If Church and Court reply, 3 Tell potentates they live, Give potentates the lie. 4 Tell men of high condition, 5 Tell them that brave it most, They beg for more by spending, 6 Tell Zeal it lacks devotion, Tell Time it is but motion, Tell Flesh it is but dust; 7 Tell Age it daily wasteth, Tell Honour how it alters, And as they shall reply, Give every one the lie. 8 Tell Wit how much it wrangles 9 Tell Physic of her boldness, Tell Charity of coldness, 10 Tell Fortune of her blindness, And if they will reply, Then give them all the lie. 11 Tell Arts they have no soundness, Tell Schools they want profoundness, If Arts and Schools reply, Give Arts and Schools the lie. 12 Tell Faith it's fled the city, Tell how the country erreth, And if they do reply, Spare not to give the lie. 13 And when thou hast, as I Commanded thee, done blabbing, Although to give the lie Deserves no less than stabbing; Yet stab at thee who will, No stab the Soul can kill. SECOND PERIOD. FROM SPENSER TO DRYDEN. FRANCIS BEAUMONT. THIS remarkable man, from his intimate connexion with Fletcher, is better known as a dramatist than as a poet. He was the son of Judge Beaumont, and descended from an ancient family, which was settled at Grace Dieu in Leicestershire. He was born in 1585-86, and educated at Cambridge. Thence he passed to study in the Inner Temple, but seems to have preferred poetry and the drama to law. He was married to the daughter of Sir Henry Isley of Kent, who bore him two daughters. He died in his 30th year, and was buried March 9, 1615-16, in St Benedict's Chapel, Westminster Abbey. After his death, his brother published a collection of his miscellaneous pieces. We extract a few, of no little merit. His verses to Ben Jonson, written before their author came to London, and first appended to a play entitled 'Nice Valour,' are picturesque and interesting, as illustrating the period. TO BEN JONSON. The sun (which doth the greatest comfort bring It is our country's style) in this warm shine Than beer, good only for the sonnet's strain, Lie where he will, and make him write worse yet; By special Providence, keeps us from fights, For we do live more free than you; no hate, And gravest men will with his main house-jest |