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continued so long in reputation, because they have
drawn her in all the charms of poetry. No man is
so senseless of rational impressions, as not to be
wonderfully affected with the pastorals of the an-
cients, when, under the stories of wolves and sheep,
they describe the misery of people under hard
masters, and their happiness under good. So the
bitter but wholesome iambic was wont to make
villainy blush ; the satire incited men to laugh at
folly; the comedian chastised the common errors
of life; and the tragedian made kings afraid to be
tyrants, and tyrants to be their own tormentors.

Wherefore, as sir Philip Sidney said of Chaucer,
that he knew not which he should most wonder at,
either that he in his dark time should see so dis-
tinctly, or that we in this clear age should go so
stumblingly after him; so may we marvel at and
bewail the low condition of poetry now, when in
our plays scarce any one rule of decorum is ob.
served, but in the space of two hours and an half
we pass through all the fits of Bedlam; in one
scene we are all in mirth, in the next we are sunk
into sadness; whilst even the most laboured parts
are commonly starved for want of thought; a con-
fused heap of words, and empty sound of rhyme.

This very consideration should advance the es. teem of the following poem, wherein are represented the various movements of the mind; which we are as much transported as with the most excellent scenes of passion in Shakespeare, or Fletcher: for in this, as in a mirror (that will not flatter) we see how the soul arbitrates in the un. derstanding upon the various reports of sense, and all the changes of imagination : how compliant the

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which are nearer to us than all other things, and yet nothing further from our acquaintance.

But here all the labyrinths and windings of the human frame are laid open: it is seen by what pullies and wheels the work is carried on, as plainly as if a window were opened into our breast: for it is the work of God alone to create a mind. The next to this is to show how its operations are performed.

X. TATE.

THE

AUTHOR'S DEDICATION

TO

QUEEN ELIZABETH.

To that clear majesty which in the north

Doth, like another Sun, in glory rise, (worth; Which standeth fix'd, yet spreads her heav'nly

Loadstone to hearts, and loadstar to all eyes.

Like Heav’n in all, like Earth to this alone,

That through great states by her support do Yet she herself supported is of none, (stand;

But by the finger of th’ Almighty's hand.

To the divinest and the richest mind,

Both by Art's purchase, and by Nature's dow'r, That ever was from Heaven to Earth confin'd,

To show the utmost of a creature's pow'r:

move;

To that great spring, which doth great kingdoms

(streams, The sacred spring, whence right and honour Distilling virtue, shedding peace and love,

In every place, as Cynthia sheds her beams :

I offer up some sparkles of that fire,

Whereby we reason, live, and move, and be,
These sparks by nature evermore aspire,

Which makes them now to such a highness flee.

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Fair soul, since to the fairest body join’d,

You give such lively life, such quick’ning pow'r; And influence of such celestial kind,

As keeps it still in youth's immortal flower:

As where the sun is present all the year,

And never doth retire his golden ray,
Needs must the spring be everlasting there,

And every season like the month of May.

0! many, many years may you remain

A happy angel to this happy land:
Long, long may you on earth our empress reign,

Ere you in Heaven a glorious angel stand.

Stay long (sweet spirit) ere thou to Heaven depart,
Who mak’st each place a Heaven wherein thou art.

Her majesty's devoted subject

and servant,

JOHN DAVIES.

July 11, 1592.

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