far or near do lie,
And fraught it so with all the wealth
Of wit and learning, not by stealth,
Or privacy, but perchance got
That this whole lower World could not
Richer Commodities, or more
Afford to add unto his store.
To Heaven then with an intent
Of new Discoveries, he went
And left his Vessel here to rest,
Till his return shall make it blest.
The Bill of Lading he that looks
To know, may find it in his Books.

* * * * *

Mr. _PHINEAS FLETCHER_.

This learned person, Son and Brother to two ingenious Poets, himself
the third, not second to either, was son to _Giles Fletcher_, Doctor in
Law, and Embassadour from Queen _Elizabeth_ to _Theodor Juanowick_ Duke
of _Muscovia_; who though a Tyranick Prince, whose will was his Law,
yet setled with him very good Terms for our Merchants trading thither.
He was also brother to two worthy Poets, _viz._ _George Fletcher_, the
Author of a Poem, entituled, _Christs Victory and Triumph over and
after Death_; and _Giles Fletcher_, who wrote a worthy Poem, entituled,
_Christs Victory_, made by him being but Batchelor of Arts, discovering
the piety of a Saint, and divinity of a Doctor. This our _Phineus
Fletcher_ was Fellow of _Kings Colledge_ in _Cambridge_, and in Poetick
fame exceeded his two Brothers, in that never enough to be celebrated
Poem, entituled, _The Purple Island_, of which to give my Reader a
taste (who perhaps hath never seen the Book) I shall here add two
Stanza's of it.

Thrice happy was the worlds first infancy,
Nor knowing yet, nor curious ill to know:
Joy without grief, love without jealousie:
None felt hard labour, or the sweating Plough:
The willing earth brought tribute to her King:
_Bacchus_ unborn lay hidden in the cling
Of big swollen Grapes; their drink was every silver spring.

And in another place, speaking of the vanity of ambitious Covetousness.

Vain men, too fondly wise, who plough the Seas,
With dangerous pains another earth to find:
Adding new Worlds to th'old, and scorning ease,
The earths vast limits daily more unbind!
The aged World, though now it falling shows,
And hasts to set, yet still in dying grows,
Whole lives are spent to win, what one Deaths hour must lose.

Besides this _Purple Island_, he wrote divers _Piscatorie Eclogues_,
and other _Poetical Miscelanies_, also a Piscatory Comedy called
_Sicelides_, which was acted a