The Harmony of the muses, or, The gentlemans and ladies choisest recreation full of various, pure and transcendent wit : containing severall excellent poems, some fancies of love, some of disdain, and all the subjects incident to the passionate affections either of men or women / heretofore written by those unimitable masters of learning and invention, Dr. Joh. Donn, Dr. Hen. King, Dr. W. Stroad [et al]. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A31143 of text R9732 in the English Short Title Catalog (Wing C105). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 133 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 56 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A31143 Wing C105 ESTC R9732 12532791 ocm 12532791 62800 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A31143) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 62800) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 175:11) The Harmony of the muses, or, The gentlemans and ladies choisest recreation full of various, pure and transcendent wit : containing severall excellent poems, some fancies of love, some of disdain, and all the subjects incident to the passionate affections either of men or women / heretofore written by those unimitable masters of learning and invention, Dr. Joh. Donn, Dr. Hen. King, Dr. W. Stroad [et al]. R. C. Donne, John, 1572-1631. King, Henry, 1592-1669. Strode, William, 1600 or 1601-1645. [5], 26, 33-111 p. Printed by T.W. for William Gilbertson ..., London : 1654. "To the readers" signed: R.C., Esq. "Never before published" Reproduction of original in Huntington Library. eng English poetry -- 17th century. A31143 R9732 (Wing C105). civilwar no The harmony of the Muses: or, The gentlemans and ladies choisest recreation; full of various, pure, and transcendent wit. Containing several [no entry] 1654 24268 130 0 0 0 0 0 54 D The rate of 54 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the D category of texts with between 35 and 100 defects per 10,000 words. 2003-05 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2003-05 Aptara Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2004-11 Ben Griffin Sampled and proofread 2004-11 Ben Griffin Text and markup reviewed and edited 2005-01 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion The Frontispiece . SCulptures are useless here , or Lines in prayse , The Soul of Poetry slights all weaker Bayes ; As Sol invested in his best Array , Takes not , but gives more glory to the day , With 's livening Beams gladding the teeming Earth , To Budds , to Blossoms , and to Flow'rs gives Birth : So do these three times three in Harmony Give Birth to Arts , new life to Poetry . Love offers here his Quiver , and his Bow , Vowing henceforth he will a Pigrim go Vnto the Muses Temple , there to joyne In Diapasons with these Sacred Nine . Apollo here new-strings his golden Lyre , And wise Minerva sings unto this Quire : Venus slights Mars , not deigning once to look On any other Object , but this Book . THE HARMONY OF THE MUSES : OR , The Gentlemans and Ladies Choisest Recreation ; Full of various , pure , and transcendent Wit . Containing severall excellent Poems ; Some , Fancies of Love , some of Disdain , and all the subjects incident to the passionate Affections either of men or women . Heretofore written by those unimitable Masters of Learning and Invention , Dr. Joh. Donn Dr. Hen. King Dr. W. Stroad Sr. Kenelm Digby Mr. Ben. Johnson , Mr. Fra. Beamont J. Cleveland T. Randolph T. Carew . And others of the most refined Wits of those TIMES . Never before Published . London , Printed by T. W. for William Gilbertson at the sign of the Bible in Giltspur-street without Newgate . 1654. TO THE READERS . THere needs no Commendatory Epistle to perswade you to the entertaining of this Book ; The onely Names of the Authours are eloquent enough : It were unnecessary Art and labour to indeavor to present unto you the Transcendent height of their meritorious Pens , and with what delight beauty they have crowned Poetry , which is the Beauty and Delight of Learning . Poetry in their dayes flourished , and they flourished with it , and gave a Crown unto that which hath crowned them with Honor , and perpetuall Fame . The Genius of those times produced many incomparable Witts , who being excellent in themselves , in a noble emulation , contended who should 〈◊〉 each other . From hence it is we have so many admirable Pi●ces of Perfection derived to us , every Subject , in every particular , being so choicely handled , that what room is left unto Posterity , is rather to admire and imitate , then to equall them . There were never in one Age so many contemporary Patterns of Invention , or ever Witt that wrought higher or cleerer . For though our homely Progenitors , with too vain admiration were accustomed to prosecute the Issues of out-landish Witts , and believed nothing to be exquisite , but what came from France or Italy ; yet this Age by Experience hath found , that without the least Imitation , we have given them Examples of our own , and excelled them as much in soundness as in Beauty . If any shall object , that here and there the Fancy seems some time too loose for such Reverend Names , let him impute it to the lightness of the Subject , and to the heat and vigour of their early Witts , when first those Ayres were breathed forth . The Fancyes of so many letter'd and unequalled men are here united into one Piece , and do challenge as much your applause , as entertainment ; And being never before made publick , you may be the more oblieged to take notice of them , and to gratulate the friendly hand that travelled in this Collection , which was onely but to please you . Farewell , Yours devoted , R. C. Esq THE HARMONY OF THE MUSES . On the Choice of a Mistris . WHen I do love , my Mistris must be fair , Yet not extreamly , so shall I dispaire : When I do Love , my Mistris must be wise , Yet not all Wit , I 'le not be so precize : When I do love , my Mistris chaste must be , Not obstinate , for then shee 's not for me ; For when I love , my Mistris must be kind , Yet not before I her with Merit bind ; Shee whom I love , needs not for to be rich , For Vertue , and not wealth , doth me bewitch ; She whom I love , must once have lov'd before , For meeting equall , we may love the more : And to conclude , my Mistris must be young , And last , what 's hardest , not have too much toung . An Elegie made by I. D. COme Maddam come , all stay my powers deny , Untill I labour , I in labour ly The foe oft-times having the foe in sight , Is tir'd with standing , though he never fight : Off with your girdle , like heaven's Zone glistering But a far fairer World incompasing . Un●in that spangled breast-plate which you wear , That eyes of busy fools may be stopt there . Unlace your self , for that Harmonious chime Tell 's me from you , that now it is bed-time . Off with that happy busk , which I envie , That still can be , and still can stand so nie . Your gown going off , such beauteous state reveals , As when from flowery meads hills shadows steales . Off with that wiery Corronet , and show The happier diadem , which on you doth grow . Off with those shoo● , that thou may'st safely tread In this ( Loves hallowed Temple ) this soft bed . In such white roabs , heavens Angels use to be Receiv'd by men ; thou Angels bringst with thee . A heavenly Mahomet● Paradice ▪ and though Ill spirits walke in white , wee easily know By this , these Angels from an evill sprite , They set our hairs , b●● these our flesh upright . Licence my roving hands , and let them goe Behind , before , above , between , belowe . O my Americka ! my New-found-Land ! The Kingdom's safest , when by one man man'd : My Mine of precious stones ! my Emperie ! How bl●st am I in this discovering thee . To enter into these bonds , is to be free , Then where my hand is set , my seal shall bee ; As souls in bodies , bodyes uncloath's must bee To taste these joyes ; Those Jems you Women use Are as Atlanta's Balls cast in mens views , That when a fools eye lighteth on a Jem , His earthly soul may covet theirs , not them : Like Pictures , or like Books gay covering made For Lay-men , are all Women thus array'd : Themselves are Mistick bodies , which hourly we ( Whom their imputed grace will dignifie ) Must see reveal'd : then since that I may know ( As liberally ) as to a Mid-wife show Thy self ; Cast you all this white Linnen hence , There is no Pennance due to Innocence ; To teach thee , I am naked first ; Why than Needst thou to have more covering then a man . The Rapture , by J. D. IS she not wondrous fair ? but yet I see She is so much too fair , too sweet for me : That I forget my self , and a new fire Hath taught me not to love , but to admire ! Just as the Sun , methinks I see her face , Which I may gaze upon , but not imbrace : For 't is heavens pleasure sure she should be sent As pure to heaven again , as she was lent To us ; And bids us , as we hope for bliss , Not to profane her with one mortall kisse ; Then how cold growes my love , and oh how lot ! O how I love her , how I love her not : Thus doth my Ague-love torment by turns , Now well-nigh friezeth , now again it burns . The Extreames , by T. C. I Le gaze no more on her bewitching face , Sure ruin harbours there in every place : I le view no more those cruel eyes of hers , Which pleas'd or angry , still are Murtherers : For my enchanted soul , alas she drowns , With Calms and Tempests of her smiles & frowns . If she but dart ( as lightning ) through the ayre Her beams of warmth , they 'le kill me with despair If she behold me with a pleasant eye , I surfeit with excess of joy , and die . A Sonnet . THe World is nothing but inconstancie , How can it be ought else ; when 'bove the sky Adultery is committed : mark these twins , Earth , Ayre , and Water are heavens Concubines : The Lustfull Sun ingendereth with the earth , And she , as fruitfull , yeelds a happy birth Of plants , of hearbs , of flowers : the labouring skies Hurl hail-stones in the sea , the surges rise , Swell , toss and wallow , like the throwes of paine , And monthly are delivered in the Maine . The false Moon hath her changes ; why should men Weak-temper'd Women then so much contemn : If that the essentiall Powers congeminate , How can this Earthly but incorporate ? Man's Miserie , by Dr. K. ILl busied man ! why dost thou take such care To lengthen out thy lifes short Callender ? When every spectacle thou lookst upon Presents and acts thine execution : Each dropping Season , and each flowre doth crie Fool , as I fade and wither , thou must die . The beating of the pulse , when thou art well , Is just the towling of thy passing-bell . Night is the Hearse , whose sable Canopie Covers alike diseased day and thee . And all those weeping dews that nightly fall , Are but as tears shed at thy funerall . The Surfeit . DIsdain me still , that I may ever love , For who his Love injoyes , can love no more ; War but now past , with ease men cowards prove , And ships return'd do rot upon the shore . Then though thou frown , I 'le say thou art most fair , And still I le love , though still I must dispair . As heat to life , so is desire to love ; And those once gone , both love ▪ and life are done , Let not my sighs and tears thy vertue move ; Like baser Mettalls , do not melt so soone . Laugh at my woes , although I ever mourne , Love sufeits if enjoy'd , and turns to scorne . To his Mistris . HEre let me War , in these Armes let me lie , ●ere let me parly , better , bleed and die ; Thy Arms imprison me , and my arms thee , Thy heart my ransom is , take mine for thee : Other men war , that they their rest may gaine , And we will rest , that we may fight againe ; Those warres the Ignorant , these the experienc'd prove , There we are alwayes under , here above . There Engins a farr off move a just feare , But Thrusts , Pricks , Stabs ; nay , bullets hurt not here : There lies are wrong ; here wee 'l uprightly lie ; There men kill men ; wee 'l make one by and by : There nothing ; I not halfe so much can do In these Warres , as they which from us two Shall spring ; thousands we see which travell not To warres , but stay at home , swords , guns and shot D● make for others ; Shall not I do then More glorious service , staying to make men . An Incouragement for young Lovers . LOve 's like a game at Tables , where the dy Of womens mindes doth by affection flie : If once you catch their fancie at a blot , 'T is ten to one if that you enter not : However , like a gamester boldly venter , And where you see the Point lie open , enter : But mark it well , for by false play then , Do what you can , they will be bearing men . The choice of a Mistris . HEr for a Mistris , faine would I enjoy , That hangs the lip , and pouts at every toy , Speaks like a wag , is fair , dare boldly stand , And rear Loves Standard with a wanton hand , Who in loves fight , for one blow gives me three , And being stab'd , falls streight to kissing me ; For if she wants the Tricks of Venerie , Were 't Venus self , I would not love her , I , If she be modest , wise , and chast of life , Hang her ; shee 's good for nothing , but a wife . To Mr. J. W. a Parson in Devon . Inviting him to come up to London . By Joh. Myns . HOw now Iohn , what is 't the care Of thy small Flock that keeps thee there ? Or hath the Bishop in a rage Forbid thy comming on our Stage ? Or wantst thou coyne , or wantst thou steed ; These are Impediments indeed : Now for thy Flock , the Sexton may In due time ring , and let them pray : The Bishop with an offering , Will be brought to any thing . For two Sermons by the way , Will Host and Hostis , Tapster pay : A willing mind pawns Wedding ring , Books , Wife , Children , Gown , any thing , Nought unattempted , nought too deare To see such friends as thou hast here : For want of Coyne , I oft see Vick Trudge up the Town with hazzel stick . I met a Priest upon th' way , Rid in a Waggon the other day , Who told me that the venter'd forth With one Tythe-Pigg of little worth , With which , and saying grace at food , And praying for Lord Carriers good , He had arrived at 's journeys end , Without a penny , or a Friend ; And what great business dost thou think , Onely to see a friend and drink : One friend , why thou hast hundreds here , That can make thee far greater cheere . Ships lately from the Iland came , VVith Wine thou never knewst the name . Montefiasco , Frantiniack , Leaticum , and that Old Sack Young Herrick took to entertaine The Muses to his sprightly veine . Come , come , and leave thy Muddy Ale , That serves but for an old Wives tale , And now and then to break a jeast At some poor silly neighbors feast . Come quickly then , and learne to see Thy friends expect thy Witt and thee : And though thou canst not come in state On Cammels back , like Coriate , Imagine that the Pack-horse bee The Cammell in his book you see ; I know thou hast a fancy can Conceive thy guide a Caravan : Rather then stay , speak Treason there , And come at Charges of the shire ; A London Goale , with friends and chink Is worth your Viccaridge Iohn I think . But if besotted with that One Thou hast of Ten , stay there alone , And too too late repent and cry Thou hast lost thy friends , and 'mongst them I. A Farewell to the World by Sir K. D. FArewell you gilded follies , pleasing troubles , Farewel ye honourd rags , ve chrystal bubbles ; Fame is but hollow eccho , Gold but clay , Honour the darling but of one short day , Beauties chief Idol but a Damask skin , State but a golden prison to keep in , And torture free-born minds ; embroidered trains Meerly but Pageants ; proudly swelling Veines , And bloud ally'd to greatness , is but loan , Inherited , and purchast , not her own ; Fame , Riches , Honor , Beauty , State , Trains , Birth , Are but the fading blessings of the earth : I would be great , but see the Sun doth still , Level his beams against the rising hill : I would be rich , but see man too unkind , Digs in the bowels of the richest Mine : I would be fair , but see the Champion proud , The worlds fair eye , oft setting in a cloud : I would be wise , but that the Fox I see Suspected guilty , when the Asse goes free : I would be poor , but see the humble grasse , Trampled upon by each unworthy Asse : Rich hated , wise suspected , scorn'd if poor , Great feared , fair tempted , high envied more . Would the world now adopt me for her heir , Would Beauties Queen entitle me the fair , Fame speak me Honours Minion , could I vie Angels with India , with a speaking eye , Command bare heads , bowed knees , strike Justice dumb As well as blind and lame , to give a tongue To stones by Epitaphs , to be call'd great Master In the loose Lines of every Po●taster ; Could I be more then any man that lives , Great , wise , rich , fair , in all suparlatives , I count one minute of my holy treasure Beyond so much of all this empty pleasure ; Welcome pure thoughts , welcom ye careless grove These are my guests , this is my cour●age love ; The winged people of the sky shall sing My Anthemes , by my servants , gentle Springs ; A Prayer-book shall be my Looking-glasse , Wherein I will adore sweet Vertues face ; Here dwels no heatfull loves , no palsie fears , No short joyes purchast with eternal tears : Here will I sigh , and sing my hot youths folly , An learn to affect an holy Melancholy ; And if contentment be a stranger , then I le never look for 't but in Heaven agen . An Elgie by Dr. K. occasioned by his owne sicknesse . WEll did the Prophet a●k , Lord what is man ? Implying by the question , that none can But God resolve the doubt , much less define , What Elements this child of dust combine . Man is a stranger to himself , and knowes Nothing so natural , as his own woes ; He loves to travel countries , and confer The Signes of vast Heavens Diameter ; Delights to sit in Niles or Betis lap , Before he sayleth over his own Map ; By which meanes he returns , his Travels spent , Less knowing of himself then when he went , Who knowledge hunts , kept under forreign locks May bring home wit to hold a Paradox , Yet be●ools still : Therefore might I advise , I would inform the Soul before the eyes . Make man into his proper opticks look , And so become the Student , and the Book : With his conception his first leaf begin , What is he there , but complicated sin ? When Viper time , and the approaching birth Ranks him among the creatures of the earth ; His wayling Mother sends him forth to greet The World , wrapt in a bloudy winding-sheet , As if he came into the world to crave No place to dwell in , but bespeak a Grave ; Thus like a red or tempest boading morn , His dawning is , for being newly born , He hailes the evening tempest with shriek cryes , And fines for his admission with wet eyes . How should that plant whose leaf is bath'd in tears , Bare but a bitter fruit in elder years ? Just such is his ; and his maturer age , Teems with the event more sad then the presage ; For view him higher then his childhoods span , Is raised up to Youths Miridian , When he goes proudly laden with the fruit , Which health , or strength , or beauty contribute ; That as the mounted Canon batters down The Towers and goodly structures of a Town ; So one short sickness will his force defeat , And his frail Cittadel to Rubbish beat . How doth a Dropsie melt him to a flood , Making each vein run water more then blood ? A Collick racks him like a Northern gust , And raging Feavers crumble him to dust . In which unhappy he is made worse By his diseases , then his Makers curse . God said , with toils & sweat he should earn bread , And without labour not be nourished : Here ( though like ropes of falling dew ) his sweat Hangs on his labouring brow , he cannot eat : Thus are his sins scourg'd in opposing theames , And Luxuries revenged in the extreams : He who in health could never be content With varieties fetcht from each element , Is now much more afflicted to delight His tastless pallet , and lost appetite : Besides , though God ordain'd , that with the light Man should begin his work , yet he made night For his repose , in which the weary sense , Repairs it self by rests soft recompence ; But now his watchfull nights and troubled dayes , Confused heaps of fear and fancies raise : His chamber seems a loose and trembling Mine , His pillow quilted with a Porcupine ; Pain makes his downy Couch , sharp thorns appear And every feather pricks him like a spear ; Thus when all stormes of death about him keep , He copies death in any form but sleep ; Poor walking Clay , hast thou a mind to know , To what unblest beginnings thou dost owe Thy wretched self ; fall sick a while , and then Thou wilt conceive the Pedigree of men ; Learn shalt thou then from thine Anatomy , That earth thy Mother , worms thy sisters be ; That he is a short-liv'd vapour upward wrought , And by corruption into nothing brought ; A staggering meteor by cross Planets beat , Which often reels , and falls before his seat ; A Tree that withers faster then it growes , A Torch put out by every wind that blowes , A web of forty weeks , spun out in pain , And in a moment ravel'd out again ; This is the model of frail man , then say , That his duration 's only for a day , And in that day more fits of changes pass , Then Attomes run in the turn'd Hower-glass , So that the incessant cares which life invade , Might for strange truth their Heresies perswade , Who did maintain that humane souls were sent , Into the body for their punishment ; At least with that Greek sage still make us cry , Not to be born , or being born , to dy . Of Love and Death . AS Love and Death once travel'd on the way , They met together , and together lay Both in a bed ; when Love for all his heat , Found in the night Death's coldness was so great , That all his flames could hardly keep him warm , Betimes he rose , and speedily did arm His naked body , but through too much haste , Som of Deaths shafts he took , neer his being plac'd Leaving behind him many of his own , Which change to him , being blind , is stil unknown Through which mistaking , and his want of eyes , A double wrong to Nature did arise ; For when Love thinks to inflame a youthful heart With his own shafts , he kils with deaths cold dart ; So Death intending to strike old Age dead , Shoots one of Love's Darts with a golden head ; And this appears to me the reason why , Old men do fall in love , and young men die . Waltham Pool . In praise of black Women ; by T. R. IF shadows be a Pictures excellence , And makes the shew more glorious to the sense ; If Stars in the bright day be hid from sight , And shine more glorious in Masque of night , Why should you think rare creaturs that you lack Perfections , cause your hair and eyes be black ; Or that your Beauty , which so far exceeds , The new sprung Lillies in their Maidenheads , The cherry colour of your cheeks and lips , Should by that darknes suffer an eclips ; Nay , 't is not fit that Nature should have made So bright a Sun to shine without some shade ; It seems that Nature when she first did fancy Your rare Composure , studied Negromancy , And when to you those things she did impart , She used altogether the Black Art ; She drew the Magick Circle in your eyes , And made your hair the chains wherein she ties Rebellious hearts : those blew veins which appear Turn'd in Meanders like to either Sphear , Misterious figures are ; and when you list , Your voyce commandeth like an Exorcist ; O! if in Magick you have power so far , Vouchsafe me to be your Familiar . Nor hath kind Nature her black Art reveal'd On outward parts above , some lie conceal'd , As by the Spring head men oft times may know The nature of the streames that run below , So your black hair and eyes do give direction , To make me think the rest of like complection , The rest where all rest lies that blesseth man , That Indian Mine , that Streight of Magollan , That world-dividing gulf , which who so venters With swelling sayles and ravisht senses , enters Into a world of bliss , pardon I pray , If my rude Muse presumes for to display Secrets unknown , or hath her bounds ore-past , In praysing sweetness which she ne'r shall tast ; Starv'd men know there is food , & blind men may Though hid from them , yet know there is a day . A Rover in the mark his Arrow sticks Sometimes as well as he that shoots at pricks ; But if I might direct my shaft aright , The black mark would I hit , and not the white . Loves Elizium . I Will enjoy thee now , my Caelia , come , And flye with me to Loves Elizium , The Giant Honor that keeps Cowards out , Is but a Masker , and the servile Rout Of baser subjects , onely bend in vain , To the vast I doll , whilst the Nobler strain Of valiant Lovers daily sayle between Thy huge Colossus legs , and pass unseen Unto the blissful shore , be bold and wise , And we shall enter ; the grim Switz denies Only tame fools a passage , who not know He is but form , and only frights in show ; The duller eyes which look from far draw neer , And thou shalt scorn what we were wont to fear ; We shall see how the stalking Pageant goes With borrowed legs , a heavy load to those That made and bear him , not ere we our thought , The seed of gods , but a weak model wrought By greedy men , that seek to inclose the Common , And within private arms impale free woman ; Come then , and mounted on the wings of Love , Wee 'l cut the fleeting ayre , and soar above The Monsters head , and in the Noblest seat Of those blest shades , quench and renew our heat : There shall the Ce●een of Love and innocense , Beauty and Nature banish all offence From our close twines , there I 'le behold Thy bared snow , and thy unbreaded Gold , There my unfranchis'd hand on every side , Shall o're thy naked polisht body slide , No curtaln there ( though ) of transparent Lawn , Before thy Virgin treasure shall be drawn , But the rich Mine to the inquiring eye Expos'd , shall ready still for Mintage lye , And we will coyn young Cupids , there a-bed Of Roses and fresh Mirtils shall be spread , Under the cooling shady Cypres Groves , Our pillow of the Down of Venus Doves , Whereon our panting limbs we 'l gently lay , In the faint respit of our active play , That so our slumbers may in dreams have leisure , To tell the nimble fancy of past pleasure , And so our souls that cannot be imbraste , Shall the embraces of our bodies taste ; Mean time the bubling stream shal court the shore , The enamour'd cherping wood-quire shall adore , In varied tunes the Deity of Love , Gentle blasts of Western winds shal move The trembling leavs , & through their close bowes breath Still Musick , whilst we restore our selves beneath , Their dancing shades , till a soft murmur sent From soules entranc't in amorous languishment , Rouse us , and shoot into our souls new fire , Till we in their sweet extasie expire ; Then as the empty Bee , that late●● bore , Into the common treasure all her ●tore , Flyes'bout the painted fields with nimble wings , Deflowring the fresh Virgins of the Springs ; So will I rifle all the sweets that dwell In thy delicious Paradice , and swell In ruggs of Honey , drawn forth by the power Of servent kisses , from each spicie Bower ; I le seize the Rose-buds in the perfum'd bed , The Violet knots like curious Mazes spread , Through al the Gardens tast the ripened Cherries The warm firm Apples tipt with crimson berries , Then will I visit with a wandring kiss , The Vail of Lillies , and the bower of bliss , And where the beautious Region doth divide , Into two milkey wayes my lips shall slide Down those smooth Allies , wearing as I go , A Track for Lovers in the printed snow ; Then climbing o're the swelling Appenine , Retire into the Grove of Egliantine , Where I will all those ravish'd sweets distill , ( skil , Through Loves moyst Limbeck , & with Chymick From the mixt mass of our soveraign Balm derive And bring the great Elixar to the Hive ; Now in more subtler Wreathes I will intwine My sinewy thighes , my legs and arms with thine , Thou like a sea of Milk shall lye display'd , Whilst I the smooth calm Ocean do invade With such a tempest , as when Iove of old , Set down with Danae in a shower of Gold ; Yet my tall Pine shall in thy Cyprian strait , Ride safe at Anchor , and unlade his fraight , My Rudder with thy bold hand , like a tri'd And skilful Pylot , thou shalt steer , and guide My Bark into Loves channel , where it shall Dance , as the bounding waves do rise and fall , Then shall thy twining arms embrace and clip My naked body , and thy balmed lip Bathe me in juice of kisses , whose perfume , Like a Religious Incense shall consume , And send up holy vapours to those powers , That bless our Loves , & crown our happy howrs , That with such Halcian joyes do fix our souls , In sted fast peace , that no annoy controuls ; There no rude sounds frights us with suddē starts , No jealous ecchoes there shall gripe our hearts , Suck our discourse in , nor are we betray'd To Rivals , by the bribed Chamber maid ; No Wedlocks bond untwist our unreacht loves , We seek no midnight Arbours , no dark groves , To hide our kisses ; There the hated name Of husband , wife , lust , modest , chaste , or shame , Are vain and empty words , whose very sound , Was never heard in the Elizian ground ; All things are lawful there that may delight Nature , or unrestrained Appetite , Like , and enjoy , to will , and not his own , We onely sin when Loves Rights are undone ; The Romane Lucrece there heard the divine Lectures of Love , Great Master Aratine , And knows as well as Lais how to move , Her pliant body in the act of Love , To quench the burning Ravisher , she hurls Her limbs into a thousand winding curls , And studies artful policies , such as be Carv'd on the bark of every neighbouring tree , By learned hands , that so adorn the rine Of those fair plants , which as they lye in twine , Have flam'd their glowing fires , the Grecian Dame , That in her endless well sought for a name , As fruitless as her work , doth now display , Her self before the Youth of Ithaca , And the amorous Games of sportful nights prefer Before dull dreams of the lost traveller ; Daphne hath broke her bark , and that swift foot , Which the angry God had fastned to the root , To the fixt earth , doth now unfetter'd run , To meet the imbraces of the youthful Sun , She hangs upon him like the Delphick Lyre , Her kisses blow the old , and breath new fire ; Full of her God , she sings inspired Layes , Soft Odes of Love , such as deserve the Bayes , Which she her self was next her Lawrellies , In Petrarchs learned arms , drying those eyes , Which did in such smooth sweet numbers flow , Which made the world enamour'd of his wo ; These , and ten thousand beauties more that died Slaves to the Tyrant ; now enlarg'd deride His cansell'd Lawes , and for their time mispent , Paying to Love's Exchequer double rent : Come then my Caelia , wee 'l no more forbeare To taste our Joyes struck with a pannick feare , But will depose from his terrestriall sway , This proud usurper , and walke free as they With necks unyoak'd ; Nor is it just that he Should fetter your soft sex with Chastitie , Whom nature made unapt for abstinence , When yet the false imposture can dispence With humane Justice , and with sacred right , And maugre both their laws command me fight With rivalls , or with emmulous Loves , that dare Equall with thine , his Mistris eyes or haire : If thou complaine of wrong , and call my sword To carve but thy revenge ; upon that word , He bids me fight , and kill , or else he brands With mark of infamy my coward hands : And yet Religion bids from blood-shed fly , And damns me for the act ; then tell me why This Goblin Honor , the World so adores , Should make men Athiests , & not women whores . T●a Wench desiring Money . AS fair as she that made two husbands jar , Raising 'twixt Troy & Greece a ten years war As white as feather'd Laeda , great Ioves rape , She that was chang'd into a Swan-like shape : As red as is the Emony , even so bright Wer 't thou my Love , that which the Poets write Of metamo●●hos'd Iove , how oft love changd him , And from his own celestial shape estrang'd him Into an Eagle , or Bull , I fear lest he , Should fr● high Heaven likewise descend on thee . I am not jealous now , my thoughts are vanisht , And the hot ardor of affection banisht ; My fire is cool'd , reason assumes the place , And now methinks thou hast not thine own face ; Dost thou demand why I am chang'd , behold , The cause , I le tell thee , thou dost ask me gold , Thou look'st that for my pleasure I should pay , And that alone still frighteth me away ; Whilst thou wert simple , and in all things kind , I with thy sweet content did like thy mind , Now thou art cuning grown , what has that gaind ? Thy bodies beauty by thy mind is stain'd : Look on the beasts that in the Medows play , Shall women bear more savage minds then they ? What gifts do Kine from the rude Bull enforce ? What rate demands the Mare fro the proud horse ? Or from the Ram the Ewe ? they couple twice , Ere once they do debate upon a price ; Women have learn'd alone to bargain well , Their pleasures born with them alone they sell , Alone they prize the night , and at a rate Chaffer themselvs with strangers ; O vild state ! Alone for mutuall pastime , coyn they crave , And e'r they sport , ask first , What shall I have ? That which delighteth both , to which both run , And ( but by joint assistance ) is not done , The pleasures which on even terms we try , Why should one party sell , the other buy ? Why should the sweets which we alike sustain , To me be double loss , thee double gain ? That which comes freely , much by that we set , Thou giv'st it me , and I am still in debt ; Love that is hir'd , is plainly sold and bought , Thou hast thy price , and then I owe thee nought : Then O ye fair ones , all such thoughts expell , What Nature freely gives you , spare to sell ; Let not your bodies to base lust be lent , Goods lewdly got , are ever loosly spent . A Sonnet . WHy do we love these things which we call women , Which are like feathers , blown in every wind ? Regarding least those men do most esteem them ; And most deceitfull when they seem most kind , And all their Vertue , that their beautie graces , It is but painted , like unto their faces . Their greatest glory is in rich attire , Which is extracted from some hopefull heires , Whose witts and wealth are lent to their desire , When they regard the gifts , more then the givers : And to increase their hopes of future bliss , They 'l sometimes rack their Conscience for a kisse . Some love the windes , that bring in golden showers , And some are meerly won with commendations , Some love and hat● , and all within two houres , And that 's a fault amongst them most in fashion , But put them all within a scale together , Their worth in weight will scarce pull down a feather . And yet I would not discommend them all , If I did know some worth to be in any , 'T is strange , that since the time of Adams fall , That God did make none good , yet made so many : And if he did , for these I truly mourne , Because they dy'de before that I was borne . A Health . TO her whose Beautie doth excell Story , we toss these cups , and sell Sobrietie a Sacrifice To the bright Lustre of her eyes ; Each soul that sips here is devine , Her Beauty Deifies the Wine . Vpon his Mistris cut finger . SWeet-heart , to see thy blood fall down , What Mortall can forbear ? But as thou dropst thy blood oath groun , So he must drop a tear : Good counsel to such wounded Maids , God Cupid thus alledges , Hereafter use such harmless tools , that have no cutting edges . You force the ground you stand on blush , But blushing we permit , Our cheeks could wear a Scarlet Plush , saw we as much as it : Hereafter love those better parts , Nay best of all indeed , Which though they take a thousand wounds , yet scorn they e're to bleed . The Rubies soft in Diamond , Are glorious for to see , But if congeal'd what rarest Jems , Those Ruby drops would be : This wish I to my Mistris bring . And that is all I bring her , Would I had fingred her fine Cut , When she cut her fine finger . LOVE'S Hue and Cry . IN Love's Name you are charg'd hereby , To make a speedy Hue and Cry After a face which th' other day , Came and stole my heart away ; For your proceeding , these in brief , Are some few marks to know the Thief ; Her hair was gold , a field of snow , Smooth and unfurrowed was her brow , A sparkling eye , so pure and gray , As when it smiles , there needs noday ; Ivory dwelleth on her nose , Lilly married to the Rose , Have made her cheek their Nuptial bed , Lips dyed a Vermilian red Make Crimson blush , beside the rest , You shall know this Fellon best By the tongue , for if your ear , Do once a heavenly Musick hear , Such as neither gods nor men , But from that mouth shall hear agen , That , that is she , O take her to ye , None can rock Heaven asleep but she ; I hear have apprehended one , Confederate in the action , And that 's my eye , which did let in , The cunning thief to do the sin , At his window , but for her , My eye shall be a prisoner , Till it the first offender see , That lur'd it to the Felonie ; Your diligence herein I crave , That I again my heart may have ; O take Loves wings , flye , search , or I Shall have no heart to live , but die . Loves Progress by Dr. Don. WHo ever lov'd , if he do not propose The right end , love , he is as one that goes To Sea for nothing but to make him sick , And loves a Bear-whelp born , if we o're-lick Our love , and force it strange new shapes to take , We erre , and of a lump a Monster make . Were not a Calf a monster if 't were grown , Fac'd like a man , though better then his own ; Perfection is in unity , prefer One woman first , and then one thing in her : Or when I value gold , I think upon The ductilness , the application , The whole summes , the ingenuity , From rust , from soyl , from fire ever free ; But if I love , it is because 't is made By our new Natures use , the soul of Trade ; All this in women we might think upon , If women have them , and yet love but one : Can men more injure women then to say , ( they They love them for that by which they are not Make Vertue woman , must I cool my blood , Till I both be and find one wise and good ? May barren Angels love so , but if we Make love to woman , vertue is not she , As beauty is not , he then that strayes thus , From her to hers , is more adulterous Then he that takes her maid , search every sphear , And Fi●mam●nt , our Cupid is not there , He 's an infernal god , and under ground With Pluto dwels , where gold and fire abound , Men to such gods their sacrificing coales Did not on Altars lay , but pits and holes ; Although we see celestial bodies move Above the earth , the earth we till and love ; So we his heirs contemplate , wounds and heart , And vertues , but we love the rendring part ; Nor is the soul more swarthy , nor more fit For love then this , as infinite as it , But in attaining this desired place , How much they stray that set out at the face , The hair a forest is of Ambushes , Of springs , snares , fetters , and of manicles : The brov becalmes us when 't is smooth & plain And when it wrinckles , shipwracks us again , Smooth , 't is a Paradise , where we would have Immortall stay , and wrinckled 't is our grave . The nose like to the first Meridian runs , Not'twixt the East & West , but'twixt two Suns : Her swelling lips , to which when we are come , We Anchor there , and think we are at home , For they seem all the Syrens songs , and there The Delphian Oracles do fill the eare : Then in a creek where chosen pearls do swell , The Remora her charming tongue doth dwell ; These and the glorious promontory her chi● O're-past , and the straight Hellespont between The Cestos and Abidos of her breasts , Not of two Lovers , but two loves the nests , Succeeds a boundless Sea , but that thine eye Some Iland Moles may scatter'd there discry , And sayling towards her India , in the way , Shall at her fair Atlantick navel stay ; Though thence the current be thy Pilot made , Yet er● thou come where thou wouldst be in-laid Thou shalt upon another Forrest set , Where some do shipwrack and no further get , When thou art there , consider in this Chase , What time they lose that set out at the face ; Rather set out below , practise my Art , Some symitry the foot hath with that part , Which thou dost seek , and is a Map for that , Lovely enough to stop , but not stay at ; Least subject to disguise and change it is , Men say the Devil never can change his ; It is the Embleme that hath figured Firmness , 't is the first part that comes to bed ; Civility we see refin'd the kiss , Which at the foot began , transplanted is Since to the hand , then to the imperial knee , Now at the Papal foot delights to be ; If Kings think it the nearest way , and do Rise from the foot , Lovers may do so too , And as free Sphears move faster far then can Birds whom the ayre resists , so may that man Which goes this empty and aetherial way , Then if at beauties Elements h● stay : Rich Nature hath in women wisely made Two purses , and their mouthes aversly laid , They then that to the lower tribute owe , That way which that Exchequer looks must goe , He which doth not , his errour is as great , As who by Clysters gives the stomack meat . On Black eyes by J. D : NO marvel if the Suns bright eye , Showr down hot flames , that quality Still waits on light , but when I see The sparkling Balls of Ebonie , Distill such heat , the gazer straight Stands so amazed at the sight , As when the Lightning makes a breach Through pitchy clouds ; can Lightning reach The Marrow , and not hurt the skin ? Your eyes the same to me have been : Can Jet invite the loving straw With secret fire ? so can they draw , And can when ere they glance a Dart , Make stubble of the strongest heart : Oft when I look , I may descry A little face peep through thine eye ; Sure that 's the boy , that wisely chose , ●is rayes amongst such rayes as those , Which ( if his Quiver chance to fail ) May serve for Darts to kill withall ; If at so strong a charge I yield , If ●ounded so , I quit the Field ; Think me not Coward , when I lye , Thus prostrate with your charming eye ; Did I but say your eye , I swear Death's in your Beauty every where , Your eye night spare it self , my own , ( Wh● n all your parts are truly known ) From ●ny one may filch a Dart , To wound my self , and then my heart , One with a thousand Arrowes fill'd , Cannot say this or that this kill'd , No more can I , yet sure I am , That you are she that wrought the same , Wound me again , yea more and more , So you again will me restore . The Spring . NOw that the winters gone , the earth hath lost Her snow-white robes , and now no more the frost , Candies the grass , or casts an icie cream , Upon the silver Lake or Chrystal stream , But the warm Sun thawes the benummed earth , And makes it tender , gives a second birth To the dead Swallow , wakes in hollow Tree The drowzie Cuckow , and the Humble Bee ; Now do a Quire of chirping Minstrels sing In triumph to the world , the youthful Spring , The valleys , hills , and woods in rich array , Welcome the coming of the long'd for May ; Now all things smile , only my Love doth lower , Nor hath the scalding noon-day-sun the power , To melt the Marble yet , which still doth hold Her heart congealed , and makes her pity cold ; The Oxe which lately did for shelter flye Into the stall , doth now securely lye In open field , and Love no more is made By the fire side , but in the cooler shade ; A●intas now doth by his Cl●r●● sleep , Under a Sycamore , and all things keep Time with the season , onely she doth carry Iune in her eyes , in her heart Ianuary . His Mistris commanding the return of Letters . SO grieves the adventerous Merchant when he throwes , All the long-toil'd-for treasure , his ship stowes Into the angry Mayn , to save from wrack Himself and men , as I grieve to give back These Letters , yet so pow'rful is your sway , As if you bid me die , I must obey ; Go then blest Papers , you shall kiss those hands , That gave you freedom , but held me in bands , Which with a touch did give you life , but I Because I may not touch those hands , must die ; Methinks as if they knew they should be sent Home , to their native soyl , from banishment ; I see them smile , like dying Saints that know , They are to leave the earth & towards he'ven go , When you return , pray tell your soveraign , And mine , I gave you courteous entertain , Each line receiv'd a tear , and then a kiss , First bath'd in that , it scap'd unscorcht in this , I kist it 'cause your fair hand had been there , Because it was not , then I shed a tear ; Tell her , no length of time , nor change of aire , No cruelty , disdain , absence , dispaire , No , nor her stedfast constancy can deterre , My vassal heart from ever honouring her ; Though these be pow'rful arguments to prove I love in vain , yet I must ever love ; Say if she frown when you that word rehearse , ( Service ) in Prose is oft call'd Love in Verse ; Then pray her since I send back on my part Her Papers , she would send me back my heart , If she refuse , warn her to come before The God of Love , whom thus I will implore , Travling in thy Countries rode , great god , I spi'd By chance this Lady , and walkt by her side , From place to place , f●aring no violence , For I was well arm'd , and had made defence In former fights , 'gainst fiercer foes then she , Did at our first encounter seem to be , But going further , every step reveal'd Some hidden weapon , till that time conceal'd , Seeing those outward armes , I did begin , To fear some greater strength was lodg'd within , Looking into her mind , I might survey An host of beauties that in Ambush lay , And won the day before they fought the field , For I unable to refist , did yield ; But the insulting Tyrant foe destroyes , My conquer●d mind , my ease , my peace , my joyes , Breaks my sweet sleeps , invades my harmless rest , Robs me of all the treasure of my breast , Spares not my heart , nor yet ( a greater wrong ) For having stoln my heart , she binds my tongue ; But at the last her melting eyes unseal'd My lips , enlarg'd my tongue , then I reveal'd To her own ears the story of my harmes , Wrought by her vertues and her Beauties charms ; Now hear just judge an act of savageness , When I complain in hope to have redress , She bends her angry brow , and from her eye , Shoots thousand darts , I then well hope 't to dye , But in such soveraign Balm Love dips his shot , That though they wound a heart , they kill it not ; She saw the blood guish forth frō many a wound , Yet fled and left me bleeding on the ground , Nor sought my cure , nor saw me since , 't is true , Absence and time two cunning Leaches drew The flesh together , yet sure though the skin ●e clos'd without , the wound festers within ; Thus hath this cruel Lady us'd a true Servant and subject to her self and you ; Nor know I , great love , if my life be lent , To shew thy mercy or my punishment , Since by the onely Magick of thine Art , A Lover still may live that wants an heart ; If this enditement fright her so as she , Seem willing to return my heart to me , But cannot find it , for perhaps it may , 'Mongst other trifling hearts be out o th' way ; If she repent , and will make me amends , Bid her but send me hers , and we are friends . To his coy Mistris . THink not , 'cause men flattering say , You●r fair as Hellen , fresh as May , Bright as is the morning Star , That you are so , though you are , Be not therefore proud , or deem All men unworthy your esteem , For being so you lose the pleasure Of being fair , for that rich treasure , Of more beauty and sweet feature , Was bestow'd on you by Nature To be enjoy'd , and t were a sin , There to be scarce where she hath bin , So prodigal of her best graces ; Thus common beauties and mean faces , Shall have more pastime and enjoy The sport you lose by being coy ; Did the thing for which I sue , Only concern my self , not you ? Were men so framed as they alone Reap'd all the pleasure , women none , Then had you reason to be scant , But 't were a madness not to grant , That which affords , if you consent , To you the giver more content Then me the begger , O then be Kind to your self , if not to me ; Starve not your self , because you may Thereby make me to pine away , Nor let fading beauty make , You your wiser thoughts forsake , For that lovely face will fail , Beauty's sweet , but beauty's frail , 'T is sooner past , 't is sooner done , Then Summers rain , or winters Sun , Mo●● fleeting , when it is most dear , T is gone while we say ( but ) 't is here ; Those curious locks so aptly twin'd , Whose every hair a soul doth bind , Will change their Aburn hue , and grow , White and cold as Winters snow ; That eye which now is Cupids nest , Will prove his grave , and all the rest Will follow , in the cheek , chin , nose , Nor Lilly shall be found , nor Rose , And what will then become of all , Those whom you now your servants call , Like Swallows when the Summer 's done , They 'l flye and seek some warmer Sun , Then wisely chuse one for your friend , Whose love may ( when your beauties end ) Remain still firm , be provident , And think before the Summer 's spent , Of following Winter , like the Ant , In plenty horod for time of scant , Cull out amongst the multitude Of Lovers that seek to intrude Into your favour , one that may , Love for an age , not for a day , One that will quench your youthful fires , And feed in age your hot desires , For when the storms of time have moved Waves on that cheek which was beloved ; When a fair Ladies face is pin'de , And yellow spread where red once shin'de When beauty , youth , and all sweets leave her , Love may return , but Lover never ; And old folks say there is no paines , Like itch of Love in aged veins ; O love me then , and now begin it , Let 's not lose this present minute , For time and age will work that wrack , Which time or age shall ne'r call back ; The Snake each year fresh skin resumes , And Eagles change their aged plumes ; The faded Rose each Spring receives , A fresh red tincture on her leaves ; But if your beauty once decay , You 'l never know a second May ; O then be wise , and whilst your season , Affords you dayes for sport , do reason , Spend not in vain your lives short hour , But crop in time your Beauties flowre , Which will away , and doth together , Both bud , and fade , and blow , and wither . On age , or an old Face . NO Spring or Summer beauty hath such grace As I have seen in an Autumnall Face ; Young beauties force your love , and to a rape , This doth but councel , yet you cannot scape ; If 't were a shame to love , here 't were no shame , Affection here takes reverences name ; Were her first years the golden Age , that true , But now she 's gold oft tri'd and ever new ; That was her fore-Ides and inflaming time , This is her habitable tropick clime ; Fair eyes , who asks more heat then comes from thence , He in a Feaver wishes Pestilence ; Then call not wrinckles graves , if graves they are , They are Loves graves , or else he lies no where , Yet lies not Love dead here , but here doth sit , Vow'd to this trench like as an Anchorite , And here till hers which must be his death come , He doth not dig a Grave , but build a Tombe ; Here dwels he , though he sojourn every where In brief , yet still his standing house is here ; Here where still evening is , not noon , or ●ight , Where no voluptuousness , yet all delight In all her words ; unto all hearers fit , You may at Revels , you at Councel sit ; This is Loves Timber , youth her under-wood , Wine fires in May , in August comforts blood , Which then comes seasonablest , whe● your taste And appetite to other things are past ; Xerxes strange Lydian love , the Platane Tree Was lov'd for age , none being so old as she , Or else because being young , Nature did bless Her Youth with Ages glory barrenness ; If we love things long sought , Age is a thing , Which we are fifty years in compassing ; If transitory things ( which soon decay ) Age must be loveliest at the latest day , But name not Winter faces , whose skin slack , Lanck , like an unthrifts purse , or a souls sack , Whose eyes seek light within , for all here 's shade , Whose mouths are holes , rather worn out then made Who 's ev'ry tooth t' his several place is gon , To vex their souls at the Resurrection ; Name not those living Deaths-Heads unto me , such I abhor ; I hate extreams , yet I had rather stay With Tombs then Cradles , to wear out a day ; Since such Loves natural action is , may still My love descend , not journey up the hill , Not panting after growing beauties , so I shall be one of those that homewards go . A Maids Denyall . NAy pish , nay pew , nay faith , and will you , fie , A Gentleman and use me thus , yfaith I le cry , Gods body what means this ? nay fie for shame , Nay faith away , nay fy away , introth you are to blame , Hark , sombody comes , leave off I pray , I le pinch , I le scratch , I le spurn , I le go away ; Infaith you strive in vain , you shall not speed , You mar my ruff , you hurt my back , my nose will bleed Look , look , the door is open , sombody sees What will they say , nay fie you hurt my knees ; Your buttons scratch ( O God ) what a coil is here You make me sweat , infaith here 's goodly geere , Nay faith let me intreat you if you list ; You mar my head , you tear my smock , but had I wist So much before , I would have kept you out , Is 't not a pretty thing you went about ; I did not think you would have serv'd me thus , But now I see I took my mark amiss ; A little thing would make me not be friends , You have us'd me well I hope you 'l make amends Hold still , I 'le wipe your face , you swet amain , You have got a goodly thing with all your pain ; O God how hot am , what will you drink ? If you go swetting down what will they think ; Remember this how you have us'd me now , Doubt not ere long but I will meet with you ; If any man but you had us'd me so , Would I have put it up , in faith Sir no ; Nay go not yet , stay here and sup with me , After at Cards we better will agree . A Blush . STay lusty blood , where canst thou se●k , So blest a place as in her cheek ; How canst thou from that place retire , Where beauty doth command desire ; But if thou canst not stay , then flow Down to her panting pap● below ▪ Flow like a Deluge from her breast , Where Venus Swans hath built her n●st , And so take glory to disdaine , With azure blew each swelling vaine , Then run boyling through each part , Till thou hast warm'd her frozen heart ; If from love it would retire , Martyr it with gentle Fire ; And having searcht each secret place , Fly thou back into her face , Where live blest in changing those White Lillies to a Ruddy Rose . To one that was like his Mistris . FAir Copy of my Celia's Face , Twin of my soul , thy perfect grace , Claims in my soul an equal place . Disdain not a divided heart , Though all be hers you shall have part , Love is not ty'd to Rules of Art : For as my soule first to her flew , Yet staid with me , so now 't is true , It 〈…〉 her , though fled to you . Then entertain this wandring guest , And if not love , allow it rest ; It left not , but mistook the nest . Nor think my love , or your fair eyes Cheaper , 'cause from th' Sympathise You hold with her the flames that rise . To Lead , or Brass , or some such bad Mettle , a Princes stamp may add The value that it never had . But to the pure refined Ore , The stamp of Kings imparts no more Worth , then it had before . Onely the Image gives the rate , To Subjects of a Forreign State , 'T is priz'd as much for its own waight . So though all other hearts resign To your pure worth , yet you have mine , Onely because you are her Coyne . On a Fly that flew into Celia's Eye . WHen this Fly liv'd , she us'd to play , In the Sun-shine all the day ; Till comming my in Coelia's sight , She found a new and unknown light , So full of Glory , as it made The noon-day Sun a gloomy shade : Then this amorous Fly became My Rivall , and did court this Flame ; She did from hand to bosom● skip , And from her breath , her cheek and lip , Suckt all the Incense and the Spice , And grew a Bird of Paradice . At last into her eye she flew , There scorcht in Flames , and drown'd in Dew ; Like Phaeton from the Suns bright Sphere She fell , and from her dropt a teare ; Of which a Pearl was straight compos'd , Wherein her Ashes lye inclos'd : Thus she receives from Caelia's eye , Funeral , Flame , Tomb , Obsequye . On the Snow falling on his Mistris breast . I Saw fair Cloris walk alone , When feather'd Rain came softly down ; And Iove descended from his Tower , To court her in a Silver shower : The wanton Snow flew to her breast , Like little Birds unto their Nest ; But overcome with whiteness there , For grief it thaw'd into a teare : Thence fal●●ng to her vestures hemme , To deck her froze into a Iemme . On the drawing his Mistris Picture . SItting , and ready to be drawn , What mean these Velvets , silk , & Lawn , Embroideries , Feathers , Fringes , Lace ? When every limb takes like a face ; Send these suspected helps to ayde , Some form defective , or decay'd ; Thy beauty without falshood faire , Need● nought to cloath it but the aire ; Yet som●thing for the Painters qew , Were fitly enterpos'd for new ; He shall if he can understand , Work mine own fancy with his hand , Draw first a cloud all save her neck , And out of that make day to break , Till like her face it doth appear , That men might think all light rose there Then let the beams thereof disperse The cloud and show the universe ; But at such distance that the eye , May rather ( yet ) ad●re then spy ; The heav'n d●fin●d , draw then a Spring , With all that youth and it can b●ing , Four Rivers branching ( out ) like Seas , And Paradise confining these : Last draw the circle of this Globe , And let there be a starry Robe Of Constellations ●bout it harl'd , And thou hast painted beautise world ; But Painter see thou dost not sell A Copy of this Piece , nor tell Whose 't is , but if it favour finde , Next fitting we will draw her minde . A Pastorall , by T. R. BEhold these Woods , and mark my Sweet How all the boughes together meet ! The Cedar his fair armes displayes , And mixes branches with the Bayes . The lofty Pine deigns to descend , And sturdy Oaks do gently bend ; One with another subt'ly weaves Into one Loom their various leaves , As all ambitious were to be Mine and my Phi●●is Canopie ! Let 's enter , and discourse our Loves ; These are my dear , no tell-tale Groves ! There dwels no Pyes , nor Parots there , To prate again the words they hear : Nor babbling Eccho , that will tell The neighbouring hills one syllable . Being enter'd , let 's together lye , Twin'd like the Zodiacks Gemini ! How soon the Flowers sweeter smell ? And all with emulation swell To be thy pillow ? These for thee Were meant a bed , and thou for me ; And I may with as just esteem Press thee , as thou mayst lye on them . And why so coy ? what dost thou feare ? There lurks no speckled Serpent here : No venemous Snake makes this his road , No Canker , nor the loathsome Toad : And yon poor Spider on the Tree , Thy Spinster will , no poisoner be : There is no Frog to leap , and fright Thee from my arms , and break delight : Nor Snail that o're thy coat shall trace , And leave behind a slimy Lace : This is the hallowed Shrine of Love , No Wasp nor Hornet haunts this Grove ; Nor Pismire to make pimples rise , Upon thy smooth and Ivory thighes : No danger in these shades doth lye , Nothing that wears a sting , but I ; And in it doth no venome dwell , Although perchance it make thee swell . Being set , let 's sport a while my Fair , I will tye Love-knots in thy hair : See Zephirus through the leaves doth stray , And has free liberty to play ; And braid thy locks : And shall I finde Less favour then a sawcie winde ? Now let me sit , and fix my eyes , On thee that art my Paradise : Thou art my all , the Spring remains , In the fair Violets in thy veyns : And that it is a Summers day , Ripe Cherries in thy lips display : And when for Autumn I would seek , 'T is in the Apples of thy cheek : But that which onely moves my smart , Is to see Winter in thy heart : Strange , when at once in one appear , All the four seasons of the year ! I le clasp that neck where should be set A rich and Orient Carkanet : But Swains are poor , admit of then More naturall chains , the arms of men . Come let me touch those brests that swel Like two fair Mountains , and may well Be stil'd the Alpes , but that I fear The Snow has less of whiteness there . But stay ( my Love ) a fault I spie , Why are these two fair Fountains drie ? Which if they run , no Muse would please To taste of any Spring but these ; And Ganimede imploy'd should be , To fetch his Iove Nectar from thee : Thou shalt be Nurse fair Venus swears , To the next Cupid that she bears . Were it not then discreetly done To ope one spring to lett Wo run ? Fy , fy , this Belly , Beauty's mint , Blushes to see no coyn stampt in 't , Employ it then , for though it be Our Wealth , it is your royalty ; And beauty well have cnrrant grace , Lhat bears the Image of yovr face , How to the touch the Ivory thiges , Veil gently , and againe do rise , As pliable to impression , As virgins wax , or parian stone , Dissoly'd to softnesse ; plump , and full , More whire and soft then cotsall wooll , Or Cotten fron from the indian Tree , or prdty silk worms huspifery , These on two marbledellars rais'd , Make me in donpt which should be prais'd ; They , or their Columnes must ; but when I view those feet w●ic● I have seen So nimbly trip it o're the lawns Thrt all the Srtyrs and the fawns Have stood amaz'd , when they would passe Over the layes , and not a grasse Would feel the weight , nor rush , nor bent Drooping betray which way you went , O then I felt my hot desires , Burn more , and flame with double fires , Come let those thighes , those legs , those feet With mine in thousand windings meet ; And woven in more subtle twiens Then woodbine , Ivy , or the vines , For when Love sees us csrcling thus He 'le like no Arbour more then us . Now let us kiss , would you be gone ? Manners at least allows me one . Blush you at this ? pretty one stay , And I will take that kiss away . Thus with a second , and that too A third wipes off ; so will we go To numbers that the stars out-run , And all the Atomes in the Sun : For though we kiss till Phoebus ray Sink in the Seas , and kissing stay , Till his bright beames return again , There can of all but one remain : And if for one good manners call , In one , good manners , grant me all . Are kisses all ? they but fore-run Another duty to be done . What would ●ou of that Minstrell say That tunes his pipes and will not play ? Say what are blossoms in their prime , That ripen not in harvest time ? Or what are buds that ne're disclose The long'd for sweetnesse of the rose ? So kisses to a Lover ; s guest Are invitatiohs ; ●ot the feast , See every thing that we espie Is fruitfull saving you and I : View all the Fields , survey the Bowers , The buds , the blossomes , and the Flowers , And say if they so rich could be In barren base Virginity : Earth's not so coy as you are now , But willingly admits the Plow ; For how had man or beast been fed , If she had kept her Maiden-head ? Coelia once coy , as are the rest , Hangs now a Babe on either breast : And Cloris since a man she took , Has less of greenness in her look : Our Ewes have ean'd , and every Dam , Gives suck unto her tender Lamb : As by these Groves we walkt along , Some Birds were feeding of their young ; Some on their Eggs did brooding sit , Sad that they had not hatch'd them yet ; Those that were slower then the rest , Were busie building of their Nest : You will not onely pay the fine , You vow'd and ow'd to Valentine . As you were angling in the Brook , With silken Line and silver Hook , Through Chrystal streams you might desery How vast and numberless a Fry The Fish had spawnd , that all along The bancks were crowded with the throng ; And shall fair Venus more command By water , then she doth by Land ? The Phoenix chaste , yet when she dies , Her self with her own Ashes lies : But let thy love more wisely thrive , To do the act while th' art alive : 'T is time we left our childish love , That trades for toyes , and now approve Our abler skill ; they are not wise , Look Babies onely in the eyes . That smother'd smile shews what you meant And modest silence gives consent . That which we now prepare , will be Best done in silent secresie : Come do not weep , what is 't you fear ? Lest some should know what we did here . See not a flower you prest is dead , But re-erects his bended head ; That whosoere shall pass this way , Knows not by these where Phillis lay ; And in your fore-head there is none , Can read the act that we have done . Phillis . Poor rediculous and simple Maid ! By what strange wiles art thou betray'd ! A treasure thou hast lost to day , For which thou canst no ransome pay : How black art thou transform'd with sin ? How strange a guilt gnawes me within ? Grief will convert this red to pale , When every Wake and Whitsun-A●e , Shall talk my shame ; break , break sad heart There is no Medicine for my smart , No hearb nor balm can cure my sorrow , Unlsse you meet again to morrow . Two Gentlemen inviting each other to sing . COme with our Voyces let us warre , and challenge all the Spheares , Till each of us be made a Starre , and all the world turn Deares . Mix then our Notes that we may prove , to stay the walking floods , To make the Mountain Quaries move , and call walking the Woods . What need of me , do you but sing , Sleep and the Graves shall wake ; No voyce hath sound , no voyce hath string , but what your lips do make . They say the Angels view each deed , who exercise below , And out of inward passion feed , in what they see or know . Sing we no more then , lest the best of Angels should be driven , To fall again at such a feast , Mistakes Earth for Heaven . Nay , rather let our Notes be strain'd , to meet their high desire ; So they in state of Grace retain'd , shall wish us of their Quire . A Sonnet in praise of Musick . HAil , sacred Musick ! Queen of Souls ! strike hie Inspire me with Poetick Rhapsodie , Else words can't praise thee . Thy Vertue tunes the discord of the Spheares , Charming to it divine and Humane eares , Nor can breath raise thee ! Whose Aires breath a more harmonious winde , Mounting above it self , the heaviest minde , In spight of Nature . Thy ravishing Accents , with holy force , Can 'twixt our Soules and bodies cause divorce , Chear sullenest creature ! Strike but thy Lute with thy more gentle hand , The Nightingale will mute , with listning stand , Charm'd to thy pleasure . And when thy Note but runs division , The very Tree shall dance she sits upon , keep mean and measure ▪ The Palm will dance , the Bay her root forgo The Cedar , Mirtle , Vine will foot it too : When in the midst of all their frolick train , Thou strik'st sad note , they 'r fixt trees again . On Iealousie . WHen you sit musing Lady al alone , Casting up all your cares with private moan Whē your hart bleeds with grief , you are no more Neerer comfort , then you were before ; You cannot mend your state with sighs or cares , Sorrow's no Balsome for distrustful fears : Have you a foe you hate ? wish him no worse A plague or torment then the Yellow curse ; Observe your Lord with nere so strict an eye , You cannot go to piss without a spye ; If but a Mouse do stir about your bed , He startles , and fears he is dishonoured , And when a jealous dream doth cross his pate , Straight he resolves he will be seperate ; Tell me right worthy Cuckolds if you can , What good this folly doth reflect on man ? Are women made more loyal ? Have ye power To guard the tree , that none can pluck the flower Is it within the brain of jealous heads , To banish Lust from Court or Courtly beds : I never knew that base and foul distrust , Made any chast that had a mind to lust ; Nor will it make her honest , who by kind , To loose and vild affections is inclin'd ; Debar her Lord , she to supply his room , Will take a hors-boy , or a Stable-Groom ; Keep her from men of lower rank and place ▪ She 'l kiss the Scullion , & with knaves imbrace , Suspect her faith withall , and all distrust , She 'l buy a Monkey to supply her lust ; Lock her from man and beast , from all content , She 'l make thee Cuckold with an Instrument ; For women are like angry Mastiffs chain'd , They bite at all , when they are all restrain'd ; We may set locks & guards to watch their fire , But have no means to quench their hot desire , Man may as well with cunning go about To quench the Gun his motion , as by doubt To keep a metled woman , if that she Strongly dispose her selfe to Venery . How many thousand women that were Saints , Are now made sinfull by unjust restraints ? How many do commit for very spight , That take small pleasure in that sweet delight ? Some are for malice , some are for mirth unjust , Some kiss for love , and some do love for lust , But if that Fates intend to make me blest , And Hymen bind me to a female brest , ( As yet I thank my starrs I am not tide ; In servile Bonds to any wanton Bride ) Let Cynthia be my Crest , yea let me wear The Cuckolds Badge , if I distrust or fear : It 's told me oft , a smooth and gentle hand , Keeps women more in awe of due command , Then if we put a Quinsel on their Dock , Ride them with Bitts , set on their geer a Lock , For then like furious Colts they strike & fling , But if we slack our Reins , to pleas their will , Kindness will keep them from committing ill : You blessed Creatures hold your female right , Conquer by day , as you orecome by night , And tell the jealous World this from me , Bondage may make you bad , whose minds are free : Had Colatine been jealous , say this more , Without a Rape , Lucrece had been a Whore . A Caveat to his Mistris . BEware fair Maid of Musky Courtiers oaths ; Take heed what gifts & favors you receive , Let not the fading gloss of silken cloathes , Dazzel your vertues , or your fame bereave ; For lose but once the hold you have of grace Who will respect your fortune or your face . Each greedy hand doth strive to catch the flour When none regards the stock it grew upon , Each nature loves the fruit still to devour , And leavs the Tree to grow , or fade alone ; Then this advice fair creature take from me , Let none taste fruit , unless he take the Tree . Take heed lest Caesar doth corrupt thy heart , Or fond Amibition scale thy modesty , Say to a King , thou only courteth Art ; He cannot pardon thy impurity ; For do with one , with a thousand thou'lt turn Whore , Break Ice in one place , and it cracks in more . Do but with King , to Subject thou wilt fall , From Lord to Lackey , and at last to all . An Embleme of Youth , Age , and Death , expressed in a Cherry-stone , on the one side is cut a young Damsel , on the other an old Beldam , The stone Hyeroglifically expresseth Death . FAir Mistris be not over-coy , In entertaining of this toy , The Morall of its pretty Art , D●serves a lodging next your heart , ●or 't is an Emblem ( fairest trust me ) Of what you are now , and what you must be , Except that envious Death prevent , Rich Natures first benigne intent , Then doth the gospel of the Stone , Prove life and death to dwell in one ; For this poor Moddel which you view , Did sometimes wear as rich a hew , As nature gives to any fair , Whilst it grew blushing in the Air , Whose tempting colour , and whose taste , Brought it to what you see at last ; Nay had it hung still on the Tree , It would have prov'd the same you see , Save that the Artists hand alone , For your sake hath his cunning shown ; Then rarest object of my sight , Unfold this three-fold Riddle right , And learn from it , your April years , Bloomes not more fruit of joy then fears , And that your beauty is a treasure By Nature lent you , at whose pleasure You must restore it when she 'l call , And give account for use and all , And that your winter fro●ty dayes , Brings Almond-buds instead of Bayes To crown your temples , and with glory To close the period of your story . If those rich Jems which should have lasted , Have not in your youth been wasted , But ( Prodigal-like ) if thou have spent Natures bo●●ies being but lent , A●d t●en your last of dayes is come , To give you summons to your home , You must with grief return to dust , She will no longer lend on trust , Your beauties Reliques as this Stone , Will be a dry contemned bone ; Perhaps like it some friend vouchsafe , To grave thereon your Epitaph , Which may be read if not neglected , This is the most can be expected . Sir S. Steward . To his Lady . SO may my Verses pleasing be , So may you laugh at them ; and not at me , 'T is something to you I would gladly say , But how to do it , cannot find the way ; I would avoid the common trodden wayes , To Ladies us'd , which be of Love or praise , As for the first , that little wit I have , Is not yet grown so neer unto the ●rave , But that I can by that dim fading light , Perceive of what , and unto whom I write , Let such as in a hopeless , witless rage , Can sigh a Quire , and read it to a Page ; Such as can make ten Sonnets ere they rest , When each is but a great blot at the best , Such as can backs of books and windows fill , With their too furious Diamond or Quill , Such as are well resolved to end their dayes , With a lowd laughter blown beyond the Seas ; Such as are mortified , that they can live , Laught at by all the world , and yet forgive : Wright love to you I would not willingly , Be pointed at in every company , As was the little Taylor , who till death , Was great in love with Queen Elizabeth ; And for the last in all my idle dayes , ● never yet did living woman praise , ●n Verse or Prose , And when I do begin , ●le pick some woman out as full of sin , ●s you are full of Vertue , with a soul , ●s black as yours is white , a face as foul ●s yours is beautifull ; for it shall be ●ut of the Rules of Phisiognomie ; ●o far , that I do fear I must displace the Art a little , to let in the face ; ● shall at least four faces be below the Devils ; and her parched corps shall show , ●n her loose skin , as if some spirit she were , K●pt in a bag by some great Conjurer ; Her breath shall be so horrible and vild , As every word you speak is meet and mild , It shall be such a one as will not be , Covered with any Art or Policie , But let her take all waters , fumes , and drink , She shall make nothing but a dearer stink , She shall have such a foot , and such a nose , As will not stand in any thing but Prose ; If I bestow my praises upon such , 'T is Charity , and I shall merit much ; My praise will come to her like a full bowl , Bestowed at most need on a thirsty soul ; Where if I sing your praises in my Rime , I loose my Ink , my paper , and my ti●● , Adde nothing to your overflowing store , And tel you nought but what you knew before Nor do the vertuous minded ( which I swear Madam I think you are ) endure to hear Their own perfections into question brought , But stop their ears at them , for if I thought , You took a pride to have your vertues known , Pardon me Madam , I should think them none ▪ But if you brave thoghts ( which I must respect Above your glorious Titles ) shall accept These harsh disordered Lines , I shall ere long , Dress up your vertues new in a new Song , Yet farre from all base praise or flattery , Although I know what ere my Verses be , They will like the most servile flattery shew , If I write truth , and make my subject you . A Description of a wisht Mistris . NOt that I wish my Mistris , Or more or less then what she is Write I ●●ese Lines , for 't is too late , ●ules to prescribe unto my Fate : ●ut as those tender stomacks call , ●or some choice meats that like not all ; ●o queafie Lovers do impart , What Mistris 't is must take their heart : First I would have her richly sped , With Natures blossomes white and red , For flaming hearts will quickly dye , That have no fewell from the eye ; Yet this alone will never win , Unless some treasure lye within ; For where the spoil 's not worthy stay , Men raise the Siege and march away : She should be wise enough to know , When , and to whom a grace to show , For she that doth at randome chuse , Will sure her choyse as well refuse ; And yet methinks I 'd have her mind , To loving courtesie inclin'd , And tender-hearted as a Maid , And pitty only when I pray'd : And I would wish her true to be , Mistake me not , I mean to me , She that loves one , and loves one more , Will love the Kingdome , ore and ore ▪ I could wish her full of wit , So she knew how to huswife it ; But she whose insolence makes her dare To try her wit , will sell her Ware . Some other things delight will bring , As if she dance , or play , or sing ; If hers be safe , what though her parts , Catch then a thousand forreign hearts ? But let me see , should she be proud , A little pride must be allow'd ? Each amourous boy will sport & prate Too freely , if she find no state ? I care not much though I set down , Sometime a chiding , or a frown : Eut if she wholly quench desire , 'T is hard to kindle a new fire : To smile , to toy , is not amiss , Sometimes to enterpose a kiss , But not cloy , sweet things are good , And pleasant , but are nought for food ▪ But stay , Nature hath overcaught my Art In her , to whom I offer up my heart , And evening-passengers shall sooner trace , The wantō beams that dance on Thames smooth face Or find the track where once the fowl did stray Or the moist sands which tides have washt away Then ere my heart be sound with taint or spot , So a revolt of hers procure it not . Ad Amicum . THou art the Spring , & I the leaveless Tree , Thou art the flower , and I the toyling Bee ; Thou art the Flax , and I the kindling fire , I your disdain , but you my hearts desire : You are the Bride which doth ingage my brest , My thoughts in yours , though yours elsewhere do rest : Say that I rest my lips upon thy cheek , A wearied love some place of rest must seek , No pillow softer then those cheeks of thine , No wearied love more wearied is then mine : Then be not coy to answer what I require , You need not blush at what I do defire , Say that your love doth some way else incline , Yet I am yours , though you will not be mine . The Question of a Lady that was newly wedded . A Lady that of late did wed , Not knowing sports of Marriage bed , Askt of her Husband which he thought most right For Marriage sports , the morning or the night , He answer'd as he did think most meet , The day more holsom but the night most sweet If it be so , quoth she , and we have leasure , We 'l to 't i th' day for health , all night for pleasure Dr. Dun's Answer to a Lady . Lady . SAy not you love unless you do , For lying will not honour you . Answer of the Doctors . Lady I love , and love to do , And will not love unless be you . You say I lye , I say you lye , choose whether , But if we both lye , let us lye together . Of his estate with Love . THe more I seek to find the depth of Love , The more I find my self to seck therein ; For when I thought the fruit thereof to prove , I was methought , as when I did begin ; In Love and Vertue wise men wisely say , The more a man doth go , the more he may . For as it comes at first , I know not how , So doth it bring at lenghth I know not what ; And when we stand as tho we would not bow , Then doth it break our force , and ●ast us flat ; And making us to run an endless course , Oft seems to mend , but waxeth wors & wors . Some lay the fault in Love , and som again In them that love , I mean the women kind , I have just cause with others to complain , But to complain I never had the mind ; For what doth it avail me to complain , If my complaint may not release my pain . When I complain aright , she takes it ill , And for amends she answers me no force , When I complain amiss , she rageth still , And for amends , she makes it ever worse , I find no fault in her I may excuse , 'T is my ill luck that she doth ●e refuse . Which maketh me uncertain what , or how , To say or think of me , or of my Love , I saw before , with grief I see it now , 'T is labour lo●t , her setled mind to move ; Though she make more of me , then of the most I count but ill , that count without my ●lost . Then I deserve , she doth a great deal more , And yet a great deal less then I desire , Would God she kept her courteous deeds in store So that her self with love were set on fire : Her deeds are such , as I may not complain , It is her heart that puts my heart to pain . She doth to me that which to all she must , And yet as though it were to me alone , Her best she layes up for her best betrust , Who is her all in all , and yet but one : In love and vertue wise men wisely say , The more we spend , stil spend the more we may Thus do I feed on leaves instead of fruit , Instead of bodies , shadows me content , In my account , Cyphers for Numbers go , My feasting Christmas is a fasting Lent : And yet no wrong , for my desert is small , And all the world is subject to her call . When he had written this , she read it , and said , that he writ it more to shew his wit , then for any good will , whereupon he thus replyed . BUt what do I in vain my paper spend , without al hope against the stream to move Needs must I end , although I know no end , If not to love , yet for to speak of Love , She says that this , she says that all I writ , was nothing else but for to shew my wit . And would to God my wit did shew no more , Then I delight to shew my wit therein , It were more wit to keep my love in store , Then utter all , when none of hers is seen ; Mine is so much , she keeps her own in store , If mine were less , her own would be the more To his Love upon complaint of the uncertainty of his estate : She answered him , that he should never have cause to repent . MY heart the Ship , that was tost to & fro , By winds of fear , by waves of deep despair In certian course , uncertain what to do , Or how to find the weather ever fair , At length is got into the Port of rest , To wit , his only best beloved brest . And knit with faith , as with a Cable Rope , Which wil not shrink , though all the world do fail , Unto the Anchor of undoubted hope , In hope at length with wind and tide to sail ; He careth not though winds do blow abroad So he may find his harbour in the road . A small assurance more contents the mind , The greater hope of greater hope to come , That which is loose , you may with ease unwind The way to all , is to be sure of some , Which sith you grant , I hold my self content , With that you say , I never shall repent . He that hopes you said of him ●s you meant , That he never should have cause to repent . To his Love when she said that her love was a burthen unto him . MY Love , why dost thou think thy love a burthen unto me , I never felt a thing so light , as it doth seem to be , Or if thy love a bu●then be , as thou dost say my dear , Why thinkst thou me unable , or unwilling it to bear , It is no burthen for to have , but for to want thy love , From which I do not , cannot , ought not , will not me remove : The love is light , and doth delight , that hath the greatest part : The love is heavy that is least , and makes a heavy heart ; Then if thy love a burthen be , as thou dost seem to say , Think that it never troubles me , but when it goes away . To his Mistris on New-years-day . TO give a Gift , where all the Gifts of God so much abound , What is it else but even to adde , a penny to a pound ? To wish you years , though they be New , which yet may make you old , What is it , but to wish you years of silver for your Gold ? Yet do I send a simple Gift , to shew my great good will , And wish withall that all your years be new and happy still . To a Friend , on the word Wife . THe W. is double wo , the I. nought else bu● Jealousie , The F. is fawning flattery , the E. what else bu● enmity : If in the Name there be such strife , Then God defend me from a Wife . Vpon a Merchant . THere was a man , and he was semper idem , And to be brief he was mercator quidem , He had a wife was neither tall nor brevis , Yet in her carriage was accounted levis , He to content her gave her all things satis , She to requite him made him Cuckold gratis . Ti his Love upon New-years Even , when they were upon parting . IF you will leave me , leave me , dear , Or now or never with the Year , For now the Year is at an end , And now each friend renews his friend , And now the date of love expires , And now the time truth requires , And now your friends envy at me , And now it must or never be . If you do mean to love me , dear , Begin to morrow with the year , For then doth love it self renew , And every friend perform his due , Then to and fro the Gifts are sent , And paid as if it were for rent , And then of friends the most we make , Another Lease of Love to take . If you will neither leave , nor love , As by conjecture I can prove ; You do me wrong to hold me on , You wrong your self to care for none ; You wrong the face that God you gave , You wrong the other gifts you have , And in revenge of this your wrong , Shall love I hope , and lack as long : Wherefore or love , or leave me , dear , Or now , or never , with the Year , To his Heart . MY Heart why dost thou bodily fear , that thou dost love in vain ? Why dost thou fear that gentle meanes , will make thee live in pain ? What though thy Love did never care , for wearing of a man ? What though more craft lurk in her breast , then she dissemble can ? Thy choice is good , thy love is great , thy faith is true as steel : She 's wise , what wilt thou more ? why dost thou fear before thou feel ? The Hearts Answer . ALas , what should I do but fear , how I may be secure ? Of that which none could yet come neer ▪ how may poor I be sure ? What though I have the name to be , the greatest in her books ? What though she feed me once a day , even with her kindest looks ? Her choyce is past , her love bestowed , hear faith no faith can move , ● most unworthy ; shall I hope to gain so good a love ? A Reply to his Heart . MY heart why dost thou reason thus , According to thy sense ? Why dost thou make an evill cause , the worse be thy defence ? What though her choice be past ? her love bestowed , her faith too true , What though thou most unworthy be , to such a one to sue ? In choyce is change , in love mislike , faith used ill may faile . Full many speed unworthily , why should'st thou strike the sayle . The Hearts Answer . ALas , to reason for my self , is but to breed my bane , And to be proud of mine estate , when I am in the wane . What though in choice , in love , in faith , we many changes see ? What though in my unworthiness , she may esteem of me ? Such choice is chance , such love is light , such faith is also frail , And they that speed unworthily , unworthily may fail . Of Love . WHat thing is love ? the worst & yet the be●● , A world of cares , and yet a mart of toyes , A sea of dangers , yet the Haven of rest , A hell of torments , yet a Heaven of joyes , A world , a sea , a hell to tender hearts , A Mart , a Haven , a heaven to ease their smarts How doth it come ? that way it seemeth least , It fisheth here , and hangeth there a bait , It hoisteth say I when it doth Anchor cast , And strikes Alarm when it sounds retreat , And when we think we have it at the bay , We may be sure it steals another way . What are the works of love ? more neat then fit For any use , and more in skill then proof , The fine conceits of every finest wit , Of greater ca●● and ●●bour then behoof , Much lik● 〈◊〉 sh●t Spiders weave on hie Which have no use but even to catch a Flie . W●at is the end of Love ? still to begin , And not to have or sight , or hope of end , About a little to be long , and in An endless suit , a thankless time to spend ; Much like the wheel that turning ever round Doth run apace , and yet can get no ground . When he was to go into the Countrey . ANd must I go , from whom ? what shall I say ? From hope , from health , from love , from life , from all , Tha● was , or is , or may be any way , My greatest comfort in each kind of thrall , And that beyond the Seas into an I le , Where from my joyes I must my self exile . What though my native Country be the place ? What though it be to see my Father dear ? What though it be my Mother to imbrace ? And take her blessing for this whole two year ? What though it were 10000. friends to see , ●0000 . times this one more pleaseth me . To his only one when he was in the Country . LEt fools beleeve that absence cureth love ▪ Or cools the heart , that eye hath set on fire , I see , I see , the farther I remove , The farther off I am from my desire ; And find too well the wound I took by sigh● Is nothing less , but rather more by flight ▪ For thogh mine eye did daily wound my hear● Yet did I see withall thy lovely face , No● every thought gives caus of greater smar● Because I want the hope of wonted grace , The only thing wherein I now delight , Is that thou dost to me so kindly write . If thou didst know what pleasure I do take ▪ In every line that thou dost write to me , How I do scan each letter for thy sake , To pick what kindness I may out of thee : I know that thou wouldst write once a week to me ▪ In reading thine , methinks I talk with thee . To her again . HOw far ? how long am I , and shall I be From that sweet soul , whose looks doe feed mine eye ? How far ? how long shal she be kept from me , In whom , with whom , to whom I live and dy ? For place , I take each step a mile to be , For time each hour doth seem a year to me . Methinks the Sun doth greater leisure take , Then he was wont , to linger out the day , Methinks he goes , as if his legs did ake , And time it self doth make no haste away , If I might rule the Chariot of the Sun , I would be bound to make it night at noon . But be I far ; or be I long from thee , I am thine own , and thine alone my dear , No ●ime , no place shall change or alter me , Though steps were miles , & every hour a year ; Perswade thy self that I am with thee still , Though I be here , in part , against my will ▪ When she told him she loved as well as he . AS well as I ? too good for to be true , As well as I ? too sweet for to be sure , As well as I ? a speech too kind for you , As well as I ? too sudden to endure : As well as I ? As well as I , I say ; I ask no more , I wish no fairer play . As well as I ? then must you change your vain , And watch your times to make your love be seen , As well as I ? then must you leave disdain , And shew your self more kind then you have been : As well as I ? As well as I , I say , I ask no more ▪ I wish no fairer play . As well as I ? then will I strive to do More then I can , to make you do as much , As well as I ? then will I be to you , More then I am , to make you to be such : As well as I ? As well as I , I say , I ask no more , I wish no fairer play . To his Love . IF any be content with words , 't is I , If any not content with deeds , 't is you ; If any fear your tongues like swords , 't is I , If any vex the heart that bleeds , 't is you : 't is you and I that make these sayings true , Disdained I , and most disdainfull you . If any man do live by looks , 't is I , If any woman loves by fits , 't is you ; If any leave for love his books , 't is I , If any bats the edge of wits , 't is you : 'T is you and I that make these sayings true , Unhappy I , and more then happy you . If any strive against the stream , 't is I , With wind and tide , if any go , 't is you If any be more then they seem , 't is I , If any think less then they know , 't is you : 'T is you and I that make these sayings true , Unfeigning I , and deep dissembling you . If any pluck for prime , and miss , 't is I , If any pluck for flush , and hit , 't is you , When colour holds , if any loose , 't is I , By contraries , if any get , 't is you . 'T is you , to whom all gains prove for the best 'T is I that on all gains do loose my rest . A Fancie of Love . THe Sun had run his race , and now began His Steeds to water in the Western Seas , When suddenly the sky waxt pale and wan , And night drew on the time of rest and ease : I lay me down to take my sleep in bed , And lo what fancies came into my head . Fast by my side there seemed one to stand , I know not how possest on every part , Possest on either foot , on either hand , Possest on head , but most possest on heart ; Ladies they seem'd , that did divide him so , And still at odds both draw him to and fro . I sigh to think , how I did sigh in sleep , And full of pitty , pittied his estate , I scarce can hold to think how he did weep , And make complaint of his unhappy fate ; Yet went I on to see what Dames they were , That did the silly soul in pieces tear . Upon his heart , his tender heart I saw , Love like a Prince sit in a Chair of State , Under her feet lay all his thoughts in awe , Not daring once their case for to debate ; The reason was , reason it self was fled , And scarce did hold a corner of the head . Upon this head did foolish fancy sit , Devising toyes his Mistris mind to move , I never saw the like conceits of wit , As thence were sent to get his Mistris love : And though he sent unto her more and more He never sent the same he sent before . On either hand did sit a modest Dame , One on the left , another on the right , One called Hope , the other Faith by name , Too constant both for love that was but light ; Yet winged both , as if they would aspire , Faith with desert , and Hope with hot desire . Upon his feet two spitefull ones did sit , To weigh him down , & nail him to the ground To clog his hope , his faith , his love his wit , From getting her to whom he would be bound To wit , distrust , that hindred faith to flye , Despair , that hindred hope to mount on hye . While I stood musing at his wofull case , She passed by that puts him to this pain , It grieved me to see so sweet a face , To bear a hand so armed with disdain , And as his faith began to plead desart , With her disdain , she thrust him through the heart . Do I say him ? I feel my self her hand , This very wound doth drive my dream away , Well may I dream that others by me stand , But when I wake , I must the person play : Well may I dream this deed by others true , But when I wake , it can be none but you . When he knew not how to please her . IF any man an endless maze do tread , Where neither in nor out he finds the way , If any's fancy be by reason lead , To one that doth both dally and delay , If any Anchor cast in careless Cost , 'T is only I that study to be lost . My wit is snar'd within a Serpents head , Where there are many turnings to and fro , My foolish heart is yet with reason led , To think it reason that it should be so : And I my self , I grant , do study most Conceits of wit , by which I may be lost . What will you have me do ? what will you not ? Shal I be yours ? not so , mine own ? nor so ? Go I away , I have a new love got , Stay I , what get I , but but in faith Sir no ? Wish I your love , you say I wish no reason , Touch I you brest , you say I offer treason . How will you have me to behave me then ? Not yours , and yet but yours I may not be , As touching , so not touching doth offend , Go I , or stay I , there is fault in me , Yet must I still in this or that offend , Untill you tell how I may both amend . In truth . INn truth sometime it was a sweet conceit , To think how Truth & Love did live together But now in truth there is so much deceit , That truth indeed is gone I know not whither ; Yet liveth truth , and hath its secret Love , And Love in Truth deserves to be regarded ; And Love regard in conscience doth approve , Approved truth can never be discarded : Then try me first , and if that true you prove me ▪ In truth you wrong me , if you do not love me . Vpon a Discourtesie . CLose up thy lids mine eye , thy leaves mine eare , Put up thy pipes my tongu , thy stripes my heart Head hide thy self , wit leave thy fancies dear , Hand , let thy pen no more it self impart ; For when eye sees , ear hears , heart feels disdain How may I speak , or write , or think but pain . Head akes with casting fancies in his mold , Hand shakes with setting of these fancies down Hart quaks to think that love shud wax so cold And each part takes my wrong to be his own ; But yet since you in them do me forsake , 'T is I , not they that ake , that shake , that quake . My aking head can dream of nothing now , But Agonies of a perplexed mind , My shaking hand can write down nothing now But fitts of Agues , shaking in their kind . My quaking heart doth pant within my breast That so great love should find so little rest . Vpon May-Day . THis morning did I dream of merry May , How I did rise , and forth a Maying go , To take the pleasure of the pleasant day , In which we may without all fear of no ; Methought into a Park of Dear I came , A pleasant place , and full of pleasing game . A goodly pale it had about it round , As even as Art could make , or Nature bear , Which did set forth the goodness of the ground And compass in the hasty flying Dear , The Gate was made with clasp of silver fast , Where few or none without great favor past . The froward Keeper did deny me way , And askt me , how I durst to come so neer ? Since it is May said I , I trust I may Come in and out , so that I steal no Dear : No , no , said he , go May it other where , Though it be May , you may not May it here ▪ With that I stood aloof the Park to view , And over pale the pleasures to behold , Where I perceiv'd a Lawn of perfect hew , Which did abound in pleasures manifold , Above the which a goodly hill there stood , Upon the which , there grew a goodly wood . Within the Gate I did a Cave espye , Whence of sweet breath there blew a pleasant wind , Happy were he that at the mouth might lye , To cool his heart , when hot he doth it find : Yet farther in methought there did appear ; Two lively Springs , as any Chrystal clear . What kind of Dear it held , I need not tell , It nothing held , that is not holden dear , Each thing it held , became the Park so well , It grieved me that I could not come neer : But wo is me that in this pleasant ground , Beauty should be the Dear , & love the Hound . Of his Love , upon his purpose to travell . AS vertuous men passe mild away , And wisper to their souls to go , While some of their sad friends do say , Now his breath goes , and some say no : So let us melt , and make no noise , Nor tear flouds , nor sigh tempests move , 'T were profanation of our joyes , To tell the Laity of our Love ; Movings of th'earth cause harms and fear , Men reck on what they did , and meant , But trepidations of the Sphere , Though greater far , are innocent : Dull sublunary Lovers love , Whose soul is sense , cannot admit Absence , because it doth remove Those things , which elemented it . But we , by love so much refin'd , That our souls know not what it is , Enter assured of the mind , Careless , eyes , lips , and hands do miss : Our two souls therefore which are one , Though I must go● endure not yet A breach , but an expansion , As gold to airy thinness beat . If they be two , they are two so , as stiff-●wind Compasses are two . Thy soul , the fixt foot makes no shoo● to move , yet doth , if th'other doe : And though it in the Centre sit , yet while the other far doth rome , It leanes and hearkens after it , and growes erect , as that comes home . Such then be thou to me , who must , like th'other foot obliquelie run : Thy firmness draws my circle just , and makes me End where I begun . J. Dun. To his Mistris of Love and Hate . TAke heed of loving mee , at least remember I forbade it thee ; Not that I shall repair m●unthrifty waste of breath and blood , upon thy sighs and tears , And so recover my lost soul at last : for so great joy my life at once out-weares , Then least thy love by my death frustate be , If thou love me , take heed of loving me . Take heed of Hating me . Or too much triumph in thy Victorie ; Not that I shall be mine own Officer , and Hate with Hate again Retaliate : But thou wilt looose the name of Conquerar , if I thy conquest perish by thy hate . Then least my being nothing , lessen thee , if thou hate me , take heed of hating me . Yet Love and Hate me ●oo ; So these Extreams shall neithers Office doe Love me that I may dye the gentle way : Hate me , because thy Love 's too great for me , Or let these two themselves , not me decay : So shall I live thy Stage , not triumph be : Then least thy Love , hate , and me thou undo , O let me live , O Love , and Hate me too . His Dyet . TO what a cumbersom unwealdiness , And burd●nous corpulence my love had grown But that I did to make it less , And keep it in proportion , Give it a Dyet , made it feed upon , That , which love worst endures , discretion . Above one sigh a day I allow'd him not , Of which my fortune , and my faults had part , And if sometimes by stealth hegot , A she-sigh from my Mistris heart ; And though to feast on that , I let him see ▪ 'T was neither very sound , nor want to me , If he wrung from me a tear , I burnt it so With scorn or shame , that him it nourisht not , If he suckt hers , I let him know , 'T was not a tear which he had got , His drink was counterfeit , as was his meat , For eyes that roul towards all , weep not , but sweat . What ever he would distaste , I wrote that , But burnt my Letters , if she writ to me , and that favour that made him fat , I said , if any little be Convey'd by this , ah , what doth it avail , To be the fortieth name in an entail . Thus I reclaim'd my Buzzard love to flye , At what , and when , and how , & where I chuse , Now negligent of sport I lye , And now as other Faulkners use , I spring a Mistris , swear , write , sigh , and weep , And the game kil'd , or lost , go talk , or sleep . Against Marriage . THere never lived that married woman yet , 〈◊〉 truly could commend the wives estate Though some perhaps in modsty and wit , Wil rather prais't , then shew their grief too late This Marriage is a field of discontents , All over-grown with a confused h●ap Of wrongs , cares , and many ill events , Which Husbands sowe , but Wives are forc'd to reap . Or like a prison with a painted door , Which passengers suppose a Princely place ; But entred in , they do repent full sore , Their former errour , and their present case : O Maids beware of this Tolossa gold , 'T is fair in shew , but ruine doth infold . Against Melancholy . GO damned Melancholy , get thee hence , Thou hell-bred fury , torment of the mind , Weakner of wit , abuser of the sence , Within whose bounds al mischiefs are confin'd Thou sullen sin , souls torture day and night , Health-killing humour , Harbinger of Death , Grave to content , darkner of beauties light , Unto all good thou art the floud of Leath ; A waking dream , a spur to jealousie ; A fond conveyer of a thousand toyes ; The ready path which leads to Lunacie , Is this bereaver of our earthly joyes : The Gods , I think , when we deserv their curse , Inflict this plague , because there is no worse . Dr. Iohn Dun's Will . BEfore I sigh my last gasp , let me breathe ( Greet Love ) some Legacies . Here I bequeath Mine Eyes to Argus , if mine eyes can see ; If they be blinde , then Love I give them thee ; My tongue to Fame ; t' Ambassadores mine ears ; to Women , or the Sea , my tears ; Thou Love hast taught me heretofore , By making me serve her wh'ad twenty more , That I should give to none but such , as had too much before . My Constancy I to the Plannets give , My truth to them , who at the Court do live , Mine Ingenuitie and openness To Iesuites , to Buffocns my pensiveness ; My silence t' any , who abroad have bin ; my Money to a Capuchin . Thou , Love , taughts me , b' appointing me , To love there , where no Love receiv'd could be , Onely to give to such as have an incapa●●● I give my R●putation to those That were my Friends ; my 〈…〉 To School-men I be queath my 〈…〉 My Sickness to Physitions , 〈◊〉 Excti●● To Nature all that I in Rime have writ , and to my company , my wit . Thou , Love , by making me adore Her , who begot this love in me before , Taughts me to make , as though I gave , when I did but restore . To him , for whom the Passing Bell next towles , I give my Physick Books ; my written rowles , Of morall Counsails , I to Bedlam give : My brazen Meddalls unto them , which live In want of bread ; to them which passe among all Forreiners , mine English tongue . Thou Love , by making me Love one , Who thinks her friendship a fit portion For younger Loves , dost all my gifts thus disproportion . Therefore I le give no more , but I 'le undoe The world by dying , because Love dyes too : Then all your beauties will be no more worth Then gold in Mynes , where none doth draw it forth . And all your graces no more use shall have , than a Sundyall in a Grave , Thou Love taughtst me , by making me Love her , who doth neglect both me and thee . T'intent and Practise this one way t' annihilate all three . J. D. Elegies by Mr. W. M. An Elegie on a Sexton . I Many Grave have made , but enjoy'd none , This which I made not , I possest alone ; Each Corps without embalming it did serve , My life like precious Mummy to preserve ; Death , which then kind , now cruel found I have Rob'd me of life , which me my living gave ; No , Death is still more kind , for in the Grave Where once I labour had , now rest I have ; I made good use of time , and night and day , Had eare and heed how the hour did rass away ; I still was ready for a Grave , nor shall Grive at what most I joy'd , a Funerall : As I was wont , though not so soon as then , Out of the Grave I shall come forth agen . On a Scrivener . HEre to a period is the Scrivener come , This is his last sheet , his ful point , his Tomb Of all Aspersions I excuse him not , 'T is plain he liv'd not without many a blot , Yet he no ill example shew'd to any , But rather gave good Copies unto many ; He in good Letters had been alwayes bred , And hath writ more then many men have read ; He Rulers had at his command by Law , Although he could not hang , yet he could draw His force more bondmen had & made then any , A dash alone of his Pen ruin'd many , That not without great reason we may call , His Letter great , or little Capitall , Yet 't is the Scriveners fault , as sure as just , When he hath all done , then he turns to dust . An Elegie on a Barber . HEre 's a mad ' Shaver laid , a cutting Lad , That many trim feats , and som bald ones had ; His actions were but barbarous , and he More poling was then Pettifoggers be , And if his fingers lookt unto were not , Twenty to one , but he would cut your throat , But he that is not hair-brain'd needs not fear , Maugre bald luck by him to lose an hair : I wonder then he dy'd that liv'd alone , By excrements , hair , which can nourish none . Such an hard workman we might hardly spar ▪ This accident fell out against the hair , Since in deaths Empire , of a barbar's trade , ( For dead mens hair doth grow ) might use be made Death takes and soundly payes him , how soere , Here yet is left his equalls to an hair . An Elegie on a Mason . SO long the Mason wrought on others walls , That his own house of clay to ruine falls , Which shall be new built and repair'd alone , When heaven and earth have dissolution ; He alwayes kept his actions within square , None of his doings but were regular ; He had a Trull , and that was vitious , And climing high , he seem'd ambitious ; Though much of him , yet truly said might be , No Lay-man did more edifie then he ; By laying Lime , he caught much foul , and none Took with a hook more pain then he had done No marvel spightful death wrought his annoy , He sought to build , and death seeks to destroy . On a Trumpeter . IF that Fames Trumpet shall not speak thy worth , Yet thou a Trumpet hadst to set it forth , I thoght at last thou wuldst fal dead to ground Having been long accustomed to sound ; Thou wer 't too much puft up long time to last , Needs must he dye whose life is but a blast ; Thee a sound fellow we did alwayes find , Or thou like him that 's with the Collick pin'd Preservd'st thy life by letting forth of wind ; Camelian-like of ayre thou hadst thy food , And 't was a bad wind did blow thee no good ; Rob'd of thy windpipes once by cruel Death , For want of breath thou dyd'st that liv'st by breath . Pack up thy Pipes , here silent rest , till when , A Trumpets sound make thee to live agen . An Elegie on a Sailour . NOw on dry land the Sailor he doth rest Aborad , here seeming cabin'd in a Chest , The frail bark of 's life , which strange did sound For want of wind , not water , here 's aground . 'T is known some time a Landed man he was , But had of late gone down the winde apace : His life was fleeting and unstaid ; but Death Made him a Grave-man , and him setled hath . He could not but remember he must die , That had his Shrowd each day before his eye , Needs must his Corps long incorrupt abide , Which seem'd inbalm'd with Pitch before he dide . An Elegie on a Hunter . HEre lies a dogged fellow , who hath run Out all his time , & now his course is don ; A running head he had , and did not scorne , Though it did sound abroad , to wear the horn . His course so open was , that whosoere Observ'd it , soon might have him at a Hare . He could not hunt thrift , yet his trace shal stand He kept his Leases , though he sold his Land . He cannot leave his lying , though he die , For he being dead , yet in his grave doth lye . Lament his losse , that like a Hunter , he Brought to his Grave , with a great cry might be . An Elegie on a Tinker . SIx foot at last , the wandring Tinker bound , He silent rests , whose acts once loud did sound At handy-stroakes he did no Valour lack , Stout fellow that was metled at the back . It seems a perfect Alchymist he was , For into Silver he did turn his Brass . 'T is like he spake to purpose what he said , For he still strook the Nail upon the head . He made two holes , while he did mend one hole , And did his work by piece , and not the whole ; Often in Latine he would men beguile , And yet speak nought but English all the while . His Nose and Forehead , each a brazen one , Carried the badge of his Occupation : Yet had he not so soon come to an end , T'had better been , for he each day did mend . An Elegie on a Smith . FArewell stowt Iron-side , not all thy Art Could make a shield against Deaths envious dart . Without a fault , no man his life doth pass , And to his Vice the Smith addicted was . He oft ( as Choller is en creast by fire ) Was in his fumes , and much inclin'd to ire , He had been long so us'd to forge , that he Was with a black Cole markt for Forgery ; But he for whiteness needed not to care , H'ad but a Black-smith bin , though ne'r so fair . Pragmaticall he seem'd by his desire , Still to have many Irons in the fire ; And opportunities he lacked not , That knew to strike then when the Irons hot ; As the door nails ho made he 's now as dead , He them , & him hath Death knockt in the head An Elegie on Squire Bug a Shooemaker . HE that hath made so many souls of late , Now wants a soul himself to animate , That he so wrung them , many did compalin , But at the last he gave them ease again : He sometimes did work booty for his frieads , And whom soe'r he serv'd , wrought his own ends ; But if to take the length of others foot Shew cunning , none knew better how to do 't : He kept the old worlds custome , by his trade Reviv'd , for he of Leather Money made ; The Leather lessen'd him to drink , which nere Approved was , till it well Liquor'd were ; He well observ'd how he his life did spend , Who saw each day that he was neer his end ; His death might welcome be to those that use , ( Being bare themselvs ) to gape for dead mens shooes . An Elegie on a Tapster . HEre lyes a man of reckning , often seen t' have born much drink , & not distemperd been . He seem'd a lusty Sword-man , for he would Draw upon small occasion , and none should Scot-free esape , that through his fingers past , But they were sure to pay for it at last . Of his hard measure many have complain'd , He car'd not while he out of measure gain'd ; Such was his pot-luck , that to high place when , He had been call'd , soone he came down agen ; Now this draw-drink being dead by fatall hap , Soon you shall have a fresh one at the Tap . FINIS .