[Footnote 5: 'Scantling' is used in various senses. Either that of 'rough draft' or, as in Taylor, 'small piece' would do; but it is at least possible that it is not a noun at all, but a direct participle from the verb to 'scantle', found in Drayton, and meaning 'to be deficient', 'come short'. Some, however, prefer the sense 'dimension' or 'measurement', which would make it a sort of varied repetition of 'commensurate'.] [Footnote 6: 'Deifie' is of course wrong. 'Defy' is likeliest, and in a certain sense (frequent in Elizabethan writers) would do; but 'decry' seems wanted.] [Footnote 7: A common phrase for an earlier 'Banting' regime derived from the _Hygiasticon_ (Antwerp, 1623) of Leonard Lessius (1554-1624). I owe this information to the kindness of Dr. Comrie, Lecturer on the History of Medicine in the University of Edinburgh. The next sentence may, or rather must, be a reference to (in fact, a fling at) Dryden, _Essay of Dramatic Poesy_ (vol. i, p. 52, ed. Ker, Oxford, 1900), who censures Cleveland for not giving 'a _great_ thought' in 'words ... commonly received'. I owe the reminder of this to Mr. Thorn-Drury.] [Footnote 8: The use of bran for shampooing is not perhaps so well known as that for poultices, foot-baths, &c. It is always a _softener_ as well as a detergent.] [Footnote 9: Ashmole.] [Footnote 10: Perhaps I should add a very few words explaining why I have not made this 'authenticated' edition the base of mine. I have not done so because the editors, excellent as was evidently their intention, have after all given us no reasons for their exclusions and inclusions; because, though they have corrected some obvious errors, their readings by no means always intrinsically commend themselves to me; and especially because the distance between 1647 and 1677 reflects itself, to no small degree, in a certain definite _modernisation_ of form, grammatical and prosodic. 1653 has much more _contemporariness_.] POEMS. To the State of Love. Or the Senses' Festival. I saw a vision yesternight, Enough to sate a Seeker's sight; I wished myself a Shaker there, And her quick pants my trembling sphere. It was a she so glittering bright, You'd think her soul an Adamite; A person of so rare a frame, Her body might be lined with' same. Beauty's chiefest maid of honour, You may break Lent with looking on her. 10 Not the fair Abbess of the skies, With all her nunnery of eyes, Can show me such a glorious prize!