Untill they reach these_ Mysteries _of Wit.
The_ Intellectuall Language _here's exprest,
Admir'd in better times, and dares the Test
Of Ours; for from_ Wit, Sweetnesse, Mirth, _and_ Sence,
_This Volume springs a new true_ Quintessence.

JO. PETTUS, Knight.


On the Works of the most excellent Dramatick Poet, Mr. _John F[l]etcher_,
never before Printed.

Haile_ Fletcher, _welcome to the worlds great Stage;
For our two houres, we have thee here an age
In thy whole Works, and may th'_ Impression _call
The_ Pretor _that presents thy Playes to all:
Both to the People, and the_ Lords _that sway
That_ Herd, _and Ladies whom those Lords obey.
And what's the Loadstone can such guests invite
But moves on two Poles,_ Profit _and_ Delight,
_Which will be soon, as on the Rack, confest
When every one is tickled with a jest:
And that pure_ Fletcher, _able to subdue
A_ Melancholy _more then_ Burton _knew.
And though upon the by, to his designes
The_ Native _may learne English from his lines,
And_ th' Alien _if he can but construe it,
May here be made free_ Denison _of wit.
But his maine end does drooping_ Vertue _raise,
And crownes her beauty with eternall_ Bayes;