The Lives of the Most Famous English Poets (1687) by William Winstanley

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How now presumptuous Lad, think st thou that we
Will be disturb'd with this thy Infancy
Of Wit?--
Or does thy amorous Thoughts beget a flame,
(Beyond its merit) for to court the name
Of Poet; or is't common row a days
Such slender Wits dare claim such things as Bays? _&c._

* * * * *

_THOMAS JORDEN_.

Contemporary with him was _Thomas Jorden_, and of much like equal Fame;
indulging his Muse more to vulgar Fancies, then to the high flying wits
of those times, yet did he write three Plays, _viz._ _Mony's an Ass_;
and _The Walks of_ Islington _and_ Hogsden, Comedies; and _Fancys
Festivals_, a Mask.

* * * * *

_HUGH CROMPTON_.

He was born a Gentleman, and bred up a Scholar, but his Father not
leaving him Means enough to support the one, and the Times in that
Condition, that without Money Learning is little regarded; he therefore
betook him to a Gentile Employment, which his Learning had made him
capable to do; but the succession of a worse fate disemploying him, as
he himself saith in his Epistle to the Reader of his Book, entituled,
_Pierides, or the Muses Mount_, he betook him to his Pen, (that
Idleness might not sway) which in time produced a Volume of Poems,
which to give you a tast of the briskness of his Muse, I shall instance
in a few lines, in one or two of them.

When I remember what mine eyes have seen,
And what mine Ears have heard,
Concerning Muses too young and green;
And how they have been jear'd,
T' expose my own I am afear'd.

And yet this fear decreases, when I call
To my tempestuous mind,
How the strong loins of _Phoebus_ Children all,
Have faln by Censures mind:
And in their road what Rocks they find.

He went over afterwards into _Ireland_, where he continued for some
time; but whether he dyed there or no, I am not certain.

* * * * *

_EDMUND PRESTWICH_.

_Edmund Prestwich_, was one who deservedly cometh in as a Member of the
Noble Society of Poets, being the Author of an ingenious Comedy called
the _Hectors_, or _False Challenge_; as also _Hippolytus_ a Tragedy;
what ever he might have written besides, which may not have come to my
knowledge.

* * * * *

_PAGAN FISHER_.

_Paganus Piscator_, vulgarly _Fisher_, was a notable Undertaker in
Latin Verse, and had well deserved of his Country, had not lucre of
Gain and private Ambition over-swayed his Pen, to favour successful
Rebellion. He wrote in Latin his _Marston-Moor; A Gratulatory Ode of
Peace_; Englished afterwards by _Thomas Manley_, and other Latin
pieces, besides English ones, not a few, which (as we said) might have
been meriting, had not those worldly Considerations over-swayed the
Dictates of his own Conscience. But this his temporizing with the
Times, preferred him to be Poet Laureat (if that were any Preferment)
to that notorious Traytor _Oliver Cromwell_; to whom being Usurper, if
his Muse did homage, it must be considered (saith Mr. _Phillips_) that
Poets in all times have been inclinable to ingratiate themselves with
the highest in Power, by what Title so ever.

However it was, I have heard him often confess his Unhappiness therein:
and imparted to me a design he had, of committing to memory the
Monuments of the several Churches in _London_ and _Westminster_; not
only those mentioned by _Stow_ and _Weaver_, but also those who have
been erected since, which might have been of great use to Posterity,
had it been done before the great Conflagration of the Fire, thereby
preserving many Monuments, endangered since to be lost, but Death
interposing hindred him of his Design.

* * * * *

_EDWARD SHIRBURN_, Esq;

_Edward Shirburn_ (saith a learned Author) was intimately knowing as
well of the ancient Greek and Latin, as of the choicest of modern
Poets, both _Italian_, _French_, and _Spanish_; and in what he hath
elegantly and judiciously Translated either of the former or latter; in
the Translating of which he hath discovered a more pure Poetical Fancy,
than many others can justly pretend to in their Original Works. Nor was
his Genius confined only to Poetry, his Version of those Books of
_Manilius_, which relate meerly to Astronomy, is a very Noble Work,
being set forth with most exact Notes, and other learned and proper
Illustrations. Besides many other genuine Pieces which he wrote.

* * * * *

_JOHN QUARLES_.

_John Quarles_, Son to _Francis Quarles_, Esq; may be said to be born a
Poet, and that his Father's Genius was infused into him; nor was he
less Loyal in his Principles to his Prince, writing besides several
other Works, an Elegy on the Lord _Capell_, and _A Curse against the
Enemies of Peace_; of which I remember those were the two last lines.

That all the world may hear them hiss and cry,
Who loves no peace, in peace shall never die.

He was also addicted to Arms, as well as Arts, and, as I have been
informed, was a Captain in the King's Army, but then Loyalty suffering
an Eclipse, he came up to _London_, and continued there till the great
Sickness, which swept away of the Pestilence no fewer than 68586
persons, amongst whom this unfortunate Gentleman was one, tho to my
knowledge, to prevent it, he might have been kindly welcom to his
worthy Kinsman, Mr. _William Holgate_ of _Saffron-Walden_ in _Essex_,
but Fate had decreed it otherwise.

* * * * *

_JOHN MILTON_.

_John Milton_ was one, whose natural parts might deservedly give him a
place amongst the principal of our English Poets, having written two
Heroick Poems and a Tragedy; namely, _Paradice Lost_, _Paradice
Regain'd_, and _Sampson Agonista_; But his Fame is gone out like a
Candle in a Snuff, and his Memory will always stink, which might have
ever lived in honourable Repute, had not he been a notorious Traytor,
and most impiously and villanously bely'd that blessed Martyr King
_Charles_ the First.

* * * * *

_JOHN OGILBY_.

_John Ogilby_ was one, who from a late Initiation into Literature, made
such a Progress therein, as might well stile him to be the Prodigy of
his time, sending into the world so many large and learned Volumes, as
well in Verse as in Prose, as will make posterity much indebted to his
Memory. His Volumes in Prose were his _Atlas_, and other Geographical
Works, which gained him the Style and Office of the King's
Cosmographer. In Verse his Translations of _Homer_ and _Virgil_, done
to the Life, and adorned with most excellent Sculptures; but above all,
as composed _Propria_ _Minerva_; his Paraphrase upon _AEsop's_ Fables,
which for Ingenuity and Fancy, besides the Invention of new Fables, is
generally confest to have exceeded what ever hath been done before in
that kind. He also set forth King _Charles_ the Second his
Entertainment through _London_, when he went to his Coronation, with
most admirable Cuts of the several Pageants as he passed through, and
Explanations upon them. And that which added a great grace to his
Works, he printed them all on special good Paper, and had them printed
on very good Letter.

* * * * *

Sir _RICHARD FANSHAW_.

This worthy Gentleman, one of _Apollo's_ chiefest Sons, was Secretary
to King _Charles_ the Second, when Prince of _Wales_, and after his
Restoration, his Embassadour to _Spain_, where he died. His Employments
were such, as one would think he should have had no time for Poetical
Diversions, yet at leisure times he Translated _Guarini's Pastor Fido_
into English Verse, and _Spencer's Shepherds Callendar_ into Latin
Verse.

* * * * *

_ROGER BOILE_, Lord _Broghil_,
Earl of _Orrery_.

This Noble Person, the credit of the _Irish_ Nobility for Wit and
ingenious Parts, and who had the command of a smooth Stile, both in
Prose and Verse; in which last he hath written several Dramatick
Histories, as _Mustapha_, _Edward_ the Third, _Henry_ the Fifth, and
_Tryphon_, all of them with good success and applause, as writing after
the French way of Rhyme, now of late very much in Fashion.

* * * * *

_THOMAS HOBBS_ of _Malmsbury_.

This noted Person, who gave occasion for so many Pens to band against
him, is of the more consideration, for what he hath either judged or
writ in Poetry; but his _Leviathan_, which he wrote in Prose, caused
the Pen of a no less than a learned Bishop to write against him. He
wrote a Preface to _Davenant's Gondibert_, where no wonder if
Complement and friendly Compliance do a little byass and over-sway
Judgment. His Latin Poem _De Mirabilibus Pexi_, wanteth not due
Commendation. After many bustles in the world, he sequestred himself
wholly to _Malmsbury_, where he died better inform'd (as I have heard)
of the Deity, than in the former part of his life he seemeth to have
been.

* * * * *

Earl of _ROCHESTER_.

This Earl for Poetical Wit, was accounted the chief of his time; his
Numbers flowing with so smooth and accute a Strain, that had they been
all confined within the bounds of Modesty, we might well affirm they
were unparallel'd; yet was not his Muse altogether so loose, but that
with his Mirth he mixed Seriousness, and had a knack at once to tickle
the Fancy, and inform the Judgement. Take a taste of the fluency of his
Muse, in the Poem which he wrote _in Defence of Satyr_.

When _Shakespeare_, _Johnson_, _Fletcher_ rul'd the Stage,
They took so bold a freedom with the Age,
That there was scarce a Knave, or Fool in Town,
Of any note, but had his Picture shown;
And (without doubt) tho some it may offend.
Nothing helps more than Satyr, to amend
Ill Manners, or is trulier Vertues Friend.
Princes may Laws ordain, Priests gravely preach,
But Poets most successfully will teach.
For as the Passing-Bell frights from his meat
The greedy Sick-man, that too much wou'd eat;
So when a Vice ridiculous is made,
Our Neighbours Shame keeps us from growing bad.
But wholsom Remedies few Palats please,
Men rather love what flatters their Disease.

Pimps, Parasites, Buffoons, and all the Crew
That under Friendship's name weak man undo;
Find their false service kindlier understood,
Than such as tell bold Truths to do us good.
Look where you will, and you shall hardly find
A man without some sickness of the Mind.
In vain we wise wou'd seem, while every Lust
Whisks us about, as Whirlwinds do the Dust.

Here for some needless gain a Wretch is hurld
From Pole to Pole, and slav'd about the World;
While the reward of all his pains and cares,
Ends in that despicable thing, his Heir.

There a vain Fop mortgages all his Land
To buy that gaudy Play-thing, a Command;
To ride a Cock-horse, wear a Scarf at's ----
And play the Pudding in a _May-pole Farce_.

Here one, whom God to make a Fool thought fit,
In spight of Providence, will be a Wit:
But wanting strength t'uphold his ill made choice,
Sets up with Lewdness, Blasphemy, and Noise.

There at his Mistress feet a Lover lies,
And for a Tawdry painted Baby dies;
Falls on his knees, adores and is afraid
Of the vain Idol he himself has made.
These, and a thousand Fools unmention'd here,
Hate Poets all, because they Poets fear.
Take heed (they cry) yonder mad Dog will bite,
He cares not whom he falls on in his fit:
Come but in's way, and strait a new _Lampoon_
Shall spread your mangled fame about the Town

This Earl died in the Flower of his Age, and though his Life might be
somewhat Extravagant, yet he is said to have dyed Penitently; and to
have made a very good End.

* * * * *

Mr. _THOMAS FLATMAN_.

Mr. _Thomas Flatman_, a Gentleman once of the middle Temple, of
Extraordinary Parts, equally ingenious in the two Noble Faculties of
Painting and Poetry; as by the several choice Pieces that have been
seen of his Pourtraying and Limning, and by his Book of Poems, which
came out about Fourteen or Fifteen Years ago, sufficiently appeareth:
The so much Celebrated Song of the Troubles of Marriage, is ascribed to
him.

Like a Dog with a Bottle tyed close to his Taile,
Like a Tory in a Bog, or a Thief in a Jail, _&c._

* * * * *

_MARTIN LUELLIN_.

This Gentleman was bred up a Student in _Christ-Church_ in _Oxford_;
where he addicted his Mind to the sweet Delights of Poetry, writing an
Ingenious Poem, entituled, _Men Miracles_, which came forth into the
World with great applause. The times being then when there was not only
_Cobling Preaching_, but _Preaching Coblers_; he followed the practice
of Physick, and whether he be yet living is to me unknown.

* * * * *

_EDMOND FAIRFAX_.

_Edmond Fairfax_, a most judicious, elegant, and approved Poet, and who
we should have remembred before: But better out of due place, than not
at all. This judicious Poet Translated that most exquisite Poem of
_Torquato Tasso_, the Prince of _Italian_ Heroick Poets, which for the
Exactness of his Version, is judged by some not inferior to the
Original it self. He also wrote some other things of his own Genius,
which have passed in the World with a general applause.

* * * * *

_HENRY KING_ Bishop of _Chichester_.

This Reverend Prelate, a great lover of Musick, Poetry, and other
ingenious Arts; amongst his other graver Studies, had some Excursions
into those pleasing Delights of Poetry; and as he was of an Obliging
Conversation for his Wit and Fancy; so was he also very Grave and Pious
in his Writings; Witness his Printed Sermons on the Lords Prayer, and
others which he Preached on several Occasions. His Father was _John
King_, Bishop of _London_; one full fraught with all Episcopal
Qualities; who died _Anno_ 1618. and was Buried in the Quire of St.
_Paul's_, with the plain Epitaph of _Resurgam_: But since a prime Wit
did enlarge thereon, which for the Elegancy of it, I cannot but commit
it to Posterity.

Sad Relique of a blessed Soul, whose Trust
We Sealed up in this religious Dust.
O do not thy low Exequies suspect,
As the cheap Arguments of our neglect.
Twas a commanded Duty that thy Grave
As little Pride as thou thy self should have.
Therefore thy Covering is an humble Stone,
And but a Word[A] for thy Inscription.
When those that in the same Earth Neighbour thee,
Have each his Chronicle and Pedigree.
They have their waving Penons, and their Flags,
Of Matches and Alliance formal Brags.
When thou (although from Ancestors thou came,
Old as the Heptarchy, great as thy Name;)
Sleepest there inshrin'd in thy admired Parts,
And hast no Heraldry but thy Deserts.
Yet let not them their prouder Marbles boast,
For they rest with less Honour though more Cost.
Go search the World, and with your Mattock wound,
The groaning Bosom of the patient Ground:
Dig from the hidden Veins of her dark Womb,
All that is rare and precious for a Tomb.
Yet when much Treasure, and more time is spent,
You must grant his the Nobler Monument;
Whose Faith stands o're him for a Hearse, and hath
The _Resurrection_ for his _Epitaph_.

[Footnote A: _Resurgam_]

This worthy Prelate was born in the same County, Town, House, and
Chamber with his Father; Namely, at _Warn hall_ nigh _Tame_ in
_Buckingham-shire_, and was Bred up at _Christ-Church_ in _Oxford_. in
_Anno_ 1641. when Episcopacy was beheld by many in a deep
_Consumption_, and hoped by others that it would prove Mortal. To cure
this, it was conceived the most probable Cordial to prefer Persons into
that Order, not only unblameable for their Life, and eminent for their
Learning; but also generally, beloved, by all disegaged People; and
amongst these, King _Charles_ advanced this our Doctor, Bishop of
_Chichester_.

But all would not do, their Innocency was so far from stopping the
Mouth of Malice; that Malice had almost swallowed them down her Throat.
Yet did he live to see the Restitution of his Order, live a most
religious Life, and at leisure times Composed his generally admired and
approved Version of _Davids_ Psalms into _English_ Meetre.

* * * * *

_THOMAS MANLEY_.

_Thomas Manley_ was (saith my Author) one of the Croud of Poetical
writers of the late King's Time. He wrote among other things the
History of _Job_ in verse; and Translated into _English_, _Pagan
Father_ his _Congratulatory Ode of Peace_.

* * * * *

Mr. _LEWYS GRIFFIN_.

He was born (as he informed me himself) in _Rutland shire_, and bred up
in the University of _Cambridge_; where proving an Excellent Preacher,
he was after some time preferred to be a Minister of St. _George's_
Church in _Southwark_; where being outed for Marrying two Sisters
without their Friends Consent, He was afterwards beneficed at
_Colchester_ in _Essex_; where he continued all the time during a sore
Pestilence raged there. He wrote a Book of _Essays and Characters_, an
excellent Piece; also _The Doctrine of the Ass_, of which I remember
these two lines.

Devils pretences always were Divine,
A Knave may have an Angel for a Sign.

He wrote also a Book called _The Presbyterian Bramble_; with several
other Pieces, in Defence of the King and the Church. Now to shew you
the Acuteness of his Wit, I will give you an Instance: The first year
that _Poor Robin_'s Almanack came forth (about Six and Twenty Years
ago) there was cut for it a Brass Plate; having on one side of it the
Pictures of King _Charles_ the First, the Earl of _Stafford_, the
Arch-Bishop of _Canterbury_, the Earl of _Darby_, the Lord _Capel_, and
Dr. _Hewit_; all six adorned with Wreaths of Lawrel. On the other side
was, _Oliver Cromwell_, _Bradshaw_, _Ireton_, _Scot_, _Harrison_, and
_Hugh Peters_, hanging in Halters: Betwixt which was placed the Earl of
_Essex_, and Mr. _Christopher Love_; upon which plate he made these
Verses.

Bless us, what have we here! What sundry Shapes
Salute our Eyes! have Martyrs too their Apes?
Sure 'tis the War of Angels, for you'd Swear
That here stood _Michael_, and the _Dragon_ there.
_Tredescan_ is out vy'd, for we engage
Both _Heaven_ and _Hell_ in an Octavo Page.
_Martyrs_ and _Traytors_, rallied six to six,
Half fled unto _Olimpus_, half to _Styx_.
Joyn'd with two Neuters, some Condemn, some Praise,
They hang betwixt the _Halters_ and the _Bayes_;
For 'twixt _Nolls_ Torment, and Great _Charles's_ Glory,
There, there's the _Presbyterian_ purgatory.

He died (as I am informed) at _Colcester_, about the Year of our Lord
1670.

* * * * *

_JOHN DAUNCEY_.

_John Dauncey_, a true Son of _Apollo_, and _Bacchus_; was one who had
an Excellent Command of his Pen, a fluent Stile, and quick Invention:
nor did any thing come amiss to his undertaking. He wrote a compleat
History of the late times; a Chronicle of the Kingdom of _Portugal_;
the _English Lovers_, a Romance; which for Language and Contrivance,
comes not short of either of the best of French or Spanish. He
Translated a Tragi Comedy out of French, called _Nichomede_, equal in
English to the French Original; besides several other things, too long
to recite. His _English Lovers_ was Commended by divers of sound
Judgment; amongst others, Mr. _Lewis Griffin_, our forementioned Poet,
made these verses in commendations of it.

Rich Soul of Wit and Language, thy high strains
So plunge and puzzle unrefined brains;
That their Illiterate Spirits do not know,
How much to thy Ingenious Pen they owe,
Should my presumptuous Muse attempt to raise
Trophies to thee, she might as well go blaze
Bright Planets with base Colours, or display
The Worlds Creation in a Puppet-Play.
Let this suffice, what Calumnies may chance,
To blur thy Fame, they spring from Ignorance.

When _Old Orpheus_ drew the Beasts along,
By sweet Rhetorick of his learned Tongue,
'Twas deafness made the Adder sin; and this
Caus'd him, who should have hum'd the Poet, hiss.

* * * * *

_RICHARD HEAD_.

_Richard Head_, the Noted Author of the _English Rogue_, was a
Ministers Son, born in _Ireland_, whose Father was killed in that
horrid Rebellion in 1641. Whereupon his Mother with this her Son came
into _England_; and he having been trained up in Learning, was by the
help of some Friends, for some little time brought up in the University
of _Oxford_, in the same Colledge wherein his Father had formerly been
a Student. But means falling short, he was taken away from thence, and
bound Apprentice to a Latin Bookseller in _London_; attaining to a good
Proficiency in that Trade. But his Genius being addicted to Poetry, and
having _Venus_ for his Horoscope, e're his time were fully out, he
wrote a Piece called _Venus Cabinet Unlock'd_: Afterwards he married,
and set up for himself: But being addicted to play, a Mans Estate then
runs in _Hazard_, (for indeed that was his Game) until he had almost
thrown his Shop away. Then he betook himself to _Ireland_, his Native
Country; where he composed his _Hic & Ubique_, a noted Comedy; and
which gained him a general Esteem for the worth thereof. And coming
over into _England_, had it Printed, dedicating it to the then Duke of
_Monmouth_; But receiving no great Incouragement from his Patron, he
resolved to settle himself in the World, and to that purpose, with his
Wife took a House in _Queens-Head Alley_, near _Pater-Noster-Row_; and
for a while followed his Business, so that contrary to the Nature of a
Poet, his Pockets began to be well lined with Money: But being
bewitched to that accursed vice of Play, it went out by handfuls, as it
came in piece by piece. And now he is to seek again in the World,
whereupon he betook him to his Pen; and wrote the first part of the
_English Rogue_: which being too much smutty, would not be Licensed, so
that he was fain to refine it, and then it passed stamp. At the coming
forth of this first part, I being with him at three Cup Tavern in
_Holborn_, drinking over a glass of _Rhenish_, made these verses upon
it.

What _Gusman_, _Buscon_, _Francion_, _Rablais_ writ,
I once applauded for most excellent Wit;
But reading thee, and thy rich Fancies store,
I now condemn what I admir'd before.
Henceforth Translations pack away, be gone,
No Rogue so well-writ as the _English_ one.

There was afterwards three more parts added to it by him, and Mr.
_Kirkman_ with a promise of a fifth, which never came out.

He wrote several other Books besides, as _The art of Whedling_; _The
Floating Island_; or a Voyage from _Lambethania to Ramalia_; _A
discovery of O Brazil_; _Jacksons Recantation_, _The Red Sea_, &c.
Amongst others, he had a great Fancy in Bandying against Dr. _Wild_;
(although I must confess therein over Matcht) yet fell he upon him
tooth and nail in Answer to his Letter directed to his Friend Mr.
_J.J._ upon Occasion of his Majesties Declaration for Liberty of
Conscience; concluding in this manner.

Thus Sir you have my Story, but am Sorry
(_Taunton_ excuse) it is no better for ye,
However read it, as you Pease are shelling;
For you will find, it is not worth the telling.
Excuse this boldness, for I can't avoid
Thinking sometimes, you are but ill Imploy'd.
_Fishing for Souls_ more fit, then _frying Fish_;
That makes me throw, _Pease Shellings_ in your _Dish_.
You have a study, Books wherein to look,
How comes it then the Doctor's turn'd a Cook?
Well _Doctor Cook_, pray be advis'd hereafter
Don't make your Wife the Subject of our Laughter.
I find she's careless, and your Maid a slut,
To let you grease your _Cassock_ for your gut.
You are all three in fault, by all that's blest;
Mend you your manners first, then teach the rest.

He was one who met with a great many Crosses and Afflictions in his
Life; and was (as I am informed) at last cast away at Sea, as he was
going to the Isle of _Wight_.

* * * * *

_JOHN PHILLIPS_.

_John Philips_, the Brother of _Edward Phillips_, the Famous
Continuator of Sir _Richard Bakers_ Chronicle; and Author of _The New
World of English Words_. He was also Nephew to the before mention'd
_John Milton_, the Author of _Paradice lost_, and _Paradice Regain'd_;
so that he might be said to have Poetical Blood run in his Veins. He
was Accounted one of the exactest of Heroical Poets either of the
Ancients or Moderns, either of our own or what ever other Nation else;
having a Judicious command of Style both in Prose and Verse. But his
chiefest Vein lay in _Burlesque_, and facetious Poetry, which produc'd
that Ingenious Satyr against Hypocrites.

He also Translated the Fifth and Sixth Books of _Virgils AEniedes_ into
English _Burlesque_; of which that we may give you a Draught of his
Method, take these few lines.

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