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CX.

TO CLEMENT EDMONDS,

ON HIS CÆSAR'S COMMENTARIES OBSERVED AND
TRANSLATED.9

OT Cæsar's deeds, nor all his honours won,
In these west parts,' nor, when that war was
done,

The name of Pompey for an enemy,
Cato's to boot; Rome, and her liberty,
All yielding to his fortune, nor, the while,
To have engraved these acts with his own style,
And that so strong and deep, as't might be thought
He wrote with the same spirit that he fought;
Nor that his work lived in the hands of foes,
Unargued then, and yet hath fame from those;
Not all these, Edmonds, or what else put to,
Can so speak Cæsar, as thy labours do.
For where his person lived scarce one just age,
And that midst envy and parts; then fell by rage:
His deeds too dying, but in books, whose good
How few have read! how fewer understood!
Thy learned hand and true Promethean art,
As by a new creation, part by part,
In every counsel, stratagem, design,
Action, or engine, worth a note of thine,
To all future time not only doth restore
His life, but makes, that he can die no more.

9 To Clement Edmonds, on his Cæsar's Commentaries.] Of this learned gentleman, who bore several public offices, during the reigns of queen Elizabeth and James I., the reader has an account in the Athena Oxoniensis. WHAL.

This, and the following poem were prefixed, with other commendatory verses, to Observations upon Cæsar's Commentaries: by Clement Edmundes, Remembrancer of the city of London. fol.

1

In these west parts,] i. e. in Gaul and Britain. WHAL.

CXI.

TO THE SAME. ON THE SAME.

HO, Edmonds, reads thy book, and doth not

see

What the antique soldiers were, the modern.

be?

Wherein thou shew'st, how much the later are
Beholding to this master of the war;

And that in action there is nothing new,
More, than to vary what our elders knew ;
Which all but ignorant captains will confess;
Nor to give Cæsar this, makes ours the less.
Yet thou, perhaps, shalt meet some tongues will
grutch,

That to the world thou should'st reveal so much,
And thence deprave thee and thy work: to those
Cæsar stands up, as from his urn late rose,

By thy great help; and doth proclaim by me,
They murder him again, that envy thee.

CXII.

TO A WEAK GAMESTER IN POETRY.

ITH thy small stock, why art thou venturing

still,

At this so subtle sport, and play'st so ill?
Think'st thou it is mere fortune, that can win,
Or thy rank setting? that thou dar'st put in
Thy all, at all: and whatsoe'er I do,

Art still at that, and think'st to blow me' up too?
I cannot for the stage a drama lay,

Tragic or comic; but thou writ'st the play.

I leave thee there, and giving way, intend
An epic poem; thou hast the same end.
I modestly quit that, and think to write,
Next morn, an ode; thou mak'st a song ere night.
I pass to elegies; thou meet'st me there :
To satires; and thou dost pursue me.
Where,
Where shall I scape thee? in an epigram?
O, thou cry'st out, that is my proper game.
Troth, if it be, I pity thy ill luck;

That both for wit and sense so oft dost pluck,
And never art encounter'd, I confess;
Nor scarce dost colour for it, which is less.
Prithee, yet save thy rest; give o'er in time:
There's no vexation that can make thee prime.2

CXIII.

TO SIR THOMAS OVERBURY."

O Phoebus make me worthy of his bays,
As but to speak thee, Overbury, 's praise:
So where thou liv'st, thou mak'st life under-

stood,

Where, what makes other great, doth keep thee good!

2 There's no vexation that can make thee prime.] This is an excellent little poem; the allusion to a set at primero, which pervades the whole of it, is supported with equal spirit and ingenuity.

One of sir John Harington's "epigrams," or, as Jonson called them, "narrations," contains "the story of Marcus' life at primero." In this the various accidents of the game are detailed with great dulness and prolixity. A short specimen taken at random, will shew how closely our author has kept to the terms of the game.

"But Marcus never can encounter right,

Yet drew two aces, and for further spight
Had colour for it, with a hopeful draught,
But not encountered, it avail'd him naught."

3 Sir Thomas Overbury.] This epigram was probably written about 1610, when sir Thomas returned from his travels, and fol

I think, the fate of court thy coming crav'd,
That the wit there and manners might be sav'd:
For since, what ignorance, what pride is fled!
And letters, and humanity in the stead!
Repent thee not of thy fair precedent,

Could make such men, and such a place repent:
Nor may any fear to lose of their degree,
Who' in such ambition can but follow thee.

CXIV.

TO MISTRESS PHILIP SIDNEY.1

MUST believe some miracles still be,
When Sidney's name I hear, or face I see :
For Cupid, who at first took vain delight

In mere out-forms, until he lost his sight,

lowed the fortunes of Carr with a zeal and integrity worthy of a better fate. That sir Thomas was poisoned in the Tower by the infamous countess of Essex is well known; but it has been, and indeed still may be made a question, whether Carr himself was privy to this atrocious fact. It is said that his opposition to the marriage between his friend and the divorced countess made it expedient to remove him from court, and that while Rochester (Carr) intreated the king to bestow an embassy upon him, he secretly instigated Overbury to refuse the charge. It would seem, however, from Winwood's State Papers (vol. iii. pp. 447, 453, 475,) that the refusal originated with sir Thomas himself, who was of a lofty and unmanageable spirit. However it might be, James was justly irritated; the destined victim was committed to the Tower, and the catastrophe followed with fatal speed.

He was

Overbury was of an ancient family in Warwickshire. born in 1581, came to court to push his fortune in 1604, was knighted in 1608, and died in 1613. He was highly accomplished, and, as Granger truly remarks, was "possessed of parts, learning, and judgment, beyond his years."

4 Daughter of that great statesman, sir Francis Walsingham, many years principal secretary to queen Elizabeth, and widow of sir Philip Sidney. Walsingham died poor, so that his daughter, who was also his heiress, brought little to her husband besides her beauty and her virtues.

Hath changed his soul, and made his object you:
Where finding so much beauty met with virtùe,
He hath not only gain'd himself his eyes,
But, in your love, made all his servants wise.

CXV.

ON THE TOWN'S HONEST MAN.

OU wonder who this is, and why I name
Him not aloud, that boasts so good a fame :
Naming so many too! but this is one,

Suffers no name, but a description;
Being no vicious person, but the Vice
About the town; and known too, at that price.
A subtle thing that doth affections win
By speaking well o' the company it's in.
Talks loud and bawdy, has a gather'd deal
Of news and noise, to sow out a long meal.
Can come from Tripoly," leap stools, and wink,
Do all that longs to the anarchy of drink,
Except the duel can sing songs and catches;
Give every one his dose of mirth : and watches
Whose name's unwelcome to the present ear,
And him it lays on ;-if he be not there.
Tells of him all the tales itself then makes;
But if it shall be question'd, undertakes,
It will deny all; and forswear it too;
Not that it fears, but will not have to do
With such a one: and therein keeps its word.
'Twill see its sister naked, ere a sword.
23 At every meal, where it doth dine or sup,
The cloth's no sooner gone, but it gets up,
And shifting of its faces, doth play more

Can come from Tripoly,] i. e. can jump, and do feats of activity: see the Silent Woman. WHAL.

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