His Poems publish’d after his death, and usher’d into the World by the best Wits of those times, passed the Test with general applause, and have gone through several Impressions; To praise one, were in some sort to dispraise the other, being indeed all praise-worthy.  His Cambridge Duns facetiously pleasing, as also his Parley with his Empty Purse, in their kind not out-done by any.  He was by Ben.  Johnson adopted for his Son, and that as is said upon this occasion.

Mr. Randolph having been at London so long as that he might truly have had a parley with his Empty Purse, was resolved to go see Ben.  Johnson with his associates, which as he heard at a set-time still kept a Club together at the Devil-Tavern near Temple-Bar; accordingly at the time appointed he went thither, but being unknown to them, and wanting Money, which to an ingenious spirit is the most daunting thing in the World, he peep’d in the Room where they were, which being espied by Ben.  Johnson, and seeing him in a Scholars thredbare habit, John Bo-peep, says he, come in, which accordingly he did, when immediately they began to rime upon the meanness of his Clothes, asking him, If he could not make a Verse? and withal to call for his Quart of Sack; there being four of them, he immediately thus replied,

  I John Bo-peep, to you four sheep,
    With each one his good fleece,
  If that you are willing to give me five shilling,
    ’Tis fifteen pence a piece.

By Jesus quoth Ben.  Johnson, (his usual Oath) I believe this is my Son Randolph, which being made known to them, he was kindly entertained into their company, and Ben.  Johnson ever after called him Son.

He wrote besides his Poems, the Muses Looking-glass, Jealous Lovers, and Hey for Honesty, down with Knavery, Comedies; Amintas, a Pastoral, and Aristippus, an Interlude.

* * * * *

Sir JOHN BEAUMONT Baronet.

Sir John Beaumont was one who Drank as deep Draughts of Helicon as any of that Age; and though not many of his Works are Extant, yet those we have be such as are displayed on the Flags of highest Invention; and may justly Stile him to be one of the chief of those great Souls of Numbers.  He wrote besides several other things, a Poem of Bosworth Field, and that so Ingeniously, as one thus writes of it.

  Could divine Maro, hear his Lofty Strain;
  He would condemn his Works to fire again.

I shall only give you an Instance of some few lines of his out of the aforesaid Poem, and so conclude.