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To the Right Noble Lady, the Lady Rich.

To descant on thy name* as many doe,
(Sith it is fit t' expresse thine excellence)
I should, deere Lady! but allude unto
That which, with it compar'd, is indigence.
Yet to bee rich was to bee fortunate,

As all esteem'd; and yet though so thou art,
Thou wast much more than most unfortunate,
Though richly-well thou plaid'st that hapless part.
Thou did'st expresse what art could never show,
The soule's true griefe for losse of her love's soule;
Thine action speaking-passion made, but O!
It made thee subject to a jaile's controule.
But such a jaile-bird, heavenly nightingale !
For such a cause, sings best in greatest bale.

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Quippes for upstart newfangled Gentlewomen: or Glasse, to view the pride of vain glorious Women. Containing a pleasant Invective against the fantastical forreigne Toyes, daylie used in Women's apparell.

Imprinted at London by Richard Jhones, at the signe of the Rose and Crowne, neere to S. Andrewe's Church in Holborne, 1595.

4to. 7 leaves.

• Henry Constable, and other contemporary poets, were punningly playful on this Lady's name.

THE Wood-cut of a female figure in the costume of the time, with a fan of feathers in her hand, and a dog running before her, forms the frontispiece to this very scarce tract; which consists of a series of coarse raillery against the preposterous fashions of the Elizabethan reign. I extract a few particulars.

"When young whiskers fit for worke,
In no good sort will spend the day,
But be prophane, more than a Turke,
Intending nought but to be gaie:

If we were bent to praise our time,
Of force we must condemne this crime.

And when grave matrons, honest thought,
With light heeles trash will credite cracke,
And following after fashions nought,

Of name and fame will make a wracke:
Might love and lip a fault conceale,
Yet act and fact would filth reveale.

These flaming heades with staring haire,
These wyers turnde like hornes of ram,
These painted faces which they weare,
Can any tell from whence they came?
Don Sathan, lord of fained lies,
All these new fangles did devise.

These glittering caules of golden plate
Wherewith their heads are richlie dect,
Makes them to seeme an angel's mate
In judgment of the simple sect:

To peacockes I compare them right,
That glorieth in their feathers bright.

Were maskes for vailes to hide and holde,
As Christians did, and Turkes doe use,
To hide the face from wantons bolde,
Small cause then were at them to muse:
But, barring onely wind and sun,
Of verie pride they were begun.

But on each wight now are they seene,
The tallow-pale, the browning-bay,
The swarthy-blacke, the grassie-greene,
The pudding-red, the dapple-graie;

So might we judge them toyes aright,
To keepe sweet beautie still in plight.

Were fannes, and flappes of feathers, fond
To flit away the flisking flies,

As taile of mare that hangs on ground
When heat of summer doth arise;
The wit of women we might praise,
For finding out so great an ease.

But seeing they are still in hand

In house, in field, in church, in street;

In summer, winter, water, land,

In colde, in heate, in drie, in weet;

I judge they are for wives such tooles

As bables* are, in playes, for fooles.

Baubles: the mock sceptres of professional fools. See Mr. Douce's erudite Illustrations of Shakspeare, and of ancient Manners, vol. ii. The following notice may be added, from Wither's Furor Poeticus, 1660.

" though worse I speed than heretofore,
My peace thereby shall be disturb'd no more,
Than if I heard a drivelling Fool did swear--
His bable and bell'd cap I should not wear.”
2 L


To carrie all this pelfe and trash

Because their bodies are unfit,

Our wantons now in coaches dash

From house to house, from street to street.
Were they of slate, or were they lame,
To ride in coach they need not shame.

But being base, and sound in health,

They teach for what they coaches make;
Some think, perhaps, to shew their wealth;-
Nay, nay, in them they pennance take:
As poorer truls must ride in cartes,
So coaches are for prouder hearts.

The better sort, that modest are,

Whome garish pompe doth not infect ;

Of them dame Honour hath a care
With glorious fame that they be dekt:
Their praises will for aie remaine;
When bodies rot, shall vertue gaine."

Witte's Pilgrimage, by poetical Essaies, through a world of amorous sonnets, soule-passions, and other passages; divine, philosophicall, morall, poeticall, and politicall. By John Davies.

Jucunda vicissitudo rerum.

At London, printed for John Browne, and are to be sold at his shop in Saint Dunstane's churchyard in Fleet


(No date.) 4to. pp. 166.

THIS is first inscribed by that voluminous writer, John Davies of Hereford, (of whom see an account in Wood's Athena) to Philip Herbert, Earl of Montgomery and Baron of Shurland, &c. And "againe, to the same truelie noble Earle, and his most honorable other halfe, Sir James Haies, knight." Then follow verses entitled "The book to Gravitie: the author to his Muse:" and "of my selfe." To these succeed a motley collection of amatory sonnets, in number 104. Other sonnets upon other subjects, mostly of a graver cast, extend to 48. Much of the remainder of the volume is of a very mingled cast and lax character: but the latter portion of it is entitled "Other essayes upon more serious and sacred subjects." From these I extract an elegiac tribute, on a singular construction, and which bears the quaint title of

A Dump, upon the death of the most noble Henrie, late
Earle of Pembroke.

Death hath depriv'd me of my deerest friend:
My deerest friend is dead, and laid in grave :
In grave he rests, untill the world shall end:

The world shall end, and end shall all things have.
All things have end on earth, that nature wrought,
That nature wrought, shall unto dust be brought.

To dust be brought the worthies wights on ground,
On ground who lives, in ground consume he must;
Consume he must whom sorrow doth confound;
Sorrow doth confound the mind that care doth rust;
That care dcth rust, full soon care will devour,
Care will devour where care hath greatest power.

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