TO THE SOCIETY OF THE BEAUX ESPRITS. A Pindarick Poem.
By the Author of the late Satyr against Woman.
Licensed
March 5. 1686/7.
RO: L'ESTRANGE.
LONDON: Printed for Joseph Knight and Francis Saunders at the Blew Anchor in the Lower Walk of the New Exchange, 1687.
TO Fleetwood Sheppard Esq
SIR,
I Need not here the Servile Path pursue,
By doing what most
Dedicators do;
Lay out their
Patron's Vertues on a Stall,
Like Pedlars Ware, to please the Crowd withall,
And be despis'd by the Judicious Eye,
Which does but look, and loath, and pass regardless by:
Your Merit speaks itself; A
Poet's Care
In lofty Praise wou'd be superfluous there:
What need that Man in a Fool
's Coat be shown,
That has one very graceful of his own?
I wave that Subject then, your gen'rous Mind,
Wit, Judgment, Converse, and what else we find,
So Lov'd, Admir'd, and Courted by Mankind,
And humbly at your Feet this worthless Tribute lay,
I owe You much, and blush I can so little pay.
Sir,
I am, &c.
TO THE SOCIETY OF THE BEAUX ESPRITS. A Pindarick Poem.
I.
IF Poets when they undertake
A Glorious lofty
Theme,
That does some
Heroe's worth immortal make,
And fix it in the foremost rank of Fame,
So firm, 'tis hard to say, if Fate
Or that will bear the longer Date;
If they invoke some God to be
Propitious, and infuse
Life, Spirit, Warmth, and Vigor in the
Muse,
[Page 2]That through the whole may brightly shine,
And shew they're guided by a hand Divine;
What
Power, What
Deity,
You learn'd
Society,
Must be invok't by me!
'Tis
You, great Souls, 'tis
You,
That are my Theme must aid me too:
If your Assistance does my Labour bless,
I shall not doubt Success;
For while I write to Men,
That are themselves such Masters of the Pen,
Solid, Judicious, Wise,
That search the dark Retreats where Error lies,
And pluck off the Disguise;
While such I praise, Shame, if not Skill,
Will my Desire fulfil;
'Tis hard on such a
Subject to write ill.
II.
No tedious ways y'ave taken, no
Meander's trac'd;
Well knowing, they
That will be obstinate and go astray,
And leave the Easie for a Rugged way,
[Page]Are but the more remarkably disgrac'd,
As some dull
Chymists with much toil and pain,
Labour of Body and of Brain,
Wear out their wretched Days,
In solid Poverty and empty Praise;
And all to find (such Notions do they start,)
What neither is in
Nature nor in
Art.
In vain they strive that pathless Rock t'explore,
Where they have seen so many split before,
And lost on that inhospitable Shore.
Castles they still build in the Air;
Rapt with the Bliss
They shall possess
In their new Golden Worlds, the Lord knows where
But after all we see,
(In spite of their Stupidity,)
When their whole Life is in expectance past,
Drill'd on by hope, and flatter'd to the last,
Instead of the fam'd
Stone of which they're proud,
That Geugaw in whose Praise they've been so loud,
Meet the Resemblance only, and an empty Cloud.
III.
No; you did better fix your Aim,
And to the Honour of your Name,
At once atchieve a lasting Fame:
When first you did your Forces join,
When first you did your mingled Lustre twine,
In that bright
Orb in which you shine,
Ev'n Envy must allow,
You merited Applause almost as much as now.
When 'twas your pleasure to enrol
In your fam'd List some worthy Soul,
Not with the Major, but the General voice,
You still proceeded to the Choice;
For whom one recommended, all the rest
A like Esteem exprest,
And shot their friendly Souls into his Breast:
Which proves the Body's Purity,
From factious and from selfish Members free.
No Triflers you did admit,
Retaylers in the trade of Wit;
No Farce-Companions, that with awkard meen
Court every Punk they meet, and every where are seen.
[Page 5]No sordid Scribblers, whose unlicens'd Rhimes
Add to our growing Crimes,
And will, I fear, pluck down a Judgment on the Times.
This Fry was scorn'd:—To none
Was the great Favour shown,
But who brought equal Merit of their own;
Such as were worthy, and believ'd.
The Honor worthy they receiv'd.
That loath'd the crying Follies of the Age,
And the lewd Scenes of the declining Stage,
The Cowards calmness, and the Bully's rage,
The Statesmans Quibbles, and the Lawyers Wiles,
The Soldiers Braggs, and the Town-Strumpets Smiles,
The Fops gay dress that sets up for a
Beau;
With all that think they're Wits, and are not so.
These were the
Genii, these the Soul;
And such as these compose the whole.
IV.
Thus constituted, your bright Progress you begun,
And 'tis a wond'rous pace y'ave run:
[Page 6]For to that pitch of Glory y'are arriv'd,
As men of
Sense admire;
Yet you stop not, but still aspire,
More honorable still, as you grow longer-liv'd.
You make it not your business to pry
Into the dark-wrought snares of Policy,
(Made intricate by juggling Elves,
And is a Trap to catch themselves,)
Ne're vex or wonder at those Turns of Fate,
That make so many Knaves and Coxcombs great;
Does upstart
[...] raise,
Till they (like
Meteors,) blaze,
And make the lavish
Poets wanton in their Praise.
This styles 'em noble, and this just,
And tells how well they have discharg'd their Trust;
(Though they rais'd all their Store
By cheating of the Publick and the Poor,
As by Estates soon got w'are sure they must.
Another does their Eloquence approve,
As if their Tongues dropt from above;
And swear like
Orpheus's Harp they make the Forests move;
(And yet, to him that nicely marks,
A Dog keeps more Coherence when he barks.)
[Page 7]Thus do they flourish—but anon,
The storm of Fate comes on,
They're prov'd false Metal, and they must be gone.
And that which now appear'd so bright,
Has in a moment lost it's glaring Light;
And all the rest is long Oblivion, and eternal Night.
V.
Nor is your Time mispent in
Parchment Jar,
The Hellish Bustle of the
Bar,
Where the loud prattling
Tribe wage an eternal War;
A
War while there:—high Words are rais'd,
Their Pedigree and Virtues blaz'd;
That is the issue of a First-rate Clown,
And wore his Leathern Breeches up to Town:
This is a Pimp to Causes, such a Cheat,
He'd pawn his
Soul for a five shilling Treat.
That has a Conscience
Steel'd, and this a Face of
Brass,
And He, that looks so gravely, is an
Ass.
Yet when they next meet, they agree;
Who but dear
Jack? and
Billy, who but He?
Consult afresh, to raise their
Clients Strife
And make it last as long as Life:
[Page 8]And yet they know the
Law was meant
What's wrongful to redress,
To free the Poor and Innocent,
And make their sufferings less.
For
Law were Heavenly, if't were rightly us'd;
But best things grow the worst when they're abus'd:
That this is so, is plain;
For who e're was in Law, that had not Reason to complain?
How could
Grays-Inn, or how the
Temple rise,
(Such pompous Piles, as ev'n outbrave the Skies,
And seem a
Dwelling fit for
Dieties,)
If all the Cash which such a Charge sustain'd,
Had righteously been gain'd?
Let 'em then talk what they please,
Banter,
Buz, and lie for
Fees,
We see which way they draw;
And safely may assert
(And all Unprejudic'd will take our part,)
No man can be a thorow Knave if not well vers'd in
Law.
VI.
But as you shun, and hate
These
Caterpillars of the State,
[Page 9]That ravage on the Spring just as they please,
And leave the barren after-Corp to other Sciences;
So you laugh too at those
(For they deserve not Pity, but your Scorn,)
That madly run into the dangerous Noose,
And wilful Bondage before Freedom chuse,
Bondage so heavy to be born.
Such Brutes! They wou'd let all the Poor
Rot and perish at the door,
E're they'd relieve 'em with a single
Mite;
Yet spend
Estates to propagate their Spite:
Wou'd give a Million without grutch
To
Petifoggers, Rooks, and such,
Just for the dear delight to make another spend as much:
Yet think not what Fate will at last befall,
Or who stands waiting by to snap up all.
At the
Groom-Porters, so,
Iv'e seen some Fops impatient for the Throw,
Win their Three Hands and pay,
And still keep on their Play▪
Till between what is won and lost,
(Dame
Fortune, like a Ball at Tennis, tost,)
The Box has half the Cash engross't:
[Page 10]Still they push on, nor mind the impendent ill;
The
Purse will empty, as the
Box does fill.
And so too have I read
In living Lines, thô the fam'd Authors dead;
The
Frog and
Mouse were once at mortal strife,
And each in equal hazard of his Life;
The
Kyte who saw the vain Contest,
(And by the way,
These Tongue-Antagonists, like them, are Birds of Prey,)
To give a warning to the rest,
And make their senseless fewd a Jest,
Devours 'em both, ends the Dispute:
Dull Souls, whom such Examples can't confute.
VII.
Nor stop you here; The
Velvet-Quack,
That wears a Leash of
Lives upon his back,
Feels your
Resentment like the rest,
For him alike disgust exprest.
Nor does his grave Disguise,
(Which he affects to make us think he's wise,)
Preserve him from the
Notion of a
Cheat,
That grows by purging and by poysoning great.
[Page 11]How negligent they are too well we see,
And careful of our
Lives what need they be,
That both ways, live, or die, will have their
Fee?
By Indirection thus they raise their Store,
Keep their gay
Lacquey, Coach, and
Whore,
And
Fops of
Quality can do no more.
As for
Religion, what they have, they feign,
Tis not consistent with their way of Gain,
'Twou'd make 'em charitable Paths pursue,
Which they that will be Rich can never do.
Their Spawn, the
Drug-compounder too,
(Who,
Leach-like, cleave to the poor
Patient close,
And suck their
Purses full 'ere they break loose;)
VVith their damn'd, long, unconscionable
Bills,
Bring in as many Pounds as they deliver
Pills.
Thus
Fools, with
Villains wilfully complying,
Are made to pay for dying;
Nay some leave 'em large
Legacies by
Will,
And ev'n in Death admire their Murderers
Skill.
VIII.
Unhappy and preposterous
Man!
(For from thyself this
Ruin first began;)
[Page 12]Of all created Things
None are so curst as
Thee!
So curst by their Simplicity!
The feather'd and the four-foot kind,
VVithout those helps we boast to find,
Endure Heav'ns
Wrath, excessive
Heat and
Cold,
Yet grow, according to their
Natures, old:
Nor are among themselves at Strife,
How to abridge the little Span of
Life;
VVhich of itself, alas! is quickly gone,
And flies too fast to be push'd faster on.
But
Man, vain
Man, has made a thousand Keys,
To open that one Lock, which ends his Days.
Or if
Sword, Fire, the
Plague, and
Tempests fail,
They're not Quack-proof, He'l certainly prevail.
O for a VVestern VVind, that may
To the
Red Sea
These num'rous
Locusts bear,
A greater Curse than those of
Egypt were:
They but a while brought Desolation;
But these are fixt a standing Plague to scourge the sinful Nation.
IX.
No less do you despise
The dull
Astrologers gross Absurdities,
VVho through their
Telescopes pore on the
Skies,
To Calculate
Nativities,
And find out
Fools and
Womens Destinies:
When such a one may scape being Hang'd or Drown'd;
When
Spirits walk, where
Treasure may be found,
At
Peru, under Ground.
When
Comets do appear,
With swinging
Tails, and blazing
Hair,
To what part of the World they threaten
Plague and
War.
What all our senseless
Dreams import,
(Drest in a thousand various Shapes,
Centaurs, Chimaeras, Bulls and
Apes,)
When
Fancy is disposed her
Airyship to Sport.
And thus, with their
Twelve Houses and their
Schemes,
Run into more Ridiculous Extreames,
Than
Poets, Fools and
Madmen, in their
Dreams:
For how should they tell Fortunes, when 'tis known
They are so ignorant of their Own?
That know not what one Hour will produce here at Home?
Can those into
Fates dark Recesses see,
And find out what is to be?
That shall forget, (to prove how far they stray,)
What their own selves did Yesterday?
To tell what is to come, how dare they boast,
That can't retrieve the slightest Image
Memory has lost?
X.
In the same File with those, you do
The
wou'd-be-Virtuosi's Place,
Thô to speak Truth, they don't deserve the Grace.
Who is it, that can see
Their
Magazins of
Trumpery;
And how preposterously the're all employ'd,
And not, at the first view, be cloy'd?
Here one, that thinks he is no
Ass,
Has in his Magnifying-Glass
Stuck up a
Crab-Louse, and does pry
Upon't with such a heedful Eye,
You'd think some horrid Prodigy;
Or a new World were just upon Discovery!
[Page 15]Yet all the while shall have no other Aim,
Than just to see (as 'tis divulg'd by
Fame,)
If it be like the
Fish that bears the Name:
Then into their Extraction they enquire
And prove 'em
Cousin-Germans, if not nigher.
Another does to
Montpellier repair
To bring home bottled
Air;
Extremely good to let loose here;
A Pint enough to purify a
Shire.
A Third will send for
Water from the
Rhine,
Only to make Comparison between
The
Thames and That, which of the two's most light,
Or which will freeze the thickest in a Night.
Others aver, the
Mites in
Cheese
Live in a
Monarchy like
Bees;
Have Civil Laws and Magistrates,
Their Rise, their Periods and Fates,
Like other Human Pow'rs and States:
And by a strange peculiar Art,
Can hear 'em Sneeze, Discourse and Fart.
These
Men by right should be
Astrologers,
And hold Acquaintance with the
Stars:
Happy for doubting Man 'twou'd be,
For they that have such Ears, what is't they may not see?
[Page 16]Would serious Men that saw 'em labour thus,
And waste whole Years to be Ridiculous,
Wou'd such their Actions by right Reason scan,
They'd find no other Brute so dull as Man.
XI.
Nay ev'n
Philosophy is not exempt
From meriting Contempt:
'Tis true, its
Excellencies are
Above all other Learning far,
That but a
Glow-worm, this a
Star:
Yet 'tis not wholly priviledg'd from Faults,
And those employ my present Thoughts.
How many wild
Opinions have took Birth
From Man, that lumpish Son of Earth?
That blindly gropes on in the Dark,
For all their Works express,
The best of 'em but speak by guess.
No wonder they shoot wide, that cannot see the Mark.
Here one, the first and wisest, did not know
But that this mighty Frame was always as tis now,
And did on it's own Power depend,
As self-existent, and would never end.
[Page 17]Another (as if just wak'd from a Trance,
And seen the
Atoms in their Antick Dance;
These
Atoms which (he says,) all sorts of Union past,
Leap'd into Form, and made a World at last,)
Asserts 'twill perish (as it came,) by chance.
A Third, the Earth is fix'd, and all above,
Sun, Moon, and Stars for ever round it move:
Others, call this in doubt,
And say, the Earth is whirl'd about;
By a
Finger and a
Thumb at first set up,
And spun e're since just like a School-boys
Top;
While all the Heav'nly
Orbs of Light
Stand gazing on and wonder at the Sight!
Some that the
Moon's a World, and add withall
This Globe, on which we tread, this pondrous Ball,
(A fine Task to discuss,)
Is but a
Moon to
That, as
That to us.
XII.
No less contradictory are all
Their
Notions of the
Soul;
So hard, so difficultly solv'd,
And with so many wild Perplexities involv'd,
The more we unravel, w'are the less resolv'd:
[Page 18]So a benighted
Traveller that strays,
And comes to have, at once, his choice of many ways,
(For what is Human Wisdom but a
Maze?)
Stands reasoning with himself, and doubtfull long,
Chooses, and wanders further in the wrong;
As dark, and as abstruse is what they say
Of Mankind's final good,
As little understood:
Here one does place it, and another there;
And all the while, alas! they grasp but
Air:
For certain Happiness we ne're can know,
A
Jewel 'tis too glorious to be worn below.
How senseless, and how vain a thing is
Man!
That with his little Span,
Pretends the Height, and Depth, and Breadth of
Providence to Scan!
Attempts to grasp whole
Nature in his hand,
Whose smallest Part he ne're can understand!
From hence my
Muse with conscious awe retires,
And all She cannot comprehend, admires.
XIII.
Pardon me, generous
Souls, I have digrest too long;
Yet this Digression has not done you wrong:
[Page 19]For while I shew the Follies you despise,
The Lions skins that you pluck off, and find
What sordid Creatures lurk behind;
Cowards and Coxcombs, who in that disguise,
VVou'd be courageous thought, and wise;
VVhile this I tell, Unbyast Men will guess
By the vain Paths you shun,
In what a noble Track you run,
And by the Vice you hate, the Virtues you possess.
Your Virtues, which, by me,
If you assist, shall be
Deliver'd down to all Posterity!
Here, therefore, I again your Aid require,
That with fresh Spirit you'd the
Muse inspire;
That while through airy untrac'd ways I fly,
And nothing see but Sky,
I to your merit may a worthy Tribute bring,
And keep the towring
Pegasus on wing,
Till it has fixt your Name
Among the happiest Favorites of Fame:
From her Records ne're to be rac't,
Till the loud Trumpets general blast,
And Nature, Death, and Time, have breath'd their last.
XIV.
First, your
Religion shall be shown;
Thô
Zealots may, perhaps, think you have none.
All vain Disputes you do avoid;
Disputes, with which, of late, w'have been so cloy'd:
But chiefly those that tend
This Faith t'oppose, or That defend,
For such can never have an end:
For while there wants a measure to decide
The Right from VVrong, the Difference must abide.
True,
Scripture is sufficient, and wou'd do't,
But that, alas! is mute;
And this will wrest it one way, that another,
And knowing this, why keep they such a pother?
The Points in Question, I'le not here
Pretend to darken, or to clear,
But leave 'em to the holy wrangling Men,
Such
Jargon wou'd defile a
Poets Pen:
Yet this, without a Perspective, I see,
Their Interest, Prejudice, and Pride, will ne're let 'em agree;
Each day the difference grows more wild,
And all the Parties are resolv'd not to be reconcil'd
[Page 21]Thus, to their everlasting Shame,
They fix a Scandal on the
Christian Name,
And tarnish the bright Lustre of its (else unspotted) Fame.
'Tis this that makes the
Atheist flear and laugh,
And equally at all
Religion scoff;
For how, (they'l say,)
How can we chuse but go astray,
When ev'n our Guides themselves take each a different way?
And these damn those without reprieve,
For not believing what they can't believe?
XV.
But you,
Illustrious Souls, see this,
See all, and know that all's amiss,
And very wisely trace
The moderate Path, and keep the moderate Pace;
While violent Men, daz'd in their rash Career,
Fall from their Aim, and meet the Ills they fear.
But
Carrier-like, you cheerfully jogg on,
(Yet not so slow, to mire,
Nor yet so fast, to tire,)
And the Extreams of either side you shun.
And just as the kind Sun
[Page 22](That cheers you while he shines,)
Has chang'd the Shadows, and declines,
You I arrive safely at your happy Inn,
When others the long Journy but begin:
Lost and benighted, on they stray,
And perish in their Doubt, before 'tis Day.
In short,
Faiths necessary
Rules are few,
And you those
Rules pursue;
And a good Man has little else to do.
XVI.
Your Morals too with your Religion fit,
And both are suited to your Wit:
Your Wit, which does deserve immortal Praise,
A VVreath of Stars instead of Bays;
Your Wit, which can at once instruct and please,
And give, unfelt, the vitious Patient ease;
Discover his loose Deeds, and frantick Thoughts,
And laugh him to a loathing of his Fau'ts.
Your VVit, which, while y'are talking, those that hear
Could wish they were all Ear;
So eagerly they do each VVord devour!
So winning and surprizing is it's Power!
[Page 23]Not taken up on Trust, no plated Brass,
But current Coin that every where will pass;
From painful Learning, and Experience drain'd,
And not without much Toyle and Study gain'd.
No glaring
Meteor, that makes us gaze,
And spends itself all in a blaze;
But, like the Sun, a lasting source of light,
VVhich thô it must decline, 'tis but to rise more bright.
Your VVit! which never values Man the more
For VVealth and Power,
Or what his lewd Ambition does devour:
His Pride, Vain-glory, and his awful Port,
That meets so much servile regard at Court,
It justly damns, and makes a May-game sport.
No barren Jests, or Clinches ere from you take Birth,
'Tis Mirth to You to see Fools make it Mirth.
XVII.
VVhen met, with grave Discourse you first begin,
Chast, Moral, Learn'd and VVise,
Such as all useful Knowledge does comprize,
And ev'n from Kings might just Attention win.
[Page 24]Shew us how far w'have been misled,
Both by the Living and the Dead:
Free us from Prejudice and Lies,
Nonsense, Impossibilities,
And VVolves in Sheeps disguise,
With all the snares Malice and Zeal have laid,
By bringing our own
Reason to our Aid:
Our
Reason, still in danger try'd,
And always prov'd a faithful Guide:
Reason, the
Polar Star,
That does discover Happiness from far;
Straiten the crooked Path found by so few,
Contract the Space, and set all Heav'n in view.
A Pilot that can through Life's Ocean Steer,
As safe in Storms, as if the Skies were clear:
While those who stupidly believe,
And pin their Faith upon a
Zealot's Sleeve,
Are still with Doubts and killing Fears perplext,
This hour of one persuasion, none the next:
But
Reason, drest in
Adamantine Arms,
Does end the frightful
Charms;
All subtle Shifts descry,
With it's sharp-sighted
Eagles Eye,
Before whose pow'rful Rays, the gloomy
Phantoms fly.
XVIII.
VVhile thus you hold Discourse, the Gobblet's crown'd,
And twice or thrice does nimbly move around:
Care, that disturber of our Rest,
That grown habitual to the Breast,
And hardly ever leaves what it has once possest;
Ev'n that curst Fiend at such a Time takes wing,
You hardly think there's such a thing.
Yet nothing impious or profane,
Lewd, Ridiculous, or Vain;
Nothing is spoke, but what the
Nuns might hear,
VVere they much chaster than they are:
VVith
You Mirth's cloath'd in it's true Genuine Shape;
Not like an Ass, an Owl, or Ape,
But in the same Garb it was drest by Ben,
There's as much difference between Mirth as Men
And now you envy not ev'n Kings themselves,
Nor all the under Fry of Courtly
Elves;
Who, like the Moon, their borrow'd Lustre owe,
And
Tradesmen are the Suns that make 'em glitter so.
The Troubles of Mortality you view,
(Those num'rous, and it's Blessings few,)
[Page 26]The Evil that o're mankind brooding sits,
That fattens Fools, and starves the Wits:
What Fears and Jealousies are broach'd by Knaves,
Believ'd by Cowards, and by Slaves;
And since true Pleasure flits, and will not stay,
You this way take a Draught without allay;
And make the dull Fatigue of Life fly pleasantly away.
XIX.
What Honours then, you mighty Few,
Ought here to be conferr'd on You,
That make Life pleasant, and improve yourselves in knowledge too?
What Trophies to your
Fame must we erect?
And, O, what VVonders may we not expect,
Thô distant now, brought home within our view,
By Men so qualified as
you!
That, ev'n at your first setting out, can be
So worthy of a
History!
But that I know you scorn to raise
A Monument in your own praise,
I should presume to ask
Some One of you to undertake that Task;
[Page 27]For where alas! where else can there be found
A
Sprat, your Grandeur to resound?
VVhere else a
Cowley, in his Lofty Verse,
Your Glory to rehearse,
And to the Heav'nly Arch make the loud
Eccho bound?
Your Glory, which, like the fixt Star, wou'd shine,
And as propitious be
To all that want a Guide, as he,
Had this great Subject been adorn'd by any
Muse, but Mine.
FINIS.
A Catalogue of Poems and Plays, Printed for H. Herringman, and sold by Joseph Knight, and Francis Saunders.
In Folio.
- BEaumont & Fletchers Plays.
- Shakespear's Plays.
- Sir. William Davenant 's Plays.
- Earl of Orrery's 4 Plays.
- Sir Rob. Howard's 4 Plays.
- Mr. Cowley's Poems.
- Earl of Orrery's Poems on the
- Festivals of the Church.
- Mr. Killegrew's Plays.
- Mrs. Philips Poems and Plays.
In Quarto.
- Mr. Dryden's Plays in 2 vol. viz.
- Indian Emperor.
- Royal Martyr.
- Mock-Astrologer.
- Granada 2 parts.
- Sir Martin Marr-All.
- Marriage A-la-Mode.
- Love in a Nunnery.
- All for Love.
- Maiden-Queen.
- Wild Gallant.
- Rival-Ladies.
- Tempest, alter'd by him
- Amboyna.
- Aurenge Zebe.
- State of Innocence.
- Of Dramatick Poesie, an Essay.
By Mr. Witcherly.
- Love in a Wood.
- Gentleman Dancing-Master.
By Sir George Etheridge.
- She Wou'd if She Cou'd.
- Sir Foplin Flutter.
- Love in a Tub.
By Mr.
Shadwell.
- Sullen Lovers.
- Humorist.
- Psyche.
- Virtuoso.
- Royal Shepherdess.
- Epsom Wells.
- Libertine.
- Timon of Athens, altered by him.
By Sir Charles Sidly.
- Mulberry Garden.
By Several Persons.
- Adventures of Five Hours.
- Love in the Dark.
- The Usurper.
- The Coffee-House.
- The Roman Empress.
- The Mayor of Queenborough.
- The Womans Conquest.
- The Amazon Queen.
- Sir Francis Drake.
- Peleus and Thetis.
Poetry in Octavo.
- Lord Brooks Remains.
- Sir Robert Howard's Poems.
- Mr. Howard's British Princess.
- Esq Ayre's Lyric Poems, being Translations out of several Authors.
- Sir John Sucklin's Poems.
- Sir John Denham's Poems.
- Sir Richard Fanshaw's Pastor Fido.
- Mr. Waller's Poems.
- Dr. Donn's Poems.