The Works of Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher in Ten Volumes - Volume I | Page 7

sister, shee'l straight flie to thee:?But if a holy Habit shee have on,?Or be some Novice, shee'l scarce looks upon?Thy Lines at first; but watch Her then a while,?And you shall see Her steale a gentle smile?Upon thy Title, put thee neerer yet,?Breath on thy Lines a whisper, and then set?Her voyce up to the measures; then begin?To blesse the houre, and happy state shee's in.?Now shee layes by her Characters, and lookes?With a stern eye on all her pretty Bookes.?Shee's now thy Voteresse, and the just Crowne?She brings thee with it, is worth half the Towne.?I'le send thee to the Army, they that fight?Will read thy tragedies with some delight,?Be all thy Reformadoes, fancy scars,?And pay too, in thy speculative wars.?I'le send thy Comick scenes to some of those?That for a great while have plaid fast and loose;?New universalists, by changing shapes,?Have made with wit and fortune faire escapes.?Then shall the Countrie that poor Tennis-ball?Of angry fate, receive thy Pastorall,?And from it learn those melancholy straines?Fed the afflicted soules of Primitive swaines.?Thus the whole World to reverence will flock?Thy Tragick Buskin and thy Comick Stock;?And winged fame unto posterity?Transmit but onely two, this Age, and Thee._
THOMAS PEYTON.
_Agricola Anglo-Cantianus._
VERSES
ON THE
Deceased Authour, Mr John Fletcher,?his Plays; and especially, _The Mad Lover_.
_Whilst his well organ'd body doth retreat,?To its first matter, and the formall heat?Triumphant sits in judgement to approve?Pieces above our Candour and our love:?Such as dare boldly venter to appeare?Unto the curious eye, and Criticke eare:?Lo the_ Mad Lover _in these various times?Is pressed to life, t' accuse us of our crimes.?While_ Fletcher _liv'd, who equall to him writ?Such lasting Monuments of naturall wit??Others might draw: their lines with sweat, like those?That (with much paines) a Garrison inclose;?Whilst his sweet fluent veine did gently runne?As uncontrold, and smoothly as the Sun.?After his death our Theatres did make?Him in his own unequald Language speake:?And now when all the Muses out of their?Approved modesty silent appeare,?This Play of_ Fletchers _braves the envious light?As wonder of our eares once, now our sight.?Three and fourfold blest Poet, who the Lives?Of Poets, and of Theaters survives!?A Groome, or Ostler of some wit may bring?His Pegasus to the Castalian spring;?Boast he a race o're the Pharsalian plaine,?Or happy_ Tempe _valley dares maintaine:?Brag at one leape upon the double Cliffe?(Were it as high as monstrous Tennariffe)?Of farre-renown'd Parnassus he will get,?And there (t' amaze the World) confirme his state:?When our admired_ Fletcher _vaunts not ought,?And slighted everything he writ as naught:?While all our English wondring world (in's cause)?Made this great City eccho with applause.?Read him therefore all that can read, and those?That cannot learne, if y' are not Learnings foes,?And wilfully resolved to refuse?The gentle Raptures of this happy Muse.?From thy great constellation (noble Soule)?Looke on this Kingdome, suffer not the whole?Spirit of Poesie retire to Heaven,?But make us entertains what thou hast given.?Earthquakes and Thunder Diapasons make?The Seas vast roare, and irresistlesse shake?Of horrid winds, a sympathy compose;?So in these things there's musicke in the close:?And though they seem great Discords in our eares,?They are not so to them above the Spheares.?Granting these Musicke, how much sweeter's that_?Mnemosyne's _daughter's voyces doe create??Since Heaven, and Earth, and Seas, and Ayre consent?To make an Harmony (the Instrument,?Their man agreeing selves) shall we refuse?The Musicke which the Deities doe use?_?Troys _ravisht_ Ganymed _doth sing to_ Jove,?_And_ Phoebus _selfe playes on his Lyre above.?The Cretan Gods, or glorious men, who will?Imitate right, must wonder at thy skill,?Best Poet of thy times, or he will prove?As mad as thy brave_ Memnon _was with love._
ASTON COKAINE, Baronet.
Upon the Works of BEAUMONT,?and FLETCHER.
_How_ Angels (_cloyster'd in our humane Cells_)?_Maintaine their parley,_ Beaumont-Fletcher _tels;?Whose strange unimitable Intercourse?Transcends all Rules, and flyes beyond the force?Of the most forward soules; all must submit?Untill they reach these_ Mysteries _of Wit.?The_ Intellectuall Language _here's exprest,?Admir'd in better times, and dares the Test?Of Ours; for from_ Wit, Sweetnesse, Mirth, _and_ Sence,?_This Volume springs a new true_ Quintessence.
JO. PETTUS, Knight.
On the Works of the most excellent Dramatick Poet, Mr. _John F[l]etcher_, never before Printed.
Haile_ Fletcher, _welcome to the worlds great Stage;?For our two houres, we have thee here an age?In thy whole Works, and may th'_ Impression _call?The_ Pretor _that presents thy Playes to