1. THE LOVER'S MELANCHOLY. T. C. Acted at the Blackfriars and the Globe, 24th November, 1628. Printed 1629.

2. 'TIS PITY SHE'S A WHORE. T. Printed 1633. Acted at the Phoenix.

3. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. T. By Rowley, Decker, Ford, &c. Printed 1658. Probably acted soon after 1622. Acted at the Cockpit, and at Court.

4. THE SUN'S DARLING. M. By Ford and Decker. Acted in March, 1623-24, at the Cockpit. Printed 1657.

5. THE BROKEN HEART. T. Printed 1633. Acted at the Blackfriars.

6. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. T. Printed 1633. Acted at the Phoenix.

7. PERKIN WARBECK. H. T. Printed 1634. Acted at the Phoenix.

8. THE FANCIES, CHASTE AND NOBLE. C. Printed 1638. Acted at the Phoenix.

9. THE LADY'S TRIAL. T. C. Acted at the Cockpit in May, 1638. Printed 1639.

10. BEAUTY IN A TRANCE. T. Entered on the Stationers' books, September 9th, 1653, but not printed. Destroyed by Mr. Warburton's servant.

11. THE LONDON MERCHANT. C.

12. THE ROYAL COMBAT. C.

13. AN ILL BEGINNING HAS A GOOD END. C. Played at the Cockpit, 1613.

The above three comedies entered on the Stationers' books, June 29th, 1660, but not printed. Destroyed by Mr. Warburton's servant.

14. THE FAIRY KNIGHT. Ford and Decker.

15. A LATE MURTHER OF THE SONNE UPON THE MOTHER. Ford and Webster.

16. THE BRISTOWE MERCHANT. Ford and

Decker.

To my Honoured Friend, Master JOHN FORD, on his "Lover's Melancholy."

IF that thou think'st these lines thy worth can raise,

Thou dost mistake: my liking is no praise;
Nor can I think thy judgment is so ill
To seek for bays from such a barren quill.
Let your true critic, that can judge and mend,
Allow thy scenes and style: I, as a friend
That knows thy worth, do only stick my name
To show my love, not to advance thy fame.

GEORGE DONNE.

To his worthy Friend, the Author of "The Lover's
Melancholy," Master JOHN FORD.

I write not to thy play: I'll not begin
To throw a censure upon what hath been
By th' best approved: it can nor fear, nor want
The rage, or liking of the ignorant.

Nor seek I fame for thee, when thine own pen
Hath forced a praise long since, from knowing men.
I speak my thoughts, and wish unto the stage

A glory from thy studies; that the age
May be indebted to thee, for reprieve
Of purer language, and that spite may grieve
To see itself outdone. When thou art read,
The theatre may hope arts are not dead,
Though long concealed; that poet-apes may fear
To vent their weakness, mend, or quite forbear.
This I dare promise; and keep this in store,-
As thou hast done enough, thou canst do more.

To the Author of the "Lover's Melancholy,"
Master JOHN FORD.

Black choler, reason's overflowing spring,
Where thirsty lovers drink, or anything,
Passion, the restless current of dull plaints
Affords their thoughts, who deem lost beauties
saints;

Here their best lectures read, collect, and see
Various conditions of humanity,

Highly enlighten'd by thy muse's rage;
Yet all so couch'd that they adorn'd the stage.
Shun Phocion's blushes thou; for sure to please
It is no sin, then what is thy disease?
Judgment's applause? effeminated smiles?
Study's delight? thy wit mistrust beguiles :
Establish'd fame will thy physician be,
(Write but again) to cure thy jealousy.

Dare speak this piece, in words, in matter,

A work, without the danger of a lie.

Believe me, friend, the name of this and thee,
Will live, your story:
Books may want faith, or merit glory;
This neither, without judgment's lethargy.
When the arts doat, then some sick poet may
Hope that his pen,

In new-stained paper, can find men

To roar,
"He is the Wit;" his noise doth sway:
But such an age cannot be known; for all
Ere that time be,

Must prove such truth, mortality:
So, friend, thy honour stands too fix'd to fall.

GEORGE DONNE.

To Master JOHN FORD, of the Middle Temple, on his" Bower of Fancies, or Fancies Chaste and Noble."

I follow fair example, not report,
Like wits o' th' university or court,

To show how I can write,

At mine own charges, for the time's delight:
But to acquit a debt,

Due to right poets, not the counterfeit.

These Fancies Chaste and Noble are no strains
Dropt from the itch of over-heated brains :
They speak unblushing truth,

The guard of beauty, and the care of youth;
Well relish'd might repair

An academy for the young and fair.

Such labours, friend, will live; for though some new Pretenders to the stage, in haste pursue

Those laurels, which of old

Enrich'd the actors: yet I can be bold,
To say, their hopes are starv'd;

For they but beg what pens approv'd deserv'd.

Is he then found? Phoebus, make holiday,
Tie up thy steeds, and let the Cyclops play :
Mulciber, leave thy anvil, and be trim;
Comb thy black muzzle, be no longer grim:
Mercury, be quick, with mirth furnish the heavens,
Jove, this day let all run at six and sevens;
And Ganimede, be nimble, to the brim
Fill bowls of nectar, that the Gods may swim,
To solemnise their health that did discover
The obscure being of the sun's fond lover;
That from the example of their liberal mirth
We may enjoy like freedom [here] on earth.

JOHN TATHAM.

To his worthy Friend, Master JOHN FORD, upon his "Perkin Warbeck."

Let men, who are writ poets, lay a claim
To the Phoebean hill, I have no name,
Nor art in verse; true, I have heard some tell
Of Aganippe, but ne'er knew the well:
Therefore have no ambition with the times,
To be in print, for making of ill rhymes;
But love of thee, and justice to thy pen,
Hath drawn me to this bar, with other men
To justify, though against double laws,
(Waving the subtle business of his cause,)
The GLORIOUS PERKIN, and thy poet's art,
Equal with his, in playing the king's part.
RA. EURE, Baronis primogenitus.

To the Author, his Friend, upon his Chronicle
History of "Perkin Warbeck."

These are not to express thy wit,
But to pronounce thy judgment fit,
In full-filled phrase, those times to raise,
When Perkin ran his wily ways.
Still, let the method of thy brain
From Error's touch and Envy's stain
Preserve thee free; that ever thy quill
Fair Truth may wet, and Fancy fill.
Thus Graces are with Muses met,
And practic critics on may fret:
For here thou hast produced a story
Which shall eclipse their future glory.
JOHN BROGRAVE, År.

To my faithful, no less deserving Friend, the Author of " Perkin Warbeck," this indebted oblation.

Perkin is rediviv'd by thy strong hand,
And crown'd a king of new; the vengeful wand
Of greatness is forgot; his execution
May rest unmention'd, and his birth's collusion
Lie buried in the story; but his fame
Thou hast eternis'd; made a crown his game.
His lofty spirit soars yet: had he been
Base in his enterprise, as was his sin
Conceiv'd, his title, doubtless, prov'd unjust,
Had, but for thee, been silenc'd in the dust.
GEORGE CRYMES, Miles.

Upon FORD's two Tragedies," Love's Sacrifice" and The Broken Heart."

Thou cheat'st us, Ford; mak'st one seem two by

art:

What is Love's Sacrifice, but The Broken Heart?

RICHARD CRASHAW.