Master of Arts and Fellow of King's Col. in Cambridge.
Bach. of the Civill Law, of Glouc. Hall Oxford.
Thou who as yet thy Steele dost feare
Which at thy back doth hang, and ne're
Did'st draw thy blade but for to show't,
Or tell the price for which 'twas bought;
See here the Art to use it, such,
That Naples scarce can teach so much:
Behold thy foe in paper bleede,
And cut, that pittie 'tis to reade,
(Here thou mayst learn to laugh at those,
At Callis, who to blinde their foes,
The Sand into their faces throw,
And then attempt a desperate blow)
Her's nobler shifts to foyle his hand;
To drink his blood let lie the sand:
Now thou art taught by finer art
To cut life's Gordian thread apart.
Pallas invites thee here to looke,
Read, and thy life's sav'd by the booke.
Fellow of Kings Colledge in Cambridge
Nuper ex AEd. Christ. Oxon. nunc de Gray Hospitis.
Master of Arts, sometimes of S. Peters Colledge in Cambridge.
Great Master of the Sword and Pen! poore we
Hang onely Trophies t'your humilitie;
We but increase your traine, not gild your Bayes,
Nor adde to th'shout of victory, your praise
Would weare a Caesers stile out; one that writes
With the same Art and Courage, that he fights
Mankind's your debtor, Sir: and should each one
Y'have fav'd a Garland bring, our Okes were gone;
Duells may now be lawfull: for to fight
Will be but Exercise, or Play in spight.
Each man's impassable, more safe from harme
Than if he wore a Lapland Witches charme.
And thou our Lawes forbid it, yet y'have tooke
A course to save the Dueller by's booke:
Pallas now scornes her Gorgon in ith' Field
Sheele make your Booke her Study and her Shield.
Wouldst be a Wonder? such a one
As could winne with a Looke?
A Schollar in a Garrison?
And conquer by the Booke?
Take then this Mathematick Shield
And henceforth by its Rules,
Be able to disput ith Field,
And combate in the Schooles.
Whil'st peacefull Learning once agen,
And th' Souldier do concorde,
As that he fights now with her Penne
And shee writes with his Sword.
A. Glouces: Oxon.
Here troopes of Figures muster, here along
March long-shank'd lines, & angles in a throng
The Sword's the Leader, and a sharpe one too,
That never brookes to word it, if he doe
But turne, they turne streight with him; Figures then
Disfigure, Angles vary, Lines begin
To cringe and crooke themselves and trembling flye
To corners: so they'r Angl'd instantly.
Tis well the Sword's the Leader, 'twould molest
To ranke him rightly more then all the rest.
The Lines claime him for theirs, and thus conclude
That needs must be a Line that's Longitude.
Should I so count Him? th' Angles would confute
My forwardnesse; cry out, are lines acute?
Ranke him with us; the body Sphericall.
Would next step in, thus argue, d'ont swords all
Touch plaxum still in puncto? So doe wee;
Tis plaine, this touchstone proves him kin to me.
Thus would they wrangle for him, though tis known
The Sword for equalls will admit of none.
Hee'd make them soone confesse their properties,
By cutting them into infinities.
Mysterious Artist! whose profounder skill
Has made the Sword a Scholler g'ainst its will,
Has made it learn'd, and, though it selfe not knowes
To make a Geometrick figure in its blowes.
New Coll. Ox. Fell.
Thankes Mathematick Fencer, that dost tye
The Sword to th'booke and fight in Geometry.
That hast given eares to weapons and dost cause
Armes to be subject to the voice of lawes.
Proceed thus in thy Miracles; be read
And wonderd at, the same path few can tread.
Fell. new Coll. in Oxon.