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- - - - I
- - - - 2 I
THE ForTUNATE Isles, AND THEIR UNION. . - - 61
Love's TRIUMPH THROUGH CALLIPolis. . - - - 83
CHLORIDIA: Rites to Chloris and her Nymphs. - - 93
AN EXPOSTULATION witH INIGo Jones . - - - Iod
Love's Welcome AT WELBEck. . - - - - 117
Love's Welcome AT Bolsover. . - - - - I31
EPIGRAMs . - - - - - - - - I4I
Dedication to the Earl of Pembroke . - - - I43
1. To the Reader . - - - - - - I45
Pray thee take care, that tak'st my book in hand.
2. To my Book . - - - - - I45
It will be looked for, Book, when some but see.
3. To my Bookseller - - - - - - I46
Thou that mak’st gain thy end, and wisely well.
4. To King James . - - - - - 146
How, best of Kings, dost thou a sceptre bear.
5. On the Union . - - - - - 148
When was there contract better driven by fate.
6. To Alchemists . - - - - - - 148
If all you boast of your great art be true.
7. On the New Hot-house - - 148
Where lately harboured many a famous whore. -
May none whose scatter'd names honour my book.
. To my Lord Ignorant - - - Thou call'st me poet, as a term of shame.
. On Somebody that walks Somewhere .
At court I met it, in clothes brave enough.
12. On Lieutenant Shift . -
Shift, here in town, not meanest among squires.
13. To Dr. Empiric. - - - - -
When men a dangerous disease did 'scape.
14. To William Camden . - - - - -
Camden / most reverend head, to whom I owe.
15. On Court-worm . - - - - - -
All men are worms: but this no man. In silk.
16. To Brainhardy . - - - -
Bardy, thy brain is valiant, 'tis confest.
17. To the Learned Critic - - - -
May others fear, fly, and traduce thy name.
18. To my mere English Censurer . - - -
To thee, my way in Epigrams seems new.
19. On Sir Cod the Perfumed. - - -
That Cod can get no widow, yet a knight.
20. To the same - - - - -
The expense in odours is a most vain sin.
21. On Reformed Gamester . - - - -
Lord, how is Gamester changed / his hair close cut.
22. On my First Daughter - - -
Here lies, to each her parent's ruth.
23. To John Donne - - - - -
Donne, the delight of Phaebus and each Muse.
24. To the Parliament . -
25. On Sir Voluptuous Beast . . - - - -
While Beast instructs his fair and innocent wife.
26. On the same . - - - - - -
Than his chaste wife though Beast now know no
27. On Sir John Roe - -
In place of scutcheons, that should do thy hears.
On Don Surly - - - -
Don Surly, to aspire the glorious name.
To Sir Annual Tilter . - - - - -
Tilter, the most may admire thee, though not I.
Guilty, bewise; and though thou know'st the crimes.
On Banks the Usurer - - - -
Banks feels no lameness of his knotty gout.
On Sir John Roe - - - - -
What two brave perils of the private sword.
To the same . - - - - -
I’ll not offend thee with a vain tear more.
Of Death . - - - - - -
He that fears death, or mourns it, in the just.
To King James . - - - - -
Who would not be thy subject, James, to obey.
To the Ghost of Martial - - -
Martial, thou gav'st far nobler Epigrams.
On Cheveril the Lawyer - - -
No cause, no client fat, will Cheveril leese.
To Person Guilty - - - -
Guilty, because I bade you late be wise.
On Old Colt - - - - - -
For all night-sins, with others' wives unknown.
On Margaret Ratcliffe - -
Marble, weep, for thou dost cover.
On Gipsy . - - - - -
Gipsy, new bawd, is turned physician.
On Giles and Joan . - - - -
Who says that Giles and Joan at discord be 2
To Robert Earl of Salisbury - - -
What need hast thou of me, or of my Muse.
. On Chuffe, Banks the Usurer's Kinsman
Chuffe, lately rich in name, in chattels, good.
On my First Son - - - - - -
Farewell, thou child of my right hand, and joy.
To Sir Luckless Woo-all - - -
Is this the sir, who, some waste wife to win.
To the same . - - - - - -
Sir Luckless, troth, for luck's sake pass by one.
Idiot, last night IArayed the intforwar. -
On Spies - - - - - -
Spies, you are lights in state, but of base stuff.
To William, Lord Mounteagle . - - -
Lo, what my country should have done, have raised.
To Fool, or Knave . - - -
Thy praise or dispraise is to me alike.
To Fine Lady Would-be . - - - -
Fine Madam Would-be, wherefore should you fear.
To Robert, Earl of Salisbury -
Who can consider thy right courses run.
To the same . - - - - - -
Mot glad, like those that have new hopes, or suits.
To my Muse . - - - - - -
Away, and leave me, thou thing most abhorred.
To Sir Henry Cary . . - - -
That neither fame nor love might wanting be.
To Thomas, Earl of Suffolk - - -
Since men have left to do praiseworthy things.