ON, SHAKESPEARE, _and thy selfe did sit,
And sway'd in the Triumvirate of wit--
Yet what from_ JOHNSONS _oyle and sweat did flow,
Or what more easie nature did bestow
On_ SHAKESPEARES _gentler Muse, in thee full growne
Their Graces both appeare, yet so, that none
Can say here Nature ends, and Art begins
But mixt like th'Elemcnts, and borne like twins,
So interweav'd, so like, so much the same,
None this meere Nature, that meere Art can name:
'Twas this the Ancients meant, Nature and Skill
Are the two topps of their_ Pernassus _Hill_.

J. DENHAM.

Upon Mr. _John Fletcher's_ Playes.

Fletcher, _to thee, wee doe not only owe
All these good Playes, but those of others too:
Thy wit repeated, does support the Stage,
Credits the last and entertaines this age.
No Worthies form'd by any Muse but thine
Could purchase Robes to make themselves so fine:
What brave Commander is not proud to see
Thy brave_ Melantius _in his Gallantry,
Our greatest Ladyes love to see their scorne
Out done by Thine, in what themselves have worne:
Th'impatient Widow ere the yeare be done
Sees thy_ Aspasia _weeping in her Gowne:
I never yet the Tragick straine assay'd
Deterr'd by that inimitable_ Maid:
_And when I venture at the Comick stile
Thy_ Scornfull Lady _seemes to mock my toile:
Thus has thy Muse, at once, improv'd and marr'd
Our Sport in Playes, by rendring it too hard.
So when a sort of lusty Shepheards throw
The barre by turns, and none the rest outgoe
So farre, but that the best are measuring casts,
Their emulation and their pastime lasts;
But if some Brawny yeoman, of the guard
Step in and tosse the Axeltree a yard
Or more beyond the farthest Marke, the rest
Despairing stand, their sport is at the best._

EDW. WALLER.

To FLETCHER Reviv'd.

_How have I been Religious? what strange Good
Ha's scap't me that I never understood?
Have I Hell guarded_ Haeresie _o'rethrowne?
Heald wounded States? made Kings and Kingdomes one?
That_ Fate _should be so mercifull to me,
To let me live t'have said I have read thee.
Faire Star ascend! the Joy! the Life! the Light
Of this tempestuous Age, this darke worlds sight!
Oh from thy Crowne of Glory dart one flame
May strike a sacred Reverence, whilest thy Name
(Like holy_