When Donne, and Beaumont dyed, an Epitaph Some men (I well remember) thought unsafe; And said they did presume to write, unlesse They could their teares in their expression dresse. But love makes me more bold, and telles me I In humble termes to vent my piety May safely dare; and reason thinks not fit, For which I lov'd, I now should feare that wit. Respect lookes like a bargaine, if confinde To rules precise; and is more just then kinde. If by a poiz'd and equall testament It turnes good-will, into a covenant; Must every present offer'd to a Prince Be just proportion'd to his eminence? Or ought my Elegy unjust be thought Because I cannot mourne thee as I ought? Such lawes as these, (if any be so bold) Ought those unskilfull but proud soules to hold, Who think they could and did, at a due rate Love thee; not mee, whose love was passionate, And hath decreed how ere the censure goe, Thus much, although but thus, to let men know. I doe admire no Comet did presage The mournfull period of thy wonder'd age; Or that no Sybill did thy death fore tell, Since that by it alone more ill befell The Laurell-God, then when the day was come Wherein his Delphick-Oracle was dumbe: In meaner wits that proverbe chance may hold (That they which are soon ripe are seldome old) But 'twas a poore one, and for thee unfit, Whose infancy might teach their best years wit; Whose talk was exemplary to their pains, And whose discourse was tutor to their streines; If thou wert serious, then the audience Heard Platoe's works in Tullies eloquence: If sad, the mourners knew no thrifty size In teares, but still cri'd out, oh lend more eyes. If merry, then the juyce of Comedy Soe sweetned every word, that we might see Each stander by having enough to doe To temper mirth, untill some friend could wooe Thee take the pains to write, that so that pressure Checking thy soules quick motions, some small leasure Might be obtain'd to make provision Of breath, against the next Scen's action. I could goe through thy works, which will survive The funerall of time; and gladly strive Beyond my power, to make that love appeare Which after death is best seen in a teare; But praising one, I should dispraise the rest, Since whatsoere thou didst, was still the best: Since then I am perswaded that in thee Wit at her acmie was, and wee shall see Posterity not daring to aspire To equalize, but only to admire Thee as their archetype; with thought of thee Henceforth I'le thus enrich my memory. While others count from Earth-quakes, and great frost; And say i' th' last deare yeare, 'twould thus much cost. My time-distinctions this shall be among, Since wits-decay, or Randolph's death, — so long. R. GOSTELOW. Mr.A. Oxon.
