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Or if any strife betide

For the breeches with the bride,
'Tis but th' next neighbour ride
And she is pleased;

Or it be the gossip's hap

Each to pawn her husband's cap
At Pem Waker's good ale-tap
Her mind is easèd.

Or by chance if in their grease
Or their ale, they break the peace,
Forfeiting their drinking lease

She will not seize it.

F

A SONG.

RESH as the day, and new as are the hours,
Our first of fruits, that is the prime of flowers,
Bred by your breath on this low bank of ours,
Now in a garland by the Graces knit

Upon this obelisk, advanced for it,

We offer as a circle the most fit,

To crown the years which you begin, great king, And you with them, as father of our spring.

TO THE MOST NOBLE AND ABOVE HIS TITLEs, Robert, EARLE OF SOMERSET. [SENT TO HIM ON HIS WEDDING-DAY, 1613.]

HEY are not those, are present with their face,
And clothes, and gifts, that only do thee

grace

At these thy nuptials; but whose heart and thought

Do wait upon thee: and their Love not bought.

Such wear true Wedding robes, and are true Friends, That bid God give thee joy, and have no ends. W'h I do, early, virtuous Somerset,

And pray thy joys as lasting be as great.

Not only this but every day of thine

With the same look, or with a better shine. May she, whom thou for spouse to-day dost take, Outbee that Wife in worth thy friend did make : And thou to her that Husband may exalt

Hymen's amends to make it worth his fault.
So be there never discontent, or sorrow,

To rise with either of you on the morrow.
So be your concord, still, as deep as mute;
And every joy in marriage turn a fruit;
So may those marriage pledges comforts prove,
And every birth increase the heat of Love;
So, in their number, may you never see
Mortality, till you immortal be.

And when your years rise more than would be told
Yet neither of you seem to the other old.
That all that view you then and late may say,
Sure this glad pair were married but this day!'
BEN JONSON.

7 These lines, first printed in Notes and Queries, 1st S. vol. v. p. 193, were found in the poet's autograph, pasted into the "virtuous Somerset's" own copy of the 1640 folio, headed by the following inscription, "These verses were made by the author of this book, and were delivered to the earl of Somerset upon his lordship's wedding-day." Gifford (vol. vii. p. 44), was not aware of the existence of these lines when he says, "it is to Jonson's praise that he took no part in the celebration of this marriage." The allusions to "The Wife" which "thy friend did make," have a terrible significance when the fate of sir Thomas Overbury is remembered. F. C.

AN EPIGRAM TO MY JOVIAL Good friend Mr. Robert
DOVER, ON HIS GREAT INSTAURATION OF HIS HUNT-
ING AND DANCING AT COTSWOLD.R

CANNOT bring my muse to drop vies
'Twixt Cotswold and the Olympic exercise,
But I can tell thee, Dover, how thy games
Renew the glories of our blessed James :

How they do keep alive his memory
With the glad country and posterity;

How they advance true love and neighbourhood,
And do both church and commonwealth the good
In spite of hypocrites, who are the worst

Of subjects. Let such envy till they burst.

BEN JONSON.

PREFIXED TO FARNABY'S JUVENAL.'

EMPORIBUS lux magna fuit Juvenalis avitis,

Moribus, ingeniis, divitiis, vitiis.

Tu lux es luci, Farnabi: operisque fugasti
Temporis et tenebras, ingenii radiis.

8 From the Annalia Dubrensia, 66 a collection of encomiastic verses," says Mr. Bolton Corney, "somewhat like those on Sidney, or Bodley, or Camden-composed and published in honour of Mr. Robert Dover, the founder of an annual meeting for rustic sports upon the Cotswold Hills, in the reign of James I. The volume, small 4to., is dated 1636, and contains the effusions of more than thirty poets." See Notes and Queries, 3rd S. ix. 100. 9 For the meaning of the word "vies," see note, vol. i. p. 101. Jonson had a high opinion of Farnaby as an editor; see the inscription in a copy of his Martial, given in a note, vol. i. p. cxxi.; and also the text at the same place for Farnaby's manly and eloquent recognition of Jonson's own merits. F. C.

Lux tua parva quidem mole est, sed magna rigore,
Sensibus et docti pondere judicii.

Macte: tuo scriptores, lectoresque labore
Per te alii vigeant, per te alii videant.

BEN JONSONIUS.2

A FRAGMENT OF ONE OF THE LOST QUATERNIONS OF
EUPHEME.3

JOU worms (my rivals), whiles she was alive,
How many thousands were there that did

strive

To have your freedom? For their sakes for-
bear

Unseemly holes in her soft skin to wear;
But, if you must (as what worm can abstain ?)
Taste of her tender body, yet refrain,

With your disordered eatings, to deface. her,
And feed yourselves so as you most may grace her.
First, through yon ear-tips see you work a pair
Of holes, which as the moist enclosed air
Turns into water, may the cold drops take
And in her ears a pair of jewels make.
That done, upon her bosom make your feast,
Where, on a cross, carve Jesus in her breast.
Have you not yet enough of that soft skin,
The touch of which in times past might have bin
Enough to ransom many a thousand soul
Captived to love? Then hence your bodies roll
A little higher; when I would you have
This epitaph upon her forehead grave;
Living, she was fair, young, and full of wit:
Dead, all her faults are in her forehead writ.3

2 Notes and Queries, 3rd S. viii. 195.
3 From Notes and Queries, 1st S. iii. 367.

MASTER WITHER'S LINES.

Wither.

HALL I, wasting in despair,
Die because a woman's fair,

Or my cheeks make pale with care
'Cause another's rosie are?

Be she fairer than the day
Or the flowery meads of May,
If she be not so to me,

What care I how fair she be?

Shall my foolish heart be blind,
'Cause I see a woman's kind,
Or a well disposèd nature
Joined in a comely feature?
Be she kind, or meeker than
Turtle dove, or pelican,
If she be not so to me,
What care I how kind she be?

Shall a woman's virtues make
Me to perish for her sake,
Or her merit's value known
Make me quite forget my own?
Be she with that goodness blest,
That may merit name of best,
If she seem not so to me,
What care I how good she be?
'Cause her fortunes seem too high
Should I play the fool and die?
He that bears a noble mind
If not outward help he find,

4 Dr. Bliss copied this playful and ingenious parody from a "volume of peculiar rarity." A Description of Love, with certain Epigrams, Elegies, and Sonnets, and also Master Johnson's answer to Master Withers. With the Boy of Ludgate, and the Song of

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