Nero after paracidall guilt Brooks no delay till Lucan's blood be spilt Nor could his malice finde a second crime Unlesse he slew the Poet of the time But thanks to Hëllicon here are no blowes This Drone no more of sting then honey shewes His Verses shall be counted Censure when Cast Malefactors are made Jury-men Mean while rejoyce that so disgrac't a quill Tempted to wound that worth time cannot kill And thou that darest to blast Fame fully blown Lye buried in the ruines of thy owne Vexe not thine ashes open not the deep The Ghosts of thy slaine name had rather sleep On Luce Morgan a Common-Whore EPIGRAM HEre lies black Luce that Pick-hatch drab Who had a word for every stab Was leacherous as any Sparrow Her Quiver ope to every Arrow Wert long or short or black or white She would be sure to noch it right Wer 't Lords or Knights or Priests or Squires Of any sort except a Friers A Friers shast she lackt alone Because in England here was none At last some Vestall fire she stole Which never went out in her hole And with that zealous fire being burn'd Unto the Romish faith she turn'd And therein dy'd and was 't not fit For a poor whore to dye in it An Epitaph on a Whore IN this cold Monument lyes one Which I know who hath lain upon The happyer he whose sight might charm And touch might keep King David warme Lovely as is the dawning East Was this Marbles frozen guest As glorious and as bright as day As oderiferous as May. As straight and slender as the Crest Or Antler of the one beam'd Beast Whom I admired as soon as knew And now her memory pursue With such a superstitious Lust That I could fumble with her dust She all perfections had and more Tempting as if design'd an Whore For so she was and some there are Whores I could wish them all as faire Courteous she was and young and wise And in her calling so precise That industry had made her prove The sucking School-mistresse of Love But Death ambitious to become Her Pupill left his gastly home And seeing how we us'd her here The raw-bone Raskall ravish'd her Who pretty Soule resign'd her breath To practice Lechery with death A mock-song 1. OH Love whose power and might No Creature ere withstood Thou forcest me to write Come turne about Robin Hood 2. Sole Mistresse of my heart Let me thus farre presume To make this bold request A black patch for the Rhume 3. Grant pitty or I die Love so my heart bewitches With grief I houle and cry Oh how my Elbow Itches 4. Teares overflow my eyes With flouds of daily weeping That in the silent night I cannot rest for sleeping 5. What is' t I would not doe To purchase one sweet smile Bid me to China goe Faith I 'le sit still the while 6. Oh Women you will never But thinke men still will flatter I vow I love you ever But yet it is no matter 7. Cupid is blind they say But yet methinkes he seeth He struck my heart to day A Turd in Cupids teeth 8. Her Tresses that are wrought Much like the golden snare My loving heart hath caught As Mosse did catch his Mare 9. But since that all reliefe And comfort doe forsake me I 'le kill my selfe with grief Nay then the Devill take me 10. And since her gratefull merits My loving look must lack I 'le stop my vitall spirits With Claret and with Sack 12. Marke well my wofull hap Jove rector of the Thunder Send down thy thunder clap And rend her smock in sunder The Answer 1. YOur Letter I receiv'd Bedect with flourishing quarters Because you are deceiv'd Goe hang you in your Garters 2. My beauty which is none Yet such as you protest Doth make you sigh and groan Fie fie you doe but jest 3. I cannot chuse but pitty Your restlesse mournefull teares Because your plaints are witty You may goe shake your eares 4. To purchase your delight No labour you shall leese Your paines I will requite Maid fetch him Bread and Cheese 5. 'T is you I faine would see 'T is you I daily thinke on My looks as kinde shall be As the Devills over Lincoln 6. If ever I doe tame Great Jove of Lightnings flashes I l'e send my fiery flame And burne thee into ashes 7. I can by no meanes misse thee But needs must have thee one day I prethee come and kisse me Whereon I sat on Sunday In praise of his Mistrisses beauty 1. I Have the fairest non-perell The fairest that ever was seen And had not Venus been in the way She had been beauties Queen 2. Her lovely looks her comely grace I will describe at large God Cupid put her in his bookes And of this Jem took charge 3. The Graecian Hellen was a Moore Compar'd to my dear Saint And faire fac'd Hyrens beauty poor And yet she doth not paint 4. Andromeda whom Peseus lov'd Was foule were she in sight Her lineaments so well approv'd In praise of her I 'le write 5. Her haire not like the golden wire But black as any Crow Her browes so betl'd all admire Her forehead wondrous low 6. Her squinting stareing gogling eyes Poor children doe affright Her nose is of the Sarasens size Oh she 's a matchlesse wight 7. Her Oven mouth wide open stands And teeth like rotten pease Her Swan-like neck my heart commands And breasts all bit with Fleas 8. Her tawny dugs like too great hills Hang Sow-like to her waste Her body huge like two Wind-mills And yet shee 's wondrous chaste 9. Her shoulders of so large a breadth Shee 'd make an excellent Porter And yet her belly carries most If any man could sort her 10. No Shoulder of Mutton like her Hand For broadnesse thick and fat With a pocky Mange upon her Wrist Oh Jove how love I that 11. Her Belly Tun-like to behold Her bush doth all excell The thing that 's by all men extol'd Is wider then a Well 12. Her brawny buttocks plump and round Much like a Horse of Warre With speckled Thighs scan'd and scarce sound Her Knees like Bakers are 13. Her Legs are like the Elephants The Calfe and small both one Her Anckles they together meet And still knock bone to bone 14. Her pretty feet not 'bove fifteens So splay'd as never was An excellent Usher for a man That walkes the dewy grasse 15. Thus have you heard my Mistrisse prais'd And yet no flattery us'd Pray tell me is she not of worth Let her not be abus'd 16. If any to her have a minde He doth me wondrous wrong For as shee 's Beauteous so shee 's Chaft And thus conclude my Song A SONG 1. WHen young folkes first begin to love And undergoe that tedious taske It cut 's and scowres throughout the powers Much like a running glasse 2. It is so full of sodain joyes Proceeding from the Heart So many tricks and so many toyes And all
not worth a Fart 3. For Venus loved Vulcan Yet she would lye with Mars If these be honest tricks my love sweet love come kisse mine 4. If that which I have writ Be unmannerly in speech Yet when occasion serves to shire Will serve to wipe your breech 5. Thus kindly and in Courtesie These few lines I have written And now O love come kisse mine For I am all beshitten A Song of the Sea-Men and Land-soldiers 1. WE Sea-men are the bonny-boyes That feare no stormes nor Rocks a Whose Musick is the Canons noise Whose sporting is with knocks a. 2. Mars has no children of his owne But we that fight on Land a Land-soldiers Kingdomes up have blown Yet they unshaken stand a. 3. 'T is brave to see a tall Ship faile With all her trim gear on a As though the Devill were in her taile She fore the winde will run a. 4. Our maine battalia when it moves there 's no such glorious thing a Where leaders like so many Joves Abroad their thunder fling a. 5. Come let us reckon what Ships are ours The Gorgon and the Dragon The Lyon that in fight is bold The Bull with bloody flag on 6. Come let us reckon what Workes are ours Forts Bulwarks Barricadoes Mounts Gabions parrapits countermurs Casemates and Pallisadoes 7. The Bear the Dog the Fox the Kite That stood fast on the Rover They chas'd the Turk in a day and night From Scandaroon to Dover 8. Field-pieces Muskets Groves of Pikes Carbines and Canoneers a Squadrons half Moons with Rankes and Files And Fronts and Vans and Reers a. 9. A Health to brave Land-soldiers all Let Cans a piece goe round a Pell-mell let 's to the Battaile fall And lofty musick sound a. A Song MY dear and onely love take heed How thou thy selfe expose And let no longing Lovers feed On such like looks as those I 'le Marble wall thee round about Being built without a door But if my Love doth once break out I 'le never love thee more Nor let their Oaths by volleys shot Make any breach at all Nor smoothnesse of their language plot A way to scale the wall Nor balls of Wilde-fire Love consume The shrine that I adore For if such smoak about thee fume I 'le never love thee more Thy wishes are as yet too strong To suffer by surprize And victed with my Love so long Of force the siege must rife And leave thee in that strength of health And state thou wert before But if thou prove a Common-wealth I 'le never love thee more Or if by fraud or by consent My heart to ruine come I 'le ne'r sound Trumpet as I meant Nor march by beat of Drum But fould mine Armes like Ensignes up Thy falshood to deplore And after such a bitter cup I 'le never love thee more Then doe by thee as Nero did When Rome was set on fire Not onely all reliefe forbid But to a hill retire And scorne to shed a teare to save Such spirits grown so poore But laugh and sing thee to thy grave And never love thee more A Song 1. WHen Phoebus address'd his course to the West And took up his rest below And Cynthia agreed in a glittering weed Her light in his stead to bestow I travel d alone attended by none Till sodainly I heard one cry Oh doe not doe not kill me yet For I am not prepared to aye 2. With that I came neer to see and to hear And there did appeare a show The Moon was so bright I saw such a sight Not fit that each wight should know A Man and a Maid together were laid And ever she cry'd Oh fye Oh doe not doe not kill me yet For I am not prepared to dye 3. The young man was rough and he took up her stuffe And to blind man buffe he would go Yet still she did cry but still she did lye And put him but by with a no But she was so young and he was so strong Which made her still to cry Oh doe not doe not kill me For I am not prepared to dye 4. With that he gave o're and solemnly swore He would kill her no more that night He bid her adue for little he knew She would tempt him to more delight But being to depart it grieved her heart Which made her loud to cry Oh kill me kill me once againe For now I am prepared to dye A SONG I Courted a Lasse my folly was the cause of her disdaining I courted her thus what shall I sweet Dolly doe for thy dear loves obteining But another had dallied with this my Dolly that Dolly for all her faining Had got such a Mountain above her Valley that Dolly went home complaining Upon my Lord Majors day being put off by reason of the Plague IF you 'l but hear me I shall tell A sad mischance that late befell for which the dayes of old In all new Almanacks must mourne And Babes that never must be borne shall weep to hear it told For loe the sport of that great day In which the Major hath leave to play and with him all the town Hâ—s Flag and Drum and Fife releas'd And he forbid to goe a Feasting in his Scarlet Gowne No Fife must on the Thames be seen To fright the Major and please the Queen nor any wilde-fire tost Though he suppose the Fleet that late Invaded us in eighty eight o're matcht by his Gally foist The Pageants and the painted cost Bâ—stowed on them are all quite lost for now he must not ride Nor shall they sheare the Players tall Being mounted on some mighty Whale swims with him through Cheap-side Guild-hall now must not entertaine The Major who there would feast his brain with white-broth and with Hen Nor shall the Fencers act their Piggs Before the Hinch-boyes which are Giggs whipt out with all the men Nor must he goe in state to sweare As he was wont at Westminster no Trumpets at the Hall Their clamorous voices there would stretch As if the Lawyers they would teach in their owne Courts to baul But what in sooth is pitty most Is for their Daughters they have lost all joyes for which they pray Which scatter palmes on their cheeks Which they had prim'd at least three weeks before against the day And ' mongst themselves they much complain That this Lord Major in first of reigne should doe them so much wrong As to suppresse by message sad The feast for which they all have had their March-pane dream so long Thus for their beauteous sakes have I Describ'd the dayes large History 't is true although not witty Which is deny'd for I 'de be loath To cut my coat above my cloath my Subject is the City A Song by Sir John Suckling OUt upon it I have lov'd three whole dayes together And perchance might love three more if that it hold faire weather Time shall melt his wing away e're he can discover In the whole wide world againe
beginneth the Book O All you cliptick spirits of the Sphears That have no sence to hear or use of cares And you in number seven celestiall Signes That Poets have made use of in their Rhimes And by which men may guess what seasons good To gueld their Bore-pigs or to let horse blood List to my dolefull glee oh list I say Unto the complaint of Penellope She was a Lover I and so was he As loving unto her as she to he But marke how things were altered in a moment Vlisses was a Graecian borne I so meant To have informed you first but since t is 'ore It is as well as I had don 't before He being as I said a Greek there rose A quarrell 'twixt the Trojans and their foes I meane the Graecians whereof he was one But let that passe he was old Priam's sonne This gallant biding where full many a mother Was oft bereft of child sister and Brother His Lady longing earnestly for his presence Writes him certain Letters whereof here was the sense * Being up to the Elbowes in Love My pretty duck my pigsnie my Vlysses Thy Wife Penellope sends a thousand kisses As to her hearts great joy a friendly greeting Wish in thy company but not thy meeting With enemies or fiery spirits in armour The which perchance may doe thee harme or Make thee their Prisoner clap on their Bolts And Locks upon thy legs such as weare Colts But send me word and ere that thou want ransome A man so brave so comly and so hansome I le sell my Smock both from my back and belly Ere thou want money means or meat I tell thee †Penelope â—imes to any thing as our Author saith When that Vlisses all in grief envelloped Had read the true-love complement of Penelope Laid one hand on his heart and said 't was guilty Beating the other with his Dagger hilty And dolefully exprest one of the Verses The which our Author in his book rehearses 'T is true quoth he Loves troubles make me tamer Res est soliciti plena timor is amor When as before Vlysses just there stood A platter of pease pottage wondrous good And against that the God of Love was place Made of a March-pane carv'd out of Rye past To make that true the which the proverb speaks The one the Heart the other Belly breaks Penelope to glad her welcome guest Resolv'd to have some Fidlers at the feast Amongst the various consort chusing them * Where doe men use to wear their Armes but in their sleeves Who in their sleeves the armes of Agamemnon in the next verse were cry'd in a rage Sing me some song made in the Iron-age The Iron-age quoth he that us'd to sing This to my minde the Black-smiths song doth bring The Black smith quoth Vlysses and there holloweth Whoop is there a Song le ts ha 't it followeth SONG OF all the Trades that ever I see There 's none to the Black-smith compared may be With so many severall tools works he Which no body can deny The first that ever Thunderbolts made Was a Cyclops of the Black-smiths trade As in a learned Author is said Which no body c. When thundering-like we strike about The fire like Lightning flashes out Which suddenly with Water we dout Which no body c. The fairest Goddesse in the Skies To marry with Vulcan did advise And he was a Black smith grave and wise Which no body c. Vulcan he to doe her right Did build her a Town by day and by night And gave it a name which was Hammersmith hight Which no body c. Vulcan farther did acquaint her That a pretty estate he would appoint her And leave her Seacole-lane for a joynture Which no body c. And that no enemy might wrong her He built her a fort you 'd wish no stronger Which was the lane of Iron-monger Which no body c. Smithfield he did cleanse from durt And sure there was great reason for 't For there he meant she should keep her Court Which no body c. But after in a good time and tide It was by the Black-smith rectified To the honour of Edmund Iron-side Which no body c. Vulcan after made a Traine Wherein the God of Warre was tane Which ever since hath been call'd Paul's chaine Which no body c. The common Proverb as it is read That a man must hit the naile on the head Without the Black-smith cannot be said Which no body c. Another Proverb must not be forgot And falls unto the Black-smiths lot That a man strike while the Iron is hot Which no body c. Another comes in most proper and fit The Black-smiths justice is seen in it When you give a man roast and beat him with the spit Which no body c. Another comes in our Black-smiths way When things are safe as old wives say We have them under Lock and Key Which no body c. Another that 's in the Black-smiths books And onely to him for remedy looks Is when a Man 's quite off of the hooks Which no body c. Another Proverb to him doth belong And therefore le ts do the Black-smith no wrong When a man 's held hard too 't buckle and thong Which no body c. Another Proverb doth make me laugh Wherein the Black-smith may chalenge halfe When a reason 's as plaine as a Pike staffe Which no body c. Though your Lawyers travell both neer and far And by long pleading a good cause may mar Yet your Black-smith takes more pains at th' Bar. Which no body c. Though your Scrivener seek to crush and to kill By his counterfeit deeds and thereby doth ill Yet your Black-smith he may forge what he will Which no body c. Though your Bankrupt Citizens lurk in their holes And laugh at their Creditors and their Catchpoles Yet your Black-smith can fetch them over the Coales Which no body c. Though Jocky in the Stable be never so neat To look to his Nag and prescribe him his meat Yet your Black-smith knows better how to give a heat Which no body c. If any Tailor have the Itch The Black-smiths Water as black as pitch Will make his hands goe through stich Which no body c. There 's never a Slut if filth o're-smuch her But owes to the Black-smith for her leachor For without a paire of Tongues there 's no man will touch her Which no body c. Your roaring boyes who every one quailes Fights domineers swaggers and railes Could never yet make the Smith eat his nailes Which no body c. If any Scholler be in a doubt And cannot well bring his matter about The Black-smith he can hammer it out Which no body c. Now if to know him you would desire You must not scorne but ranke him higher For what he gets is out of the fire Which no body c. Now here
sacrifice Silent as sorrows lodgings had I dwelt Followed with my despaire and never felt Anger except in living hadst thou bin Content with my undoing but that 's a sin I never shall forgive thee to upbrade A wretchednesse which thou thy selfe hast made Heaven knows I suffered and I suffered so That by me 't was infallible to know How passive man is Fate knew not a curse But in thy new content to make it worse And that thou gav'st me when I so low was brought That I knew nought but thee and then I thought And counted sighs and teares as if to scan The Aire and Water which composeth man Diseased I was diseased past thine own cure Yet wouldst thou kill what made me to endure My patience strange murderesse would you prove Whether that were as mortal as your love Have women such a way as they can give To men denial and with love to live Why then abhor'd reason tell me why Successelesse Lovers doe so quickly die And be it so with me but if a curse May first be fastend on thee which is worse Than thy unwept for vow breach may it come As thy sins heape may the tedious some Of thy great sins stand centinel to keep Repentance from thy thoughts reach may the sleep Be broken as my hopes bove all may he Thou chusest husband grow to jealousie Then finde it true and kill thee may the themes On which thy thoughts do paraphrase in dreames Be my sad wrongs when some other shall Whom Fate with me hath made Apocriphal In loving stories search and instance forth To damne his Mistriss for as little worth Let thy name meet him under which let be A common place of womens perjury May heavens make all this true and if thou pray Let God esteeme it as thou didst the pay Of thy last promise I have said be free This pennance done my day of destiny By thee is antidated but three sighs First I must pay admission to the skies One for my madnesse to love women so That I could think thee true the next I le throw For wronged Lover that I le breath a new The last shall beg my curses be made true Cupides Holyday LAdies whose marble hearts despise Loves soft impressions whose chast eyes Nere shot a glance but might be seene Diana and her maidens teeme Of icy Virgins hence away Disturb not our licentious play For now It's Cupids Holyday Goe glory in that empty name Of Virgin let your idle flame Consume it selfe while we enjoy Those pleasures which fair Venus boy Grants to those whose mingled thighes Are Trophies of his Victories From whence new pleasures still arise Those onely are admitted here Whose looser thoughts nere knew of care Of mans embraces whose faire face Can give enjoyment such a grace As wipes away that hated name Of lust and calls their Amorous flame A virtue free from feare or shame With them wee l number kisses till We pose Arithmetick and fill Our hearts with pleasures till it swells Bey ond those bounds where blushing dwells Then will we our selves intombe In those Joyes which fill the wombe Till sleep possesseth Cupids roome At waking no repentance shall With our past sweetnesse mingle gall Wee l kisse again till we restore Our strength again to venture more Then wee l renew again our play Admitting of no long delay Till we end our Holyday To his VVhore who askt money of him WHat is' t that fans my fancies thus So coole of late I 'm grown Methinkes I'm not so rigorous How quickly I lie alone Nor doth her absence with one sigh bemoan Hence doth this chilness seize my back This frost my blood benumbe When I to my Corinna spake To yeild to love she askt of me a sum Would Cupid I had deafe been or she dumb Those glances I ador'd before How do I now despise T is money onely makes a Whore She 's chast that with a thousand lies For love at such a one my members rise Let Jove his Danais enjoy Nor envyed be for me If ere Jane Shore my Mistrisse cloy It shall be when I 'm as old as he Till then I le ne're commit that Simmony If your affections pelfe must imp Goe get another friend My pocket ne're shall be my pimpe Nor will I for your love depend On dirt yet no man shall more freely spend No no I will not rent your bed Nor your smock-tenant be I will not farme your white and red You shall not let your to me I court a Mistrisse not a Landlady Judgement forbids me too my deare To keep thy love in pay As hence it plainly doth appear Loves a little boy they say And who but fools give children mony pray Loves nakednesse you do mistake And hence proceeds your fin Which shewes he will no money take He hath no purse to put it in Then doe it freely or for me go spin On the Souldiers walking in the New Exchange to affront the Ladies I Le go no more to the New Exchange There is no roome at all It is so throng'd and crowded by The gallants of White Hall But I le goe to the Old Exchange Where old things are in fashion For now the Kews become the shop Of this blessed Reformation Come my new Courtlers what d' ye lack Good consciences if you doe Here 's long and wide the onely weare The straight will trouble you You powdersellers here will thrive No customers can you lake Onely resolve to change the dye Your powder must be black And with you here take my advice Get Pistols stead of Puffes Instead of sweet balls bullets get And gauntlet stead of muffes Come my new Courtiers c. You that are Ribbon sellers too Your broken trades may patch If you those guegawes can put off And barter them for match You that fine Cabinets do sell Your shops and ware may burn Her Ladiship hates all those toyes A Snapsack serves her turne Come my new Courtiers c. You that sell Bookes I pitty most You are undone I see 't Unlesse you will rebellion sell At a penny by the sheet If so you have a thriving trade For Customers goe no further For these blood Merchants at deare rates Engrosse all rape and murther Come my new Courtiers c. Undone undone Confectioners Alas there is no hopes Unlesse you will give o're your trads And set up Sutlers shops Your Apricockes your Ringo roots Your Marmalad will not sell Get you conserves of bread cheese You 'l beare away the Bell. Come my new Courtiers what dlye lake Good Consciences if you doe Here 's long and wide the onely weare The straite will trouble you Another WHy should we not laugh and be jolly Since all the World is mad And lull'd in a dull melancholly He that wallows in store Is still gaping for more And that makes him as poor As the wretch that nere any thing had How mad is that damn'd money-monger That to purchase to
T' th' new world in the Moon away let us goe For if the Dutch Colony get thither first 'T is a thousand to one but they 'le draine that too Then apace apace drink c. Nonsense OH that my Lungs could bleat like butter'd pease But bleating of my lungs hath caught the itch And are as mangy as the Irish-Seas That doth ingender windmills on a Bitch I grant that Rainbowes being lull'd asleep Snort like a woodknife in a Ladies eyes Which maks her grieve to see a pudding creep For creeping puddings onely please the wise Not that a hard row'd-herring should presum To swing a tyth pig in a Cateskin purse For fear the hailstons which did fall at Rome By lesning of the fault should make it worse For 't is most certain Winter wool-sacks grow From geese to swans if men could keep them so Till that the sheep shorn Planets gave the hint To pickle pancakes in Geneva print Some men there were that did supose the skie Was made of Carbonado'd Antidotes But my opinion is a Whales left eye Need not be coyned all King Harry groates The reason 's plain for Charons westerne barge Running a tilt at the subjunctive mood Beckned to Bednal green gave him charge To fasten padlockes with Antartick food The end will be the Millponds must be laded To fish for whitepots in a Country dance So they that suffered wrong were upbraded Shal be made freinds in a left-handed trance In praise of Ale WHenas the Chilehe Rocko blowes And Winter tells a heavy tale When Pyes and Dawes Rookes Crows Sit cursing of the frosts and snowes Then give me Ale Ale in Saxon Rumken then Such as will make grim Malkin prate Rouseth up valour in all men Quickens the Poets wit and pen Dispiseth Fate Ale that the absent battle fights And frams the march of Swedish drums Disputes the Princes Lawes and rights And what is past and what 's to come Tells mortal wights Ale that the Plowmans heart up keeps And equals it with Tyrants thrones That wipes the eyes that over weepes And lulls in dainty and secure sleepes His wear'ed bones Grandchilde of Cores Barlies Daughter Wines Emulus neighbour if but stale Innobling all the Nimphs of water And filling each mans heart with laughter Ha ha give me Ale A Ridle of a Goosbery THere is a Bush fit for the once That beareth pricks and precious stones The fruit of which most Ladies pull 'T is round and smooth and plump and full It yeilds rare moysture pure and thick And seldome makes a Lady sicke They put it in and then they move it Which makes it melt and then they love it So what was round and plump and hard Growes lanck and thin and poor and mar'd The sweetness suckt their holes wipe they And throw the empty skin away A Bull Prologue YOu that do fitting stand to see our Play Which must this night be acted here to day Be silent pray though you aloud do talk Stir not a foot though up down you walk For every silent noise the Players see Will make them mute speak full angerly But go not yet until you do depart And unto us your smiling frownes impart And we most thanklesse thankful will appear And waite upon you home but yet stay here Another Prologue BE blithe Fopdodles for my Author knows How to delight your eyes your ears your nose But first of all your eyes shall pleased be With cloth of Gold Tyssue and Taffate Blow but your nose and purifie that sense For you shal smell perfumes franck incense And eke soft musick therefore fit you still Smile like the Lilly flower whilst trumpets sound And our endeavours with your love be crown'd An Epilogue upon the honest Lawyer Gentlemen He that wrot this Play ne'er made Play before And if this like not ne're wil write Play more And so he bid me tell you A Resolution not to Marry IF she be fair I feare the rest If she be sweet I le hope the best If she be faire they 'l say she 'l doe If she be foule she 'l doe so too If she be faire she 'l breed suspect If she be foule she 'l breed neglect If she be borne of the better sort Then she doth savour of the Court If she be of the City borne She 'l give the City armes the horne If she be borne of Parents base I scorne her virtues for her place If she be faire and wirty too I feare the harme her wit may do If she be faire and do want wit I love no beauty without it In briefe be what she will I 'm one That can love all but will wed none Loves Progresse WHo ever loves if he do not propose The right true end of love hes one that goes To sea for nothing but to make him sick And love's a beare whelp born if over licke Our love and cause it new strange forms to take We erre and of a lump a monster make Were not a Calfe a Monster that was grown Fac't like a man though better then his own Perfection is in Unity so prefer One woman first and then one thing in her I where I value Gold may think upon The dactilenesse the application The wholesomenesse the ingenuity From rust from soile from fire forever free But if I love it 't is because its made By our new nature use the soul of trade All this in women we might think upon If women had them and yet love but one Can men more injure women then to say They love for that by which they are not they Makes virtue woman must I cool my blood Till I both finde and see one wise and good May barren Angels love so But if we Make love to woman virtue is not she As beauty is not nor wealth he that strayes thus From her to hers is more Adulterous Then he that took her maid Search every spheare firmament our Cupid is not there He 's an infernal good and under ground With Pluto dwells where gold fire abound Men to such gods their sacrificing coales Laid not on Altars but in pits and holes Although we see Celestial bodies move Above the earth the earth we till and love So we her heires contemplate words heart And virtues but we love the centrique part Nor is the soul more worthy or more fit For love then that as infinite as it But in attaining this desired place How much they erre that set out at the face The haire a Forrest is of ambushes Of springs snares fetters and manicles The brow becalms us when t is sooth plain And when t is wrinkled shipwracks us again Smooth 't is a Paradise where we would have Imortal stay and wrinkled 't is our grave The nose like to the first Meridian runs Not twixt an East West but twixt two suns It leaves a cheeke a rosey Hemispheare On either side and then directs us where Upon the Islands fortunate we fall Not faint Canaries but Ambrosial Her swelling lips to which when we are come We anchor there think our selves at home For they sing all their Syrens songs there Wise Delphique Oracles do fill the eare There in a Creek where chosen Pearles do swell The Remora her cleaving tongue doth dwell Those and the promontary faire her chinne Ore past and the straight Hellespont between The Sestos and Abidos of her breasts Not of two Lovers but two loves the nests Succeeds a boundlesse Sea but that thine eye Some Island moles may scattered there discry And sailing towards her India in that way Shall at her faire Atlantique Navel stay Though thence the torrent be thy Pilot made Yet ere thou come where thou wouldest be imbay'd Thou shalt upon another forrest set Where many shipwracke and no farther get When thou art there Consider well this chace Mispent by the beginning at the face Rather set out below practice my art Some simitry the foot hath with that part Which thou dost seek and is as Map for that Lovely enough to stoop but not stay at Least subject to disguise and change it is Men say the Devil never can change his It is the Emblem that hath figured Firmnesse 't is the first part that comes to bed Civility we see refin'd the kisse Which at the face begun transplanted is Since to the hand since to the Imperial knee Now at the papal foot delights to be If Kings think that the nearer way and do Kisse from the foot Lovers may do so too For as free Sphears move faster far than can Birds whom the aire resists so may that man Which goes the empty and Aetherial wayes Then if at beauties elements he stayes Rich nature hath in women wisely made Two purses and their mouths aversly laid Thus they which to the lower tribute owe That way which that Exchequer looks must go He which doth not his error is as great As who by glister gives the stomack meat J. D. FINIS