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The lace, the paint, and warlike things,
If I should tell the politic arts
To take and keep men's hearts; The letters, embaffies, and fpies, The frowns, and smiles, and flatteries, The quarrels, tears, and perjuries
(Numberlefs, nameless, myfteries !):
And all the little lime-twigs laid,
By Machiavel the waiting-maid;
(Chiefly if I like them should tell
But I will briefer with them be,
Since few of them were long with me.
My prefent Emperefs does claim,
Heleonora, firft o' th' name;
Whom God grant long to reign:
TO SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT, Upon his two first Books of GONDIBERT, Finished before his Voyage to America.
WETHINKS heroic poefy till now,
Like some fantastic fairy-land did show; Gods, devils, nymphs, witches, and giants' race, And all but man, in man's chief work had place. Thou, like fome worthy knight with facred arms, Doft drive the monsters thence, and end the charms: Inftead of thofe doft men and manners plant, The things which that rich foil did chiefly want. Yet ev❜n thy Mortals do their Gods excel, Taught by thy Mufe to fight and love fo well.
By fatal hands whilft prefent empires fall,
And from the grave thou mak'st this empire rise,
Rais'd by fuch powerful verse, that ancient Rome
Some men their fancies, like their faith, derive,
Did thy defire to feek new worlds infuse;
AN ANSWER то
A COPY OF VERSES SENT ME TO JERSEY.
S to a northern people (whom the fun
Ufes juft as the Romish church has done
Her prophane laity, and does affign,
Bread only both to serve for bread and wine)
The foil from whence they came tafte, fmell, and fee :
Such is your present to us; for you must know,
No more than fack: one lately did not fear
Year of our Lord fix hundred thirty-three.
Alas! to men here no words lefs hard be
To rhyme with, than* Mount Orgueil is to me;
'Twould need the preface of " God fave the King." Yet this I'll fay, for th' honour of the place, That, by God's extraordinary grace
(Which shows the people have judgment, if not wit), The land is undefil'd with Clinches yet;
Which, in my poor opinion, I confess,
Is a moft fingular blessing, and no less
*The name of one of the castles in Jerfey.
(That other crying fin o' th' English Mufe)
None here (no not so much as the divines)
'Tis true Green was made by it; for they say The parliament did a noble bounty do,
And gave him the whole prize, their tenths and fifteens
THE TREE OF KNOWLEDGE.
THAT THERE IS NO KNOWLEDGE.
Against the Dogmatists.
HE facred tree 'midst the fair orchard grew;
And built his perfum'd nest;
That right Porphyrian tree which did true Logick fhew.
Each leaf did learned notions give,
The very fhade they caft did other lights out-fhine.