1. All that these mighty men of Milan got
By th'fport is, only that they'll need hereafter
Lefs cloth to their doublets, and no stockings;
For fome of them fhall wear a fingle arm
And wooden legs, limping their days out in
An hofpital,
1. How? An hofpital!
2. A road, a road; the highway is now prescrib'd
By ftate phyficians to decrepid foldiers,
Where they may feed on wholesome air.
Hofpitals and penfions are referv'd
For your maim'd mercer, and lazy fons of the shop,
That have been often crack'd, not on their crowns,
Like us, but in their credit.
2. And confumptive ufhers, that are decay'd
In their lady's fervice; a score of duckets
Shall purchase them a place, where they may sleep
Before the hofpital gate, till boys feek
Birds-nefts in their beards.
Sir W. Davenant's Love and Honour.
HUMILITY.
Take heed of over-weening, and compare
Thy peacock's feet with thy gay peacock's train :
Study the best and highest things that are;
But of thyself, an humble thought retain.
But as oft alchymifts do coiners prove,
So may a felf-defpifing get felf-love:
And then, as worst furfeits of beft meats be,
So is pride, iffu'd from humility.
Soar not too high to fall, but stoop to rise.
Maflinger's Duke of Milan.
Richly enamell'd with a modefty;
And tho' your lofty merit might fit crown'd
On Caucafus, or the Pyrenean mountains,
You chufe the humble valley; and had rather,
Grow a safe shrub below, than dare the winds
And be a cedar. Sir, you know there is not
Half fo much honour in the pilot's place,
As danger in the ftorm.
Randolph's Mufes Looking-Glass.
I fee, those who are lifted highest on
The hill of honour, are nearest to the
Blafts of envious fortune; whilft the low
And valley-fortunes are far more fecure.
Humble valleys thrive with their bofoms full
Of flow'rs, when hills melt with lightning, and rongh
Anger of the clouds.
Thomas Ford's Loves Labyrinth
Would I had trod the humble path, and made
My industry less ambitious; the fhrub
Securely grows, the tallest tree ftands most
In the wind: And thus we diftinguish the
Noble from the bafe: The noble find their
Lives and deaths ftill troublesome;
But humility doth fleep, whilft the storm
Grows hoarfe with fcolding.
Sir W. Davenant's Cruel Brother.
Trees that tallest grow, do take the deepest
Root; fo I muft fink first low in the earth,
And after climb up to the clouds: First, praise
Her mighty spirit; then, when the weeps,
Gather up her tears for fcatter'd pearl.
This difguis'd humility is
Both the fwift, and fafeft way to pride.
Sir W. Davenant's Albovine.
There are some that use
Humility to serve their pride, and feem
Humble upon their way, to be the prouder
At their wish'd journey's end.
HUNTING.
1 Huntsman, I charge thee tender well my hounds;
Brach, Merriman !— the poor cur is imbost;
And couple Clouder with the deep mouth'd Brach.
Saw'it thou not, boy, how Silver made it good
At the hedge-corner in the coldest fault?
I would not lofe the dog for twenty pounds.
2. Why, Bellman is as good as he, my lord s
He cry'd upon it at the meereft lofs,
And twice to-day pick'd out the dullest scent :
Truft me, I take him for the better dog.
1. Thou art a fool; if Eccha were as fleet,
I would efteem him worth a dozen fuch.
Shakespear's Taming of the Shrew
I was with Hercules and Cadmus, once,
When in a wood of Crete they bay'd the bear
With hounds of Sparta; never did I hear
Such gallant chiding: For befides the groves,
The skies, the fountains, ev'ry region near,
Seem'd all one mutual cry. I never heard
So mufical a difcord, fuch fweet thunder.
2. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind,
So flew'd, fo fanded, and their heads are hung
With ears that fweep away the morning dew ;
Crook-kneed, and dew-lapp'd, like Theffalian bulls;
Slow in purfuit, but match'd in mouth like bells,
Each under each. A cry more tuneable
Was never halloo'd to, nor cheer'd with horn,
In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Theffaly.
Shakespear's Midfummer-Night's dream.
This I'll promife you, a piece of venison,
A cup of wine, and fo forth, hunter's fare:
And if you please, we'll strike the flag ourselves,
Shall fill our dishes with his well-fed flesh.
And go with us, we'll bring you to a forest,
Where runs a lufty herd; among the which
There is a flag fuperior to the rest;
A ftately beaft, that when his fellows run,
He leads the race, and beats the fullen earth,
As tho he fcorn'd it, with his trampling hoofs,
Aloft he bears his head, and with his breaft
Like a huge bulwark counter-checks the wind:
And when he ftandeth ftill, he ftretcheth forth
His proud ambitious neck, as if he meant
To wound the firmament with forked horns.
Skakepear's Sir John Oldcastle.
Thou, in the winter, hunt'ft the flying hare,
More for thy exercise than fare;
While all, that follow, their glad ears apply
To the full greatness of the cry.
Perfeus, Caftor, Pollux, and the reft
Who were of hunters first, of men the best:
Whofe fhades do yet remain within yond groves,
Themfelves there fporting with their noblest loves.
Hunting it is the nobleft exercise,
Makes men laborious, active, wife,
Brings health, and doth the fpirits delight,
It helps the hearing, and the fight:
It teacheth arts that never flip
The memory, good horfemanfhip,
Search, fharpnefs, courage and defence,
And chafeth all ill habits thence;
Turn hunters then, agen,
But not of men ;
Follow his ample,
And juft example,
That hates all chace of malice, and of blood:
And ftudies only ways of good,
To keep foft peace in breath.
Man fhould not hunt mankind to death,
But ftrike the enemies of man;
Kill vices if you can:
They are your wildest beafts,
And when they thickest fall, you make the gods true
Men hunt hares to death for their sports, but the
Poor beafts die in earnest.
1. I pity these poor beafts,
Chapman's Widow's Tears
Thefe fylvan commoners, to fee what tasks
Our cov'tous forefters impofe on them,
Who not content with impoft of their breath,.
Poor harts, purfue them fmiling to their death.
2. 'Twas the end of their creation.
1. So was the end of ours to live in peace,
And not to tyrannize on harmless beasts;
But forefters, like images, fet forth
The tyranny of greatnefs without pity:
As they the deer, fo covetous wealth pursues
The trembling state of their inferiors :
And to clafp up the volume of their fins,
They drink their blood, and cloth them with their skins:
Then cease to press poor beafts with tyranny,
You love your lives; think they are loath to die.
Day's Ifle of Gulls. The foreft mufick is to hear the hounds Rend the thin air, and with a lufty cry Awake the drowfy eccho, and confound Their perfect language in a mingled found.
May a poor huntsman, with a merry heart,
A voice fhall make the forest ring about him,
Get leave to live among ye? True as fteel, boys;
That knows all chaces, and can watch all hours,
And, with my quarter-staff, though the devil bid stand,
Deal fuch an alms, fhall make him roar again :
Prick ye the fearful hare through cross-ways, fheep-
And force the crafty Reynard climb the quick-fets;
Rouze the lofty flag, and with my bell-horn
Ring him a knell, that all the woods shall mourn him,
Till in his funeral tears, he fall before me ?
The polecat, marten, and the rich-skinn'd lucern,
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