* * * * * _Generous Soules!_ 'Tis not unknown unto you All, how by a cruell Destinie we have a long time been _Mutes_ and _Bound_, although our Miseries have been sufficiently _Clamorous_ and _Expanded_, yet till this happy opportunitie, never durst vex your open Ears and Hands: But this we're confident of will be the surest Argument for your _Noblesses_. What an Ingenious Person of Qualitie once spake of his _Amours_, we apply to our necessities, _Silence in Love betrays more Wo_ _Than Words, though ne'r so Wittie:_ _The Beggar that is DUMB, you know,_ _Deserves a DOUBLE PITTIE._ But be the _Comoedie_ at your _Mercy_ as _We_ are. Onely we wish, that you may have the same _Kind Joy_ in _Perusing_ of it, as we had in the _Acting_. So _Exeunt_ Your Gratefull Servants, _JOHN LOWIN_, } _JOSEPH TAYLOR._ } On the best, last, and only remaining _Comoedy_ of Mr. _FLETCHER_. I' _Mun-o'reclowded too! Clear from the Mist!_ _The_ blind _and late_ Heaven's Ey's _Great_ Oculist Obscur'd _with the_ False Fiers _of his Sceme_ _Not halfe those Souls are Lightned by this Theme._ _Unhappy Murmurers that still repine_ _(After th'_ Eclipse _our Sunne doth brighter shine)_ _Recant your False Grief and your True joyes knowe,_ _Your Bliss is Endles as you fear'd your Woe!_ _What Fort'nate_ Flood _is this? what storm of Witt?_ _Oh who would_ live _and not_ orewhelm'd _in it?_ _No more a_ Fatall Diluge _shall be hurl'd,_ _This_ Inundation _hath_ sav'd _the World._ _Once more the Mighty_ FLETCHER _doth arise_ _Roab'd in a Vest, Studded with Starrs and Eyes_ _Of all his former Glories; His last Worth_ _Imbroydered with what yet Light e're brought forth._ _See! in this glad Farewell he doth appeare_ _Stuck with the Constellations of his Sphere,_ _Fearing we num'd fear'd no Flagration_ _Hath curled all his Fyres in this_ one ONE, _Which (as they guard his hallowed Chast Urn)_ _The dull approaching Hereticks do burn._ FLETCHER _at his Adieu Carouses thus_ _To the_ Luxurious Ingenious. _A_ Cleopatra _did of Old out-vie_ _Th' un-numbred dishes of her_ Anthonie _When (He at th' emptie Board a Wonderer)_ _Smiling shee call's for_ Pearl _and_ Vineger; _First pledges Him in's_ Breath, _then at one Draught_ _Swallowes_ Three Kingdomes _off to_ His best Thought. _Hear Oh ye_ Valiant Writers _and subscribe!_ _(His_ Force _set by) y'are_ Conquer'd _by this_ Bribe; _Though you_ Hold out your selves, _He doth commit_ _In this a_ Sacred Treason _on your Witt;_ _Although in Poëms_ desperately Stout, Give up; _This Overture must_ buy you out. _Thus with some Prodigall Us'rer 't doth fare_