Selected quad for the lemma: heaven_n
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A15639
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Faire-virtue, the mistresse of Phil'arete. Written by George Wither
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Wither, George, 1588-1667.
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1622
(1622)
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STC 25903B; ESTC S120248
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69,799
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238
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all their due I can most contentments see That in loue or women be Though I dote not on the features Of our daintiest female creatures Nor was ere so void of shames As to play their lawlesse games I more prize a snowye Hand Then the gold on Tagus strand And a daintie Lippe before All the greatest Monarcks store Yea from these I reape as true And as large contents as you Yet to them I am not tide I haue rarer sweets espide Wider prospects of true pleasure Then your curbed thoughts can measure In her Soule my Soule descries Obiects that may feede her eyes And the beauty of her mind Shewes my Reason where to finde All my former pleasure doubled Neither with such passion troubled As wherewith it oft was crost Nor so easie to be lost I that rauisht lay wel-nigh By the lustre of her eye And had almost sworne affection To the fore exprest perfection As if nothing had been higher Whereunto I might aspire Now haue found by seeking nearer Inward worth that shining clearer By a sweet and secret mouing Drawes me to a dearer louing And whilst I that loue conceiue Such impressions it doth leaue In the Intellectiue part As defaceth from my hart Eu'rie thought of those delights Which allure base appetits And my mind so much imploies In contemplating those ioyes Which a purer sight doth find In the beauty of her Mind That I so thereon am set As me thinkes I could forget All her sweetest outward graces Though I lay in her imbraces But some thinking with a smile What they would haue done the while Now suppose my words are such As exceed my power too much For all those our Wantons hold Void of Vigor dull and cold Or at best but fooles whose flame Makes not way vnto their shame Though at length with griefe they see They the fooles doe proue to be These the body so much minded That their Reason ouer-blinded By the pleasures of the Sence Hides from them that excellence And that sweetnes whose true worth I am here to blazon forth T is not t is not those rare graces That doe lurke in womens faces T is not a displayd perfection Youthfull eyes nor cleare complexion Nor a skin smooth-satten like Nor a daintie Rosie cheeke That to wantonnesse can moue Such as vertuously doe loue Beautie rather gently drawes Wild Desires to Reasons Lawes And oft frights men from that sin They had else transgressed in Through a sweet amazement stroke From an ouer-ruling looke Beautie neuer tempteth men To lasciuiousnes but when Carelesse Idlenesse hath brought Wicked longings into thought Nor doth youth or heat of blood Make men prooue what is not good Nor the strength of which they vaunt T is the strength and power they want And the basenesse of the Mind Makes their bruit desires enclind To persue those vaine delights Which affect their Appetites And so blinded doe they grow Who are ouertaken so As their dulnes cannot see Nor beleeue that better be Some haue blood as hot as their Whose affections loosest are Bodies that require no art To supply weake Natures part Youth they haue and sure might to Boast of what some shamelesse doe Yet their Minds that aime more high Then those baser pleasures lye Taught by Virtue can suppresse All attempts of wantonnesse And such powerfull motiues frame To extinguish Passions flame That by Reasons good direction Quallifying loose affection Thei le in midst of Beauties fires Walke vnscorcht of ill Desires Yet no such as stupid shame Keeps from actions worthy blame But in all so truly Man That their apprehensions can Prize the bodies vtmost worth And find many pleasures forth In those Beauties more then You That abuse them euer knew But perhaps her outward grace Here discrib'd hath tane such place In some ore-enamourd breast And so much his hart possest As He thinkes it passeth telling How shee may be more excelling Or what worth I can prefer To be more admir'd in Her Therefore now I will be briefe To preuent that misbeliefe And if there be present here Any one whose nicer eare Taskes my Measures as offending In too seriously commending What affects the Sense or may Iniure Virtue any way Let them know t is vnderstood That if they were truly good It could neuer breed offence That I shewd the excellence With the power of God and Nature In the beauty of his Creature They from thence would rather raise Cause to meditate his praise And thus thinke How faire must He That hath made this Faire-one be That was my proposed End And to make them more attend Vnto this so much excelling As it passeth meanes of telling But at worst if any Straine Makes your Memories retaine Sparks of such a banefull fire As may kindle ill desire This that followes after shall Not alone extinguish all But eu'n make you blush with shame That your thoughts were so to blame Yet I know when I haue done In respect of that bright Sunne Whose inestimable light I would blazon to your sight These ensuing flashes are As to Cynthia's beames a Starre Or a petty Comets ray To the glorious Eye of Day For what power of words or Art Can her worth at full impart Or what is there may be found Plac'd within the Senses bound That can paint those sweets to me Which the Eyes of Loue doe see Or the Beauties of that Mind Which her body hath enshrin'd Can I thinke the Guide of Heauen Hath so bountifully giuen Outward features cause he meant To haue made lesse excellent Her diuine part Or suppose Beautie Goodnesse doth oppose Like those fooles who doe despaire To find any Good and Faire Rather There I seeke a mind Most excelling where I find God hath to the body lent Most-beseeming Ornament But though he that did inspire First the true Promethean fire In each seuerall soule did place Equall Excellence and Grace As some thinke yet haue not they Equall Beauties euery way For they more or lesse appeare As the outward Organs are Following much the temp'rature Of the Body grosse or pure And I doe beleeue it true That as we the Body view Nearer to perfection grow So the Soule her selfe doth show Others more and more excelling In her powre as in her dwelling For that purenesse giueth way Better to disclose each Ray To the Dull conceit of man Then a grosser substance can Thus through spotlesse Christall wee May the Dayes full glory see When if clearest Sunbeames passe Through a foule polluted glasse So discollerd the 'il appeare As those Staines they shone through were Let no Critticke cauill then If I dare affirme agen That her Minds perfections are Fairer then her Bodie 's farr And I need not proue it by Axioms of Philosophy Since no proofe can better be Then their rare effect in me For while other men complaining Tell their Mistresses disdaining Free from care I write a storie Only of her worth and glory While most Louers pining sit
Dragon for the fruite of gold And made blacke Cerberâ—â— the day behold These were his twelue stout Labours And they say With fifty Virgins in one night he lay If true it be t is thought he labourd more In that one act then in the twelue before Being 〈◊〉 by a Gentleman in his Dining-roome where was nothing but a Map of England to entertaine him he thus turned it into Verse FAire England in the bosome of the Seas Amid her two and fiftie Prouinces Sits like a glorious Empresse whose rich Throne Great Nymphes of honor come to wayt vpon First in the height of brauery appeares Kent East and South and Middle-Saxon Shires Next Surry Barkshire and Southampton get With Dorcet VVilton and rich Sommerset Then Deuon with the Cornish Promontory Gloster and VVorster faire Sabrinas glory Then Salope Suffolke Northfolke large and faire Oxford and Cambridge that thrice learned paire Then Lincolne Darby Yorkeshire Nottingham Northamption VVarwick Stafford Buckingham Chester and Lancaster with Heards well stord Huntingdon Hartford Rutland Hereford Then Princely Durham Bedford Leister and Northumber Cumber and cold VVestmerland Braue English shires with whom lou'd equally Welch Munmouth Radâ—or and Mountgomery Adde all the glory to her Tâ—aine they can So doth Glamorgan Brecknâ—â— Cardigan Caernaruan Denbigh 〈◊〉 Shire With Anglesey which ore the sea doth reare Herâ— lofty head And with the first though last Flint Pembrooke and Carmarthen might be plaâ—â— For all of these vnto their power maintaine Their Mistrisse England with a royall Traine Yea for Supporters at each hand hath she The VVight and Man that two braue Ilands be From these I to the Scottish Nymphes had iorny'd But that my Friend was backe againe returned Who hauing kindly brought me to his home Alone did leaue me in his Dining Rome Where I was faine and glad I had the hap To begg an entertainment of his Map An Epitaph vpon the Right Vertuous Lady the Lady SCOTT LEt none suppose this Relique of the Iust as here wrapt vp to perish in the dust No like best 〈◊〉 her time she fully stood Then being growne in Faith and ripe in Good With stedfast hope that shee another day Should rise with Christ with Deaâ—h here downe she lay And that each part which Her in life had grac't Preseru'd might be and meet againe at last The Poore the Worlâ— the Heauens and the Graue Her Almes her Praise her Soule her Body haue An Epitaph vpon a Woman and her Child buried together in the same Graue BEneath this Marble Stone doth lye â—he Subiect of Deaths Tyranny A Mother who in this close Tombe Sleepes with the issue of her wombe Though cruelly enclinde was he And with the fruit shooke downe the Tree Yet was his cruelty in vaine For Tree and Fruit shall spring againe A Christmas Carroll SO now is come our ioyfulst Feast Let euery man be iolly Each Roome with Yuie leaues is drest And euery Post with Holly Though some Churles at our mirth repine Round your forheads Garlands twine Drowne sorrow in a Cup of Wine And let vs all be merry Now all our Neighbours Chimneys smoke And Christmas blocks are burning The Ouens they with bakt meats choke And all their Spits are turning Without the doore let sorrow lie And if for cold it hap to die Wee le bury't in a Christmas Pye And euermore be merry Now euery Lad is wondrous trimm And no man minds his Labour Our Lasses haue prouided them A Bag-pipe and a Tabor Young men and Mayds and Girles Boyes Ciue life to one anoâ— hers Ioyes And you anon shall by their noyse Perceiue that they are merry Ranke Misers now doe sparing shun Their Hall of Musicke soundeth And Dogs thence with whole shoulders run So all things there aboundeth The Countrey-folke themselues aduance For Crowdy-Mutton's come out of France And Iack shall pipe and Iyll shall daunce And all the Towne be merry Ned Swash hath fetcht his Bands from pawne And all his best Apparell Brisk Nell hath bought a Ruffe of Lawne With droppings of the Barrell And those that hardly all the yeare Had Bread to eat or Raggs to weare Will haue both Clothes and daintie fare And all the day be merry Now poore men to the Iustices With Capons make their arrants And if they hap to faile of these They plague them with their Warrants But now they feed them with good cheere And what they want they take in Beere For Christmas comes but once a yeare And then they shall be merry Good Farmours in the Countrey nurse The poore that else were vndone Some Land-lords spend their money worse On Lust and Pride at London There the Roysters they doe play Drabb and Dice their Landt away Which may be ours another day And therefore le ts be merry The Clyent now his suit forbeares The Prisoners heart is eased The Debtor drinks away his cares And for the time is pleased Though others Purses be more fat Why should we pine or grieue at that Hang sorrow care will kill a Cat. And therefore le ts be merry Harke how the Wagges abrode doe call Each other foorth to rambling Anon you le see them in the Hall For Nutts and Apples scambling Harke how the Roofes with laughters sound Annon they 'l thinke the house goes round For they the Sellars depth haue found And there they will be merry The VVenches with their Wassell-Bowles About the Streets are singing The Boyes are come to catch the Owles The Wild-mare in is bringing Our Kitchin-Boy hath broke his Boxe And to the dealing of the Oxe Our honest neighbours come by flocks And here they will be merry Now Kings and Queenes poore Sheep-cotes haue And mate with euery body The honest now may play the knaue And wise men play at Noddy Some Youths will now a Mumming goe Some others play at Rowland-hoe And twenty other Gameboyes moe Because they will be merry Then wherefore in these merry daies Should we I pray be duller No let vs sing some Roundelayes To make our mirth the fuller And whâ—lest thus inspir'd we sing Let all the Streets with ecchoes ring Woods and Hills and euery thing Beare witnesse we are merry An Epitaph vpon the Porter of a PRISON HEre lye the bones of him that was of late A Churlish Porter of a Prison gate Death many an euening at his lodging knockt But could not take him for the dore was lockt Yet at a Tauerne late one night he found him And getting him into the seller drownd him On which the world that stil the worst is thinking Reports abroad that he was kild with drinking Yet let no Prisoner whether Thiefe or Debtor Reioyce as if his fortune were the better Their sorrows likely to be nere the shorter The Warden liues though death hath took the Porter A Sennet vpon a stolne Kisse NOw gentle sleepe hath closed vp those eyes Which waking kept my boldest thoughts in awe And fâ—eeaccesse vnto that sweet lip lies From whence I