_What's all this preparation for? or why Such suddain Triumphs?_ FLETCHER _the people cry! Just so, when Kings approach, our Conduits run Claret, as here the spouts flow_ Helicon; _See, every sprightfull_ Muse _dressed trim and gay Strews hearts and scatters roses in his way. Thus th'outward yard set round with_ bayes _w'have seene, Which from the garden hath transplanted been: Thus, at the Prætor's feast, with needlesse costs Some must b'employd in painting of the posts: And some as dishes made for sight, not taste, Stand here as things for shew to_ FLETCHERS _feast. Oh what an honour! what a Grace 'thad beene T'have had his Cooke in_ Rollo _serv'd them in!_ FLETCHER _the King of Poets! such was he, That earned all tribute, claimed all soveraignty; And may he that denye's it, learn to blush At's_ loyall Subject, _starve at's_ Beggars bush: _And if not drawn by example, shame, nor Grace, Turne o've to's_ Coxcomb, _and the Wild-goose Chase. Monarch of Wit! great Magazine of wealth! From whose rich_ Banke, _by a Promethean-stealth, Our lesser flames doe blaze! His the true fire, When they like Glo-worms, being touch'd, expire, 'Twas first beleev'd, because he alwayes was, The_ Ipse dixit, _and_ Pythagoras _To our Disciple-wits; His soule might run (By the same-dream't-of Transmigration) Into their rude and indigested braine, And so informe their Chaos-lump againe; For many specious brats of this last age Spoke_ FLETCHER _perfectly in every Page. This rowz'd his Rage to be abused thus: Made'_s Lover mad, Lieutenant humerous. _Thus_ Ends of Gold and Silver-men _are made (As th'use to say) Goldsmiths of his owne trade; Thus_ Rag-men _from the dung-hill often hop, And publish forth by chance a Brokers shop: But by his owne light, now, we have descri'd The drosse, from that hath beene so purely tri'd_. Proteus _of witt! who reads him doth not see The manners of each sex of each degree! His full stor'd fancy doth all humours fill From th'_Queen _of_ Corinth _to_ the maid o'th mill; _His_ Curate, Lawyer, Captain, Prophetesse _Shew he was all and every one of these; Hee taught (so subtly were their fancies seized)_ To Rule a Wife, and yet the Women pleas'd. Parnassus _is thine owne, Claime't as merit, Law makes the Elder Brother to inherit. G. Hills._ IN HONOUR OF Mr _John Fletcher_.