If you delight to range,'' 
 
 And oft to chop and change ; 
 Then get you some new-fangled mate ; 
 My doating love shall turn to hate, 
 Esteeming you, though too, too late^ 
 
 Not worth a pebble stone. 
 
 Loving not me alone. 
 
 A PROSOPOPCEIA, 
 
 WHEREIN HIS HEART SPEAKS TO HIS SECOND 
 lady's BREAST. 
 
 I DARE not in my master's bosom rest. 
 
 That flaming ^tna would to ashes burn me ; 
 
 Nor dare I harbour in his mistress' breast. 
 The frosty climate into ice would turn me ; 
 
 So both from her and him I do retire me. 
 
 Lest th' one should freeze me, and tli' other fire me. 
 
 Wing'd with true love, I fly to this sweet breast. 
 
 Whose snow, I hope, will cool, but t' ice not turn me ; 
 
 Where fire and snow, I trust, so temper'd rest. 
 As gentle heat will warm, and yet not burn me. 
 
 q If that you love to range. — edil, 1602.
 
 ODES. 135 
 
 But oh dear breast ! from thee I '11 ne'er retire me. 
 Whether thou coolj or warm^, or freeze, or fire me. 
 
 UPON HER GIVING HIM BACK THE PAPER WHEREON 
 
 THE FORMER SONG WAS WRITTEN, AS THOUGH 
 
 IT HAD BEEN AN ANSWER THEREUNTO. 
 
 Lady of matchless beauty ; 
 When into your sweet bosom I delivered 
 A paper, ^i-ith wan looks, and hand that quivered 
 'Twixt hope, fear, love, and duty; 
 Thought you it nothing else c'ontain'd 
 But written words in rhyme restrain'd .^ 
 Oh then your thought abused was; 
 My heart close Avrapt therein, into your breast infused 
 was. 
 
 When you that scroll restor'd me 
 With grateful words, kind grace, and smiling merrily. 
 My breast did swell with joy, supposing verily. 
 You, answer did atford me. 
 But finding only that I writ, 
 I hop'd to find my heart in it: 
 
 But you my hope abused had. 
 And poison of despair instead thereof infused had. 
 
 Why, \\hy did you torment me. 
 With giving back my humble rhymes so hatefully ?
 
 136 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 You should have kept both heart and paper gratefully 
 Or both you should have sent me. 
 Hope you my heart thence to remove. 
 By scorning me, my lines, my love ? 
 No, no ; your hope abused is. 
 Too deep to be remov'd, it in your breast infused is. 
 
 Oh, shall I hide or tell it ? 
 Dear, with so spotless, zealous, rirm affection, 
 I love your beauty, virtue, and perfection. 
 As nothing can expel it. 
 Scorn still my rhymes, my love despite. 
 Pull out my heart, yea kill me quite ; 
 Yet will your hate abused be. 
 For in my very soul, your love and looks infused be. 
 
 COMMENDATION OF HER BEAUTY, STATU HE, BEHAVIOUR;, 
 
 AND WIT. 
 
 Some there are as fair to see too; 
 But by art and not by nature ; 
 Some as tall and goodly be too; 
 But want beauty to their stature. 
 
 Some have gracious kind behaviour ; 
 But are foul or simple creatures : 
 Some have wit, but want sweet favour. 
 Or are proud of their good features.
 
 MADRIGALS. 137 
 
 Only you, and you want pity, ^ 
 Are most fair, tall, kind, and witty. 
 
 TO HER HAND, UPON HUR GIVING HIM HER GLOVE- 
 
 Oh hand! of all hands living 
 
 The softest, moistest, whitest : 
 More skill'd tlian Ph(ebus on a lute in running. 
 More than IMinerva with a needle cunning. 
 
 Than IMercury more wily. 
 
 In stealing hearts most slily: 
 Since thou, dear hand, in theft so much delightest. 
 
 Why fall'st thou now a giving? 
 Ay me ! thy gifts are thefts, and with strange art. 
 In giving me thy glove, thou steal' st my heart. 
 
 CUPID rROVED A FENCER. 
 
 Ah, Cupid, I mistook thee : 
 I for an archer, and no fencer took thee. 
 But as a fencer oft feigns blows and thrusts, 
 
 Where he intends no harm,* 
 
 Then turns his baleful arm. 
 And wounds that part which least his foe mistrusts : 
 
 So thou, with fencing art. 
 Feigning to wound mine eyes, hast hit my heart. 
 
 ' Only you in court and city — edit. 1002. 
 
 » Where he doth mean no harm ibid. 
 
 ' And wounds his foe whereas he least mistrusts. — ibid.
 
 1^8 POETICAL lUlAPSODy. 
 
 UPON HER COMMENDING (THOUGH MOST UNDESER- 
 VEDLY) HIS VERSES TO HIS FIRST LOVE. 
 
 Praise you those barren rhymes long since composed, 
 Which my great love, her greater cruelty. 
 My constant faith, her false inconstancy. 
 My -praises" style, her o'er-praised worth disclosed ? 
 
 Oh, if I lov'd a scornful dame so dearly ; 
 If my wild years did yield so firm affection : 
 If her moon-beams, short of your sun's perfection, 
 Taught my hoarse Muse as you say to sing clearly. 
 
 How much, how much should I love and adore you, 
 Divinest creature, if you deign'd to love me ! 
 What beauty, fortune, time should ever move me. 
 In these stay'd years, to like aught else before you ? 
 
 And oh, how should my Muse by you inspired 
 
 Make heaven and earth resound your praise admired ! 
 
 Mij then green heart so brightly did hijiame. 
 
 HE COMPARES HIMSELF TO A CANDLE-FLY. 
 
 Like to the seely fly. 
 To the dear light I fly 
 Of your disdainful eyes. 
 But in a diverse wise : 
 She with the flame doth play 
 By night alone, and I, both night and day. 
 
 " Praiseless in the Lee Priory edition.
 
 MADRIGALS. 139 
 
 She to a candle runs ; 
 I to a lights far brighter than the sun's. 
 
 She near at hand is fired ; 
 I both near hand, and far away retired. 
 She fondly thinks, nor dead, nor hurt to be ; 
 But I my burning and my death foresee. 
 
 ANSWER TO HER QUESTION, WHAT LOVE WAS. 
 
 If I behold your eyes. 
 Love is a paradise : 
 But if I view my heart, 
 'Tis an infernal smart. 
 
 THAT ALL OTHER CREATURES HAVE THEIR ABIDING 
 
 IN HEAVEN, HELL, EARTH, AIR, WATUR OR 
 
 FIRE, BUT HE IN ALL OF THEM. 
 
 In heaven the blessed angels have their being ; 
 In hell are fiends appointed to damnation; 
 To men and beasts earth yields firm habitation; 
 The wing'd musicians in the air are fleeing ; 
 
 With fins the people gliding 
 
 Of water have the enjoying; 
 
 In fire, all else destroying, 
 The salamander finds a strange abiding : 
 But I, poor wretch, since I did first aspire 
 To love your beauty, beauties all excelling, 
 
 Have my strange diverse dwelling, 
 In heaven, hell, earth, water, air, and fire. 
 
 f
 
 140 POETICAL KUAl'SODV. 
 
 Mine ear, wtile you do sing, in heav'n remaineth : 
 My mind in hell, tlirougli hope and fear's contention ; 
 Earth holds my drossy wit and dull invention : 
 Th' ill food of airy sighs my life sustaineth. 
 
 To streams of tears still flowing. 
 
 My weeping eyes are turned : 
 
 My constant heart is burned 
 In quenchless fire within my bosom glowing. 
 Oh fool, no more, no more so high aspire : 
 In heav'n is no beauty more excelling. 
 
 In hell no such pride dwelling. 
 Nor heart so hard in earth, air, water, fire. 
 
 UPON HIS TIMOROUS SILENCE IN HER PRESENCE. 
 
 Are lovers full of fire ? 
 How comes it then my verses are so cold ? 
 And how, when I am nigh her. 
 And fit occasion wills me to be bold. 
 The more I burn, the more I do desire, 
 The less I dare require ? 
 Ah love ! this is thy wond'rous art. 
 To freeze the tongue, and fire the heart. 
 
 UPON HER LONG ABSENCE. 
 
 If this most wretched and infernal anguish. 
 Wherein so long your absence makes me languish, 
 My vital spirits spending. 
 Do not work out my ending ;
 
 MADRIGALS. 141 
 
 Nor yet your long expected safe returning, 
 To heav'nly joy my hellish torments turning, 
 
 With joy so OA'^erfill me. 
 
 As presently it kill me : 
 I will conclude, hows'ever schools deceive a man. 
 No joy, nor sorrow, can of life bereave a man. 
 
 UPON SEEING HIS FACE IN HER EYE- 
 
 Fairest and kindest of all woman-kind: 
 
 Since you did me the undeserved grace 
 
 In your fair eye to shew me my bad face ; 
 
 With loan I'll pay you in the self-same kind : 
 Look in mine eye, and I will shew to you 
 The fairest face that heaven's eye doth view. 
 
 But the small worthless glass of my dim eye 
 Scarce shews the picture of your heav'nly face. 
 Which yet each slightest turn doth straight deface. 
 But could, oil could you once my heart espy. 
 
 Your form at large you there engrav'd should see. 
 Which, nor by time, nor death can rased be.
 
 142 POETICAL RHAPSODY". 
 
 UPON HER HIDING HER FACE FROM HIM. 
 
 Go^ wailing accents go. 
 With my warm tears and scalding tears attended. 
 
 To til' author of my woe. 
 And humbly ask her, why she is offended. 
 
 Say, dear, why hide you so 
 
 From him your blessed eyes. 
 Where he beholds his earthly paradise. 
 
 Since he hides not from you 
 His heart, wherein love's heav'n you may view ? 
 
 UPON HER BEAUTY AND INCONSTANCY. 
 
 Whosoever longs to try 
 
 Both love and jealousy, 
 My fair inconstant lady let him see. 
 And he will soon a jealous lover be. 
 
 Then he by proof shall know, 
 
 As I do to my woe, 
 How they make my poor heart at once to dwell . 
 In fire and frost, in heaven and in hell.
 
 A DIALOGUE, 
 
 BETWEEN A LOVKR's FLAMING HEART, AND HIS 
 
 lady's frozen breast. 
 
 HEART. Shun not, SAveet breast, to see me all of fire. 
 
 breast. Fly not, dear heart, to find me all of snow. 
 
 HEART. Thy snow inflames these flames of my desire. 
 
 BREAST. And I desire. Desire's sweet flames to know. 
 
 heart. Thy snow n' ill hurt me. 
 
 BREAST. Nor thy fire will harm me. 
 
 heart. This cold w\\l cool me, 
 
 BREAST. And this heat will warm me. 
 
 heart. Take this chaste fire to that pure virgin 
 
 snow. 
 BREAST. Being now thus warm'd, I'll ne'er seek other 
 
 fire. 
 HEART. Thou giv'st more bliss than mortal hearts 
 
 may know. 
 BREAST. More bliss I take than angels can desire.
 
 144 popyncAL rhapsody. 
 
 BOTH TOGETHER. 
 
 Let one joy fill us, as one grief did harm us ; " 
 Let one death kill us, as one love doth warm us. 
 
 FOR WHAT CAUSE HE OBTAINS NOT HIS LADY's 
 
 FAVOUR. 
 
 Dear, why hath my long love, and faith unfeigned. 
 At your fair hands no grace at all obtained ? 
 
 Is 't that my pock-hol'd face doth beauty lack ? 
 No: Your sweet sex, sweet beauty praiseth : 
 Ours, wit and valour chiefly raiseth. 
 
 Is't that my muskless clothes are plain and black .'' 
 No : What wise lady loves fine noddies. 
 With poor-clad minds, and rich clad bodies ? 
 
 Is't that no costly gifts mine agents are? 
 No : My true heart, which I present you. 
 Should more than pearl or gold content you. 
 
 Is't that my verses want invention rare ? 
 No : I was never skilful poet, 
 I truly love, and plainly shew it. 
 
 V In the first edition these lines stand thus : 
 " Let one grief harm us, let one joy fill us, 
 
 Let one love warm us, and let one death kill us."
 
 ECEGIES AND MADRIGALS. 145 
 
 Is't that I vaunt, or am effeminate? 
 Oh scornful vices ! I abhor you. 
 Dwell still in court, the place fit for you. 
 
 Is't that you fear my love soon turns to hate ? 
 No : Though disdain'd, 1 can hate never ; 
 But lov'd, where once I love, love ever. 
 
 Is't that your favours jealous eyes suppress? 
 No: only virtue never sleeping, 
 Both your fair mind and body's keeping. 
 
 Is't, that to many more I love profess ? 
 Goddess, you have my heart's oblation ; 
 And no saint else lips invocation. 
 
 No, none of these. The cause I now discover ; 
 No woman loves a faithful worthy lover. 
 
 A QUATRAIN. 
 
 If you reward my love with love again. 
 
 My bliss, my life, my heaven I will deem you ; 
 
 But if you proudly 'quite it with disdain, 
 
 My curse, my death, my hell I must esteem you. * 
 
 ■* My curse, my hell I must esteem you — rdil. 102). 
 
 L
 
 146 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 SONNET 
 
 TO A WORTHY LORD,'' NOW DEAD, UPON PRESENTING 
 HIM, FOR A NEW YEAR's GIFT, WITH 
 
 Cesar's commentaries and Cornelius tacitus. 
 
 Worthily famous lord, whose virtues rare. 
 Set in the gold of never-staiii'd nobility. 
 And noble mind shining in true humility. 
 Make you admir'd of all that virtuous are: 
 
 If, as your sword with envy imitates 
 
 Great Caesar's sword in all his deeds victorious; 
 So your learn'd pen would strive to be glorious. 
 And ^vi'ite your acts perform'd in foreign States ; 
 
 Or if some one, with the deep wit inspired 
 Of matchless Tacitus, would them historify. 
 Then Caesar's works so much we should not glorify. 
 And Tacitus would be much less desired. 
 
 But till yourself, or some such put them forth. 
 
 Accept of these as pictures of your worth. 
 
 X Probably the unfortunate Robert Earl of Essex, who, as is 
 stated in the Memoir, was in some degree the patron of Francis 
 Davison.
 
 TO 
 
 SAMUEL DANIEL/ 
 
 PRINCE OF ENGLISH POETS, 
 UPON HIS THREE SEVERAL, SORTS OF POESY- 
 
 tvaiCAL, IN HIS sonnets; 
 
 TB.AGICAL, IN 110SA5I0ND AND CLEOPATRA; 
 HEROICAL, IN HIS CIVIL WARS. 
 
 Olympia's matchless son, when as he knew 
 
 How many crowns his father's sword had gaiu'd, 
 With smoking sighs, and deep-fetch'd sobs did rue. 
 And his brave cheeks with scalding tears bedew; 
 
 Because that kingdoms now so few remain'd 
 
 By his victorious arms to be obtain'd. 
 
 y Samuel Daniel, who is here emphatically styled " The 
 Prince of English Poets," was the son i>f a music-master, and was 
 bora near Taunton, in Somersetshire, in 15G2. In 1579 he was ad- 
 mitted a commoner of Magdalen Hall, Oxford; but, perhaps from 
 that want of aj)plicati(m which is too oft«n the companion of ge- 
 nius, he left the University without having graduated, and devoted 
 himself to History and the Muses, instead of Logic and Theo- 
 logy. His translation of Paulus Jovius, and a " Discourse on 
 rare Inventions," or, more probably the interest of his brother-in- 
 law, the well known John Florio, obtained him the appointment 
 ■of Gentleman Extraordinary, and afterwards, of Groom of tlie 
 
 J. 2
 
 148 POETICAL RHAPSODY. 
 
 So, learned Daniel, when as thou didst see. 
 
 That Spenser erst so far had spread his fame. 
 That he was monarch deem'd of Poesy, 
 Tlioii didst, I guess, even burn with jealousy. 
 Lest laurel were not left enough to frame 
 A nest sufficient for thine endless name. 
 
 But as that pearl of Greece soon after pass'd 
 In wond'rous conquests his renowned sire. 
 And others all, whose names by Fame are plac'd 
 In highest seat : so hath thy Muse surpass'd 
 Spenser, and all that do with hot desire 
 To the thunder-scorning laurel-crown aspire. 
 
 Chamher, to Queen Anne, consort of James I. His reputation 
 liotli as a Poet and an Historian, was about this time at it& 
 meridian ; and according to Antony Wood, he succeeded Spen- 
 ser as the Poet Laureat. Of his life little is recorded, possibly 
 because it presented few incidents beyond those of ordinary 
 men ; for, with very few exceptions, the lives of scholars afford 
 but scanty materials for biography. It appears that in his latter 
 years he retired near to the place where he was born, and died 
 in October 161!), aged about fifty-seven, at Beckington near 
 Philip's-Norton in Somersetshire. Having been the tutor to 
 Ann, daughter and sole heiress of George Clifford Earl of Cum- 
 berland, she, from a feeling which reflects honour on her character, 
 erected a monument to his memory, on which he is described as 
 '■'• that excellent Poet and Historian." 
 
 Daniel's chief productions are, "The Complaint of Rosamond;" 
 various " Sonnets to Delia;" a tragedy entitled " Cleopatra ;" an 
 historical poem on " The Civil Wars between the Houses of 
 Vork and Lancaster ;" " The Vision of the Twelve God- 
 desses;" &c. His Poetical Works were edited by his brother 
 John Daniel, in 1623.
 
 EPITAPHS, 149 
 
 And as liis empire's linked force was IcHown, 
 When each of those that did his kingdom share, 
 
 The mightiest kings in might did match alone ; 
 
 So of thy skill the greatness thus is shown ; 
 Tliat each of those, great poets deemed are. 
 Who may in no one kind with thee compare. 
 
 One shar'd out Greece, another Asia held. 
 
 And fertile Egypt to a third did fall ; 
 But only Alexander all did wield. 
 So in soft pleasing lyrics some are skill'd. 
 
 In tragic some, some in heroical ; 
 
 But thou alone art matchless in them all. 
 
 NON EQUIDEM INVIDEO, MIROR MAGIS. 
 
 THREE EFITAPHS 
 
 UPON THE DEATH OP A RARE CHILD OP 
 
 SIX YEARS OLD. 
 
 I. 
 
 Wit's perfection, Beauty's wonder, 
 Nature's pride, the Graces' treasure. 
 Virtue's hope, his friends' sole pleasure. 
 
 This small marble stone lies under ; 
 
 Which is often moist with tears. 
 
 For such loss in such young years.
 
 150 POETICAL KHAPSODY. 
 
 II. 
 
 Lovely boy ! thou art not dead, 
 But from earth to heaven fled ; 
 For base earth Avas far unfit 
 For thy beauty, grace, and wit. 
 
 III. 
 
 Thou alive on earth, sweet boy, 
 Hadst an angel's wit and face ; 
 And now dead, thou dost enjoy. 
 In high Heaven, an angel's place. 
 
 AN INSCRIPTION FOIl THE STATUE OF DIDO. 
 
 Oh most unhappy Dido ! 
 
 Unhappy wife, and more unhappy widow ! 
 
 Unhappy in thy mate. 
 
 And in thy lover most unfortunate : 
 
 By treason th' one was reft thee ; 
 
 By treason th' other left thee. 
 
 That left thee means to fly with ; 
 
 This left thee means to die with. 
 
 The former being dead. 
 
 From brother's sword thou fliest : 
 
 The latter being fled. 
 
 On lover's sword thou diest. 
 
 piu meritare, che conseguire. 
 
 Francis Davison. 
 
 jmiYEFSITY OF CALIFOHNIa
 
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