Sh 'as no more wit to ask than to deny On my pretty Marten COme my pretty little Muse Your assistence I must use And you must assist me too Better than you use to doe Or the Subject we disgrace Has oblig'd us many ways Pretty Matty is our Theme Of all others the supreme Should we studie for 't a year Could we chuse a prettier Little Mat whose pretty play Does divert us ev'ry day Whose Caresses are so kind Sweet and free and undesign'd Meekness is not more disarming Youth and modesty more charming Nor from any ill intent Nuns or Doves more innocent And for Beauty Nature too Here would shew what she could doe Finer Creature ne'er was seen Half so pretty half so clean Eyes as round and black as Sloe Teeth as white as morning Snow Breath as sweet as blowing Roses When the Morn their leaves discloses Or what sweeter you 'll allow Breath of Vestals when they vow Or that yet doth sweeter prove Sighs of Maids who die for Love. Next his Feet my praise commands Which methinks we should call hands For so finely they are shap'd And for any use so apt Nothing can so dext'rous be Nor fine handed near as he These without though black as Jet Within are soft and supple yet As Virgins Palm where Man's deceit Seal of promise never set Back and Belly soft as Dawn Sleeps which peace of Conscience crown Or the whispers Love reveal Or the kisses Lovers steal And of such a rich perfume As to say I dare presume Will out-ravish and out-wear That of th' fulsome Milliner Tail so bushy and so long Which t'omit would doe him wrong As the proudest she of all Proudly would be fann'd withall Having given thus the shape Of this pretty little Ape To his Vertues next I come Which amount to such a summe As not only well may pass Both my Poetry and Dress To set forth as I should do 't But Arithmetick to boot Valour is the ground of all That we Mortals Vertues call And the little Cavalier That I do present you here Has of that so great a share He might lead the World to war. What the Beasts of greater size Tremble at he does despise And is so compos'd of heart Drums nor Guns can make him start Noises which make others quake Serve his Courage to awake Libyan Lyons make their Feasts Of subdu'd Plebean Beasts And Hyrâ—anian Tigers prey Still on Creatures less than they Or less arm'd the Russian Bears Of tamer Beasts make massacres Irish Wolves devour the Dams English Foxes prey on Lambs These are all effects of course Not of Valour but of Force But my Matty does not want Heart t'attack an Elephant Yet his Nature is so sweet Mice may nibble at his feet And may pass as if unseen If they spare his Megazine Constancy a Vertue then In this Age scarce known to men Or to Womankind at least In this pretty little Beast To the World mght be restor'd And my Matty be ador'd Chaste he is as Turtle Doves That abhor adult ' rate Loves True to Friendship and to Love Nothing can his Vertue move But his Faith in either giv'n Seems as if 't were seal'd in Heaven Of all Brutes to him alone Justice is and Favour known Now is Matty's excellence Mearly circumscrib'd by sense He for judgment what to doe Knows both good and evil too But is with such vertue bless'd That he chuses still the best And wants nothing of a Wit But a Tongue to utter it Yet with that we may dispense For his Signs are Eloquence Then for Fashion and for Meine Matty's fit to court a Queen All his motions gracefull are And all Courts outshine as far As our Courtiers peakish Clowns Or those peaknils Northern Loons Which should Ladies see they sure Other Beasts would ne'er endure Then no more they would make suit For an ugly pissing-coat Rammish Cat nor make a pet Of a bawdy Mamoset Nay the Squerrel though it is Pretty'st Creature next to this Would henceforward be discarded And in Woods live unregarded Here sweet Beauty is a Creature Purposely ordain'd by Nature Both for cleanness and for shape Worthy a Fair Ladies lap Nor her Bosom would disgrace Nor a more beloved place Live long my pretty little Boy Thy Master's Darling Ladies Joy And when Fate will no more forbear To lay his hands on him and her E'en then let Fate my Matty spare And when thou dy'st then turn a Star The New-year To Mr. W. T. HArk the Cock crows and you bright Star Tells us the day himself 's not far And see where breaking from the night He guilds the Western hills with light With him old Ianus does appear Peeping into the future Year With such a look as seems to say The prospect is not good that way Thus do we rise ill sights to see And 'gainst our selves to Prophesie When the Prophetick fear of things A more tormenting mischief brings More full of Soul-tormenting Gall Than direst mischiefs can beâ—all But stay but stay methinks my sight Better inform'd by clearer light Discerns sereneness in that brow That all contracted seem'd but now His reverse face may shew distast And frown upon the ills are past But that which this way looks is clear And smiles upon the New-born year He looks too from a place so high The year lies open to his eye And all the moments open are To the exact discoverer Yet more and more he smiles upon The happy revolution Why should we then suspect or fear The Influences of a year So smiles upon us the first morn And speaks us good so soon as born Pox on 't the last was ill enough This cannot but make better proof Or at the worst as we brush'd through The last why so we may this too And then the next in reason shou'd Be superexcellently good For the worst ills we daily see Have no more perpetuity Than the best Fortunes that do fall Which also bring us wherewithall Longer their being to support Than those do of the other sort And who has one good year in three And yet repines at Destiny Appears ingrateful in the case And merits not the good he has Then let us welcome the new guest With lusty Brimmers of the best Mirth always should good Fortune meet And renders e'en disaster sweet And though the Princess turn her back Let us but line our selves with Sack We better shall by far hold out Till the next year she face about The Ioys of Marriage HOw uneasie is his Life Who is troubled with a Wife Be she ne'er so fair or comely Be she ne'er so foul or homely Be she ne'er so young and toward Be she ne'er so old and froward Be she kind with armes enfolding Be she cross and always scolding Be she blith or melancholy Have she Wit or have she Folly Be she wary be she squandring Be she staid or be she wandring Be she constant be she fickle Be she fire or be
the Noon unto my Morning Love. IV. Love by swift time which sickly passions dread Is no more measur'd than 't is limited That passion where all others cease And with the fuel lose the flame Is evermore in its encrease And yet being love is still the same They err call liking Love true Lovers know He never lov'd who does not always so V. You who my last love have my first love had To whom my all of love was and is paid Are onely worthy to receive The richest New-years-gift I have My love which I this morning give A nobler never Monarch gave Which each New-year I will present a-new And you 'll take care I hope it shall be due Epigramme de Monsieur des-Portes SOme four years ago I made Phillis an offer Provided she would be my Wh re Of two thousand good Crowns to put in her Coffer And I think should have given her more About two years after a Message she sent me She was for a thousand my own But unless for an hundred she now would content me I sent her word I would have none She fell to my price six or seven weeks after And then for a hundred would doe I then told her in vain she talk'd of the matter Than twenty no farther I 'd goe T'other day for six Ducatoons she was willing Which I thought a great deal too dear And told her unless it would come for two shilling She must seek a Chapman elsewhere This Morning she 's come and would fain buckle gratis But she 's grown so fulsome a Wh re That now methinks nothing a far dearer rate is Than all that I offer'd before Epigramme de Monsieur Cotin I Perish of too much desire If she inexorable prove And shall with too much Joy expire If she be gratious to my love Thus nought can cure my wounded Breast But I most certain am to die Or by the ill by which possess'd Or by the happy remedy Epigramme de Monsieur Maynard OLD Fop why should you take such pains To paint and Perriwig it so My nobler love alas disdains To stoop so infamously low Time that does mow the fairest Flow'rs Has made so very bold with yours You should expect to be deni'd The Footmen can no more endure ye And if no sport in Hell assure ye You 'll never more be occupi'd A Voyage to Ireland in Burlesque THE Lives of frail men are compar'd by the Sages Or unto short Journies or Pilgrimages As men to their Inns do come sooner or later That is to their Ends to be plain in my matter From whence when one dead is it currantly follows He has run his Race though his Goal be the Gallows And this 't is I fancy sets Folk so a madding And makes Men and Women so eager of gadding Truth is in my youth I was one of those People Would have gone a great way to have seen an high Steeple And though I was bred 'mongst the Wonders o' th' Peak Would have thrown away Money and ventur'd my neck To have seen a great Hill a Rock or a Cave And thought there was nothing so pleasant and brave But at Forty years old you may if you please Think me wiser than run such errands as these Or had the same humour still ran in my Toes A Voyage to Ireland I ne'er should have chose But to tell you the truth on 't indeed it was neither Improvement nor pleasure for which I went thither I know then you 'll presently ask me for what Why faith It was that makes the Old Woman trot And therefore I think I 'm not much to be blam'd If I went to the place whereof Nick was asham'd Oh Couriate thou Traveller fam'd as Vlysses In such a stupendious labour as this is Come lend me the Aids of thy hands and thy feet Though the first be pedantick the other not sweet Yet both are so restless in Peregrination They 'll help both my Journey and eke my Relation 'T was now the most beautifull time of the year The days were now long and the Sky was now clear And May that fair Lady of splendid renown Had dress'd herself fine in her flowr'd Tabby Gown When about some two hours and an half after Nooâ— When it grew something late though I thought it too soon With a pitifull voice and a most heavy heart I tun'd up my Pipes to sing loth to depart The Ditty concluded I call'd for my Horse And with a good pack did the Jument endorse Till he groan'd and he farted under the burthen For sorrow had made me a cumbersome Lurden And now farewell Dove where I 've caught such brave Dishes Of over-grown golden and silver-scal'd Fishes Thy Trout and thy Grailing may now feed securely I 've left none behind me can take 'em so surely Feed on then and breed on untill the next year But if I return I expect my arrear By pacing and trotting betimes in the Even Eâ—er the Sun had forsaken one half of the Heaven We all at fair Congerton took up our Inn Where the Sign of a King kept a King and his Quee But who do you think came to wellcome me there No worse a man marry than good Master Mayor With his Staff of Command yet the man was not lame But he needed it more when he went than he came After three or four hours of friendly potation We took leave each of other in courteous fashion When each one to keep his Brains fast in his head Put on a good Night-cap and streight-way to bed Next Morn having paid for boil'd roasted and Bacon And of sovereign Hostess our leaves kindly taken For her King as 't was rumor'd by late pouring down This morning had got a foul flaw in his crown We mounted again and full soberly riding Three miles we had rid e'er we met with a biding But there having over night plied the Tap well We now must needs water at place call'd Holmes Chapel A Hay quoth the foremost Ho! who keeps the House Which said out an Host comes as brisk as a Louse His hair comb'd as slick as a Barber he 'd bin A Cravat with black Ribbon ti'd under his chin Though by what I saw in him I streight'gan to fear That knot would be one day slip'd under his ear Quoth he with low Congy what lack you my Lord The best Liquor quoth I that the House will afford You shall streight quoth he and then calls out Mary Come quickly and bring us a quart of Canary Hold hold my spruce Host for i' th' Morning so early I never drink Liquor but what 's made of Barley Which words were scarce out but which made me admire My Lordship was presently turn'd into Squire Ale Squire you mean quoth he nimbly again What must it be purl'd no I love it best plain Why if you 'll drink Ale Sir pray take my advice Here 's the best Ale i' th' Land if you 'll go to the price Better I
good and ill of those you love and hate In vain I sue to her I so adore In vain her help that has no Power implore For as black Night pursues the glorious Sun The greatest Good does but some Ill fore-run When handsome Paris liv'd with Helen fair He saw his Fortune rais'd above his Care But Fate severely did revenge that bliss For as with time his Fortune changed is From his Delights sprang a debate that Fire Brought to old Troy and massacred his Sire And though in that subversion there appearâ— Such sad mishaps of Bloud of Fire and Tears Yet by that Heavenly Face I so adore I swear for love of thee I suffer more For so long absent from thy gracious Eyes Methinks I banisht am the Deities And that from Heaven with Thunder wrapt in Flame To th' Centre I precipitated am Since I left thee my Pleasures in their Tomb â—ye dead and I their Mourner am become With all Delights my Thoughts distasted are And only to dislike the World take care Which as complying with my peevish Will Does nothing I protest but vex me still In Paris like an Hermit I retire And in one Object limit my Desire Where e'er my Eyes seek to divert my Mind I bear the Prison where I am confin'd My Blood is sir'd and my Soul wounded lies By th' golden Shaft shot from thy killing Eyes All the Temptations that I daily see Serve only to confirm my Faith to thee The usual helps that humane Reâ—son bless To render a Man's Passion someâ—hing less Stir mine up more to suffer chearfully Th' obliging Torments that do make me dye My Prudence by my Courage is withstood As by a rock the fury of the Floud I love my Frenzy and I could not love Him of my Friends that should it disapprove Nor do I think my reasonable part Will e'er approach me whilst thou absent art I find my Thoughts uncessantly approve The torturing effects of faithful Love. I find that Day it self shares in my pain The Air 's o'respread with Clouds the Earth with Rain That horrid Visions in my starting Sleep My Souls in their illusions tangled keep That all the apprehensions in my Head Are Madness by my feverish Passion bred That at husht midnight I imagine Storms And see a Ship-wrack in its dreadfull'st Forms Fall from the top of an high precipice Into the Jaws of an obscure Abyss And there a thousand ugly Serpents see Hissing t' advance their scaly Crests at me I cannot once dream of a false Delight But cruel Death straight seizes me in spite But when Heaven weary to have gone thus far Gives that I live under a better Star And when th' unconstant Stars by their chang'd power Present me for my Pains one happy hour My Soul will find it self chang'd at thy sight And of all past mishaps revenged quite Though in Nights Sleep my Spirits buried lay Thy sight my Dear would lend them beams of Day Thy Voice has over me the self same power With Zephyr's Breath over th' Earth's wither'd Flower The vigorous Springs makes all things fresh and new The blowing Rose puts on her blushing hue The Heavens more gay the Days more fair appear Aurora dressing to the Birds gives ear The wild Beasts of the Forrest free from Care Do feel their Bloud and Youth renewed are And naturally obedient to their Sense Without remorse their Pleasures recommence I only in the season all are blest With cruel and continual Griefs opprest Alone in Winter sad and comfortless See not the glorious Spring that we should blâ—ss I only see the Forrest fair forsook ' Th' Earths surface Desart and the frozen Brook And as if charm'd cannot once tast the Fruit That in this season to all Palats suit But when those Suns my adoration claim Shall with their Rays once reinforce my Flame My Spring will then return more sweet and fair By thousand times than those ' Heavens Lamp gives are If ever Fate allow mine Eyes that grace My Joys will transcend those of humane Race Nothing but that Oh Gods nothing but that Do I desire to baâ—â—le Death and Fate Out of Astrea MADRIGALL I Think I could my Passions sway Though great as Beauties power can move To such obedience as to say I cannot or I do not love But to pretend another Flame Since I adore thy conqu'ring Eye To thee and Truth were such a shame I cannot do it though I dye If I must one or th' other do Then let me die I beg of you Stanzes upon the Death of Cleon. Out of Astrea I. THE Beauty which so soon to Cinders turn'd By Death of her Humanity depriv'd Like Light'ning vanisht like the Bolt it burn'd So great this Beauty was and so short liv'd II. Those Eyes so practis'd once in all the Arts That loyal Love attempted or e'er knew Those fair Eyes now are shut that once the hearts Of all that saw their lustre did subdue III. If this be true Beauty is ravisht hence Love vanquisht droops that ever conquered And she who gave Life by her influence Is if she live not in my Bosom dead IV. Henceforth what happiness can Fortune send Since Death this abstract of all Joy has won Since Shadows do the Substance still attend And that our good does but our ill fore-run V. It seems my Cleon in thy rising morn That Destiny thy whole Days course had bound And that thy Beauty dead as soon as born It s fatal Hearâ—e has in its Cradle â—ound VI. No no thou shalt not die I Death will prove Who Life by thy sweet Inspiration drew If Lovers live in that which doth them love Thou liv'st in me who ever lov'd most true VII If I do live Love then will have it known That even Death it self he can controul Or as a God to have his Power shown Will that I live without of Heart or Soul. VIII But Cleon if Heav'ns unresisâ—ed will 'Point thee of Death th' inhumane Fate to try Love to that Fate equals my Fortune still Thou by my mourning by the Death I dye IX Thus did I my immortal Sorrows Breath Mine Eyes to Fountains turn'd of springing Woe But could not stay the wounding Hand of Death Lament but not lessen misfortune so X. When Love with me having bewail'd the loss Of this sweet Beauty thus much did express Cease cease to weep this mourning is too gross Our Tears are still than our misfortune less Song of the inconstant Hylas Out of Astrea I. IF one disdain me then I fly Her Cruelty and her Disdain And e'er the Morning guild the Sky Another Mistriss do obtain They err who hope by force to move A Womans Heart to like or love II. Iâ— oft falls out that they who in Discretion seem us to despise Nourish a greater Fire within Although perhaps conceal'd it lies Which we when once we quit our rooms Do kindle for the next that comes III. The faithful Fool that obstinatâ— Pursues a
she ickle Be she pious or ungodly Be she chaste or what sounds odly Lastly be she good or evil Be she Saint or be she Devil Yet uneasie is his Life Who is marri'd to a Wife If fair she 's subject to temptation If foul her self 's solicitation If young and sweet she is too tender If old and cross no man can mend her If too too kind she 's over clinging If a true scold she 's ever ringing If blith find Fiddles or y'undoe her If sad then call a Casuist to her If a Wit she 'll still be jeering If a Fool she 's ever fleering If too wary then she 'll shrue thee If too lavish she 'll undoe thee If staid she 'll mope a year together If gadding then to London with her If true she 'll think you don 't deserve her If false a thousand will not serve her If lustfull send her to a Spittle If cold she is for one too little If she be of th' Reformation Thy House will be a Convocation If a Libertine then watch it At the window thou maist catch it If chaste her pride will still importune If a Whore thou know'st thy Fortune So uneasie is his Life Who is marri'd to a Wife These are all extremes I know But all Womankind is so And the Golden Mean to none Of that cloven Race is known Or to one if known it be Yet that one 's unknown to me Some Vlissean Traveller May perhaps have gone so sar As t' have found in spight of Nature Such an admirable Creature If a Voyager there be Has made that discovery He the fam'd Odcombian gravels And may rest to write his Travels But alas there 's no such woman The Calamity is common The first rib did bring in ruine And the rest have since been doing Some by one way some another Woman still is mischief's mother And yet cannot Man forbear Though it cost him ne'er so dear Yet with me 't is out of season To complain thus without reason Since the best and sweetest fair Is allotted to my share But alas I love her so That my love creates my woe For if she be out of humour Streight displeas'd I do presume her And would give the World to know What it is offends her so Or if she be discontented Lord how am I then tormented And am ready to persuade her That I have unhappy made her But if sick I then am dying Meat and Med'cine both defying So uneasie is his Life Who is marri'd to a Wife What are then the Marr'age Joys That make such a mighty noise All 's enclos'd in one short Sentence Little Pleasure great Repentance Yet it is so sweet a Pleasure To repent we scarce have leisure Till the pleasure wholly fails Save sometimes by Intervals But those intervals again Are so full of deadly pain That the pleasure we have got Is in Conscience too dear bought Pox on 't would Womankind be free What needed this Solemnity This foolish way of coupl'ing so That all the World forsooth must know And yet the naked truth to say They are so perfect grown that way That if 't only be for pleasure You would marry take good leisure Since none can ever want supplies For natural necessities Without exposing of his Life To the great trouble of a Wife Why then all the great pains taking Why the sighing why the waking Why the riding why the running Why the artifice and cunning Why the whining why the crying Why pretending to be dying Why all this clutter to get Wives To make us weary of our Lives If Fruition we profess To be the only happiness How much happier then is he Who with the industrious Bee Preys upon the several Sweets Of the various Flow'rs he meets Than he who with less delight Dulls on one his Appetite Oh 't is pleasant to be free The sweetest Miss is Liberty And though who with one sweet is bless'd May reap the sweets of all the rest In her alone who fair and true As Love is all for which we sue Whose several Graces may supply The place of full variety And whose true kindness or address Summs up the All of happiness Yet 't is better live alone Free to all than ti'd to one Since uneasie is his Life Who is marri'd to a Wife ODE To Love. I. GReat Love I thank thee now thou hast Paid me for all my suff'rings past And wounded me with Nature's Pride For whom more glory 't is to die Scorn'd and neglected than enjoy All Beauty in the world beside II. A Beauty above all pretence Whose very scorns are recompence The Regent of my heart is crown'd And now the sorrows and the woe My Youth and Folly help'd me to Are buried in this friendly wound III. Led by my Folly or my Fate I lov'd before I knew not what And threw my thoughts I knew not where With judgment now I lvoe and sue And never yet perfection knew Untill I cast mine eyes on her IV. My Soul that was so base before Each little beauty to adore Now rais'd to Glory does despise Those poor and counterfeited rays That caught me in my childish days And knows no power but her eyes V. Rais'd to this height I have no more Almighty Love for to implorâ— Of my auspicious Stars or thee Than that thou bow her noble mind To be as mercifully kind As I shall ever faithfull be Song I. SAd thoughts make hast and kill me out I live too long in pain 'T is dying to be still in doubt And death that ends all miseries The chief and only favour is The wretched can obtain II. I have liv'd long enough to know That life is a Disease At least it does torment me so That Death at whom the happy start I court to come and with his Dart To give me a release III. Come friendly Death then strike me dead For all this while I die And but long dying nothing dread Yet beign with grief the one half slain With all thy power thou wilt gain But half a Victory Elegy AWay to th' other world away In this I can no longer stay I long enough in this have stai'd To see my self poorly betrai'd Forsaken robb'd and left alone And to all purposes undone What then can tempt me to live on My Peace and Honour being gone O yes I still am call'd upon To stay by my affliction Oh fair affliction let me go You best can part with me I know 'T is an ill natur'd pride you take To triumph o'er the fool you make And you loose time in trampling o'er One whilst you might make twenty more Your eyes have still the conqu'ring pow'r They had in that same dang'rous hour They laid me at your beauties feet Your Roses still as fair and sweet And there more hearts are to subdue But oh not one that 's half so true Dismiss me then t'eternal rest I cannot live but in your Breast Where banish'd by Inconstancy The world has
that on their Fellows feed 8. The Air 's Inhabitants and scaly brood That live and wanton in the Flood And whatsoe'er does either swim or creep Thorough th'investigable Deep 9. Throughout the spacious Earth's extended frame How great is thy adored Name Advice I. GO thou perpetual whining Lover For shame leave off this humble Trade 'T is more than time thou gav'st it over For sighs and tears will never move her By them more obstinate she 's made And thou by Love fond constant Love betray'd II. The more vain Fop thou su'st unto her The more she does torment thee still Is more perverse the more you woo her When thou art humblest lays thee lower And when most prostrate to her will Thou meanly begg'st for life does basely kill III. By Heaven 't is against all Nature Honour and Manhood Wit and Sense To let a little Female Creature Rule on the poor account of Feature And thy unmanly patience Monstrous and shamefull as her Insolence IV. Thou may'st find forty will be kinder Or more compassionate at least If one will serve two hours will find her And half this ' doe for ever bind her As firm and true as thine own Breast On Love and Vertue 's double Interest V. But if thou canst not live without her This onely she when it comes to 't And she relent not as I doubt her Never make more adoe about her To sigh and whimper is no boot Go hang thy self and that will do 't Lyrick Ex Cornelio Gallo Trans LYdia thou lovely Maid whose white The Milk and Lilly does outvie The pale and blushing Roses light Or polish'd Indian Ivory Dishevel Sweet thy yellow hair Whose Ray doth burnish'd Gold disprize Disclose thy neck so white and fair That doth from snowy shoulders rise Virgin unvail those starry eyes Whose Sable brows like arches spread Unvail those Cheeks where the Rose lies Streak'd with the Tyrian Purple's red Lend me those Lips with Coral lin'd And kisses mild of Doves impart Thou ravishest away my mind Those gentle kisses wound my heart Why suck'st thou from my panting Breast The youthfull Vigour of my Bloud Hide those twin-apples ripe if press'd To spring into a milky Floud From thy expanded bosome breath Perfumes Arabia doth not know Thy ev'ry part doth love bequeath From thee all excellencies flow Thy bosome 's killing-white then shade Hide that temptation from mine eye See'st not I languish cruel Maid Wilt thou then go and let me die Amoret in Masquerade BLess me wonder how I 'm struck With that Youth 's victorious look So much Lustre so much Grace Never broke from humane face Fond Narcissus was an Ass Cynthia's Love a Moon-Calf was Ganimede that bears Iove's Boul Was a Chit Paris an Owl And Adonis with th'fine Miss Was a Puppy-Dog to this Women now lay by your Charms Here is one has other Arms And of greater power too Than your Megazines can shew All your Beauties all your Arts Conqu'ring or deceiving hearts You may spare and let alone We shall henceforth be by none Conquer'd but this peerless one Yet I have a Lover been Sev'ral Beauties I have seen Nor in Love am yet so rude But I 've often been subdu'd Nor so old but that again Once more struck I might have been By some Glances or some Features Of those little Female Creatures Had I but escap'd this night Seeing of this charming sight But now having seen those eyes I all Female force despise Yet my flame I can't approve 'T is but a prodigious love And there can be little joy In thus doating on a Boy Who although he love again Never can reward my pain Yet methinks it cannot be There is in 't some Mystery Nature sure would ne'er so use me Nor Instinct so much abuse me As my Reason thus to blind But there 's something in the wind â— have e'er a loather been Of the foul Italian Sin And yet know not where the bliss is â—n a little Stripling 's kisses My heart tells me to those eyes There belongs a pair of thighs â—Twixt whose Iv'ry Columns is Th'Ebor folding door to bliss And this Spring all that we see â—trut with such Formality â—uff and strive to look so big â— but Pallas in a Wigg And though his count'nance he doth set To a good pitch of counterfeit Yet he cannot hide the while â—enus dimple in his smile Were the Story not cold fled â—nd the party long since dead â—should swear a thousand Oaths Hellen 't were in Paris cloths But there I should wrong him yet Hellen was not half so sweet For all Greeks and Trojans arming Nor is Venus half so charming Pretty Monsieur I must pry More into your Symmetry Those fine Fingers were not made To be put to th'fighting trade And that pretty little arme Methinks threatens no great harm Wastes which Thimbles will environ Are not to be shell'd with Iron And those little Martin-nests Which swell out upon your Breasts With Steel are not to be press'd But whereon for Kings to rest Your soft Belly not unlike May sometimes feel push of Pike But there will be Balsom found In the Spear to heal the wound Nor those thighs yet by their leaves Were I take it made for Greaves Nor yet do you walk so wide As you us'd to ride astride But look your Saddle when you do Be well stuff'd and pummell'd too Next those pretty Legs and Feet Ne'er were spur'd and booted yet I dare swear it Come tell truth Are you not a cloven Youth See he laughs and has confess'd God-a-mercy for the Jest Monsieur Amoret let me Your Valet de Chambre be I will serve with humble duty Both your Valour and your Beauty You shall all day Master hight But my Mistriss Sir at night Which if you will please to grant To your humble Supplicant Since you wear your Wigg so â—eatly And become your Cloaths so neatly He has sworn who thus beseeches You shall always wear the Breeches Estreines To Calista I. I Reckon the first day I saw those eyes Which in a moment made my heart their prize To all my whole futurity The first day of my first new year Since then I first began to be And knew why Heaven plac'd me here For till we love and love discreetly too We nothing are nor know we what we doe II. Love is the Soul of Life though that I know Is call'd Soul too but yet it is not so Not rational at least untill Beauty with her diviner light Illuminates the groaping will And shews us how to chuse aright And that 's first prov'd by th' objects it refuses And by being constant then to that it chuses III. Days Weeks Months Years and Lustres take So small time up i' th' Lover's Almanack And can so little Love assuage That we in truth can hardly say When we have liv'd at least an Age A long one we have lov'd a day This day to me so slowly does time move Seems but
since he 's beaten Hill does tell tho Law shall give him salve for 's Elbow Lampon c. On Annel-seed Robin the Hermophrodite EPITAPH HEre Reader lyes bereft of life The Embleme strange of Man and Wife Who if they pay their Vows aright Make up a true Hermophrodite And in this Chest Entombed are The wonder of a single pair So that here thou may'st bewail Either the Female or the Male. Though the distracted grief of Friends Ever in single Robin ends No Rib was taken from his side Robin Bridegroom was and Bride And of his Marriage tye so tender He only did with She engender Robin with Robin so far won That the Male half begot a Son The Female half a few years after Happily brought forth a Daughter So like you from their looks might gather That Robin Mother was and Father From Robin only diff'ring thus That neither was Amphibious Heav'n did so happily combine This Doubtful Gender Masculine That they were Married at their Birth And both together laid in Earth Where let them lye and no Man thwart 'em If they must part the Devil part ' em ODE To Chloe I. FAlse one farewell thou hast releast The Fire imprison'd in my breast Your beauties make not half the show They did a year or two ago For now I find The Beauties those fair walls enshrin'd Foul and deform'd appear Ah! where In Woman is a spotless mind II. I would not now take up thine Eyes But in revenge to tyrannize Nor should'st thou make me blot my skin With the black thou wear'st within If thou would'st meet As Brides do in the Nuptial Sheet I would not kiss nor play But say Thou nothing hast that can be sweet III. I was betray'd by that fair Sign To entertainment cold within But found that fine built Fabrick lin'd With so ill contriv'd a Mind That now I must For ever Chloe leave to trust The face that so beguiles With smiles Falsehood's a charm to love or lust ODE To Chloris from France I. PItty me Chloris and the flame Disdain and Distance cannot tame And pitty my necessity That makes my Court-ship wanting thee Nothing but fond Idolatry II. In dark and melancholy Groves Where pretty Birds discourse their loves I daily worship on my knee Thy Shadow all I have of thee And sue to that to pity me III. I vow to it the sacred Vow To thee and only thee I owe When as it knew my true intent The silent Picture gives consent And seems to mourn my Banishment IV. Presaging thence my love's success I triumph in my happiness And straight consider how each Grace Adorns thy Body or thy Face Surrender up to my embrace V. I think this little Tablet now Because less cruel fair as Thou I do from it mercy implore 'T is the sole Saint I do adore I do not think I love thee more VI. Yet be not jealous though I do Thus dote of it in stead of you I love it not for any line Where captivating beauties shine But only Chloris as 't is thine VII And though thy Shaddow here take place By intimating future grace It goes before but to impart To thee how beautiful thou art And shew a reason for my smart VIII Nor is' t improper Sweet since thou Art in thy Youthfull Morning now Whilst I depriv'd of thine eyes light Do drooping live a tedious Night In Paris like an Anchorite IX Recall me then that I may see Once more how fair and kind you be Into thy Sun-shine call again Him thus exil'd by thy disdain And I 'le forget my loss and pain An Invitation to Phillis COme live with me and be my love And thou shalt all the pleasures prove The Mountains towring tops can show Inhabiting the Vales below From a brave height my Star shall shine T' illuminate the desart Clime Thy Summer's bower shall overlook The subtil windings of the Brook For thy delight which only springs And cuts her way with Turtles Wings The Pavement of thy Rooms shall shine With the bruis'd Treasures of the Mine And not a Tale of Love but shall In Minoture adorn thy wall Thy closet shall Queens Caskets mock With rustick Iewels of the Rock And thine own light shall make a Gemm As bright of these as Queens of them From this thy Sphear thou shalt behold Thy snowy Ewes troop o're the mold Who yearly pay my Love a-piece A tender Lamb and silver Fleece And when Sols Rayes shall all combine Thine to out-burn though not outshine Then at the foot of some green Hill Where crystal Dove runs murm'ring still We 'll angle for the bright-ey'd Fish To make my Love a dainty dish Or in a Cave by Nature made Fly to the covert of the shade Where all the pleasures we will prove Taught by the little God of love And when bright Phoebus scorching beams Shall cease to guild the Silver streams Then in the cold arms of the Flood We 'll bathing cool the factious Blood Thy beautious Limbs the Brook shall grace Like the reflex of Cynthia's Face Whilst all the wond'ring Fry do greet The welcome Light adore thy Feet Supposing Venus to be come To send a kiss to Thetis home And following Night shall trifled be Sweet as thou know'st I promis'd thee Thus shall the Summers Days and Nights Be dedicate to thy delights Then live with me and be my love And all these pleasures shalt thou prove But when the sapless Season brings Cold Winter on her shivering Wings â—reezing the Rivers liquid face â—â—to a crystal Looking-glass And that the Trees their naked bones Together knock like Skeletons Then with the softest whitest Locks Spun from the tribute of thy Flocks We will o're-cast thy whiter Skin Winter without a Spring within At the first peep of Day I 'le rise To make the sullen Hare thy prize And Thou with open Arms shalt come To bid thy Hunter welcome home The Partridge Plover and the Poot I 'le with the subtle Mallard shoot The Fell-fare and the greedy Thrush Shall drop from ev'ry Haâ—â—-thorn Bush And the slow Heron down shall fall To feed my Fairest Fair withall The feather'd People of the Air Shall fall to be my Phillis fare No Storm shall touch thee Tempest move Then live with me and be my love But from her Cloister when I bring My Phillis to restore the Spring The ruffling Boreas shall withdraw The Snow shall melt the Ice shall thaw The Aguish Plants fresh Leaves shall shew The earth put on her verdant hue And thou Fair Phillis shalt be seen Mine and the Summers beautious Queen These and more pleasures shalt thou prove Then live with me and be my love The Entertainment to Phillis NOW Phâ—ebus is gone down to sleep In cold embraces of the deep And Nights Pavillion in the Sky Crown'd with a Starry Canopy Erected stands whence the pale Moon Steals out to her Endimion Over the Meads and o're the Floods Thorough the ridings of the Woods Th' enamour'd
Huntress scours her ways And through Night's vail her horns displays I have a Bower for my Love Hid in the Center of a Grove Of aged Oaks close from the sight Of all the prying Eyes of Night The polish'd Walls of Marble be Pillaster'd round with porphyry Casements of Chrystal to transmit Night 's sweets to thee and thine to it Fine silver Locks to Ebon Doors Rich gilded Roofs and Cedar Floors With all the Objects may express A pleasing Solitariness Within my Love shall find each room New furnish'd from the Silk-worms Loom Vessels of the true antick mold Cups cut in Amber Myrrh and Gold Quilts blown with Roses Beds with Down More white than Atlas aged Crown Carpets where Flowers woven grow Only thy sweeter steps to strew Such as may emulation bring To the wrought mantle of the Spring There silver Lamps shall silent shine Supply'd by Oyls of Iessamine And mists of Odours shall arise To air thy little Paradise I have such Fruits too for thy taste As teeming Autumn never grac't Apples as round as thine own Eyes Or as thy Sister Beauties prize Smooth as thy snowy Skin and sleek And ruddy as the Morning's cheek Grapes that the Tyrian purple wear The spritely Matrons of the Year Such as Lyoeus never bare About his drowsy Brows so fair So plump so large so ripe so good So full of flavour and of blood There 's Water in a Grot hard by To quench thee when with dalliance dry Sweet as the Milk of Sand-red Cow Brighter than Cynthi'as silver Bow Cold as the Goddess self e'er was And clearer than thy Looking-glass But oh the summ of all delight For which the Day submits to Night Is that my Phillis thou wilt find When we are in embraces twin'd Pleasures that so have tempted Iove To all his Masquerades of Love For them the Prince his purple waves And strips him naked as his Slaves 'T is they that teach humanity The thing we love the reason why Before we livâ— but ne'er 'till then Are females Women or males Men This is the way and this the trade That does perfect what nature made Then go but first thy beauties skreen Lest they that revell on the Lawns The Nymphs the Satyrs and the Fawns Adore thee for Nights horned Queen To Coelia ODE I. WHen Coelia must my old Days set And my young morning rise In beams of Joy so bright as yet Ne're blest a Lover's eyes My state is more advanc'd than when I first attempted thee I su'd to be a Servant then But now to be made free II. I 've serv'd my time faithfull and true Expecting to be plac't In happy freedom as my due To all the joys thou hast Ill husbandry in love is such A scandal to Loves pow'r We ought not to mispend so much As one poor short-liv'd hour III. Yet think not sweet I 'me weary grown That I pretend such haste Since none to surfeit e're was known Before he had a taste My infant love could humbly wait When young it scarce knew how To plead but grown to Man's estate He is impatient now To Cupid O D E. I. FOnd Love deliver up thy Bow I am become more Love than thou I am as wanton grown and wild Much less a Man and more a Child From Venus born of chaster kind A better Archer though as blind II. Surrender without more ado I am both King and Subject too I will command but must obey I am the Hunter and the Prey I vanquish yet am overcome And sentencing receive my doom III. No springing Beauty scapes my Dart And ev'ry ripe one wounds my Heart Thus whilst I wound I wounded am And firing others turn to flame To shew how far love can combine The Mortal part with the Divine IV. Faith quit thine Empire and come down That thou and I may share the Crown I 've try'd the worst thy arms can do Come then and taste my power too Which howsoe're it may fall short Will doubtless prove the better sport V. Yet do not for in Field and Town The Females are so loving grown So kind or else so lustful we Can neither err though neither see Keep then thine own Dominions Lad Two Loves would make all Women mad The Tempest I. STanding upon the Margent of the main Whilst the high boiling tyde came tumbling in I felt my fluctuating thoughts maintain As great an Ocean and as rude within As full of waves of depths and broken grounds As that which daily laves her chalky bounds II. â—oon could my sad imagination find A parallel to this half world of Flood An Ocean by my walls of Earth confin'd And Rivers in the chanells of my blood Discov'ring Man unhappy Man to be Of this great Frame Heavens Epitome III. There pregnant Argosies with full Sails ride To shoot the Gulphs of sorrow and despair Of which the Love no Pilot has to Guide But to her Sea-born Mother steers by pray'r When oh the Hope her anchor lost undone Rowls at the mercy of the Regent Moon IV. T is my ador'd Diana then must be The Guidress to this beaten Bark of mine 'T is she must calm and smooth this troubled Sea And wast my hope over the vaulting Brine Call home thy venture Dian then at last And be as merciful as thou art chast The Litany I. FRom a Ruler that 's a curse And a Government that 's worse From a Prince that rules by awe Whose Tyranick Will 's his Law From an armed Councel board And a Scepter that 's a Sword Libera nos c II. From a Kingdom that from health Sickens to a Common-wealth From such Peers as stain their blood And are neither wise nor good From a Gentry steept in Pots From unkennellers of Plots Libera nos c. III. From a Church without Divines And a Presbyter that whines From Iohn Calvin and his Pupils From a Sentence without Scruples From a Clergy without Letters And a Free-State bound in Fetters Libera nos c. IV. From the bustle of the Town And the Knavish Tribe o' th' Gown From long Bills where we are Debters From Bum-Bailiffs and their Setters From the tedious City Lectures And Thanksgivings for Protectors Libera nos c. V. From ill Victuals when we dine And a Tavern with ill Wine From vile Smoke in a short Pipe And a Landlord that will gripe From long Reck'nings and a Wench That Claps in English or in French Libera nos c. VI. From Demeans whose barren soil Ne're produc'd the Barley Oyl From a Friend for nothing fit That nor Courage has nor Wit From all Lyars and from those Who write nonsence Verse or Prose Libera nos c. VII From a Virgin that 's no Maid From a kicking stumbling Jade From false Servants and a Scold From all Women that are old From loud Tongues that never lye And from a domestick Spy Libera nos c. VIII From a domineering Spouse From a smoky durty House From foul Linnen and the
cruel Beauty's Love To him and to his Truth ingrate Idolater does he not prove That from his pow'rless Idol never Receives a Med'cine for his Fever IV. They say the unweary'd Lovers pains By instance meet with good success For he by force his end obtains 'T is an odd method of Address To what Design so e're 't relate Still still to be importunate V. Do but observe the hourly Fears Of your pretended faithful Lover Nothing but Sorrow Sighs and Tears You in his chearfull'st Looks discover As though the Lovers Sophistry Were nothing but to whine and cry VI. â—â—â—ght he by a Man's Name be styl'd â—hat losing th' Honor of a Man â—hines for his Pepin like a Child â—hipt and sent back to School again Or rather Fool that thinks amiss He loves but knows not what Love is VII 〈◊〉 my part I 'll decline this Folly 〈◊〉 others harms thank Fate grown wise â—â—ch Dotage begets Melancholly â— must profess Loves Liberties And never angry am at all At them who me inconstamt call SONNET Out of Astrea SInce I must now eradicate the Flame Which seeing you Love in my Bosom plac't And the Desires which thus long could last Kindled so well and nourisht in the same Since Time that first saw their Original Must triumph in their end and Victor be Let 's have a brave Design and to be free Cut off at once the Briar-rose and all â—et us put out the Fire Love has begot â—â—eak the tough Cord tied with so fast a knot And voluntary take a brave adieu â—o shall we nobly conquer Love and Fate â—nd at the Liberty of choice do that Which time its self at last would make us do A PARAPHRASE THE Beauty that must me delight Must have Skin and Teeth Snow white Black arched Brows black sprightly Eyes And a black Beauty 'twixt her Th ghs Soâ—t blushing Cheeks a Person tall Long Hair long Hands and Fingers small Short Teeth and Feet that little are Dilated Brows and Haunches fair Fine silken Hair Lips full and red Small Nose with little Breast and Head All these in one and that one kind Would make a Mistriss to my Mind An Essay upon Buchanan's First Book de Sphaera Never perfected HOW various are the World 's great parts I sing And by what League the jarring Seeds of things Agree in one the Causes Motion breed Why Darkness Light and Coldness Heat succeed And why the Suns and the Moons horned Light Suffer Eclipses of o're-shading Night Thou who the Temples wall'd with sacred Light. Impenetrable to our weaker sight Inhabit'st holy Father of the Skies Propitious be to this bold Enterprize Whilst to the World we do Thy Acts reveal And the immense Work of the Pole unseal That people ignorant of Truth a Mind From Sloth and long-liv'd Error so refin'd May lift to Heav'n and whilst amaz'd the Ball They so embraced with a Flaming Wall And wheeling times return in certain course May own the Mover and admire his Force â—hat props so great a Pile that with the bit Of his Eternal Law doth govern it And in His secret Council has decreed 〈◊〉 fit for Man's innumerable Need. And thou young Mercury Tymolion Thy Father's and thy Country's hopeful Son Go my Companion in thy tender Years Câ—â—â—alion Woods and sacred Founts draw near â—requent that unknown Peace and Nymphs soft Choires Subject to loss nor avaritious Fires The time will come when time has giv'n Thee Force That thou shalt bravely with thy foaming Horse Rush into War and gloriously advance In dusty Fields thy Country's threatning Launce Till then thy Syre either shall Lombards deign T' orecome wild Germans and the Warlike Spain By Force or Conduct Or with Gallick spoil Dazling the Sun deck Calidonia's Soyl. Caetera desunt Cn. Cornelii Galli vel potius Maximiani Elegia 1. Trans WHY envious Age dost thou my End delay Why in this wearied Trunk delight to stay My captive Life from such a Prison free Death now is Rest when Life is Misery I 'm no more what I was but sunk and old And what remains is languishing and cold The day that young Men chears offends mine Eye And which is worse than Death I wish to die I was my Youth whilst Wit and Beautâ— crown'd An Orator throughout the World renown'd The Poets charming lies full oft I feign'd And by fictitious Tales true Titles gain'd In all Disputes of Wit the Wreath bore I And have my Eloquence reputed high High and immortal Oh! what then remains Worthy an old Man's Living or his Pains Nor less than these the Beauty of my Face Which though the rest are wanting wins much Grace Manhood to that which richer far than Gold Makes Wit a greater price and Lustre hold If I with Dogs the Thickets would surround The conquer'd Prey fell at my Launces Wound Or would I loose Shafts from the bending Yew With great applause untamed Beasts I slew Or with the sinewy Wrestlers if I try'd With my strong Nerves their oyly Limbs I ty'd â—ow at the Race I all that came out-run And now in Tragick Song the Buskin won This mixture of good things my worth increast â—â—ill various Works of Art advance us best For whatsoever things simply delight Joyn'd to another Grace shine out more bright With such a Mine of Fortitude adorn'd All threatning Dangers I contemn'd and scorn'd Bare-head I made the Winds and Storms retreat Feeling no Winters Cold nor Summer's Heat I swam the yellow Tyber's gelid Stream And fearless would the doubtful Current sâ—em With the least Sleep I could forsake my Bed And with the slend'rest fare be amply fed Or if a drunken Guest surpriz'd my Walls To waste the forlorn day in Bacchanals Lyaeus self struck Sail amaz'd and dumb And he that always conquer'd fel o'recome Nor is' t an easy thing the Mind to bend At once with two Opposers to contend And in this kind of strife they say of Yore Great Socrates the Victor's Trophy bore And thus they say the rigid Cato won Things are not ill themselves unless ill done To all things dreadless I oppos'd my Face And to my constant Mind Mischance gave place With little pleas'd I still lov'd to be poor And being Lord of all could wish no more Thou only wretched Age dost me subdue To whom who conquers all things else must bow 'T is into thee we fall and what at last Decays and withers thou alone dost wast Hetruria ravisht with these parts of mine Wish'd that I would with her fair Daughters twine But Liberty to me was far more sweet Than all the Pleasures of the Nuptial Sheet In my gay Youth I walk'd about proud Rome To view what Virgins there might overcome Which might be won or which was fit to seek When at their sight soft blushes stain'd my Cheek Now runs a smiling Girl her self to hide And yet not so as not to be descry'd But by some single part to be reveal'd Gladder by much to be so ill conceal'd
Lâ—pidary's Bagatells Nor he that when he sleeps doth lye Under a stately Canopy Nor he that still supinely hides 〈◊〉 easie Down his lazy Sides Nor he that Purple wears and sups Luxurious Draughts in Golden Cups Nor he that loads with Princely fare His bowing Tables whil'st they 'll bear Nor he that has each spacious Vault With Deluges of Plenty fraught Cul'd from the fruitful Libyan Fields When Autumn his best Harvest yields But he whom no mischance affrights No Popular applause delights That can unmov'd and undismay'd Confront a Ruffins threatning Blade Who can do this that Man alone Has Power Fortune to Disthrone Q. Cicero de Mulierum levitate Translat COmmit a Ship unto the Wind But not thy Faith to Women kind For th' Oceans waving Billows are Safer than Womans Faith by far No Woman's Good and if there be Hereafter such a Thing as she â—Tis by I know not what of Fate That can from Bad a Good Create Epig. de Monsieur Maynard SOme Men of Sense and who pretend to be Ancient Well-willers to your Family Photiâ— give out that Baud Men may thee call And do thy modesty no wrong at all Thou swear'st they Infamously lye And that no Word of Verity They ever spake then or before And yet it cannot be deny'd But by thy Cuckold Husbands side Thou every Night dost lay a Whore. In Coccam Epig. de Monsieur Maynard THy Cheeks having their Roses shed And thy whole frame through Age become So loathsom for all use in Bed That 't is much fitter for a Tomb Cocca thou shouldst not be so vain Although thy Eloquence be great As to expect it should obtain That I should do the filthy Feat And that same Engine in your Hood You Cherish Court and Flatter so Now you have made him barely stood Is not so charitable though As in his vigorous Youth to be A Crutch to your Antiquity Epig. de Monsieur Maynard OLd Fop why should you take such pains To Paint and Perriwig it so My nobler Love alas disdains To stoop so infamously low Time that does mow the fairest Flowers Has made so very bold with yours You should expect to be deny'd The Footmen can no more endure you And if no sport in Hell assure you You 'll never more be Occupy'd Epig. writ in Calistas Prayer Book By Monsieur Malherbe WHilst you are Deaf to Love you my Fairest Calista Weep and Pray And yet alas no Mercy find Not but God's Merciful 't is true But can you think he 'll grant to you What you deny to all Mankind ODE Bacchique de Monsieur Racau I. NOw that the Day 's short and forlorn Of Melancholick Capricorn To Chimny-corners Men translate Drown we our Sorrows in the Glass And let the thoughts of Warfare pass The Clergy and the Third Estate II. Maynard I know what thou hast writ That sprightly issue of thy Wit Will live whilst there are Men to read But what if they recorded be In Memories Temple boots it thee When thou art gnawnby Worms and dead III. Henceforth those fruitless Studies spare Let 's rather Drink until we stare Of this delicious Juice of ours Which does in excellence precede The beverage which Ganimede Into th' Immortals Gebâ—et pours IV. The Juicâ— that sparkles in this Glass Make tediâ—us Years like Days to pass Yet makes us younger still become By this from lab'ring Thoughts are chas't The Sorrows of those ills are past And terrour of the ills to come V. Let us Drink brimmers then Time's fleet And steals away with winged Feet Halling us with him to our Urn In vain we sue to it to stay For Years like Rivers slide away And never never do return VI. When the Spring comes attir'd in Green Then Winter flies and is not seen New Tides do still supply the Main But when our frolick Youth 's once gone And Age has ta'ne Possession Time ne're restores us that again VII Death's Laws are universal and In Princes Pallaces command As well as in the Poorest Hut We 're to the Parcae subject all The Threads of Clowns and Monarchs shall Be both by the same Cizoâ—s cut VIII Their rigours which all things deâ—ace Will ravish in a little space Whatever we most lasting make And soon will lead us out to drink Beyond the Pitchy Rivers brink The Waters of oblivious Lake Lyrick Ex Cornelio Gallo LYdia thou lovely Maid whose VVhite The Milk and Lilly does outviâ— The Pale and Blushing Roses light Or polisht Indian Ivory Dishevel sweet thy yellow Hair Whose ray doth burnisht Gold disprize Dissolve thy Neck so brightly fair That doth from Snowy Shoulders rise Virgin unvail those starry Eyes Whose Sable Brows like Arches spread Unvail those Cheeks where the Rose lies Streak'd with the Tyrian Purples Red. Lead me those Lips with Coral lin'd And kisses mild of Doves impart Thou ravishest away my Mind Those gentle kisses steal my Heart Why suck'st thou from my panting Breast The Youthâ—ul vigour of my Blood Hide those â—wine-Apples ripe if prest To spring in to a Milky-flood From thy expanded Bosom breathe Perfumes Arabia doth not know Thy every part doth Love bequeath From thee all excellencies â—low Thy Bosoms killing White then shade Hide that temptation from mine Eye Thou â—eest I languish cruel Maid Wilt thou then go and let me dye De luxu libidine Epig. Tho. Mori LEt who would die to end his Woes Both Wench and Tipple and he goes Id. in Avarum EPIG WIth narrow Soul thou swim'st in glorious Wealth Rich to thy Heir but wretched to thy self Id. in Digamos EPIG WHo having one Wife buried Marries then After one Shipwrack tempts the Sea agen Stances de Monsieur de Scudery I. FAir Nymph by whose perfections mov'd My wounded Heart is turn'd to Flame â—y all admired by all approv'd â—â—dure at least to be belov'd Although you will not Love again II. Aminta as Unkind as Fair What is there that you ought to fear â—or cruel if I you declare And that indeed you cruel are Why the reproach may you not hear III. Even reproaches should delight If Friendship for me you have none And if no anger I have yet Enough perhaps that may invite Your hatred or compassion IV. When your Disdain is most severe When you most rigorous do prove When frowns of anger most you wear You still more charming do appear And I am more and more in Love. V. Ah! let me Sweet your sight enjoy Though with the forâ—eit of my Life For fall what will I 'de rather dye Beholding you of present Joy Than absent of a lingring Grief VI. 〈◊〉 your Eyes lighten till expiring In flame my Heart a Cinder lye â—â—lling is nobler than retiring 〈◊〉 in the glory of Aspiring 'T is brave to tumble from the Sky VII 〈◊〉 I would any thing imbrace Might serve your anger to appease 〈◊〉 if I may obtain my Grace â—our Steps shall leave no print nor trace I will not with Devotion kiss
VIII Cruel you will have it so No word my passion shall betray 〈◊〉 wounded Heart shall hide its Woe 〈◊〉 if it Sigh those Sighs will blow And tell you what my Tongue would say IX Should yet your rigour higher rise Even those offending Sighs shall cease I will my Pain and Grief disguise But Sweet if you consult mine Eyes Those Eyes will tell you my Distress X. If th' utmost my respect can do Still more your cruelty displease Consult your Face and that will shew What Love is to such Beauty due And to the state of my Disease Epitaph Monsieur Maynard JOhn who below here reposes at leisure By pilf'ring on all hands did rake up a Treasuâ—â—â— Above what he e're could have hop'd for himself 〈◊〉 was Master of much but imparted to no Man 〈◊〉 that had he not had a Wife that was common Ne're any Man living had shar'd of his Wealth On Cation a Dwarf Epig de Monsieur Maynard THe extended wont of Nature As all Mens Judgments will allow Never piss'd so small a Creature Nor such a Mannikin as thou One might conceal thee well enough In the least plet of thy small Ruff Alas thou half a Man art scant Go and shew thy Stature Cation In the gross of some Batallion Most bravely mounted on an Ant. Epig. de Monsieur Maynard ANthony feigns him Sick of late Only to shew how he at home Lies in a Princely Bed of State And in a nobly furnish'd Room Adorn'd with Pictures of Vandike's A pair of Chrystal Candlesticks Rich Carpets Quilts the Devil and all Then you his careful Friends if ever You wish to cure him of his Fever Go lodge him in the Hospital In Coccam Epig. de Monsieur Maynard COcca thou'dst still be lov'd nor wilt abate Our Primitive ardour but with Discontent Altho' thou knowst thy Youth bears the same date With that alas of the Old Testament Thine Eyes no more are Homicides And thy warpt front its furrows hides Under the Paint-house of a Hood Now ply thy Beads thy Name 's renouned Thou the first Baudy-house hast founded Has been erected since the Flood In Coccam Epig. de Monsieur Maynard LOrd how wrinckled is thy Fore-head And how Gray thy Hair is grown Lord how chink't thy Lips and aride And thy whole Frame turn'd Skeleton Truly Cocca I regret thee Sure Old Age did undiscreetly To be with thy Face so bold Henceforth none will pleasure make thee But thou purchase of the Laquey What thou once the Master sold. Epig. de Monsieur Maynard COme let 's Drink and drown all Sorrow 'T is what the Time invites us to And who knows whether to morrow Was ordained for us or no! Death watches us and when that Slave Has once enclos'd us in the Grave And heaps of Mold upon us hurl'd Farewel good Victuals and good Wine I read in no Author of mine Of Taverns in the other World. To Agrippa The Sixth Ode of Horace His First Book of Lyricks VArius in living Annals may To the admiring Universe Voice out in high Maeonian Verse Thy Courage and thy Conquests won And what thy Troops by Land and Sea Have through thy noble conduct done Our Muse Agrippa that does fly An humbler pitch attempts not these T' express Pelides rage nor â—ly Vlysse's tedious Voyages Nor dips her Plume in those Red Tydes Flow from the Bloody Parricides Ofâ— Pelop's cruel Family We nothing to such heights pretend Since Modesty And our weak Muse who does aspire No further than the jolly Lyre Forbids that we Should in our vain attempts offend And darken with our humble laies Thine and great Caesar's Godlike Praise Who to his worth can Mars display When clad in Arms whose dreadful Ray Puts out the Day Or brave Meriones set forth When solyl'd in Trojan Dust or raiseâ— Fit Trophies to Tydides worth Who to th' Immortal Gods was madeâ— A Rival by Minerva's aid We Sing of Feasting and Delights Stout Drinking and the harmless Fights Of hot young Men and blushing Maidâ— Who when the Foe invades Make a faint show To Guard what they 're contenâ— shou'd go These are the Subjects of our Song In Nights that else would seem too long Did we not wisely prove The sweets of Jollity and Love. Epig. de Monsieur Corneille MArtin Pox on him that impudent Devil That now only lives by his Shifts By borrowing of Dribblets and Gifts For a forlorn Guinny I lent him last Day Which I was assured he never would pay On my own Paper would needs be so civil To give me a Note of his Hand But I did the Man so well understand I had no great mind to be doubly trapan'd And therefore told him 't was needless to do 't For â—aid I I shall not be hasty to Dun ye And 't is enough surely to part with my Money Without losing my Paper to boot Epig. de Monsieur Cotin AFter so many Works of various kinds Dawen with so great pains has writ And all the recompence the Poet finds Is but the poor contempt of Wit If Dawen now forbear to write on still 'T is that he weary is of doing ill Epig. de Mons. de Bensaurade HEre lies a great load of extr'ordinary merit Who taught us to know ere he did hence depart That a Man may well live without any Heart And die which is strange without rend'ring his Spirit Madrigal on Queen Dido Translated from Cavalier Guarini and he from Ausonius O Fortunata Dido c. HOw hapless Dido was thy Fate In both conditions of Life To be alike Unfortunate Whether a Mistriss or a Wife Both alike unhappy made thee Or thou thy self unhappy made But thy Lover false betray'd thee And thy Husband was betray'd He one miserably dying Poor Queen thou wast enforc'd to fly And the other fasly flying Thou didst miserably dye Sede d'Amore Madrigal From Cavalier Guarini TEll me Cupid where 's thy Nest In Clora's Eyes or in my Breast When I do behold her Rays I conclude it in her Face But when I consider how They both wound and burn me too I conclude then by my smart Thou inhabits in my Heart Mighty Love to shew thy Power Though it be but for an Hour Let me beg without Offence Thou wilt shift thy Residence And erect thy self a Nest In my Eyes and in her Breast Foco di sdegno From Cavalier Guarini Madrigal FAir and Ealse I burn 't is true But by Love am no ways moved Since your Falshood renders you So unfit to be beloved Tigress then that you no more May triumph it in my smart It is fit you know before That I now have cur'd my Heart Henceforth then if I do Mourn And that still I live in pain With another flame I burn Not with Love but with Disdain Risposta del Tasto BUrn or Freeze at thine own pleasure Thou art free to Love or no T is as little loss as treasure Whether thou be'st Friend or Foe Lover False and Unadvised Who to
637. Foco di Sdegno from Guarini 638. Risposta del Tasto 639. Winter 640. An Elegy on the Lord Hastings 655. The Battail of Yvry 657. POEMS On several Occasions To Coelia ODE I. GIve me my heart again fair Treachery You ravish'd from me with a smile Oh! let it in some nobler quarrel die Than a poor Trophy of your guile And Faith bright Coelia tell me what should you Who are all Falshood doe with one so true II. Or lend me yours awhile instead of it That I in time my skill may try Though ill I know it will my bosom fit To teach it some Fidelity Or that it else may teach me to begin To be to you what you to me have been III. False and imperious Coelia cease to be Proud of a Conquest is your shame You triumph o'er an humble Enemy Not one you fairly overcame Your eyes alone might have subdu'd my heart Without the poor confed'racy of Art. IV. But to the pow'r of Beauty you must add The Witchcraft of a sigh and tear I did admire before but yet was made By those to love they fix'd me there I else as other transient Lovers doe Had twenty lov'd e'er this as well as you V. And twenty more I did intend to love E'er twenty weeks are past and gone And at a rate so modish as shall prove My heart a very civil one But oh false fair I thus resolve in vain Unless you give me back my heart again The Expostulation I. HAve I lov'd my Fair so long Six Olympiads at least And to Youth and Beauties wrong On Vertues single Interest To be at last with ceorn oppress'd II. Have I lov'd that space so true Without looking once awry Lest I might prove false to you To whom I vow'd Fidelity To be repay'd with Cruelty III. Was you not oh sweet confess Willing to be so belov'd Favour gave my Flame encrease By which it still aspiring mov'd And had gone out if disapprov'd IV. Whence then can this change proceed Say or whither does it tend That false heart will one day bleed When it has brought so true a Friend To cruel and untimely end Sonnet WHat have I left to doe but dye Since Hope my old Companion That train'd me from my Infancy My Friend my Comforter is gone Oh fawning false deceiving Friend Accursed be thy Flatteries Which treacherously did intend I should be wretched to be wise And so I am for being taught To know thy guiles have only wrought My greater misery and pain My misery is yet so great That though I have found out the Cheat I wish for thee again in vain The Tempest I. STanding upon the margent of the Main Whilst the high boiling Tide came tumbling in I felt my fluctuating thoughts maintain As great an Ocean and as rude within As full of Waves of Depths and broken Grounds As that which daily laves her chalky bounds II. Soon could my sad Imagination find A Parallel to this half World of Floud An Ocean by my walls of Earth confin'd And Rivers in the Chanels of my Bloud Discovering man unhappy man to be Of this great Frame Heaven's Epitome III. There pregnant Argosies with full Sails ride To shoot the Gulphs of Sorrow and Despair Of which the Love no Pilot has to guide But to her Sea-born Mother steers by Pray'r When oh the Hope her Anchor lost undone Rolls at the mercy of the Regent Moon IV. 'T is my ador'd Diana then must be The Guid'ress to this beaten Bark of mine 'T is she must calm and smooth this troubled Sea And waft my hope over the vaulting Brine Call home thy venture Dian then at last And be as merciful as thou art chaste To Coelia ODE I. WHen Coelia must my old day set And my young morning rise In beams of joy so bright as yet Ne'er bless'd a Lovers eye My State is more advanc'd than when I first attempted thee I su'd to be a Servant then But now to be made Free. II. I 've serv'd my time Faithfull and True Expecting to be plac'd In happy Freedom as my due To all the Joys thou hast Ill Husbandry in Love is such A Scandal to Love's pow'r We ought not to mispend so much As one poor short-liv'd hour III. Yet think not Sweet I 'm weary grown That I pretend such haste Since none to surfeit e'er was known Before he had a taste My Infant Love could humbly wait When young it scarce knew how To plead but grown to Man's estate He is impatient now The Picture I. HOw Chloris can I e'er believe The Vows of Women kind Since yours I faithless find So faithless that you can refuse To him your shadow that to chuse You swore you could the substance give II. Is' t not enough that I must go Into another Clime Where Feather-footed Time May turn my Hopes into Despair My youthful Dawn to bristled Hair But that you add this torment too III. Perchance you fear Idolatry Would make the Image prove A Woman fit for love Or give it such a soul as shone Through fond Pigmalion's living stone That so I might abandon thee IV. O no! 't would fill my Genius room My honest one that when Frailty would love agen And failing with new objects burn Then Sweetest would thy Picture turn My wandring eyes to thee at home Elegy GOds are you just and can it be You should deal man his misery With such a liberal hand yet spare So meanly when his Joys you share Durst timorous Mortality Demand of this the reason why The Argument of all our Ills Would end in this that 't is your Wills. Be it so then and since 't is fit We to your harsh Decrees submit Farewell all durable content Nothing but woe is permanent How strangely in a little space Is my State chang'd from what it was When my Clorinda with her Rays Illustrated this happy place When she was here was here alass How sadly sounds that when she was That Monarch rul'd not under sky Who was so great a Prince as I And if who boasts most Treasure be The greatest Monarch I was he As seiz'd of her who from her Birth Has been the Treasure of the Earth But she is gone and I no more That mighty Sovereign but as poor Since stript of that my glorious trust As he who grovels in the dust Now I could quarrel Heav'n and be Ring-leader to a Mutiny Like that of the Gygantick Wars And hector my malignant Stars Or in a tamer method sit Sighing as though my heart would split With looks dejected armes across Mourning and weeping for a loss My sweet if kind as heretofore Can in two short-liv'd hours restore Some God then sure you are not all Deaf to poor Lovers when they call Commiserating my sad smart Touch fair Clorinda's noble heart To pitty a poor suâ—â—erer Disdains to sigh unless for her Some friendly Deity possess Her generous Breast with my distress Oh! tell her how I sigh away
The tedious hours of the day Hating all light that does not rise From the gay Morning of her eyes Tell her that Friends which were to be Welcome to men in misery To me I know not how of late Are grown to be importunate My Books which once were wont to be My best beloved Company Are save a Prayer-book for Form Left to the Canker or the Worm My Study's Grief my Pleasure Care My Joys are Woe my Hope Despair Fears are my Drink deep Sighs my Food And my Companions Solitude Night too which Heav'n ordain'd to be Man's chiefest Friend 's my Enemy When she her Sable Curtain spreads The whole Creation make their beds And every thing on Earth is bless'd With gentle and refreshing Rest But wretched I more pensive made By the addition of that shade Am left alone with sorrow roar The grief I did but sigh before And tears which check'd by shame and light Do only drop by day by night No longer aw'd by nice respects Gush out in Flouds and Cataracts Ill life ah Love why is it so To me is measur'd out by woe Whilst she who is that life 's great light Conceals her Glories from my â—ight Say fair Clorinda why should he Who is thy Vertue 's Creature be More wretched than the rest of men Who love and are belov'd agen I know my passion not desert Has giv'n me int'rest in a heart Truer than ever Man possess'd And in that knowledge I am bless'd Yet even thence proceeds my care That makes your absence hard to bear For were you cruel I should be Glad to avoid your cruelty But happy in an equal flame I Sweetest thus impatient am Then since your presence can restore My heart the joy it had before Since lib'ral Heaven never gave To Woman such a pow'r to save Practise that Sovereign pow'r on one Must live or dye for you alone Taking leave of Chloris I. SHE sighs as if she would restore The life she took away before As if she did recant my doom And sweetly would reprieve me home Such hope to one condemn'd appears From every whisper that he hears But what do such vain hopes avail If those sweet sighs compose a gale To drive me hence and swell my sail II. See see she weeps Who would not swear That love descended in that tear Boasting him of his wounded prize Thus in the bleeding of her eyes Or that those tears with just pretence Would quench the fire that came from thence But oh they are which strikes me dead Chrystal her frozen heart has bred Neither in love nor pitty shed III. Thus of my merit jealous grown My happiness I dare not own But wretchedly her favours wear Blind to my self unjust to her Whose sighs and tears at least discover She pitties if not loves her Lover And more betrays the Tyrant's skill Than any blemish in her will That thus laments whom she doth kill IV. Pitty still Sweet my dying state My flame may sure pretend to that Since it was only unto thee I gave my life and liberty Howe'er my life's misfortune 's laid By love I 'm pitty's object made Pitty me then and if thou hear I 'm dead drop such another tear And I am paid my full arrear Song I. FIe pretty Doris weep no more Damon is doubtless safe on shoar Despight of wind and wave The life is Fate-free that you cherish And 't is unlike he now should perish You once thought fit to save II. Dry Sweet at last those twins of light Which whilst ecclips'd with us 't is night And all of us are blind The tears that you so freely shed Are both too pretious for the Dead And for the Quick too kind III. Fie pretty Doris sigh no more The Gods your Damon will restore From Rocks and Quick-sands free Your wishes will secure his way And doubtless he for whom you pray May laugh at Destiny IV. Still then those Tempests of your breast And set that pretty heart at rest The man will soon return Those sighs for Heav'n are only fit Arabian Gums are not so sweet Nor Off'rings when they burn V. On him you lavish grief in vain Can't be lamented nor complain Whilst you continue true That man's disaster is above And needs no pitty that does love And is belov'd by you Resolution in four Sonnets of a Poetical Question put to me by a Friend concerning four Rural Sisters Sonnet I. ALice is tall and upright as a Pine White as blaunch'd Almonds or the falling Snow Sweet as are Damask Roses when they blow And doubtless fruitful as the swelling Vine Ripe to be cut and ready to be press'd Her full cheek'd beauties very well appear And a year's fruit she loses e'ery year Wanting a man t' improve her to the best Full fain she would be husbanded and yet Alass she cannot a fit Lab'rer get To cultivate her to her own content Fain would she be God wot about her task And yet forsooth she is too proud to ask And which is worse too modest to consent Sonnet II. MArg'ret of humbler stature by the head Is as it oft falls out with yellow hair Than her fair Sister yet so much more fair As her pure white is better mixt with red This hotter than the other ten to one Longs to be put unto her Mothers trade And loud proclaims she lives too long a Maid Wishing for one t' untie her Virgin Zone She finds Virginity a kind of ware That 's very very troublesome to bear And being gone she thinks will ne'er be mist And yet withall the Girl has so much grace To call for help I know she wants the face Though ask'd I know not how she would resist Sonnet III. MAry is black and taller than the last Yet equal in perfection and desire To the one's melting snow and t'other's fire As with whose black their fairness is defac'd She pants as much for love as th' other two But she so vertuous is or else so wise That she will win or will not love a prize And but upon good terms will never doe Therefore who her will conquer ought to be At least as full of love and wit as she Or he shall ne'er gain favour at her hands Nay though he have a pretty store of brains Shall only have his labour for his pains Unless he offer more than she demands Sonnet IV. MArtha is not so tall nor yet so fair As any of the other lovely three Her chiefest Grace is poor simplicity Yet were the rest away she were a Star. She 's fair enough only she wants the art To set her Beauties off as they can doe And that 's the cause she ne'er heard any woo Nor ever yet made conquest of a heart And yet her bloud 's as boiling as the best Which pretty soul does so disturb her rest And makes her languish so she 's fit to die Poor thing I doubt she still must lie alone For being like to be attack'd by none
you here example Where though I am believ'd by scarce one None will I hope suspect the Person Who from Lies he far remote is Will give in verbo sacerdotis One going to discharge at will-Duck Had for his recompence the ill luck Or my Informer's an Impostor To be in that presenting posture Surpriz'd with his left eye fast winking Till by good fires and hot things drinking He thaw'd to the beholders laughter Unto it self a few hours after Two Towns that long that war had waged Being at Foot-ball now engaged For honour as both sides pretended Left the brave tryall to be ended Till the next Thaw for they were frozen On either part at least a dozen With a good handsome space between 'em Like Rolle-rich stones if you 've seen 'em And could no more run kick or trip ye Than I can quaff off Aganippe Till Ale which crowns all such pretences Mull'd them again into their senses A Maid compell'd to be a gadder T' abate th'extension of her Bladder Which is an importuning matter Was so supported by her water To ease her knees with a third Pillar That as she sate the poor distiller Look'd on the tripod like the famous Astrologer hight Nostradamus These stories sound so very odly That though men may be pretty godly One should though store of Mustard give 'em E'er they expect they should believe ' em But to allure your Faith a little What follows true is to a tittle Our Countrey Air was in plain dealing Some weaks together so congealing That if as men are rude in this age One spit had in another's visage The Constable by th' back had got him For he infallibly had shot him Nay Friend with Friend Brother with Brother Must needs have wounded one another With kindest words were they not wary To make their greetings sideways carry For all the words that came from gullets If long were slugs if short ones Bullets You might have read from mouths sans Fable Your humble Servant Sir in Label Like those yet theirs were warmer Quarters We see in Foxe's Book of Martyrs Eyes that were weak and apt to water Wore Spectacles of their own matter And Noses that to drop were ceased To such a longitude encreased That who e'er wrung for ease or losses Snap'd off two handfulls of Proboscis Beards were the strangest things God save us Such as Dame Nature never gave us So wild so pointed and so staring That I should wrong them by comparing Hedg-hogs or Porcupine's small Taggers To their more dang'rous Swords and Daggâ—rs Mustachio's look'd like Hero's Trophieâ— Behind their Arms i' th' Herald's Office The perpendicular Beard appear'd Like Hop-poles in a Hop-yard rear'd 'Twixt these the underwoody Acres Look'd just like Bavius at a Baker's To heat the Oven mouth most ready Which seem'd to gape for heat already In mouths with salivation flowing The horrid hairs about 'em growing Like Reeds look'd in confused order Growing about a Fish-pond's border But â—tay my self I caught have tripping This Frost is perillous for slipping I 've brought this stupifying weather These Elements too near together The bearded therefore look'd as Nature Instead of forming humane Creature So many Garrisons had made us Our Beards t' our Sconces Pallisadoes Perukes now stuck so firm and stedfast They all were riveted to headfast Men that bought Wiggs to goe a wooing Had them made natural now and growing But let them have a care for truly The hair will fall 'twixt this and Iuly The tender Ladies and the Lasses Were vitrifi'd to drinking-Glasses Contriv'd to such an admiration After so odd fantastick fashion One scarce knew at which end to guzzle The upper or the lower muzzle The Earth to that degree was crusted That let me never more be trusted I speak without Poetick Figure If I don't think a lump no bigger Than a good Wall-nut had it hit one Would as infallibly have split one As Cannon-shot that killing's sure at Had not both been alike obdurate The very Rocks which in all reason Should stoutli'st have withstood the season Repetrisi'd with harder matter Had no more privilege than water Had Pegasus struck such a Mountain It would have fail'd him for a Fountain 'T was well Pernassus when he started Prov'd to his hoof more tender-hearted Or else of Greece the sullen Bulley And Trojan Hector had been dully In thread-bare Prose alas related Which now in Song are celebrated For steed Poetick ne'er had whinny'd Greek Iliad or Latin Aeneid Nor Nero writ his ribble rabbles Of sad Complaints Love and strange Fables Then too Anacreon and Flaccus Had ne'er made Odes in praise of Bacchus And taught blind Harpers for their bread sneak From Feast to Feast to make Cats dead squeak Nor Martial giv'n so great offences With Epigrams of double Senses Rhime then had ne'er been scan'd on Fingers No Ballad-makers then or Singers Had e'er been heard to twang out Meetre Musick than which back droans make sweeter Of Poetry that writing mystick There had not extant been one Dystich And which is worst the noblest sort on 't And to the World the most important Of th' whole Poetical Creation Burlesque had never been in fashion But how have I this while forgot so My Mistress Dove who went to pot too My white Dove that was smoaking ever In spight of Winter's worst endeavour And still could so evade or fly him As never to be pinnion'd by him Now numb'd with bitterness of weather Had not the pow'r to stir a Feather Wherein the Nymph was to be pitti'd But flag'd her wings and so submitted The Russian bound though knowing's betters Her Silver feet in Chrystal Fetters In which Estate we saw poor Dove lye Even in Captivity more lovely But in the fate of this bright Princess Reason it self you know convinces That her pinniferous fry must die all Imprison'd in the Chrystal Vial And doubtless there was great Mortality Of Trout and Grailing of great Quality Whom Love and Honour did importune To stick to her in her misfortune Though we shall find no doubt good Dishes Next Summer of Plebean Fishes Or if with greater art and trouble An old Patrician Trout we bubble In better Liquor swim we 'll make him By odds than that from whence we take him Now though I have in stuff confounded Of small truths and great lies compounded Giv'n an account that we in England May for cold weather vie with Green-land I han't yet the main reason given Why I so very long have driven My answer to the last you sent me Which did so highly complement me Know therefore that both Ink and Cotten So desperately hard were gotten It was impossible by squeezing To get out either truth or leasing My Fingers too no more being jointed My Love and Manners disappointed Nay I was numb'd on that strange fashion I could not sign an Obligation Though Heaven such a Friend ne'er sent me Would one a thousand pounds have lent me On my own Bond and who
'T would grate my Soul to see those Charms In an unworthy Sheepherd's Armes A little coldness Girl will doe Let baffled Lovers call it Pride Pride 's an excess o' th' better side Contempt to arrogance is due Keep but state now and keep 't hereafter too Epistle to John Bradshaw Esq II. SIR you may please to call to mind That Letters you did lately find From me which I conceiv'd were very kind So hearty kind that by this hand Sir Briefly I doe not understand Sir Why you should not vouchsafe some kind of answer What though in Rhime y' are no proficient Your Love should not have been deficient When down-right Prose to me had been sufficient 'T is true I know that you dare fight Sir But what of that that will not fright Sir I know full well your Worship too can write Sir. Where the Peace therefore broken once is Unless you send some fair Rosponses I doubt there will ensue some broken Sconces Then dream not valour can befriend you For if I justly once suspend you Your Sanct'ary nor your Club can yet defend you But fairly Sir to work to goe What the Fiend is the matter trow Should make you use an old Companion so I know the life you lead a-days And like poor Swan your foot can trace From home to Pray'rs thence to the forenam'd * Viz. â—he Sanctâ—ary place And can you not from your Precation And your as daily Club-Potation To think of an old Friend find some vacation 'T is true you sent a little Letter With a great Present which was better For which I must remain your humble Debtor But for th'Epistle to be plain That 's paid with Int'rest back again For I sent one as long at least as twain Then mine was Rhime and yours but Reason If therefore you intend t' appease one Let me hear from you in some mod'rate season 'T is what y' are bound to by the tie Of Friendship first then Equity To which Iâ—ll add a third call'd Charity For one that 's banish'd the Grand Mond Would sometimes by his Friends be own'd 'T is comfort after whipping to be moan'd But though I 'm damn'd t' a People here Than whom my Dog 's much civiller I hear from you some twice or thrice a year Saints that above are plac'd in Glory Unless the Papists tell a Story Commiserate poor Souls in Purgatory Whilst you Sir Captain Heav'n remit ye Who live in Heav'n on Earth the City On me who live in Hell can have no pity In faith it looks unkind pray mend it Write the least Scrip you will and send it And I will bless and kiss the hand that pen'd it Epistle to Iohn Bradshaw Esq III. WHat though I writ a tedious Letter Whereas a shorter had been better And that 't was writ in Moor-lands Metre To make it run I thought the sweeter Yet there was nought in that Epistle At which your Worship ought to bristle For though it was too long 't was civil And though the Rhime 't is true was evil I will maintain 't was well meant yet And full of heart though void of wit Why with a Horse-Pox then should you I thought my Friend keep such adoe And set Tom Weaver on my back Because I ha'n't forsooth the knack To please your over-dainty ear Impossible for me I fear Nor can my Poesy strew with Posies Of Red White Damask Provense Roses Bears-ears Anemonies and Lillies As he did in Diebus illis What man all Amblers are not Couryats Neither can all who Rhime be Laureats Besides the Moor-lands not a Clime is Nor of the year it now the time is To gather Flowers I suppose Either for Poetry or Prose Therefore kind Sir in courteous fashion I wish you spare your expectation And since you may be thin of clothing Something being better too than nothing Winter now growing something rough I send you here a piece of Stuff Since your old Weaver's dead and gone To make a Fustian Wastcoat * For Rhimes take a new Figure on Accept it and I 'll rest your Debtor When more Wit sends it I 'll send better And here I cannot pretermit To that Epitome of Wit Knowledge and Art to him whom we Saucily call and I more saucily â—resume to write the little d. All that your Language can improve Of Service Honour and of Love After whose Name the rest I know Would sound so very flat and low They must excuse if in this case 〈◊〉 wind them up Et Caetera's Lastly that in my tedious Scribble I may not seem incorrigible I will conclude by telling you And on my honest word 't is true I long as much as new made Bride Does for the Marriage Even Tide Your plump Corpusculum t' imbrace In this abominable place And therefore when the Spring appears Till when short days will seem long years And that under this scurvy hand I give you Sir to understand In April May or then abouts Doves People are your humble Trouts Be sure you do not fail but come To make the Peak Elizium Where you shall find then and for ever As true a * Though not 〈◊〉 so good a Poet. Friend as was Tom Weaver The Retirement Stanzes Irreguliers To Mr. Isaak Walton I. FArewell thou busie World and may We never meet again Here I can eat and sleep and pray And doe more good in one â—hort day Than he who his whole Age out-wears Upon thy most conspicuous Theatres Where nought but Vice and Vanity do reign II. Good God! how sweet are all things here How beautifull the Fields appear How cleanly do we feed and lie Lord what good hours do we keep How quietly we sleep What Peace what Unanimity How innocent from the leud Fashion Is all our bus'ness all our Conversation III. Oh how happy here 's our leisure Oh how innocent our pleasure Oh ye Vallies oh ye Mountains Oh ye Groves and Chrystall Fountains How I love at liberty By turn to come and visit ye IV. O Solitude the Soul 's best Friend That man acquainted with himself dost make And all his Maker's Wonders to intend With thee I here converse at will And would be glad to do so still For it is thou alone that keep'st the Soul awake V. How calm and quiet a delight It is alone To read and meditate and write By none offended nor offending none To walk ride sit or sleep at one's own ease And pleasing a man's self none other to displease VI. Oh my beloved Nymph fair Dove Princess of Rivers how I love Upon thy flow'ry Banks to lie And view thy Silver stream When gilded by a Summer's Beam And in it all thy wanton Fry Playing at liberty And with my Angle upon them The All of Treachery I ever learn'd to practise and to try VII Such streams Rome's yellow Tiber cannot show Th' Iberian Tagus nor Ligurian Po The Meuse the Danube and the Rhine Are puddle-water all compar'd with thine And Loire's
pure streams yet too polluted are With thine much purer to compare The rapid Garonne and the winding Seine Are both too mean Beloved Dove with thee To vie Priority Nay Tame and Isis when conjoyn'd submit And lay their Trophies at thy Silver Feet VIII Oh my beloved Rocks that rise To awe the Earth and brave the Skies From some aspiring Mountain's crown How dearly do I love Giddy with pleasure to look down And from the Vales to view the noble heights above IX Oh my beloved Caves from Dog-star heats And hotter Persecution safe Retreats What safety privacy what true delight In the artificial Night Your gloomy entrails make Have I taken do I take How oft when grief has made me fly To hide me from Society Even of my dearest Friends have I In your recesses friendly shade All my sorrows open laid And most secret woes entrusted to your privacy X. Lord would men let me alone What an over-happy one Should I think my self to be Might I in this desart place Which most men by their voice disgrace Live but undisturb'd and free Here in this despis'd recess Would I maugre Winter's cold And the Summer's worst excess Try to live out to sixty full years old And all the while Without an envious eye On any thriving under Fortune's smile Contented live and then contented die Rondeau THou Fool if madness be so rife That spight of wit thou 'lt have a Wife I 'll tell thee what thou must expect After the Honey-Moon neglect All the sad days of thy whole Life To that a World of Woe and Strife Which is of Marriage the effect And thou thy woe 's own Architect Thou Fool Thou 'lt nothing find but disrespect Ill words i' th' scolding Dialect For she 'll all Tabor be or Fife Then prythee go and whet thy Knife And from this Fate thy self protect Thou Fool To Cupid I. FOnd Love deliver up thy Bow I am become more Love than thou I am as wanton grown and wild Much less a Man and more a Child From Venus born of chaster kind A better Archer though as blind II. Surrender without more adoe I am both King and Subject too I will command but must obey I am the Hunter and the Prey 〈◊〉 vanquish yet am overcome And Sentencing receive my Doom III. No springing Beauty scapes my Dart And ev'ry ripe one wounds my Heart Thus whilst I wound I wounded am And firing others turn to flame To shew how far Love can combine The Mortal part with the Divine IV. Faith quit thine Empire and come down That thou and I may share the Crown I 've tri'd the worst thy Arms can doe Come then and taste my power too Which howsoe'er it may fall short Will doubtless prove the better sport V. Yet do not for in Field and Town The Females are so loving grown So kind or else so lustfull we Can neither err though neither see Keep then thine own Dominions Lad Two Loves would make all Women mad To Aelia ODE POOR antiquated Slut forbear Thy Importunity's so strong â—t will I fear corrupt the Air And doe an universal wrong Be modest or I swear and vow I neither can nor will be kind Pox on 't now thou dost clam'rous grow There 's no enduring in the wind Whilst silence did thy thoughts betray I only was the sufferer But now thy Lungs begin to play All the whole Province suffers here Faith Aelia if thou be'st so hot That nor Satiety nor Age Can cool the over-boiling Pot Nor thy edullient Lust assuage Yet be so charitably kind Though damn'd thou art resolv'd to be As not to poyson all Mankind By fulsome importunity But sure 't is time we should give o'er And if I mourn my time mispent How much for fifty years of Whore Ought'st thou poor Aeliâ— to repent Yet if in spight of all advice Thou needs wilt importune me still I am not so reclaim'd from Vice But I can satisfie thy will And 't will to my advantage be For should I new amours begin Delight might damn me when with thee The penance expiates the sin Sonnet GOE false one now I see the cheat Your love was all a Counterfeit And I was gall'd to think that you Or any she could long be true How could you once so kind appear To kiss to sigh and shed a tear To cherish and caress me so And now not let but bid me go Oh Woman Frailty is thy name Since she 's untrue y' are all to blame And but in man no truth is sound 'T is a fair Sex we all must love it But on my conscience could we prove it They all are false ev'n under ground Stanzes de Monsieur Bertaud I. WHilst wishing Heaven in his ire Would punish with some judgment dire This heart to love so obstinate â—o say I love her is to lie Though I do love t'extremity Since thus to love her is to hate II. â—ut since from this my hatred springs â—hat she neglects my Sufferings And is unto my love ingrate â—y hatred is so full of â—lame â—ince from affection first it came That 't is to love her thus to hate III. I wish that milder Love or Death That ends our Miseries with our breath Would my affections terminate For to my Soul depriv'd of peace It is a torment worse than these Thus wretchedly to love and hate IV. Let Love be gentle or severe It is in vain to hope or fear His grace or rage in this estate Being I from my fair one's Spirit Nor mutual love nor hatred merit Thus foolishly to love and hate V. â—r if by my example here 〈◊〉 just and equal do appear She love and loath who is my fate â—rant me ye powers in this case â—oth for my punishment and grace That as I do she love and hate The eighth Psalm paraphrased â— O Lord our Governour whose potent sway All Pow'rs in Heav'n and Earth obey â—hroughout the spacious Earth's extended frame How great is thy adored Name â—hy Glories thou hast seated Lord on high Above the Empirean Sky 2. Out of the mouths of Infants newly come From the dark Closet of the Womb Thou hast ordained pow'rfull Truth to rise To baffle all thine Enemies That thou the furious Rage might'st calm agen Of bloudy and revengefull men 3. When on thy Glorious Heav'ns I reflect Thy work almighty Architect The changing Moon and Stars that thou hast madâ— T' illuminate night's sable shade 4. Oh! what is man think I that Heaven's King Should mind so poor a wretched thing Or Man's â—rail Off-spring that Almighty God Should stoop to visit his abode 5. For thou createdst him but one degree Below the Heav'nly Hierarchy Of bless'd and happy Angels and didst crown Frail Dust with Glory and Renown 6. Over the works of thy Almighty hand Thou giv'st him absolute command And all the rest that thou hast made Under his feet hast subject laid 7. All Sheep and Oxen and the wilder breed Of Beasts
flat And make her squeeze to death her dying fraight Sometimes she on a Mountain's ridge would ride And from that height her gliding Keel then slide Into a Gulf yawning and deep as Hell Whilst we were swooning all the while we fell Then by another billow rais'd so high As if the Sea would dart her into th'Sky To be a Pinnace to the Argosie Then down a precipice so low and steep As it had been the bottom of the Deep Thus whilst we up and down and to and fro Were misâ—â—ably toss'd and bandi'd so 'T was strange our little Pink though ne'er so tight Could weather't so and keep her sâ—lf upright Or was not funk with weight of our despair For Hope alas could find no ank'ring there Her Prow and Poop Star-board and Lar-board side B'ing with these Elements so hotly pli'd 'T was no less than a Miracle her seams Not ripp'd and open'd and her very Beams Continu'd faithfull in these loud extremes That her tall Masts so often bow'd and bent With gust on gust were not already spent That all or any thing indeed withstood A Sea so hollow such a high wrought Floud Here where no Sea-man's Art nor strength avails Where use of Compass Rudder or of Sails There now was none the Mariners all stood Bloudless and cold as we or though they cou'd Something perhaps have help'd in such a stress Were ev'ry one astonish'd ne'ertheless To that degree they either had no heart Their Art to use or had forgot their Art. Meanwhile the miserable Passengers With sighs the hardest the more soft with tears Mercy of Heav'n in various accents crav'd But after drowning hoping to be sav'd How oft by fear of dying did we die And every death a death of cruelty Worse than worst Cruelties provok'd impose On the most hated most offending Foes We fansi'd death riding on every Wave And every hollow seem'd a gaping Grave All things we saw such horrour did present And all of dying too were so intent Ev'ry one thought himself already dead And that for him the tears he saw were shed Such as had not the courage to behold Their danger above deck within the Hosd Utter'd such groans in that their floating Grave As even unto terrour terrour gave Whilst those above pale dead and cold appear Like Ghosts in Charon's Boat that sailing were The last day's dread which none can comprehend But to weak fancy only recommend To form the dreadfull Image from sick fear That fear and fancy both were height'ned here With such a face of horrour as alone Was fit to prompt Imagination Or to create it where there had been none Such as from under Hatches thrust a head T' enquire what news seem'd rising from the dead Whilst those who stai'd above bloudless with fear And gastly look as they new risen were The bold and timorous with like horrour struck Were not to be distinguish'd by their look And he who could the greatest courage boast Howe'er within look'd still as like a Ghost Ten hours in this rude Tempest we were toss'd And ev'ry moment gave our selves for lost Heav'n knows how ill prepar'd for sudden death When the rough winds as they 'd been out of breath Now seem'd to pant and panting to retreat The Waves with gentler force against us beat The Sky clear'd up the Sun again shone bright And gave us once again new life and light We could again bear sail in those rough Seas The Sea-men now resume their offices Hope warm'd us now anew anew the heart Did to our cheeks some streaks of bloud impart And in two hours or very little more We came to Anchor Faulcon-shot from shoar The very same we left the Morn before Where now in a yet working Sea and high Untill the wind shall veere we rolling lie Resting secure from present fear but then The dangers we escap'd must tempt agen Which if again I safely shall get through And sure I know the worst the Sea can doe So soon as I shall touch my native Land â—'ll thence ride Post to kiss your Lordship's hand ODE IS' t come to this that we must part Then Heav'n is turn'd all cruelty And Fate has neither eyes nor heart Or else my Sweet it could not be She 's a blind Deity I 'm sure For woefull sights compassion move And Heav'nly minds could ne'er endure To persecute the truest love Love is the highest attribute Of pow'rs unknown we Mortals know For that all homage we commute From that all good and Mercies flow And can there be a Deity In those eternal seats above Will own so dire a Cruelty As thus to punish faithfull Love Oh Heav'nly Pow'rs be good and just Cherish the Law your selves have made We else in vain in Vertue trust And by Religion are betray'd Oh! punish me some other way For other sins but this is none Take all the rest you gave away But let my dearest Dear alone Strip me as into th' World I came I never shall dispute your will Or strike me dumb deaf blind or lame But let me have Chlorinda still Why was she given me at all I thought indeed the Gift too great For my poor Merit but withall I always knew to value it I first by you was worthy made Next by her choice let me not prove Blasphemous if I 'm not afraid To say most worthy by my love And must I then be damn'd from Bliss For valuing the Blessing more Be wretched made through Happiness And by once being rich more poor This Separation is alass Too great a punishment to bear Oh! take my life or let me pass That liâ—e that happy liâ—e with her O my Chlorinda couldst thou see Into the bottom of my heart There 's such a Mine of Love for thee The Treasure would supply desert Let the King send me where he please Ready at Drum and Trumpet 's call I 'll fight at home or cross the Seas His Soulder but Chlorinda's Thrall No change of Diet or of Air In me can a Distemper breed And if I fall it should be fair Since 't is her bloud that I 'm to bleed And sitting so I nothing fear A noble she of living fame And who shall then be by nay hear In my last groans Chlorinda's Name But I am not proscrib'd to die My Adversaries are too wise More rigour and less Charity Condemns me from Chlorinda's eyes Ah cruel Sentence and severe That is a thousand deaths in one Oh! let me die before I hear â— sound of Separation And yet it is decreed I see The Race of men are now combin'd Though I still keep the Body free To persecute a Loyal mind And that 's the worst that Man can doe To banish me Chlorinda's sight Yet will my heart continue true Maugre their power and their spight Mean while my Exit now draws nigh When Sweet Chlorinda thou shalt see That I have heart enough to die Not half enough to part with thee 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Paraphras'd
thought others offences breed Nothing but true amendment one can cure Thus man who of this world a member is Is by good nature subject made To smart for what his fellows do amiss As he were guilty when he is be is betray'd And mourning for the vices of the Time Suffers unjustly for anothers Crime VIII Go foolish Soul and wash thee white Be troubled for thine own misdeeds That Heav'nly sorrow comfort breeds And true contrition turns delight â—et Princes thy past services forget Let dear-bought Friends thy Foes becom â—hough round with misery thou art beset With Scorn abroad and Poverty at home â—eep yet thy hands but clear and Conscience pure And all the ills thou shalt endure Will on thy Worth such luster set â—s shall out-shine the brightest Coronet â—nd Men at last will be asham'd to see That still For all their malice and malicious skill â—hy mind revive as it was us'd to be â—nd that they have disgrac't themselves to honor thee Hope Pindarick Ode I. HOPE thou darling and delight Of unforeseeing reckless Minds Thou deceiving Parrisite Which no where Entertainment finds But with the wretched or the vain ` T is they alone fond Hope maintain Thou easie Fool 's chief Favorite Thou fawning Slave to slaves that still remains In Galleys Dungeons and in Chains Or with a whining Lover lov'st to play With treach'rous Art Fanâ—ing his Heart A greater Slave by far than they Who in worst Durance wear their Age away Thou whose Ambition mounts no higher Nor does to greater Fame aspire Than to be ever found a lyar Thou treach'rous Fiend deluding Shade Who would with such a Phantom be betray'd By whom the wretched are at last more wretched made II. Yet once I must confess I was Such an overweening Ass As in Fortunes worst distress To believe thy Promises Which so brave a change foretold Such a stream of Happiness Such Mountain hopes of glitt'ring Gold Such Honours Friendships Offices In Love and Arms so great Success That I ev'n hugg'd my self with the conceit Was my self Party in the cheat And in my vâ—ry Bosom laid That fatal Hope by which I was betray'd Thinking my self already rich and great And in that foolish thought despis'd Th' advice of those who out of Love advis'd As I 'de soreseen what they did not foresee A Torrent of Felicity And rudely laught at those who pittying wept for me III. But of this Expectation when 't came to `t What was the fruit In sordid Robes poor Disappointment came Attended by her Handmaids Grief and Shame No Wealth no Titles no Friend could I see For they still court Prosperity Nay what was worst of what Mischance could do My dearest Love forsook me too My pretty Love with whom had she been true Even in Banishment I could have liv'd most happy and content Her sight which nourish't me withdrew I then although too late perceiv'd I was by flattering Hope deceiv'd And call'd for it t' expostulate The Treachery and foul deceit But it was then quite fled away And gone some other to betray Leaving me in a state By much more desolate Than if when first attack't by Faâ—e I had submitted there And made my courage yeild unto despair For Hope like Cordials to our wrong Does but our Miseries prolong Whilst yet our Vitals daily wast And not supporting Life but pain Call their false friendships back again And unto Death grim Death abandon us at last IV. In me false Hope in me alone Thou thine own Treach'ry hast out-done For Chance perhaps may have befriended Some one th' hast labour'd to deceive With what by thee was ne're intended Nor in thy pow'r to give But me thou hast deceiv'd in all as well Possible as impossible And the most sad Example made Of all that ever were betray'd But thou hast taught me Wisdom yet Henceforth to hope no more Than I see reason for A Precept I shall ne're forget Nor is there any thing below Worth a man's wishing or his care When what we wish begets our wo And Hope deceiv'd becomes Despair Then thou seducing Hope farewel No more thou shalt of Sense bereave me No more deceive me I now can countercharm thy Spell And for what 's past so far I will be even Never again to hope for any thing but Heaven Epistle to the Earl of TO write in Verse O Count of mine To you who have the Ladies nine With a wet finger at your call And I believe have kist 'um all Is such an undertaking none But Peakrill bold would venture on Yet having found that to my woes No help will be procur'd by Prose And to write that way is no boot I 'll try if Ryming will not doo 't Know then my Lord that on my word Since my first second and my third Which I have pester'd you withall I 've heard no syllable at all Or where you are or what you do Or if I have a Lord or no. A pretty comfort to a man That studies all the ways he can To keep an Interest he does prize Above all other Treasuries But let that pass you now must know We do on our last Quarter go And that I may go bravely out Am trowling merry Bowl about To Lord and Lady that and this As nothing were at all amiss When after twenty days are past Poor Charles has eat and drunk his last No more Plum-porridge then or Pye No Brawn with Branch of Rosemary No Chine of Beef enough to make The tallest Yeoman's Chine to crack No Bag-pipe humming in the Hall Nor noise of House-keeping at all Nor sign by which it may be said This House was once inhabited â— may perhaps with much ado Rub out a Christmas more or two Or if the Fates be pleas'd a score Bur never look to keep one more Some three Months hence I make account My Spur-gall'd Pegasus to mount When whither I intend to go My Horse as well as I will know But being got with much ado Out of the reach a Stage or two Though not the consciâ—nce of my shame And Pegasus fall'n desp'rate lame I shake my stirrups and forsake â—im Leaving him to the next will take him Not that I set so lightly by him Would any be so kind to buy him But that I think those who have seen How ill my Muse has mounted been Would certainly take better heed Than to bid money for her Steed Being then on fooâ— away I go And bang the hoof incognito Though in condition so forlorn Little Disguise will serve the turn Since best of Friends the World 's so base Scarce know a man when in Disgrace But that 's too serious Then suppose Like trav'ling Tom Coriat with dint of Toes I 'me got unto extreamest shore Sick and impatient to be o're That Channel which secur'd my state Of Peace whilst I was fortunate But in this moment of distress Confines me to unhappiness But where 's the Money to be had This surly Neptune to
perswade It is no less than shillings ten Gods will be brib'd as well as men Imagine then your High-lander Over a Cann of muddy Beer Playing at Passage with a pair Of drunken Fumblers for his Fare And see I 've won oh lucky chance Hoist Sail amain my Mates for France Forâ—une was civil in this throw And having rob'd me le ts me go I 've won and yet how could I choose He needs must win that cannot lose Fate send me then a happy wind And better luck to those behind But what advantage will it be That Winds and Tides are kind to me When still the wretched have their woes Wherever they their Feet dispose What satisfaction or delight Are ragousts to an appetite What ease can France or Flanders give To him that is a Fugitive Some two years hence when you come o're In all your State Ambassadour If my ill Nature be so strong T' out-live my Infamy so long You 'l find your little Officer Ragged as his old Colours are And naked as he 's discontent Standing at some poor Sutlers Tent With his Pike cheek't to guard the Tun He must not tast when he has done Hump says my Lord I 'me half afraid My Captain 's turn'd a Reformade That scurvy Face I sure should know Yes faith my Lord 't is even so I am that individual he I told your Lordship how 't would be Thou did'st so Charles it is confest Yet still I thought thou wer 't in jest But comfort Poverty 's no Crime I 'll take thy word another time This matters now are coming to And I 'm resolv'd upon 't whilst you Sleeping in Fortune's Arms near dream Who feels the contrary Extream Faith write to me that I may know Whether you love me still or no Or if you do not by what ways I 've pull'd upon me my disgrace For whilst I still stand fair with you I dare the worst my Fate can do But your opinion long I find I 'm sunk for ever to mankind Beauty PINDARICK ODE In Answer to an Ode of Mr. Abraham Cowley's upon the same Subject I. BEauty thou Master-piece of Heav'ns best skill Who in all shapes and lights art Beauty still And whether black or brown tawny or white Still strik'st with wonder every judging sight Thou tryumph which dost entertain the Eye With Admirations full variety Who though thou variest here and there And trick'st thy self in various colour'd hair And though with several washes Nature has Thought fit thy several Lineaments to grace Yet Beauty still we must acknowledge thee Whatever thy Complexion be II. Beauty Love's Friend who help'st him to a Throne By Wisdom Deify'd to whom alone Thy Excellence is known And ne're neglected but by those have none Thou noble Coyn by no false sleight allay'd By whom we Lovers Militant are paid True to the Touch and ever best When thou art brought unto the Test And who do'st still of higher value prove As deeper thou art search'd by Love. He who allows thee only in the Light Is there mistaken quite For there we only see the outer skin When the Perfection lies within Beauty more revishes the Touch than Sight And seen by Day is still enjoy'd by Night For Beauty's chiefest Parts are never seen III. Beauty thou Active Passive good Who both enflam'st and cool'st our Blood Thou glorious Flow'r whose sov'reign juyce Does wonderful Effects produce Who Scorpion-like do'st with thee bring The Balm that cures thy deadly sting What pity 't is the fairest Plant That ever Heaven made Should ever ever fade Yet Beauty we shall never want For she has off-sets of her own Which e're she dyes will be as fairly blown And though they blossom in variety Yet still new Beauties will descry And here the Fancy's govern'd by the Eye IV. Beauty thy Conquests still are made Over the Vigorous more than the Decay'd And chiefly o're those of the Martial Trade And whom thou conquer'st still thou keep'st in thrall Untill you both together fall Whereas of all the Conquerours how few Know how to keep what they subdue Nay even froward Age subdues thee too Thy Power Beauty has not bounds All sorts of men it equally confounds The young and old does both enslave The proud meek humble and the brave And if it wounds it only is to save V. Beauty thou Sister to Heav'ns glorious Lamp Of â—iner Clay thou finer stamp Thou second Light by which we better live Thou better Sexe's vast prerogative Thou greatest gift that Heaven can give He who against thee does inveigh Never yet knew where Beauty lay And does betray A deplorable want of Sense Blindness or Age or Impotence For Wit was given to no other end But Beauty to admire or to commend And for our Sufferings here below Beauty is all the recompence we know 'T is then for such as cannot see Nor yet have other sence to friend Adored Beauty thus to slander thee And he who calls thee madness let him be By his own doom from Beauty doom'd for me Rondeau FOrbear fair Phillis Oh forbear Those deadly killing frowns and spare A heart so loving and so true By none to be subdu'd but you Who my poor life's sole Princess are You only can create my care But offend you I all things dare Then lest your cruelty you rue Forbear And lest you kill that heart beware To which there is some pitty due If but because I humbly sue Your anger therefore sweetest fair Though mercy in your Sex is rare Forbear Woman Pindarick Ode I. WHat a bold Theam have I in hand What Fury has possest my Muse That could no other subject choose But that which none can understand Woman what Tongue or Pen is able To determine what thou art A thing so moving and unstable So Seaâ—like so investigable That no Land Map nor Sea-man's Chart Though they shew us snowy Mountains Chalky Cliffs and Christal Fountains Sable Thickets golden Groves All that man admires and loves Can direct us to thy heart Which though we seek it night and day Through vast Regions Ages stray And over Seas with Canvas wings make way That Heart the whiles Like to the floating Isles Our Compass evermore beguiles And still still still remains Terra Incognita II. Woman the fairest sweetest Flow'r That in happy Eden grew Whose sweets and graces had the pow'r The World 's sole Monarch to subdue What pity 't is thou wer 't not true But there even there thy frailty brought in sin Sin that has cost so many Sighs and tears Enough to ruin all succeeding Heirs To Beauties Temple let the Devil in And though because there was no more It in one single story did begin Yet from the Seeds shed from that fruitful Core Have sprung up Volumes infinite and great With which th'ore charged world doth sweat Of women false proud cruel insolent And what could else befall Since she her self was President Who was the Mother of them all And who altho' Mankind
too arrogant T' enslave your Beauties and your will And cruelty in you to grant Who saving one must Thousands kill And yet you Women take a pride To see men dye by your disdain But thou wilt weep the Homicide When thou consideâ—'st whom th' ast slain Yet don't for being as I am Thy Creature thou in this estate To Life and Death hast equal claim And may'st kill him thou did'st create Then let me thine own Doom abide Nor once for him o'recast thine eyes Who gloriâ—s that he liv'd and dy'd Thy Lover and thy Sacrifice Sonnet WHY dost thou say thy Heart is gone And no more mine no more thine own But past retrieve for ever wed By sacred Vow t' anothers Bed Why dost thou tell me that I lye Bound in the same perplexed tye And that our now divided Souls Are cold and distant as the Poles Do'st thou not know when first our Loves Were plighted in the secret Groves Our hearts were chang'd with equal Flame Say Chloris then how can it be Could'st thou give me or I give thee No no our selves are still the same Sonnet HOW should'st thou love and not offend Why Cloris I will tell thee how As thou did'st once so love me now And lye with me and there 's an end Thou only art enjoyn'd my Sweet To keep thy Reputation high And that indeed is Secrecy Since all do err though all not see 't Then fairest fearless of all blame That sacred Treasure of thy Name Into my faithful Arms commit Thou once did'st trust me with thy Fame I then was just and true to it And Chloris I am still the same Sonnet CHloris whilst thou and I were free Wedded to nought but Liberty How sweetly happy did we live How free to promise free to give Then Monarch's of our selves we might Love here or there to change delight And ty'd to none with all dispence Paying â—ach Love its recompence But in that happy freedom we Were so improvidently free To give away our liberties And now in fruitful sorrow pine At what we are what might have bin Had thou or I or both been wise Sonnet WHY dost thou say thou lov'st me now And yet proclaim it is too late When bound by folly or by Fate Thou can'st no further grace allow Repeat no more that killing Voice Thou beauteous Victrice of my heart Or find a way to ease my smart Maugre thy now repented choice 'T is not too late to love and do What Love and Nature prompt thee to Whilst thus thou tryumph'st in thy prime Thou may'st discreetly love and use Those Pleasures thou did'st once refuse But to profess it were a Crime Poverty Pindarick Ode I. THou greatest Plague that Mortals know Thou greatest Punishment That Heav'n has sent To quell and humble us below Thou worst of all Diseases and all Pains By so much harder to endure By how much thou art hard to cure Who having rob'd Physitians of their brains As well as of their Gain A Chronical Disease doth still remain What Epithet can fit thee or what words thy ills explain II. This puzzles quite Aesculapian Tribe Who where there are no Fees can have no wit And make them helpless Med'cines still provide Both for the sick and poor alike unfit For inward griefs all that they do prepare Nothing but Crumbs and Fragments are And outwardly apply no more But sordid Rags unto the sore Thus Poverty is drest and Dose't With little Art and little Cost As if poor Rem'dies for the Poor were fit When Poverty in such a place doth sit That 't is the grand Projection only that must conquer it III. Yet Poverty as I do take it Is not so Epidemical As many in the world would make it Who all that want their wishes Poor do call For if who is not with his Divident Amply content Within that acceptation fall Most would be poor and peradventure all This would the wretched with the rich confound But I not call him Poor does not abound But him who snar'd in Bonds and endless strife The Comforts wants more than Supports of Life Him whose whole Age is measur'd out by fears And though he has wherewith to eat His Bread does yet Tast of affliction and his Cares â—is purest Wine mix and allay with Tears IV. 'T is in this sence that I am poor And I 'me afraid shall be so still â—bstrep'rous Creditors besiege my door And my whole House clamorous Eccho's fill From these there can be no Retirement free From Room to Room they hunt and follow me They will not let me eat nor sleep nor pray But persecute me Night and Day Torment my body and my mind Nay if I take my heels and fly They follow me with open Cry At Home no rest Abroad no Refuge can I find V. Thou worst of Ills what have I done That Heav'n should punish me with thee From Insolence Fraud and Oppression I ever have been innocent and free Thou wer 't intended Poverty A scourge for Pride and Avarice I ne're was tainted yet with either Vice I never in prosperity Nor in the height of all my happiness Scorn'd or neglected any in distress My hand my heart my door Were ever open'd to the poor And I to others in their need have granted E're they could ask the thing they wanted Whereas I now although I humbly crave it Do only beg for Peace and cannot have it VI. Give me but that ye bloody Persecutors Who formerly have been my suitors And I 'le surrender all the rest For which you so contest For Heav'ns sake let me but be quiet I 'le not repine at Cloths nor Diet Any habit ne'r so mean Let it be but whole and clean Such as Nakedness will hide Will amply satisfie my pride And for meat Husks and Acorns I will eat And for better never wish But when you will me better treat A Turnip is a Princely dish Since then I thus far am subdu'd And so humbly do submit Faith be no more so monstrous rude But some Repose at least permit Sleep is to Life and Humane Nature due And that alas is all for which I humbly sue Death Pindarick Ode I. AT a Melancholick season As alone I musing sate I fell I know not how to reason With my self of Man's Estate How subject unto Death and Fate Names that Mortals so affright As turns the brightest Day to Night And spoils of Living the Delight With which so soon as Life is tasted Lest we should too happy be Even in our Infancy Our joys are quash't our hopes are blasted For the first thing that we hear Us'd to still us when we cry The Nurse to keep the Child in fear Discreetly tell 's it it must dy Be put into a hole eaten with worms Presenting Death in thousand ugly forms Which tender minds so entertain As ever after to retain By which means we are Cowards bred Nurs't with unnecessary dread â—nd ever dream of dying 'till w' are dead II.
dull became In sovereign Sack thou did'st an Eye-salve seek And stol'st a blest dew from her rosie Cheek When straight thy lids a chearful vigour wore More quick and penetrating than before I saw the sprightly Grape in glory rise And with her Day thy drooping Night surprize So that where now a giddy darkness dwells Brightness now breaks through liquid Spectacles Had Adam known this cure in Paradice He 'd scap'd the Tree and drunk to clear his Eyes The Separation I. I Ghess'd none wretched in his love But who his Mistress's scorn did prove Nor judg'd him happy but whose fire Was paid with mutual desire But sad Experience tells In both extreams there dwells A destiny which so malignant is To make Man wretched in his greatest bliss II. The brightest Beauty I adore That consecrated Earth e're bore The sweetest Person fairest Mind That ever met in Woman-kind And which afflicts me am Met with an equal flame For had she hated me her scorn might have Condemn'd my Infant-love to its blest Grave III. But such 't is nourisht by her grace As Time nor Objects can deface To such a faith as cannot be Compell'd from its Integrity But oh th' unwelcome cause Of superstitious Laws That us from our mutual Embraces tear And separates our bloods because too near Another of the same I. AT what a wild malicious rate Blind cruel Deity Do thy keen Arrows fly Sure th' art not God of Love but Hate Bold Tyrant-Child that can'st endure To make a Wound admits no Cure. II. An Happiness can wait upon Strangers that distant are As North and Southern Star But we though born under one Zone Who in one Root one Cradle lay In Love must be less blest than they III. Ah! that 's the cause why we must run Like streams sprung from one Source Each in a various course The fiction Incest so to shun When better that we mixt it were Than other Rivers ravish't her But I 'll pursue her till our floods agree Alpheus I and Arethâ—sa she On the great Eater of Grays-Inn OH for a lasting wind that I may rail At this vile Cormorant this Harpey-male That can with such an hungry hast devour A years Provision in one short liv'd hour Prodigious Calf of Pharoah's lean-rib'd Kine That swallowest Beef at every bit a Chine Yet art thy self so meagre Men may see Approaching Famine in thy Phys'nomy The World may yet rejoice thou wer 't not one That shar'd Ioves mercy with Deucalion Had he thy grinders trusted in that boat Where the whole Worlds Epitomy did float Clean and Unclean had dy'd th' Earth found a wanâ— Of her irrational Inhabitant 'T is doubted there their fury had not cea'st But of the humane part too made a Feast How Fruitless then had been Heaven's charity No Man on earth had liv'd nor Beast but thee Had'st thou been one to feed upon the fare Stor'd by old Priam for the Grecian War He and his Sons had soon been made a prey Troys ten years Siege had lasted but one day Or thou might'st have preserv'd them and at once Chop 't up Achilles and his Mirmydons Had'st thou been Bell sure thou had'st sav'd the Lives O' th' cheating Priests their Children and their Wiveâ— But at this rate 't would be a heavy tax For Hercules himself to cleanse thy jakes Oh! that kind Heav'n to give to thee would please An Estridge-maw for then we should have peace Swords then or shining Engines would be none No Guns to thunder out Destruction No rugged Shackles would be extant then Nor tedious Grates that limit free-born Men But thy Gut-pregnant womb thy paws do fill With spoils of Natures good and not her ill 'T was th' Inns of Courts improvidence to own Thy Wolvish Carcase for a Son ' o th' Gown The danger of thy jaws they ne're foresaw For Faith I think thou hast devour'd the Law. No wonder th' art complain'd of by the Rout When very Curs begin to smell thee out The reasons Southwark rings with howlings are Because thou rob'st the Bull-Dogs of their share Beastly Consumer not content to eat The wholesome quarters destin'd for Mens meat But Excrement and all nor wilt thou â—ate One entrail to inform us of thy Fate Which will I hope be such an ugly Death As hungry Beggars can in cursings breath But I have done my Muse can scold no more She to the Bearwards Sentence turns thee o're And since so great 's thy Stomach's tyranny For writing this pray God thou eat not me An Epitaph on my Dear Aunt Mrs. Ann Stanhope FOrbear bold Passenger forbear The verge of this sad Sepulchre Put off thy shooes nor dare to tread The Hallowed Earth where she lyes dead For in this Vault the Magazine Of Female virtue 's stor'd and in This Marble Casket is confin'd The Iewel of all Woman-kind For here she lies whose Spring was Crown'd With every grace in Beauty found Whose Summer to that Spring did suit Whose Autumn crackt with happy Fruit. Whose Fall was like her Life so spent Exemplary and Excellent For here the fairest chastest Maid That this Age ever knew is laid The best of Kindred best of Friends of most Faith and of fewest Ends Whose Fame the Tracks of Time survives The best of Mothers best of Wives Lastly which the whole Sum of praise implies Here she who was the best of Women lies SONG Set by Mr. Coleman I. SEE how like Twilight Slumber falls T' obscure the glory of those balls And as she sleeps See how Light creeps Thorow the Chinks and Beautifies The rayie fringe of her fair Eyes II. Observe Loves feuds how fast they fly To every heart from her clos'd Eye What then will she When waking be A glowing Light for all t' admire Such as would set the World on fire III. Then seal her Eye-lids gentle Sleep Whiles cares of her mine open keep Lock up I say Those Doors of Day Which with the Morn for Lustre strive That I may look on her and live An Epitaph on M. H. IN this cold Monument lies one That I know who has lain upon The happier He her Sight would charm And Touch have kept King David warm â—ovely as is the dawning East â—as this Marble's frozen Guest â—s soft and Snowy as that Down â—dorns the Blow-balls frizled Crown â—s straight and slender as the Crest â—r Antlet of the one beam'd Beast 〈◊〉 as th' odorous Month of May â—s glorious and a light as Day Whom I admir'd as soon as knew â—nd now her Memory pursue â—ith such a superstitious Lust â—hat I could fumble with her Dust. She all Perfections had and more â—â—empting as if design'd a Whore 〈◊〉 so she was and since there are 〈◊〉 I could wish them all as fair Pretty she was and young and wise And in her Calling so precise That Industry had made her prove The sucking School-Mistress of Love And Death ambitious to become Her Pupil left his Ghastly home And seeing how we
their Nasty Mess. I could say more the Place provokes me But that the vile Tobacco choaks me Her Name I. TO write your Name upon the Glass Is that the greatest you 'l impart Of your Commands when Dear alas 'T was long since graven in my Heart But you foresee my Heart must break and sure Think 't in that brittle Quarry more secure II. My Breast impregnable is found Which nothing but thy Beauty wracks Than this frail Metal far more sound That every Storm and Tempest crâ—cks And if you add Faith to my Vows and Tears More firm and more transparent it appears III. Yet I obey you when behold I tremble at the forced fact My hand too sawcy and too bold Timorously shivers at the act And 'twixt the wounded glass and th' harder stone I hear a murmuring Emulation IV. 'T is done to which let all hearts bow And to the Tablet sacrifice Incense of loyal Sighs allow And Tears from wonder-strucken Eyes Which should the Schismaticks of Sion see Perchance they 'd break it for Idolatry V. But cursed be that awkward hand Dares raze the glory from this frame That notwithstanding thy Command Tears from this glass thy ador'd Name Whoe're he be unless he do repent He 's damn'd for breaking thy Commandement VI. Yet what thy dear will here has plac't Such is its unassured state Must once my Sweetest be defac't Or by the stroke of Time or Fate It must at last howe're dissolve and die With all the World and so must thou and I. Epitaph On Mr. Robert Port. HEre lies he whom the Tyrants rage Snatch't in a venerable Age And here with him intomb'd do lie Honour and Hospitality SONG Set by Mr. Coleman I. BRing back my Comfort and return For well thou know'st that I In such a vigorous passion burn That missing thee I die Return return insult no more Return return and me restore To those sequestred joyes I had before II. â—bsence in most that quenches Love And cools the warm desire 〈◊〉 ardour of my heat improves And makes the flame aspire 〈◊〉 Opinion therefore I deny 〈◊〉 term it though a Tyranny 〈◊〉 Nurce to Faith and Truth and Constancy III. 〈◊〉 Dear I do not urge thy stay That were to prove unjust 〈◊〉 my desires nor Court delay But ah thy speed I must 〈◊〉 bring me back the stol'n Delight 〈◊〉 from me in thy speedy flight 〈◊〉 my tedious Day my longing Night Sir William Davenant To Mr. Cotton I. UNlucky fire which though from Heaven deriv'â— Is brought too late like Cordials to the Deaâ— When all are of their Sovereign Sence depriv'd And Honour which my rage should warm is fled II. Dead to Heroick Song this Isle appears The Antient Musick of victorious Verse They tast no more than he his Dirges hears Whose useless Mourners sing about his Heâ—se III. Yet shall this sacred Lamp in Prison burn And through the darksome Ages hence invade The wondering World like that in Tully's Urn Which though by Time conceal'd was not decay'â— IV. â—nd Charles in that more civil Century â—hen this shall wholly fill the voice of Fame â—he busie Antiquaries then will try â—o find amongst their Monarchs coin thy Name V. 〈◊〉 they will bless thy Virtue by whose fire 〈◊〉 keep my Laurel warm which else would fade 〈◊〉 thus inclos'd think me of Natures Quire â—hich still sings sweetest in the shade VI. â—o Fame who rules the World I lead thee now â—hose solid Power the thoughtful understand â—hom though too late weak Princes to her bow â—he People serve and Poets can command VII â—nd Fame the only Judge of Empire past â—all to Verona lead thy Fancies Eyes â—here Night so black a Robe on Nature cast 〈◊〉 Nature seem'd affraid of her disguise To Sir William Davenant In Answer to the Seventh Canto of thâ— Third Book of his Gondibert directed tâ— my Father Written by Sir William when Prisoner in the Tower. 1652. I. OH happy Fire whose heat can thus controul The rust of Age and thaw the frost of Death That renders Man immortal as his Soul And swells his Fame with everlasting Breaâ—â— II. Happie 's that Hand that unto Honours Clime Can lift the Subject of his living praise That rescues Frailty from the Sythe of Time And equals glory to the length of days III. Such Sir is yours that uncontroul'd as Fate In the black bosom of o're-shading Night Can Sons of immortality create To dazle Envy with prevailing Light. IV. In vain they strive your glorious Lamp to hide In that dark Lanthorn to all noble minds Which through the smallest cranny is descry'd Whose force united no resistance finds V. Blest is my Father that has found his Name Amongst the Heroes by your Pen reviv'd By running in Time's wheel his thriving Fame Shall still more youthful grow longer liv'd VI. Had Alexander's Trophies thus beeâ— rear'd And in the circle of your Story come The spacious Orb full well he might have spar'd And reap't his distant Victories at home VII Let Men of greater Wealth than Merit cast Medals of Gold for their succeeding part That paper-Monument shall longer last Than all the rubbish of decaying Art. To my Friend Mr. John Anderson From the Countrey I. YOU that the City-Life embrace And in those Tumults run your race Under the th' aspect of the Celestial face Of your bright Lady You that to Masks and Plays resort As if you would rebuild the Court We here can match you with our Countrey-sport As neer as may be II. For though 't is good to be so nigh Rich wine and excellent Company Yet Iohn those Pleasures you full dear do buy Some times and seasons For you but Tributaries are Aw'd by the â—urious men of War We Countrey-Bumkins then are happier far For many reasons III. First we have here no bawling Duns Nor those fierce things ycleped Bums No Cuckold-Constable or Watch here comes To apprehend us And then we 've no unwholsome Daâ—es To broil us in their bawdy flames Nor need enquire after Physicians names That may befriend us IV. And next we have excelling Ale Most high and mighty strong and stale And when we go we need no other Bail Than our own word Sir When you all Day are fain to sit Send Paper-pellets of small wit Your Tickets and when none of them will hit Pawn Cloak or Sword Sir V. Then we out-do your Beauties that You Entertain with Cost and Chat That make you spend your precious Time and Fat And yet are stedfast We here have homely willing Winn With bucksome Bess and granting Iinn All full and plump without and warm within That crackt the Bed fast VI. And then for Mirth we have much more Than you for all your various store For we prefer Bag pipes so loud before Lute or Cremona We caper with Tom Thump i' th' Hall Measures beyond Corant or Brawl And when we want a match for Ciceley call A roba bona VII We have too errant Knights so stout
pride Defended by the friendly shade A woven Grove's dark entrails made Where the cold clay with flowers strew'd Made up a pleasing solitude â—Twas there I did my glorious Nymph surprize There stole my paâ—sion from her killing Eyes II. The happy Object of her Eye Was Sidney's living Arcady Whose amorous tale had so betrai'd Desire in this all-lovely Maid That whilst her Cheek a blush did warm I read Loves story in her form And of the Sisters the united grace Pamela's vigour in Philoclea's Face III. As on the brink this Nymph did sit Ah! who can such a Nymph forget The floods straight dispossest their foam Proud so her mirrour to become And ran into a twirling Maze On her by that delay to gaze And as they past by streams succeeding force In losing her murmur'd t' obey their course IV. She read not long but clos'd the Book And up her silent Lute she took Perchance to charm each wanton thought Youth or her reading had begot The hollow Carcass eccho'd such Airs as had birth from Orpheâ—'s touch And every snowy finger as she plai'd Danc't to the Musick that themselves had made V. At last she ceas'd her odorous Bed With her enticing Limbs she spread With Limbs so excellent I could No more resist my factious blood But there ah there I caught the Dame And boldly urg'd to her my flame I kiss'd when her ripe Lips at every touch Swell'd up to meet what she would shun so much VI. I kiss'd and plai'd in her bright Eyes Discours'd as is the Lovers guise Call'd her the Authress of my woe The Nymph was kind but would not do 〈◊〉 she was kind which made me bold 〈…〉 as her denials cold But ah at last I parted wounded more With her soft pitty than her Eyes before The Visit. I. DArk was the silent shade that hid The fair Castanna from my sight The Night was black as it had need That could obscure so great a light Under the concave of each Lid A flaming ball of beauty bright Wrapt in a charming slumber lay That else would captivate the Day II. Led by a passionate desire I boldly did attempt the way And though my dull Eyes wanted fire My seeing Soul knew where she lay Thus whilst I blindly did aspire Fear to displease her made me stay A doubt too weak for mine intent I knew she would forgive and went. III. Near to her Maiden-Bed I drew Blest in so rare a chance as this When by her odorous Breath I knew I did approach my Love my Bliss Then did I eagerly pursue My hopes and found and stole a kiss Such as perhaps Pygmalion took When cold his Ivory Love forsook IV. Soft was the sleep sate on her Eyes As softest down or whitest Snow So gentle rest upon them lies Happy to charm those Beauties so For which a thousand thousand dies Or living live in restless Woe For all that see her killing Eye With Love or Admiration dye V. Chast were the Thoughts that had the power To make me hazard this Offence I mark'd the sleeps of this fair Flower And found them full of Innocence Wond'ring that hers who slew each hour Should have so undisturb'd a Sence But ah these Murders of Mankind Fly from her Beauty not her Mind VI. Thus while she sweetly slept sate I Contemplating the lovely Maid Of every Tear and every Sigh That sallied from my Breast afraid And now the Morning-star drew nigh When fearing thus to be betray'd I softly from my Nymph did move Wounded with everlasting Love. De Lupo Epigram WHen Lupus has wrought hard all day And the declining Sun By stooping to embrace the Sea Tells him the Day 's nigh done Then to his young Wife home he hies With his sore labour sped Who bids him welcome home and cries Pray Husband come to bed Thanks Wife quoth he but I were blest Would'st thou once call me to my rest On Vpstart UPstart last Term went up to Town There purchas'd Arms and brought them down With Welborne's then he his compares And with a horrid loudness swears That his are best for look quoth he â—ow gloriously mine gilded be Thine's but a Thred-bare Coat he cry'd Compar'd to this who then reply'd If my Coat be Thread-bare or rent or torn There 's cause than thine it has been longer worn Epitaph On Mrs. Mary Draper I. READER if thou cast thine Eye On this weeping Stone below Know that under it doth lye One that never Man did know II. Yet of all Men full well known By those beauties of her Breast For of all she wanted none When Death call'd her to her rest III. Then the Ladies if they would Dye like her kind Reader tell They must strive to be as good Alive or 't is impossible Caelia's Fall. I. CAELIA my fairest Caelia fell Caelia than the fairest fairer Caelia with none I must compare her That all alone is all in all Of what we fair and modest call Caelia white as Alabaster Caelia than Diana chaster This fair fair Caelia greif to tell This fair this modest chast one fell II. My Caelia sweetest Caelia fell As I have seen a Snow-white Dove Decline her Bosom from above And down her spotless body fling Without the motion of the wing Till she arrest her seeming fall Upon some happy Pedestal â—o soft this sweet I love so well â—â—is sweet this Dove-like Caelia fell III. â—â—lia my dearest Caelia fell As I have seen a melting Star Drop down its fire from its Sphear Rescuing so its glorious sight From that paler snuff of light Yet is a Star bright and entire As when 't was wrap't in all that fire â— bright this dear I love so well â—his dear this Star-like Caelia fell IV. And yet my Caelia did not fall As grosser Earthly Mortals do But stoop't like Phaebus to renew Her lustre hy her Morning rise And dart new Beauties in the Skies Like a white Dove she took her flight And like a Star she shot her Light This Dove this Star so lov'd of all My Fair Dear Sweetest did not fall V. But if you 'll say my Caelia fell Of this I 'm sure that like the Dart Of Love it was and on my Heart Poor Heart alas wounded before She needed not have hurt it more So absolute a Conquest she Had gain'd before of it and me That neither of us have been well Before or since my Caelia fell Eclogue Damon C. C. Thyrsis R. R. Dam. THyrsis whilst our Flocks did bite The smiling Salads in our sight Thou then wer 't wont to sing thy state In Love and Chloe celebrate But where are now the Love-sick laies Whilom so sung in Chloe's praise Thyr. ' Las who can sing since our Pan dy'd Each Shepherd's pipe is laid aside Our flocks they feed on parched ground Shelter nor Water 's for them found And all our sports are cast away Save when thou sing'st thy Caelia Dam. Caelia I do confess alone My object is of
ships calk't ribs can quench that heat Nor thy Disdains which colder are Than Climats of the Northern Star Can freeze the Blood warm'd by thine Eye But Sweet I must thy Martyr dye II. 〈◊〉 canst thou know that losing thee â—he Vniverse is dead to me â—â—d I to it yet not become 〈◊〉 kind as to revoke my Doom â—â—â—tle Heart do if I remove â—ow can I hope t' atchieve thy love â—â—ot I shall 't a blessing call 〈◊〉 she who wounds may see my fall III. 〈◊〉 say thou lov'st and bid me go â—here never Sun his Face did show 〈◊〉 to what 's worse want of thy Light â—hich dissipates the shades of Night â—o dangers Death Hell dares not own â—â—â—cely to Apprehension known â—m'd with thy Will despite of Fear â— seek them as if Thou wer 't there IV. 〈◊〉 if thou wilt I dye and that 〈◊〉 worse than thousand deaths thy hate When I am dead if thou but pay My Tomb a Tear and sighing say Thou do'st my timeless fall deplore Wishing th' had'st known my Truth before My Dearest Dear thou mak'st me then Or sleep in peace or live again To my friend Mr. Lely on his Picturâ— of the Excellently Virtuous Lady tâ—â— Lady Isabella Thynn NAture and Art are here at strife This Shadow comes so neer the Life Sit still Dear Lely th' hast done that Thy self must love and wonder at What other Ages â—'er could boast Either remaining yet or lost Are trivial toys and must give place To this that counterfeits her face 〈◊〉 I 'll not say but there have been 〈◊〉 every past Age Paintings seen â—oth Good and Like from every Hand 〈◊〉 once had Maistry and command 〈◊〉 none like her Surely she sate â—â—y Pencil thus to celebrate â—bove all others that could claim 〈◊〉 Eccho from the voice of Fame â—or he that most or with most cause â—eaks or may speak his own applause â—â—n't when he shows his Master-peice 〈◊〉 he e're did a Face like this â—â—his thy chance to be the Man â—one but who shares thy honour can 〈◊〉 such another do arise â—o steal more glory from her Eyes 〈◊〉 't would improvident bounty show â—o hazard such a Beauty so â—â—s strange thy Iudgment did not err 〈◊〉 want a Hand beholding her â—â—ose awing Graces well might make â—â—ssured'st Pencil to mistake To Her and Truth then what a crime To Vs to all the World and Time Who most will want her copy 't were To have it then unlike appear But she 's preserved from that Fate Thou know'st so well to imitate And in that Imitation show What Oyl and Colour mixt can do So well that had this Piece the grace Of motion she and none else has Or if it could the Odour breathe That her departing sighs bequeath And had her warmth it then would be Her glorious Self and none but she So well 't is done But thou canst go No farther than what Art can do And when all 's done this thou hast made Is but a nobler kind of Shade And thou though thou hast play'd thy part A Painter no Creator art To Chloris ODE FArewel My Sweet until I come Improv'd in Merit for thy sake With Characters of Honour home Such as thou canst not then but take To Loyalty my love must bow My Honour too calls to the Field Where for a Ladies busk I now Must keen and sturdy Iron wield Yet when I rush into those Arms Where Death and Danger do combine I shall less subject be to harms Than to those killing Eyes of thine Since I could live in thy Disdain Thou art so far become my Fate That I by nothing can be slain Until thy Sentence speaks my Date But if I seem to fall in War T' excuse the murder you commit Be to my Memory just so far As in thy Heart t' acknowledg it That 's all I ask which thou must give To him that dying takes a pride It is foâ— thee and would not live Sole Prince of all the world beside Taking Leave of Chloris I. SHE sighs as if she would restore The Life shâ— took away before As if she did recant my Doom And sweetly would reprieve me home Such hope to one condemn'd appears From every whisper that he hears But what do such vain hopes avail If those sweet sighs compose a gale To drive me hence and swell my sail II. See see she weeps who would not swear That Love descended in that Tear Boasting him of his wounded prize Thus in the bleeding of her Eyes Or that those Tears with just pretence Would quench the fire that came from thence But oh they are which strikes me dead Christal her frozen Heart has bred Neither in Love nor Pitty shed III. Thus of my merit jealous grown â—â—y happiness I dare not own But wretchedly her favous wear Blind to my self unjust to her Whose sighs and tears at least discover She pitties if not loves her Lover And more betrays the Tyrant's skill Than any blemish in her will That thus laments whom she doth kill IV. Pitty still Sweet my dying state My Flame may sure pretend to that Since it was only unto thee I gave my Life and Liberty Howe're my Life's misfortune 's laid By Love I'm Pitties object made Pitty me then and if thou hear I 'm dead drop such another tear And I am paid my full arrear ODE I. COme let us drink away the time A pox upon this pelting Rhyme When Wine 's run high Wit 's in the prime II. Drink and stout drinkers are true joys Odes Sonnets and such little toys Are exercises fit for Boys III. Then to our Liquor let us sit Wine makes the Soul for Action â—it Who bears most drink has the most wit. IV. The whining Lover that does place His wonder in a painted Face And wasts his substance in the chace V. Could not in Mâ—lancholy pine Had he Affections so divine As once to fall in love with Wine VI. The Gods themselves their revels keep And in pure Nectar tipple deep When slothful Mortals are asleep VII They fudled once for recreation In Water which by all relation Did cause Deucalions Inundation VIII The spangled Globe as it held most Their Bowl was with Salt-water dos't The Sun-burnt Centre was the Toast IX In drink Apollo always chose His darkest Oracles to disclose 'T was Wine gave him his Ruby-Nose X. The Gods then let us imitate Secure of Fortune and of Fate Wine Wit and Courage does create XI Who dares not drink 's a wretched Wight Nor can I think that Man dares fight All day that dares not drink all night XII Fill up the Goblet let it swim In foam that overlooks the brim He that drinks deepest here 's to him XIII Sobriety and Study breeds Suspition of our Thoughts and Deeds The down-right Drunkard no Man heeds XIV Let me have Sack Tobacco store A Drunken Friend a Little Wh re Protector I will ask no more ODE I. THE Day is set did Earth
adorn To drink the brewing of the Main And hot with travel will e're Morn Carouse it to an ebb again Then let us drink Time to improve Secure of Cromwel and his Spies Night will conceal our Healths and Love For all her thousand thousand Eyâ—s Cho Then let us drink secure of spies To Phaebus and his Second rise II. Without the Evening dew and show'rs The Earth would be a barren place Of Trees and Plants of Herbs and Flow'rs To crown her now enamell'd Face Nor can Wit spring or Fancies grow Unless we dew our heads in Wine Plump Autumn's wealthy overflow And sprightly Issue of the Vine Cho Then let us drink secure of spies To Phaebus and his Second rise III. Wine is the cure of Cares and Sloth That rust the Metal of the Mind The Iuice that Man to Man does both In Freedom and in Friendship bind This clears the Monarchs cloudy brows And chears the Hearts of sullen Swains To wearied Souls repose allows And makes Slaves caper in their chains Cho Then let us drink secure of spies To Phaebus and his Second rise IV. Wine that distributes to each part Its heat and Motion is the Spring The Poets Head the Subjects Heart 'T was Wine made old Anacrâ—on sing Then let us quaff it whilst the Night Serves but to hide such guilty Souls As fly the beauty of the Light Or dare not pledge our Loyal Bowls Cho Then let us Revel Quaff and Sing Health and his Scepter to the King. ODE I. FAir Isabel if ought but thee I could or would or like or love If other Beauties but approve To sweeten my Captivity I might those Passions be above Those Pow'rful Passions that combine To make and keep me only thine II. Or if for tempting treasure I Of the World's God prevailing Gold Could see thy Love and my Truth sold A greater nobler Treasury My flame to thee might then grow cold And I like one whose love is sense Exchange thee for convenience III. But when I vow to thee I do Love thee above or Health or Peace Gold Ioy and all such toys as these 'Bove Happiness and Honour too Thou then must know this love can cease Nor change for all the glorious show Wealth and Discretion bribes us to IV. What such a love deserves thou Sweet As knowing best may'st best reward I for thy bounty well prepar'd With open arms my Blessing meet Then do not Dear our joys detard But unto him propitious be That knows no love nor life but thee An Old Man's Gift to a Fair Lady POXo ' your doting Coxcomb was there ever So old a Lover and so young a Giver A pair of Spectacles who the Devil but thee Could have found out such a disparity There were t' oblige thy Love far better ways A lump of Sugar or her Name in Baies A row of Pins a Baby or a Purse Or what as fit had been a Hobby-horse A Valentine had'st thou not wanted bloud To paint it with would have been full as good Thy old Seal-ring thy Grandam's pleated Gown A Boon-grace to preserve her from the Sun. Or any thing rather than a dull pair Of second Eyes these must deform thy Fair. I see thou fain would'st blast her in her prime To parallel thy Age before her Time. What do'st thou think thy Mistress cannot see Without such helps thy full Deformity Thy shaking Noddle and thy dropping Nose Whence the moist Philtre is salt Rheum that flows Thy stooping Shoulders and thy trembling Hands Thy bursten Belly and thy crinkling Hamms Thy spider's Legs and thy club'd corny Feet That stink though grown so dry they cannot sweat Or would'st thou have thy Love a Bug-bear be To fright the Boys in snavelling like thee Or is' t to stop her sense she may not smell The tainted Winds that in thy Bowels swell Until they burst in cracks nor snuff the sent Thy nasty suppurated Issues vent I am content to think this gift was bought In mirth and given her for a Merry-thought Are they to mend hâ—r Sight or dimm her Eyes So to eclipse her Sight from seeing these 'T was thy good Nature made thee give such ware And so in troth the Present was most rare For the great kindness of this gift implies Thou lov'st thy Mistress better than thine Eyes If to find out thou ever had'st design A Present fit to offer at her Shrine Thou should'st have bought the Sun that Day of light And all the twinkling Beauties of the Night And yet those glories of that arched Scene Had been for her an Offering too mean. Embroider'd Waste-coats Spanish Gloves or Plate Watches or Iewels might become her State. But couldst thou find out no allurement else A pair of nasty horn-set Spectacles Where were thy Wits Old Fool she might have born With them if set in Amalthea's horn And had those green-glass Orbs been cut from some O' th' crystal Sphear they might her Eyes become The Case might have past too if made it were Of the Embroider'd Girdle o' th' next Sphear But such a wretched Rogue with such an itch Never made love to any wrinkled Witch Sure thou hast heard that Love is blind and thou By this device would'st be a Cupid too A pleasant Plot i' faith thou would'st be then A pretty Boy of Fourscore years and ten Or thou had'st laid 'em by and wanting light Bestow'dst them for some Gemm as well thou might Or else amaz'd by th'lustre of her Face Mistaking gav'st them for a Looking glass Howe're whether thou didst or didst not see I wish in stead of them th' hadst given her me In Amorem Medicum EPIG FOR Cares whilst Love prepares the Remedies The main Disease in the Physitian lies The Legend of the Famous Furious Expert and Valiant Gittar-Masters Caveliero Comer and Don Hill. BALLAD YOU that love to read the Tracts Of tall Fellows Fights and Facts In this Song will hear a wonder How two Fiddlers fell asunder Lampon c. Comer had the first abuse Which admitted no excuse But since Hill so ill did treat him Dick in wrath resolv'd to beat him Lampon c. Straight a Broom-staff was prepar'd Which Don Hill no little scar'd But he resolv'd if Dick did bast him That his patience should out-last him Lampon c. Whilst good Christian thus he me'nt To despise his punishment And first to appease his Foe send Loe in sight was Dick's fierce Nose-end Lampon c. Whom in terrour Hill did ask If he durst perform his task Dick in wrath reply'd God dam me To that purpose now come am I Lampon c. And withal with main and might Up he trips this proper Knight And with such fury he quel'd Hill That to the Ground he level'd Hill Lampon c. This shews Musick discord has Which the cause of this War was And that Hilâ—'s beaten is a token That their string of Friendship 's broken Lampon c. Now behold this mortal cause Is referr'd to Harry Laws And
noise Of young Children Girls or Boys From ill Beds and full of Fleas From a Wife with Essences Libera nos c. IX From Trapans of wicked Men From the Interest of Ten From Rebellion and the sense Of a wounded Conscience Lastly from the Poets Evil From * O. Cromwell his Highness and the Devil Libera nos c. To some Great Ones EPIGRAM POets are great Mens Trumpets Poets fein Create them Vertues but dare hint no stain This makes the Fiâ—tion constant and does shew You make the Poets not the Poets you To the Memory of my worthy Friend Colonel Richard Lovelace To pay my Love to thee and pay it so As honest Men should what they justly owe Were to write better of thy Life than can Th'assured'st Pen of the most worthy Man Such was thy Composition such thy Mind Improv'd to Vertue and from Vice refin'd Thy Youth an abstract of the World 's best parts Enur'd to Arms and exercis'd in Arts Which with the vigour of a Man became Thine and thy Countries Pyramids of Flame Two glorious Lights to guide our hopefull Youth Into the paths of Honor and of Truth These parts so rarely met made up in thee What Man should in his full perfection be So sweet a temper into every sence And each affection breath'd an influence As smooth'd them to a Calm which still withstood The ruffling Passions of untamed Blood Without a wrinkle in thy Face to show Thy stable Breast could a disturbance know In Fortune humble constant in Mischance Expert of both and both serv'd to advance Thy Name by various tryals of thy Spirit And give the testimony of thy Merit Valiant to envy of the bravest Men And Learned to an undisputed Pen Good as the best in both and great but yet No dangerous Courage nor offensive Wit These ever serv'd the one for to defend The other nobly to advance thy Friend Under which title I have found my Name Fixt in the living Chronicle of Fame To times succeeding yet I hence must go Displeas'd I cannot celebrate thee so But what respect acknowledgment and love What these together when improv'd improve Call it by any Name so it express Ought like a Tribute to thy worthiness And may my bounden Gratitude become Lovelace I offer at thy honour'd Tomb. And though thy Vertues many Friends have bred To love thee Living and lament thee Dead In Characters far better coucht than these Mine will not blot thy Fame nor theirs increase 'T was by thine own great Merits rais'd so high That maugre Time and Fate it shall not die To Poet E. W. Occasion'd for his Writing a Panegyrick on Oliver Cromwell FRom whence vile Poet did'st thou glean the Wit And Words for such a vitious Poem fit Where could'st thou Paper find was not too white Or Ink that could be black enough to write What servile Devil tempted thee to be A flatterer of thine own Slavery To kiss thy Bondage and extol the deed At once that made thy Prince and Country bleed I wonder much thy false Heart did not dread And shame to write what all Men blush to read Thus with a base ingratitude to rear Trophies unto thy Master's Murtherer Who call'd thee Coward much mistook Thou hast at once abus'd thy self and us He 's stout that dares slatter a Tyranne thus Put up thy Pen and Ink muzzle thy Muse Adulterate Hag fit for a common Stews No good Man's Library writ thou hast Treason in Rhime has all thy Works defac't Such is thy fault that when I think to find A punishment of the severest kind For thy offence my malice cannot name A greater than once to commit the same Where was thy reason then when thou began To write against the sense of God and Man Within thy guilty breast Despair took place Thou would'st despairing Die in spite of Grace At once th' art Iudge and Malefactor shown Each Sentence in thy Poem is thine own Then what thou hast pronounc'd go execute Hang up thy self and say I bid thee do 't Fear not thy memory that cannot dye This Panegyrick is thy Elegy Which shall be when or wheresoever read A living Poem to upbraid thee dead DIALOGVE Geron and Amarillis Gr. STay stay fair Nymph oh whither Flies The love and wonder of all Eyes Stay and to see be now besought The Miracle thy Charms have wrought Age turn'd to youth at Love's command And thine which nothing can withstand Am. Be gon old Fool why dost thou stay My better thoughts and cross my way Fly fly and quit my shady walk Nature will blush to see us talk Who all conjunction must disclaim Betwixt her glory and her shame Prefer thy suit to some one fit If not to grant to pardon it Thou wrong'st my youth by thy pretence And ev'ry Pray'r is violence Love has on thee no wonder wrought Thou only art transform'd in thought Nor art thou quick'ned by my Eyes But dream'st of Metamorphosies Thou art the same old thing thou wast Without or sight or touch or taste Hearing or smell or any sense That beauties grace should recompense And only hast a tongue to move Contempt and laughter but no Love. Ge. Sweet do not scorn me though I seem Old and unfit for thy esteem Though hoary grown and shrunk I am I feed within perhaps a flame As hot as can the youngest he That hourly Sighs and sues to thee As I am old I should be wise And better know the thing I prize Than twenty Younglings that do light Their Torches only at the sight Am. I shun thee not for any part Of what thou seem'st but what thou art And that thou dost a flame believe Is but enough to make thee live For if thy Heart a flame should turn The bulk's so dry thy frame would burn I know thee old and wish thee wise A younger Man and younger Eyes On publick Faith thou courtest me For troth I think thou canst not see Ge. Would I were deaf I might not hear This confirmation of my fear I doubted thou would'st scornful prove But look'd for no reproach for love I come perhaps with full delight T'outbid thy wary appetite I can distinguish Beauty too And taste the Fruit for which I sue Know all Love's ends and all his ways Womens reproaches and delays And furnish'd 'em with able Arms To force the Fortress of thy charms Scorn then ingrate my love and me Thy Spring will one day Winter be When ev'ry youthfull Shepherd Swain As thou dost me will thee disdain Am. Old Man why should'st thou think me nice Because I cannot hug thy Ice Or tell me I shall Winter grow Because thy self art turn'd to Snow No heats so wild in my Blood play As need th' excess of thy allay Nor can the judgment of thy dim Erroneous sight raise my esteem And that stiff blade of thine may in Attempts but no performance sin Go Dotard and impartial look Thy Shadow in the frozen Brook In that
congeal'd mirror behold How shrunk thou art wither'd and old Thy Leaf dropt off from thy bald Crown And all an antick Statue grown Then say if ought thou there canst see Fit to present my youth and me Ge. I have fair Nymph consider'd all Thy Youth may tax my Age withall And on my self some Lectures read But cannot find that I am dead For furrow'd though my Skin appears Because old Time these threescore Years Has plow'd it up I 'me fruitfull still And want no power to my will. And though my Leaf be fall'n each Vein Does a proportion'd heat retain One yielding Glance from thy fair Eyes Would make my lusty Sap to rise And glow with germinating heat My wanton Pulses strongly beat Create me then and call me thine We then will in Embraces twine As sweet and fruitfull as the Pair That in their April coupled were Am. Stay Shepherd stay you run too fast This fury is too hot to last And by the crackling Flame I doubt The Fire will be soon burnt out Leave me and stumble to thy Bed Where dream thou hast me and thou' rt sped Ge. Fair and inflexible will Love Pray'rs Tears and Suff'rings nothing move Thus then I leave thee and am gone To die for an ungratefull one When I am dead if thou repent And sigh over my Monument â—y that sweet Breath I shall respire 〈◊〉 Dead enjoy my Life's desire Am. Stay stay for now I better see Tâ—â—nblemisâ—'t truth that shines in thee Thou conquer'd hast I am o'recome Then lead me Shepherd Captive home CHORUS JOlly Shepherds quit your Flocks To the greedy Wolf or Fox Though no Shepherd them attend Hecate will all defend For another Cynthia's led To a lusty old Man's Bed. Tune your Oaten Pipes and Play This is Hymen's Holy-day To one Night a Years mirth bring Winter 's marry'd to the Spring Therefore it becomes each one To Crown the revolutiâ—n An Epitaph on Robert Port Esq design'd for a Monument And now set up in Elum Church in the County of Stafford VErtue in those good times that bred good Meâ— No testimony crav'd of Tongue or Pen No marble Columns nor engraven Brass To tell the World that such a Person was For then each Pious Act to fair descent Stood for the worthy Owner's Monument But in this change of Manners and of States Good Names though writ in Marble have their fates Such is the barb'rous and irrev'rent rage That arms the Rabble of this impious Age. Yet may this happy Stone that bares a Name Such as no bold Surviver dares to claim To Ages yet unbron unblemish't stand Safe from the stroke of an inhumane Hand Here Reader here a Port's sad Reliques lye To teach the careless World Mortality Who while he Mortal was unrivall'd stood The Crown and Glory of his Antient blood 〈◊〉 for his Princes and his Countries trust 〈◊〉 to God and to his Neighbour just A loyal Husband to his latest end A gracious Father and a faithfull Friend Belov'd he liv'd and dy'd o'recharg'd with Years â—â—ller of Honour than of Silver Hairs And to sum up his Vertues this was he Who was what all we should but cannot be To Cupid a foolish Poet occasion'd by as foolish a Poem of his to a bona Roba I. GOod Cupid I must tell you truly Had it not been for Abram Cowley You and your Ode had come off blewly II. With other Thefts that shall be nameless Because their Authors should be blameless Although your Worship 's somewhat shameless III. Could such a spatious Beauty want Matter her native worth to paint That thy Dull Muse was grown so scant IV. As thus to steal from other Muses When thine own Wit at need refuses Elogies for such pious Uses V. Out of her Shoulders or her Haunches Thou surely might'st have Collopt Fancies Enough for Millions of Romances VI. 〈◊〉 any part thou might'st find matter 〈◊〉 the brightest she to flatter 〈◊〉 that she cannot hold her Water VII 〈◊〉 such a Saying of a Bard 〈◊〉 doubtless yet was never heard 〈◊〉 Man that Verses made or mar'd VIII â—â—ou should'st have told her she was tight 〈◊〉 built well tackled new and light 〈◊〉 for Stoage and for Fight IX 〈◊〉 on what Mount was thy Muse Nurst Of Block-heads thou art sure the worst To say she sprang a Leak at first X. Cupid I doubt me not to flatter By your ill handling of the Matter You 're but a simple Navigator XI She 's such a Vessel that who 'll swim her Steer and Man out Carine and trim her Must be no Youth of your small Timber XII Then leave thy Rhiming and be Quiet I tell the She 's not for thy Diet Thou hast another Hulk to ply out XIII And hope thou Dunce for no rewarding She 's not so lean to need thy larding And thou a Poet worth a Farthing Philoxipes and Policrite An Essay to an Heroick Poem CANTO I. The ARGUMENT THis Canto serves first to relate Philoxipes his Birth and parts His Princes Friendship Wealth and State His Youth his Manners Arms and Arts His strange contempt of Love 's dread Dart Till a meer Shadow takes his Heart I. In Thetis lap and by her Arms embrac't Betwixt the Syrian and Cilician Coasts The Poets Cyprus fortunately plac't Like Nature's Casket all her Treasure boasts An Isle that once for her renowned Loves Stood consecrate to Venus and her Doves II. From whose fair Womb once sprung as fair a Seed To shame the brood of the corrupted World The graceful Sexes of her happy Breed In one another chast Embraces curl'd Nor other difference knew than did arise From em'lous Vertue for the Vertues prize III. And these were Strifes where Envy had no place She was not known in such a vertuous War Nor had Ambition with her Gyant Race In such Contentions a malignant share Love was the cause and Vertue was the claim That could their honest gentle Hearts enflame IV. But none amongst that never failing Race Could match Philoxipes that noble Youth In Strength and Beauty Fortitude and Grace In gentle Manners and unblemisht Truth In all the Vertues and the Arts that shou'd Embellish Manhood or ennoble Blood. V. A Prince descended from the Royal Lines Of Greece and Troy united in one Bed Where merit and reward did once combine The Seeds of Aeacus and Leomed And in a brave Succession did agree Bold Felamon and fair Hesione VI. From this illustrious Pair fam'd Teucer sprung Who when return'd from Ilium's fun'ral Fire Without due Vengeance for his Brother's Wrong Was banisht home by his griev'd Father's Ire And into Cyprus fortunately came To build a City to his Country's Name VII Great Salamis whose polisht Turrets stood For many Ages in the course of Time T'orelook the surface of the swelling Flood The strength and glory of that fruitful Clime Was His great Work from whose brave Issue since The World receiv'd this worthy matchless Prince VIII Worthy his Ancestors and that great Name
But with a calm and stealing pace Neither too rude nor yet too cold III. Play in her beams and crisp her Hair With such a gale as wings soft Love And with so sweet so rich an Air As breaths from the Arabian Grove IV. A Breath as hush 't as Lovers sigh Or that unfolds the Morning door Sweet as the Winds that gently fly To sweep the Springs enamell'd Floor V. Murmur soft Musick to her Dreams That pure and unpoluted run Like to the new-born Christal Streams Under the bright enamour'd Sun. VI. But when she waking shall display Her light retire within your bar Her Breath is life her Eyes are day And all Mankind her Creatures are Laura Weeping ODE I. CHast lovely Laura `gan disclose Drooping with sorrow from her Bed As with ungentle Show'rs the Rose O'recharg'd with wet declines her head II. With a dejected look and pace Neglectingly she `gan appear When meeting with her tell-tale Glass She saw the Face of sorrow there III. Sweet sorrow drest in such a look As love would trick to catch desire A shaded Leaf in Beauties Book Charact'red with clandestine Fire IV. Down dropt a Tear to deck her Cheeks With orient Treasure of her own Such as the diving Negro seeks T' adorn the Monarch's mighty Crown V. Then a full showr of pearly Dew Upon her snowy Breast `gan fall As in due Homage to bestrew Or mourn her Beauties Funeral VI. So have I seen the springing Morn In dark and humid Vapours clad Not to eclipse but to adorn Her glories by that conquer'd shade VII Spare Laura spare those Beauties twins Do not our World of Beauty drown Thy Tears are Balm for other Sins Thou know'st not any of thine own VIII Then let them shine forth to declare The sweet Serenity within May each day of thy Life be fair And to eclipse one hour be Sin. SONNET CHloris whil'st thou and I were free Wedded to nought but Liberty How sweetly happy did we live How free to promise free to give Then Monarch's of our selves we might Love here or there to change delight And ty'd to none with all dispence Paying each love its recompence But in that happy freedom we Were so improvidently free To give away our Liberties And now in fruitless Sorrow pine At what we are what might have been Had thou or I or both been wife SONNET WHy dost thou say thou lov'st me now And yet proclam'st it is too late When bound by folly or by fate Thou canst no further grace allow Repeat no more that killing Voice Thou beautious Victrice of my Heart Or find a way to ease my smart Maugre thy now repented choice ` T is not too late to love and do What love and nature prompt thee to Whilst thus thou triumph'st in thy prime Thou may'st discreetly love and use Those plâ—asures thou didst once refuse But to profess it were a Crime SONNET WHy dost thou say thy Heart is gon And no more mine no more thine own But past retrieve for ever wed By sacred Vow t'another's Bed Why dost thou tell me that I lye Bound in the same perplexed tye And that our now divided Souls Are cold and distant as the Poles Dost thou not know when first our Loves â—ere plighted in the secret Groves Our hearts were chang'd with equal flame 〈◊〉 Chloris then how can it be Couldst thou give me or I give thee No no our selves are still the same SONNET HOw should'st thou Love and not offend Why Chloris I will tell thee how 〈◊〉 thou did'st once so Love me now 〈◊〉 lye with me and there 's an end Thou only art enjoyn'd my Sweet To keep thy Reputation high And that indeed is secrecy 〈◊〉 all do err thou all not see 't Then fairest Fearless of all blame That sacred Treasure of thy Name Into my faithful Arms commit Thou once did'st trust me with thy fame I then was just and true to it And Chloris I am still the same To Sir Aston Cockayne on Captain Hanniball EPIG YOur Captain Hanniball does snort and puff Arm'd in his Brazen-face and Greazy Buff ` Mongst Puncks and Panders and can rant and roar With Cacala the Turd and his poor Whore. But I would wish his Valour not mistake us All Captains are not like his Brother Dacus Advise him then be quiet or I shall Bring Captain Hough to bait your Hannibal In imitation of a Song in the Play of Rollo TAke O take my Fears away Which thy cold Disdains have bred And grant me one auspicious Ray From thy Morn of Beauties shed But thy killing Beams restrain Lest I be by Beauty slain II. Spread O spread those orient Twins Which thy snowy Bosom grace Where Love in Milk and Roses swims Blind with Lustre of thy Face But let Love thaw them first left I Do on those frozen Mountains dye To Sir Aston Cockayne on his Tragedy of Ovid. LOng live the Poet and his lovely Muse The Stage with Wit and Learning to infuse Embalm him in immortal Elegy My gentle Naso for if he should dye Who makes thee live thou 'lt be again pursu'd And banisht Heaven for Ingratitude Transform again thy Metamorphosis In one and turn thy various shapes to his A Twin-born Muse in such Embraces curl'd As shall subject the Scriblers of the World And spite of time and Envy henceforth sit The ruling Gemini of Love and Wit. So two pure Streams in one smooth Channel glide In even motion without Ebb or Tide As in your Pens Tybur and Anchor meet And run Meanders with their silver Feet Both soft both gentle both transcending high Both skill'd alike in charming Elegy So equally admir'd the Laurels due Without distinction both to him and you Naso was Rome's fam'd Ovid you alone Must be the Ovid to our Albion In all things equal saving in this case Our Modern Ovid has the better Grace Philodramatos De Die Martis Die Veneris EPIG SAturn and Sol and Lunâ— chast ` Twixt Mars and Venus still are plac't Whilst Mercury and Iove divide The Lovers on the other side What may the hidden Mystery Of this unriddled Order be The Gods themselves do justly fear That should they trust these two too near Mars would be drown'd in Venus and so they Should lose a Planet and the Week a Day ALIVD SHould Mars and Venus have their Will Venus would keep her Friday ill ODE To Love. I. GReat Love I thank thee now thou hast Paid me for all my Suff'rings past And wounded me with Nature's Pride For whom more Glory `t is to dye Scorn'd and neglected than enjoy All Beauty in the World beside II. A Beauty above all pretence Whose very Scorns are recompence The Regent of my Heart is crown'd And now the Sorrows and the Woe My Youth or Folly helpt me to Are buried in this Friendly Wound III. Led by my Folly or my Fate I lov'd before I knew not what And threw my Thoughts I knew not where With Judgment now I
love and sue And never yet Perfection knew Until I cast mine Eyes on her IV. My Soul that was so mean before Each little Beauty to adore Now rais'd to Glory does despise Those poor and counterfeited Rays That caught me in my childish Days And knows no Power but her Eyes VI. Rais'd to this height I have no more Almighty Love now to implore Of my auspicious Stars on thee Than that thou bow her noble Mind To be as mercifully kind As I shall ever faithful be TRANSLATIONS Out of several POETS Horace his second Epod Translated HAppy 's that Man that is from City-Care Sequestred as the Ancients were That with his own Oxe ploughs his Father's Lands Untainted with usurious Bands That from Alarms of War in quiet sleeps Nor 's frighted with the raging Deeps That shuns litigious Law and the proud State Of his more potent Neighbour's Gate Therefore he either is imploy'd to joyn The Poplar to the sprouting Vine Pruning luxurious Branches grafting some More hopeful Offspring in their room Or else his sight in humble Valleys feasts With scatter'd troops of lowing Beasts Or refin'd Hony in fine Vessels keeps Or shears his snowy tender Sheep Or when Autumnus shews his fruitful head I' th' mellow Fields with Apples covered How he delights to pluck the grafted Pear And Grapes whose Cheeks do Purple wear Of which to thee Priapus Tythes abound And Silvan Patron of his Ground Now where the aged Oak his green Arms spreads He lies now in the flowry Meads Whilst through their deep-worn Banks the murmuring Flouds Do glide and Birds chant in the Woods And bubling Fountains flowing Streams do weep A gentle Summons unto Sleep But when cold Winter does the Storms prepare And Snow of thundering Iupiter Then with his Dogs the furious Boar he foils Compell'd into objected Toils Or on the Forks extends his mashy Net For greedy Thrushes a deceit The fearful Hare too and the Stranger Crane With gins he takes a pleasant gain Who but with such Diversions would remove All the malignant Cares of Love But if to these he have a modest Spouse To nursâ— his Children keep his House Such as the Sabin Women or the tan'd Wife o' th' painful Apulian To make a good Fire of dry Wood when come From his hard Labour weary home The wanton Cattle in their Booths to tye Stripping their stradling Udders dry Drawing the Must from forth the cleanly Fat 's To wash down their unpurchas'd Cates Mullet or Thorn-back cannot please me more Nor Oysters from the Lucrine shore When by an Eastern Tempest they are tost Into the Sea that sweeps this Coast. The Turky fair of Africk shall not come Within the confines of my Womb As Olives from the fruitfull'st Branches got Ionian Snites so sweet are not Or Sorrel growing in the Meadow Ground Or Mallows for the Body sound The Lamb kill'd for the Terminalia Or Kid redeem'd from the Wolf's Prey Whilst thus we feed what Joy `t is to behold The pastur'd Sheep haste to their Fold And th' wearied Ox with drooping Neck to come Haling th' inverted Culter home And swarms of Servants from their Labour quit About the shining Fire sit Thus when the Vsurer Alphius had said Now purposing this Life to lead 〈◊〉 Ides call'd in his Mony but for gain I' th' Kalends put it forth again Horat. Ode IX Lib. III. Ad Lydiam Hor. WHilst I was acceptable unto thee And that no other youthful Arm might cling About thy snowy Neck than mine more free More blest I flourisht than the Persian King. Lyd. And for no other Womans Beauty when Thou sigh'dst and when thy Chloe did not come Before thy Lydia thy Lydia then Flourisht more fam'd than Ilia of Rome Hor. Now Thracian Chloe is my only Dear Skill'd on the Harp and skilful in an Air For whom to die I not at all should fear If gentle Fate my Soul in her would spare Lyd. The Son of Ornithus the Thurine me With equal violence of heat doth move for whom with all my Heart I twice would die So Fate would spare the gentle Boy my Love. Hor. What if our Friendship should renew And link our Loves in a more lasting Chain Yellow-hair'd Chloe should I slight for you Should my access to thee be free again Lyd. Though than a glorious Star He is more bright And thou than is the Adriatick Sea More raging and than spungy Cork more light Yet should I love to live and die with thee Martial Epig. Lib. I. Ep. XX. AS I remember Aelia cought full sore She cought out twice two Teeth she had but four Now she may safely cough for over Why Her Mouth 's not charg'd to let such Bullets fly Stances de Monsieur Theophile I. WHen thy nak'd Arm thou see'st me kiss Upon the snowy Sheet display'd Which whiter than the Linnen is And when my glowing Hand 's betray'd Wandring about thy Paps Thy Sense may prove Chloris that with a burning heat I love II. 〈◊〉 Zealots Eyes to Heaven tend So mine Eyes unto thine are turn'd â—hen to thy Couch my Knees I bend With thousands of warm Passions burn'd My Lips from whispering Murmurs then are free And suffer my Delights to sleep with thee III. Mâ—rpheus glad of the surprise In his black Empire thee detains And hides from seeing me thine Eyes VVith so dull so heavy Chains That thy soft slumber'd-charmed Spirits lye Dumb without murmur at his Tyranny IV. In breathing her perfume the Rose In shooting forth his heat the Day The Chariot where Diana goes And Naiad's when in Flouds they play The silent Graces in a Picture to Make more of noise than thy soft Breathings dâ— V. Then by thee did I breathe a Sigh And when thy rest I had descryed The sweet Repose that seal'd thine Eye With Passion then Oh Heaven I cryed How canst thou from such excellent Limbs as these Extract so great an ill as my Disease Her Heart and Mine Out of Astrea MADRIGALL I. WEll may I say that our two Hearts Composed are of flinty Rock Mine as resisting rigorous Darts Yours as it can indure the shock Of Love and of my Tears and Smart II. â—ut when I weigh the griefs whereby My Suff'rings I perpetuate 〈◊〉 say in this extremity In Constancy that I am that Rock which you are in Cruelty To Charinus an ugly Womans Husband Epig. out of Johannes Sâ—cundus CHarinus 't was my hap of late To have a sight of thy dear Mate So white so flourishing so fair So trim so modest debonair That if good Iove would grant to me A leash of Beauties such as she I 'de give the Devil at one Word Two that he 'd take away the third An Ode of Johannes Secundus Translated To my dear Tutor Mr. Ralph Rawson THE World shall want Phaebean light And th' Icy Moon obscured lye And sparkling Stars their Rooms shall quit I' th' gloomy Sky The Crab shall shorter cut the Day The Capricorn prolong its Hours And