Impoison'd with the Drugs of cruel Hate, Draw on themselves an unavoided Fate.
_Charles Aleyn_ was one and that no despicable Poet, as may be seen by his Works, which still live in Fame and Reputation, writing in Heroick verse the Life of King _Henry_ the Seventh, with the Battle of _Bosworth_; and also the Battle of _Crescy_ and _Poietiers_, in which he is very pithy and sententious: I shall only give you two instances, the first out of his Battle of _Crescy_.
They swell with love who are with valour fill'd, And _Venus_ Doves may in a Head-piece build.
The other out of his History of King _Henry_ the Seventh.
Man and Money a mutual Falshood show, Man makes false Mony, Mony makes man so.
_George Withers_ was one who loved to Fish in troubled Waters, being never more quiet then when in Trouble, of a restless Spirit, and contradicting Disposition; gaining more by Restraint then others could get by their Freedom, which his ungoverned (not to say worse) Pen often brought him unto, so that the _Marshalsea_ and _Newgate_ were no Strangers unto him. He was born in _Hantshire_ (if it be every whit the more honour to the County for his Birth) a prodigious Pourer forth of Rhime, which he spued from his Maw, as _Tom Coriat_ formerly used to spue _Greek_, and that with a great pretence to a Poetical Zeal, against the Vices of the Times; which he mightily exclaim'd against in his _Abuses Stript and Whipt_, his _Motto_, _Brittains Remembrancer_, &c. with other Satyrical Works of the like nature: He turn'd also into _English_ Verse the Songs of _Moses_, and other Hymns of the Old Testament; besides these he wrote a Poem called _Philaret_, the _Shepherds Hunting_, his _Emblems_, _Campo Musæ_, _Opo-Balsamum_, the _Two Pitchers_, and others more then a good many, had not his Muse been more Loyal than it was; he was living about the Year 1664. when I saw him, and suppose he lived not long after.
_Robert Herric_ one of the Scholars of _Apollo_ of the middle Form, yet something above _George Withers_, in a pretty Flowry and Pastoral Gale of Fancy, in a vernal Prospect of some Hill, Cave, Rock, or Fountain; which but for the Interruption of other trivial Passages, might have made up none of the worst Poetick Landskips. Take a view of his Poetry in his Errata to the Reader in these lines.