A Pangyre
On
the
happy
entrace
of
Iames,
our
Soveraigne,
to
His
first
high
Session
of
Parliament
in
this
his
Kingdome,
the
19
of
March,
1603.
Licet
toto
nunc
Helicone
frui.
Mart.
Heav'n
now
not
strives,
alone,
our
breasts
to
fill
With
joyes:
but
urgeth
his
full
favors
still.
Againe,
the
glory
of
our
Westerne
World
Unfolds
himselfe:
and
from
his
eyes
are
hoorl'd
(To
day)
a
thousand
radiant
lights,
that
streame
To
every
nook
and
angle
of
his
Realme.
His
former
rayes
did
only
cleare
the
sky;
But
these
his
searching
beams
are
cast,
to
pry
Into
those
dark
and
deep
concealed
vaults,
Where
men
commit
black
incest
with
their
faults;
And
snore
supinely
in
the
stall
of
sin:
Where
Murder,
Rapine,
Lust,
do
sit
within,
Carowsing
humane
blood
in
yron
bowles,
And
make
their
den
the
slaughter-house
of
soules:
From
whose
foule
reeking
cavernes
first
arise
Those
damps,
that
so
offend
all
good
mens
eyes,
And
would
(if
not
dispers'd)
infect
the
Crown,
And
in
their
vapor
her
bright
metall
drown.
To
this
so
cleare
and
sanctified
an
end,
I
saw,
when
reverend
Themis
did
descend
Upon
his
State;
let
down
in
that
rich
chaine,
That
fastneth
heavenly
power
to
earthly
raigne:
Beside
her,
stoup't
on
either
hand,
a
maid,
Faire
Dice,
and
Eunomia;
who
were
said
To
be
her
daughters:
and
but
faintly
known
On
earth,
till
now,
they
came
to
grace
his
throne.
Her
third,
Irene,
help'd
to
beare
his
traine;
And
in
her
office
vow'd
she
would
remaine,
Till
forraine
malice,
or
unnaturall
spight
(Which
Fates
avert)
should
force
her
from
her
right.
With
these
he
pass'd,
and
with
his
peoples
hearts
Breath'd
in
his
way;
and
soules
(their
better
parts)
Hasting
to
follow
forth
in
shouts,
and
cryes.
Upon
his
face
all
threw
their
covetous
eyes,
As
on
a
wonder:
some
amazed
stood,
As
if
they
felt,
but
had
not
known
their
good
Others
would
faine
have
shew'n
it
in
their
words:
But,
when
their
speech
so
poore,
a
help
affords
Unto
their
zeals
expression;
they
are
mute:
And
only
with
red
silence
him
salute.
Some
cry
from
tops
of
houses;
thinking
noyse
The
fittest
herald
to
proclaime
true
joyes:
Others
on
ground
run
gazing
by
his
side,
All,
as
unwearied,
as
unsatisfied:
And
every
windore
griev'd
it
could
not
move
Along
with
him,
and
the
same
trouble
prove.
They
that
had
seen,
but
foure
short
dayes
before,
His
gladding
look,
now
long'd
to
see
it
more.
And
as
of
late,
when
he
through
London
went,
The
amorous
City
spar'd
no
ornament,
That
might
her
beauties
heighten;
but
so
drest,
As
our
ambitious
Dames,
when
they
make
feast,
And
would
be
courted:
so
this
Town
put
on
Her
brightest
tyre;
and,
in
it,
equall
shone
To
her
great
sister:
save
that
modesty,
Her
place,
and
yeares,
grave
her
precedency.
The
joy
of
either
was
alike,
and
full;
No
age,
nor
sexe,
so
weak,
or
strongly
dull,
That
did
not
beare
a
part
in
this
consent
Of
hearts,
and
voyces.
All
the
aire
was
rent,
As
with
the
murmure
of
a
moving
wood;
The
ground
beneath
did
seeme
a
moving
flood:
Wals,
windores,
roofs,
towers,
steeples,
all
were
set
With
severall
eyes,
that
in
this
object
met.
Old
men
were
glad,
their
fates
till
now
did
last;
And
infants,
that
the
houres
had
made
such
hast
To
bring
them
forth:
Whil'st
riper
age'd,
and
apt
To
understand
the
more,
the
more
were
rapt.
This
was
the
peoples
love,
with
which
did
strive
The
Nobles
zeale,
yet
either
kept
alive
The
others
flame,
as
doth
the
wike
and
waxe,
That
friendly
temper'd,
one
pure
taper
makes.
Meane
while,
the
reverend
Themis
draws
aside
The
Kings
obeying
will,
from
taking
pride
In
these
vaine
stirs,
and
to
his
mind
suggests
How
he
may
triumph
in
his
Subjects
brests,
"With
better
pomp.
She
tels
him
first,
that
Kings
"Are
here
on
earth
the
most
conspicuous
things:
"That
they,
by
Heaven,
are
plac'd
upon
his
throne,
"To
rule
like
Heaven;
and
have
no
more
their
own,
"As
they
are
men,
then
men.
That
all
they
do
"Though
hid
at
home,
abroad
is
search'd
into:
"And
being
once
found
out,
discover'd
lyes
"Unto
as
many
envies,
there,
as
eyes.
"That
Princes,
since
they
know
it
is
their
fate,
"Oft-times,
to
have
the
secrets
of
their
State
"Betraid
to
fame,
should
take
more
care,
and
feare
"In
publique
acts
what
face
and
forme
they
beare.
"She
then
remembred
to
his
thought
the
place
"Where
he
was
going;
and
the
upward
race
"Of
Kings,
præceding
him
in
that
high
Court;
"Their
laws,
their
ends;
the
men
she
did
report:
"And
all
so
justly,
as
his
eare
was
joy'd
"To
heare
the
truth,
from
spight
of
flattery
voyd.
"She
shewd
him,
who
made
wise,
who
honest
Acts;
"Who
both,
who
neither:
all
the
cunning
tracts,
"And
thrivings
statutes
she
could
promptly
note;
"The
bloody,
base,
and
barbarous
she
did
quote;
"Where
laws
were
made
to
serve
the
tyran'
will;
"Where
sleeping
they
could
save,
and
waking
kill;
"Where
acts
gave
licence
to
impetuous
lust
"To
bury
Churches,
in
forgotten
dust,
"And
with
their
ruines
raise
the
panders
bowers:
"When,
publique
justice
borrow'd
all
her
powers
"From
private
chambers;
that
could
then
create
"Laws,
Judges,
Consellors,
yea
Prince,
and
State.
"All
this
she
told,
and
more,
with
bleeding
eyes;
"For
Right
is
as
compassionate
as
wise.
Nor
did
he
seeme
their
vices
so
to
love,
As
once
defend,
what
Themis
did
reprove.
For
though
by
right,
and
benefit
of
Times,
He
ownde
their
crowns,
he
would
not
so
their
crimes.
He
knew
that
Princes,
who
had
sold
their
fame
To
their
voluptuous
lusts,
had
lost
their
name;
And
that
no
wretch
was
more
unblest
than
he,
Whose
necessary
good
'twas
now
to
be
An
evill
King:
And
so
must
such
be
still,
Who
once
have
got
the
habit
to
do
ill.
One
wickednesse
another
must
defend;
For
vice
is
safe,
while
she
hath
vice
to
friend.
He
knew,
that
those,
who
would,
with
love,
command,
Must
with
a
tender
(yet
a
stedfast)
hand
Sustaine
the
reynes,
and
in
the
check
forbeare
To
offer
cause
of
injury,
or
feare.
That
Kings,
by
their
example,
more
do
sway
Than
by
their
power;
and
men
do
more
obay
When
they
are
led,
than
when
they
are
compell'd.
In
all
these
knowing
Arts
our
Prince
excell'd.
And
now
the
dame
had
dried
her
dropping
eyne,
When,
like
an
April
Iris,
flew
her
shine
About
the
streets,
as
it
would
force
a
spring
From
out
the
stones,
to
gratulate
the
King.
She
blest
the
people,
that
in
shoales
did
swim
To
heare
her
speech;
which
still
began
in
him,
And
ceas'd
in
them.
She
told
them,
what
a
fate
Was
gently
falne
from
Heaven
upon
this
State;
How
deare
a
father
they
did
now
enjoy
That
came
to
save,
what
discord
would
destroy:
And
entring
with
the
power
of
a
King,
The
temp'rance
of
a
private
man
did
bring,
That
wan
affections,
ere
his
steps
wan
ground;
And
was
not
hot,
or
covetous
to
be
crown'd
Before
mens
hearts
had
crown'd
him.
Who
(unlike
Those
greater
bodies
of
the
sky,
that
strike
The
lesser
fiers
dim)
in
his
accesse
Brighter
than
all,
hath
yet
made
no
one
lesse;
Though
many
greater:
and
the
most,
the
best.
Wherein,
his
choice
was
happy
with
the
rest
Of
his
great
actions,
first
to
see,
and
do
What
all
mens
wishes
did
aspire
unto.
Hereat,
the
people
could
no
longer
hold
Their
bursting
joyes;
but
through
the
ayre
was
rol'd
The
length'ned
showt,
as
when
th'artillery
Of
Heaven
is
discharg'd
along
the
sky:
And
this
confession
flew
from
every
voyce,
Never
had
Land
more
reason
to
rejoyce,
Nor
to
her
blisse,
could
ought
now
added
bee,
Save,
that
she
might
the
same
perpetuall
see.
Which
when
Time,
Nature,
and
the
Fates
deny'd,
With
a
twice
louder
shoute
again
they
cry'd,
Yet,
let
blest
Brittaine
aske
(without
your
wrong)
Still
to
have
such
a
King,
and
this
King
long.
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson (born June 11?, 1572, London, England—died August 6, 1637, London) English Stuart dramatist, lyric poet, and literary critic. He is generally regarded as the second most important English dramatist, after William Shakespeare, during the reign of James I. Among his major plays are the comedies Every Man in His Humour (1598), Volpone (1605), Epicoene; or, The Silent Woman (1609), The Alchemist (1610), and Bartholomew Fair (1614). Ben Jonson died in Westminster on August 8, 1637. A tremendous crowd of mourners attended his burial at Westminster Abbey. He is regarded as one of the major dramatists and poets of the seventeenth century.