JƲSTA HONORARIA: OR, FVNERAL RITES IN HONOR To the great MEMORIAL of my Deceased MASTER, The Right Honorable, Robert Earl of Essex and Ewe, Viscount Hereford, Lord Ferrers of Chartley, Bour­chier and Lovain, &c. Humbly Presented to all them that are Real Mourners at his FUNERAL,

By Daniel Evance Master of Arts: Sed Suss. Coll. Cam. and Ser­vant-Chaplin to his Honor.

— Post Fata superstes.

London, Printed for Edward Husband, Printer to the Honorable House of COMMONS.

The Licence.

SO the State orders, that which walks abroad
Must pass the Press by Licence; So these shou'd,
So wou'd these Papers, did they not receive
From the High Subject that Prerogative:
Let ESSEX priviledge the pomp and matter
Of His great Death into an Imprimatur.
The Printer that Prints HIM, may truly go
For one that Prints cum privilegio.
And that, which bears HIS NAME, may pass and be
A Copy Printed by Authority.

TO The most Fragrant Dust of my Deceased MASTER.

MOre fragrant then the bruised Pomander,
Such is the savor of thy richer Name,
As it diffuseth from the broken frame
Most sweetness in thy Reliques and remainder.
'Tis of thine own we offer unto Thee,
The Incense fuming from thy Memory.
More fragrant then the Beds where Spices breed,
Which softest winds have gently fann'd and galed,
And temperate beams by little have exhaled,
Until the boundless sweetness do exceed.
'Tis not for us — Our Flowers to bring and strow,
But that our Garlands on thy Herse may grow.
More fragrant then the Ayr, that moves about
The Arabian Bird, as she does fan the flame
Which in the Spices from her clappings came,
And with perfumes into her Urn goes out.
What Balm, or Odours can we pour on thee
In whom our offerings must Embalmed be?
Yet we could lave the Fountains in our head,
And gush forth Rivers from our flowing eyes,
And spare some Streams of Blood for Eligies
To melt the World with this, My Lord is dead.
Nor would we think our Obsequies mis-spent,
But that they can't make up THY MONUMENT.
Some (hastned by officious Piety)
Have crown'd themselves by Crowning of thy Herse,
Melting their hearts to Elegeick Verse.
And others would for tears of duty vye:
But when they think of weeping, they grow dry,
Stunn'd with the Muse of such an Elegy.
'Tis easie grief, that hath a vent to break
Out into sorrow at, or that can weep;
Or Laws in Mourning can distinctly keep;
The Heart is eased when the Tongue can speak.
But solemn sorrow is both dumb and dry;
The heart weeps inward, and not by the eye.
They are the Vulgar Rites, and Obsequies
Of Common Funerals, To weep in Verse,
And talk of drilling tears upon an Herse;
Such pratling weepers make dry Elegies.
Give me that grief which does not wet, but burn
And parch the shrivil'd heart into an Urn.
I have no watry Goddess to implore,
Nor Ghosts of Poets to disturb from sleep
To teach me how my Stops and Tones to keep;
The boundless passions of our hearts are more.
(Yet we scarse feel the loss of such a Treasure)
Then can be taught to keep or Time or Measure.
If all those Artist-Mourners, who had skill
To make the streams of Hallow'd passion flow
From Stones and Marble, were in action still;
Yea, could I hire them, and imploy them now,
They could not swell the tides of passion higher
Then my Lords Merits and my own desire.
At once: 'Tis not because thy Herse — a Shrine,
Or thy Effigies wants a Coronet,
Or Funerals go without their Banners set;
Nor yet, because I think so well of mine:
But that a Servants Obsequie might rest
Upon his Masters Herse, of Masters best.
Esse sui voluit Monumentum & pignus amoris, & pignus observantiae, DANIEL EVANCE.

JƲSTA HONORARIA: OR, FUNERAL RITES In Honor To the great Memorial of my Deceased MASTER, &c.

1. Ʋpon my Lords Sickness.
Being first only for four days Aguishly distem­pered, then fiercely assaulted with a Lethargy.

I.
ALthough the trumpet did but softly blow
At the first onset of my Lords Disease,
Yet to a loud Alarum it did grow,
And the fierce Charger would have no appease:
Death does but Face at first, but after Fate
Begins the Storm, no Quarter after that.
II.
Had not the issue told me the decree,
I could have wish'd, that Martial skill had bin
As quick and strong to foil this Enemy,
As in all Battels to stand out and win
As nimble to descry, prevent, depose
The Sratagems of Death, as of his Foes:
III.
Or that Physitians had had eyes to see
The secret trains of Death, which lay within
The Undermines of his close Destiny,
This sudden blow, it may be, had not bin:
But God, that orders by foreseeing, he
Orders the Seers, that they shall not see:
IV.
Yet I — But wishes will not win the thing;
Why should I wish Impossibilities?
A Kingdoms Vote would Vote him back agin,
If it were lawful to mount up our cryes.
Yea, could this Prisoner be redeemed forth,
The Ransom of three Kingdoms it were worth.
V.
So large a share this Marble shoulder bore
(The great Colosse of the Church and State)
That if he had been shaken, and no more,
We might have lost some Rafter-pins by that;
But how does Sions consecrated wall
Bow down and tremble at his sudden fall?
VI.
Both Church and State began to shake when he
Was scarse yet shaken with an Ague-fit;
How will the downfal of this Pillar be
An over-turning Earthquake unto it,
But that the hand that pulls down one can raise
Yet more Supporters to the sinking Bvys?
VII.
As first the gathering clouds did but begin
To cast a scarf upon this brighter Sun,
Our darkned Hemisphaere did then shut in
As if the day declin'd, and would have gone;
And now the Sun is set, we may have light
From greater Stars — But Day is turn'd to Night.
VIII.
Let Galen call it a Metathesis
When sickness runs into a Transmutation;
A few such sudden Changes more as this
Might quickly change the Frame of Church and Nation.
There was no Healing then; O let that hand
Which then deny'd the cure, now heal the Land!

2. Ʋpon my Lords unexpected Death
(Being in his Life of a firm and strong constitu­tion) and with one sudden fit taken away.

I.
I Am no Soldier, but some Soldiers say
Where Art and Nature do combine
To magazine
Their Skill and Strengh within one Line,
By sudden storms and batteries they may
Attempt to lose their men, not win the day.
II.
I'm no Physitian, but Physitians say,
Where God and Nature do agree
To fortifie
This little Isle of man in me,
Sickness may make her sierce assaults, and stay
Facing a day or two, and go away.
III.
I'm no Diviner, but Diviners prate,
If Stars do favor, they can tell
Infallible
When I shall be sick or well,
And as Nativities they calculate,
They'll undertake to Death to destinate:
IV.
But (call me what you will) thus much I know,
The strongest constitution may
In half a day
Like Snowy Mountains melt away.
Sickness unfelt, unseen, may softly go
Through hidden veins, and give a sudden blow.
V.
Lord, why do we on tottering reeds relye?
Princes are but a puff of breath,
Something beneath
The fainting Grass, that withereth.
O what a brittle piece of vanity
Is man, that does but fall asleep, and dye!
VI.
You proud Considers in the Stars, who know
And can foretel by their consents
Future events
Both on Kings and Parliaments,
Why was not this foretold us long ago
That England might be fenc'd for such a blow?
VII.
The Stars can never pry into Decrees,
And as for those, that pack a Spell
And think to tell
Contingences by Oracle,
The Wisemen are but Fools, their Tokens less
Then Folly, and their Knowledge Foolishness.
VIII.
And what if such a change on Earth as this
Should put the Stars besides their course,
And make divorce
Between Conjunctions in their force;
It seems, 'twas such a Destiny, as His
Which made your Cantings and Predictions miss.

3. Upon my Lords going to his Grave in peace, after all his hazardous adventures in the service of the KINGDOM.

I.
I Saw a Tree well spread, and mounted high,
The tow'ring Top-bows in the clouds did lie;
And under-branches to such thickness spread,
It might three Kingdoms well have sheltered;
Under the blessing of whose safer shade
Churches and States securely laid.
II.
I saw a storm (as black as night) approach,
Through which from darkest clouds bright day did flash
Like flaming Chasma's in that cloud of smoke
Which from the sulpherous tops of Aetna broke:
The Isles began to thunder, and there fell
Blood-Tempests on the Common-weal.
III.
I saw the Cedars of the Forrest shake,
The tallest Pines, and sturdiest Oaks did quake
Like tottering Reeds, which every breath of air
Tosseth to various wavings here and there:
Amongst the rest, some stoutly stood the shock
When others either bow'd or broke.
IV.
I saw the Tempest over; and that Tree,
Which fenced Kingdoms from the injury
Of Thunder-tempests, and unshaken stood
Like some great Oak within a ruin'd wood,
Or Bay Tree priviledg'd from the Thunder-stone,
In a still day did fall alone.
There needs no Oedipus to unravel this,
The Warrior went unto his Grave in peace.

4. My Lords Elegy.

SO Stars fall down from Heaven; the Sun goes out,
Mountains shrink down into the Vales about
In sudden Earthquakes; Brazen Pillars fall,
And Gods must have at last their Funeral:
But falling-Stars do never rise agin,
They're smother'd in the smoke they vanish in.
As the great light of Heaven goes out, the Sun
Makes no more day, after that day is done.
The Valleys swell not into Mountain-tops
After the Hill into the Valley drops.
The Brazen Standards of the World, that rot
To nothing, at their Ruines are forgot.
But ESSEX from his Funeral Urn does flame
To brighter glory, and renews his Name.
As Tapers in their going out do blaze,
And vanish in perfumes, so did HIS days
Go out in Honor, and his Savor went
From the Suns Orient to the Occident.
His Death brings in his Life, and makes his Fall
But the great Rise to his Memorial.
'Twas not (great Lord) for History to begin
To pen thy Life and Death, till all came in;
And now that all is done, thou dost not dye,
But only hasten to thine History:
Now men begin to write, and talk, and tell,
And weep what ESSEX did, while he was well.
'Twas ESSEX own'd the Standard for the State
When Princes frown'd him to a Trayters Fate.
'Twas ESSEX carry'd on the first Forlorn,
And gave his Life for those that are unborn:
ESSEX was Traytor General when few wou'd
High-Treason it for King and Countreys good.
Nothing but ESSEX fills the mouth of Fame,
And Parats learn to prate great ESSEX's Name.
His Acts (half-dead while he was living) be
In every tongue a running History.
Now Keynton is as fresh as Nazeby-field,
And Newbery and Gloster will not yield
Their Names to envious Oblivion,
But are as Victories but newly won.
I must not give by Items what came in
By greater Sums upon his conquering.
Some say — He sav'd the Church, and some the State,
And others, that he did but propagate
And breath his soul (while living) into them
Who will do, what he did, in stead of him.
But all say this of ESSEX (Foe and Friend)
ESSEX began the Work, and saw the end.
O for a [...] that HE
Surviving in Nobility might be:
Then High-born Blood would boil and froth agin
To be in action, angry at the Rains
Which check in Resolution, and would be
The first in forwardest activity.
Then Councel would begin, but quickly go
To Actings, and not long dispute, but do.
The Byases would down, and as the Sun
Keeps on his Line, so vertue would go on.
Then Honor, Life, and all would be forgot,
And nothing but the Kingdoms safety sought.
Then we should finde a spirit (at a dye)
To take up or to lay down Chivalry.
To be on Horse back for the Countreys good,
Or else on Wool-packs as the Countrey wou'd,
To do and suffer, and to bear away
The work before them till their dying day.
The Gown would conquer-on, and win at Home
What Armies leave abroad to overcome.
Then Heresie would be whipt and stript; and they,
Who mutiny by Schism, would not be
Without their Recompence; and Blasphemies
Would have Revenge from lesser Deities,
Then Englands Peace might spin, Scotland return,
And Ireland not to her last cyndars burn.
And when the work's done here, some would go on
And scale the prouder Walls of Babylon,
So would our Hopes (half-dead in HIM) revive,
And we should think our selves agin alive:
O for a [...] that HE
Surviving in Nobility might be.
But ESSEX is quite lost, till he be found
In some Inheritors, who can compound
With Heaven to have his vertues as his state,
And then a Phoenix may spring from THIS FATE.
Till then his Funerals I shall keep, and say,
They are not over until such a day.
Yet if there be a spark of that great flame
Alive in any breast (although his NAME
Be almost lost in him) It shall revive,
And ESSEX shall be said to be alive.
If there be COURAGE steel'd with CONSTANCY,
If there be COUNCEL mann'd with PRUDENCY,
If CANDOR mixed with HEROICKNES,
If COMITY embrace MAGNIFICENCE,
If THOUGHTS are LOW where best DESERTS are HIGH
If a well-temper'd LIBERALITY
Be Prodigally frugal; If there be
IUSTICE well ballanc'd by indifferency;
If HEART be SINGLE with a SINGLE EYE,
Acting forth VIGOR from INTEGRITY,
If HANDS be acting from a PUBLICK HEART,
In Loyalty the HIGHEST SUBJECTS part.
If these, and MORE, be scatter'd ONE by ONE,
And SINGLE found upon some Paragon,
SO MANY WORTHIES may make up the frame
Which Nature hath in HIS DEATH brake in twain.
Or if ALL THESE be found in ONE, 'tis HE
That must the PHOENIX of THIS PHOENIX be.
Now I could weep, and say no more; We do,
Counting his Worth, but sum our losses too,
And tell the world, One sullen blow did turn
This Mass and Heap of vertue to an Urn.
The Remedy, which oft asswageth grief,
Augments our sorrows, and obstructs relief.
'Twas Comfort that we could his virtues boast,
Till we were forc'd to say, ALL THIS is lost.
To say HE WAS all this — Is but to say,
HE IS NOT, and all this is swept away.
Thus does the Sun with pleasant rays begin
To break a cloud, and presently shut in.
Tell me no more what was by ESSEX done,
Nor reckon up the Victories he won;
Let me not see the Catalogue you call
The Acts and Monuments of that General.
Nor hear the boastings of those Sons of Pride
Who mounted on his History would ride
Throughout the World, and Trumpeting his Fame,
Blow louder but to get themselves a name.
Call him no more the Churches Champion,
Who girt himself for Reformation:
Tell me not what he did at home, abroad,
In Furs, in Armor for his Countreys good.
Cast up your gains, and then cast up your losses,
And tell me how the reckoning meets or crosses.
The Kingdom hath lost more by losing him,
Then they have got by ALL HIS Conquering.
Had ESSEX been (which is impossible)
A private loss, yet 't had been countable.
Jewels are Jewels in a private hand:
But Jewels of the Crown once lost, the Land
And Kingdom is the loser; So in his fall
Both Church and State was Epileptical:
Let Publike-losses then have publike-groans,
England, make thou his Lamentations.

5. Englands Lamentation.

2 Sam 3.38.
THis day — A great man fell in Israel,
This day — The Captain over thousands fell:
Isa. 3.1,2, &c.
The mighty man did fall, the man of War,
The Honorable, and the Counsellor;
The Judge, the Prudent and the Ancient fell,
The Staff bow'd down, bow'd down, and broke, and fell.
Who broke the Staff — The stay who took away
Jerusalems whole staff, and Judahs stay?
2 Sam. 1.19.
How came the beauty of Israel thus to fade?
How is the mighty fallen? Ah what made
Vers. 25.
The mighty fall, and yet the Battel over? —
Vers. 22.
That mighty man, whose Bow did still recover
The fat, and blood of those that fell; The fat
And blood of mighty men, and turned not?
His Bow ne'r turned back, nor his Sword come
Or from the slain, or mighty — empty home:
How is the mighty faln — Ah, what made
The mighty fall, and yet the Battel laid?
Vers. 20.
Ah let it not in Gath be spoken-on,
Nor publish'd in the streets of Askelon,
Least the glad Daughters of the Philistine
(Uncircumcised Daughters) should begin
To shout their triumphs, Laugh at Israels mean,
Vers. 24.
And make a Song of this — Her Beauty's gone:
But you who are the true and high-born breed,
The fairer Branches sprung from Jacobs seed —
Weep over Saul — Daughters of Israel —
Daughters of Israel — weep over Saul.
'Twas he, that cloathed you in Scarlet-wool,
And fed you with delights, till ye were full; —
Redeem'd you, when you were for Captives sold,
And put upon you Ornaments of Gold.
Weep over Saul — Daughters of Israel,
Daughters of Israel — weep over Saul.
Vers. 25.
O thou, that stood'st in thine high-places fast
Untouch'd, unslain, how didst thou fall at last!
Vers. 26.
We are distressed now, distress'd for thee;
How pleasant hast thou bin to us, to me?
Thy love to us was wonderful, Above
Passing the love of women, past their love:
Vers. 27.
How is the mighty faln? Ah, what made
The mighty fall, and yet the Battel laid!
2 Sam. 3.31,32,33.
Let Joab rend his cloathes, Let Joab mourn
For Abner, — and, Let all the people turn
Their clothes to Sack cloth — David's self will after
His Bier to Hebron — David mourn for Abner.
The Princes lift their voyces up, and weep,
The Princes weep at Abners grave, and keep
Vers. 36.
Their Lamentations over him, and we
Are glad to fee't, and weep at what we see.

6. My Lords Epitaph.

MArble, never blab thy trust,
Keep close the treasure of that Dust
Which is committed unto thee
To lock-up as a secresie,
Lest after Ages, as they may pass by
Make a stand here, and act Idolatry:
Tell not one Letter of his Name,
Though this Age should forget the fame;
If after Ages silent be,
Then let the Marble speak for me:
While in our hearts he does Embalmed lie,
Stones are dull Tables of his Memory.
Yet if the stones must weep and speak,
Or else the Marble too will break;
Say that thou art the MONUMENT
Both of KING and PARLIAMENT,
And that the first-great-Master of the Field
Not Conquer'd did himself thy Prisoner yield.
And if you will be blabbing, score
Two hundred Victories, and more:
And say you have the Dust, that stood
In all adventures, sound and good.
Then — write his Name at length, and so he'll be
As thou to him, a MONUMENT to thee.
Here lies ESSEX, and that's all
I have to shrine his Dust withal.
[...]
[...]

7. The humble Invitation of His Excellency Sir Tho: Fairfax to my Lords FUNERAL.

TWas ESSEX won the field, now FAIRFAX keeps it,
'Tis equal vertue for to keep, as get it
Then FAIRFAX trail his Funerals, and be
The Mourner-General at his Obsequie.
'Tis but the Copy of that Pomp, which we
At thine own Funerals shall give to THEE,
But that an ESSEX will be wanting then
To do for THEE what THOU maist do for HIM.

8. My Lords Anagram.
ESSEX, Anagr. ESSEX.

YOu that have time to shuffle and pack Names,
First to take-down, and then set up your frames;
To rowl and turn a Sisaphus his stone;
To do, and undo, and when all is done,
'Tis but a sowr-crackfac'd Anagram,
Which does but Nickname, or un-name the Name.
Rifle not here that sacred five
Which never was disturb'd alive.
Let ESSEX be nothing but ESSEX, he
Was always ESSEX, and MORE cannot be.
As firm and fast as his compacted Name,
Which will not be divided — So the frame
Of his resolved spirit did abide,
ESSEX he liv'd, and ESSEX too he dy'd;
ESSEX was ESSEX — still the same,
I'll never alter ESSEX's Name.

9. My Lords Motto.
VIRTVTIS COMES INVIDIA, Englished Envy is Vertues Companion.

Virtus invidiâ major. Virtutis Comes invidiâ.
HIgher then Envy — Great Lord — As thy Name
Concenterates all Virtue, yet the game
At which with molten-wings tir'd Envy flies,
And by contending with thy Virtue dyes;
Envy must have a flight at Honor, as
Mounted on silver-feather'd wings 't does pass:
But as rash Icarus attempts the Sun
With waxen wings, and falls as fondly down:
Thus Envy melts before so great a Star
As Virtue darts her beams pendicular.
House-keeping Curs may think to bark the Moon
Out of her course, and yet her course does run.
That great Goliah-flame of Heaven — the Sun
Is threatned by a Combination
Of duskish Mutiniers, in close Array
Battaliated to overturn the day:
But as the Gyant of the day begins
To shake himself, he scatters all their wings.
Neptune may rage at Rocks, and Aeolus blow
The great Alpeian frame to overthrow;
The watry Goddess of the air may think
To quench the flames of Aetna with her drink —
But Rocks will stand, and Mountains bear their head,
And Flames encrease the more they're watered:
So Honor built on Virtue stands the shock
Like a well-builded house upon a Rock.
'Twas bravely done (great Mountain of the State)
To build thy self so high, Commensurate
To Vertue, and to Envy — Who but you
Would have chose Vertue to have Envy too?
Some would be Mountains — but they fear the wind,
They wou'd fain be before, yet creep behinde.
They wou'd have Honor even to Envy, yet
The Envy, which true Virtue does beget
They are afraid of, Not because they fear
Envy so much, as to be Virtuous here.
O the base Honor of that Envy, when
Honor is only envyed by men!
'Tis thus, that Honorable Envy springs
VVhen Virtue Honor, Honor Envy brings:
Thus my great Master did bew-out his way
(Like Hannibal) thorow the Rocky bay
Of Opposition and Contempt, till HE
By Virtue melted stubborn Obloquy.
And as the Sun gets up, and drives the day
Before him (through the thickest Night) away,
So his high prowess (strong as light) did chace
All Fogs before the brightness of his face.
His Virtue bred him Honor (though high-born)
His virtuous Honor, Honorable scorn:
Such envy added to his Honor still,
Thus did the Epha of his Honor fill.
The Motto, and my Lord, how well
Are they upon the Paralel!
Virtue and Envy will agree
As undivided company:
And if ever they do meet,
They did on him each other greet.
He was an Earl of Virtue, so
He was an Earl of Envy too.
On this great Instance you may well say on,
ENVY IS VIRTUES fast. COMPANION.

10. Upon the Adjournings of my Lords FUNERAL.

YOu great Commanders of the Rites
And of the Pomp, and of the State
Of such a Funeral as this,
Why do our expectations wait?
Let us but see the shadow of my Lord,
Whither it do with our high thoughts accord?
What means your Funeral delays?
Is my Lord dead indeed, or no?
Or do you thus Adjourn, because
You are afraid to tell us so?
Yet let us know the worst, the worst behinde;
VVe long to see, what we're afraid to finde.
Heralds make haste, ye need not strive
And tamper with a VVaxen mold;
You cannot make my Lord alive,
Nor yet Effigies him in Gold.
Why are you fitting-on a Coronet
Upon that head on which a Crown is set?
Let Trumpets softest accents blow;
Let Banners teach the air to groan:
Let all your Train of Mourners go;
And your Artillery trail-on:
The greatest Pomp (when all is done) shall lye
VVithin our hearts, and in a melting eye.
FINIS.

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