MASTER JONSON'S ANSWER.*

Jonson.

HALL I my affections slack
'Cause I see a woman's black,
Or myself with care cast down
'Cause I see a woman's brown?
Be she blacker than the night
Or the blackest jet in sight,
If she be not so to me,

What care I how black she be?

Shall my foolish heart be burst
'Cause I see a woman's curst,
Or a thwarting hoggish nature
Joined in as bad a feature?
Be she curst, or fiercer than
Brutish beast or savage man,
If she be not so to me,
What care I how curst she be?

Shall a woman's vices make
Me her vices quite forsake,

Or her faults to me made known.
Make me think that I have none?
Be she of the most accurst,
And deserve the name of worst;

If she be not so to me,

What care I how bad she be?

'Cause her fortunes seem too low

Shall I therefore let her go?
He that bears an ample mind
And with riches can be kind,

the Beggar. London, 1625. Gifford did not believe this to be Jonson's composition, but his reasons appear to me to be altogether insufficient when weighed against the fact of its being published with his name in his life-time. See note 9, p. cxxiv. vol. i. F. C.

Think what with them he would do
That without them dares to woo?
And unless that mind I see,
What care I how great she be?

Great, or proud, or kind, or fair,
I will ne'er the more despair,
If she love me, then believe
I will die ere she shall grieve:
If she slight me when I woo,
I can slight and bid her go.
If she be not fit for me,
What care I for whom she be?

MARTIALIS. EPIG. Lib. x. 47.

ITAM quæ faciunt beatiorem, Fucundissime Martialis, hæc sunt; Res non parta labore, sed relicta : Non ingratus ager; focus perennis; Lis nunquam; toga rara; mens quieta; Vires ingenua; salubre corpus ; Prudens simplicitas; pares amici; Convictus facilis; sine arte mensa; Nox non ebria, sed soluta curis; Non tristis torus, et tamen pudicus; Somnus, qui faciat breves tenebras: Quod sis, esse velis, nihilque mali: Summum nec metuas diem, nec optes.

I think how kind a heart he'd have
If he were some servile slave;
And if that same mind I see,
What care I how poor she be?

Poor, or bad, or curst, or black,
I will ne'er the more be slack,
If she hate me, then believe
She shall die ere I will grieve.
If she like me when I woo,
I can like and love her too;
If that she be fit for me,
What care I what others be?

MARTIAL.

EPIG. Lib. x. 47, TRANSLATED.

HE things that make the happier life are these,
Most pleasant Martial; Substance got with

ease,

Not laboured for, but left thee by thy Sire; A soil not barren; a continual fire;

Never at law; seldom in office gownd;

A quiet mind, free powers, and body sound;
A wise simplicity; friends alike stated;
Thy table without art, and easy rated;

Thy night not drunken, but from cares laid waste,
No sour or sullen bed-mate, yet a chaste;
Sleep that will make the darkest hours swift-pac't;
Will to be what thou art, and nothing more;
Nor fear thy latest day, nor wish therefor.

In a conversation at Hawthornden (No. ii. post) Jonson recommended Drummond to study Martial, and added that he had translated his Epigram Vitam quæ faciunt beatiorem, &c. The above verses were discovered by Mr. Collier at Dulwich in Jonson's handwriting, and are no doubt the translation alluded to. Mr. Collier printed them in his Memoirs of Edward Alleyn, P. 54. F. C.

TO MY DETRACTOR.

Y verses were commended, thou dar'st say,
And they were very good; yet thou think'stnay;
For thou objectest (as thou hast been told)
The envied returns of forty pound in gold.
Fool! do not rate my rhymes: I've found thy vice
Is to make cheap the lord, the lines, the price.
But howl thou on, I pity thee, poor cur,

Till thou hast lost thy noise, thy foam, thy stir,
To be known what thou art, a blatant beast,

By barking against me.

Thou look'st at least

I now would write on thee! No, wretch; thy name Shall not work out unto it such a fame.

Thou art not worth it. Who will care to know

If such a tyke as thou e'er wert or no?

A mongrel cur, thou should'st stink forth and die
Nameless and noisome as thy infamy!

No man will tarry by thee, as he

goes,

To ask thy name if he have half his nose,

But fly thee like the Pest. Walk not the street
Out in the dog-days, lest the killer meet
Thy noddle with his club, and dashing forth
Thy dirty brains, men smell thy want of worth."

TO HIS MUCH AND WORTHILY-ESTEEMED FRIEND,
THE AUTHOR OF "CINTHIA'S REVENGE."7

HO takes thy volume to his virtuous hand
Must be intended still to understand:

W

Who bluntly doth but look upon the same
May ask, What Author would conceal his

name?

6 Gifford printed a very imperfect copy of these verses, and pronounced them not to be Jonson's. See ante, p. 32. F. C.

7 These lines are prefixed to Cinthia's Revenge: or Menander's Extasie. Written by John Stephens, Gent., London, 1613. Mr. W.

8

Who reads may roave, and call the passage dark,
Yet may as blind men, sometimes, hit the mark.
Who reads, who roaves, who hopes to understand,
May take thy volume to his virtuous hand.
Who cannot read, but only doth desire
To understand, he may at length admire.

FROM THE NEW ENGLISH CANAAN."

B. I.

SING the adventures of nine worthy wights,
And pity 'tis I cannot call them knights,
Since they had brawn and brain, and were
right able

To be installed of Prince Arthur's table;
Yet all of them were squires of low degree,
As did appear by rules of Heraldry.
The Magi told of a prodigious birth,

That shortly should be found upon the earth,
By Archimedes' art, which they misconster
Unto their land would prove a hideous monster.
Seven heads it had, and twice so many feet,
Arguing the body to be wondrous great;
Besides a forked tail, heaved up on high,
As if it threatened battle to the sky.
The Rumour of this fearful prodigy
Did cause the effeminate multitude to cry,
For want of great Alcides' aid, and stood
Like people that have seen Medusa's head:
Great was the grief of heart, great was the moan,

C. Hazlitt states his conviction that "although the name of Stephens appears upon the title, internal evidence establishes the authorship of Swallow." F. C.

8 To roave, or rove, a term of archery; means here to take a guess. 9 From The New English Canaan. Containing an Abstract of New England in three Books, written upon tenne Yeares Knowledge and Experiment of the Country. [By Thomas Morton.] Amsterdam, 1627, 4to. F. C.