Dodg'd with him, betwixt Cambridge and the Bull.. In the kind office of a chamberlain Show'd him his room where he must lodge that night, Hobson has supp'd, and's newly gone to bed. ANOTHER ON THE SAME. HERE lieth one, who did most truly prove While he might still jog on and keep his trot, Until his revolution was at stay. Time numbers motion, yet (without a crime whips, to furnish the gentlemen at once, without going from college to college to borrow, as they have done since the death of this worthy man: I say, Mr. Hobson kept a stable of forty good cattle, always ready and fit for travelling: but when a man came for a horse, he was led into the stable, where there was great choice; but he obliged him to take the horse which stood next to the stable-door, so that every customer was alike well served, according to his chance, and every horse ridden with the same justice. From whence it became a proverb, when what ought to be your election was forced upon you, to say Hobson's choice. This memorable man stands drawn in fresco at an inn (which he used) in Bishopsgate-street, with a hundred pound bag under his arm, with this inscription upon the said bag: "The fruitful mother of a hundred more." Rest, that gives all men life, gave him his death, Too long vacation hasten'd on his term. But vow, though the cross docters all stood hearers, ers. Ease was his chief disease; and, to judge right, He had been an immortal carrier. ARCADES.* Part of an Entertainment presented to the Countess Dowager of Derby at Harefield, by some noble persons of her family, who appear on the scene in pastoral habit moving toward the seat of state, with this Song. I. SONG. LOOK, Nymphs and Shepherds, look, * This poem is only part of an Entertainment, or Mask. the rest Is that which we from hence descry, To whom our vows and wishes bend: Mark, what radiant state she spreads, Sitting like a goddess bright, Might she the wise Latona be, Who had thought this clime had held probably being of a different nature, or composed by a different hand. This Countess Dowager of Derby to whom it was presented, must have been Alice, daughter of Sir John Spencer of Al thorp, Northamptonshire, and widow of Ferdinando Stanley, the fifth Earl of Derby. And as Harefield is in Middlesex, and, according to Camden, lieth a little to the north of Uxbridge, we may conclude, that Milton made this poem while he resided in that neighbourhood with his father at Horton near Colebrooke. It should seem too, that it was made before the mask at Ludlow, as it is a more imperfect essay. And Frances, the second daughter of this Countess Dowager of Derby, being married to John Earl of Bridgewater, before whom was presented the Mask at Ludlow, we may conceive in some measure how Milton was induced to com pose the one after the other. The alliance between the families naturally and easily accounts for it: and in all probability, the Genius of the wood in this poem, as well as the attendant Spirit in the Mask, was Mr. Henry Lawes, who was the great master of mus sic at that time, and taught most of the young nobility. The leaves should all be black whereon I write, And letters, where my tears have wash'd, a wannish white. VI. See, see the chariot, and those rushing wheels, In pensive trance, and anguish, and ecstatic fit. VII. Mine eye hath found that sad sepulchral rock For sure so well instructed are my tears, VIII. Or should I thence hurried on viewless wing, loud Might think th' infection of my sorrows Had got a race of mourners on some pregnant cloud. This subject the Author finding to be above the years he had, when he wrote it, and nothing satisfied with what was begun, left it unfinished. ON TIME.* FLY, envious Time, till thou run out thy race; Whose speed is but the heavy plummet's pace; So little is our loss, So little is thy gain! For when as each thing bad thou hast entomb'd, Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss With an individual kiss; And Joy shall overtake us as a flood, When every thing that is sincerely good And perfectly divine, With Truth, and Peace, and Love, shall ever shine About the supreme throne Of Him, to whose happy-making sight alone When once our heavenly guided souls shall climb, Then, all this earthly grossness quit, Attir'd with stars, we shall for ever sit, Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee, O Time! UPON THE CIRCUMCISION. YE flaming Powers, and winged warriors bright, *In these poems where no date is prefixed, and no circumstances direct us to ascertain the time when they were composed, we follow the order of Milton's own editions. And before this copy of verses it appears, from the manuscript, that the poet had written, To be set on a clock-case. |