Sure unkind Fate will tempt your spirit no more ;
Sh' has try'd her weakness and your strength before.
T'oppose him still, who once has conquer'd so,
Were now to be your rebel, not your foe;
Fortune henceforth will more of providence have,
And rather be your friend than be your flave.

ТО А

WHO MADE

LADY

POSIES FOR RINGS.

I

Little thought the time would ever be,
That I should wit in dwarfish pofies fee.
As all words in few letters live,
Thou to few words all fense doft give.
'Twas Nature taught you this rare art,
In fuch a little much to fhew;
Who, all the good she did impart
To womankind, epitomiz'd in you.

If, as the ancients did not doubt to fing,
The turning years be well compar'd to' a ring,
We'll write whate'er from you we hear;

For that 's the pofy of the

year.

This difference only will remain

That Time his former face does thew,

Winding into himself again;

But your unweary'd wit is always new.

Tis said that conjurers have an art found out
To carry fpirits confin'd in rings about:
The wonder now will less appear,
When we behold your magic here.
You, by your rings, do prifoners take,
And chain them with your myftic spells,

And, the strong witchcraft full to make, Love, the great devil, charm'd to those circles, dwells.

They who above do various circles find,

Say, like a ring th' Equator heaven does bind.
When heaven shall be adorn'd by thee
(Which then more Heaven than 'tis will be),
'Tis thou must write the pofy there;
For it wanteth one as yet,

Though the fun pafs through 't twice a year;
The fun, who is esteem'd the God of wit.

Happy the hands which wear thy facred rings,
They 'H teach thofe hands to write myfterious things,
Let other rings, with jewels bright,
Caft around their costly light;
Let them want no noble stone,

By nature rich and art refin'd;

Yet fhall thy rings give place to none, But only that which must thy marriage bind.

PROLOGUE TO THE GUARDIANS

BEFORE THE PRINCE.

WH HO fays the times do learning difallow?

'Tis falfe; 'twas never honour'd fo as now.
When you appear, great Prince! our night is done,
You are our morning-star, and shall be our fun.
But our scene 's London now; and by the rout
We perish, if the Round-heads be about:
For now no ornament the head must wear,
No bays, no mitre, not fo much as hair.
How can a play páfs fafely, when ye know
Cheapfide-crofs falls for making but a show?
Our only hope is this, that it may be
A play may pass too, made extempore.
Though other arts poor and neglected grow
They 'll admit Poefy which was always fo.
But we contemn the fury of these days,

And scorn no less their censure than their praise
Our Muse, bleft Prince! does only' on you rely
Would gladly live, but not refufe to die.
Accept our hafty zeal! a thing that 's play'd
Ere 'tis a play, and acted ere 'tis made.
Our ignorance, but our duty too, we show;
I would all ignorant people would do fo!
At other times expect our wit or art;
This comedy is acted by the heart.

THE

THE play, great Sir! is done; yet needs must

fear,

Though you brought all your father's mercies here,
It may offend your Highness; and we 'ave now
Three hours done treafon here, for aught we know,
But power your grace can above Nature give,
It can give power to make abortives live;
In which, if our bold wishes should be croft,
'Tis but the life of one poor week 't has loft:
Though it should fall beneath your mortal scorn,
Scarce could it die more quickly than 'twas born.

MR.

ON THE DEATH OF

WILLIAM HERVE Y.

"Immodicis brevis eft ætas, & rara fenectus." MART.

T was a difmal and a fearful night,

IT

Scarce could the morn drive on th' unwilling light, When fleep, death's image, left my troubled breast, By fomething liker death poffeft.

My eyes with tears did uncommanded flow,

And on my foul hung the dull weight

Of fome intolerable fate.

What bell was that? ah me! too much I know.

My fweet companion, and my gentle peer,,
Why haft thou left me thus unkindly here,,
Thy end for ever, and my life, to moan?
O, thou haft left me all alone!

Thy foul and body, when Death's agony
Befieg'd around thy noble heart,

Did not with more reluctance part,

Than I, my dearest friend! do part from thee..

My dearest friend, would I had dy'd for thee!
Life and this world henceforth will tedious be..
Nor fhall I know hereafter what to do,

If once my griefs prove tedious too.
Silent and fad I walk about all day,

As fullen ghosts ftalk speechless by
Where their hid treafures lie;

Alas! my treasure 's gone! why do I stay?

He was my friend, the truest friend on earth
A ftrong and mighty influence join'd our birth ;;
Nor did we envy the most founding name
By friendship given of old to fame.
None but his brethren he and fifters knew,
Whom the kind youth preferr'd to me ;
And ev'n in that we did agree,

For much above myself I lov'd them too.

Say, for you faw us, ye immortal lights,
How oft unweary'd have we spent the nights,,
Till the Ledæan stars, fo fam'd for love,

Wonder'd at us from above!

We