Sun.
After his death our Theatres did make
Him in his own unequald Language speake:
And now when all the Muses out of their
Approved modesty silent appeare,
This Play of_ Fletchers _braves the envious light
As wonder of our eares once, now our sight.
Three and fourfold blest Poet, who the Lives
Of Poets, and of Theaters survives!
A Groome, or Ostler of some wit may bring
His Pegasus to the Castalian spring;
Boast he a race o're the Pharsalian plaine,
Or happy_ Tempe _valley dares maintaine:
Brag at one leape upon the double Cliffe
(Were it as high as monstrous Tennariffe)
Of farre-renown'd Parnassus he will get,
And there (t' amaze the World) confirme his state:
When our admired_ Fletcher _vaunts not ought,
And slighted everything he writ as naught:
While all our English wondring world (in's cause)
Made this great City eccho with applause.
Read him therefore all that can read, and those
That cannot learne, if y' are not Learnings foes,
And wilfully resolved to refuse
The gentle Raptures of this happy Muse.
From thy great constellation (noble Soule)
Looke on this Kingdome, suffer not the whole
Spirit of Poesie retire to Heaven,
But make us entertains what thou hast given.
Earthquakes and Thunder Diapasons make
The Seas vast roare, and irresistlesse shake
Of horrid winds, a sympathy compose;
So in these things there's musicke in the close:
And though they seem great Discords in our eares,
They are not so to them above the Spheares.
Granting these Musicke, how much sweeter's that_
Mnemosyne's _daughter's voyces doe create?
Since Heaven, and Earth, and Seas, and Ayre consent
To make an Harmony (the Instrument,
Their man agreeing selves) shall we refuse
The Musicke which the Deities doe use?_
Troys _ravisht_ Ganymed _doth sing to_ Jove,
_And_ Phoebus _selfe playes on his Lyre above.
The Cretan Gods, or glorious men, who will
Imitate right, must wonder at thy skill,
Best Poet of thy times, or he will prove
As mad as thy brave_ Memnon _was with love._

ASTON COKAINE, Baronet.

Upon the Works of BEAUMONT,
and FLETCHER.

_How_ Angels (_cloyster'd in our humane Cells_)
_Maintaine their parley,_ Beaumont-Fletcher _tels;
Whose strange unimitable Intercourse
Transcends all Rules, and flyes beyond the force
Of the most forward soules; all must submit
Untill they r