Selected quad for the lemma: love_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A32874
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Choyce poems being songs, sonnets, satyrs and elegies / by the wits of both universities.
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1661
(1661)
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Wing C3918; ESTC R29960
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5,819
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17
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CHOYCE POEMS BEING SONGS SONNETS SATYRS and ELEGIES By the Wits of both UNIVERSITIES LONDON Printed for Henry Brome at the Gun in Ivy-lane 1661. SONG THree strange humours make me laugh The Married man that 's froward The Miser thinks hee 's never safe And the Temperate man's untoward No friendship these nor honour have Strict Dyet Wealth and Wives enslave And make poor man a Coward Sancta Cruce may thank the Grape And not their solemn Masses 'T was Wine that made their General scape Though he lost his Gally-asses Blake for grief expir'd his last That having fought he could not tast Canary in full Glasses On the Russians cast your Eye Cossack's Poles and Tartars How like Sheep they live and dye In their water Winter Quarters Whereas the Swede that takes a Drench Of Brande-wine in Field or Trench Expires as bold as Martyrs Chocolet's an arrant Cheat Cantharides and Eringo Nothing gives dull spirits heat Like a dose of Wine or Stingo Strong Cheshire Ale Which if Venables had sipt He like Lightning would have skipp'd And ransack'd St. Domingo Ask Jack Moston and Will. Hooks How their Comrade turn'd Hectar They 'l affirm his blood and looks Both took fire from boules of Nector That in time inflam'd the Realm 'T was drinking plac'd him at the Helm And made him Lord Protector A Ballad against the Opera NOw Heaven preserve our Realm And him that sits at th' Helm I will tell you of a new Story Of Sir William and his Apes With full many merry Japes Much after the rate of John Dorie This sight is to be seen Near the Street that 's called Queen And the People have call'd it the Opera But the Devil take my Wife If all dayes of my life did ever see such a Fopperie Where first one begins With a trip and a cring And a face set in starch to accost 'um I and with a Speech to boot That had neither head nor foot Might have serv'd for a Charterhouse Rostrum Oh he look'd so like a Jew Would have made a man spew When he told 'em here was this here was that Just like him that shews the Tombs For when the Sum Total comes T is two houres of I know not what Neither must I here forget The Musick there how it was set Dise two Ayers and an half and a Jove All the rest was such a Gig Like the squeaking of a Pig Or Cats when they 'r making their love The next thing was the Scene And that as it was layne But no man knows where in Peru With a story for the nones Of Raw head and Bloody bones But the Devil a word that was true There might you have seen an Ape With his follow for to gape Now dancing and turning ore and ore What cannot Poets do They can find out in Peru Things no man ever saw before Then presently the Spaniard Strouts with his Whineyard Now Heaven of thy mercy how grim Who'â—d have thought that Christian men Would have eat up Children Had he not seen 'em do it limb by limb Oh greater cruelty yet Like a Pig upon a spit Here lies one there another boyl'd to a Jellie Just so the people stare At an Oxe in the Fair Rosted whole with a Pudding in 's Bellie I durst have laid my head That the King there had been dead When I saw how they basted and carved him Had he not come up again Upon the Stage there to complain How scurvily the Rogues had served him A little further in Hung a third by the Chin And a forth cut out all in Quarters Oh that Fox had now been living They had been sure of Heaven Or at the least been some of his Martyrs But which was strange again The Indians that they had slain Came dancing all in a Troop But oh give me the last For as often as he past He still tumbled like a Dog in a Hoop And now my Signior Strugge In good faith you may go Jogge For Sir Will. will have something to brag on Oh the English Boyes are come With their Fife and their Drum And still the Knight must Conquer the Dragon And so now my story is done And I 'le end as I begun With a word and I care not who know it Heaven keep us great and small And blesse us some and all From every such a pittifull Poet. The dying Lover SOme powers regard me or my heart will burn Till it convert my besome to an urn I call not you Physicians how you spred You fatall Curtains of a sick mans bed Hang from about me herbs nor minerals can Cure the Consumption of a Love-sick man Not hills of Snow nor Cakes of Ice the flood Bears down can make a Julip for my blood You climbing Waves if happily at this hour There be some new Leander in your power O let his voyage calmer fortune try 'T were pitty the belov'd again should dye But you may well my scorn'd breast over flow Yet would my heat make your cold billows glow And you rude winds troublers of both Seas and Skies Before whose wrath the white fingd vessel flyes Cease persecuting wretches on the main And cool me with a storm but 't were in vain I sprinkle tears and with my sighs adde breath To blow flames only to be quench't by death See where he comes how pale how far unlike Her shape that sent him to me would'st thou strike 'T is done already look upon my heart Alas thou know'st not when thou threw'st that dart Shee mocks both thee and love not as you will As she doth guide your hands you save or kill Perhaps you reigned in times past but in mine Her smiles are loves darts her thoughts are thine I have seen her mix a sad look with a sweet Then life and death all joys all torments meet Like twilight that her lover could not say Whether his fear brought light or hope saw day Which I must see no more 't is her decree That adds one Sister to the other three Another to the grates if you enquire What wonder this may be please your desire It is a beauty such as might give breath To senslesse Pictures but to me 't is death Farewel sweet Muses your freinds death deplore Whom you were not Maedeas to restore Love let me kisse thy hand by which I fall Yet thou hast kill'd me with a Cordial Death cry thee mercy Loves command extends So far I saw not thine but wee 'l meet friends I feel thee in my marrow thy shaft lurks With a cold poyson tipt now now it works What Ague 's this but now my breath did glow Etna was not so fyery now I grow More cold than are the Alps I am like one Tost from the torrid to the frigid Zone Winter 's in my blood my veins freeze ore It Snows upon my heart I can no more Move my contracted sinews if there be Of all that in their tears would bury me Some poor forsaken Virgin