Prefixed to this scarce and curious work is an engraved frontispiece, representing King Charles lying on the "Bed of Miserie," which is surrounded with thorns, his crown and sceptre falling from him, and a label issuing from his mouth, inscribed, "Patientia Coronat Miseriam." At the side of the bed are Prince Charles and the Princess Elizabeth, from the latter of whom issues another label, "Quis Miser ut Ego." And above is an angel presenting him with a crown, and the motto "Dabo tibi Coronam vitæ." The work is dedicated "To that Patronesse of Vertue, and most Illustrious Princesse Elizabeth, the sorrowfull Daughter to our late Martyr'd Soveraigne Charles, King of England, &c.," after which is a short address "To the Reader." The first poem, entitled "A Dreame," extends to the forty-third page, and is not without merit, as may be judged from the following

extract:

Methought I saw

A grieved King, whose very looks were Law.
He sigh'd as if his tender heart had taken

A farewell of his body, and forsaken

This lower world; his star-light eyes were fixt
Upon the face of Heav'n, his hands commixt.
His tongue was parsimonious, yet my eare
(That was attentive) could not prevaile to heare
This whisp'ring eccho: Oh! be pleas'd t'incline
Thy sacred eares! was ever grief like mine?
Was ever heart so sad? was ever any

So destitute of joy, that had so many

As I have had? though all be snatch'd from me,
Yet let me have an interest in thee.

Oh Heaven! and there he stop'd, as if his breath
Had stept aside to entertaine a death.

My soul was ravish'd, and the private dart
Of new-bred love, struck pity to my heart,

I could not hold, but silently bequeath

Some drops unto the ground, my soul did cleave
Unto his lips, for every word he spoke
Was ponderous, and would have easily broke
Th' obdurest heart; I turn'd away mine eye,
And suddenly methoughts I did espie
A sacrifice; which when I did behold
My bloud recoiled, and my heart grew cold;
I was transported, and methoughts the place
Whereon I stood, seem'd bloudy for a space :

I trembling, cast my wearied eyes about,
Thinking to finde my former object out,
But he was gone; and in his roome was plac'd
A many-headed monster, that disgrac'd
The very place: they vanish'd, then appear'd
A large-pretending rout, as well be-ear'd
As Balaam's Asse, methoughts they did excell
The Asse in eares, but could not speak so well.

After the poem of the "Dreame," there is a new title as follows: "An Elegie upon that never to be forgotten Charles the First, Late (but too soon Martyr'd) King of England, Scotland, France and Ireland. Who with unmoved Constance, lay'd downe His Life, t'exchange it, for a heav'nly Crowne.

Ian. 30. 1648.

In edibus Regum
Mors venit.

Printed in the Yeer, 1648."

And immediately after this there is another engraved print representing Charles on the scaffold in front of Whitehall, pointing to his coffin, the executioner in a mask being at his side, and from the mouth of the former a label inscribed, "Te Domine, non hæc, timeo." This print, and the engraved frontispiece, were not in the first edition which was published in 1648. The elegy is printed only on one side of the leaf, every alternate page being entirely black as emblematic of mourning. Another short quotation from this poem may not be unacceptable to the reader:

Thus having lay'd the burthen of their spight
Upon his head, they sent him from their sight;
But he (that was inspir'd by heav'n) did show
A countenance that did import their woe,
More then a sorrow for his death, his face

Was dy'd with honor, theirs, with foul disgrace,
His patience was their passions, and they found
His minde a kingdom, where his heart was crownd
With constant love: oh! that I could rehearse

His living vertues, with a living verse:
But now my Pen must leave him for a time,
And dwell upon the mountaines of that crime

Which they committed: Put a King to death!
Oh horrid action! what venomous breath

Pronounc'd that fatall sentence! may it live
To poyson Scorpions, and not dare to give
The least of sounds, to any humane eare.
Sure he was deaf himself, and could not heare
The cadence of his language; for the sound
Had been sufficient to inflict a wound

Within his marble heart; oh! such a deed

Stabbs Kingdoms to the hearts, and makes them bleed
Themselves to death; to lose so good a King

By such base means, will prove a viperous sting

To this detested Land.

At the end of the poem is an acrostic epitaph on "Charles King of England," which is followed by "An Elegy upon the Right Honorable, the Lord CAPELL, Baron of Hadham; Who was beheaded at Westminster, for maintaining the ancient and fundamentall Lawes of the Kingdom of England, March the 9. 1648." At the close of this is an acrostic epitaph upon the same; then "A Curse against the Enemies of Peace," and "The Author's Farewell to England." A list of errata and a sable leaf conclude the volume. It would seem that there was another impression of this second edition, as the title of the copy in the Bibl. Ang. Poet., No. 591, conclude thus: "Whereunto is added Englands Sonets. By John Quarles. The Second Edition. Printed in the Yeare 1649," which differs in the latter part from the present title. See a notice of this edition, with an extract from the elegy, in the Restituta, vol. i, p. 106.

John Quarles, the author of these poems, was the son of Francis, the poet, who wrote the Emblems, and other works, and was one of eighteen children by his wife Ursula. He received his education at Exeter College, Oxford, and, when only eighteen years of age, embarked in the cause of Charles I. at the siege of Oxford, and had, it is said, a captain's commission in the royal army during the period of the Civil Wars; but, on the decline of the king's fortunes, he retired to London in a necessitous condition, and maintained himself by writing and publishing books, inheriting his father's taste for poetry. Here he continued in a state of great poverty and destitution till he was carried away, along with many others, in the great plague in London in the year 1665. See an account of this writer, with a list of his works, in Wood's Ath. Oxon., vol. iii, p. 697, ed. Bliss. Compare also Bibl. Ang. Poet., p. 591, where a copy was marked at 37. 38. Southgate's copy, bound in Russia, gilt leaves, sold at Saunders's, in March 1818, for 21. 2s., and was bought by Lepard, probably for Mr. Strettell, whose copy,

No. 1175, bound in Russia, sold in 1820 for 17. 58. Boucher's, and was afterwards in the Bibl. Heber. bound.

The present copy was
It has since been re-

QUIPPES for Vpstart Newfangled Gentlewomen. - or, a Glasse to view the Pride of vain-glorious Women. Containing, a pleasant Inuectiue against the Fantastical Forreigne Toyes, daylie used in Womens apparell.

Imprinted at London by Richard Ihones, at, the signe of the Rose and Crowne, neere to S. Andrewes Church in Holburne. 1595. 4to, pp. 14.

The first leaf of this very curious and rare poem, or Sig. A 1, contains a woodcut frontispiece of a female figure habited in the costume of the time, with long-pointed stomacher, large ruff, full sleeves, and embroidered robe, holding a fan of feathers in her hand, and a little dog running before her, and above it the first portion of the title, "Quippes for Vpstart Newfangled Gentlewomen." The remainder of the title, together with the imprint, date, and the printer's device of a sweet-william with the motto "Heb Ddieu, Heb Ddim," are given on the next leaf. The poem is a severe and coarse invective against the absurd and ridiculous fashions which prevailed during the reign of Elizabeth, and in which, if we may judge from some of the portraits of her still in existence, she herself set a very striking example. These "newfangled" fashions are lashed by the author with much severity, whose satire against those of the fair sex who wear periwigs, starched ruffs, masks, fans, busks, hoops, aprons and corked heels, is indignant and highly sarcastic.

The poem is without any prefix, and consists of forty-nine stanzas of sixlines each, written with great coarseness and indelicacy, but with much satirical humour. Another edition of this work was published in 1596, and Mr. Collier has ascertained the author's name from a presentation copy of this second impression with the words Authore Stephen Gosson, in his own handwriting, written on the first leaf. This fact gives additional interest to the tract; Gosson, it is scarcely necessary to observe, being a distinguished writer in connexion with the morality, or rather immorality, of the

Elizabethan stage. Mr. Collier prepared a reprint of this poem for the Percy Society, but as it has been suppressed, our readers will probably not object to see an extract from it of some of the stanzas.

Those worsted stockes of brauest die,

and silken garters fring'd with gold:
These corked shooes to beare them hie,
makes them to trip it on the molde.
They mince it then with pace so strange
Like vntam'd heifers, when they range.

To carrie all this pelfe and trash,

because their bodies are vnfit,
Our wantons now in coaches dash,
from house to house, from street to street,
Were they of state, or were they lame,
To ride in coach they need not shame.

But being base, and sound in health,

they teach for what they coaches make: Some think perhaps to shew their wealth, nay, nay, in them they pennance take, As poorer truls, must ride in cartes, So coaches are for prouder heartes.

You sillie men, of simple sence,

what ioy haue you, olde-Cookes to be: Your owne deare flesh, thus to dispence

to please the glance of lusting eie.

That you should couch your meat in dish,
And others feele, it is no fish.

Of verie loue you them array

in siluer, golde, and iewels braue:
For silke and veluet still you pay,
so they be trimme, no cost you saue.
But thinke you such as ioy in these,
Will couet none, but you to please.

When they for gawdes, and toyes do wrangle,
pretending state and neighbours guise,
Then are they bent, to trap and tangle,
vnskilful braines, and heades vnwise:

I neuer yet saw, bayted hooke,

But fisher then for game did looke.

There is a notice of this poetical tract by Mr. Park in Restituta, vol. iii,