Chapter III: Part 3

This _Abraham Fraunce_, a Versifier, about the same time with _John Higgins_, was one who imitated _Latine_ measure in _English_ Verse, writing a Pastoral, called _the Countess of_ Pembroke's _Ivy-church_, and some other things in Hexameter, some also in Hexameter and Pentameter; He also wrote _the Countess of_ Pembroke's _Emanuel_, containing the Nativity, Passion, Burial, and Resurrection of Christ, together with certain Psalms of _David_, all in _English_ Hexameters. Nor was he altogether singular in this way of writing, for Sir _Philip Sidney_ in the Pastoral Interludes of his _Arcadia_, uses not only these, but all other sorts of _Latine_ measure, in which no wonder he is followed by so few, since they neither become the _English_, nor any other modern Language.

He began also the Translation of _Heliodorus_ his _AEthiopick_ History, in the same kind of Verse, of which, to give the Reader the better divertisement, we shall present you with a tast.

As soon as Sun-beams could once peep out fro the Mountains,
And by the dawn of day had somewhat lightned _Olympus_,
Men, whose lust was law, whose life was still to be lusting,
Whose thriving thieving, convey'd themselves to an hill top,
That stretched forward to the _Heracleotica_ entry
And mouth of _Nylus_; looking thence down to the main sea
For sea-faring men; but seeing none to be sailing,
They knew 'twas bootless to be looking there for a booty:
So that strait fro the sea they cast their eyes to the sea-shore;
Where they saw, that a Ship very strangely without any ship man,
Lay then alone at road, with Cables ty'd to the main-land,
And yet full fraighted, which they, though far, fro the hill-top,
Easily might perceive by the water drawn to the deck-boards, _&c._

His _Ivy-Church_ he dedicated to the _Countess of Pembroke_, in which he much vindicated his manner of writing, as no Verse fitter for it then that; he also dedicated his _Emanuel_ to her, which being but two lines take as followeth:

_Mary_ the best Mother sends her best Babe to a _Mary:
Lord_ to a _Ladies_ sight, and _Christ_ to a _Christian_.

When he died, we cannot find, but suppose it to be about the former part of Queen _Elizabeth's_ Reign.

* * * * *

_WILLIAM WARNER_.

_William Warner_, one of principal esteem in his time, was chiefly famous for his _Albion's England_, which he wrote in the old-fashioned kind of seven-footed Verse, which yet sometimes is in use, though in different manner, that is to say, divided into two: He wrote also several Books in prose, as he himself witnesseth, in his Epistle to the Reader, but (as we said before) his _Albion's England_ was the chiefest, which he deduced from the time of _Noah_, beginning thus:

I tell of things done long ago, of many things in few:
And chiefly of this Clime of ours, the accidents pursue.
Thou high director of the same, assist mine artless Pen,
To write the Jests of _Brutons_ stout, and Arts of _English-men_.

From thence he proceeds to the peopling of the Earth by the Sons of _Noah_, intermixing therein much variety of Matter, not only pleasant, but profitable for the Readers understanding of what was delivered by the ancient Poets, bringing his Matter succinctly to the Siege of _Troy_, and from thence to the coming of _Brute_ into this Island; and so, coming down along the chiefest matters, touched of our _British_ Historians, to the Conquest of _England_ by Duke _William_, and from him the Affairs of the Land to the beginning of Queen _Elizabeth_; where he concludeth thus,

_Elizabeth_ by peace, by war, for majesty, for mild,
Enrich'd, fear'd, honour'd, lov'd, but (loe) unreconcil'd,
The _Muses_ check my saucy Pen, for enterprising her,
In duly praising whom, themselves, even _Arts_ themselves might err.
_Phoebus_ I am, not _Phaeton_, presumptuously to ask
What, shouldst thou give, I could not guide; give not me thy task,
For, as thou art _Apollo_ too, our mighty subjects threats
A _non plus_ to thy double power:
_Vel volo, vel nollem_.

I might add several more of his Verses, to shew the worth of his Pen, but the Book being indifferent common, having received several Impressions, I shall refer the Reader, for his further satisfaction, to the Book itself.

* * * * *

_THOMAS TUSSER_.

_Thomas Tusser_ (a person well known by his Book of Husbandry) was born at _Rinen-hall_ in _Essex_, of an ancient Family, but now extinct; where, when but young, his Father, designing him for a Singing-man, put him to _Wallingford_-School, where how his Misfortunes began in the World, take from his own Pen.

O painful time, for every crime,
What toosed ears, like baited Bears,
What bobbed lips, what yerks, what nips,
What hellish toys?
What Robes so bare, what Colledge-fare?
What Bread how stale, what penny Ale?
Then _Wallingford_, how wer't thou abhorr'd,
Of silly boys?

From thence he was sent to learn Musick at _Pauls_ with one _John Redford_, an excellent Musician; where, having attained some skill in that Art, he was afterwards sent to _Eaton_-School, to learn the _Latine_ Tongue, where, how his Miseries encreas'd, let himself speak.

From _Pauls_ I went, to _Eaton_ sent,
To learn straightways the _Latine_ phrase,
Where fifty three stripes given to me,
At once I had,
For fault but small, or none at all,
It came to pass thus beat I was,
See _Udal_, see, the mercy of thee
To me poor Lad.

Having attained to some perfection in the _Latine_ Tongue, he was sent to _Trinity-Hall_ in _Cambridge_, where he had not continued long, but he was vexed with extream sickness, whereupon he left the University, and betook himself to Court, and lived for a while under the Lord _Paget_, in King _Edward_ the Sixth's days; when, the Lords falling at dissention, he left the Court, and went to _Suffolk_, where he married his first Wife, and took a Farm at _Ratwade_ in that County, where he first devised his Book of Husbandry, but his Wife not having her health there, he removed from thence to _Ipswich_ and soon after buried her.

Not long after he married again to one Mrs. _Amy Moon_, upon whose Name he thus versified:

I chanced soon to find a _Moon_,
Of chearful hue;
Which well and fine me thought did shine,
And never change, a thing most strange,
Yet keep in sight her course aright,
And compass true.

Being thus married he betook himself again to Husbandry, and hired a Farm, called _Diram Cell_, and there he had not lived long, but his Landlord died, and his Executors falling at variance, and now one troubled him, and then another, whereupon he left _Diram_, and went to _Norwich_, turning a Singing-man under Mr. _Salisbury_, the Dean thereof; There he was troubled with a _Dissury_, so that in a 138 Hours he never made a drop of Water. Next he hired a Parsonage at _Fairstead_ in _Essex_, but growing weary of that he returned again to _London_, where he had not lived long, but the Pestilence raging there, he retired to _Cambridge_: Thus did he roul about from place to place, but, like _Sisiphus_ stone, could gather no Moss whithersoever he went: He was successive a Musician, Schoolmaster, Servingman, Husbandman, Grasier, Poet, more skilful in all, than thriving in any Vocation. He traded at large in Oxen, Sheep, Dairies, Grain of all kinds, to no profit. He spread his Bread with all sorts of Butter, yet none would stick thereon. So that he might say with the Poet,

--_Monitis sum minor ipse meis_.

None being better at the _Theory_, or worse at the _Practice_ of Husbandry, and may be fitly match'd with _Thomas Churchyard_, they being mark'd alike in their Poetical parts, living in the same time, and statur'd both alike in their Estates, and that low enough in all reason. He died in _London_, _Anno Dom._ 1580. and was buried at St. _Mildred's_-Church in the _Poultrey_, with this Epitaph:

Here _THOMAS TUSSER_, clad in earth doth lie,
That sometime made the Points of Husbandry:
By him then learn thou may'st, here learn we must,
When all is done, we sleep, and turn to dust:
And yet, through Christ, to Heaven we hope to go,
Who reads his Books, shall find his Faith was so.

* * * * *

_THOMAS STORER_.

_Thomas Storer_ was a great writer of Sonnets, Madrigals, and Pastoral Airs, in the beginning of Q. _Elizabeth's_ Reign, and no doubt was highly esteemed in those days, of which we have an account of some of them in an old Book, called _England's Hellicon_. This kind of writing was of great esteem in those days, and much imitated by _Thomas Watson_, _Bartholomew Yong_, Dr. _Lodge_, and several others. What time he died is to me unknown.

* * * * *

_THOMAS LODGE_.

_Thomas Lodge_, a Doctor of Physick, flourish'd also about the beginning of the Reign of Queen _Elizabeth_; He was also an eminent Writer of Pastoral Songs, Odes, and Madrigals. This following Sonnet is said to be of his composing.

If I must die, O let me chuse my Death:
Suck out my Soul with Kisses, cruel Maid!
In thy Breasts Crystal Balls embalm my Breath,
Dole it all out in sighs when I am laid;
Thy Lips on mine like Cupping-glasses clasp;
Let our Tongues meet, and strive as they would sting:
Crush out my Wind with one straight girting Grasp,
Stabs on my Heart keep time whilst thou dost sing.
Thy Eyes like searing-Irons burn out mine;
In thy fair Tresses stifle me outright:
Like _Circes_, change me to a loathsom Swine,
So I may live for ever in thy sight.
Into Heavens Joys can none profoundly see,
Except that first they meditate on thee.

Contemporary with Dr. _Lodge_, were several others, who all of them wrote in the same strain, as _George Gascoigne_, _Tho. Hudson_, _John Markham_, _Tho. Achely_, _John Weever_, _Chr. Midleton_, _George Turbervile_, _Henry Constable_, Sir _Edward Dyer_, _Charles Fitz Geoffry_. Of these _George Gascoigne_ wrote not only Sonnets, Odes and Madrigals, but also something to the Stage: as his _Supposes_, a Comedy; _Glass of Government_, a Tragi-Comedy; and _Jocasta_, a Tragedy.

But to return to Dr. _Lodge_; we shall only add one Sonnet more, taken out of his _Euphues Golden Legacy_, and so proceed to others.

Of all chaste Birds, the _Phoenix_ doth excel;
Of all strong Beasts, the _Lion_ bears the Bell:
Of all sweet Flowers, the Rose doth sweetest smell;
Of all fair Maids, my _Rosalind_ is fairest.
Of all pure Metals, _Gold_ is only purest;
Of all high Trees, the _Pine_ hath highest Crest;
Of all soft _Sweets_, I like my Mistress best:
Of all chaste Thoughts my Mistress Thoughts are rarest.
Of all proud Birds, the _Eagle_ pleaseth _Jove_,
Of pretty Fowls, kind _Venus_ likes the _Dove_:
Of Trees, _Minerva_ doth the _Olive_ love,
Of all sweet Nymphs, I honour _Rosalinde_,
Of all her Gifts, her _Wisdom_ pleaseth most:
Of all her Graces, _Virtue_ she doth boast;
For all the Gifts, my Life and Joy is lost,
If _Rosalinde_ prove cruel and unkind.

* * * * *

_ROBERT GREENE_.

_Robert Greene_ (that great Friend to the _Printers_ by his many Impressions of numerous Books) was by Birth a Gentleman, and sent to study in the University of _Cambridge_; where he proceeded Master of Art therein. He had in his time sipped of the Fountain of _Hellicon_, but drank deeper Draughts of Sack, that _Helliconian_ Liquor, whereby he beggar'd his Purse to enrich his Fancy; writing much against Viciousness, but too vicious in his Life. He had to his Wife a Virtuous Gentlewoman, whom yet he forsook, and betook himself to a high course of Living; to maintain which, he made his Pen mercenary, making his Name very famous for several Books which he wrote, very much taking in his time, and in indifferent repute amongst the vulgar at this present; of which, those that I have seen, are as followeth) Euphues _his Censure to_ Philautus; Tullies _Love_, _Philomela_, _The Lady_ Fitz-waters _Nightingale_, _A Quip for an upstart Courtier_, _the History of_ Dorastus _and_ Fawnia, Green's _never too late_, first and second Part; Green's _Arcadia_, Green _his Farewell to Folly_, Greene's _Groats-worth of Wit, &c._ He was also an Associate with Dr. _Lodge_ in writing of several Comedies; namely, _The Laws of Nature_; _Lady Alimony_; _Liberality and Prodigality_; and a Masque called _Luminalia_; besides which, he wrote alone the Comedies of _Fryer Bacon_, and _fair Emme_.

But notwithstanding by these his Writings he got much Money, yet was it not sufficient to maintain his Prodigality, but that before his death he fell into extream Poverty, when his Friends, (like Leaves to Trees in the Summer of Prosperity) fell from him in his Winter of Adversity: of which he was very sensible, and heartily repented of his ill passed Life, especially of the wrongs he had done to his Wife; which he declared in a Letter written to her, and found with his Book of _A Groatsworth of Wit_, after his Death, containing these Words;

_The Remembrance of many Wrongs offered Thee and thy unreproved
Vertues, add greater sorrow to my miserable State than I can utter,
or thou conceive; neither is it lessened by consideration of thy
Absence (though Shame would let me hardly behold thy Face)
but exceedingly aggravated, for that I cannot (as I ought) to thy
own self reconcile my self, that thou mightest witness my inward Wo
at this instan Green, _and may grow strait, if he be carefully tended;
otherwise apt enough (I fear me) to follow his Fathers Folly. That
I have offended thee highly, I know; that thou canst forget my
Injuries, I hardly believe; yet I perswade my self, if thou sawest
my wretched estate, thou couldst not but lament it: Nay, certainly
I know thou wouldst. All my wrongs muster themselves about me, and
every Evil at once plagues me: For my Contempt of God, I am
contemned of Men; for my swearing and fors

Thy Repentant Husband

for his Disloyalty,

_Robert Greene_.

In a Comedy called _Green's Tu quoque_, written by _John Cooke_, I find these Verses made upon his Death;

How fast bleak Autumn changeth _Flora_'s Die;
What yesterday was _Greene_, now's sear and dry.

* * * * *

_THOMAS NASH_.

_Thomas Nash_ was also a Gentleman born, and bred up in the University of _Cambridge_; a man of a quick apprehension and Satyrick Pen: One of his first Books he wrote was entituled _Pierce Penniless his Supplication to the Devil_, wherein he had some Reflections upon the Parentage of Dr. _Harvey_, his Father being a Rope-maker of _Saffron-Walden_: This begot high Contests betwixt the Doctor and him, so that it became to be a well known Pen-Combate. Amongst other Books which Mr. _Nash_ wrote against him, one was entituled, _Have with ye to_ Saffron-Walden; and another called _Four Letters confuted_; in which last he concludes with this Sonnet;

Were there no Wars, poor men should have no Peace;
Uncessant Wars with Wasps and Drones I cry:
He that begins oft knows not how to cease;
He hath begun; He follow till I die.
Ile hear no Truce, Wrong gets no Grave in me:
Abuse pell-mell encounter with abuse;
Write he again, Ile write eternally;
Who feeds Revenge, hath found an endless Muse.
If Death ere made his black Dart of a Pen,
My Pen his special Bayly shall become:
Somewhat Ile be reputed of 'mongst men,
By striking of this Dunce or dead or dumb:
Await the World the Tragedy of Wrath,
What next I paint shall tread no common Path.

It seems he had a Poetical Purse as well as a Poetical Brain, being much straightned in the Gifts of Fortune; as he exclaims in his _Pierce Penniless_.

Why is't damnation to despair and die,
When Life is my true happiness disease?
My Soul, my Soul, thy Safety makes me fly
The faulty Means that might my Pain appease.
Divines and dying men may talk of Hell,
But in my Heart her several Torments dwell.

Ah worthless Wit, to train me to this Wo!
Deceitful Arts that nourish _Discontent_,
Ill thrive the Folly that bewitch'd me so!
Vain Thoughts adieu; for now I will repent:
And yet my Wants persuade me to proceed,
Since none takes pity of a Scholar's need.

Forgive me, God, although I curse my Birth,
And ban the Ayr wherein I breath a wretch,
Since Misery hath daunted all my Mirth,
And I am quite undone through Promise breach.
Oh Friends! no Friends, that then ungently frown,
When changing Fortune calls us headlong down.

Without redress complains my careless Verse,
And _Midas_ ears relent not at my mone;
In some far Land will I my griefs rehearse,
'Mongst them that will be mov'd, when I shall grone.
_England_ adieu, the Soil that brought me forth;
Adieu unkind, where Skill is nothing worth.

He wrote moreover a witty Poem, entituled, _The White Herring and the Red_; and two Comedies, the one called _Summer's last Will and Testament_, and _See me and see me not_.

* * * * *

Sir _PHILIP SIDNEY_.

Sir _Philip Sidney_, the glory of the _English_ Nation in his time, and pattern of true Nobility, in whom the Graces and Muses had their domestical habitations, equally addicted both to Arts and Arms, though more fortunate in the one than in the other. Son to Sir _Henry Sidney_, thrice Lord Deputy of _Ireland_, and Sisters Son to _Robert_ Earl of _Leicester_; Bred in _Christ_'s Church in _Oxford_, (_Cambridge_ being nevertheless so happy to have a Colledge of his name) where he so profited in the Arts and Liberal Sciences, that after an incredible proficiency in all the Species of Learning, he left the Academical Life, for that of the Court, invited thither by his Uncle, the Earl of _Leicester_, that great Favourite of Queen _Elizabeth_. Here he so profited, that he became the glorious Star of his Family, a lively Pattern of Vertue, and the lovely Joy of all the learned sort. These his Parts so indeared him to Queen _Elizabeth_, that she sent him upon an Embassy to the Emperor of _Germany_ at _Vienna_, which he discharged to his own Honour, and her Approbation. Yea, his Fame was so renowned throughout all Christendom, that (as it is commonly reported) he was in election for the Kingdom of _Poland_, though the Author of his Life, printed before his _Arcadia_, doth doubt of the truth of it, however it was not above his deserts.

During his abode at the Court, at his spare hours he composed that incomparable Romance, entituled, _The Arcadia_, which he dedicated to his Sister the Countess of _Pembroke_. A Book (saith Dr. _Heylin_) which, besides its excellent Language, rare Contrivances, and delectable Stories, hath in it all the strains of Poesie, comprehendeth the whole art of speaking, and to them who can discern and will observe, affordeth notable Rules of Demeanour, both private and publick; and though some men, sharp-witted only in speaking evil, have depraved the Book, as the occasion that many precious hours are spent no better, they consider not that the ready way to make the minds of Youth grow awry, is to lace them too hard, by denying them just and due liberty. Surely (saith one) the Soul deprived of lawful delights, will, in way of revenge, (to enlarge its self out of prison) invade and attempt unlawful pleasures. Let such be condemned always to eat their meat with no other sawce, but their own appetite, who deprive themselves and others of those sallies into lawful Recreations, whereof no less plenty than variety is afforded in this _Arcadia_.

One writes, that Sir _Philip Sidney_ in the extream agony of his wounds, so terrible the sence of death is, requested the dearest friend he had, to burn his _Arcadia_; what promise his friend returned herein is uncertain; but if he brake his word to be faithful to the publick good, posterity herein hath less cause to censure him for being guilty of such a meritorious offence, wherewith he hath obliged so many ages. Hereupon thus writeth the _British_ Epigramatist.

_Ipse tuam morient sede conjuge teste jubebas,
Arcadium saevis ignibus esse cibum;
Si meruit mortem, quia flammam accendit amoris
Mergi, non uri debuit iste liber.
In Librum quaecunque cadat sententia nulla,
Debuit ingenium morte perire tuum._

In serious thoughts of Death 'twas thy desire
This sportful Book should be condemn'd with Fire:
If so, because it doth intend Love-matters,
It rather should be quench'd or drown'd i' th waters.
However doom'd the Book, the memory
Of thy immortal Wit will never die.

He wrote also besides his _Arcadia_, several other Works; namely, _A Defence of Poesie_, a Book entituled _Astrophel_ and _Stella_, with divers Songs and Sonnets in praise of his Lady, whom he celebrated under that bright Name; whom afterwards he married, that Paragon of Nature, Sir _Francis Walsingham_'s Daughter, who impoverished himself to enrich the State; from whom he expected no more than what was above all Portions, a beautiful Wife, and a virtuous Daughter.

He also translated part of that excellent Treatise of _Philip Morney du Plessis_, of the Truth of Religion; and no doubt had written many other excellent Works, had not the Lamp of his Life been extinguish'd too soon; the manner whereof take as followeth:

His Unkle _Robert Dudley_ Earl of _Leicester_ (a man almost as much hated as his Nephew was loved) was sent over into the _Low-Countries_, with a well appointed Army, and large Commission, to defend the _United Provinces_ against the _Spanish_ Cruelty. Under him went Sir _Philip Sidney_, who had the Command of the cautionary Town of _Flushing_, and Castle of _Ramekius_, a Trust which he so faithfully discharged, that he turned the Envy of the _Dutch_ Townsmen into Affection and Admiration. Not long after, some Service was to be performed nigh _Zutphen_ in _Gueiderland_, where the _English_, through false intelligence, were mistaken in the strength of the Enemy. Sir _Philip_ is employed next to the Chief in that Expedition; which he so discharged, that it is questionable whether his Wisdom, Industry or Valour may challenge to it self the greatest praise of the Action. And now when the triumphant Lawrels were ready to Crown his Brows, the _English_ so near the Victory, that they touched it, ready to lay hold upon it, he was unfortunately shot in the Thigh, which is the Rendez-vouz of Nerves and Sinews, which caused a Feaver, that proved so mortal, that five and twenty days after he died of the same; the Night of whose Death was the Noon of his Age, and the exceeding Loss of Christendom.

His Body was conveyed into _England_, and most honourably interred in the Church of St. _Paul_ in _London_; over which was fixed this Epitaph:

_England_, _Netherland_, the Heavens, and the Arts,
All Souldiers, and the World have made fix parts
Of the Noble _Sidney_; for none will suppose
That a small heap of Stones can _Sidney_ enclose:
_England_ hath his Body, for she it bred;
_Netherland_ his Blood, in her defence shed;
The Heavens his Soul, the Arts his Fame;
All Soldiers the Grief, the World his good Name.

To recite the Commendations given him by several Authors, would of it self require a Volume; to rehearse some few not unpleasing to the Reader. The reverend _Cambden_ writes thus; This is that _Sidney_, whom, as God's will was, he should be therefore born into the world even to shew unto our Age a Sample of ancient Virtues. Doctor _Heylin_ in his _Cosmography_ calleth him, That gallant Gentleman of whom he cannot but make honourable mention. Mr. _Fuller_ in his _Worthies_ thus writes of him, His homebred Abilities perfected by Travel with foreign accomplishments, and a sweet Nature, set a gloss upon both. _Stow_ in his _Annals_, calleth him, a most valiant and towardly Gentleman. _Speed_ in his Chronicle, That worthy Gentleman in whom were compleat all Virtues and Valours that could be expected to reside in man: And Sir _Richard Baker_ gives him this Character, A man of so many excellent parts of Art and Nature, of Valour and Learning, of Wit and Magnanimity, that as he had equalled all those of former Ages, so the future will hardly be able to equal him.

Nor was this Poet forgotten by the Poets; who offered whole Hecatombs of Verses in his praise. Hear first that Kingly Poet, or Poetical King, King _James_ the first, late Monarch of Great _Britain_, who thus writes,

_Armipotens cui jus in fortia pectora_ Mayors,
_Tu Dea quae cerebrum perrumpere digna totantis,
Tuque adeo bijugae proles_ Latonia _rupis
Gloria, decidua cingunt quam collibus artes,
Duc tecum, & querelis_ Sidnaei _funera voce
Plangite; nam vester fuerat_ Sidnaeus _alumnus,
Quid genus, & proavos, & spem, floremque juventae,
Immaturo obituraptum sine retexo?
Heu frustra queror? heu rapuit Mors omnia secum?
Et nihil ex tanto nunc est Heroe superstes,
Praeterquam Decus & Nomen virtute paratum,
Doctaque_ Sidneas _testantia Carmina laudes._

Thus translated by the said King:

Thou mighty _Mars_, the Lord of Soldiers brave,
And thou _Mirnerve_, that dost in wit excel,
And thou _Apollo_, who dost knowledge have
Of every Art that from _Parnassus_ fell,
With all your Sisters that thereon do dwell,
Lament for him who duly serv'd you all:
Whom in you wisely all your Arts did mell,
Bewail (I say) his unexpected fall,
I need not in remembrance for to call
His Race, his Youth, the hope had of him ay,
Since that in him doth cruel Death appall
Both Manhood, Wit and Learning every way:
But yet he doth in bed of Honour rest,
And evermore of him shall live the best.

And in another place thus;

When _Venus_ sad saw _Philip Sidney_ slain,
She wept, supposing _Mars_ that he had been,
From Fingers Rings, and from her Neck the Chain
She pluckt away, as if _Mars_ ne'er again
She meant to please, in that form he was in,
Dead, and yet could a Goddess thus beguile,
What had he done if he had liv'd this while?

These Commendations given him by so learned a Prince, made Mr. _Alexander Nevil_ thus to write;

Harps others Praise, a Scepter his doth sing,
Of Crowned Poet, and of Laureat King.

Divine _Du Bartus_, speaking of the most Learned of the _English_ Nation, reckoneth him as one of the chief, in these words;

And (world mourn'd) _Sidney_, warbling to the _Thames_,
His Swan-like Tunes, so courts her coy proud Streams,
That (all with child with Fame) his Fame they bear
To _Thetis_ Lap, and _Thetis_ every where.

Sir _John Harrington_ in his Epigrams thus;

If that be true the latter Proverb says,
_Laudari a Laudatis_ is most Praise,
_Sidney_, thy Works in Fames Books are enroll'd
By Princes Pens, which have thy Works extoll'd,
Whereby thy Name shall dure to endless days.

Mr. _Owen_, the _Brittish_ Epigrammatist thus sets him forth:

Thou writ'st things worthy reading, and didst do
Things worthy writing too.
Thy Arts thy Valour show,
And by thy Works we do thy Learning know.

I shall conclude all with these excellent Verses made by himself a little before his Death;

It is not I that die, I do but leave an Inn,
Where harbour'd was with me all filthy Sin:
It is not I that die, I do but now begin
Into eternal Joy by Faith to enter in,
Why mourn you then my Parents, Friends and Kin?
Lament you when I lose, not when I win.

* * * * *

Sir _FULK GREVIL_.

Next to Sir _Philip Sidney_, we shall add his great Friend and Associate, Sir _Fulk Grevil_, Lord _Brook_, one very eminent both for Arts and Arms; to which the _genius_ of that time did mightily invite active Spirits. This Noble Person, for the great love he bore to Sir _Philip Sidney_, wrote his Life. He wrote several other Works both in Prose and Verse, some of which were Dramatick, as his Tragedies of _Alaham_, _Mustapha_, and _Marcus Tallius Cicero_, and others, commonly of a Political Subject; amongst which, a Posthume Work, not publish'd till within a few years, being a two-fold Treatise, the first of Monarchy, the second of Religion, in all which is observable a close mysterious and sententious way of Writing, without much regard to Elegancy of Stile, or smoothness of Verse. Another Posthume Book is also fathered upon him; namely, _The Five Years of King_ James, _or the Condition of the State of_ England, _and the Relation it had to other Provinces_, Printed in the Year 1643. But of this last Work many people are doubtful.

Now for his Abilities in the Exercise of Arms, take this instance: At such time when the _French_ Ambassadours came over into _England_, to Negotiate a Marriage between the Duke of _Anjou_, and Queen _Elizabeth_, for their better entertainment, Solemn Justs were proclaimed, where the Earl of _Arundel, Frederick_ Lord _Windsor_, Sir _Philip Sidney_, and he, were chief Challengers against all comers; in which Challenge he behaved himself so gallantly, that he won the reputation of a most valiant Knight.

Thus you see, that though _Ease be the Nurse of Poesie_, the Muses are also Companions to _Mars_, as may be exemplified in the Lives of the Earl of _Surrey_, Sir _Philip Sidney_, and this Sir _Falk Grevil_.

I shall only add a word or two of his death, Which was as sad as lamentable. He kept a discontented servant, who conceiving his deserts, not soon or well enough rewarded, wounded him mortally; and then (to save the Law a labour) killed himself. Verifying therein the observation, _That there is none who never so much despiseth his own life, but yet is master of another mans_.

This ingenious Gentleman, (in whose person shined all true Vertue and high Nobility) as he was a great friend to learning himself, so was he a great favourer of learning in others, witness his liberality to Mr. _Speed_ the Chronologer, when finding his wide Soul was stuffed with too narrow an Occupation, gave it enlargement, as the said Author doth ingeniously confess in his description of _Warwickshire, Whose Merits_ (saith he) _to me-ward, I do acknowledge, in setting this hand free from the daily employments of a Manual Trade, and giving it full liberty thus to express the inclination of my mind, himself being the_ Procurer _of my present Estate_.

He lieth interred in _Warwick_ Church, under a Monument of Black and White Marble, wherein he is styled, _Servant to Queen_ Elizabeth, _Counsellor to King_ James, _and Friend to_ Sir _Philp Sidney_. He died _Anno 16--._ without Issue, save only those of his Brain, which will make his Name to live, when others Issue they may fail them.

* * * * *

Mr. _EDMOND SPENSER_.

This our Famous Poet, Mr. _Edmond Spenser_, was born in the City of _London_, and brought up in _Pembroke-Hall_ in _Cambridge_; where he became a most excellent Scholar, but especially very happy in _English_ Poetry, as his learned, elaborate Works do declare, which whoso shall peruse with a judicious eye, will find to have in them the very height of Poetick fancy, and though some blame his Writings for the many _Chaucerisms_ used by him, yet to the Learned they are known not to be blemishes, but rather beauties to his Book; which, notwithstanding, (saith a learned Writer) had been more salable, if more conformed to our modern language.

His first flight in Poetry, as not thinking himself fully fledged, was in that Book of his, called _The Shepherds Kalendar_, applying an old Name to a new Book; It being of Eclogues fitted to each Month in the Year: of which Work hear what that worthy Knight, Sir _Philip Sidney_ writes, whose judgment in such cases is counted infallible: _The Shepherds Kalendar_ (saith he) _hath much Poetry in his Eclogues, indeed worthy the reading, if I be not deceived; That same framing his Stile to an old rustick Language, I dare not allow, since neither_ Theocritus _in_ Greek, Virgil _in_ Latine, _nor_ Sanazara _in_ Italian _did effect it_. Afterwards he translated the _Gnat_, a little fragment of _Virgil's_ excellency. Then he translated _Bellay_ his Ruins of _Rome_; His most unfortunate Work was that of _Mother Hubbard's Tale_, giving therein offence to one in authority, who afterwards stuck on his skirts. But his main Book, and which indeed I think Envy its self cannot carp at, was his _Fairy Queen_, a Work of such an ingenious composure as will last as long as time endures.

Now as you have heard what esteem Sir _Philip_ _Sidney_ had of his Book, so you shall hear what esteem Mr. _Spenser_ had of Sir _Philip Sidney_, writing thus in his _Ruins of Time_.

Yet will I sing, but who can better sing
Than thou thy self, thine own selfs valiance?
That while thou livedst thou madest the Forests ring,
And Fields resound, and Flocks to leap and dance,
And Shepherds leave their Lambs unto mischance,
To run thy shrill _Arcadian_ Pipe to hear,
O happy were those days, thrice happy were.

In the same his Poem of the _Ruins of Time_, you may see what account he makes of the World, and of the immortal Fame gotten by Poesie.

In vain do earthly Princes then, in vain,
Seek with Pyramids to Heaven aspir'd;
Or huge Collosses, built with costly pain;
Or brazen Pillars never to be fir'd,
Or Shrines, made of the metal most desir'd,
To make their Memories for ever live,
For how can mortal immortality give?
For deeds do die, however nobly done,
And thoughts of men do in themselves decay,
But wise words taught in numbers for to run,
Recorded by the Muses, live for aye;
Ne may with storming showers be wash'd away,
Ne bitter breathing with harmful blast,
Nor age, nor envy, shall them ever wast.

There passeth a story commonly told and believed, that Mr. _Spenser_ presenting his Poems to Queen _Elizabeth_, she highly affected therewith, commanded the Lord _Cecil_, her Treasurer, to give him an Hundred Pound; and when the Treasurer (a good Steward of the Queen's Money) alledged, that Sum was too much for such a matter; then give him, quoth the Queen, _what is reason_; but was so busied, or seemed to be so, about matters of higher concernment, that Mr. _Spenser_ received no reward: whereupon he presented this Petition in a small piece of Paper to the Queen in her progress.

I was promis'd on a time,
To have reason for my rime,
From that time unto this season,
I receiv'd nor rime nor reason.

This tart reflect so wrought upon the Queen, that she gave strict order (not without some check to her Treasurer) for the present payment of the hundred pounds she first intended him.

He afterwards went over into _Ireland_, Secretary to the Lord _Gray_, Lord Deputy thereof; and though that his Office under his Lord was lucrative, yet got he no Estate; _Peculiari Poetis fato semper cum paupertate conflictatus est_, saith the reverend _Cambden_; so that it fared little better with him, (than with _Churchyard_ or _Tusser_ before him) or with _William Xiliander_ the _German_, (a most excellent Linguist, Antiquary, Philosopher, and Mathematician) who was so poor, that (as _Thuanus_ writes) he was thought, _Fami non famae scribere_.

Thriving so bad in that boggy Country, to add to his misery, he was robb'd by the Rebels of that little he had left; whereupon, in great grief, he returns into _England_, and falling into want, which to a noble spirit is most killing, being heartbroken, he died _Anno_ 1598. and was honourably buried at the sole charge of _Robert_, first of that name Earl of _Essex_, on whose Monument is written this Epitaph.

Edmundus Spencer, _Londinensis, Anglicorum Poetarum nostri seculi
fuit Princeps, quod ejus Poemata, faventibus Musis, & victuro genio
conscripta comprobant. Obiit immatura morte, Anno salutis_,
1598. _& prope_ Galfredum Chaucerum _conditur, qui
scoelisissime Poesin Anglicis literis primus illustravit. In quem
haec scripta sunt Epitaphia._

_Hic prope_ Chaucerum _situs est_ Spenserius, _illi
Proximus ingenio, proximus ut tumulo.
Hic prope_ Chaucerum Spensere _poeta poetam
Conderis, & versu! quam tumulo proprior,
Anglica te vivo vixit, plausitque Poesis;
Nunc moritura timet, te moriente, mori_.

These two last lines, for the worthiness of the Poet, are thus translated by Dr. _Fuller_.

Whilest thou didst live, liv'd English Poetry,
Which fears, now thou art dead, that she shall die.

A modern Author writes, that the Lord _Cecil_ owed Mr. _Spenser_ a grudge for some Reflections of his in _Mother Hubbard's Tale_, and therefore when the Queen had order'd him that Money, the Lord Treasurer said, What all this for a Song? And this he is said to have taken so much to heart, that he contracted a deep Melancholy, which soon after brought his life to a period: so apt is an ingenious spirit to resent a slighting even from the greatest persons. And thus much I must needs say of the Merit of so great a Poet, from so great a Monarch, that it is incident to the best of Poets sometimes to flatter some Royal or Noble Patron, never did any do it more to the height, or with greater art and elegance, if the highest of praises attributed to so Heroick a Princess can justly be termed flattery.

* * * * *

Sir _JOHN HARRINGTON_.

Sir _John Harrington_ is supposed to be born in _Somerset-shire_, he having a fair Estate near _Bath_ in that County. His Father, for carrying a Letter to the Lady (afterwards Queen) _Elizabeth_, was kept twelve months in the _Tower_, and made to spend a Thousand Pounds e're he could be free of that trouble. His Mother also being Servant to the Lady _Elizabeth_, was sequestred from her, and her Husband enjoyned not to keep company with her; so that on both sides he may be said to be very indear'd to Queen _Elizabeth_, who was also his Godmother, a further tye of her kindness and respects unto him.

This Sir _John_ was bred up in _Cambridge_, either in _Christ_'s or in St. _John_'s-Colledge, under Dr. _Still_ his Tutor. He afterwards proved one of the most ingenious Poets of our _English_ Nation, no less noted for his Book of witty Epigrams, than his judicious Translation of _Ariosto's Orlando Furioso_, dedicated to the Lady _Elizabeth_, afterwards Queen of _Bohemia_.

The _British_ Epigramatist, Mr. _John Owen_, in his second Book of Epigrams, thus writes to him:

A Poet mean I am, yet of the Troop,
Though thou art not, yet better thou canst do't.

And afterwards in his fourth Book, _Epig._ 20. concerning Envy's Genealogy; he thus complements him.

Fair Vertue, foul-mouth'd Envy breeds, and feeds;
From Vertue only this foul Vice proceeds;
Wonder not that I this to you indite,
'Gainst your rare Vertues, Envy bends her spite.

It happened that whilest the said Sir _John_ repaired often to an Ordinary in _Bath_, a Female attendress at the Table, neglecting other Gentlemen, which sat higher, and were of greater Estates, applied herself wholly to him, accommodating him with all necessaries, and preventing his asking any thing with her officiousness. She being demanded by him, the reason of her so careful waiting on him? _I understand_ (said she) _you are a very witty man, and if I should displease you in any thing, I fear you would make an Epigram of me._

Sir _John_ frequenting often the Lady _Robert_'s House, his Wives Mother, where they used to go to dinner extraordinary late, a Child of his being there then, said _Grace_, which was that of the _Primmer, Thou givest them Meat in due season_; Hold, said Sir _John_ to the Child, you ought not to lie unto God, for here we never have our Meat in due season. This Jest he afterwards turned into an Epigram, directing it to his Wife, and concluding it thus:

Now if your Mother angry be for this,
Then you must reconcile us with a kiss.

A Posthume Book of his came forth, as an addition to Bishop _Godwin's Catalogue of Bishops_, wherein (saith Dr. _Fuller_) besides mistakes, some tart reflections in _Uxaratos Episcopos_, might well have been spared. In a word (saith he) he was a Poet in all things, save in his wealth, leaving a fair Estate to a learned and religious Son, and died about the middle of the Reign of King _James_.

* * * * *

_JOHN HEYWOOD_.

This _John Heywood_ was one of the first writers of _English_ Plays, contemporary with the Authors of _Gammar Gurton's Needle_, and _Tom Tyler and his Wife_, as may appear by the Titles of his Interludes; _viz._ The Play of Love; Play of the Weather; Play between _Johan_ the Husband, and _Tib_ his Wife; Play between the Pardoner and the Fryer, and the Curate and Neighbour _Prat_; Play of Gentleness and Nobility, in two parts. Besides these he wrote two Comedies, the _Pinner of Wakefield_, and _Philotas_ _Scotch_. There was of this Name, in King _Henry_ the Eighth's Reign, an Epigramatist, _who_, saith the Author of the Art of _English_ Poetry, _for the mirth and quickness of his conceits, more than any good learning was in him, came to be well benefited by the King._

* * * * *

_THOMAS HEYWOOD_.

_Thomas Heywood_ was a greater Benefactor to the Stage than his Namesake, _John Heywood_, aforesaid, he having (as you may read in an Epistle to a Play of his, called, _The English Travellers_) had an entire hand, or at least a main finger in the writing of 220 of them. And no doubt but he took great pains therein, for it is said, that he not only Acted himself almost every day, but also wrote each day a Sheet; and that he might lose no time, many of his Plays were composed in the Tavern, on the back-side of Tavern Bills; which may be an occasion that so many of them are lost, for of those 220. mentioned before, we find but 25. of them Printed, _viz. The Brazen Age_; _Challenge for Beauty_; _The_ English _Travellers_; _The first and second part of_ Edward _the Fourth_; _The first and second part of Queen_ Elizabeth's _Troubles_; _Fair Maid of the West, first and second part_; _Fortune by Land and Sea_; _Fair Maid of the Exchange_; _Maidenhead well lost_; _Royal King and Loyal Subject_; _Woman kill'd with kindess_; _Wise Woman of_ Hogsdon, Comedies. _Four_ London _Prentices_; _The Golden Age_; _The Iron Age, first and second part_; Robert _Earl of_ Huntington's _downfal_ Robert _Earl of_ Huntington's _death_; _The Silver Age_; _Dutchess of_ Suffolk, Histories; _And Loves Mistress_, a Mask. And, as if the Name of _Heywood_ were destinated to the Stage, there was also one _Jasper Heywood_, who wrote three Tragedies, namely, _Hercules Furiens_, _Thyestes_, and _Troas_. Also, in my time I knew one _Matthew Heywood_; who wrote a Comedy, called _The Changling_, that should have been acted at _Audley-end_ House, but, by I know not what accident was prevented.

* * * * *

_GEORGE PEEL_.

_George Peel_, a somewhat antiquated _English_ Bard of Queen _Elizabeth_'s date, some remnants of whose pretty pastoral Poetry we have extant in a Collection, entituled, _England's Helicon_. He also contributed to the Stage three Plays, _Edward_ the first, a History; _Alphonsus_, Emperour of _Germany_, a Tragedy; and _David_ and _Bathsabe_ a Tragi-Comedy; which no doubt in the time he wrote passed with good applause.

* * * * *

_JOHN LILLY_.

_John Lilly_, a famous Poet for the State in his time, as by the Works which he left appears, being in great esteem in his time, and acted then with great applause of the Vulgar, as such things which they understood, and composed chiefly to make them merry. Yet so much prized as they were Printed together in one Volume, namely, _Endymion_, _Alexander and Campasoe_, _Galatea_, _Midas_, _Mother Boniby_, _Maids Metamorphosis_, _Sapho and Phao_, _Woman in the Moon_, Comedies; and another Play called _A Warning for fair Women_; all which declare the great pains he took, and the esteem which he had in that Age.

* * * * *

_WILLIAM WAGER_.

This _William Wager_ is most famous for an Interlude which he wrote, called _Tom Tyler and his Wife_, which passed with such general applause that it was reprinted in the year 1661. and has been Acted divers times by private persons; the chief Argument whereof is, _Tyler_ his marrying to a Shrew, which, that you may the better understand, take it in the Author's own words, speaking in the person of _Tom Tyler_.

I am a poor _Tyler_, in simple array,
And get a poor living, but eight pence a day,
My Wife as I get it doth spend it away;
And I cannot help it, she saith; wot ye why?
For wedding and hanging comes by destiny.
I thought when I wed her, she had been a Sheep,
At board to be friendly, to sleep when I sleep:
She loves so unkindly, she makes me to weep.
But I dare say nothing, god wot; wot ye why?
For wedding and hanging comes by destiny.
Besides this unkindness whereof my grief grows,
I think few _Tylers_ are matcht to such shrows,
Before she leaves brawling, she falls to deal blows.
Which early and late doth cause me to cry,
That wedding and hanging is destiny.
The more that I please her, the worse she doth like me,
The more I forbear her, the more she doth strike me,
The more that I get her, the more she doth glike me.
Wo worth this ill fortune that maketh me cry,
That wedding and hanging is deny.
If I had been hanged when I had been married,
My torments had ended, though I had miscarried,
If I had been warned, then would I have tarried;
But now all too lately I feel and cry,
That wedding and hanging is destiny.

He wrote also two Comedies, _The Tryal of Chivalry_, and _The longer thou livest, the more Fool thou art_.

* * * * *

_NICHOLAS BRETON_.

_Nicholas Breton_, a writer of Pastoral Sonnets, Canzons, and Madrigals, in which kind of writing he keeps company with several other contemporary Emulators of _Spencer_ and Sir _Philip Sidney_, in a publish'd Collection of several Odes of the chief Sonneters of that Age. He wrote also several other Books, whereof two I have by me, _Wits Private Wealth_, and another called _The Courtier and the Country-man_, in which last, speaking of _Vertue_, he hath these Verses:

There is a Secret few do know,
And doth in special places grow,
A rich mans praise, a poor mans wealth,
A weak mans strength, a sick mans health,
A Ladies beauty, a Lords bliss,
A matchless Jewel where it is;
And makes, where it is truly seen,
A gracious King, and glorious Queen.

* * * * *

_THOMAS KID, THOMAS WATSON_, &c.

_Thomas Kid_, a writer that seems to have been of pretty good esteem for versifying in former times, being quoted among some of the more fam'd Poets, as _Spencer_, _Drayton_, _Daniel_, _Lodge_ &C. with whom he was either contemporary, or not much later: There is particularly remembred his Tragedy, _Cornelia_.

There also flourish'd about the same time _Thomas Watson_, a contemporary immitater of Sir _Philip Sidney_, as also _Tho. Hudson_, _Joh. Markham_, _Tho. Achelly_, _Joh. Weever_, _Ch. Middleton_, _Geo. Turbervile_, _Hen. Constable_, with some others, especially one _John Lane_, whose Works though much better meriting than many that are in print, yet notwithstanding had the ill fate to be unpublish'd, but they are all still reserved in Manuscript, namely, his _Poetical Vision_, his _Alarm to the Poets_ his _Twelve Months_, his _Guy of Warwick_, a Heroick Poem; and lastly, his Supplement to _Chaucer's Squires Tale_.

* * * * *

Sir _THOMAS OVERBURY_.

Sir _Thomas Overbury_, a Knight and Wit, was Son to Sir _Nicholas Overbury_ of _Burton_ in _Glocester-shire_, one of the Judges of the Marches; who, to his natural propension of ingenuity, had the addition of good Education, being bred up first in _Oxford_, afterwards, for a while a Student of the Law in the _Middle Temple_; soon after he cast Anchor at Court, the Haven of Hope for all aspiring Spirits; afterwards travell'd into _France_, where having been some time, he returned again, and was entertained into the respects of Sir _Rob. Carre_, one who was newly initiated a Favourite to King _James_; where, by his wise carriage, he purchased to himself not only the good affection and respect of Sir _Robert_, but also of divers other eminent persons.

During his abode with Sir _Robert Carre_, he composed that excellent Poem of his, entituled, _A Wife_; which, for the excellency thereof, the Author of the Epistle to the Reader, prefixed before his Book, thus writes, _Had such a Poem been extant among the ancient_ Romans, _altho' they wanted our easie conservation of Wit by Printing, they would have committed it to Brass, lest injurious time might deprive it of due eternity_. Nor was his Poem of _A Wife_ not only done to the life, but also those Characters which he wrote, to this day not out-witted by any.

But to return from the Work to the Workman; Mr. _Overbury_ is by the King knighted, and Sir _Rob. Carre_ made a Viscount, and such a reciprocal Love pass'd betwixt them, that it was questionable, whether the Viscount were more in favour with King _James_, or Sir _Thomas Overbury_ in the favour of the Viscount? But what estate on earth is so firm, that is not changeable, or what friendship is so constant, that is not dissolvable? Who would imagine this Viscount should be instrumental to his death, who had done him so faithful service, and to whom he had embosom'd his most secret thoughts? Yet so it was, for Sir _Thomas_, out of an unfeigned affection which he bare to the Viscount, diswaded him from a motion of a Marriage which was propounded betwixt him and the Lady _Francis Howard_, who was lately divorced from the Earl of _Essex_, as a Match neither for his credit here, nor comfort hereafter. This Counsel, though it proceeded from an unfeigned love in Sir _Thomas_, yet where Beauty commands, all discretion being sequestred, created in the Viscount a hatred towards him; and in the Countess the fury of a woman, a desire of revenge, who perswaded the Viscount, _That it was not possible that ever she should endure those injuries, or hope for any prosperity so long as he lived; That she wondred how he could be so familiar, so much affected to his man_ Overbury; _that without him he could do nothing, as it were making him his right hand, seeing he being newly grown into the Kings favour, and depending wholly upon his greatness, must expect to be clouded if not ruined, when his servant that knew his secrets should come to preferment._ The Viscount, apt enough of his own inclination to revenge, being thus further exasperated by the Countess, they joyntly resolve upon his death, and soon a fit opportunity came to their hands. He being by King _James_ (and as it is thought by the Viscount's Counsel) nominated to be sent Embassador to the Emperor of _Russia_, was by the said Viscount, whom he especially trusted, persuaded to decline the employment, as no better than an _honourable Grave_; Better lie some days in the _Tower_, than more months in a worse Prison; a Ship by Sea, and a barbarous cold Country by Land. _You are now_ (Said he) _in credit at home, and have made tryal of the dangers of travel, why then should you hazard all upon uncertainties, being already in possession of that you can probably expect by these means_; promising him, that within a small time he would so work with the King, that he should have a good of opinion him. But he (saith Dr. _Fuller_) who willingly goes into a Prison out of hope to come easily out of it, may stay therein so long till he be too late convinced of his error.