tion seen presumptuous folly in the eyes of your discreeter judgment, in that without your privity (being a mere stranger, altogether unknown unto you) I have thus adventured to shelter my lines under the well-guided conduct of your honourable name: grounding my boldness upon this assurance, that true gentility is ever accompanied (especially in your sex, more specially in yourself) with her inseparable adjunct, singular Humanity, principally towards those, whom neither mercenary hopes or servile flattery, have induced to speak but with the privilege of troth. And as for such who misdeem virtue without cause, innocency shall pity them, though not eagerly with mortal hate: yet simply with naked truth, to which envy is ever opposite. Thus, Madam, presuming on your acceptance, I will in the mean while think my willing pains, hitherto confined to the Inns of Court, studies much different, highly guerdoned, and mine unfeathered muse, as soon dead as born, richly graced under the plumes of so worthy a protectress. The Honourer and Lover of your noble perfections, JO: FORD ΤΟ EACH AFFECTED READER. P Erverse construction of a plain intent, CONTEnted happiness, Secured peace, DEVO tion to the careless is meer folly, The favour of my favourers, not any Non omnibus studeo, Non malevolis. Our youthful poet seems sadly put to his wits to make out this precious Acrostic, which, I presume, may be fairly set down as the worst that ever passed the press. FAME'S MEMORIAL. SWIFT Time, the speedy pursuivant of heaven, The lasting volume where worth roves uneven, Where merit lives embraced, base scorn despis'd: Link'd to untainted truth, sprung from the same, Fame, she who long couch'd her imperial crown Which her with thoughts profane should entertain. Nor doth she lacky in this vale of mud, And spirits most heroic doth enflame, Base Fear, the only monument of slaves, Planting her gorgeous throne upon the crest This makes gross dregs of souls admire the verse Astonishing the chaff of pamper'd men, O that some sacred poet now surviv'd, O that he lived with scholys most divine, The Nine had pass'd for saints, had not our time Still added reverent statues to his days: Surmounting all the Nine in worth as far Now hovering Fame hath veil'd her false recluse, Worth's monumental rites, great MOUNTJOY's story. Great MOUNTJOY! were that name sincerely scann'd, Mysterious hieroglyphics would explane; Each letter's allegory grace the hand, By whom the sense should learnedly be drawn, To give but due to each deserving part. That is with homage to adore thy name, A trophy consecrated unto fame, Adding within our hearts historical, Yet all too mean to balance equal forage, Live, O live ye! whom poets deck with lies, |