View source for The Commonplace book of Matthew Day ca.1650 V.a.160 pages 2, 3, 4 and 5

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Below is a semi-diplomatic transcription of an extract from The Commonplace book of Matthew Day ca.1650, V.a.160 pages 2, 3, 4 and 5 <br>
This was originally created as part of the [[Practical Paleography]] Series, sponsored by [[Early Modern Manuscripts Online (EMMO)|EMMO]].<br>
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page 2
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'''Vpon the comett.'''<br>
'''5.''' A Starre of late was seene in Virgoe's trayne<br>
w''hi''ch seem'd from North to South to post amayne:<br>
If England be the North, and South be Spayne<br>
Then Charles sitt fast and looke vnto thy waine.<br>
'''A Melancholy meditation.'''<br>
'''6''' Welcome folded armes, and fixed eyes,<br>
A sigh that peircing mortifies,<br>
A looke that's fastned on the grownd,<br>
A toung chaind up without a sound,<br>
Fountaines heads, and pathlesse groues<br>
Places w''hi''ch pale passion loues,<br>
Moone-light: walkes, when all the fowles,<br>
Are warmly hous'd, saue bats and Owles,<br>
A midnight bell, a parting groane<br>
These are the sounds wee feede vpon,<br>
Then stretch the bones into a gloomy ally,<br>
There's nothing daynty sweete but melancholly.<br>
'''Shakespeare on the King.'''<br>
'''7.''' Crownes, haue theyr compasse, length of dayes theyr date<br>
Triumphs theyr tombe, felicity her fate,<br>
Of naught but earth, can earth make us p''ar''taker<br>
But knowledge makes a king most like his maker. <br>
Vpon an occasion of seeing a fly in a Spiders web one<br>
wrote these verses, his Mrs beeing by.<br>
8. Sees't thou (my dearest Caelia) how that fly<br>
Sueing for mercy in the web doth lye?<br>
Then thus resolue, thus with your selfe consider<br>
I am that fetter'd fly, you are the spider,<br>
Your loue's the web, in w''hi''ch  <s>fast</s> since fast you haue me<br>
O let it be your glory not to kill, but saue me.<br>
'''9. In Rob Cecil:'''<br>
Heere lyes little Crooke backe<br>
whoe iustly was reckon'd<br>
Richard the 3[r]d and Judas the Second,<br>
In life they agreed<br>
But in death they did alter<br>
Great pity the pox preuented the halter<br>
<br>
page 3<br>
'''Vpon a hopefull young gentleman that dyed Iune ''th''e 14th.'''<br>
10. He that's imprison'd in this graue soe soone<br>
Began to liue the 14th day of Iune;<br>
Though the grim sister with her fatall knife<br>
Kill'd him, she could not take away his life;<br>
For when sterne fate hath done what ere she can<br>
She power hath to kill but half a man<br>
When drowsy bodyes are possest with sleepes<br>
The actiue minde her selfe still waking keepes<br>
Soe when the carcasse buryed eyes in the earth,<br>
Then long=liu'd fame begins her glorious birth;<br>
And those that for theyr good deedes are com''m''ended<br>
Begin to liue when theyr frayle life is ended<br>
'''Of one that kill'd himselfe by stopping his breath'''<br> 
'''with a handkercheife'''.<br>
'''11.''' He whose cold carcasse in this place you see<br>
Ga'ue to his life a sad Catastrophe<br>
For tirde with acting still the pooreman's parte<br>
Resolu'd to hasten cruell death's slow dart,<br>
He stopt his breath and with prodigious sinne<br>
Thrust out his soule by keeping of it in<br>
'''12.''' Good folks for loue or hire<br>
Come and h'elp me to a crier,<br>
For my poore hart is gone a stray<br>
After 2 eyes that went this way:<br>
If there be any man<br>
In towne, or country can<br>
Bring me my hart again<br>
Ile pay him for his payne;<br>
By these markes I will you shew<br>
That I this heart doe ow<br>
It is a wounded heart<br>
And in it stickes a dart<br>
Maymed in every part throughout it,<br>
Fayth and truth writt round about it<br>
Twas a tame hart and a deare<br>
And neuer usd to roame<br>
But hauing got this haunt I feare<br>
Will never keepe at home<br>
<br>
page 4<br>
For loue's sake passing by the way<br>
If by chaunce my hart you see, <br>
Eyther impound it for a stray,<br>
So send it home to me.<br>
'''13.''' Freindes, soldiers, woemen in theyr prime<br>
Are like to doggs in hawking time, <br>
Occasion, warre, and beauty gone<br>
Freindes, soldiers, woemen in theyr prime.<br>
Are like to doggs in hawking time,<br>
Occasion , warre, and beauty gone<br>
Freindes, soldiers, woemen then are none<br>
'''14.''' A true freind must like a priuy be <br>
To ease his freind at his necessity<br>
A true friend must like a chimny be<br>
Hottest in winter of aduersity<br>
'''To ''th''e king of sued.''' <br>
15. Gustauus true Augustus for to be<br>
Each Anagram''m''atist may plainly see;<br>
And sued doth Deus backward truly spell<br>
Soe doe thy name and actions suite aswell<br>
Gods <s>daring</s> <sup>untlesse</sup> champion daring to defie,<br>
Romes boundlesse pride and Austria's Tiranny;<br>
In thee be all those prophesies fulfill'd<br>
Foretold of him to whome the beast should yeild;<br>
God crowne thy prowesse w''i''th victorious dayes<br>
Be thine the Conquest and be his the prayse<br>
'''Vpon Dorothie Kind daughter to Dr Iohn King'''<br>
'''buried in the chappell at Windsor'''.<br>
'''16.''' Here lyes a modell of frayle man<br>
A tender infant, but a span<br>
In age or stature, heere she must<br>
Lengthen out both bedded in dust<br>
Nine months imprison'd in ''th''e wombe<br>
Eight on earth's surface free, the Tombe<br>
Must make compleate hire Diarie<br>
Soe leaue her to aeternity.<br>
'''Not farre from whome lyes Robert Huitt sonne to<'''br>
'''Sir William Huitt vpon whome I finde these'''<br>
'''17.''' Heere shrined are beneath this marble stone<br>
The pretious reliques of that little one<br>
whose witt<br>
<br>
page 5<br>
Whose witt and rare deuotion soe out went<br>
His tender yeares they drew astonishment;<br>
For till the cruell hand of death had strooke him<br>
You for a masked cherub might haue tooke him.<br>
Six yeares with life he labor's then deceast<br>
To keepe the Sabbath of Eternall rest;<br>
And that w''hi''ch many thousand able men<br>
Are toyling for till threescore yeare and ten<br>
This blessed Chilld attain'd vnto ere heauen<br>
And now inioyes it with the Saints in heauen<br>
'''On the other side these'''<br>
'''18.''' Sub saxo ponor et vermib''us'' vltimo donor<br>
Et sicut his ponor ponitur omnis honor<br>
'''Vpon Cardinall Woolsey.'''
'''19.''' Braue preist, whoe euer was thy sire by Kinde<br>
Woolsey the butcher ne're begat thy minde<br>
'''Vpon one Parsons once Organist at Westminster.'''<br>
'''20.''' Death passing by and hearing Parsons play<br>
Stood still amazed at his depth of skill,<br>
And sayd, this artist must with me away<br>
for death bereaues vs of ''th''e better still. <br>
Yet let ''th''e Quire (till he keepes time) Sing on <br>
For Parson rests, his seruice being don.<br>
'''Vpon the fire vpon London Bridge by Tho[mas] Mott:'''<br>
21. Not fiue houres ere ''th''e sunne, the worlds greate eye<br>
Vnmask't our Hemispheres obscurity,<br>
London's vast bridge proud in Suppressing Thames<br>
Burn't, as if the riuer belch't out oyly flames<br>
Th'amazed people rose, when fresh supplies<br>
Could not be call'd for for distracted cryes;<br>
Nay th'envious water seeming to conspire<br>
On both sides damn'd the way to quench ''th''e fire,<br>
Besides<br>

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[[Category: Manuscripts]]
[[Category: 17th century]]
[[Category: Transcriptions]]
[[Category: Paleography]]