desire At the same time for to expire Which being done he long shall dwell Within the place he loved so well Where night and morning hundreds come A Pilgrimage unto his tomb To the Bell-Founder of great Tom of Christ-Church in Oxford THou that by ruine doest repaire And by destruction art a Founder Whose art doth tell us what men are Who by corruption shall rise sounder In this fierce fires intensive heat Remember this is Tom the great And Cyclops think at every stroak With which thy sledge his side shall wound That then some Statute thou hast broak Which long depended on his sound And that our Colledge-Gates doe cry They were not shut since Tom did die Think what a scourge 't is to the City To drink and swear by Carfax Bell Which bellowing without tune or pitty The night and day devides not well But the poor tradesmen must give ore His ale at eight or sit till four We all in hast drink off our wine As if we never should drink more So that the reckoning after nine Is larger now then that before Release this tongue which erst could say Home Scollers drawer what 's to pay So thou of order shalt be Founder Making a Ruler for the people One that shalt ring thy praises rounder Then t'other six bells in the steeple Wherefore think when Tom is running Our manners wait upon thy cunning Then let him raised be from ground The same in number weight and sound For may thy conscience rule thy gaine Or would thy theft might be thy baine On a Gentleman that kissing his Mistresse left blood upon her WHat mystery is this that I should find My blood in kissing you to stay behind T was not for want of colour that required My blood for paint no die could be desired On that faire cheeck where scarlet were a spot And where the juice of Lillies but a blot If at the presence of the murtherer The wound will bleed and tell the cause is there A touch will doe much more even so my heart When secretly it felt your killing dart Shewed it in blood which yet doth more complain Because it cannot be so toucht again This wounded heart to shew its love most true Sent forth a drop and wrote its mind on you Was ever paper halfe so white as this Or wax so yielding to the printed kisse Or seal so strong no letter ere was writ That could the Authors mind so truly fit For though my selfe to forraine countries fly My blood desires to keep you company Here I could spill it all thus I can free My enemy from blood though slaine I be But slaine I cannot be nor meet with ill Since but to you I have no blood to spill On an aged Gentlewoman NO spring nor summers beauty hath such grace As I have seen in one autumnall face Young beauties force their loves and that 's a rape Your's doth but counsell yet they cannot scape If 't were a shame to love here t were no shame Affection takes here reverences name Were her first years the golden age that 's true But now she 's gold oft tried and ever new That was her torrid and inflaming time This is her tolerable tropick clime Faire eyes who askes more heat then comes from thence He in a feaver wishes pestilence Call not those wrinkles graves if graves they were They were loves graves for els they are no where Yet lies not love dead here but here doth sit Vowed to this trench like to an Anchoret And here till her which must be his death's He doth not dig a grave but build a tomb Here dwells he though he sojourne every where doom In progresse yet his standing house is here She allwayes evening is nor noon nor night Where 's no voluptuousnsse though a delight Xerxes strange love the broad-leav'd plantane tree Was loved for age none being so large as she Or else because being young nature did blesse Her youth with ages glory barrennesse If we love things long sought age is a thing Which we are sixty years a compassing If transitory things which soon decay Age must be loveliest at the latest day But name not winter-faces whose skin 's slack Lank like an unthrifts purse or empty sack Whose eyes seek light within for all here 's shade Whose mouth 's a hole rather worn out then made Whose severall tooth to a severall place is gone To vex their soules at the Resurrection Name not these living deaths-heads unto me For such not antient but antiques be I hate extreams yet I had rather stay With tombs then cradles to wear out the day Since that loves naturall motion is may still My love descend and journey down the hill Not panting after growing beauties so I shall ebb on with them that homewards go On his Mistresse going to Sea FArewell fair Saint may not the Seas and wind Swel like the heart and eyes you leave behind But calme and gentle like the looks they bear Smile on your face and whisper in your eare Let no foule billow offer to arise That it may nearer look upon your eyes Least wind and waves enamourd with such form Should throng and croud themselves into a storm But if it be your fate vast Seas to love Of my becalmed heart learn how to move Move then but in a gentle lovers pace No wrinkles nor no furrowes in your face And ye fierce winds see that you tell your tale In such a breath as may but fill her saile So whilst you court her each his severall way You will her safely to her port convay And loose her in a noble way of woing Whilst both contribute to your own undoing A Copy of Verses spoke to King CHARLES by way of entertainment when he was pleas'd to grace S. John's Colledge with his visit 1636. WEre they not Angells sang did not mine eares Drink in a sacred Anthem from you sphears Was I not blest with Charles and Maries name Names wherein dwells all Musick t is the same Hark I my self now but speak Charles and Mary And 't is a Poem nay 't is a library All haile to your dread Majesties whose power Adds lustre to our feast and to our bower And what place fitter for so Royall guests Then this where every book presents a feast Here 's Virgils well-drest Venison here 's the wine Made Horace sing so sweetly here you dine With the rich Cleopatra's warelike love Nay you may feast and frolick here with Jove Next view that bower which is as yet all green But when you 'r there the red and white are seen A bower which had t is true been beautified With catechising Arras on each side But we the Baptists sons did much desire To have it like the dwelling of our sire A grove or desart See dread Leige you le guesse Even our whole Colledge in a wildernesse Your eyes and eares being fed tast of that feast Which hath its pomp and glory from its guest Vpon the new
death but a not taking leave T is true the shortnesse doth forbid to weep For so our Fathers dying fell asleep So Enoch whilst his God he did adore Instead of suffering death was seen no more But oh this is too much and we should wrong Thy ashes thought we not this speed to long Methinks a dream had serv'd or silent breath Or a still pulse or something like to death Now t were detraction to suppose a tear Or the sad weeds which the glad mourners wear Could value such a losse He that mourns thee Must bring an eye can weep an Elegy A look that would save blacks whose heavy grace Chides mirth and wears a funerall in the face Whose sighs are with such feeling sorrow blown That all the aire he draws returns a groan That griefe doth nearest fit that is begun When the year ends and when the blacks are done Thou needst no guilded Tomb superfluous cost Is best bestowed on them whose names are lost Hadst thou no Statue thy great memory Were Marble to it selfe the bravery Of Jet or rich Enammel were mispent Where the brave Course is its own ornament In thee shine all high parts which falsly wit Or flattering raptures for their Lord beget When they would faigne an Epitaph and write As if their griefe made legs when they indite Such dutifull untruths that ere he grieve The Readers first toile is how to believe Thy greatnesse was no Idoll state in thee Receiv'd its lustre from humility He that will blaze thy Coat and onely looks How thou wer 't Noble by the Heraulds books Mistakes thy linage and admiring blood Forgets thy best descent vertue and good These are too great for Scutcheons and made thee Without fore-fathers thine own Pedigree Vpon his chast Mistresse LOve give me leave to serve thee and be wise To keep thy torch in and restore blind eyes I le such a flame into my bosome take As Martyrs court when they embrace the stake No dull and smoaky fire but heat divine That burns not to consume but to refine I have a Mistresse for perfections rare In every eye but in my thoughts most faire Like tapers on the Altar shine her eyes Her breath is the perfume of sacrifice And wheresoever my fancy would begin Still her perfection lets Religion in I touch her as my beads without devout care And come unto my courtship as my prayer We sit and talk and kisse away the houres As chastly as the mornings dew kisse flowers We were no flesh but one another greet As blessed soules in seperation meet I might have lustfull thoughts to her of all Earths heavenly quire the most Angelicall But looking in my brest her forme I find That like my Guardian Angell keeps my mind From rude attempts and when affections stir I calme all passions with one thought of her Thus they whose reason loves and not their sence The spirit love Thus on intelligence Reflects upon his like and by chast loves In the same sphear this and that Angel moves Nor is this barren love each noble thought Begets another and that still is brought To bed of more vertues and grace encrease And such a numerous issue nere can cease Where children though great blessings onely be Pleasures repriev'd to some postery Beasts love like men if men in lust delight And call that love which is but appetite When Essence meets with Essence and souls joyn In mutuall knots that 's the true nuptiall twine Such Lady is my love and such is true All other love is to your sex not you On a Painters handsome Daughter SUch are your Fathers Pictures that we doe Believe they are not counterfeit but true So lively and so fresh that we may swear Instead of draughts he hath placed creatures there People not shadowes which in time will be Not a dead number but a colony Nay more yet some think they have skill and arts That they are well bred pictures of good parts And you your selfe faire Julia doe disclose Such beauties that you may seem one of those That having motion gaind at least and sence Began to know it selfe and stole from thence Whilst thus his aemulous art with nature strives Some think h' hath none others he hath two wives If you love none faire maide but look on all You then among his set of Pictures fall If that you look on all and love all men The Pictures too will be your Sisters then Your choise must shew you are of another fleece And tell you are his daughter not his piece All other proofes are vaine go not about We two will embrace and love and clear the doubt When you have brought forth your like the world will know You are his Child what Picture can doe so To Dr. Price writing Anniversaries on Prince HENRY Even so dead Hector thrice was triumphd on The walls of Troy thrice slaine when fate had don So did the barbarous Greeks before their hoast Turmoile his ashes and prophane his Ghost As Henryes vault his pure and sacred hearse Is torne and batter'd by thy Anniverse Wast not enough nature and strength were foes Unlesse thou yearly murther him in prose Or didst rhou hope thy ravening verse could make A louder eccho then the Almanack Trust me November doth more gastly look In Dades and Hopsons penniworth then thy book And sadder record their sixt figure bears Then thy false Printed and ambitious tears And wer 't not for Chrismas which is nigh When fruits when eaten and digested Pye Call for more paper no man could make shift How to employ thy writing to his thrift Wherefore forbear for pitty or for shame And let some richer pen redeem his name From rottennesse then leave him captive since So vile a price nere ransom'd such a Prince A Reply upon an Answer to the former Copy NOr is it grieved grave you the memory Of such a story such a book as he That such a Copy might through the world be read Yet Henry lives though he be buried It could be wishd that every day would bear Him one good witnesse that he still were here That sorrow rul'd the year and by this Sun Each man could tell thee how the day had run O 't were an honest cause for him could say I have bin busie and wept out the day Remembring him His name would ever last Were such a trophy such a banner plac'd Upon his grave as this Here a man lies Was kild by Henryes dart not destinies But for a Cobler to throw up his cap And cry the Prince the Prince O dire mishap Or a Geneva bridegroom after Grace To throw his spouse i th' fire or scratch her face To the tune of the lamentation and delay His friday capon to the Sabbath day Or an old Popish Lady halfe vowed dead To fast away the day in gingerbread For him to write such Annals all these things Doe open laughter and shut up griefes springs Wherefore Vertumnus if you le Print the
next Bring better notes or chuse a fitter text On a Lady that dyed of the small pox O Thou deformed unwomanlike desease That plowest up flesh and blood and sowest there pease And leav'st such prints on beauty if thou come As clouted shoon doe in a floare of loame Thou that of faces honicombs dost make And of two breasts two cullinders forsake Thy deadly trade thou now art rich give ore And let our curses call thee forth no more Or if thou needs wilt magnifie thy power Goe where thou art invoked every hour Amongst the gamesters where they name thee thick At the last man or the last pocky nick Thou who hast such superfluous store of gaine Why strikst thou one whose ruine is thy shame O thou hast murdred where thou shouldst have kist And where thy shaft was needful there thou mist Thou shouldst have chosen out some homely face Where thy ill-favourd kindness might add grace That men might say how beautious once was she And what a curious piece was mard by thee Thou shouldst have wrought on some such Lady-mould That never loved her Lord nor ever could Untill she were deformed thy tyranny Were then within the rules of charity But upon one whose beauty was above All sorts of art whose love was more then love On her to fix thy ugly counterfeit Was to erect a Piramid of jet And put out fire to dig a turfe from Hell And place it where a gentle soule should dwell A soule which in the body would not stay When t was no more a body nor pure clay But a huge ulcer o thou heavenly race Thou soule that shunst the infection of thy case Thy house thy prison pure soule spotless faire Rest where no heat no cold no compounds are Rest in that country and enjoy that ease Which thy fraile flesh denied and thy disease Vpon the Kings Returne to the City of London when he came last thether from Scotland and was entertained there by the Lord Mayor SIng and be merry King Charles is come back Le ts drink round his health with Claret Sack The Scots are all quiet each man with his pack May cry now securely come see what you lack Sing and be merry boyes sing and be merry London's a fine Town so is London-Derry Great preparation in London is made To bid the King welcome each man gives his aide With thanksgiving cloths themselves they arrayd I should have said holy-day but I was afraid Sing c. They stood in a row for a congratulation Like a company of wild-geese in the old fashion Railes in the Church are abomination But Railes in the street are no innovation Sing c. My Lord Mayor himselfe on cock-horse did ride Not like a young Gallant with a sword by his side T was carried before him but there was espied The crosse-bar in the hilt by a Puritan eyed Sing c. Two dozen of Aldermen ride two by two Their Gowns were all scarlet but their noses were blew The Recorder made a speech if report it be true He promis'd more for them then ere they will do Sing c. They should be good subjects to the King and the State The Church they would love no Prelates would hate But methinks it was an ominous fate They brought not the King thorow Bishops-gate Sing c. The Citizens rod in their Golden Chaines Fetch'd from St. Martyns no region of Spaines It seems they were trobl'd with Gundamors pains Some held by their pummels and some by their manes Sing c. In Jackets of Velvet without Gown or Cloak Their faces were wainscot their harts were of oke No Trainbands were seen no drums beat a stroke Because City Captains of late have been broke Sing c. The King Queen and Prince the Palsgrave of Rhine With two branches more of the royal vine Rod to the Guild-Hall where they were to dine There could be no lack where the Conduits run wine Sing c. Nine hundred dishes in the bill of fare For the King and Nobles prepared there were There could be no lesse a man might well swear By the widgeons and woodcocks and geese that were there Sing c. Though the dinner were long yet the grace was but short It was said in the fashion of the English Court But one passage more I have to report Small thanks for my paines I look to have for t Sing c. Down went my Lord Mayor as low as his knee Then up went the white of an Aldermans eye We thought the Bishops grace enlarged should be Not the Arch-Bishops no such meanign had he Sing c. When 's Lordship kneeld down we lookd he should pray So he did heartily but in his own way The cup was his book the collect for the day Was a health to King Charles all out he did say Sing c. The forme of prayer my Lord did begin The rest of the Aldermen quickly were in One Warner they had of the greatnesse of the sin Without dispensation from Burton or Prin. Sing c. Before they had done it grew towards night I forget my Lord Mayor was made a Knight The Recorder too with another wight Whom I cannot relate for the torches are light Sing c. Up and away by St. Pauls they passe When a prickear'd brayd like a Puritan ass Some thought he had been scar'd with the painted glasse He swore not but cry'd high Popery by th' masse Sing c. The Quire with Musick on a Scaffold they see In Surplices all their Tapers burnt by An Anthem they sung most melodiously If this were Popery I confesse it was high Sing c. From thence to White Hall there was made no stay Where the King gave them thanks for their love that day Nothing was wanting if I could but say The House of Commons had met him half way Sing c. Vpon the Kings-Book bound up in a Cover coloured with His Blood LEt abler pens commend these leaves whose fame Spreads through all languages through time whose name Nor can those Tongues add glory to this book So great as they from the translation took Shine then rare piece in thine own Charls his ray Yet suffer me thy covering to display And tell the world that this plain sanguine vail A beauty far more glorious doth conceal Then masks of Ladies and although thou be A Book where every leafe's a Library Fil'd with choise Gems of th' Arts Law Gospel The chiefest Jewel is the Cabinet A shrine much holier then the Saint you may yet To this as harmelesse adoration pay As those that kneel to Martyrs tombs for know This sacred blood doth Rome a Relique show Richer then all her shrines and then all those More hallowed far far more miraculous Thus cloth'd go forth bless'd Book and yield to none But to the Gospel and Christs blood alone Thy Garments now like his so just the same As he from Bozra and the wine-presse came Both purpled with like
your wounds are balm That which the world miscalls a jaile A private closet is to me Whilst a good conscience is my baile And innocence my liberty Locks bars walls lonenesse tho together met Make me no prisoner but an Anchoret I whilst I wisht to be retir'd Into this private room was turn'd As if their wisdomes had conspir'd A Salamander should be burn'd And like those Sophies who would drown a fish I am condemn'd to suffer what I wish The Cynick hug his poverty The Pelicane her wildernesse And 't is the Indians pride to lye Naked on frozen Caucasus And like to these Stoicks severe we see Make torments easie by their apathy These manicles upon my arme I as my sweethearts favours wear And then to keep my ancles warm I have some Iron shackles there These walls are but my garrison this Cell Which men call Jaile doth prove my Citadell So he that strook at Jasons life Thinking h' had made his purpose sure By a malicious friendly knife Did onely wound him to a cure Malice I see wants wit for what is meant Mischiefe oft times proves favour by th' event I 'me in this Cabinet lockt up Like some high prized Margarite Or like some great Mogul or Pope Am cloyster'd up from publique sight Retir'dnesse is a part of majesty And thus proud Sultan I 'me as great as thee Here sin for want of food doth starve Where tempting objects are not seen And these walls doe onely serve To keep vice out not keep me in Malice of late 's grown charitable sure I 'me not committed but am kept secure When once my Prince affliction hath Prosperity doth treason seem And then to smooth so rough a path I can learn patience too from him Now not to suffer shews no loyall heart When Kings want â—ase subjects must love to smart What tho I cannot see my King Either in 's person or his coyne Yet contemplation is a thing Which renders what I have not mine My King from me no Adamant can part Whom I doe wear ingraven in my heart My soul 's free as th' ambient aire Altho my baser part 's immur'd Whilst loyall thoughts doe still repaire T' accompany my solitude And though rebellion doe my body bind My King can onely captivate my mind Have you not seen the Nightingale When turn'd a Pilgrim to a cage How she doth sing her wonted tale In that her narrow hermitage Even there her chanting melody doth prove That all her bars are trees her cage a grove I am that bird which they combine Thus to deprive of liberty Who though they doe my corps confine Yet maugre hate my soule is free And tho immur'd yet can I chirp and sing Disgrace to rebells glory to my King To his imperious Mistresse WEll well 't is true I am now fal'n in love And t is with you And now I plainly see While you 'r enthron'd by me above You all your art and power improve To tyranize ore me And make my flames the objects of your scorn While you rejoyce and feast your eyes to see me quite forlorn But yet be wise And don't believe that I Doe think your eyes More bright than Stars can be Or that you Angels far out-vy In their Coelestiall livery T was all but Poetry I could have said as much by any she You are no beauty of your selfe but are made so by me Though we like fools Fathome the Earth and sky And drain the Schools For names t' expresse you by Out-rend all loud hyperbolyes To dub our fancies Deityes By Cupids heraldry We know you 'r flesh and blood as well as men And when we please can mortalize and make you so agen Yet since my fate Hath drawn me to the thing Which I did hate I le not my labour loose But will love and as I begin To the purpose now my hand is in Spight of the art you use And have you know the world is not so bare Ther 's things enough to love besides such toyes as Ladies are I 'le love good wine I 'le love my book and muse Nay all the nine I 'le love my reall friend I 'le love my horse and could I chuse One that my love would not abuse To her my love should bend I will love those that laugh and those that sing I le never pine my selfe away for any female thing On Dr. Ravis Bishop of London WHen I pass'd Pauls and traveld on the walk Where all our Brittain sinners swear and talk Old Harry Ruffians Bankrupts and South-sayers And youths whose cousenage is as old as theirs And there beheld the body of my Lord Trod under foot of vice which he abhord It griev'd me that the Landlord of all times Should set long lives and leases to their crimes And to his springing honours should afford Scarce so much Sun as to the prophets gourd But since swift flights of vertue have good ends Like breath of Angells which a blessing sends And vanisheth withall whilst fouler deeds Expect a tedious harvest for bad seeds I blame not fame and nature if they gave Where they could give no more their last a grave And justly doe thy grieved friends forbear Marble and Alabaster boyes to rear Ore thy Religious dust because they know Thy worth which such allusions cannot shew For thou hast trod amongst those happy ones Who trust not in their superscriptions Their hired Epitaphs and perjur'd stone Which so belies the soule when she is gone Thou doest commit thy body as it lies To tongues of living men not unborn eyes What profits then a sheet of lead what good If on thy coarse a Marble quarry stood Let those that fear their rising purchase vaults And rear them statues to excuse their faults As if like birds that peck at Painters grapes The judg knew not their persons from their shapes Nor needs the Chancelor boast whose Pyramis Above the House and Altar reared is For though thy body fill a viler room Thou shalt not change deeds with him for his tomb On Dr. Langton BEcause of fleshy mould we be Subject unto mortality Let no man wonder at his death More flesh he had and then lesse breath But if you question how he dyed T was not the fall of swelling pride T was no ambition to ascend Heaven in humility his end Assured us his God did make This piece for our example sake Had you but seen him in his way To Church his last best Sabbath day His strugling soule did make such hast As if each breath should be his last Each stone he trod on sinking strove To make his grave and shewed his love O how his sweating body wept Knowing how soon it should be swept i th' mould but while he steals to pray His weighty members long to stay Each word did bring a breathlesse tear As if he 'd leave his spirit there He gone looks back as t were to see The place where he would buried be Bowing as if did