PRAISE.
Or who would ever care to do brave deed,
Or ftrive in virtue others to excel;
If none fhould yield him his deferved meed,
Due praife, that is the fpur of doing well?
For if good were not praised more than ill,
None would chufe good nefs, of his own free will.
Spenfer's Tears of the Mufes.
One good deed, dying tonguclefs,
Slaughters a thousand waiting upon
Our praises are our wages.
Shakespear's Winter's Tale.
The worthiness of praise diftains his worth;
If he that's prais'd, himself bring the praise forth: What the repining enemy commends,
That breath, fame blows; that praife, fole
Shakespear's Troilus and Creffida.
Your praife is come too fwiftly home before you :
Know you not, mafter, to fome kind of men,
Their graces ferve them but as enemies?
No more do yours; your virtues, gentle mafter,
Are fanctify'd and holy traitors to you.
Oh, what a world is this, when what is comely
Envenoms him that bears it!
Skakefpear's As you like it.
'Tis grown almoft a danger to speak true
Of any good mind; now, there are fo few.
The bad, by number are fo fortify'd,
As what they've loft t' expect, they dare deride:
So both the prais'd and praifer fuffer: yet
For others ill, ought none their good neglect.
Jobnfon's Foreft. That praife contents me more which one imparts, Of judgment found, though of a mean degree; 'Than praife from princes, void of princely parts, Who have more wealth, but not more wh than he. E. of Sterline's Cræfus.
And what is moft commended at this time,
Succeeding ages may account a crime.
E. of Sterline's Darius. Of which vain minds, it may be truly faid, Who love falfe praife, of falfe fcorns are afraid.
Lord Brooke on Fame and Honour.
Too eager a defence argues a strong
Oppofition; and too veh❜ment a praise,
Draws a fufpicion of others worthy disparagement.
Set tapers to bright day, it ill befits ;
Good wines can vent themselves, and not good wits.
Marfton's What you will.
True praife, the brow of common men doth ring;
Falfe, only girts the temples of a king.
Marfton's Second Part of Antonio and Mellida.
I have made short the hours that time made long ;
And chain'd mine ears to his moft pleafing tongue :
My lips have waited on your praises worth,
And fnatch'd his words ere he could get them forth:
When he had spoke, and fomething by the way
Hath broke off, that he was about to fay,
I kept in mind where from his tale he fell,
Calling on him the refidue to tell.
Oft he would fay, how fweet a prince is he!
When I have prais'd him, but for praifing thee;
And to proceed, I would entreat and wooe;
And yet to eafe him, help to praife thee too.
Drayton's Countess of Salisbury to the Black Prince.
He heightens them with commendation: Praife
Is the reflection doth from virtue rife:
Thefe fair encomiums do virtue raise
To higher acts to praife is to advise.
Telling men what they are, we let them fee,
And represent to them, what they should be.
To refufe juft praise,
Is an extreme, worse, than man's over-weening
Opinion of himself.
Nabbs's Hannibal and Scipio.
A Venus and Diana mixt in one
She was; whose wit was ev'n in greeneft years
Flowing as nectar; ripe as autumn fhewn,
And crown'd with graces, envy'd by white hairs:
Which who can tell? and yet who cannot tell?
Well may I praise her, but not praise her well.
To do it meanly, were no lefs difgrace,
Than a coarse garment to a princely dame;
Or homely painting to a lovely face;
Or a brass fetting to a precious gem.
Think not weak mufe by thy low song to raise her;
'Tis praise enough, that none enough can praise her.
Praife is but virtue's fhadow; who court her,
Doth more the handmaid than the dame admire.
Heath's Claraftella. This is new court thrift; they are not able To maintain flatterers, therefore bely
Each other, with their own praises.
Sir W. Davenant's Siege. Now he brings
The youths to view the temple built for praise;
Where olive for th' Olympian victor fprings;
Myrtle, for lovers; and for war's triumph, bays.
Thefe, as rewards of praife, about it grew;
For lib'ral praife, from an abundant mind,
Does ev'n the conqueror of fate fubdue;
Since heav'n's good king is captive to the kind.
Sir W. Davenant's Gondibert.
Commend but fparingly whom thou dof. love;
But lefs condemn whom thou doft not approve ;
Thy friend like flatt'ry, too much praise doth wrong;
And too fharp cenfure fhews an evil tongue.
Hark how they bandy praife, and flatt'ry round!
Each takes her turn to catch it at rebound;
Whilft we defertlefs fools muft patience feign,
And praife ourselves, if any praise we'll gain.
PRAYER.
We, ignorant of ourselves,
Beg often our own harms; which the wife pow'rs
Deny us for our good; fo find we profit
By lofing of our prayers.
Shakespear's Antony and Cleopatra,
That high all-feer, which I dallied with,
Hath turn'd my feigned prayer on my head,
And giv'n in earneft, what I begg'd in jest.
Thus doth he force the fwords of wicked men,
To turn their own points on their masters bofoms.
Shakespear's King Richard III.
Pray I cannot,
Though inclination be as fharp as will;
My ftronger guilt defeats my trong intent :
And, like a man to double business bound,
Iftand in paufe where I fhall firft begin,
And both neglect. What if this curfed hand
Were thicker than itself with brother's blood ?
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heav'ns
To wash it white as fnow? whereto ferves mercy,
But to confront the visage of offence?
And what's in prayer, but this two-fold force,
To be foreftalled ere we come to fall,
Or pardon'd being down? then I'll look up;
My fault is past -But oh! what form of pray'r
Can ferve my turn? forgive me my foul murther!
That cannot be, fince I am ftill poffeft
Of thofe effects, for which I did the murther;
My crown, my own ambition, and my queen.
What then? what rests?
Try, what repentance can: what can it not?
Yet what can it, when one cannot repent?
Oh wretched ftate! oh bofom, black as death!
Oh limed foul, that, fruggling to be free,
Art more engag'd! help, angels! make affay!
Bow, ftubborn knees; and, heart, with ftrings of steel,
Be foft as finews of the new-born babe!
When we of hopes, or helps, are quite bereaven,
Our humble pray'rs have entrance into heaven.
John Ford's Lover's Sacrifice.
Temporal bleffings heav'n doth often share
Unto the wicked, at the good man's pray'r.
Man's plea to man, is, that he never more
Will beg; and that he never begg'd before:
Man's plea to God is, that he did obtain
A former fuit, and therefore fues again.
How good a God we serve; that when we fue,
Makes his old gifts th' examples of his new!
A preacher at faint Antlin's, and divides
The day in exercife; I did commend
A great precifian to her, for her woman;
Who teils me, that her lady makes her quilt
Her fmocks before for kneeling.
Main's City-Match. Mark, Birtha, this unrighteous war of pray'r! Like wrangling ftates, you ask a monarch's aid When you are weak, that you may better dare Lay claim, to what your paffion would invade.
Long has th' ambitious world rudely preferr'd
Their quarrels, which they call their pray'rs, to heav'n; And thought that heav'n would like themselves have err'd: Depriving fome, of what's to others giv'n.
Thence modern faith becomes fo weak and blind,
Thinks heav'n in ruling other worlds employ'd,
And is not mindful of our abject kind,
Because all futes are not by all enjoy'd.
|