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And not thy fortune?

Who can clearly see The judgment of the king so shine in thee, And that thou seek'st reward of thy each act, Not from the public voice, but private fact? Who can behold all envy so declined By constant suffering of thy equal mind, And can to these be silent, Salisbury, Without his, thine, and all time's injury? Cursed be his Muse, that could lie dumb, or hid To so true worth, though thou thyself forbid.



Not glad, like those that have new hopes, or suits,
With thy new place, bring I these early fruits
Of love, and, what the golden age did hold
A treasure, art, contemned in th' age of gold;
Nor glad as those, that old dependents be,
To see thy father's rites new laid on thee;
Nor glad for fashion; nor to show a fit
Of flattery to thy titles, nor of wit.
But I am glad to see that time survive,
Where merit is not sepulchred alive;
Where good men's virtues them to honors bring,
And not to dangers; when so wise a king
Contends t' have worth enjoy, from his regard,
As her own conscience, still, the same reward.
These, noblest Cecil, labored in my thought,

87 The Earl of Salisbury was made Lord High Treasurer in 1608.-B.

Wherein what wonder see thy name hath


That whilst I meant but thine to gratulate,
I've sung the greater fortunes of our state.


Away, and leave me, thou thing most abhorred That hast betrayed me to a worthless lord; Made me commit most fierce idolatry

To a great image through thy luxury. Be thy next master's more unlucky Muse, And, as thou'st mine, his hours and youth abuse.

Get him the time's long grudge, the court's illwill,

And, reconciled, keep him suspected still. Make him lose all his friends, and, which is worse, Almost all ways to any better course.

With me thou leav'st a happier muse than thee, And which thou brought'st me, welcome Pov


She shall instruct my afterthoughts to write
Things manly, and not smelling parasite.
But I repent me: stay Whoe'er is raised,
For worth he has not, he is taxed, not praised.


That neither fame nor love might wanting be To greatness, Cary, I sing that and thee;

38 The first Lord Falkland, son of Sir Edward Cary, and

Whose house, if it no other honor had,

In only thee might be both great and glad; Who, to upbraid the sloth of this our time, Durst valor make almost, but not a crime. Which deed I know not, whether were more high, Or thou more happy, it to justify

Against thy fortune; when no foe that day Could conquer thee, but chance who did betray. Love thy great loss, which a renown hath won, To live when Broeck not stands, nor Roor doth

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Love ho ors, which of best example be

When they cost dearest and are done most free, Though every fortitude deserves applause,


may be much or little in the cause.

He's valiant'st, that dares fight, and not for pay; That virtuous is, when the reward's away.


LXVII. TO THOMAS, EARL OF SUFFOLK." Since men have left to do praiseworthy things, Most think all praises flatteries. But truth brings

father of the gallant Lucius, Lord Falkland. Sir Henry Cary was appointed by King James Lord Deputy of Ireland. He died in 1620, in consequence of having broken his leg on a stand at Theobald's. - B.

39 The castle and river near where he was taken. - JONSON. The incident occurred in 1605, when Spinola defeated Count Maurice in an attempt made by the latter to surprise one of his covering parties at the passage of the Roor. — B.

40 He was so created by James I. in 1603, and bore several great offices of state. In the twelfth year of the same king, he

That sound and that authority with her name, As to be raised by her is only fame.

Stand high then, Howard, high in eyes of men, High in thy blood, thy place, but highest then, When, in men's wishes, so thy virtues wrought, As all thy honors were by them first sought; And thou designed to be the same thou art, Before thou wert it, in each good man's heart. Which, by no less confirmed than thy king's choice,

Proves that is God's, which was the people's




Playwright, convict of public wrongs to men,
Takes private beatings and begins again.
Two kinds of valor he doth show at once:
Active in's brain, and passive in his bones.


Cob, thou nor soldier, thief, nor fencer art,
Yet by thy weapon liv'st: thou'st one good part.

was constituted Lord High Treasurer, and it is not improbable but this epigram was addressed to him on his promotion to that high station. - W. The epigram has a much earlier date than Whalley assigns it. It was probably written upon his accession to the title of Suffolk, when he was also appointed Lord Chamberlain. - G.

41 The allusion to "private beatings" identifies Marston as the playwright of this epigram. "He had many quarrels with Marston," says Drummond, "beat him, and took his pistol from him.” — B.


LXX. TO WILLIAM ROE." When nature bids us leave to live, 'tis late Then to begin, my Roe! He makes a state In life, that can employ it; and takes hold On the true causes, ere they grow too old. Delay is bad, doubt worse, depending worst; Each best day of our life escapes us first.43 Then, since we, more than many, these truths know,

Though life be short, let us not make it so.


To pluck down mine, Poll sets up new wits still, Still, 'tis his luck to praise me 'gainst his will.


I grieve not, Courtling, thou art started up
A chamber-critic, and dost dine and sup
At madam's table, where thou mak'st all wit
Go high or low, as thou wilt value it.
'Tis not thy judgment breeds the prejudice,
Thy person only, Courtling, is the vice.


What is't, fine Grand, makes thee my friendship fly

Or take an epigram so fearfully,

42 Probably, as Gifford supposes, one of the brothers of Sir John Roe.


48"Optima quæque dies miseris mortalibus ævi

Prima fugit."

VIRGIL, Georgics, III. 66.

44 Randolph has imitated this Epigram in his Pedlar; a forgotten piece, from which Dodsley took the plot, and something more than the plot, of his Toy-Shop. - G.

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