Stand with this court-bred learned OVERBURIE,
In strife for an Ambassadour-ship? no, no,
His orbes held no such light: what, did he owe
The prophet malice for composing this,
This cynosure in neat poesis,
How good, and great men ought, and all, to chuse
A chaste, fit noble wife, and the abuse
Of strumpets friendly shadowing in the same,
Was this his fault? or doth there lye a flame
Yet in the embers not unrak't, for which
He dy'de so falsly? Heaven we doe beseech
Vnlocke this secret, and bring all to view,
That law may purge the bloud, lust made untrue.
W. S.
ELEGIE CONSECRATED TO THE MEMORY OF THE TRULY WORTHY AND LEARNED
AD not thy wrong like to a wound ill cur'd
Broke forth in death; I had not bin assur'd
Of griefe enough to finish what I write.
These lines, as those which do in cold bloud fight, Had come but faintly on; for ever he
That shrines a name within an elegie,
(Unlesse some neercr cause doe him aspire)
Kindles his bright flame at the funerall fire.
Since passion (after lessening her extent)
Is then more strong, and so more eloquent.
How powerfull is the hand of murther now!
Wast not enough to see his deare life bow
Beneath her hate? but crushing that faire frame,
Attempt the like on his unspotted fame!
O base revenge! more than inhumane fact!
Which (as the Romanes sometimes would enact
No doome for paricide, supposing none
Could ever so offend) the upright throne
Of Justice salves not: leaving that intent
Without a name, without a punishment.
Yet through thy wounded fame, as thorow these
Glasses which multiply the species,
We see thy vertues more; and they become
So many statues sleeping on thy tombe.
Wherein confinement new thou shalt endure, But so, as when to make a pearle more pure, We give it to a dove, in whose womb pent Some time, we have it forth most orient.
Such is thy luster now, that venom'd spight With her black soule dares not behold thy light, But banning it, a course begins to runne With those that curse the rising of the sunne. The poyson that works upwards now, shall strive To be thy faire fames true preservative. And witchcraft, that can maske the upper shine, With no one cloud shall blind a ray of thine. And as the Hebrewes in an obscure pit Their holy fire hid, not extinguish'd it,
And after-time, that brake their bondage chaine
Found it to fire their sacrifice againe :
So lay thy worth some while, but being found,
The Muses altars plentifull crown'd
With sweet perfumes, by it new kindled be,
And offer all to thy deare memory.
Nor have we lost thee long: thou art not gone, Nor canst descend into oblivion.
But twice the sun went round since thy soule fled,
And only that time men shall terme thee dead.
Hereafter (rais'd to life) thou still shalt have
An antidote against the silent grave.
UPON THE UNTIMELY DEATH OF SIR
THOMAS OVERBURIE.
F for to live be but a misery,
death good men gainé eternity,
'Twas friendly done in robbing thee of life,
To celebrate thy nuptials with thy wife;
So that his will no other aime intended,
But by exchange thy life should be amended:
Yet wert to compasse his insatiate lust,
He this last friendship tendred to thee: trust
Whiles he dishonor'd and defam'd may die,
Justice and Fame, shall crowne thy memorie.
B. G. medii Temp.
IN OBITUM INTEMPESTIVUM ET LACHRYMA.
BILEM ILLUSTRISSIMI EQUITIS
AURATI, THO. OVERBURI, MAGNÆ SPEI ET EXPECTATIONIS VIRI.
OWEVER windy mischiefe raise up high
HDarke thickning clouds, to powre upon us all
A tempest of foule rumours, which descry
Thy hard mis-hap and strange disastrous fall;
As if thy wounds were bleeding from that hand,
Which rather should have rais'd thee up to stand.
Yet shalt thou here survive in pittying fame,
In thy sweet wife, in these most acute lines,
In well reputed characters of name,
And vertues tombe, which all thine honour shrines:
In spight of envy, or the proudest hate,
That thus hath set opinion at debate.
But for mine owne part, sith it fals out so,
That death hath had her will; I now compare
It to a wanton hand, which at a throw
To breake a box of precious balme did dare:
With whose perfume, altho it was thus spild,
The house and commers by were better fild.
A MEMORIALL, OFFERED TO THAT MAN OF VERTUE, SIR THO. OVERBURY.
NCE dead and twice alive; Death could not frame
A death, whose sting could kill him in his fame.
He might have liv'd, had not the life which gave
Life to his life, betraid him to his grave.
If greatnesse could consist in being good,
His goodnesse did adde titles to his blood.
Onely unhappy in his lives last fate,
In that he liv'd so soone, to dye so late.
Alas, whereto shall men oppressed trust,
When innocence cannot protect the just?
His error was his fault, his truth his end,
No enemy his ruine, but his friend.
Cold friendship, where hot vowes are but a breath,
To guerdon poore simplicity with death:
Was never man, that felt the sense of griefe,
So Overburyed in a safe beliefe:
Beliefe? O cruell slaughter! times unbred
Will say, Who dies that is untimely dead,
By treachery, of lust, or by disgrace.
In friendship, 'twas but Overburies case:
Which shall not more commend his truth than prove
Their guilt, who were his opposites in love.
Rest happy man; and in thy spheare of awe
Behold how Justice swaies the sword of law
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