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Streaming teares that never stint,
Weepe not, my Wanton, smile upon my knee,
The wanton smilde, father wept,
Fathers sorrow, fathers joy.
There is a simple neatness and melody in the following lines, not often to be met with in the poetry of this period.
When tender ewes brought home with evening sunne,
Wend to their foldes,
And to their holdes,
Upon a tree
There resteth he.
And chargd the fie
From thence to hie.
Yet seekes againe,
With moodie vaine
The seely flie,
Readie to die,
The eagle saw,
Be not in awe,
The following sprightly ballad is taken from his “Ciceronis Amor, or Tullies Love. 1616.” Mars in a fury against loves brightest queene,
Put on his helm, and tooke him to his launce,
And by heavens greatest gates he stoutly swore,
Cupid heard this, and he began to cry,
And wisht his mothers absence for a while.
Must it be Mars? with that she coynd a smile,
A fan of silver feathers in her hand,
And in a coach of Ebony she went,
And unto her lookes a lovely smile she sent.
He vowd repentance for his rash misdeed,
Blaming his choler that had causd his woe.
But chargd him not to threaten beautie so,
The lines which succeed are from Greene's "Never too late,” by which, as well as from the contents of the book, the author inculcates. the maxim, that it is never too late to repent.
With sweating browes I long have plowd the sand;
My seed was youth, my crop was endlesse care,
And time hath left experience to approove,
The silent thought of my repentant yeeres
That fill my head, have calld me home at last, Now love unmaskt a wanton wretch
appeares, Begot by guileful thoughts with over hast.
In prime of youth a rose, in age a weed,
Dead to delights, a foe to fond conceit,
Alied to wit by want and sorrow bought,
And love adew: to hasten to my end,
It is impossible not to lament with strong emotions of pity, that a man should perish in premature age, the victim of licentiousness and intemperance, who was capable of enforcing, with earnestness, such rules as these for the regulation of his conduct.
“ Let Gods worship be thy mornings worke, and his wisdome the direction of thy dayes labour.
Rise not without thankes, nor sleepe not without repentance.
Choose but a few friends, and try those;, for the flatterer speakes fairest.
If thy wife be wise, make her thy secretary; else locke thy thoughts in thy heart, for women are seldome silent.
If she be faire, be not jcalous; for suspition cures not womens follies.
If she be wise, wrong her not; for if thou lovest others she will loath thee.
Let thy childrens nurture be their richest portion: for wisdome is more precious than wealth.
Be not proude amongst thy poore neighbours; for a poore mans hate is perillous :
Nor too familiar with great men; for presumption winnes disdaine.”
I here take my leave of Robert Greene, and I confess, not without reluctance. I have been highly entertained with many of his performances, I feel a great respect for his talents, much disgust at his profligacy, but a sincere concern for his misfortunes.
NEXT to the miserable and wretched Greene, I do not know who can follow with greaier propriety than the man who knew him well, and who, perhaps, not altogether undeservedly, was, from principle, his determined and implacable adversary.
The contests, squibs and pamphlets, between Nash and Greene and Harvey, at one time