worse, for that gathered out of many flowers: neither could I ever brooke to set downe that halungly in my broken stile, which I found better expressed by a grave authour."

This admonitory epistle runs on to five pages, and appears to be the only original part of the publication, except the following sonnet by a Scotish writer, which indicates that the compiler had deceased before her book was printed.

Simon Graham to the Authour, [or rather to the Work.]

"Goe, famous thou, with ever-flying fame,

That mak'st thy flight on Vertue's wings to soar;
In worlds of hearts goe labyrinth thy name,

That wonder's selfe may wondrous thee adore.
Though th' author's selfe triumph in heavenly glore,
Thou, sacred worke, giv'st mortall life againe:
And so thy worth hath made her evermore
In heaven and earth for ever to remaine.
Her pondrous speech, her passion and her paine,
Her pleasing stile shall be admir'd ilke where.
The fruitfull flowing of her loftie braine

Doth now bewray a Mother's matchlesse care;
While she lives crown'd, amongst the high divines,
Thou on her Sonne celestial sunne downe shines."

Ten pious contemplations occupy the first portion of the volume.

Chap. xi. is entitled "Morning Meditation, with sixteene sobs of a sorrowful spirit, which she used for mentall prayer: as also an addition of sixteene staves

This alliterative title would seem to be borrowed from Hunnis's **Seven Sobs of a sorrowful Soul for Sin;" printed before 1600.

of

of verse taken out of Peter's Complaint, which she usually sung and played on the winde instrument.” This meditation is an intermixture of prose and verse. The latter is taken from the polished metre of Southwell.

Chap. xii. consists of "A Madrigall made by Berny Grymeston upon the conceit of his Mother's play to the former ditties.

"How many pipes, as many sounds
Do still impart

To your sonne's hart

As many deadly wounds:

How many strokes, as many stounds,

Each stroke a dart,

Each stound a smart,

Poore captive me confounds.

And yet how oft the strokes of sounding keys hath slain, As oft the looks of your kind eies restores my life againe."

Chap. xiii. an Evening Meditation, contains "Odes in imitation of the seven penitential psalmes in seven severall kinde of verse." Taken perhaps from the poems of Verstegan, noticed in Censura, Vol. II. p. 96.

Chap. xiiii. and last, entitled "Memoratives," comprehends a selection of ancient moral maxims and sententious reflections, which are highly creditable to the maternal tenderness and good sense of the selector.

T.P.

St. Peter's Complaint, with other poems, by father Southwell, appeared in 1595, and had many subsequent impressions; as may hereafter be specifed, in the progress of this publication.

ART.

ART. XVI. Notices of, and Exhortations to, Marlowe, Lodge, and Peele. From "Greene's Groats

worth of Wit, bought with a Million of Repentance." Printed in 1592, 1617, and 21.

"To those Gentlemen, his quondam acquaintance, that spend their wits in making Plays, R. G. wisheth a better exercise, and wisedome to prevent his extremities.

"Wonder not, for with thee [Chr. Marlowe] will I first beginne, thou famous graces of Tragedians, that Greene, who hath said with thee (like the fool) in his heart, There is no GOD,' should now give glory unto his greatnesse: for penetrating is his power, his hand lies heavy upon me. Why should thy excellent wit, his gift, be so blinded that thou shouldest give no glory to the Giver? Oswinish folly! what are his rules but mere confused mockeries, able to extirpate, in small time, the generation of mankinde. I know the least of my demerits merit this miserable death; but wilfull striving against knowne truth, exceedeth all the terrors of my soule. Defuse not (with me) till this last poynt of extremity; for little knowest thou, how in the end thou shalt be visited.

"With thee I joyne young Juvenal, that biting Satyrist, [Thos. Lodge that, lastly with mee together writ a comedy. Sweet boy, might I advise thee, be advised, and get not many enemies by bitter words. Inveigh against vaine men, for thou canst doe it, no man better; no man so well: thou hast a liberty to reprove all; and name none: for one being spoken to, all are offended; none being blamed, no man is in

jured,

jured. Stop shallow water, still running, it will rage; tread on a worme, and it will turne: then blame not schollers who are vexed with sharpe and bitter lines, if they reproove thy too much liberty of reproofe.

"And thou [Geo. Peele] no lesse deserving than the other two in some things rarer, in nothing inferiour; driven (as my selfe) to extreme shifts, a little have I. to say to thee: and were it not an idolatrous oath, I would swear by sweet St. George, thou art unworthy better hap, sith thou dependest on so meane a stay. Base-minded men, all three of you, if by my misery yee bee not warned: for unto none of you (like me) sought those burs to cleave; those puppets (I meau) that speak from our mouths; those anticks, garnisht in our colours. Is it not strange that I, to whom they all have been beholding; is it not like that you, to whom they all have been beholding, shall (were ye in that case that I am now) be both of them at once forsaken? Yes, trust them not: for there is an upstart Crow beautified with our feathers, that with his tyger's heart, wrapt in a player's hyde, supposes he is as wel able to bombast out a blank verse, as the best of you; and being an absolute Johannes fac totum, is in his owne conceit the onely Shake-scene in a country.

"But now returne I againe to you three, knowing my misery is to you no newes: and let me heartily intreat you to be warned by my harmes. Delight not (as I have done) in irreligious oaths, despise drunkenness, fie lust, abhor those epicures, whose loose life hath made Religion loathsome to your eares; and

Shakspeare, says Tyrwhitt. See Malone's Chronological Order of his Plays, and Chalmers' Supplemental Apology for the Believers of the ShaksFare MSS.

when

when they sooth you with termes of mastership, remember Robert Greene (whom they have often flattered) perishes now for want of comfort. Remember Gentlemen, your lives are like so many light tapers, that are with care delivered to all of you to maintaine: these, with wind-puft wrath may be extinguished, with drunkennesse put out, with negligence let fall. The fire of my light is now at the last snuffe. My hand is tyred, and I am forc't to leave where I would begin. Desirous that you should live, though himselfe be dying.

"ROBERT GREENE." to said on

ART. XVII. Churchyard's Praise of Poetric. 1595.

[CONTINUED FROM VOL. III, P. 347.]

The old court poet thus proceeds in his survey of metrical writers, sacred and prophane.

Nathan spake of a lamb, ungracious'y taken from his bosome.

↑ David and Salomar, divine poets.

Plato's dialogne called Ion.

Brings