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OC tibi de nato, ditiffima mater, egeno
Exiguum immenfi pignus amoris habe.
Altringit gratas parcior arca manus.
Tam malè formatam, diffimilemque tuæ ?
Tu speculum poteris hic reperire tuum?
Sic mihi fperanti, perfide, multa redis?
Hunc mihi in infantis fuppofuere loco?
Sit sors, fed non fis, ipsa, noverca mihi.
Si benè dilecto luxuriare solo,
Haurire, ingentem fi fatiare fitim,
Nec legeres nomen fusa rubore meum.
Raptatrix veltro fuftulit è gremio,
Poscentem querulo murmure lactis opem.
Cum gravidum autumnum sæva flagellat hyems,
Et vi vieta cadunt'; arbor & ipsa gemit.
Nondum fol rosco redditur ore pater.
Openitus toto corde receptus amor!
Splendida paupertas, ingenuúsque decor !
o chara ante alias, magnorum nomine
regum Digna domus ! Trini nomine digna Dei! O nimium Cereris cumulati munere campi,
Pofthabitis Ennæ quos colit illa jugis !
Quas recreant avium Pieridúmque chori !
Amnibus auriferis invidiofus inops !
Detque Deus doctâ poffe quiete frui!
Vidilli in ripa, Came ferene, tuâ ;
llle quidem immerito, fed tibi gratus erat. Nam, memini ripâ cum tu dignatus utrâque,
Dignatum eft totum verba referre nemus. Tunc liquidis tacitisque fimul mea vita dicbus,
Et fimilis vestræ candida Auxit aque. At nunc coenosæ luces, atque obic: multo
Rumpitur ætatis turbidus ordo meæ. Quid mihi Sequana opus, Tamefisve aut Thybridis unda?
Tu potis es noftram tollere, Came, fitim. Felix, qui nunquam plus uno viderit amne!
Quique eadem Salicis littora more colit ! Felix, qui non tentatus fordefcere mundus,
Et cui pauperies nota nitere poteft!
Ut res humanas sentiat effe nihil!
Et documentorum fatque fupérque dedit.
Contusaique hominum forte minante minas,
Et versas fundo vidimus orbis opes.
Infami scopulis naufragiifque mari ?
(Nec fruftra) atque ædes contremuêre tuæ : Contremuere ipfæ pacatæ Palladis arces;
Et timuit fulmen laurea fancta novum.
Nec saltem bullis ifta licere, velit !
in nos jus habeat: jus habet omne malum. Tu ilabilis brevium genus immortale nepotum
Fundes; nec tibi mors ipfa fuperftes erit :
Fornofas mittes ad mare mortis aquas.
(Namque folent iplis bella nocere Deis) Imploravit opem superùm, queftúfque cievit,
Tinxit adorandus candida membra cruor. Quid quereris? contemne breves fecura dolores :
Nam tibi ferre necem vulnera nulla valent,
THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE
HIS EDITION IN FOLIO, 1656.
T my return lately into England *, I met by great accident (for such I account house who printed it) a book intituled, “ The Iron Age,” and published under my name, during the time of my abfence. I wondered very much how one who could be so foolish to write so ill verfes, should yet be so wise to set them forth as another man's rather than his own; though perhaps he might have made a better choice, and not fathered the battard upon such a person, whose stock of reputation is, I fear, little enough for maintenance of his own numerous legitimate offspring of that kind. It would have been much less injurious, if it had pleased the author to put forth some of my writings under his own name, rather than his own under mine: he had been in that a more pardonable plagiary, and had done less wrong by robbery, than he does by such a bounty, for nobody can be justified by the impuration even of another's merit; and our own coarse cloaths are like to become us better than those of another man, though never so rich: but these, to say the truth, were so beggarly, that I myself was ashamed to wear them. It was in vain for me, that I avoided cenfure by the concealment of my own writings, if my reputation could be thus executed in chgie; and impotlille it is for any good name to be in safety, if the malice of witches have the power to consume and deltroy it in an image of their own making. This indeed was so ill made, and so unlike, that I hope the charm took no effect. So that I efteem myself less prejuidiced by it, than by that which has been done to me since, almost in the same kind; which is, the publication of some things of mine without my consent or knowledge, and those so mangled and imperfect, that I could neither with honour acknowledge, nor with honeity quite disavow them.
Of which fort, was a comedy called " The Guardian," printed in the year 1650; but made and acted before the Prince, in his paffage through Cambridge towards York, at the beginning of the late unhappy war; or rather neither made nor acted, but roughdrawn only, and repeated; for the halte was so great, that it could neither be revised or perfected by the author, nor learned without book by the actors, nor set forth in any measure tolerably by the officers of the college. After the representation (which, I confefs, was somewhat of the latest) I began to look it over, and changed it very much, Atriking out some whole parts, as that of the poet and the foldier; but I have lost the copy, and dare not think it deserves the pains to write it again, which makes me omit it in this publication, though there be some things in it which I am not ashamed of, taking the excuse of my age and small experience in human conversation when I made it. But, '* it is, it is only the hafty firti-fitting of a picture, and therefore like to resemble mo , cordingly.
From t which has happened to myself, I began to reflect on the fortune of almost all writers, and especially poets, whose works (commonly printed after their deaths) we find Ituff i out, either with counterfeit pieces, like false money put in to fill up
the though it add nothing to the fum ; or with such, which, though of their own coin, they would have called in themselves, for the baseness of the allay: whether this proceed from the indiscretion of their friends, who think a vast heap of stones or rubbish a better monument than a little tomb of marble ; or by the unworthy avarice of some stationers, who are content to diminish the value of the author, so they may increase the price of the book; and, like vintners, with sophisticate mixtures, spoil the whole vessel of wine,
• In 1636. VOL. II.