him in his strength; even then, when_ He
_That was the Master of his Art and Me
Most knowing_ Johnson (_proud to call him_ Sonne)
_In friendly Envy swore, He had out-done_
His very Selfe. _I knew him till he dyed;
And, at his dissolution, what a Tide
Of sorrow overwhelm'd the_ Stage; _which gave
Volleys of sighes to send him to his grave.
And grew distracted in most violent Fits
(For_ She _had lost the best part of her_ Wits.)
_In the first yeere, our famous_ Fletcher _fell,
Of good King_ Charles _who graced these_ Poems _well,
Being then in life of Action: But they dyed
Since the Kings absence; or were layd aside,
As is their_ Poet. _Now at the Report
Of the_ Kings _second comming to his Court,
The_ Bookes _creepe from the_ Presse _to Life, not_ Action,
_Crying unto the World, that no protraction
May hinder_ Sacred Majesty _to give_
Fletcher, _in them, leave on the_ Stage _to live.
Others may more in lofty Verses move;
I onely, thus, expresse my Truth and Love._

RIC. BROME.

Upon the Printing of Mr. JOHN FLETCHERS workes.

_What meanes this numerous Guard? or do we come
To file our Names or Verse upon the Tombe
Of_ Fletcher, _and by boldly making knowne
His Wit, betray the Nothing of our Owne?
For if we grant him dead, it is as true
Against our selves, No Wit, no Poet now;
Or if he be returnd from his coole shade,
To us, this Booke his Resurrection's made,
We bleed our selves to death, and but contrive
By our owne Epitaphs to shew him alive.
But let him live and let me prophesie,
As I goe Swan-like out, Our Peace is nigh;
A Balme unto the wounded Age I sing.
And nothing now is wanting but the King._

JA. SHIRLEY.

_THE STATIONER._

As after th' _Epilogue_ there comes some one
To tell _Spectators_ what shall next be shown;
So here, am I; but though I've toyld and vext,
'Cannot devise what to present 'ye next;
For, since ye saw no _Playes_ this Cloudy weather,
Here we have brought Ye our whole Stock together.
'Tis new and all these _Gentlemen_ attest
Under their hands 'tis Right, and of the Best;
_Thirty foure_ Witnesses (without my taske)
Y'have just so many _Playes_ (besides a _Maske_)
All good (I'me told) as have been _Read_ or _Playd_,
If this Booke faile, tis time to quit the Trade.