Primary Resource

The Legend of Captaine Jones by David Lloyd (1631)

The Legend of Captaine Jones, a poem attributed to David Lloyd (1597–1663) and first published in 1631, satirizes the legend of Captain John Smith, one of the first English settlers at Jamestown. A native of Montgomeryshire in Wales, Lloyd graduated from Oxford in 1612 and from 1628 and until his death served as a chaplain and official in the Church of England. Included in some printings but not here were various commendatory verses and a longer, second poem that continues the story of Captain Jones. Some spelling has been modernized.

Transcription from Original

THE LEGEND OF Captaine JONES.

  • I Sing thy Armes (Bellona,) and the Mans
  • Whose mighty deeds out did great Tamberlans:
  • Thy Trump (dire goddesse) send, that I may thunder
  • Some wondrous strain, to speak this man of wonder.
  • When Fates decreed that Captain Jones should be
  • The life and death of men, they could not see
  • A place more suiting to bring forth this mirror
  • Of martiall spirits, this thunder crack of terror,
  • Then some vast mountaines womb, whose rigid rocks
  • Might forme him, and foreshew the hard knocks
  • — page 2 —

    Which he should give and take: Nor were they nice
  • To thinke it base, that mountaines bring forth mice,
  • Since from a Brittish mount and Mars his stones,
  • They sent this Man of men, sterne Captaine Jones.
  • Wild Mares milk nurst him on the mountaines gorse,
  • Which gave him strength and stomach like a horse;
  • Goats flesh matur'd him, kill'd on craggy tops,
  • Which taught him to mount Rampiers like those rocks.
  • Ere eighteen winters fully waxen were,
  • This imp of Mars began to doe and dare.
  • With Reymond a stout brother of the sword
  • He first attempted Sea, and went abroad,
  • Two hundred strong, for the East Indies bound,
  • Fame was the only prize he fought or found.
  • Twice twenty days auspicious waves and winds
  • Lull'd them: then Æolus and Neptune joynes
  • To work Great Iones his fall. Envy and ire
  • To see him more then Man, made them conspire:
  • Rough Boreas whistled to the dancing ship,
  • The boisterous billows strove to over-skip
  • The bounding vessell. In this great disaster
  • Reymond, the souldiers, Mariners and Master
  • Lost heart & heed to rule, then up starts Iones,
  • Calls for six Gispins, drinks them off at once.
  • Thus arm'd at all points, yet as light as feather,
  • He ascends, and drew, and pist against the weather;
  • And are we borne (my hearts, quoth he) to die?
  • Shall we descend? Thy immortality
  • Neptune thou must resigne, if I come thither:
  • One Sea may not contai[n]e us both together.
  • — page 3 —

    Nor waves nor winds could fright him with the motio[n]
  • Who thought he could containe and pisse an Ocean.
  • His fatall Smiter thrice aloft he shakes,
  • And frownes; the Sea and ship and canvasse quakes:
  • Then from the hatches he descends, and stept
  • Into his Cabbin, drank again, and slept.
  • When these rough gods beheld him thus secure,
  • And arm'd against them like a man pot-sure,
  • They stint vaine stormes; and so Monstrifera
  • (So hight the Ship) toucht about Florida,
  • Upon a desart Island call'd Crotona,
  • Where savage beasts and serpents live alone:
  • Here Iones would needs no land, though Reymond swore
  • Danger was in't: he laught and leapt ashore.
  • Danger (quoth he) to the[m] who[m] danger fright,
  • My heart was fram'd to dare, my hands to fight.
  • Some six and thirty more put forth to ground,
  • These for fresh food, he for adventure bound;
  • They limit their return when three houres ends,
  • Which Reymond with the ship at Sea attends.
  • These Sea sick souldiers, rang hills, woods, and vallies,
  • Seeking provant to fill their empty bellies;
  • Iones goes alone, where Fate prepar'd to meet him
  • With such a prey as did unfriendly greet him;
  • A Beare as black as darknesse, and as fell
  • As Tyger, vast as the black dog of hell,
  • Runs at him open jaw'd, so fierce, so fast,
  • That he no leisure had to draw for hast
  • Kilzadog his good sword, with fist he aim'd,
  • Alarm'd, a blow, wch sure the bear had brain'd,
  • — page 4 —

    But that betweene her yawning teeth it dings,
  • The gauntlet there stuck fast, his hands he wrings
  • Unarm'd, unharm'd from thence; her formost pawes
  • The Beare on Jones his shoulder claps, and gnawes
  • The gauntlet wedg'd between her teeth: Jones claspt her
  • With both his armes, and strove by force to cast her.
  • And here they try a pluck, and grasp, and tug,
  • And foame; but Jones who knew the Cornish hug,
  • Heaves her a foot from footing, swings her round,
  • And with a short turn hurles her on the ground;
  • Then came his good sword forth to act his part,
  • Which pierc't skin, ribs and riffe, and rove her heart.
  • The head (his trophee) from the trunk he cuts,
  • And with it back unto the shore he struts,
  • Where Reymond was appointed to attend
  • His and the rest returne: but he (false friend)
  • When they were once on shore and out of sight,
  • Hoist sailes to sea, and tooke himself to flight.
  • Here Iones found fraud in man, and deeply sweares
  • Revenge on Reymonds head, the rest he cheares;
  • All safe return'd, but all in desperation
  • To see themselves left there to desolation:
  • Nor grain nor ground, but wilde; nor man, nor beast,
  • But savage; yet (O strange) here Jones doth feast
  • His six and thirty daily, 'twas with fishes
  • Tost from his halberts point into their dishes;
  • Wherewith he took them standing on the shore
  • Out of the Ocean: whether 'twas the store
  • Frequenting this unpeopled coast, or whether
  • — page 5 —

    To see this wondrous man they shoald together
  • And so astoni[sh]ed, yield themselves a prey
  • To him from whom they durst not swim away.
  • Bee't so, or so, I'le not decide, but I
  • Know Jones tells this for truth, who knows no lye.
  • Thus from his weapons point, nine moneths they fed
  • Till fate Sir Richard Greenfield thither led,
  • Who to America transports with Jones
  • His six and thirty fish-fed Mermydons,
  • To Insip were they brought and left; oh then
  • 'Twas time, had they had meat, to play the men.
  • Their first encounter there with famine was,
  • A dry and desart soile, nor graine nor grasse,
  • Nor drink, but water had they here, nor bread
  • For thrice twelve moneths, but caves four house and bed.
  • Such living as that Country could afford
  • Bold Jones was forc't to win by dint of sword
  • Eleven fierce Kings possesse the fertile tract
  • Of this great Coast, who all their powers compact
  • To vanquish Jones: A brave attempt 'tis true,
  • Yet more then twice eleven fierce Kings could doe.
  • Two thousand choise and doughty men they chose,
  • To bid him battaile, arm'd with darts and bowes,
  • And arrows fadome long, well barb'd with bone
  • Of some strange fish, which pierc't through steel and stone
  • And thus they came prepar'd. When they drew neer him,
  • — page 6 —

    He brought his soldiers forth, and thus did cheare them;
  • My five and twenty friends (for onely those
  • Had fate & famine left) these darts and bows
  • Are fit to deale with fearful Crows and Daws,
  • But us whose hearts of oak and empty maws,
  • Hungers sharp dart hath pierc't & yet we sta[i]d
  • To fright & foil our foes with sword in hand)
  • These weapons cannot conquer, not the nu[m]ber
  • Were they two thousand such as Iohn a Cu[m]ber.
  • Doth hunger bite you? bite your foes as fast,
  • Eat these men-eaters (souldiers) kill and tast.
  • Would you gaine glory? Kill by six and seaven,
  • If Crownes of Kings, then here behold eleven.
  • And this he spake and drew. With stomack fierce
  • They give the first assault, Now for a verse
  • To speak great Jones his deeds, who headlong goes
  • Amongst the thickest ranks, cuts, kils, & throws,
  • Some by the legs, some by the wast he makes
  • Shorter; another by the lock he takes,
  • Reaps off his head, wherewith he braines another,
  • Then at one stroke kils father, sonne, and brother;
  • Few scap'd with life, but strangely; happy those
  • Which scap'd with losse of half a face or nose.
  • Nor may I passe his men, who cut and slash
  • Like those that fought for life, not Crowns or Cash.
  • Want made them seem (which sure their foes dismaid)
  • The very sons of death, whose parts they plaid;
  • The Insips now no aime can take aright,
  • They thinke each foe they meet, a mighty Sprite;
  • And so they fly. Six Kings he took, and kil'd,
  • — page 7 —

    Five, with eight hundred soldiers left the field;
  • Twelve hundred fel: for those that went off safe
  • Their heels & not their hearts the praise he gave.
  • Unto their fullest towns, whe[n] he had kild them.
  • He brought his ragged regiment and fill'd them.
  • Here on the river of Mengog they finde
  • A Weare with fish of wondrous growth and kind,
  • Where with a thousand herrings they were fed,
  • All two foot long besides the tail and head.
  • Here some may aske what came of all the wealth,
  • (For Jones brought nothing hime besides himselfe)
  • This conquest gain'd; sure many precious things
  • Must needs attend the death of six such Kings.
  • I answer briefly; His heroick desire
  • Ascends above earth excrements as fire:
  • Nor can descend to Crownes. The souldiers found
  • Much wealth, which in their home-return was drownd;
  • Still fortune favours Jones. Amidst this river
  • He spies a saile directly bearing thither;
  • He calls, and find them English, homeward bound,
  • Who for fresh water thrust into the sound.
  • With these his men and he for England comes,
  • Had England known it, all her guns & drums
  • Had been too little to expresse her joy,
  • As when victorious Hector entred Troy;
  • Yet ere he can attaine his native coast,
  • Æneas like he must be tyr'd and tost
  • With storms, till meat and water wax'd so scant,
  • That Jones drank nought but pisse one week for want.
  • — page 8 —

    At last when they had cast out all their goods,
  • (To save themselves) into the furious flouds,
  • The ship all bruis'd with sands, and stormes, and stones
  • At Ipswich doth disburthen the sea of Jones.
  • England salutes him with the generall joys
  • Of Court and Countrey, Knights, Squires, fools, & boys
  • In every towne rejoyce at his arrivall,
  • The townsmen where he comes their wives do swive all
  • And bid them thinke on Jones amidst this glee,
  • In hope to get such roaring boyes as he:
  • Others this joy, into a fury rapt
  • To sing his praise, though elegant and apt;
  • Yet mixt with fixions, which he scornes. 'Tis knowne
  • Jones fancies no additions but his owne;
  • Nor need we stir our braines for glorious stuffe
  • To paint his praise, himselfe hath done enough,
  • And hath prescrib'd that I should write no more
  • Then his good memory hath kept in store
  • Of what he did. Perhaps he hath or can
  • Doe more, but hides it like a modest man.
  • His Brittish expedition make he hie
  • From his vagary to his Chivalry.
  • This Dukedomes confines pointing on the South,
  • Great Ke[e]per Castle guards on Morligs mouth;
  • Which key of Brittaine (like great Brittaines Dover)
  • Was wel nigh lost by siege til Jones went over,
  • To dye or raise it; 'Twas begirt by land
  • With fifteen thousand. Foure tall ships withstand
  • All succours from the sea: Against this force
  • — page 9 —

    He goes as boldly as an eyelesse horse,
  • With one small Bark (the Shit-fire 'twas) a hot one,
  • And save a hundred men was with him not one:
  • But these were Welsh blades, born for hacks & hewing,
  • And car'd not what they did so they were doing.
  • Thus like some tempests these foure ships he frightens,
  • His guns roare thunder whilst his powder lightens,
  • And from his broad side poures a showre of haile,
  • Which rakes them thorow & thorow, ribs, masts, & sail.
  • Their shot replies, but they were rankt too high
  • To touch the Pinnace, which beares up so nigh
  • And playes so hot, that her opponents thinke
  • Some Devill is grand Captaine of the Pinke.
  • One English Pirat with them, whilst he watches
  • His time to shoot, spies Jones upon the hatches
  • And cryes out, Ho, hoise Canvas all at once,
  • And fly, or yield; Zounds it is Captain Jones:
  • The man swore reason, and 'twas quickly heard,
  • For, not a Bullet like that name was feard;
  • They fly, he followes, but a partiall winde
  • And wings of feare sav'd them, left him behinde.
  • To Kemper he returnes him, and supplies it
  • With fifty men, and victualls to suffice it
  • Six moneths: The foes by land lose hope and heart
  • To oppose this new supply, and so depart:
  • Then on the Gate this title was ingraved,
  • Jones rescued Kemper, and the Dukedome saved.
  • Thus plum'd with Laurell, Jones for England came,
  • Where George of Cumberland, rapt with his fame,
  • — page 10 —

    Wooes him to be Vicegenerall of his fleet;
  • Which Iones vouchsaft, because he was to meet
  • Men like himselfe, the doughty Dons of Spain,
  • Whose honour (or lose all) he vow'd to gaine.
  • And better fate in this designe he wisht not,
  • The[n] to cope single wth their great Don Quixot.
  • Stay Muse and blush, and sigh & sing no more,
  • Here Jones his Mistris Fortune plaid the whore.
  • Yet, whilst thou loath'd her lightnesse to rehearse,
  • Let indignation make thee chide in verse;
  • Ah deity! and blindly to go on so
  • From thy deare minion Iones, to Iohn D'Alonso,
  • Whose out and inside is no better mettle
  • Then an old Drum, or a base Tinkers Kettle.
  • And tak'st thou him for Iones? that glorious boy,
  • Whom Venus self would kisse (were Mars away.)
  • Well fickle goddesse, if thou be divine,
  • I'le sweare, heaven hath like earth, light feminine.
  • Twas thus, This fleet cut through the Westerne maine,
  • And so lay hovering on the coast of Spaine:
  • Iones led the front (as twas his custome still)
  • The first in fight, last to be kil'd or kill:
  • His ship went swiftest too, as did his minde
  • On honors wings: But (oh) an envious winde
  • Fild all his saile, and wrapt him in a mist
  • From being seen, or seeing, ere he wist.
  • And thus he lost his traine, and cast about,
  • And beat these Seas five dayes to find them out,
  • Till in his quest it was his fate to meet
  • Don Iohn D. Alonso with the Spanish fleet.
  • — page 11 —

    This Generall bid amaine, and Jones defi'd
  • From Canons mouth. The Don againe repli'd
  • "With foure for one. Ah Iones, had I my wish,
  • "Some Godhead should have turn'd thee to a fish,
  • "To escape this dire assault; thou shouldst not then
  • "Be taken like a tame beast in thy den.
  • Nine thousand souldiers was the force that fought
  • This day with Iones, whom six huge gallies brought,
  • The stoutest boats to make a bold Bravado
  • That were in Spaines invincible Armado:
  • Iones first commands his men to take their victuall,
  • He souldier-like dranke much, and prayd a little;
  • Then tells them briefly, here's no place to fly,
  • Come friends, let's bravely live or bravely die.
  • By this the gallyes had inclos'd him round,
  • And sought to board him; but they quickly found
  • The ship too hot to grapple with sosoon,
  • And so bore off againe, and paid her roome.
  • Then each by turne present her the broad side,
  • Which she repaid with intrest, and so ply'd,
  • That where her bullets pierce, whose streames of blood
  • Spout through the gallyes ribs, and dye the flood;
  • The foes disdaine thus long to stand in fight
  • Gainst one, and so presse on with all their might;
  • And now the storme grew hot, and deep in blood,
  • "Mad rage had got the place where reason stood:
  • Guns, drums, and trumpets stop the souldiers eares,
  • From hearing cryes and groanes; and fury reares
  • This fatall combate to so strange a height,
  • That higher powers expresse th'effects of fright.
  • — page 12 —

    Great Neptune quakt and roar'd, clouds ran and pist,
  • The windes fell downe, and Titan lurkt in mist.
  • Then belch huge bullets forth, smoak, fire, & thunder:
  • Their fury strikes the gods with feare and wonder.
  • One gally which two hundred slaves did row,
  • Affront the ship in hope to buldge her prow.
  • Jones gave her leave; but when she once came nigh,
  • One burst his murdering shot; here doom'd to dye
  • Downe dropp'd the brave Viceroy of Saint Iago,
  • Don Diego de Cordona and Gonzago.
  • Stones, chaines, and bullets tare their passage out
  • Through men and galley, which soon tackt about
  • In hope to get aloofe; but Jones sent after
  • Two lucky shots, which light twixt wind and water.
  • "In crept the quaking billow, where he spide
  • "Those holes, in hopes its fearefull head to hide;
  • "The galley like afeard, worse hurt, doth creep
  • "Into the trembling bowels of the deep;
  • "And so she sanke. Thus Diego whilst he try'd
  • His force with Jones, with fifteen hundred dy'd.
  • Now Jones all breathlesse sat to take his breath
  • Upon a But of sack, and drank the death
  • Of Don Iohn de Alonso, which his men
  • Pledge in a rowse, and so they fight agen.
  • Ninescore there were, but threescore now remaine
  • To doe or suffer, for the rest were slaine.
  • The Spanish force distract twixt hope and feare,
  • Yet by their fellowes fall forewarnd, forbeare
  • This hot assault, keep distance, and at Jones
  • Let fly their shot at randome all at once,
  • — page 13 —

    Some halfe a Cable short and some flew ore
  • The top saile, some the sterne and rudder tore:
  • One, all the rest in fatall fury past,
  • And all to shivers rove the master mast,
  • Downe fell the tackle, and the vessell lay
  • An English prison and a Spanish prey.
  • Starboard and Larboard side, from poope to prow
  • They all let drive and rak'd her through and through.
  • All now but Iones and one man more were kill'd,
  • Who cry'd, Now fight and die or live and yield.
  • Iones kil'd the first, the latter he besought him
  • Upon his knees, whilst by the knees he caught him
  • Begging for life, a bullet tooke away
  • His head, when when 'twas off still seem'd to pray;
  • Out flew the head and bullet both at once
  • Between the manly thighes of Captaine Iones;
  • Who lookt behind him, art thou gone (quoth he)
  • Still may they die so, that cry yield to me.
  • Now nought to him but blood and death appear'd,
  • Death was his wish, captivity he fear'd;
  • Which to prevent Kil-za-dog forth he drew,
  • And thus spake, Brave Cato, Cato slew.
  • And when victorious Brutus could not stand,
  • He fell, but by his owne victorious hand.
  • Brutus, I am a Brute, and have thy spirit,
  • Thy fortune and selfe-death I will inherit.
  • Thus said, his sword unto his side he plyes,
  • Which his good Genius stays & thus replyes;
  • HoldIones, reserv'd for thy Countries good,
  • Born to shed hostil, not thy home-bred blood,
  • — page 14 —

    And know that self death is the Cowards curse,
  • For, he that dyes so, dyes for feare of worse;
  • The time will come when Irish bogs shall quake
  • Under thy feet, whilst great Oneale doth shake.
  • I may not on thy future deeds dilate,
  • Thy sword must right what is involv'd in fate;
  • This know, in thy old age thou shalt impart
  • Unto thy Countries youth thy martiall art,
  • Teach them to manage armes, and how they must
  • Make bright their swords, which peace hath wrapt in rust.
  • NowIones vouchsaf'd to live, not for himself
  • But for his Countries good and Common wealth,
  • His scarlet cap he dons, with crimson plume,
  • And he ascends the hatches all in sume.
  • The Musketiers ambitiously desire
  • To hit this mark, and all at once give fire:
  • Some Bullets raze his plume, his haire, his nose,
  • His velvet Jerkin, and his sattin hose,
  • (The scars may yet be seen) yet draws he breath
  • Fearlesse and harmlesse in the jawes of death.
  • The Spaniard now conjectur'd his intent,
  • By seeking death t'avoid imprisonment,
  • And so forbore to shoot, drew neere and fought
  • To take the prey, which they so deare had bought.
  • Then Iones all raging throwes into the maine
  • That sword which men and wolves & beares had slain,
  • That sword which erst had drunke the blood of Kings,
  • Into the bowels of the deep he dings.
  • The Ocean thirld for feare, and gave it place,
  • And greedy Neptune snatcht it for his mace.
  • — page 15 —

    Then from the ship he leaps amongst his foes,
  • And so undaunted to Don Iohn he goes,
  • Who bid him Live, Don-like, but gave him breath,
  • Onely to breath in greater paines then death.
  • This shock had sent to Styx six thousand men,
  • Whose soules Don Iohn to satisfie againe
  • Inflicts more servile punishments on Jones,
  • Then countervails six thousand deaths at once.
  • He beds on boards, is fed with bits and knocks
  • Ape-like, barefoot with neither shoos nor socks.
  • Haire shirt, blew bonnet, made a servile knave,
  • A lowsie, dusty, nasty galley slave.
  • At last he brings Jones to the Spanish King,
  • And says: Great Monarch, see this pretious thing;
  • Six thousand of your bravest men he cost,
  • Who to gain him alive, their lives have lost,
  • Nor think the bargain deare, for here's a man
  • Can doe & say more then your Viceroyes can.
  • This praise was given him by the crafty Don,
  • For feare his losse seem'd more then what he won;
  • And so it did indeed, for Phillip thought
  • Jones inside by his outside dearely bought.
  • To try he askes him, whither bound, and whence
  • He was, and Jones replies with little sense,
  • Whether through feare or faining, he affords
  • To all the King demands, not three wise words.
  • To try him further, in a Jaile they cast him,
  • Which serv'd for nothing but to stink & fast in.
  • And here it was his destiny to light
  • Upon a learned Priest, a Jesuite:
  • — page 16 —

    With him falls Iones to work. The sacred word
  • His weapon was, for he had drown'd his sword.
  • Their question was of purgatory, where,
  • And whether 'tis at all, if so, 'tis here
  • (Quoth Iones.) For he half tir'd with paines would needs
  • Go straight to heaven: And thus the question breeds.
  • Iones was no Schoolman, yet he bore a braine
  • Which nere forgot what ere it could containe.
  • Yet this old Priest so wrests the letters sense,
  • Equivocates, denies plaine consequence,
  • Starts to and fro, and raiseth such confusions,
  • That Iones chief ward was to deny conclusions:
  • But, doe this subtill Schoolman what he can,
  • Such was the vigour of this martiall man,
  • Though he was no good disputant or Text-man
  • Nor knew to spell Amen, to serve a Sexton;
  • Yet truth, with confidence and his strong fist
  • Doth first convince, and then convert the Priest.
  • Some talke of Garnets straw and Lipsius lasses,
  • Whose miracles made many Artists asses;
  • But here's a miracle transcends them all,
  • An artist made wise by a Naturall.
  • Now Englands Court rings all of Iones his fetters,
  • And men of rank were soon sent ore with letters,
  • To ransome him for gold, or man for man,
  • On any termes. The King with many a Don
  • Consults upon this point: One thought it fit
  • — page 17 —

    To deale upon exchange; some better wit
  • Thought it more fit to keep this second Drak,
  • For so he term'd him wisely, and thus spake;
  • Armies are Englands arme, Captaines the hand
  • Of this strong arme that rules by sea & land:
  • And of this arme and hand I think in summe,
  • This captive Captaine is the very thumb.
  • This speech was short and sound, but could not goe so
  • Without th'opposing of old Don Mendozo;
  • Who lov'd and favour'd Jones, but knew not why,
  • (Nature it seems had wrought some sympathy)
  • Pardon (quoth he) (dread Soveraign) are we come
  • To talke of armes and hands and Captaine Thumb?
  • From East to West our Arms and armies raigne,
  • And feare we now for one to re-obtaine
  • So many Viceroyes in the Isle captiv'd,
  • For us, of light and almost life depriv'd;
  • Were Drake's and Candish spirit in this dragon,
  • Let not their future times have this to brag on,
  • That Englands Queen did prize one Captaine more
  • Than Spaines great Monarch did his twenty foure.
  • His speech prevail'd, and so they all attone,
  • And twenty foure were askt and given for one,
  • All which had led great armies to the field,
  • And never knew but once, what twas to yield.
  • And thus was Iones dismist; yet ere he goe
  • The King, to grace him, made him kisse his toe.
  • Long maist thou live old man, and may thy tongue
  • And memory, as thou grow'st old, wax young:
  • — page 18 —

    Then wilt thou live in spight of time, and be
  • Times subject, and time thine t'imblazon thee.
  • Pardon my forward Muse, striving to soare
  • A pitch with thee at mid-day tyr'd, gives ore;
  • For, who can speak thee all (thou mighty man?)
  • Not Greece's Homer, nor Rome's Mantuan.
  • Thy Irish warres, thy taking great Tyrone,
  • Whole heards of Wolves kill'd there by thee alone,
  • Thy severall single duels with fie[r]ce men
  • And Bears, all slain; and that dry journy when
  • Thou drank'st but what thou pist for thrice seven daies,
  • Which made thee dry ere since; then th'amorous waies
  • The Queen of No-land us'd to make thee King
  • Of her and hers (Oh) many a precious thing.
  • Thy London widow next in love halfe drown'd,
  • Which thou refus'dst with forty thousand pound:
  • Thy daunting Essex in his rash bravado,
  • Raleigh 's hard scaping of thy bastinado;
  • Lastly, thy grace with thy great Queen Eliza,
  • Who, hadst thou had the learning to suffice a
  • Man, but to write and read, had made thee able
  • To fit in Councell at her highnesse Stable.
  • These trophees of thy Fame, and myriads more
  • Kept by thy fertile braine for time in store,
  • I leave unsung, and wish they may be writ
  • In golden lines by some more happy wit,
  • Whose Genius, till some fury doth inspire,
  • Let me sit downe in silence, and admire.