LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 RIVERSIDE

 
 iiftrar^ of ©lt» aiitijors. 
 
 Cijomas Carets.

 
 THE POEMS AND MASQUE 
 
 OF 
 
 THOMAS CAKEW. 
 
 V- 
 
 GENTLEMAN OF THE PRIVY- CHAMBER TO 
 
 KING CHARLES L, AND CUP-BEARER 
 
 TO HIS MAJESTY. 
 
 With an Introductory Memoir, an Appendix of 
 
 Unauthenticated Poems from AfSS., Notes, 
 
 and a Table of First Lines. 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 JOSEPH WOODFALL EBSWORTH, 
 
 M.A., F.S.A., Etc. 
 
 -//v+^ 
 
 LONDON: 
 REEVES AND TURNER, 196 STRAND. 
 
 1893.
 
 /?73
 
 DcJXcatovg ipreluDc 
 
 TO 
 
 THE POEMS OF THOMAS CAREW. 
 
 AD PSYCH EM. 
 
 n/TAIDEN FAIR, we bring to thee 
 
 ■^ ^-^ Choicest Lyric Poesy, 
 
 Such as our world rarely hears, 
 
 After five times fifty years : 
 
 No crude jests of mocking tongue ; 
 
 Sweeter songs were never sung. 
 
 When both Time and Love tvere young. 
 
 Hearken strains from One who knew 
 Hoiv to praise, and how to sue : 
 Celia's lover, Tom Carew. 
 He had bask'd in Beautfs smile. 
 Learned to prize her daintiest wile. 
 Yet could chide her, ivhcn he found 
 She would crush him to the ground ; 
 Gave her worship, gave her fame — 
 Though we may not guess her name ; 
 Sato her fickle, coy and cold. 
 Sometimes radiant, with the gold 
 Nimbus of her hair [like thine, 
 Where my fingers love to tivine) : 
 Now, a sun, begirt with rays ; 
 Then, chill, with a moon-lit haze 
 Of impenetrable sadness, 
 Driving men to gloom or madness, 
 Till she ivon them back to gladness.
 
 vi DEDICATORY PRELUDE. 
 
 Live in verse the varied charms 
 TJiat allured him to her arms ; 
 Live in verse, no less complete. 
 Pride, that trod him ^neath her feet ; 
 Till her petty scorn set free 
 Outraged Love from tyranny : 
 Then to others ivotdd he turn. 
 Hoping some neiv flame might burn 
 With unwavering ivarmer light — 
 Seeking peace, in her despite. 
 Still misled by fen-fire gleams, 
 These too were illusive dreams, 
 While his memory retained 
 Thoughts of her, ivhose love was feign' d, 
 Who had yet imequalVd reign'd. 
 
 Blame not, tliou, his wasted hours. 
 Flitting round those fading flowers ; 
 Nor account his labour vain 
 Whilst lie Celia songht to gain — 
 Fairest face that Vandyck dreio. 
 Of Whitehall's beioildering crew ; 
 Nymphs, who laughing partners play' d 
 p ,2- ■] In his Shrove-tide masquerade: 
 
 Love its oion pursuit can bless. 
 Though it never meet success. 
 Happy he, whom CeUnfoil'd, 
 Since to grace his Queen he toil'd ; 
 Faithfid to the Martyr- King, 
 Of whose worth he lov'd to sing ; 
 Happy, loith unshaken trust 
 That his reign was wise and Just. 
 Unforeseen were cdl the woes 
 Following swiftly his life's close ; 
 When the Revels ebb'd away. 
 Soon woxdd dawn the Evil Day. 
 i638.-| Happier he, thus laid to rest. 
 
 Ere Bebellion reard its crest ; 
 
 Folly's thraldom from him cast, 
 Contrite for all errors past : 
 Peace and Wisdom found at last.
 
 DEDICATORY PRELUDE. vii 
 
 Heed not, thou, the envious scribes 
 
 Who assail with heartless (jibes 
 
 Those who true and loyal stand, 
 
 As he stood, in our dear Land. 
 
 Wajiion trip:rs could not dare 
 
 Rise to breathe such 2>urer air ; 
 
 Pedant Puritans, with spite, [p. 252- 
 
 Strove to darken his clear light. 
 
 Let him reap ivhat he had sown. 
 
 Let his merit noiv be known. 
 
 Few the lines tee wish untvrif. 
 
 Of his courtly mirth and ivit ; 
 
 Few, though laioless passion pain' d, 
 
 Warmth of youth left soiVd or stain' d. 
 
 A Knightly Gentleman teas he. 
 
 Who bent in loyal faith the knee, 
 
 And ivozdd with sword and pen have striven, 
 
 Had life prolong' d to him been given. 
 Time then had 7iobler gifts reveal' d ; 
 False could he never be — or yield : 
 He would have died on ]>(&s,ehy-f eld. 
 
 J. WOODFALL EbSWORTH. 
 
 MoLASH Friory, Kent, 1S92.
 
 The Portrait of Thomas Carew. 
 
 {A Note. 
 
 The pretended ' Medallion portrait of Thomas Cai'ew, tlie 
 Poet, Gentleman of the Privy Chamber to Kmg Charles I.,' 
 which was advertised for publication in 1811-1814 by John 
 Pry of Bristol — after the profile medal by Jean Varin, alias 
 Warin, is not here re-engraved and reproduced : for the 
 ' excellent reason ' that it p>roves to be a portrait of the other 
 poet, 'Thomas Cary' (pp. 105, 239), attested as such by the 
 inscription; which teas falsified in 1870 : it is, distinctly, 
 ' Tho. Gary . R. Carol . Cvbicvlar . ^tatis . Sv.e . 35 . 1633.' 
 Signed, below, ' Varin.' In high relief : no reverse. It is 
 singularly beautiful, with chastened and noble features ; hair 
 Jloiving, with « lorc-locJc. Jean Varin was born at Sedan 
 in 1599, and died at Paris in 1672. There is one genuine 
 portrait of the true poet, Thomas Carew, painted by Antony 
 Vandyck, and pretserved in Her Majesty's Collection at 
 Windsor. It is of this portrait, a little more than profile 
 {sketched as Frontispiece) that ' Barry Cornwall,' himself a 
 poet, the father 0/ Adelaide Anne Procter, ivrote in 1824. : — 
 
 ' What a graceful picture is this, carrying about it all the 
 fine air and fantastic gentility of Vandyke ! Carew was 
 a man of family, a courtier, and a poet, and was much 
 beloved by the wits of his time. Some of his smaller pieces 
 are exceedingly graceful, and indeed, beautiful. He was as 
 much of an amorist as Sir Philip Sidney, and his verses have 
 more ease, though scarcely the same depth of sentiment, as 
 those by that Prince of Chivalry. Although Carew has 
 been classed by Pope with the ' mob of gentlemen,' there 
 are few of them who may be compared with him. His 
 little poem, beginning, 
 
 P- 69.] "Ask me no more where Jove bestows," etc., 
 
 is the most elegant little thing that ever was built up of 
 ccmceits ; and his Masque of Calum Britannicum, though, 
 of course, infinitely below Milton's Comus, reminds us in 
 parts of tliat delightful poem.' — Effigies Poeticce, No. 30. 
 
 But Ccelum Britannicum preceded Comus in publication. 
 Gomus, first acted' privately by the two Egertons (p. 167), 
 and others, on 2gth September, 1634, at Ludlow Casde, was 
 not printed until 1637. Carew could not bar roto from it.
 
 JntroDuctor^ /Iftemolr. 
 
 ' Again she said — "I woo thee not with gifts 
 Sequel of guerdon could not alter me 
 To fairer. Judge thou me by what I am, 
 So shalt thou find me fairest." ' — (Enone. 
 
 I. 
 
 HOMAS CAREW died more than two 
 hundred and fifty years ago. There are 
 ^ many of onr ' Early Poets ' who are best 
 represented by brief specimens of their 
 shorter works, to win attention from the present 
 race of languid or impatient readers, and some 
 fragment of praise or blame from the unsatisfactory 
 critics, who affect to be their supreme tasters and 
 advisers. Of the longer narratives in verse, the 
 dramas, epics, and allegories, the monodies and 
 epithalamia, a few mutilated extracts are held 
 sufficient to preserve the brilliant lines, the ' gems 
 of thought,' torn ruthlessly and destructively out 
 of their original setting, although it were of gold, 
 leaving the battered shell of context to be flung 
 aside on the dust-heap as ' alms for oblivion.' 
 
 But Thomas Carew deserves better treatment 
 than this. The total bulk of his poetry is not
 
 X INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR. 
 
 large, its quality is almost always good, and in 
 
 many of his charming love-songs to Celia he had 
 
 reached excellence. His every word has value, 
 
 worthy of being received Avith thanks. His verbal 
 
 'concetti,' yielded to suit the dainty fashion of 
 
 his time, are singularly few, in comparison with 
 
 those of Donne, Suckling, and others at the same 
 
 date. If occasionally, but not often, there is found 
 
 in him an excess of amatory warmth and directness 
 
 of speech, such as Court ladies encouraged of old, 
 
 he stands comparatively stainless, where others 
 
 had given the reins to their licentious fancy, and 
 
 been led into sensual imagery or into voluptuous 
 
 impurity. We object entirely to literature being 
 
 emasculated; if regulated solely by the supposed 
 
 requirements and approval of the conventional 
 
 ' young person.' But purity and sweetness are 
 
 inestimable. Neither Spenser's ' Epithalamion ' 
 
 nor 'A Eapture' was written for vicious minds. 
 
 No one need feel injury or disgust, when reading 
 
 the present text of Carew. 
 
 Since he wrote many of the most tender and 
 faultless love-songs, any ' English Anthology ' would 
 be grievously incomplete without them. His 
 Caelum Britannicum, far superior to the ordinary 
 Court masques of the reign, has passages of grandeur 
 and true feeling, never wearisome. Although the 
 flattery of King Charles I. and of his Queen, 
 Henrietta Maria, may be deemed too laudatory 
 by the modern code, which begrudges flattery to 
 monarchs, and restricts it to the dispensers of 
 patronage, place, and power, we have every reason 
 to believe that from Carew it was loyally sincere,
 
 LIFE AND POEMS. xi 
 
 and rendered in affectionate gratitude to those Avho 
 had invariably treated him with kindness. The 
 prodigal outlay, lavished in the production of such 
 a Masque as this, its adornment regardless of cost 
 and labour, the scenery, machinery, dresses, and 
 music by Henry Lawes, suggest to remembrance 
 the speedy approach of evil days. The continual 
 drain of money, required for such costly pleasures, 
 compelled the King to strain to the utmost his 
 privileges and prerogative, while stinted grudgingly 
 of supplies for all expenditure by the Commons ; 
 so that the Masques at Whitehall, leading towards 
 the exactions of Ship-money and Poundage, followed 
 before long by the open rebellion of the King's 
 enemies, and their cold-blooded murder of his 
 chief adherents, Strafford and Laud, were events 
 that held a logical sequence. 
 
 Thomas Carew was perfectly sincere in his 
 ' Commendatory Verses ' (pp. 1 1 7 to 1 28), his praise 
 of the living patrons, the King, or the Villiers family; 
 and of the dead, in his funeral verses or ' Obsequies ' 
 (pp. 17, 51 to 55, 106 to 118). This, his wedding 
 congratulations (pp. 63, 81 to 84), his descriptive 
 thanks for hospitality at Saxham and Wrest (pp. 
 24, 125), no less than all his friendly greetings to 
 Aurelian Townsend, George Sandys, Ben Jonson, 
 Walter Montague, William Davenant, and even the 
 Monody on Donne of St. Paul's (pp. 59, in, 114, 
 115, 120, 124), their unaffected heartiness and 
 simplicity of language surely prove. They raise 
 his character high in esteem. He was devoid of 
 jealousy or malice, and must have despised the 
 unseemly vailing of faction, as he despised all
 
 xii INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR. 
 
 tliat was disloyal to his lord or lady. He bears 
 well every searching ordeal, and the more we have 
 studied him the better we have learned to love him, 
 as an honourable man who reverenced the truth 
 in others, and who was no less faithful in religion 
 than he was in obedience to his sovereign. 
 
 Piecemeal biographers have disparaged him, 
 according to their use and wont ; using him as a 
 target whereat to shoot their moral pellets and 
 cheap thunderbolts against the Court of the Stuarts 
 (since, according to one of them, Charles I. Avas ' a 
 king who the less he knew the more he meddled ') ; 
 accepting without examination, and as if already 
 proved, whatsoever convenient slanderous gossip 
 may have floated down the ages from the Puritans. 
 It is supposed by them to be sufficient, that a loyal 
 Cavalier would necessarily be grossly immoral 
 and opposed to national liberty. Such mockery of 
 liberty as these advocates admire, the demagogues 
 and parliament-men of old were before long trying 
 to bring in : ' The Dominion of the Sword,' when 
 ' Law lies a-bleeding,' or the greatest anarchy of 
 the bisf^est number. This could be seen within 
 
 CO 
 
 four years — nay, little more than two years — after 
 Carew's death. Truly, it was time for him to go. 
 
 An attempt has been made, by the present editor 
 and publishers, to atone for the neglect into which 
 Carew had fallen ; also for the sins and absurdities 
 of those who had hitherto done little to restore to 
 him his true position in the afi'ectionate remembrance 
 of all who have faculties to prize genuine merit. 
 The reader has here as pure and perfect a text as 
 can be recovered, unburdened by footnotes on the
 
 LIFE AND POEMS. xiii 
 
 page, to clistrcact attention from the poetry, and 
 no outward sign shoAvn too obtrusively of the 
 ungrudging hxhour expended in reproduction. The 
 authentic reading has in every case been searched 
 for, amid contrasted manuscripts and printed 
 versions, thus to reach, if possible, the ipsissima 
 verba of the poet. From every known source 
 something has been drawn of gain, and a full 
 acknowledgment of such help is made in the 
 group of 'Poems from Manuscripts,' and in the 
 other 'Appendix of IS'otes ' (pp. 171 to 208, and 
 211 to 248). The indisputable authority for the 
 text of the Coehmi Britannicum, 163I, was the 
 first edition, in quarto, dated 1634; printed four 
 j'ears before Carew's death, and probably Avith his 
 own revision.* Little is won from reproductions 
 of later date, 1640, etc., including Robert Southey's, 
 183 1 ; he, with other editors, was grossly remiss in 
 attention to the text (e.^;., misprinting ^ right liawdi' 
 for 'rigid hand' of p. 150 j spoiling the passage 
 
 * Thomas Warton {History of Ewjlish Pwtry, ii. 538, 
 Thomas Tegg's edit., 1871), has a footnote telling of 
 Carew's Masque, ' written by the King's command, and 
 played by his majesty, with many of the nobility and their 
 sons who were boys. The machinery by Inigo Jones, and 
 the music by H. Lawes. It has been given to Davenant, 
 but improperly.' Warton says it was the masque with 
 which the King returned the compliment paid by ' a little 
 piece called The Inns of Court Anagrammatist, or, The 
 Masquers Masqued in Ana<jranis, written by Francis Lenton, 
 the Queen's poet, London, 1634,' 4to. 'In this piece the names 
 and respective houses of each masquer are specified, and in 
 commendation of each there is an epigram.' (Reeves and 
 Turner's ed., 1871, iii. 318. Cf. Strafford's letters, 360.)
 
 xiv INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR. 
 
 concerning the double changes of Jupiter's favourites 
 by misreading 'transformed ; ' one, in 1870, actually 
 accentuating ' transformed,' to eke out the damaged 
 line, which ought to read thus, ' And in despite he 
 ?*e-transform'd to stars : ' (p. 133). 
 
 Li old printing the capital letters were in excess, 
 but the reprints in our modern times injuriously 
 restrict or banish them, quite as capriciously. We 
 have exercised our own discretion in retaining them, 
 where important, and also the italic type, . thereby 
 to distinguish proper names in the original text. 
 How execrably that text had been treated, elsewhere, 
 needs no laboriously specific demonstration. 
 
 § II. — Birth, Parentage, and Education. 
 
 In attempting to write a memoir of any early 
 poets and dramatists one is perpetually met by the 
 obstacle of their having been seldom mentioned by 
 their contemporaries with the fulness and fervour 
 that might have been expected, and that had been 
 their due. A few dates can be found, when they 
 chanced to take part in some pubHc ceremony, or 
 became involved in any questionable transaction. 
 Often, as in the case of Thomas Carew, we have 
 no certain evidence regarding the place and date 
 of his birth or of his death ; though we have 
 good reason to believe that he was born in 1598, 
 at Wickham in Kent ; and that he died, probably 
 at Smminghill in Windsor Forest, or possibly in 
 King Street, Westminster, in the month of March 
 or in the first week of April, 1638.
 
 LIFE AND POEMS. xv 
 
 He was youngest of tliree children (Martha, Matthew, 
 and Thomas), who, out of a large family, survived their 
 father, Sir Matthew Carew of Middle-Littleton, Worcester- 
 shire (a Master in Chancery, and S(jn of Sir Wymond 
 Carew, K.B., of East Anthony, near Plymouth, also of 
 Kingsland, Hackney, Middlesex, and Martha, his wife, 
 daughter of Sir Edmund Denny, of Cheshunt, Herts.) ; 
 he -was knighted in 1603, and buried at St. Dunstan's- 
 in-the-West, August 2, 161S, where his monument was 
 raised. His wife, Alice, Lady Carew, mother of Thomas, 
 was a daughter of Sir John Rivers, Lord Mayor of London 
 in 1573, and grand-daughter of Richard Rivers of Penhurst 
 (Stow: Survey of London, 1720, Bk. v. p. 135). It was her 
 seeoud marriage, her first was with one lugpeuny. 
 
 Martha, only surviving daughter, wife of James Cromer, 
 Kent, became Lady Cromer ; and afterwards married 
 Sir Edward Hales. Since her daughter Elizabeth was 
 ' baptized out of Dr. Carew's house,' at St. Dunstans-in- 
 the-West, Nov. 11, 1599 (Nichols, Collectanea TojMgraphica 
 et Genealogica, 1838, v. 36S), Martha must have been much 
 older than her two brothers ; the elder one, Matthew (made 
 knight banneret in 1609), having been born April 3, 1 590, at 
 Wickham in Kent, Their father had lost his fortune four 
 years before his death (some ^{'Sooo or ^^i 0,000 lost by one 
 borrower, who never repaid : see Lansdowne MS. 163, fol. 
 287, quoted by Cecil Monro, Acta Cancdlariu', 1847, p. 3). 
 He must have resided occasionally, in vacation time, at 
 Middle-Littleton, for his daughter Christian was buried 
 there, March i, 159I (Nash's Worcestershire, ii. 105), but 
 her age is not mentioned on the brass tablet. It is possible 
 that Thomas was born at Middle-Littleton two years later, 
 and not in Kent at Wickham. 
 
 Thomas is supposed to have studied early, like his father, 
 or his elder brother Matthew, at Westminster School, and 
 thence went to Corpus Christi, at Oxford, but left without 
 taking a degree. Anthony ii Wood says that Carew ' had 
 his academical education in Corp. Ch. Coll., as those that 
 knew him have informed me ; yet he occurs not matriculated 
 as a member of that house, or that he took a scholastical 
 degree' {Athence Oxonienses, ed. Philip Bliss, ii. 657, 1S15).
 
 xvi INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR. 
 
 § III. — Early Troubles. 
 
 In the absence of dates to this account of Carew's 
 Oxford experience, we suppose him to have left 
 College early, 1 615, his studies being interrupted by- 
 Sir Matthew's losses. Thomas may have indulged 
 beyond his means in such expensive habits as his 
 open friendliness and the knowledge of belonging 
 to a good family, connected with many of the 
 nobility by blood or marriage, must inevitably have 
 encouraged. His father's impoverishment came 
 from profusely lending money without security or 
 ultimate repayment. His son inherited his generous 
 disposition, but had no fixed professional income ; 
 while ' draAving of affidavits ' remained a profitable 
 employment for Sir Matthew until his death, 
 1 6 18. At that time Thomas was only twenty years 
 old, and had already been repulsed in his attempts 
 to gain or retain employment on foreign affairs. 
 To speak of Carew having ' surrendered himself 
 to idle habits,' and also of his having 'developed an 
 unfortunate propensity at an early age for neglect- 
 ing the work of preparation for making his way 
 in the world ' [Roxh. Library: Carew, p. xxii. 1870), 
 is to press unduly against him a charge which 
 might as justly be brought to disparage every other 
 poet : in whom the imnginative temperament, the 
 love of meditation, art, song, and even the pursuit 
 of science and philosophy, instead of commerce and 
 diplomacy, have frequently proved obstacles to an 
 early success in making money : Pope mentions 
 
 ' A Clerk foredoom'd his father's soul to cross, 
 Who pens a stanza, wlien he should engross.' j
 
 LIFE AND FOEMS. xvii 
 
 It is open to demonstration that Carew can never 
 have been an idler. He had not only great abilities 
 naturally, but he must have been laborious and 
 conscientious in his determined improvement of 
 his faculties ; the artistic finish of all that he had 
 thought and wrote. Such friends as he won, and 
 held securely, were not men of slight or frivolous 
 character. By them he was loved and respected. 
 Once for all, we must reject alike the slanders of 
 the precisian John Hales, and the distasteful in- 
 sinuations of the conceited voluptuary and trifler, 
 Sir John Suckling (p. 244). 
 
 So early as February 25, 1613 (161 1, our 1614), 
 Avhen Thomas was not older than sixteen. Sir 
 Matthew, in a letter to Dudley Carleton, mentions 
 ' that one of his sons is roving after hounds and 
 hawks ; the other studying in the temple, but doing 
 httle at law.' It has been assumed, rashly, that it 
 was Thomas who was Avasting time with hawks (he 
 certainly uses a term of falconry, ' to imi:) the wings,' 
 pp. 15, 216, but it was a proverbial common-place, 
 shown on pp. 217, 253); this probably means the 
 elder son, Matthew, who adopted a military life ; 
 and leaves Thomas to a novitiate of law-study, in 
 readiness to help his father as secretary. 
 
 Three years later, on September 2, 161 6, Sir 
 Dudley Carleton being at the Hague, English 
 'Ambassador to the united Provinces of the Low 
 Countrys,' and a connection of the Carew family 
 by marriage, a letter was written to him by Thomas [p. 256. 
 {State Fapers, Domestic, of James I., 161 6, July 
 to October, vol. 88, No. 67), telhng of his new 
 
 endeavour to take service with a kinsman, George, 
 
 b
 
 xviii INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR. 
 
 Lord Carew, at Woodstock, where fair promises 
 but no real help had been given to him. Kine 
 p. 258.] days later he had better hopes from the Earl of 
 Arundel, to whom he was recommended by Lord 
 Carew {Ibid., Domest., James I., vol. 88, Xos. 77, 
 87) ; but it came to nothing, owing to some grudge 
 on the part of Dudley Carleton : with whom Sir 
 Matthew nevertheless kept correspondence, telling, 
 on October 4, 161 7, that his son has nothing to 
 do, and is leading a loose and debauched life. 
 Later, March 24, 1618, less than four months 
 before his own death, he writes to Lady Carleton : 
 Thomas Carew's position had improved, he again 
 living with liis father, and expressmg sorrow for his 
 previous irregularities. (Sir Dudley became Viscount 
 Dorchester in 1628, and died in Feb. 163I.) 
 
 That Carew had been previously employed in 
 foreign correspondence and familiar intercourse 
 Avith the Carletons before this date is ascertained ; 
 they had both been absent from England since 
 November 16 10 at Venice, Turin, and elsewhere, 
 until Sir Dudley succeeded Winwood at the Hague 
 in IMarch 1616, remaining there five years. Some 
 heedlessness of talk or writing on the part of Carew 
 concerning them, when he had left them suddenly 
 abroad, in his youth, had been taken bitterly and 
 revengefully to heart by the lady. She managed to 
 sway her uxorious husband, for her own unknown 
 reasons, agamst the handsome youth ; who failed, 
 perhaps, to treat her with sufficient deference. 
 She was Anne, daughter of Sir Henry Saville, the 
 editor of Chrysostom, and had been married at the 
 Temple Church in 1607. Such a woman never
 
 LIFE AND POEMS. xix 
 
 forgives a slight or a repulse. Before indulging 
 in blame of Carew, on such a quarrel, we should 
 remember the probability of her being the sole 
 aggressor : arrogant and indignant that her waning 
 beauty, in the ^thirties,' met less adoration. If 
 ' he comes too near, who comes to be denied,' there 
 are others, like Carew, who incur hatred because of 
 not coming near enough to please. 
 
 Service of some sort, as tutor or secretary, was 
 secured, by 1 6 1 9, soon after the death of his father, 
 and foreign travel with all its advantages was thus 
 regained. The Oxford residence had been earlier, 
 circa 161 5. Our best authority is again Anthony 
 Wood, whose richly-annotated Diary is now being 
 pubhshed by the Oxford Historical Society. He says, 
 
 ' Afterwards [i.e., after leaving Christ Church, Oxford], 
 improving his parts by travelling and conversation with 
 ingenious men in the metropolis, he became reckon'd among 
 the chiefest of his time for delicacy of wit and poetic fancy. 
 About which time, being taken into the Royal Court for his 
 most admirable ingenuity, he was made Gentleman of the 
 Privy-chamber, and Sewer in ordinary to King Charles I., 
 who always esteemed him to the last one of the most cele- 
 brated wits in his court. . . . Carew was much valued by the 
 King, and was a great favourite among his poetical and other 
 acquaintances, among whom must not be omitted Walt. 
 Montague, afterwards Lord Abbot of Pontois ; Aurelian [Poitot'. 
 Townsend, of the same family with those of Raynham 
 in Norfolk; Tho. May, afterwards the long parliament's 
 historian ; George Sandys, the traveller and poet ; Will. 
 Davenant.' — Wood's Athcnce, ii. 658. {The Life and Times of 
 Anthony Wood, Antiquary of Oxford, 1632-1695 ; described 
 by Himself ; is edited most satisfactorily, a thorough, 
 elaborate, and convincing work of immense value, by the 
 Rev. Andrew Clark, M.A., Fellow of Lincoln College, and 
 Vicar of S. Michael's, Oxford. 1891,1892. In progress.)
 
 XX INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR. 
 
 j\lany more names might have been added, 
 especially Edward Hyde, the Chancellor; Lord 
 Clarendon ; John Donne, Dean of St, Paul's ; 
 James Howell, of the Epistolae Ho-elliamti ; James 
 Shirley, dramatist; Sir John Crofts, of Saxham, Cup- 
 bearer to the King; the Neville family — Gilbert, 
 Catherine, and Mary (pp. loi, 125, 186); Henry 
 Carey, second Earl of Monmouth (pp. 118, 246); 
 John Selden, Sir Kenelm Digby, John Vaughan, 
 Charles Cotton, Lord Herbert of Cherbury (with 
 Avhom in 16 19 he went to the French Court). Also 
 two, who Avere more dangerous in their brilliant 
 immorality and looseness of principle than all his 
 other acquaintances, the Circean Lucy, Countess 
 of Carlisle (jip. 29, 99, 218, 237 to 239), and the 
 lively Sir John Suckling (pp. 219, 244), who gave 
 to the world his matchless ' Ballad on a Wedding,' 
 " I tell thee, Dick, where I have been." 
 
 It may have been during the unsettled time, 
 while his prospects were dark and uncertain, that 
 he wrote the beautiful lines on the ' Parting of Two 
 Lovers ' (p. 175). They were evidently sincere and 
 of personal experience. 
 
 § IV. — KxowN AND Loved. 
 
 Probably before the accession of Charles I., in 
 March 1625, and while he was still Prince of Wales 
 (created Xov. 4, 161 6), Lord Beauchamp was 
 attended by CareAV as Squire. He soon rose in 
 favour with the King ; was appointed by him Sewer 
 in Ordinary, involving duties as arranger of the 
 banquet-table, and Cup-bearer to his Majesty, and
 
 LIFE AND POEMS. xxi 
 
 Gentleman of the Privy-chamber. (Not 'of the 
 Bed-chamber/ Cuhicularis, as was Thomas Carey : 
 see p. viii.) 
 
 Carew won more solid bounty, King Charles 
 bestowing on him the royal domain of Sunninghill, 
 part of the Windsor great forest. Whether he 
 died there, or at one of his friends' houses, Wrest in 
 Suffolk, or Saxham, near Bedford (pp. 24, 27, 218), or 
 was able after sickness to return to his town-house 
 in King Street, Westminster (pp. 242, 256), is not 
 ascertained ; for no monument or church register of 
 burial has been discovered. It seems probable that 
 when he sent requesting John Hales to visit him, 
 from Eton (p. 252), Carew had been dwelling at 
 Sunninghill, in the near neighbourhood. The chief 
 aid to an estimate of the time of Carew's death, lies 
 in his relation to Ben Jonson, who died August 6, 
 1637, and the poets of the day speedily contributed 
 their tributary verses in his memory : the collection 
 is entitled Jonsonus Virhius. From this Thomas 
 Carew's memorial lines are absent. But he had loved 
 the man, and could properly value his genius (see 
 Carew's address to him, on the publication in 1 63 1 
 of Ben's Ode, angrily denouncing those who had 
 rejected his comedy of Tlie New Inn, i6|^, pp. 
 61, 225, 226). It is deemed almost certain, that 
 sickness and death must have caused Carew's silence. 
 Anthony h Wood says, ' He was much respected, 
 if not ador'd, by the poets of his time, especially 
 by Ben Jonson.' A trustworthy anecdote of botli 
 Carew and Jonson is preserved in a letter from 
 James Howell to Sir Thomas Hawke, April 5, 
 1636. It deserves to be reproduced here : —
 
 xxii INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR. 
 
 ' I was invited yesternight to a solemn supper by B[en] 
 J\mu(ya\, where you were deeply remembered ; there was 
 good Company, excellent Cheer, choice Wines, and jovial 
 welcome : One thing intervened, which almost spoiled the 
 relish of the rest, that B. began to engross all the Discourse, 
 to vapour extremely of himself, and by vilifying others to 
 magnify his own Muse. T. Ca. buzzed me in the ear, that 
 though Ben had barrelled up a great deal of knowledge, 
 yet it seems he ad not read the Ethics, which, among other 
 Precepts of Morality, forbid Self-commendation.' 
 
 Carew's estimate was justified. Ben Jonson had previously 
 found a spiteful chronicler in Wm. Drummond, of Hawthorn - 
 den, a libellous diarist and traducer of his guest. See his 
 ' Conversations,' of January i6|| : — 'Re is a great lover and 
 praiser ofhimself : a contemner and scornsr of others ; given 
 rather to lose a friend than a jest ; jealous of every loord and 
 action of those about him (especially after drink, xchich is one 
 of the elements in which he liveth) ; ' etc., with much bitterness. 
 
 § V. — His Death. 
 
 In the Jonsonus Virhius poem, written by Lucius 
 Carey, Lord Falkland, 'On the Death of Ben 
 Jonson,' Carew's name occurs, as if he were alive. 
 
 ' Let Dighy, Carew, KiJligreiv, and Maine, 
 Godolphin, Wallei; that inspired train — 
 Or whose rare pen beside deserves the grace 
 Or of an equal, or a neighbouring place — 
 Answer thy wish, for none so fit appears 
 To raise his Tomb, as who are left his heirs.' 
 
 — An Eclogue on the Death of Ben Jonson. 
 {MiscelloMes of Fo.ller Worthies Lib., iii. 1871.) 
 
 Carew must have been still alive, or not known 
 to he dead, until the earliest days of spring, 1638. 
 He probably died suddenly, during March, or the 
 first week of April, at latest ; but after more than
 
 LIFE AND POEMS. xxiii 
 
 one forewarning from seA'ere illness, ' in the country.' [p- 252- 
 His friend Will. Davenant had addressed to him a 
 poem, playfully anticipating the eftect of his death 
 whensoever it miglit take place, in releasing from 
 rivalry the crowd of hitherto eclipsed amatory poets, 
 who would straightway throng King Street, West- 
 minster, where Carew had dwelt, even as though 
 Parliament were again sitting in the neighbour- 
 hood. This poem, having been written recently, 
 is at the end of the volume ; which was licensed 
 on 26th of February, 163I, and published early in 
 March. Moreover, Clement Barksdale sent a copy 
 of it to Carew, under care of his friend John Crofts 
 of Saxham, Suffolk, and wrote in it his own lines 
 beginning, ' Teque meum,' etc., that were afterwards 
 printed in his NymiDlxa Libetkris ; oi', The Cotsivold 
 Muse, 1651. (See pp. 245, 254, for both these 
 poems. They form documentary evidence of date, 
 in regard to Carew's death.) Had Davenant known 
 that CareAV no longer lived, he would not have 
 permitted the lines to go forth, for he loved him. 
 It was different with the less affectionate and more 
 flippant Sir Jolin Suckling, who felt no scruple 
 against circulating in manuscript his own three 
 jests at Carew's expense ; they remained imprinted 
 luitil 1646, and Suckling died circd 1642. 
 
 Carew had died before the I'jth of April 1638, for 
 in the Domestic Series of State Papers, Charles I., 
 of that date, a^oL 387, No. 31, viz., the humble 
 petition of John Eobinson, Vicar of Sunninghill 
 in the county of Berks., it mentions that 'your 
 Majesty was graciously pleased to part with the 
 Park of Sunninghill in the Forest of AA^indsor to
 
 xxiv INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR. 
 
 Mr. Tho. Carew,' and he personally requests an 
 inquiry to be made, by summoning ' the executors of 
 the said Mr. Careiv,' etc. Parsondom and money ! 
 
 § VI. — Conclusion. 
 
 Thus bald and scanty is the record that is called 
 biography of Thomas Carew. Had he chosen to 
 have kept a Diary or Itinerary in his youthful days 
 of travel, noting what he saw for himself at the 
 Hague, in Venice, Turin, Paris, and Florence, cities 
 which he visited diplomatically or for pleasure, 
 and with such descriptions of men, manners, and 
 scenery as he has proved himself to have at will, 
 we shoidd have possessed a more charming book 
 than Lord Herbert of Cherbury could give, or grave 
 John Evelyn, men whose talents were respectable 
 and habits decorous, but who certainly gave way to 
 sententious dulness and sanctimonious pretences. 
 
 It seems idle to burden this necessarily brief 
 Introduction with the eulogies on Carew, seldom 
 enthusiastic, from fifth-rate critics. Phillips of 
 Theatnuii Poetarum need not be summoned again 
 as a witness. Headley, Hallam, and a score more, 
 who wrote their commendation respectfully, cannot 
 equal the interest of Clarendon's affectionate words 
 (p. 246). Eobert Baron's frigid compliments (p. 253) 
 in 'Truth and Tears,' of Pocula Castalia, 1650, 
 or George Daniel of Beswick's mere mention of 
 Carew's name, cannot advance his reputation 
 greatly, so neither can he be injured by the carping 
 insolence of George Wither, or whosoever it may 
 have been that wrote the libellous satire entitled
 
 LIFE AND POEMS. xxv 
 
 The Great Assizes Holden in Parnassus hy Apollo 
 arid Ms Assessors, 1645. We are led away too 
 much in modern days by tlie opinions of people 
 who ill deserve to possess any authority. We read 
 criticisms, comments, and ' elucidations ' which 
 darken counsel with much speaking, when we 
 ought to devote attention to the author himself; 
 not the scene-shifter, or the roguish link-boy who 
 too often dashes the flame in our face, and robs 
 us unblushingly, as link-bearers used to do of old. 
 When reading Thomas Carew, what need have we 
 of more than CarcAv himself 1 If ponderous tomes 
 are written about a man, how little it avails, imless 
 he himself interests us, and is worthy of our regard ? 
 There are in Carew sufficient attractions, beyond 
 the fact of his long-continued faithfulness in love, 
 towards the one woman, whom he protects from 
 gossip by disguising her name, as ' Celia.' Through- 
 out the Notes and incidental comments, we have 
 spoken all that we needed to say, except-^availing 
 ourself of an old custom — what we have tried to 
 sing, in the Prelude and the Epilogue, avowing 
 our love and admiration for the man himself, the 
 writer, no less than for the Poems of Thomas Carew. 
 
 J. W. Ebsworth. 
 MoLASH Priory, Kent, 1892.
 
 L'EPllOGUE, POUR PSYCHE. 
 
 5n /llbcniorlam : G'bomas Carew. 
 
 (Natus circd, 1598; Ohi'd, 1638.) 
 
 J/f/^ J' now not where thy dust is laid, 
 '^'^ Perchance in some forgotten glade, 
 Under the Yew-trees' hallow'd shade ; 
 
 Since, haply, thy last breath was dratvn 
 In a lone distant Grange, ichen daivn 
 Shotv'd glittering deiv-drops on the lawn; 
 
 Or, home return'd, to be more near 
 
 The Court 0/ Charles, tvho held thee dear: 
 
 Death found thee, sad, yet without fear. 
 
 And friends, u-ho oft had shared thy quest, 
 
 Bore thee in silence to thy rest: 
 
 That long sweet sleep we count the best. 
 
 They hncn- thy worth. The croivd press' d on 
 To civil-war, with shout or moan: 
 For thee rose no memorial-stone. 
 
 Yet all whose hearts were sound could prize 
 Thy songs, thy tender melodies. 
 That still win tears from loving eyes. 
 
 Early recall' d : — the better doom! 
 We mourn thee not, as lost in gloom: 
 But lay this White Rose on thy tomb. 
 
 MoLASH Priory : Kent. J. w. E.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Dedicatoey Prelude : Ad Psychem 
 
 Note on the True Portrait of Thomas Carew 
 
 Introductory Memoir 
 
 Epilogue: In Memoriam, T. C 
 
 Poems :— 
 
 The Spring ........ 
 
 His Counsel to his Mistress, A. L. 
 
 A Strife between Celia's Lips and Eyes 
 
 A Divine Mistress ....... 
 
 On his Beautiful Mistress ..... 
 
 A Cruel Mistress ....... 
 
 Murdering Beauty ...... 
 
 My IMistress Commanding me to Return her Letters 
 
 Secrecy Protested ....... 
 
 A Prayer to the Wind : A Sigh .... 
 
 Mediocrity in Love Rejected .... 
 
 Good Counsel to a Young Maid (No. i) 
 Mistress, sitting by a River's side 
 iquest by Flight ...... 
 
 To my Inconstant Mistress ..... 
 
 Persuasions to Joy ...... 
 
 A Deposition from Love ..... 
 
 Ungrateful Beauty Threatened .... 
 
 Disdain Returned ....... 
 
 A Looking-Glass ....... 
 
 An Elegy on the Lady Pennington : sent from France 
 
 To his Mistress in Absence ..... 
 
 To Her in Absence : A Ship .... 
 
 Eternity of Love Protested ..... 
 
 On Alterations in my Mistress, after my Depai'ture 
 into France [1619] ...... 
 
 Good Counsel to a Young Maid (No. 2) 
 
 Celia Bleeding : to the Surgeon .... 
 
 To T. H., a Lady resembling My Mistress . 
 
 On his Winter Entertainment at Saxham, Suffolk 
 
 Upon a Ribbon, tied about his Arm by a Lady . 
 
 To the King, at his Entrance into Saxham . 
 
 Upon the Sickness of E. S. (Elizabeth Sheldon ?) . 
 
 A New- Year's Sacrifice to Lucinda 
 
 To One who, when I praised my Mistress, said I was 
 Blind 
 
 To my Mistress, I burning in Love 
 
 To her again, slie Burning in a Fever . 
 
 xxvii 
 
 PAGE 
 V 
 
 IX 
 
 xxvi 
 
 I 
 
 2 
 
 4 
 
 5 
 
 5 
 
 6 
 
 6 
 
 7 
 
 9 
 
 9 
 
 10 
 
 II 
 
 12 
 
 12 
 
 13 
 14 
 14 
 15 
 16 
 16 
 17 
 19 
 20 
 21 
 
 21 
 22 
 23 
 23 
 24 
 26 
 27 
 28 
 29 
 
 30 
 31 
 31
 
 xxviii CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Upon the King's Sickness, 1633 ..... 32 
 
 To a Lady, not yet enjoyed by her Husband 
 
 The Willing Prisoner to his Mistress . 
 
 A Fly that flew into his Celia's eye 
 
 On Celia singing to her Lute, in Arundel Garden 
 
 Celia Singing ....... 
 
 To One that desired to know my Mistress . 
 
 A Lady to her Inconstant Servant 
 
 Truce in Love Intreated ..... 
 
 Song, to my Rival ...... 
 
 Boldness in Love ....... 
 
 Pastoral Dialogue, between Celia and Cleon 
 Grief Engrossed ....... 
 
 Pastoral Dialogue : ' This mossy bank they press'd ' 
 Red and "White Rinses ...... 
 
 To my Cousin, C. R., marrying Lady Altham 
 A Lover, on departure, consults with Reason 
 Parting, Celia Wee^JS ...... 
 
 A Rapture ........ 
 
 The Second Rapture ...... 
 
 Epitaph on the Lady Mary Villiers 
 
 Another Epitaph ....... 
 
 Another Epitaph ....... 
 
 Epitaph on Lady Salter, wife of Sir William Salter 
 Inscription on the Tomb of Lady Mary Wentworth 
 Inscription on the Tomb of the Duke of Buckingham 
 The other Inscription on the same Tomb 
 Four Songs, by way of Chorus to a Play : — 
 
 1. Of Jealousy ....... 
 
 2. Of Feminine Honour ..... 
 
 3. Separation of Lovers ..... 
 
 4. Incommunicability of Love .... 
 Other Songs in the Play : — 
 
 1. A Lover disguised as an Amazon . 
 
 2. A Lady rescued by a Knight 
 To Ben Jonson, on his Ode of Defiance, 1633 
 Hymeneal Dialogue, betwixt Bride and Groon . 
 The Comparison, on the Perfection of his Mistress 
 The Enquiry (possibly bv Hcrrick, not certainly) 
 
 The Spark . . .^ 
 
 Love's Complement (not Compliment) . 
 
 A Song : ' Ask me no more where Jove bestows ' 
 
 On Sight of a Gentlewoman's Face, in the Water 
 
 Song : ' Would you know what's soft? ' 
 
 The Hue and Cry (compare p. 181) 
 
 Song, to his Mistress confined 
 
 The Primrose (probably Carew's own, not by Herrick) 
 
 The Tinder 
 
 A Song : ' In her fair cheeks two pits do lie ' 
 
 The Carver. To his Mistress 
 
 To the Painter
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 XXIX 
 
 Love's Courtship : To Celia .... 
 On a Damask Rose, worn on a Lady's Breast 
 The Protestation : A Sonnet 
 The Toothache cured by a Kiss 
 
 The Dart 
 
 The Mistake 
 
 To his Jeiilous Mistress .... 
 
 Ou the Marriage of Thomas Killigrew and Cecilia 
 
 Crofts : Morning stormy .... 
 On my Lord Chief Justice, his Election of Lady An 
 
 Weutworth ....... 
 
 An HymcDcal Song, on the Nuptials of Lady An 
 
 "Weutworth aud Lord Lovelace 
 A Married "Woman ...... 
 
 A Divine Love ....... 
 
 Love's Force ........ 
 
 A Fancy ........ 
 
 To his Mistress : 'Grieve not, my Celia' 
 
 Song : ' Come, my Celia, let us jsrove ' 
 
 In Praise of his Mistress ..... 
 
 To Celia, on Love's Ubiquity .... 
 
 On his Mistress going to Sea .... 
 
 To Ann Doris, unreasonable, distrustful of her ow: 
 
 beauty ........ 
 
 To a Lady that desired I would love her 
 For a Pictui'e, where a Queeu Laments 
 A New Year's Gift : 
 
 1. To the King 
 
 2. To the Queen ... . . 
 
 3. For the Countess of Carlisle 
 
 To my Lord Admiral, on his late Sickness (By Waller) 
 The Retired blood exhorted : The Sisters Neville 
 Upon a Mole in Celia's Bosom 
 Method us Amandi : A Dialogue . 
 
 Obsequies: — 
 To my Lady Anne Hay .... 
 
 To the Countess of Auglesea, 1630 
 An Elegy u;>oa the Death of Di". Donue, 1631 
 Upon the Death of the King of Sweden, 1632 
 
 COIIMENDATOET VeRSKS : — 
 
 To George Sandys, 1638 .... 
 
 To Heni-y, Lord Carey, of Leppiugtou, 1638 
 
 To Thomas May, on 'The Heir,' 1633 . 
 
 To AYillinm Davenant, on ' The Just Italian,' 16 
 
 To the Reader of Davenant's ' "Wits,' 1636 . 
 
 To Will Daveuaut, on his Poem, 1636 . 
 
 Upon "W'altor Montague's Return from Travel 
 
 To Master "Walter Montague 
 
 To Gilbert Neville, from Wrest, Bedfordshire 
 
 'Sweetly breathing vernal air' 
 
 77 
 78 
 78 
 
 79 
 80 
 80 
 81 
 
 82 
 
 83 
 85 
 85 
 87 
 88 
 88 
 89 
 90 
 
 91 
 
 92 
 
 93 
 95 
 96 
 
 97 
 98 
 
 99 
 100 
 lor 
 102 
 103 
 
 106 
 108 
 III 
 114 
 
 117 
 118 
 119 
 120 
 121 
 122 
 123 
 124 
 
 125 
 125
 
 XXX 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CcELUM Britannicdm : A Masque at Whitehall, Feb. 
 
 IS, i63g 
 
 Extra Poems from Manuscripts, and Printed Copies, 
 
 unauthenticated : — 
 To his Mistress Retiring in Affection 
 On his Mistress Looking in a Glass 
 Excuse for Absence 
 A Lady's Prayer to Cupid 
 Another Version of the Kibbou 
 When the Snow Fell ( ' I saw fair Celia ') . 
 Ode : ' Phillis, though thy powerful charms ' 
 The Mournful Parting of Two Lovers [qu. 1619?] 
 A Health to my Mistress .... 
 To his Unconstant Mistress .... 
 Verses : ' He gave her Jewels in a Cup of Gold ' 
 The Hue and Cry (from James Shirley's ' Witty Fair 
 
 One,' 1633) 
 
 Another 'Hue and Cry' (Michael Drai/ton f) 
 
 To Celia : ' Rise, lovely Celia, and be kind ' 
 
 The Pi-ologue to a Play, at AVhitehall, 1633 . 
 
 The Epilogue, to the Same Play . 
 
 To Mistress Katherine Neville 
 
 Another, of the same title .... 
 
 Mr. Carew to his Friend : 'Like to the hand,' etc 
 
 Love's Flattery : ' When, Celia, I intend to flatter you ' 
 
 Four Unauthenticated Epigrams : i. On Munday of 
 
 Oxford ; 2. On Philip ; 3. On One that died of 
 
 Wiud-Colic ; 4. Ou a Child's Death 
 
 A Paraphrase of Certain Psalms : — 
 Psalm I ......... 
 
 Psalm 2 ......... 
 
 Psalm 51 
 Psalm 91 
 
 129 
 
 171 
 171 
 172 
 173 
 173 
 174 
 17s 
 175 
 176 
 177 
 179 
 
 181 
 182 
 183 
 184 
 
 185 
 186 
 
 i8S 
 186 
 187 
 
 188 
 
 191 
 192 
 193 
 19s 
 
 Psalm 104 ......... 196 
 
 Psalm 113 . . . . . . . . 199 
 
 Psalm 114 200 
 
 Psalm 119 [imperfect] 200 
 
 Psalm 137 . , 205 
 
 Appendix of Notes (and twenty-four complete Poems) 211 
 
 Letters of Thomas Carew 
 Bibliography of Carew 
 Table of First Lines . 
 On Celia, and on Carew . 
 Index 
 
 256 
 260 
 265 
 272 
 273
 
 \_Thc original tiile-page of l/ie MASQUE, 1634, is on p. 1 29; 
 /zV/« (2/^ editio princeps, 1640, reproduced iiere.'] 
 
 POEMS 
 
 By 
 
 THOMAS CAREVV, 
 
 Esquire. 
 
 One of the Gentlemen of the 
 
 Privie-Chamber, and Sewer in 
 
 Ordinary to His Majesty. 
 
 London, 
 
 Printed by /. D. for TJiomas VValklcy, 
 
 and are to be Sold at the Signe of the 
 
 Flying Horfe, between Brittain's 
 
 Buri'e and York-Houfe. 
 
 1640
 
 Imprimatur, 
 
 Matthew Clay. 
 
 Aprill, 29. 1640.
 
 THE POEMS 
 
 OF 
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 
 
 The Spring. 
 
 ^. OW that the Winter's gone, the Earth hath 
 '■'■^ lost 
 
 Her snow-white robes ; and now no more 
 
 the frost 
 Candies the grass, or casts an icy cream 
 Upon the silver lake or crystal stream : 
 But the warm sun thaws the benumbed earth, 
 And makes it tender ; gives a second birth 
 To the dead Swallow ; wakes in hollow tree 
 The drowsy Cuckoo and the Humble-Bee. 
 Now do a choir of chirj^ing 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 lour, 
 Nor hath the scalding noon-day sun the jjower 
 To melt that marble ice, which still doth hold 
 Her heart congeal'd, and makes her jjity cold. 
 The ox, which lately did for shelter Hie 
 Into the stall, doth now securely lie 
 
 A
 
 THE POEMS OF 
 
 In open field ; and love no more is made 
 By tlie fire-side, l3ut in tlie cooler shade. 
 Amyntas now dotli by his Chris sleep 
 Under a Sycamore, and all tilings keep 
 
 Time with tlie season : only she doth carry 
 June in her eyes, in her heart January. 
 
 His Counsel to his Mistress, A. L. 
 Persuasions to Love, 
 
 THINK not, 'cause men flatt'ring say 
 You're fresh as A-pril, sweet as May, 
 Bright as is the morning star. 
 That you are so ; or, though you are. 
 Yet be not therefore proud, and deem 
 All men unworthy your esteem : 
 For, being so, you lose the pleasure 
 Of being fair, since that rich treasure 
 Of I'are beauty and sweet feature 
 Was bestow'd on you by nature 
 To be enjoy'd ; and 'twere a sin 
 There to be scarce, where she hath been 
 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 myself, not you ; 
 Were men so framed as they alone 
 Eeap'd all the pleasure, women none ; 
 Then had you reason to be scant : 
 But here 'tis madness not to grant 
 That which affords — if you consent- 
 To you, the giver, more content 
 Than me, the beggar. Oh, then be 
 Kind to yourself, if not to me.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 
 
 Starve not yourself, because you may 
 
 Thereby make me to pine away ; 
 
 Neither let brittle beauty make 
 
 You your wiser thoughts forsake ; 
 
 For that same lovely face will fail : 
 
 Beauty is sweet, Beauty is frail. 
 
 'Tis sooner past, 'tis sooner done, 
 
 Than Summer's rain, than Winter's sun ; 
 Most fleeting, when it is most dear : 
 'Tis gone, while we but say 'tis here. 
 
 These curious locks, so aptly twin'd. 
 Whose every hair a soul doth bind. 
 Will change their auburn hue, and grow 
 White and cold as Wintei-'s snow. 
 That eye, which now is CiqmVs nest, 
 Will prove his grave, and all the rest 
 Will follow him ; on cheek, chin, nose, 
 Will be no lily found, nor rose. 
 And what will then become of all 
 Those whom now you Servants call ? 
 
 Like swallows, when the Summer's done, 
 They'll fly, and seek some warmer sun. 
 
 Then wisely choose one for your Friend 
 Whose love may, when your beauties end, 
 Remain still fiini : be provident, 
 And think, before your Summer's spent, 
 Of following- Winter ; like the ant, 
 In plenty hoard for time of scant. 
 Cull out, amongst the multitude 
 Of lovers, who seek to intrude 
 Into your favour, one that may 
 Love for an age, not for a day ; 
 One that will cool your youthful fires. 
 And speed in age your hot desires. 
 For when the storms of time have moved 
 Waves on that cheek which was beloved ;
 
 4 THE POEMS OF 
 
 When a fair Lady's face is pined, 
 And yellow sjoread wliere red once sliined ; 
 When beauty, youth, and all sweets leave her, 
 Love may return, but Lovers never : 
 
 And old folks say, there are no pains 
 Like itch of love in aged veins. 
 
 love me, then, and now begin it. 
 Let us not lose this precious minute ; 
 For time and age will work that wrack 
 Which time and age can ne'er 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 beauties once decay. 
 You ne'er shall know a second Maj/. 
 
 O then, be wise, and whilst your season 
 Affords you days for sjwrt, do reason ; 
 Sj^end not in vain your life's short hour, 
 But crop in time your beauty's flower. 
 Which will away, and doth together 
 Both bud and fade, both blow and wither. 
 
 A Strife between Celia's Lips and Eyes. 
 
 IN Celiacs face a question did arise. 
 Which were more beautiful, her Lips or Eyes ? 
 " We," said the Eyes, " send forth those pointed darts 
 Which pierce the hardest adamantine hearts." 
 " From us," replied the Lips, " proceed those blisses 
 Which lovers reap by kind words and sweet kisses." 
 Then we^^t the Eyes, and from their sj^rings did pour 
 Of liquid Oriental pearls a shower ; 
 Whereat the Lips, moved with delight and pleasure, 
 Through a sweet smile unlock'd their ]3early treasure 
 And bade Love judge, whether did add more grace 
 Weeping or smiling Pearls to Celiacs face.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 
 
 A Divine Mistress. 
 
 IN Nature's pieces still I see 
 Some error that might mended be ; 
 Something my wish could still remove, 
 Alter or add ; but my fair Love 
 Was framed by hands far more divine, 
 For she hath every beauteous line : 
 Yet I had been far happier 
 Had Nature, that made me, made her. 
 
 Then likeness might (that Love creates) 
 Have made her love, what now she hate 
 Yet, I confess, I cannot spare 
 From her just shape the smallest hair ; 
 Nor need I beg from all the store 
 Of heaven for her one beauty more. 
 
 She hath too much Divinity for me 
 You Gods, teach her some more humanity 
 
 es 
 
 V, 
 
 On his Beautiful Mistress. 
 
 SO^TG. 
 
 IF when the Sun at noon displays 
 His brighter rays, 
 Thou but appear. 
 He then, all pale with shame and fear, 
 
 Quencheth his light, 
 Hides his dark brow, flies from thy sight, 
 And grows more dim. 
 Compared to thee, than stars to hiui. 
 
 If thou but show thy face again, 
 Wlien darkness doth at midnight reign,
 
 6 THE POEMS OF 
 
 The darkness flies, and liglit is liurl'd 
 
 Konnd abont the silent world : 
 So as alike thou drivest away 
 Both light and darkness, night and day. 
 
 A Cruel Mistress. 
 
 WE read of Gods and Kings that kindly took 
 A pitcher full of water from the brook ; 
 But I have daily tender'd ^\-ithout thanks 
 Rivers of tears that overflow their banks. 
 A slaughter'd bull appeased angry Jove, 
 A horse the Sun, a lamb tke God of Love ; 
 But she disdains the s^iotless sacrifice 
 Of a j)ure heart, that on her altar lies. 
 
 Vesta is not displeased, if her chaste urn 
 Doth with repaired fuel ever bi;rn ; 
 But my Saint frowais, though to her honour'd name 
 I consecrate a never-dying flame. 
 
 Th' Assxjrian King did none i' th' furnace throw 
 But such as would not to his Image bow ; 
 With bended knees I daily worship her, 
 Yet she consumes her own Idolater. 
 
 Of such a Goddess no times have record. 
 Who burns the temple where she was adored. 
 
 Murdering Beauty, 
 
 I'LL gaze no more on her bewitching face, 
 Since ruin harbours there in every place ; 
 For my enchanted Soul alike she drowns 
 With calms and tempests, of her smiles and frowns. 
 
 I'll love no more those cruel eyes of hers, 
 
 Which, ijleased or anger'd, still are murderers : 
 
 For if she dart, like lightning, through the air 
 
 Her beams of Avratli, she kills me with despair : 
 
 If she behold me with a pleasing eye, 
 
 I surfeit with excess of joy, and die.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 
 
 My Mistress Commanding me to Return 
 HER Letters. 
 
 SO grieves tli' advent'rous Merchant, when he throws 
 All the long toil'd-for treasure his ship stows 
 Into the angi'y main, to save from wrack 
 Himself and men, as I grieve to send Lack 
 These letters : yet so powerful is your sway 
 That, if you Lid me die, I must oLey. 
 
 Go then, Llest papers, you shall kiss those hands 
 That gave you freedom, Lut hold me in Lands ; 
 Which with a touch did give you life, Lut I, 
 Because I may not touch those hands, must die. 
 
 Methinks, as if they knew they should Le sent 
 Home to their native soil from Lanishment, 
 I see them smile, like dying Saints, that know 
 They are to leave earth, and tow'rd heaven go. 
 
 When you return, pray tell your sovereign 
 And mine, I gave you courteous entertaine ; 
 Each line received a tear, and then a kiss ; 
 First Lathed in that, it 'scaped unscorcli'd from this : 
 I kiss'd it 'cause her hand had once Leen there ; 
 But, 'cause it is not now, I shed a tear. 
 
 Tell her, no length of time, no change of air. 
 No cruelty, disdain, al:)sence, despair ; 
 No, nor her steadfast constancy, can deter 
 My vassal heart from ever honouring her. 
 Though these Le powerful 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 called love in verse : 
 Then pray her, since I send Lack on my part 
 Her pajDers, she will send me Lack my heart. 
 If she refuse, warn her to come Lefore 
 The God of Love, whom I will thus implore : 
 
 " Trav'lling thy countries o'er, great God, I spied 
 By chance this lady, and walk'd l^y her side.
 
 8 THE POEMS OF 
 
 From place to place, fearing no violence ; 
 For I was well-arm'd, and had made defence 
 In former figlits 'gainst fiercer foes than she 
 Did at the first encounter seem to be. 
 But, going farther, every step reveal'd 
 Some hidden weapon, till that time conceal'd. 
 
 " Seeing these outward arms, I did begin 
 To fear some greater strength was lodged 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 resist, did yield. 
 
 " But the insulting tyrant foe destroys 
 My conquer'd mind, my ease, my peace, my joys, 
 Breaks my sweet sleep, invades my harmless rest, 
 Robs me of all the treasures of my breast, 
 Spares not my heart, nor yet a greater wrong. 
 For, having stol'n my heart, she binds my tongue. 
 But at the last her melting eyes unseal'd 
 My lips, enlarged my tongue : then I reveal'd 
 To her own ears the story of my harms, 
 "Wrought by her virtues and her beauty's charms. 
 
 " Now hear, just Judge, an act of savageness ; 
 When I complain, in hope to find redress, 
 She bends her angry brow, and from lier eye 
 Shoots thousand darts. Then I well hoped to die ; 
 But in such sovereign balm Love dips his shot. 
 That, though they wound a heart, they kill it not. 
 She saw the blood gush forth from many a wound, 
 Yet fled, and left me bleeding on the ground. 
 Nor sought my cure, nor saw me since : 'tis true, 
 Absence and Time, two cunning Leaches, drew 
 The flesh together ; yet, sure, though the skin 
 Be closed without, the wound festers within. 
 
 " Thus hath this cruel Lady used a true 
 Servant and subject to herself and you ; 
 Nor know I, great Love, if my life be lent 
 To show thy mercy or my punishment :
 
 THOMAS CAREW 9 
 
 Since by tlie only magic of thy Art 
 
 A lover still may live that wants his heart. 
 
 " If this indictment 'fright her, so that 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 would make me amends, 
 Bid her but send me her's, and we are friends." 
 
 Secrecy Protested. 
 
 FEAR not, dear Love, that I'll reveal 
 Those hours of pleasure we two steal ; 
 No eye shall see, nor yet the Sun 
 Descry, what thou and I have done. 
 
 No ear shall hear our love, but we 
 
 As silent as the night will be ; 
 
 The God of Love himself (whose dart 
 
 Did first wound mine, and then thy heart), 
 
 Shall never know that we can tell 
 What sweets in stol'n embraces dwell. 
 This only means mav find it out : 
 If, when I die, physicians doubt 
 
 What caused my death, and there to view 
 Of all their judgments which was true, — 
 Rip up my heart, oh ! then, I fear. 
 The world will see thy picture there. 
 
 A Prayer to the Wind. 
 
 SONG: A SIGH. 
 
 GO, thou gentle whis])ering wind, 
 Bear this Sigh ! and if thou find 
 Where my cruel fair doth rest, 
 Cast it in her snowy breast,
 
 10 THE POEMS OF 
 
 So, inflamed by my desire, 
 It may set her heart on fire. 
 
 Those sweet kisses thou shalt gain, 
 Will reward thee for thy pain ; 
 Boldly light upon her lip, 
 There suck odours, and thence skip 
 To her bosom : lastly fall 
 Do^\Ti, and wander over all. 
 
 Range about those ivory hills, 
 From whose every jjart distils 
 Amber dew ; there spices grow. 
 There pure streams of nectar flow : 
 There perfume thyself, and bring 
 All those sweets upon thy wing. 
 
 As thou return'st, change by thy power 
 Every weed into a flower ; 
 Turn every thistle to a Vine, 
 Make the bramble Eglantine : 
 For so rich a booty made, 
 Do but this, and I am paid. 
 
 Tliou can'st with thy powerful blast 
 Heat ajjace, and cool as fast ; 
 Thou can'st kindle hidden flame. 
 And again destroy the same : 
 Tlien, for pitj^, either stir 
 Up the Fire of Love in her. 
 
 That alike both flames may shine, 
 Or else quite extinguish mine. 
 
 Mediocrity in Love Rejected, 
 
 SONG. 
 
 GIVE me more Love, or more Disdain ; 
 The torrid or the frozen zone 
 Bring equal ease mito my pain, 
 
 The temperate aftbrds me none : 
 Either extreme, of love or hate, 
 Is sweeter than a calm estate.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 11 
 
 Give me a storm : if it be Love, 
 
 Like Dance, in that golden shower, 
 I swim in pleasure ; if it prove 
 
 Disdain, that torrent will devour 
 My vulture-hopes ; and he's possessed 
 Of Heaven, that's but from Hell released. 
 Then crown my joys, or cure my pain : 
 Give me moi'e Love, or more Disdain. 
 
 Good Counsel to a Young Maid. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 GAZE not on thy beauties' pride. 
 Tender Maid, in the false tide 
 That from Lovers' eyes doth slide. 
 
 Let thy faithful Crystal show 
 How thy colours come and go : 
 Beauty takes a foil from woe. 
 
 Love, that in those smooth streams lies 
 Under Pity's fair disguise, 
 Will thy melting heart surprise. 
 
 Nets of Passion's finest thread, 
 Snaring poems, will he spread, 
 All to catch thy maidenhead. 
 
 Then beware ! for those that cure 
 Love's disease, themselves endure 
 For reward a Calenture. ["= a hot 
 
 Lftiver. 
 
 Rather let the Lover pine. 
 
 Than his pale cheek should assign 
 
 A perpetual blush to thine.
 
 12 THE POEMS OF 
 
 To MY Mistress, sitting by a Eiver's side. 
 
 AN EDDY. 
 
 MAEK, how yon Eddy steals away 
 From the rude stream into the Bay ; 
 There, lock'd up safe, she doth divorce 
 Her waters from the channel's course, 
 And scorns the torrent that did bring 
 Her headlong from her native spring. 
 
 Now doth she with her new Love i>lay, 
 Whilst he nms murmuring away. 
 
 Mark, how she courts the banks, whilst they 
 As amorously their arms disjalay, 
 T' embrace, and clip her silver waves : 
 See how she strokes their sides, and craves 
 An entrance there, which they deny ; 
 Whereat she frowns, threat'ning to fly 
 Home to her stream, and 'gins to swim 
 Backward, but from the channel's brim 
 Smiling returns into the creek. 
 With thousand dimples on her cheek. 
 
 Be thou this Eddy, and I'll make 
 
 My breast thy shore, where thou shalt take 
 
 Secure repose, and never dream 
 
 Of the quite forsaken stream ; 
 
 Let him to the wide Ocean haste, 
 
 There lose his colour, name, and taste : 
 
 Thou shalt save all, and, safe from him, 
 Within these arms for ever swim. 
 
 E 
 
 Conquest by Flight : A Song. 
 ADIES, fly from Love's soft tale ! 
 
 Oaths steep'd in tears do oft prevail ; 
 Grief is infectious, and the air 
 Enflamed with sighs Avill blast the Fair.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 13 
 
 Then stojj your eai'S, A\iieii Lovers cry, 
 Lest yourseh'BS weep, wlien no soft eye 
 
 Shall with a sorrowing tear repay 
 
 That pity which you cast away. 
 
 Young men, fly ! when Beauty darts 
 Amorous glances at your hearts : 
 The fix'd mark gives the shooter aim ; 
 And Ladies' looks have power to maim ; 
 Now 'twixt their lips, now in their eyes, 
 Wrapt in a smile or kiss, Love lies : 
 
 Then fly betimes, for only they 
 
 Conquer Love that run away. 
 
 To MY Inconstant Mistress. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 WHEN thou, poor Excommunicate 
 From all the joys of Love, shalt see 
 The full reward and glorious fate 
 
 Which my strong faith.shall purchase me, 
 Then curse thine own Inconstancy. 
 
 A fairer hand than thine shall cure 
 
 That heart, which thy false oaths did wound ; 
 
 And to my soul a soul more pure 
 
 Than thine shaU by Love's hand be bound. 
 And both with equal glory crown'd. 
 
 Then shalt thou weep, entreat, complain 
 
 To Love, as I did once to thee ; 
 When all thy tears shall be as vain 
 
 As mine were then : for thou shalt be 
 
 Damn'd for thy false Apostacy.
 
 U THE POEMS OF 
 
 Persuasions to Joy : A Song. 
 
 IF tlie quick spirits in your eye 
 Now languish, and anon must die ; 
 If every sweet, and every grace 
 Must fly from tliat forsaken face : 
 Then, Celia, let us reap our joys 
 Ere time such goodly fruit destroys. 
 
 Or, if that golden fleece must grow 
 
 For ever, free from aged snow ; 
 
 If those bright suns must know no shade, 
 
 Nor your fresh beauties ever fade, 
 
 Then fear not, Celia, to bestow 
 
 Wlrat, still being gather'd, still must grow. 
 Thus, either Time his sickle brings 
 In vain, or else in vain his wings. 
 
 A Deposition from Love. 
 
 I WAS foretold, your Eebel sex 
 Nor Love nor Pity knew ; 
 And with what scorn you use to vex 
 
 Poor hearts that humbly sue. 
 Yet I believed, to crown our pain, 
 
 Could we the fortress win. 
 The happy Lover sure should gain 
 
 A Paradise within : 
 I thought Love's plagues, like dragons, sate 
 Only to fright us at the gate. 
 
 But 1 did enter, and enjoy 
 
 What happier Lovers prove ; 
 For I could kiss, and sport, and toy, 
 
 And taste those sweets of Love, 
 Which, had they but a lasting state, 
 
 Or if in Celia's breast
 
 THOMAS GAREW. 15 
 
 The force of love might not abate, 
 
 Jove were too mean a guest : 
 But now her breach of faith far more 
 Afflicts, than did her scorn before. 
 
 Hard fate ! to have been once possess'd 
 
 As Victor of a heart, 
 Achieved with labour and unrest, 
 
 And then forced to depart. 
 If the stout Foe will not resign. 
 
 When I besiege a Town, 
 I lose but what was never mine ; 
 
 But he that is cast down 
 From enjoy'd Beauty, feels a woe 
 Only deposed kings can know. 
 
 Ingrateful Beauty Threatened. 
 
 KNOW, Celia, since thou art so proud, 
 'Twas I that gave thee thy renown. 
 Thou liad'st in the forgotten crowd 
 
 Of common Beauties lived unknown, 
 Had not my verse extoll'd thy name. 
 And with it ympt the wings of Fame. {Note. 
 
 That killing power is none of thine : 
 
 I gave it to thy voice and eyes ; 
 Thy sweets, thy graces, all are mine ; 
 
 Thou art my Star, shin'st in my skies : 
 Then dart not from thy Ijorrow'd sj)here 
 Lightning on him that fix'd thee there. 
 
 Tempt me with such affrights no more. 
 
 Lest what I made I uncreate ; 
 Let fools thy mystic forms adore, 
 
 I know thee in thy Mortal state. 
 Wise poets that wrapt Truth in tales. 
 Knew her themselves through all her veils.
 
 16 THE POEMS OF 
 
 Disdain Returned. 
 
 HE tliat loves a rosy cheek, 
 Or a coral lip admires, 
 Or, from star-like eyes, doth seek 
 
 Fuel to maintain his fires ; 
 As old Time makes these decay, 
 So his flames must waste away. 
 
 But a smooth and steadfast mind, 
 Gentle thoughts and calm desires, 
 
 Hearts with equal love combined. 
 Kindle never-dying fires. 
 
 Where these are not, I despise 
 
 Lovely cheeks, or lips, or eyes. 
 
 No tears, Celia, now shall win 
 My resolved heart to return ; 
 
 I have search'd thy soul within. 
 And find nought but pride and scorn. 
 
 I have learn'd thy arts, and now 
 
 Can disdain as much as thou. 
 
 Some Power in my revenge convey 
 That Love to her I cast away. 
 
 A Looking-Glass. 
 
 THAT flatt'ring Glass, whose smooth face wears 
 Your shadow, which a Sun appears, 
 Was once a river of my tears. 
 
 About your cold heart they did make 
 A circle, where the briny lake 
 Congealed into a Crystal cake. 
 
 Gaze no more on that killing eye, 
 For fear the native cruelty 
 Doom vou, as it doth all, to die :
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 17 
 
 For fear lest the fair object move 
 Your froward heart to fall in love : 
 Then you yourself your Rival prove. 
 
 Look rather on my pale cheeks joined, 
 There view your beauties, there you'll find 
 A fair face, but a cruel mind. 
 
 Be not for ever frozen, coy ! 
 
 One beam of Love will soon destroy 
 
 And melt that ice to floods of joy. 
 
 An Elegy on the Lady Pennington: 
 Sent to my Mistress out of France. 
 
 LET him, who from his tyrant Mistress did 
 -< This day receive his cruel doom, forbid 
 His eyes to weep that loss, and let him here 
 Open those flood-gates to bedew this Bier ; 
 So shall those drops, which else would be but brine, 
 Be turned to Manna, falling on her shrine. 
 
 Let him who, Ijanish'd far from her dear sight, 
 Whom his soul loves, doth in that absence write, 
 Or lines of passion, or some powerful charms, 
 To vent his own grief, or unlock her arms ; 
 Take off his pen, and in sad verse bemoan 
 This general sorrow, and forget his own. 
 So may those Verses live, which else must die ; 
 For though the Muses give eternity 
 When they embalm with verse, yet she could give 
 Life unto that Muse by which others live. 
 
 Oh, pardon me, fair Soul ! that boldly have 
 Dropp'd, though but one tear, on thy silent grave, 
 And writ on that earth, which such honour had. 
 To clothe that flesh wherein thy self was clad. 
 
 B
 
 18 THE POEMS OF 
 
 And pardon me, sweet Saint ! whom I adore, 
 That I this tribute pay out of the store 
 Of lines and tears that were due unto thee : 
 Oh, do not think it new Idolatry, 
 Tliough you are only-sovereign of this Land, 
 Yet universal losses may command 
 A subsidy from every private eye, 
 And press each pen to write : so to supply 
 And feed the common grief. If this excuse 
 Prevail not, take these tears to your own use, 
 As shed for you : for when I saw her die, 
 I then did think on your mortality. 
 
 For since nor virtue, will, nor beauty, could 
 Preserve from Death's hand this their heavenly mould, 
 Where they were framed all, and where they dwelt, 
 I then knew you must die too, and did melt 
 Into these tears ; but, thinking on that day. 
 And when the gods resolved to take away 
 A Saint from us, I that did know what dearth 
 There was of such good souls upon the earth, 
 Began to fear lest Death, their officer, 
 Might have mistook, and taken thee for her : 
 So had'st thou robb'd us of that happiness 
 Which she in heaven, and I in thee possess. 
 
 But what can heaven to her glory add ? 
 The praises she hath, dead, living she had. 
 To say she's now an Angel, is no more 
 Praise than she had, for she was one before. 
 Which of the Saints can show more votaries 
 Than she had here ? Even those that did despise 
 The Angels, and may her, now she is one, 
 Did whil'st she lived with pure devotion 
 Adore and worship her : Her virtues had 
 All honour here, for this world was too bad 
 To hate or envy her ; these cannot rise- 
 So high as to repine at Deities : 
 
 But now she's 'mongst her fellow- Saints, they may 
 Be good enough to envy her, this way.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 19 
 
 There's loss i' tli' change 'twixt heaven and earth, ii' she 
 Should leave her servants here below to be 
 Hated of her competitors above ; 
 But sure her matchless goodness needs must move 
 Those blest souls to admire her excellence ; 
 By this means only can her journey hence 
 To heaven prove gain, if, as she was but here 
 WorshijDp'd by Men, she be by Angels there. 
 
 But I must weep no more over this Urn, 
 My tears to their own channel must return ; 
 And having ended these sad obsequies, 
 My Muse must back to her old exercise, 
 To tell the story of my martyrdom. 
 But oh, thou Idol of my soul ! become 
 Once pitiful, that she may change her style, 
 Dry up her blubber'd eyes, and learn to smile. 
 Rest then, blest Soul ! for, as ghosts fly away 
 When the shrill cock proclaims the infant-day. 
 So must I hence, for lo ! I see from far 
 The minions of the Muses coming are : 
 
 Each of them bringing to thy sacred Hearse 
 In either eye a tear, each hand a verse. 
 
 To HIS Mistress in Absence. 
 
 THOUGH I must live here, and by force 
 Of your command suffer divorce ; 
 Though I am parted, yet my mind 
 (That's more my self) still stays behind. 
 I breathe in you, j'ou keep my heart, 
 'Twas but a carcass that did part. 
 Then though our bodies are disjoin'd, 
 As things that are to place confined, 
 Yet let our boundless spirits meet, 
 And in Love's sphere each other greet ; 
 There let us work a mystic wreath, 
 Unknown unto the world beneath :
 
 20 THE POEMS OF 
 
 There let our clasi^'d loves sweetly 'twine, 
 There let our secret thoughts unseen 
 Like nets be weaved and inter-twined, 
 Wherewith we'll catch each other's mind. 
 There, whilst our souls do sit and kiss. 
 Tasting a sweet and subtle bliss, 
 (Such as gross lovers cannot know. 
 Whose hands and lips meet here below). 
 Let us look down, and mark what pain 
 Our absent bodies here sustain ; 
 And smile to see how far away 
 The one doth from the other stray, 
 Yet burn and languish with desire 
 To join, and quench their mutual fire ; 
 Where let us joy to see from far 
 Our emulous flames at loving war : 
 Whilst both with equal lustre shine. 
 Mine bright as yours, yours bright as mine. 
 There, seated in those heavenly bowers 
 We'll cheat the lag and ling'ring hours, 
 Making our bitter absence sweet, 
 Till souls and bodies both may meet. 
 
 To Her in Absence, 
 
 A SHIP. 
 
 TOST in a troubled sea of griefs, I float 
 Far from the shore, in a storm-beaten boat ; 
 Where my sad thoughts do, like the Compass, show 
 The several points from which cross-winds do blow. 
 My heart doth, like the needle, touch'd with love. 
 Still fix'd on you, point which way I would move ; 
 You 're the bright Pole-star, which, in the dark 
 Of this long absence, guides my wand'ring bark ; 
 Love is the Pilot : but, o'er-come with fear 
 Of your displeasure, dares not homewards steer. 
 My fearful hope hangs on my trembling sail, 
 Nothing is wanting but a gentle gale ;
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 21 
 
 Which pleasant breath must blow from your sweet lip : 
 Bid it but move, and quick as thought this Ship 
 Into your arms, which are my port, will fly, 
 Where it for ever sliall at Anchor lie. 
 
 Eternity of Love Protested. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 HOW ill doth lie deserve a Lover's name 
 Whose pale weak flame 
 Cannot retain 
 His heat, in spite of absence or disdain ; 
 But doth at once, like paper set on fire, 
 
 Burn and expire ! 
 True love can never change his seat ; 
 Nor did he ever love that can retreat. 
 
 That noble flame, which my Ijreast keeps alive. 
 Shall still survive 
 Wlien my soul's fled ; 
 
 Nor shall my love die, when ray Ijody's dead ; 
 
 That shall wait on me to the lower shade, 
 And never fade : 
 
 My very ashes in their urn 
 
 Shall, like a hallowed lamp, for ever burn. 
 
 Upon some Alterations in my Mistress, 
 after my departure into france. 
 
 OH, gentle Love, do not forsake the guide 
 Of my frail Bark, on which the swelling tide 
 Of ruthless Pride 
 Doth beat, and thi'eaten wrack from every side. 
 Gulfs of Disdain do gape to overwhelm 
 This boat, nigh sunk with grief ; whilst at the helm 
 
 Despair commands ; 
 And, round about, the shifting sands
 
 22 THE POEMS OF 
 
 Of faithless love and false inconstancy, 
 
 With rocks of Cruelty, 
 Stop up my passage to the neighbour Lands. 
 
 My sighs have raised those winds, whose fury bears 
 My sails o'erboard, and in their place spreads fears ; 
 
 And from my tears 
 This Sea is sprung, where nought but death appears. 
 A mystic cloud of anger hides the light 
 Of my fair Star ; and everywhere black night 
 
 Usurps the place 
 Of tliose bright rays, which once did grace 
 My forth-bound Ship : but when it could no more 
 
 Behold the vanish'd shore, 
 In the deep flood she drown'd her beamy face. 
 
 cf. p. II.] Good Counsel to a Young Maid. 
 
 WHEN you the sun-burn'd Pilgrim see 
 Fainting with thirst, haste to the springs ; 
 Mark how at first with Ijended knee 
 
 He courts the crystal Nymph, and flings 
 His body to the earth, where he 
 Prostrate adores the flowing Dei tie. 
 
 But when his heated face is drench'd 
 
 In her cool waves, \Adien from her sweet 
 
 Bosom his burning thirst is quench'd, 
 
 Then mark, how with disdainful feet 
 
 He kicks her banks, and from the place 
 
 That thus refresh'd him, moves with sullen pace. 
 
 So shalt thou be despised, fair Maid, 
 
 When by the sated Lover tasted ; 
 
 What first he did with tears inA^ade 
 
 Shall afterward with scorn be wasted : 
 
 AVhen all thy Virgin-springs grow dry. 
 
 Then no stream shall be left but in thine eye.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 23 
 
 Celia Bleeding. 
 to the surgeon. 
 
 FOND man, that can'st believe lier blood 
 AVill from those purple channels How ; 
 Or that the pure untainted flood 
 Can any foul distemper kno\v ; 
 Or that thy weak steel can incize 
 The crystal case wherein it lies : — 
 
 Know, her quick blood, proud of his seat, 
 Runs dancing through her azure veins ; 
 
 Whose harmony nor cold nor heat 
 
 Disturbs, whose hue no tincture stains : 
 
 And the hard rock, wherein it dwells, 
 
 The keenest darts of Love repels. 
 
 But thou reply's ' Behold, she bleeds ! ' 
 
 Fool ! thou'rt deceived, and do'st not know 
 
 The mystic knot whence this pi-oceeds. 
 How Lovers in each other grow : 
 
 Thou struck'st her arm, but 'twas my heart 
 
 Shed all the blood, felt all the smart. 
 
 To T. H., A Lady resembling my Mistress. 
 
 FAIR copy of my Celia' s face, 
 Twin of my Love, thy perfect grace 
 May claim with her an equal place. 
 
 Disdain not a divided heart ; 
 
 Though all be hers, you shall have part : 
 
 Love is not tied to rules of art. 
 
 For as my soul first to her flew, 
 Yet stay'd with me, so now 'tis true 
 It dwells with her, though fled to you.
 
 24 THE POEMS OF 
 
 Then entertain this wand'ring gnest, 
 And if not love, allow it rest : 
 It left not, but mistook, the nest. 
 
 Kor think my Love, or your fair eyes, 
 Cheaper, 'cause from the sympathies 
 You hold with her these flames arise. 
 
 To lead or brass, or some such bad 
 Metal, a Prince's stamp may add 
 That value which it never had : 
 
 But to the pure refined Ore 
 
 The stamp of kings imparts no more 
 
 Worth, than the metal held before. 
 
 Only the image gives the rate, 
 To subjects of a foreign state : 
 'Tis prized as much for its own weight. 
 
 So though all other hearts resign 
 
 To your pure worth, yet you are mine 
 
 Only because you are her coin. 
 
 On his Ejttertainment at Saxham, 1634. 
 
 THOUGH frost and snow lock'd from mine eyes 
 That beauty which Avithout-door lies, 
 Thy gardens, orchards, walks, that so 
 I might not all thy pleasures know, 
 Yet, Saxham, thou within thy gate 
 Art of thy self so delicate, 
 So full of natiA^e sweets, that bless 
 Thy roof with inward happiness, 
 As neither from, nor to, thy store 
 Winter takes aught, or Spring adds more.
 
 THOMAS GAREW. 25 
 
 The cold and frozen air had starved 
 Mnch Poor, if not by thee preserved, 
 Whose prayers have made thy table blest 
 With plenty, far above the rest. 
 The season hardly did afford 
 Coarse cates unto thy neighbours' board, 
 Yet thou had'st dainties : as the sky 
 Had onlv been thy Votarv ; f^' 
 
 Or else the bii'ds, fearing the snow 
 Might to another Deluge grow, 
 The pheasant, partridge, and the lark 
 Flew to thy house, as to the Ark. 
 The willing ox of himself came 
 Home to the slaughter, with the lamb ; 
 And every beast did thither bring 
 Himself, to be an offei-ing. 
 The scaly herd more pleasure took. 
 Bathed in thy dish, than in the brook ; 
 Water, earth, air, did all conspire 
 To pay their tribute to thy fire, 
 Whose cherishing flames themselves divide 
 Through every room, where they deride 
 The night and cold abroad : whilst they, 
 Like suns, within, keep endless day. 
 
 Those cheerful beams send forth their ligh t 
 To all that wander in the nisrht. 
 And seem to beckon from aloof 
 The weary Pilgrim to thy roof ; 
 Where, when refresh'd, if he'll away, 
 He's faii'ly welcome ; but, if he stay. 
 Far more ; which he shall hearty find 
 Both from the master and the hind : 
 The Stranger's Welcome each man there 
 Stamp'd on his cheerful brow doth wear. 
 Nor doth his welcome or his cheer 
 Grow less, 'cause he stays longer there. 
 There's none observes, much less repines, 
 How often this man sups or dines. 
 
 led., 
 blarie.
 
 26 THE POEMS OF 
 
 Thou hast no Porter at ihj door 
 To examine or keep back the Poor ; 
 Nor locks nor bolts : thy gates have been 
 Made only to let strangers in. 
 Untaught to shut, they do not fear 
 To stand wide open all the year, 
 Careless who enters, for they know 
 Thou never did'st deserve a foe : 
 
 And as for thieves, thy bounty's such, 
 They cannot steal, thou givest so much. 
 
 Upon a Ribbon, tied about his Arm by a Lady. 
 
 n^HIS silken wreath, that circles-in my arm, 
 -L Is but an emblem of that mystic charm 
 
 ^^^lerewith the magic of your Beauty binds 
 
 My caj^tive soul, and round about it winds 
 
 Fetters of lasting love. This hath entwined 
 
 My flesh alone ; that hath empaled my mind. 
 
 Time may wear out these soft weak bands, but those 
 
 Strong chains of brass Fate shall not discompose. 
 This holy relic may preserve my wrist. 
 
 But my whole frame doth by that power subsist : 
 
 To that my prayers and sacrifice, to this 
 
 I only pay a superstitious kiss. 
 
 This but an idol, that's the Deity : 
 
 Religion there is due ; here, ceremony. 
 
 Tliat I received by faith, this but in trust ; 
 
 Here I may tender duty : there, I must. 
 
 This order as a layman I may l)ear, 
 
 But I become Love's Priest when that I wear. 
 
 This moves like air, that as the centre stands ; 
 
 Tliat knot your virtues tied : this, but your hands. 
 That, Nature framed ; but this was made by Art : 
 This, makes my arm your prisoner ; that, my heart.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 27 
 
 To THE King, at his Entrance into Saxham. 
 
 SPOKEN BY MASTER JOHN CROFTS. 
 
 SIR, ere you jiass this threshold, stay. 
 And give your creature lea\e to pay 
 Those pious rites, which unto you, 
 As to our houseliold gods, are due. 
 In stead of sacrifice, each breast 
 Is like a flaming altar drest 
 
 With zealous fires, which from jinre hearts 
 Love mixed with loyalty imparts. 
 
 Incense nor gold have we, yet In-ing 
 
 As rich and sweet an offering ; 
 
 And such as doth both these express, 
 
 Which is our humble thankfulness ; 
 
 By which is paid the all we owe 
 
 To gods above, or men l^elow. 
 
 The slaughter'd beast, whose flesh should feed 
 
 The hungry flames, we for pure need 
 
 Dress for your supper ; and the gore 
 
 Which should be dash'd on every door. 
 
 We change into the lusty blood 
 
 Of youthful Vines, of which a flood 
 
 Shall sprightly run througli all our veins. 
 First to your health, then your fair Train's. 
 
 We shall want nothing but good fare, 
 To show yoTir welcome and our care ; 
 Such rarities, that come from far, 
 From j)Oor men's houses banish'd are : 
 Yet we'll exj^ress in homely cheer 
 How glad we are to see you here. 
 We'll have what-soe' the season yields, 
 Out of the neighljouring woods and fields ; 
 For all the dainties of your board 
 Will only l^e what those afford. 
 
 And, haAang supp'd, Ave may perchance 
 Present you with a Country dance.
 
 28 THE POEMS OF 
 
 Thus much your servants, that bear sway- 
 Here in your absence, bade me say ; 
 And beg, besides, you'ld hither bring 
 Only the mercy of a King, 
 And not the greatness : since they have 
 A thousand faults must pardon crave, 
 But nothing that is tit to wait 
 Upon the glory of your State. 
 Yet your gracious favour will, 
 They hope, as heretofore, shine still 
 
 On their endeaA'ours, for they swore 
 Should Jove descend, they could no more. 
 
 M 
 
 Upon the Sickness of E. S. 
 
 UST she then languish, and we sorrow thus, 
 -L VX And no kind god help her, or pity us ? 
 Is justice fled from heaven ? can that permit 
 A foul deformed ravisher to sit 
 Upon her virgin cheek, and pull from thence 
 The rose-buds in their maiden excellence ? 
 To spread cold paleness on her lips, and chase 
 The frighted rubies from their native place ? 
 To lick ujj with his searching flames a flood 
 Of dissolved coral, flowing in her blood ; 
 
 And with the damps of his infectious breath 
 Print on her brow moist characters of death ? 
 
 Must the clear light, 'gainst course of nature, cease 
 In her fair eyes, and yet the flames increase ? 
 Must fevers shake this goodly tree, and all 
 That ripen'd fruit from the fair branches fall. 
 Which princes have desired to taste ? Must she. 
 Who hath preserved her spotless chastity 
 From all solicitation, now at last 
 By agues and diseases be embraced ?
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 29 
 
 Forbid it, liul}' Dian I else who shall 
 Pay vows, or let one grain of incense fall 
 On thy neglected altars, if thou bless 
 No better this thy zealous votaress 1 
 Haste then, maiden Goddess ! to her aid ; 
 Let on thy quiver her pale cheek be laid, 
 And rock her fainting body in thine arms ; 
 Then let the God of Music with still charms 
 Her restless eyes in peaceful slumbers close, 
 And with soft strains sweeten her calm repose. 
 
 Cupid, descend I and whilst Apollo sings, 
 Fanning the cool air with thy panting wings 
 Ever supply her with refreshing wind ; 
 Let thy fair mother with her tresses bind 
 Her labouring temples, with whose balmy sweat 
 She shall perfume her hairy Coronet, 
 Whose ijrecious drops shall upon every fold 
 Hang like rich pearls about a wreath of gold ; 
 Her looser locks, as they unbraided lie, 
 Shall spread themselves into a canopy ; 
 Under whose shadow let her rest secure 
 From chilling cold or Ijurning Calenture : [p. 
 
 Unless she freeze with ice of chaste desires, 
 Or holy Hi/men kindle nuptial fires : 
 
 And when at last Death comes to pierce her heart, 
 
 Convey into his hand thy golden dart. 
 
 A New- Year's Sacrifice. 
 
 TO LDCINDA, 1632. 
 
 THOSE that can give, open their hands this day ; 
 Those that cannot, yet hold them up to pray, 
 That health may crown the seasons of this year. 
 And mirth dance round the circle ; that no tear, 
 Unless of joy, may with its briny dew 
 Discolour on your cheek the rosy hue ; 
 That no access of years presume t' abate 
 Your Beauty's ever-flourishing estate.
 
 30 THE POEMS OF 
 
 Such cheap and vulgar wishes I could lay- 
 As trivial offerings at your feet this day ; 
 But that it were apostacy in me 
 To send a prayer to any Deity 
 But your divine self, who have power to give 
 Those blessings unto others : such as live, 
 Like me, by the sole influence of your eyes, 
 Whose fair aspects govern our destinies. 
 
 Such incense, vows, and holy rites as were 
 To the Involved Serpent of the Year 
 Paid by Egyptian priests, lay I before 
 Zucinda's sacred shrine, whilst I adore 
 Her beauteous eyes, and her pure altars dress 
 With gums and spice of humble thankfulness. 
 So may my Goddess from her heaven inspire 
 My frozen bosom with a Delphic fire ; 
 
 And then the world shall, by that glorious flame. 
 Behold the blaze of thy immortal name. 
 
 Song : To One who, when I praised my Mistress's 
 Beauty, said I was blind. 
 
 WONDEE not, though I am blind, 
 For you must be 
 Dark in your eyes or in your mind, 
 
 If, when you see 
 Her face, you prove not blind like me. 
 If the powerful beams that fly 
 From her eye, 
 And those amorous sweets that lie 
 Scatter'd in each neighbouring jaart, 
 Find a jjassage to your heart ; 
 Then you'U confess your mortal sight 
 Too weak for such a glorious light : 
 For if her graces you discover. 
 You grow, like me, a dazzled lover : 
 But if those beauties you not spy, 
 Then are you blinder far than I.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 31 
 
 To MY Mistress, I burning in Love. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 I BURN ! ami cruel you, in vain 
 Hope to quencli me witli disdain ; 
 If from your eyes those sparkles came 
 That have kindled all this flame, 
 What boots it me, though now you shroud 
 Those fierce comets in a cloud ? 
 Since all the flames that I have felt 
 Could your snow yet never melt : 
 Nor can your snow, though you should take 
 Alps into your bosom, slake 
 The heat of my enamour'd heart ; 
 But, with wonder, learn Love's art : 
 No seas of ice can cool desire, 
 Equal flames must quench Love's fire. 
 
 Then, think not that my heat can die, 
 
 Till you burn as well as I. 
 
 To HER AGAIN, SHE BURNING IN A FeVER. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 NOW she burns, as well as I, 
 Yet my heat can never die ; 
 
 She burns, that never knew desire, 
 
 She that was ice, she now is fire. 
 
 She whose cold heart chaste thoughts did arm 
 
 So as Love's flames could never warm 
 
 The frozen bosom where it dwelt, 
 
 She burns, and all her beavities melt. 
 
 She burns, and cries, ' Love's fires are mild : 
 
 Fevers are Gods, and he is a Cliild.' 
 
 Love, let her know the difterence 
 
 'Twixt the heat of soul and sense : 
 
 Touch her with thy flames divine. 
 
 So shalt thou quench her fire, and mine.
 
 32 THE POEMS OF 
 
 Upon the King's Sickness. 
 
 SICKNESS, the minister of Death, doth lay 
 So strong a siege against our brittle clay, 
 As, whilst it doth our weak forts singly win, 
 It hopes at length to take all mankind in. 
 First, it begins ujwn the womb to \\'ait, 
 And doth the unborn Child there uncreate ; 
 Then rocks the cradle where the Infant lies, 
 Where, ere it fully be alive, it dies. 
 It never leaves fond Youth, mitil it have 
 Found or an early or a later grave. 
 By thousand subtle sleights from heedless Man 
 It cuts the short allowance of a span ; 
 And where both sober life and art combine 
 To keep it out, Age makes them both resign. 
 Thus, by degrees, it only gain'd of late 
 The weak, the aged, or intemperate. 
 
 But now the Tyrant hath found out a way 
 By which the sober, strong, and young decay ; 
 Ent'ring his Royal limbs that is our head : 
 Through us (his mystic limbs) the pain is spread. 
 That man Avho doth not feel his [share] hath none 
 In any part of his dominion ; 
 
 If he hold land, that earth is forfeited, 
 And he unfit on any ground to tread. 
 
 This grief is felt at Court, where it doth move 
 Through every joint, like the true soul of love. 
 All those fair stars, that do attend on Him 
 Whence they derived their light, wax pale and dim. 
 r. Charles.] That ruddy morning beam of Majesty, 
 
 Which should the sun's eclipsed light supply, 
 
 Is overcast with mists, and in the lieu 
 
 Of cheerful rays sends us down drops of dew.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 33 
 
 That curious form, made of an earth refined, 
 At whose blest birth the gentle Planets shined 
 With fair aspects, and sent a glorious flame 
 To animate so beautiful a frame, 
 That Darling of the gods and men doth wear 
 A cloud on 's brow, and in his eye a tear. 
 And all the rest, save when his dread command 
 Doth bid them move, like lifeless statues stand. 
 
 So full a grief, so generally worn. 
 
 Shows a good King is sick, and good men mourn. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 To A Lady, not yet enjoyed by her Husband. 
 
 COME, Cella., fix thine eyes on mine. 
 And througli those crystals our souls flitting 
 Shall a pure wreath of eye-beams twine. 
 
 Our loving hearts together knitting. 
 Let Eaglets the bright Sun survey, 
 Though the blind Mole discern not day. 
 
 When clear A urora leaves her mate. 
 The light of her grey eyes despising, 
 
 Yet all the world doth celeljrate 
 With sacrifice her fair up-rising. 
 
 Let Eaglets the bright Sun survey, 
 
 Though the blind Mole discern not dmj. 
 
 A Dragon ke23t the golden fruit, 
 
 Yet he those dainties never tasted ; 
 As others jiined in the pursuit. 
 
 So he himself with plenty wasted. 
 Let Eaglets the bright Sun survey, 
 Though the blind Mole discern not day.
 
 34 THE POEMS OF 
 
 The Willing Prisoner to his Mistress. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 LET fools gi-eat Ciqnd's yoke disdain, 
 J Lo\dng their own wild freedom better ; 
 Whilst, proud of my triumphant chain, 
 I sit, and court my beauteous fetter. 
 
 Her murd'ring glances, snaring hairs. 
 And her bewitching smiles so please me ; 
 
 As he brings ruin, who repairs 
 
 The sweet afflictions that disease me. 
 
 Hide not those panting balls of snow 
 With emdous veils from my beholding ; 
 
 Unlock those lips, their pearly row 
 In a sweet smile of love unfolding. 
 
 And let those eyes, whose motion wheels 
 
 The restless Fate of every lover, 
 Survey the pains my sick heart feels, 
 
 And wounds, themselves have made discover. 
 
 A Fly that flew into his Celia's eye, 
 
 WHILE this Fly lived, she used to play 
 In the bright sunshine all the day ; 
 Till, coming near my Celiacs sight, 
 She found a new and unknown light, 
 So full of glory that it made 
 The noon-day Sun a gloomy shade. 
 
 At last this Amorous Fly became 
 My rival, and did court my flame. 
 She did from hand to bosom skip. 
 And from her l)reath, her cheek, and lip, 
 Suck'd all the incense and the spice ; 
 So grew a Bird of Paradise.
 
 THOMAS GAREW. 35 
 
 At last into her eye she flew, 
 There, scorch'd in heat and drown'd in dew, 
 Like Phaeton from the sun'a sphere 
 She fell ; and with her droj^ji'd a tear : 
 Of whicli a pearl was straight composed. 
 Wherein her ashes lie enclosed. 
 
 Thus she received fi-om Celia's eye 
 
 Funeral, flame, tomb, obsequy. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 On Gslia singing to her Lute, in Arundel 
 Garden. 
 
 HARK, how my Celia, with the choice 
 Music of her hand and voice, 
 Stills the loud wind, and makes the wild 
 Enraged boar and panther mild. 
 Mark how those statues like men move, 
 While men with wonder statues prove. 
 The stiff rock bends to worship her ; 
 Tlie Idol turns idolater. 
 
 Now, see how all the new inspired 
 Images witli love are fired ! 
 Hark how the tender marble groans, 
 And all the late transformed stones 
 Court the fair Nymph, with many a tear, 
 Which she — more stony than they were — 
 Beholds with unrelenting mind ; 
 When they, amazed to see combined 
 
 Such matchless beauty with disdain, 
 Are. all turn'd into stone again.
 
 36 THE POEMS OF 
 
 Celia Singing. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 YOU that tliiiik Love can convey 
 No other way 
 But through the eyes into the heart 
 
 His fatal dart, 
 Close up those casements, and but hear 
 This Syren sing ; 
 And on the wing 
 Of her sweet voice it shall appear 
 That Love can enter at the ear : 
 
 Then unveil yoiir eyes : behold 
 
 The curious mould 
 "Where that voice dwells : and, as we know 
 
 When the cocks crow, 
 We freely may gaze on the day ; 
 So may you, when the Music's done, 
 Awake, and see the rising Sun. 
 
 SONG. 
 To One that desired to know my Mistress. 
 
 SEEK not to know my Love, for she 
 Hath vow'd her constant faith to me ; 
 Her mild aspects are mine, and thou 
 Shalt only find a stormy brow : 
 For if her beauty stir desire 
 In me, her kisses quench the fire. 
 
 Or I can to Love's fountain go, 
 
 Or dwell upon her hills of snow ; 
 
 But when thou burn'st, she will not spare 
 
 One gentle breath to cool the air : 
 
 Thou shalt not climb those Alps, nor spy 
 Where the sweet springs of Venus lie.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 37 
 
 Search hidden Nature, and there find 
 A treasure to enrich thy mind ; 
 Discover arts not yet reveal'd, 
 But let my Mistress live conceal'd : 
 
 Though men by knowledge wiser grow, 
 
 Yet Her 'tis wisdom not to know. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 In the Person of a Lady to her Inconstant 
 Servant. 
 
 WHEN on the altar of my hand, 
 Bedew'd with many a kiss and tear, 
 Thy now-revolted heart did stand 
 An humble martyr, thou did'st swear 
 Thus (and the God of Love did hear) : 
 ' By those bright glances of thine eye, 
 Unless thou pity me, I die.' 
 
 When first those perjured lips of thine, 
 Be-paled with blasting sighs, did seal 
 
 Their violated faith on mine, 
 From the soft bosom that did heal 
 Thee, thou my melting heart did'st steal : 
 
 My soul, enflamed with thy false breath, 
 
 Poison'd with kisses, suck'd in deatli. 
 
 Yet I nor hand nor lip will move, 
 Revenge or mercy to procure 
 
 From the offended God of Love : 
 My curse is fatal, and my pure 
 Love shall beyond thy scorn endure. 
 
 If I implore the Gods, they'll find 
 
 Thee too ungrateful, me too kind.
 
 38 THE POEMS OF 
 
 Truce in Love Intreated. 
 
 ^T more, Blind God ! for see, my heart 
 *l Is made thy quiver, where remains 
 No void jDlace for another dart ; 
 
 And, alas ! that conquest gains 
 Small 2J raise, that only brings away 
 A tame and unresisting prey. 
 
 Behold ! a nobler foe, all arni'd, 
 
 Defies thy weak artillery ; 
 That hath thy bow and quiver charm'd 
 
 A rebel Beauty, conquering Thee : 
 If thou darest equal combat try. 
 Wound her, for 'tis for her I die. 
 
 SONG. 
 To My Eival. 
 
 HENCE, vaine Intruder, haste away ! 
 Wash not with thy unhallow'd brine 
 The footsteps of my Celiacs shrine ; 
 Nor on her purer altars lay 
 Thy empty words, accents that may 
 Some looser Dame to love incline : 
 She must ha^■e offerings more divine. 
 
 Such pearly drops, as youthful May 
 Scatters before the rising day ; 
 Such smooth soft language, as each line 
 
 Might stroke an angry God, or stay 
 Jove's thunder, make the hearers pine 
 With envy : do this, thou shalt be 
 Servant to her, Eival to me.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 39 
 
 Boldness in Love. 
 {the marigold.) 
 
 MARK liow the bashful morn, in vain, 
 Courts the amorous Marigold, 
 With sighing blasts and weeping rain ; 
 
 Yet she refuses to unfold. 
 But when the Planet of the Day 
 Approacheth, with his powerful ray, 
 Then she spreads, then she receives 
 His warmer beams into her virgin leaves. 
 
 So shalt thou thrive in love, fond Boy ! 
 
 If thy tears and sighs discover 
 Thy grief, thou never shalt enjoy 
 
 The just reward of a bold Lover. 
 But when with moving accents thou 
 Shalt constant faith and service vow. 
 
 Thy Celia shall receive those charms 
 With oi3en ears, and with unfolded arms. 
 
 A' 
 
 A Pastoral Dialogue : 
 
 BETWEEN CELIA AND CLEOX. 
 
 S Celia rested in the shade 
 
 With Clean by her side. 
 The Swain thus courted the young Maid, 
 And thus the Nymph rej)lied. 
 
 Cleon. — ' Sweet ! let thy Captive fetters wear, 
 Made of thine arms and hands ; 
 Till such as thraldom scorn, or fear. 
 Envy those happy bands.' 
 
 Celia. — ' Then thus my willing arms I wind 
 About thee, and am so 
 Thy prisoner : for my self I bind, 
 Until I let thee go.'
 
 40 THE POEMS OF 
 
 Cleon. — ' Happy that slave whom the fair foe 
 
 Ties in so soft a chain.' 
 Celia. — ' Far happier I, but that I know 
 
 Thou wilt break loose again.' 
 
 Cleon. — ' By thy immortal beauties, never ! ' 
 Celia. — ' Frail as thy love 's thine oath.' 
 
 Cleon. — ' Though beauty fade, my love lasts ever.' 
 Celia. — ' Time will destroy them both.' 
 
 Cleon. — ' I dote not on that snow-white skin.' 
 
 Celia.—' What then ? ' CI.—' Thy purer mind.' 
 Celia. — ' It loved too soon.' CI. — ' Thou had'st not been 
 So fair, if not so kind.' 
 
 Celia. — ' Oh strange vain fancy ! ' CI. — ' But yet true.' 
 Celia. — ' Prove it ! ' Cleon.—' Then make a braid 
 Of those loose flames that circle you, 
 My sun's, and yet your shade.' 
 
 Celia. — ' 'Tis done.' Cleon. — ' Now give it me.' 
 Celia.— ' Thus thou 
 
 Shalt thine own error find ; 
 If these were beauties, I am now 
 Less fair, because more kind.' 
 
 Cleon. — ' You shall confess you err : that hair, 
 Shall it not change the hue, 
 Or leave the golden mountain bare ? ' 
 Celia. — ' Ay ine ! it is too true.' 
 
 Cleon. — ' But this small wreath shall ever stay 
 In its first native prime ; 
 And smiling, when the rest decay. 
 The trium2")li sing of Time.' 
 
 Celia. — ' Then let me cut from thy fair grove 
 One branch, and let that be 
 An emblem of eternal Love : 
 For such is mine to thee.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 41 
 
 Both. — ' Tims are we both redeem'd from Time.' 
 Cleon. — ' I by thy grace.' Celia. — 'And I 
 Shall live in thy Immortal rhyme, 
 Until the Muses die.' 
 
 Cleo7i. — ' By heaven ! ' Celia. — ' Swear not I if I must 
 weep, 
 Jove shall not smile at me. 
 This kiss, my heart, and thy faith keep ! ' 
 Cleon. — ' This breathes my soul to thee.' 
 
 Then forth the thicket Tkyrsis rush'd, 
 
 Where he saw all their play ; 
 The Swain stood still, and smiled, and blush'd : 
 
 The Nymph tied fast away. 
 
 Grief Engrossed. 
 
 WHEREFORE do thy sad numbers flow. 
 So full of woe ? 
 Why dost thou melt in such soft strains, 
 ^\1iilst she disdains ? 
 If she must still deny, 
 Weep not, but die ! 
 And in thy Funeral iii'e 
 Shall all her fame expire : 
 Thus both shall perish, and as thou, upon thy Hearse 
 Shall want her tears, so she shall want thy Verse. 
 
 Repine not then at thy blest state : 
 
 Thou art above thy fate. 
 
 But my fair Celia will not give 
 
 Love enough to make nie live ; 
 
 Nor yet dart from her eye 
 
 Scorn enough to make me die. 
 Then let me weep alone, till her kind breath 
 Or blow my tears away, or speak my death.
 
 42 THE POEMS OF 
 
 A Pastoral Dialogue. 
 
 SHEPHERD, M'MPH, AND CHORUS. 
 
 Shepherd. 
 
 ' npHTS mossy bank they press'd.' 
 
 J- Nijrii2:)h. — ' That aged Oak 
 Did canoj^y the happy pair 
 All night from the dank air.' 
 
 Chorus. — ' Here let us sit, and sing the words they spoke, 
 Till, the day breaking, their embraces broke.' 
 
 Shepherd. — ' See, Love, the blushes of the Morn appear. 
 And now she hangs her pearly store 
 (Robb'd from the Eastern shore), 
 I' th' cowslip's bell, and roses rare : 
 Sweet, I must stay no longer here.' 
 
 JV^?/my;.—' Those streaks of doubtful light usher not Day, 
 But show my sun must set : no Morn 
 Shall shine till thou return : 
 The yellow Planets, and the grey 
 Dawn, shall attend thee on thy way.' 
 
 Shepherd. — 'If thine eyes gild my path, they may 
 
 forbear 
 Their useless shine.' Nymph.— ^ My tears 
 
 will quite 
 Extinguish their faint light.' 
 
 Shepherd. — 'Those drops will make their beams more 
 clear, 
 Love's flames will shine in every tear.' 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 ' They kiss'd ; and wept, and from their lips and eyes, 
 
 In a mixed dew of briny sweet, 
 
 Their joys and sorrows meet. 
 But she cries out.' Nymph. — ' Shepherd, arise I 
 The sun betrays us else to spies.'
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 43 
 
 Shepherd. — 'The winged hours tly fast, — whilst we 
 embrace ; 
 But when we want their help to meet, 
 They move \\'ith leaden feet.' 
 Nymph. — ' Then let us pinion Time, and chase 
 The day for ever from this place.' 
 
 Shepherd.—' Hark ! ' Nymph.—' Ay me, stay ! ' Shep- 
 herd. — ' For ever ?' Nymph. — ' No, arise ! 
 We must be gone.' Shepherd. — ' My nest of 
 spice ! ' 
 Nymph. — ' My soul ! ' Shepherd. — ' My Paradise ! ' 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Neither could say farewell, but through their eyes : 
 Grief interrupted speech, each tear supplies. 
 
 Red and White Roses. 
 
 READ in these Roses the sad story 
 Of my hard fate and your o\\ai glory ; 
 
 In the Wliite you may discover 
 
 The paleness of a fainting lover ; 
 
 In the Red, the flames still feeding 
 
 On my heart, with fresh wounds bleeding. 
 The White will tell you how I languish, 
 
 And the Red express my anguish ; 
 
 The ^Yliite my innocence displaying, 
 
 The Red my martyrdom betraying. 
 
 The frowns, that on your brow resided, 
 
 Have these Roses thus divided. 
 
 Oh ! let your smiles but clear the weather, 
 And then they both shall grow together.
 
 44 THE POEMS OF 
 
 To MY Cousin, C. R., marrying my Lady A{ltham\ 
 
 HAPPY Youtli ! that slialt possess 
 Such a spring-tide of delight, 
 
 As the sated appetite 
 Shall, enjoying such excess, 
 Wish the flood of Pleasure less ; 
 
 When the Hymeneal rite 
 
 Is i^erforni'd, invoke the night, 
 That it may in shadows dress 
 Thy too real happiness : 
 
 Else (as Seinele) the bright 
 
 Deitie, in her full might. 
 May thy feeble soul oppress. 
 
 Strong perfumes and glaring light 
 
 Oft destroy both smell and sight. 
 
 A Lover consults with Eeason : 
 Upon an Accident necessitating his Departure. 
 Lover. 
 /"EEP not, nor backward turn yonr beams, 
 Fond eyes ! Sad sighs, lock in your breath, 
 Lest on this wind, or in those streams. 
 My grieved Soul fly or sail to death. 
 Fortune destroys me if I stay, 
 Love kills me if I go away : 
 
 Since Love and Fortune both are blind. 
 Come, Eeason, and resolve my doubtful mind. 
 
 Reason. 
 Fly ! and blind Fortune be thy guide, 
 
 And 'gainst the blinder God rebel. 
 Thy love-sick heart shall not reside 
 
 Where scorn and self-will'd error dwell ; 
 Where entrance unto Truth is barr'd. 
 Where Love and Faith find no reward : 
 
 For my just hand may sometimes move 
 •Fij/,' etc. J The wheel of Fortune, not the sphere of Love. 
 
 w
 
 THOMAS GAREW. 45 
 
 Parting, Celia Weeps. 
 
 WEEP not, my Dear, for I must go 
 Laden enough with mine own woe ; 
 Add not thy heaviness to mine. 
 Since fate our jjleasures must disjoin : 
 Why should our sorrows meet ? If I 
 Must go, and lose tliy company, 
 I wish not theirs : It shall relieve 
 My grief, to think thou dost not grieve. 
 
 Yet grieve, and weep, that I may bear 
 Every sigh and every tear 
 Away with me ; so shall thy breast 
 And eyes, discharged, enjoy their rest : 
 And it will glad my heart to see 
 Thou art thus loath to part with me. 
 
 A Rapture. 
 
 I WILL enjoy thee now, my Celia, come, 
 And fly with me to Love's Elysmm. 
 The Giant, Honour, that keeps cowards out. 
 Is Ijut a masquer, and the servile rout 
 Of baser subjects only l:)end in vain 
 To the vast Idol ; whilst the nobler train 
 Of valiant Lovers daily sail between 
 The huge Colossus' legs, and pass unseen 
 Unto the blissful shore. Be bold and wise, 
 And we shall enter : the grim Swiss denies [ = Warder. 
 
 Only to fools a passage, that not know 
 
 He is but form, and only frights in show. 
 
 Let duller eyes that look from far, draw near, 
 And they shall scorn what they were wont to fear. 
 We shall see how the stalking Pageant goes 
 With Ixjrrow'd legs, a heavy load to those 
 That made and bear him : not, as we once thought, 
 The seed of Gods, but a weak model, wrought
 
 46 THE POEMS OF 
 
 By greedy men, tliat seek t' enclose the common, 
 And within private arms imj^ale free Woman. 
 
 Come, then, and mounted on the wings of Love 
 We'll cut the fleeting air, and soar above 
 The Monster's head, and in the noblest seat 
 Of those blest shades quench and renew our heat. 
 There shall the Queens of Love and Innocence, 
 Beauty and Nature, banish all oftence 
 From our close Ivy-twines : there I'll behold 
 Thy bared snow and thy unbraided gold ; 
 There my enfranchised hand on every side 
 Shall o'er thy naked polish'd ivory slide. 
 No curtain there, though of transparent lawn, 
 Shall be before thy virgin-treasure drawn ; 
 But the rich Mine, to the enquiring eye 
 Exposed, shall ready still for mintage lie : 
 And we will coin young Cupids. There a bed 
 Of roses and fresh myrtles shall be spread, 
 Under the cooler shade of Cypress groves ; 
 Our pillows, of the down of Venu^ doves ; 
 Whereon oiir j^anting limbs we'll gently lay, 
 In the faint respites of our amorous play : 
 That so our slumbers may in dreams have leisure 
 To tell the nimble fancy our past pleasure, 
 
 And so our souls — that cannot be embraced — 
 Shall the embraces of our bodies taste. 
 
 Meanwhile the babbling stream shall court the shore, 
 Th' enamour'd chirping Wood-choir shall adore 
 In varied tunes the Deity of Love ; 
 The gentle Ijlasts of Western wind shall move 
 The trembling leaves, and thro' the close boiTghs breathe 
 Still music, whilst we rest our selves beneath 
 Their dancing shade : till a soft murmur, sent 
 From souls entiauced in amorous languishment, 
 
 Kouse us, and shoot into our veins fresh fire, 
 
 Till we in their sweet ecstasy expire.
 
 THOMAS a A MEW. 47 
 
 Then, as tlie empty Bee, that lately bore 
 Into the common treasure all her store, 
 Flies 'bout the painted field with nimble wing, 
 Deflow'ring the fresh virgins of the Spring — 
 So will I rifle all the sweets that dwell 
 In thy delicious Paradise, and swell 
 My bag with honey, drawn forth by the power 
 Of fervent kisses from each spicy flower. 
 I'll seize the Rose-buds in their perfumed bed, 
 The violet knots, like curious mazes spread 
 O'er all the garden ; taste the ripened cherries, 
 The warm firm apple, tipp'd with coi'al berries. 
 Then will I visit with a wand'ring kiss 
 The Vale of lilies, and the Bower of bliss ; 
 And where the beauteous region doth divide 
 Into two milky ways, my lip shall slide 
 Down those smooth alleys, wearing as they go 
 A track for lovers on the printed snow ; 
 Thence climlnng o'er the swelling Ajjennine, 
 Retire into the grove of Eglantine : 
 Where I will all those ravished sweets distil 
 Through Love's alembic, and with chymic skill 
 
 From the mixed mass one sovereign balm derive, 
 Then bring the great Elixir to thy hive. 
 
 Now in more sulitle wreaths I will entwine 
 My sinewy limbs, my arms and legs, with thine. 
 Thou like a sea of milk shalt lie display'd, 
 "VVliilst I the smooth calm ocean will invade. 
 With such a tempest, as when Jove of old 
 Fell down on Dana in a stream of gold ; 
 Yet my tall pinnace shall in th' Cyprian strait 
 Ride safe at anchor, and unload her freight : 
 My rudder with thy bold hand, like a tried 
 And skilful pilot, thou shalt steer, and guide 
 My Bark into Love's channel, where it shall 
 Dance, as the bounding waves do rise or fall.
 
 48 THE POEMS OF 
 
 Then shall thy cii'cling arms embrace and clip 
 My naked body, and thy balmy lip 
 Bathe me in juice of kisses, whose perfume 
 Like a religious incense shall consume, 
 And send up holy vaj^ours to those powers 
 That bless our loves and crown our sportful hours : 
 That with such Halcyon calmness fix our souls 
 In steadfast peace, that no annoy controuls. 
 There no rude sounds fright us with sudden starts ; 
 No jealous ears, when we unrip our hearts, 
 Suck our discourse in ; no observing spies 
 This blush, that glance traduce ; no envious eyes 
 Watch our close meetings : nor are we betray'd 
 To rivals, by the bribed Chambermaid. 
 No wedlock bonds unwreath our twisted lo\'e ; 
 We seek no midnight Arbour nor dark grove. 
 To hide our kisses : there the hated name 
 Of husband, wife, chaste, modest, lust or shame, 
 Are vain and empty words, whose very sound 
 Was never heard in the Elizian ground. 
 All tilings are lawful there, that may delight 
 Nature or unrestrained appetite : 
 
 Like and enjoy : to will and act is one : 
 We only sin when Love's rites are not done. 
 
 The Roman Lucrece there reads the divine 
 Lectures of Love's great master, Aretine, 
 And knows as well as Lais how to move 
 Her pliant body in the act of love. 
 
 Tarquin.] To quencli the burning Ravisher, she hurls 
 Her limbs into a thousand winding curls, 
 And studies artful j^ostures, siich as be 
 Carved on the bark of every neighbouring tree, 
 By learned hands, that so adorned the rind 
 Of those fair plants, which, as they lay entwined, 
 
 Penelope.] Have fann'd their gloA\'ing fires. The Grecian dame. 
 That in her endless Web toil'd for a name,
 
 THOMAS GAREW. 49 
 
 As fruitless as her work, dotli now display 
 
 Her self before the youth of Ithaca, 
 
 And th' amorous sport of gamesome nights prefer 
 
 Before dull dreams of the lost Traveller. [odyssev.s. 
 
 Dcqyhne hath broke her bark, and that smft foot 
 
 Which th' angry Gods had fast'ned with a root 
 
 To the fix'd earth, doth now unfetter'd run 
 
 To meet th' embraces of the youthful Sun. [PJiabus. 
 
 She hangs upon him, like his Delphic Lyre ; 
 
 Her kisses blow the old, and breathe new, fire ; 
 
 Full of her God, she sings inspired lays, 
 
 Sweet Odes of love, such as deserve the Bays, 
 
 Which she herself was. Next her, Laura lies 
 
 In Petrarch's learned arms, drying those eyes 
 
 That did in such sweet smooth-paced numbers flow, 
 
 As made the world enamour'd of his woe. 
 
 These, and ten thousand Beauties more, that died 
 
 Slave to the Tyrant, now enlarged deride ['•''• Honour. 
 
 His cancell'd laws, and for their time mis-spent 
 
 Pay into Love's Exchequer douljle rent. 
 
 Come then, my Celia, we'll no more forbear 
 To taste our joys, struck with a Panic fear. 
 But will depose fi'om his imperious sway 
 This proud Usurper, and walk free as thej^. 
 With necks unyoked ; nor is it just that he 
 Should fetter your soft sex with chastity, 
 Whom Nature made unapt for abstinence ; 
 When yet this false Impostor can dispense 
 With human Justice and with sacred Eight, 
 And (maugre both their laws) command me fight 
 With Eivals, or when emulous Lovers dare 
 Equal with thine their Mistress' eyes or hair. 
 
 If thou complain'st of wrong, and call my sword 
 To carve out thy revenge, upon that word 
 He bids me fight and kill ; or else he brands 
 With marks of infamy my coward hands. 
 
 D
 
 50 THE POEMS OF 
 
 And yet Religion bids from blood-slied fly, 
 And damns me for tliat act. Then tell me why 
 This goblin ' Honour,' wliom the world enshrined, 
 Should make men Atheists, and not women Kind ? 
 
 N 
 
 The Second Rapture. 
 
 ■ 0, worldling, no ; 'tis not thy gold, 
 Which thou dost use but to behold, 
 Nor fortune, honour, nor long life, 
 Children, or friends, or a good wife, 
 That makes thee happy : these things be 
 But shadows of felicity. 
 Give me a wench above thirteen. 
 Already voted to the Queen 
 Of Love, and lovers ; whose soft hair 
 Fann'd with the breath of gentle air, 
 O'er-spreads her shoulders like a tent. 
 And is her veil and ornament ; 
 Whose tender touch will make the blood 
 Wild in the aged and the good ; 
 Whose kisses, fast'ned to the mouth 
 = Sloth.] Of three-score years and longer slouth, 
 
 Renew the age ; and whose bright eye 
 Obscures those ' lesser lights ' of sky ; 
 Whose snowy breasts (if we may call 
 That snow, that never melts at all,) 
 Makes Jov& invent a new disguise, 
 In spite of Juno's jealousies ; 
 Whose every part doth re-invite 
 The old decayed appetite : 
 And in whose sweet embraces I 
 May melt my self to love, and die. 
 This is true bliss, and I confess 
 There is no other happiness.
 
 THOMAS GAREW. 51 
 
 Epitaph on the Lady Mary Villiers. 
 
 THE Lady Mary Villiers lies 
 Under tliis stone ; with weejjing eyes 
 
 Tlie parents that first gave her Ijirth, 
 
 And their sad friends, laid her in earth. 
 
 If any of them, Reader, were 
 
 Known unto thee, shed a tear ; 
 
 Or if thyself possess a gem 
 
 As dear to thee, as this to them ; 
 
 Though a stranger to this place. 
 
 Bewail in theirs thine own hard case : 
 For thou, perhaps, at thy return 
 Mayest find thy Darling in an urn. 
 
 Another. 
 
 THE purest Soul, that e'er was sent 
 Into a clayey tenement, 
 Inform'd this dust ; but the weak mould 
 Could the great guest no longer hold : 
 The substance was too pure, the flame 
 Too glorious that thither came. 
 Ten thousand Cupids brought along 
 A Grace on each wing, that did throng 
 For place there, till they all oppress'd 
 The seat in which they sought to rest : 
 So the fair Model broke, for want 
 Of room to lodge th' Inhabitant. 
 
 Another. 
 
 'T^HIS little vault, this narrow room, 
 -I- Of Love and Beauty is the tomb ; 
 The dawning beam, that 'gan to clear 
 Our clouded sky, lies dark'ned here,
 
 52 THE POEMS OF 
 
 For ever set to us : by cleatli 
 Sent to enflame tlie world beneatli. 
 'Twas but a bud, yet did contain 
 More sweetness than shall spring again ; 
 A budding Star, that might have grown 
 Into a sun when it had blown. 
 This hopeful beauty did create 
 New life in Love's declining state ; 
 But now his empire ends, and we 
 From fire and wounding darts are free ; 
 His buind, his bow, let no man fear 
 The flames, the arrows, all lie here. 
 
 Epitaph on Lady S[alter\ : 
 Wife of Sir W. SIaltee\. 
 
 THE harmony of colours, features, grace. 
 Resulting airs (the magic of a face) 
 Of musical sweet tunes, all which combined 
 To croAvn one Sovereign Beauty, lies confined 
 To this dark vault. She was a cabinet 
 Wliere all the choicest stones of price were set : 
 Whose native colours and pure lustre lent 
 Her eye, cheek, lip, a dazzling ornament ; 
 Whose rare and outward beauties did express 
 Her inward virtues, and mind's fairer dress. 
 The constant diamond, the wise chrysolite, 
 The devout sapphire, emerald, apt to write 
 Records of memory, cheerful agate, gi-ave 
 And serious onyx, topaz, that doth save 
 The brain's calm temper, witty amethyst : 
 This precious quarry, or what else the list 
 On Aaron's Ephod planted had, she wore : 
 One only Pearl was wanting to her store, 
 
 Wliich in her Saviour's book she found cxpress'd 
 To purchase that, she sold Death all the rest.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 53 
 
 The Inscription on tue Tomb op 
 Lady Mauy Wentworth. 
 
 MARTA WENTWORTH, ILLUSTRISSIMI THOM/E COMITIS CLEVELAND 
 
 FILIA, rR.E MOKTD/K PRIMA ANISIAM VIRGINEAjM KXHALUIT : 
 
 JANU : ANNO DOMINI 1632. ^TATIS SU.K 18. 
 
 AND here tlie precious dust is laid, 
 Whose purely temjDer'd clay Avas made 
 So fine, that it the guest betray'd. 
 
 Else, the soul grew so fast within 
 It broke the outward shell of sin, 
 And so was hatch'd a Cheruljin. 
 
 In height it soar'd to God alcove ; 
 In depth, it did to knowledge move, 
 And spread in Ijreadth to general love. 
 
 Before, a pious duty shined 
 To parents ; courtesy behind ; 
 On either side, an equal mind. 
 
 Good to the Poor, to kindred dear. 
 To servants kind, to friendship clear : 
 To nothing but her self severe. 
 
 So, though a virgin, yet a Bride 
 To every grace, she justified 
 A chaste Polygamy, and died. 
 
 Learn from hence. Reader, what small trust 
 We owe the world : where virtue must, 
 Frail as our llesh, crumble to dust.
 
 54 
 
 THE POEMS OF 
 
 Inscription on the Tomb of the 
 Duke of Buckingham. 
 
 BEATISSIMIS MANIBtIS CHARISSIMI VIRI ILLUSTKISSIMA 
 CONJUNX MOERENS SIO PARENTAVIT. 
 
 WHEN in the brazen leaves of Fame 
 The life, the death of BucJdngham 
 Shall 1)6 recorded, — if Truth's hand 
 Incize the story of our land — 
 Posterity shall see a fair 
 Structure, by the studious care 
 Of two kings raised, that did no less 
 Their wisdom than their power express. 
 By blinded zeal (whose doubtful light 
 Made Murder's scarlet robe seem white ; 
 Whose vain deluding phantoms charm'd 
 i.e. FeitonA ^ clouded suUeii Soul, and arm'd 
 
 A desperate hand, thirsty of blood,) 
 Torn from the fair earth where it stood : 
 So the majestic fabric fell. 
 
 His actions let our Annals tell ; 
 We write no chronicle ; this pile 
 Wears only Sorrow's face and style : 
 Which even the envy that did wait 
 Upon his flourishing estate, 
 Turn'd to soft pity of his death, 
 Now pays his Hearse : but that cheap breath 
 Shall not l)low here, nor th' impure Ijrine 
 Puddle those streams that bathe this shrine. 
 
 These are the pious Obsequies 
 Dropp'd from his chaste Wife's pregnant eyes 
 In frequent showers, and were alone 
 By her congealing sighs made stone ; 
 =Sculptor.] On which the Carver did bestow 
 
 These forms and characters of woe : 
 So he the fashion only lent, 
 Whilst she wept all the Monument.
 
 THOMAS GAREW. 55 
 
 The other Inscription on the same Tomb. 
 
 SJSTE HOSPES, SIVE INDIGENA, SIVE ADVENA, VICISSITUDINI3 
 BERUM MEMOR, PAUCA PELLEGE. 
 
 READER, when these dumb stones have told 
 In borrow'd speech what Guest they hold, 
 Thou shalt confess the vain pursuit 
 Of human glory yields no fruit 
 But an untimely grave. If Fate 
 Could constant happiness create. 
 Her ministers, Fortune and Worth, 
 Had here that miracle brought forth : 
 They fixed this Child of Honour where 
 No room was left for hope or fear, 
 Of more or less ; so high, so great 
 His growth was, yet so safe his seat. 
 Safe in the circle of his friends. 
 Safe in his loyal heart, and ends ; 
 Safe in his native valiant spirit. 
 By favour safe, and safe by merit ; 
 Safe by the stamp of Nature, which 
 Did strength with shape and grace enrich ; 
 Safe in the cheerful courtesies 
 Of flioAviug gestures, speech, and eyes ; 
 Safe in his bounties, which were more 
 Proportion'd to his mind, than store : 
 Yet, though for Virtue he becomes 
 Involved himself in borrow'd sums, 
 
 Safe in his care, he leaves betray'd 
 
 No friend engaged, no debt unpaid. 
 
 But though the stars conspire to shower 
 Upon one head th' united power 
 Of all their graces, if their dire 
 Aspects must other breasts inspire 
 
 With vicious thoughts, a ]\Iurderer's knife [John Felton's. 
 
 May cut — as here— their Darling's life. 
 
 Who can be happy then, if Nature must 
 
 To make one happy man, make all men just ?
 
 56 THE POEMS OF 
 
 afour Songs, bs \va\j of Cborus to a BMag. 
 
 At an Entertainment of the King and Queen, 
 BY MY Lord Chamberlain [at AVhitehall, 1633]. 
 
 The First Song, of Jealousy : in Dialogue. 
 
 Question. 
 EOM whence was first this Fury liurl'd. 
 
 F 
 
 This Jealous/, into the World ? 
 Came she from Hell ?' Ansiver. ' No, there doth reign 
 Eternal hatred, with Disdain ; 
 But she the daughter is of Love, 
 Sister of Beauty.' Questioner. ' Then above 
 She must derive, from the third sphere, 
 Her heavenly offspring ? ' Answer. ' Neither there. 
 
 From those immortal flames, could she 
 
 Draw her cold frozen pedigree.' 
 
 Question. ' If nor from Heaven nor Hell, where then 
 
 Had she her birth ? ' Answer. ' In tli' hearts of men. 
 
 Beauty and Fear did her create, 
 
 Younger than Love, elder than Hate, 
 
 Sister to both ; by Beauty's side 
 
 To Love, by Fear to Hate, allied. 
 
 Despair her issue is, whose race 
 
 Of fruitful mischiefs drowns the space 
 Of the wide earth in a swol'n flood 
 Of wrath, revenge, spite, rage, and blood.' 
 
 Question. ' Ah, how can such a spurious line 
 Proceed from parents so divine ? ' 
 Ansiocr. ' As streams which from their crystal spring 
 Do sweet and clear their waters bring, 
 Yet, mingling with the brackish main,. 
 Nor taste nor colour they retain.'
 
 THOMAS GAREW. 57 
 
 Question. ' Yet Rivers 'twixt theii' own l^anks flow 
 Still fresli ; can Jealousy do so ? ' 
 Answer. ' Yes, whilst she keeps the steadfast ground 
 Of Hope and Fear, her equal bound. 
 
 ' Hope sprung from favour, worth, or chance. 
 Towards the fair oliject doth advance ; 
 Whilst Fear, as watchful Sentinel, 
 Doth the invading foe rejoel : 
 And Jealousy, thus mixed, doth prove 
 The season[ing] and the salt of Love. 
 But when Fear takes a larger scope, 
 (Stifling the child of Reason, Hope,) 
 Then, sitting on th' usurj^ed throne. 
 She like a Tyrant rules alone : 
 
 As the wild Ocean unconfined 
 
 And raging as the Northern wind.' 
 
 Song II. — Op Feminine Honour. 
 
 IN what esteem did the gods hold 
 Fair Innocence and the chaste bed. 
 When scandal'd Virtue might be bold 
 
 Bare-foot upon sharp coulters, sjaread 
 O'er burning coals, to march ; yet feel 
 Nor scorching fire nor piercing steel ! 
 
 Why, when the hard-edged Iron did turn 
 
 Soft as a bed of roses blown. 
 When cruel flames forgot to burn 
 
 Their chaste inira limbs, should man alone 
 'Gainst female Innocence conspire 
 Harder than steel, fiercer than fire ? 
 
 Oh, hapless sex ! Unequal sway 
 
 Of partial honour ! Wlio may know 
 Rebels, from subjects that obey ; 
 
 When malice can on Vestals throw 
 Disgrace, and Fame fix high repute 
 On the close shameless Prostitute ?
 
 58 THE POEMS OF 
 
 cf. p. 45.] Vain Honour ! thou art but disguise, 
 
 A cheating voice, a juggling art ; 
 No judge of Virtue, whose pure eyes 
 Court her own image in the heart. 
 More j)leased with her true figure there 
 Than her false echo in the ear. 
 
 Song III. — Separation of Lovers. 
 
 STOP the chafed Boar, or play 
 With the Lion's paw, yet fear 
 From the Lover's side to tear 
 Th' idol of his soul away. 
 
 Though Love enter by the sight 
 To the heart, it doth not fly 
 From the mind, when from the eye 
 
 The fair objects take their flight. 
 
 But since want j^rovokes desire, 
 Wlien we lose what we before 
 Have enjoy 'd, as we want more, 
 
 So is Love more set on fire. 
 
 Love doth with an hungry eye 
 Gloat on Beauty ; and you may 
 Safer snatch the Tiger's i^rey. 
 
 Than his vital food deny. 
 
 Yet though absence for a space 
 Sharpen the keen appetite. 
 Long continuance doth quite 
 
 All Love's characters efface : 
 
 For the sense, not fed, denies 
 Nourishment unto the mind : 
 '\^1iich, with expectation pined. 
 
 Love of famine quickly dies.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 59 
 
 Song IV. — Incommunicability of Love. 
 Question. 
 
 ' 11) Y wliat power was Love confined 
 -L' To one object ? Who can bind, 
 Or fix a limit to a free-born mind ] ' 
 
 Answer. — ' Nature : for as bodies may 
 Move at once but in one way, 
 So nor can minds to more than one love stray.' 
 
 Questioner. — ' Yet I feel a double smart, 
 Love's twinn'd flame, his forked dart.' 
 Answer. — 'Then hath wild lust, not love, possess'd thy 
 heart.' 
 
 Question. — ' Whence springs Love ? ' Ans. — ' From 
 
 Beauty.' Question. — ' Why 
 Should th' effect not multiply 
 As fast i' th' heart, as doth the cause i' th' eye ? ' 
 
 Answer. — 'When two Beauties equal are 
 Sense preferring neither fair, 
 Desire stands still, distracted 'twixt the pair. 
 
 ' So in equal distance lay 
 Two fair lambs in the wolf's way. 
 The hungry beast will starve ere choose his prey. 
 
 ' But where one is chief, the rest 
 Cease : and that's alone possess'd. 
 Without a rival, monarch of the breast.'
 
 GO THE POEMS OF 
 
 ©tber Songs in tbe ipla^. 
 
 I. — A Lover, in the Disguise op an Amazon, 
 IS DEARLY Beloved of his Mistress. 
 
 CEASE, tlioii afflicted Soul, to mourn, 
 Wliose love aud faitli are paid with scorn ; 
 For I am starved, tliat feel the blisses 
 Of dear embraces, smiles, aud kisses 
 From my sonl's Idol, yet complain 
 Of equal love more than disdain. 
 
 Cease, Beauty's exile, to lament 
 
 The frozen shades of banishment ; 
 
 For I in that fair bosom d-svell 
 
 That is my Paradise and Hell : 
 
 Banish'd at home, at once, from ease, 
 In the safe port, and toss'd on seas. 
 
 Cease in cold jealous fears to pine, 
 
 Sad wretch, whom Eivals undermine ; 
 
 For though I hold lock'd in mine arms 
 
 My life's sole joy, a traitor's charms 
 Prevail : whilst I may only blame 
 My self, that mine own Rival am. 
 
 anotber Song [The princess's]. 
 II. — xV Lady, rescued from death by a Knight, 
 
 WHO IN the instant LEAVES IIEE, 
 COMPLAINS thus : 
 
 OH, whither is my fair Sun fled 
 Bearing his light, not heat, away ? 
 If thou repose' in the moist bed 
 
 Of the Sea Queen, bring back the day 
 To our dark clime, and thou shalt lie 
 Bathed in the sea, Hows from mine eye.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 61 
 
 Ujion what wliirlwiud dost tliou ride 
 Hence, yet remain'st tix'd in my heart ? 
 
 From me, and to me ; fled and tied ? 
 Dark riddles of the amorous art ! 
 
 Love lent thee wings to flj^, so he 
 
 Unfeather'd now must rest with me. 
 
 Help, help, brave youth ! I Ijurn, I bleed ! 
 
 The cruel God with bow and brand 
 Pursues that life thy valour freed. 
 
 Disarm him with thy conquering hand ; 
 And that thou may'st the wilil Boy tame, 
 Give me his dart, keep thou his flame. 
 
 ^0 JScn 5oii!?on. 
 
 Upon occasion of his Ode of Defiance annexed 
 TO his Play of 'The New Inn,' 1631. 
 
 "T^IS true, dear BEN, thy just chastising hand 
 
 -L Hath fix'd upon the 'sotted Age a brand. 
 To their swol'n pride and empty scribbling due ; 
 It can nor judge, nor write : and yet 'tis true 
 Thy Comic ]\Iuse, from the exalted line 
 Touch'd by thy ^Alchemist,' doth since decline [1610. 
 
 From that her zenith, and foretells a red 
 And blushing evening, when she goes to bed ; 
 Yet such as shall outshine the glimmering light 
 With which all stars shall gild the following night. 
 Nor think it much, since all thy Eaglets may 
 Endure the Sunny trial, if we say 
 ' This hath the stronger wing,' oi', ' that doth shine 
 Triclv'd up in fairer plumes ; ' since all are thine.
 
 62 THE POEMS OF 
 
 Who hath his flock of cackling geese compar'd 
 With thy tuned choir of swans ? or who hath dared 
 To call thy births deforni'd ? but if thou bind 
 By City-Custom or by Gavel-hind 
 In equal shares thy love on all thy race, 
 We may distinguish of their sex and place ; 
 
 Though one hand shape them, and though one 
 
 brain strike 
 Souls into all, they are not all alike. 
 
 Why should the Tollies, then, of this dull Age 
 Draw from thy pen such an immodest rage, 
 As seems to blast thy else-immortal Bays, 
 "VMien thine own tongue proclaims thy itch of praise ? 
 Such thirst will argue drought. No, let be hurl'd 
 Upon thy works by the detracting world 
 What malice can suggest : let the Eout say, 
 ' The running sands that — ere thou make a play — 
 G. sands.] Count the slow minutes, might a Goodwin frame, 
 
 To swallow when th' hast done thy shipwreck'd name.' 
 Let them the dear expense of oil upbraid, 
 Suck'd by thy watchful lamp, ' that hath betray'd 
 To theft the blood of martyr'd authors, spilt 
 Into thy ink, whilst thou growest pale with guilt.' 
 Eepine not at thy thrifty taper's av aste. 
 That sleeks thy terser poems ; nor is haste 
 Praise, but excuse ; and if thou overcome 
 A knotty writer, bring thy booty home, 
 Nor think it theft, if the rich spoils so torn 
 Fiom conquer'd authors be as Trophies W' orn. 
 Let others glut on the extorted praise 
 Of vulgar breath ; trust thou to after days : 
 Thy labour'd 'Works' shall live, when Time devours 
 Th' abortive offspring of their hasty hours. 
 Thou art not of their rank, the quarrel lies 
 Within thine own verge : then let this suffice— 
 The wiser world doth greater Thee confess 
 Than all men else, than Thy self only less.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 63 
 
 An Hymeneal Dialogue. 
 bride and groom. 
 
 Groom. 
 
 * *" I ""ELL me, my Love, since Hymen tied 
 J- The lioly knot, hast thou not felt 
 A new infused spirit slide 
 Into thy breast, whilst mine did melt ? ' 
 
 Bride. — ' First tell me, Sweet, whose words were those ? 
 For though your voice the air did break, 
 Yet did my soul the sense compose. 
 
 And through your lips my lieart did speak.' 
 
 Groom. — ' Then I perceive, when from the flame 
 Of Love my scorch'd soul did retire. 
 Your frozen heart in her place came. 
 And sweetly melted in that fire.' 
 
 Bride. — ' 'Tis true, for when that mutual change 
 Of souls was made, with equal gain, 
 I straight might feel diffused a strange 
 But gentle heat through every vein. 
 
 Chorus. — ' blest disunion ! that doth so 
 
 Our bodies from our souls divide ; 
 As two do one, and one four grow : 
 Each by contraction multiplied.' 
 
 Bride. — ' Thy bosom then I'll make my nest. 
 
 Since there my willing soul doth perch.' 
 
 Groom. — ' And for my lieart, in thy chaste breast, 
 I'll make an everlasting search.' 
 
 Chorus. — ' blest disunion, that doth so 
 
 Our bodies from our souls divide ; 
 As two do one, and one four grow : 
 Each by contraction multiplied.'
 
 64 THE POEMS OF 
 
 The Comparison. 
 (on the perfection of his mistress.) 
 
 DEAREST, tliy tresses are not threads of gold, 
 Nor thine eyes diamonds ; nor do I hold 
 Thy lips for rubies ; thy fair cheeks to be 
 Fresh roses, nor tliy teeth of ivory : 
 The skin that doth thy dainty body sheathe 
 Not alabaster is, mr dost thou Isreathe 
 Arabian odours : those the earth brings forth : 
 Compare with which would but impair thy worth. 
 Such may be others' Mistresses, but mine 
 Holds nothing earthly : She is all divine. 
 
 Thy tresses are those rays that do arise 
 
 Not from one sun, but two ; such are thy eyes : 
 
 Thy lips congealed nectar are, and such 
 
 As (but a deity) there's none dare touch. 
 
 The perfect crimson that thy cheek doth clothe 
 
 (But only that it far excels them both,) 
 
 AuroraJs blush resembles, or the red 
 
 That Iris frisks in when her mantle's spread. 
 
 Thy teeth in Avhite do Ledah swan exceed ; 
 
 Thy skin's a heavenly and immortal weed ; 
 
 And when thou breathest, winds are ready straight 
 
 To filch it from thee, and do therefore wait 
 
 Close at thy lij)S, and snatching it from thence, 
 
 Bear it to heaven, where 'tis Jovt^s frankincense. 
 
 Fair Goddess, since thy feature makes thee one, 
 Yet be not such for these respects alone ; 
 But, as you are divine in outward view. 
 So be within as fair, as good, as true.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. G5 
 
 The Enquiry. 
 {RigJitly attributed to Robert Heeeick.] [c/. p. 73. 
 
 AMONGST the myrtles as I walk'd, 
 Love and my sighs thus inter-talk'd : 
 ' Tell me,' said I, in deej? distress, 
 ' Where may I find my S]iepherdess ? ' 
 
 ' Thou fool ! ' said Love, ' know'st thou not this ? 
 
 In every thing that's good she is : 
 
 In yonder Tuliji go and seek, 
 
 There thou may'st find her lip, her cheek ; 
 
 ' In yon enamell'd Pansy l)y, 
 There thou shalt have her curious eye ; 
 In bloom of Peach, in rosy Bud, 
 There wave the streamers of her blood ; 
 
 ' In brightest Lily, that there stands, 
 The emblem of her whiter hands : — 
 On yonder rising Hill, there smell 
 Such sweets as in her bosom dwell.' 
 
 "Tis true !' said I ; and thereupon 
 I went to pluck them, one by one. 
 To make of parts a union : 
 But, on a sudden, all was gone. 
 
 With that I stopp'd. Said Love, ' These be. 
 
 Fond man ! resemblances of thee ; 
 
 And as these flowers, thy joys shall die, 
 
 Even in the twinkling of an eye : 
 
 And all thy hopes of her shall wither, 
 Like those short sweets thus knit together.' 
 
 The SrARK. 
 
 MY First Love, whom all beauties did adorn, 
 Firing my heart, suppress'd it with her scorn. 
 Sunlike, to tinder ; in my breast it lies. 
 By every sparkle made a sacrifice. 
 
 E
 
 66 THE POEMS OF 
 
 Each wanton eye now kindles my desire, 
 And that is free to all that was entire. 
 Desiring more, by thee desire I lost, 
 As those that in consumptions hunger most ; 
 And now my wand'ring thoughts are not confined 
 Unto one woman, but to woman-kind. 
 This for her shape I love, that for her face, 
 This for her gesture, or some other grace ; 
 And where I none of these do use to find, 
 I choose thereby the kernel, not the rind. 
 And so I hope, since my first hopes are gone, 
 To find in many what I lost in one ; 
 And, like to Merchants after some great loss, 
 Trade by retail, that cannot now in gross. 
 Cf. p. 73-] The fault is her's, who made me go astray : 
 
 He needs must wander that hath lost his way. 
 Guiltless I am : she did this change provoke. 
 And made that charcoal which at first was oak. 
 And as a Looking-glass, to the aspect, 
 Whilst it is whole, doth but one face reflect, 
 But, being crack'd or broken, there are shown 
 Many half -faces — which at first were one ; 
 So Love unto my heart did first prefer 
 Her image, and there planted none but her : 
 But since 'twas broke, and martyr'd by her scorn, 
 Many less faces are in her seat borne. 
 
 Thus, like to tinder, am I j)rone to catch 
 Each falling sparkle, fit for any match. 
 
 Love's Complement. 
 
 OMY Dearest, I shall grieve thee. 
 When I swear (yet. Sweet, believe me :) 
 By thine eyes, the tempting book 
 On which even crabbed old men look, — 
 
 I swear to thee, though none abhor them, 
 Yet I do not love thee for them.
 
 THOMAS GAREW. 67 
 
 I do not love tliee for that fair 
 
 Eich fan of thy most curious hair ; 
 
 Though the wires thereof be drawn 
 
 Finer than the threads of lawn, 
 And are softer than the leaves 
 On which the subtle spinner weaves. 
 
 I do not love thee for those llowers 
 Growing on thy cheeks— Love's bowers ; 
 Though such cunning hath them spread, 
 None can part their white and red ; 
 
 Love's golden arrows thence are shot 
 Yet for them I love thee not. 
 
 I do not love thee for those soft 
 Red coral lij^s I've kiss'd so oft ; 
 Nor teeth of pearl, the double guard 
 To speech, whence music still is heard : 
 
 Though from those lips a kiss being taken 
 Would Tyrants melt, and Death awaken. 
 
 I do not love thee, my fairest ! 
 For that richest — for that rarest 
 Silver pillar which stands under 
 Thy round head, that globe of wonder 
 Though that neck be whiter far 
 Than towers of polish'd ivory are. 
 
 I do not love thee for those mountains 
 Hill'd with snow ; whence milky fountains 
 (Sugar'd sweets, as sirup'd berries,) 
 Must one day run, through pipes of cherries : 
 
 O how much those breasts do move me ! 
 
 Yet for them I do not love thee.
 
 68 THE POEMS OF 
 
 I do not love thee for that l^elly, 
 Sleek as satin, soft as jelly ; 
 Though within that crystal Mound 
 Heajjs of treasure may be found, 
 
 So rich, that for the least of them 
 A king might leave his diadem. 
 
 I do not love thee for those thighs, 
 Wliose alal)aster rocks do rise 
 So high and even, that they stand 
 Like sea-marks to some happy land : 
 
 Happy they, whose eyes have seen them, 
 But happier he that sails between them. 
 
 I love thee not for thy moist palm, 
 Though the dew thereof be balm ; 
 Nor for thy pretty leg and foot, 
 Although it be the precious root 
 
 On which this goodly cedar grows : 
 Sweet, I love thee not for those. 
 
 Nor for thy wit, though pure and f^uick, 
 Whose substance no arithmetic 
 Can number down ; nor for the charms 
 Thou makest with thy embracing arms : 
 Tliough in them one night to lie, 
 Dearest, I would gladly die. 
 
 I love not for those eyes, nor hair, 
 Nor cheeks, nor lips, nor teeth so rare, 
 Nor for thy speech, thy neck, nor breast. 
 Nor for thy l)e]ly, nor the rest ; 
 
 Nor for thy hand nor foot so small : 
 
 But, would'st thou know, dear sweet ?— for All !
 
 A' 
 
 THOMAS CABEW. 69 
 
 A Song. 
 SK me no more where Jove bestows, 
 
 When June is past, the fading rose ? 
 For in your Beauty's orient deep 
 These liowers, as in their causes, sleep. 
 
 Ask me no more, whither do stray 
 The gohlen atoms of the day ? 
 For in pure love heaven did prepare 
 Those powders to enrich your hair. 
 
 Ask me no more, whither doth haste 
 The Nightingale, when May is past ? 
 For in your sweet dividing throat 
 She winters, and keeps warm her note. 
 
 Ask me no more, where those stars 'light. 
 That downwards fall in dead of night ? 
 For in your eyes they sit, and there 
 Fixed become, as in their sphere. 
 
 Ask me no more, if east or west 
 The Phoenix builds her spicy nest ? 
 For unto you at last she flies, 
 And in your fragrant bosom dies. 
 
 On sight of a Gentlewoman's Face, in the 
 Water. 
 
 STAND still, you floods ! do not deface 
 That iniage which you bear ; 
 So votaries from every place 
 To you shall altars rear.
 
 70 THE POEMS OF 
 
 No winds but Lovers' sighs blow liere, 
 To troulDle these glad streams, 
 
 On which no star from any sphere 
 Did ever dart such beams. 
 
 To crystal then in haste congeal, 
 Lest you should lose your bliss ; 
 
 And to my cruel Fair reveal 
 How cold, how hard she is ! 
 
 But if the envious Nymphs shall fear 
 Their beauties will be scorn'd, 
 
 And liire the ruder -ndnds to tear 
 That face which you adorn'd, — 
 
 Then rage and foam amain, that we 
 Their malice may despise ; 
 
 When from your froth we soon shall see 
 A second Venus rise. 
 
 Song, 
 
 WOULD you know what's soft 1 I dare 
 Not bring yoii to the doMTi, or air ; 
 Nor to stars, to show what's l^right ; 
 Nor to snow, to teach you white. 
 
 Nor, if you would Music hear, 
 Call the Orbs to take your ear ; 
 Nor, to please your sense, bring forth 
 Bruised Nard, or what's more worth. 
 
 Or, on food were your thoughts placed, 
 Bring you Nectar for a taste : 
 Would you have all these in one ? 
 Name my Mistress, and 'tis done.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 71 
 
 The Hue and Cry. tSee p. 179. 
 
 IN Love's name you are charged hereby 
 To make a speedy ' Hue and Cry ' 
 After a face, which, t'other day. 
 Stole my wand'ring heart away. 
 To direct you, these, in brief. 
 Are ready marks to know the Thief. 
 
 Her hair a net of beams would prove 
 Strong enough to captive Jove, 
 In his Eagle's shape ; her brow 
 Is a comely field of snow ; 
 Her eye so rich, so pure a grey, 
 Every beam creates a clay : 
 
 And, if she but sleep (not when 
 
 The smi sets), 'tis Night again. 
 
 In her cheeks are to be seen 
 Of flowers both the King and Queen, 
 Thither by the Graces led. 
 And freshly laid in nuptial bed ; 
 On whose lips, like-Nymphs do wait. 
 Who deplore their virgin state : 
 
 Oft they blush, and blush for this, 
 
 That they one another kiss. 
 
 But observe, besides the rest. 
 You shall know this Felon best 
 By her tongue ; for if your ear 
 Once a heavenly music hear, 
 Such as neither gods nor men — 
 But from that voice — shall hear again, 
 That, that is she. ! straight surprise, 
 And liring her unto Love's Assize. 
 If you let her go, she may 
 Ante-date the Latter Day, 
 
 Fate and Philosophy controul. 
 And leave the world without a soul.
 
 72 THE POEMS OF 
 
 SONG. 
 
 To HIS Mistress confined. 
 
 O THINK not, Pho^he, 'cause a cloud 
 Dotli now tliy silver brightness shroud, 
 My wand'ring eye 
 Can stoop to common beauties of the sky. 
 Eatlier be kind, and this eclipse 
 Shall neither hinder eye nor lij)s ; 
 For we shall meet 
 Within our hearts, and kiss, and none shall see't. 
 
 Nor can'st Ihou in thy prison be 
 Without some living sign of me ; 
 
 "Wlien thou dost spy 
 • A sunbeam j^eep into the room, 'tis I : 
 For I am hid within a flame. 
 And thus into thy chamber came. 
 To let thee see 
 In what a martyrdom I biirn for thee. 
 
 When thoii do'st touch thy Lute, thou mayest 
 Think on my heart, on which thou playest ; 
 
 When each sad tone 
 Upon the strings doth show my deeper groan : 
 When thou dost please, they shall rebound 
 With nimble airs, struck to the sound 
 Of thy own voice : 
 think, how much I tremble and rejoice ! 
 
 There's no sad picture that doth dwell 
 Uiion thy Arras-wall, but well 
 
 Resembles nie ; 
 No matter though our age do not agree. 
 Love can make old, as well as Time ; 
 And he that doth but twenty climb. 
 If he dare prove 
 As true as I, shows four-score years in love.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 73 
 
 The Primrose, 
 [Attributed, with ' The Enquiry,' to Egbert Herrick.] [p. 65. 
 
 A SK me why I send yon here 
 r\. This firstling of the infant Year 1 
 Ask me why I send to yon 
 This Primrose, all be-pearl'd with dew ? 
 I straight whisper to your ears, 
 « The sweets of Love are wash'd with tears.' 
 
 Ask me why this flower does show 
 
 So yellow-green, and sickly too ? — 
 
 Ask me why the stalk is weak, 
 
 And bending, yet it doth not break ? 
 I must tell you, ' These discover 
 What doubts and fears are in a Lover.' 
 
 -«?iS5>- 
 
 The Tinder. [Cj: r- 66. 
 
 OF Avhat mould did Nature frame me ? 
 Or was it her intent to shame me ? 
 That no woman can come near me, 
 Fair, but her I court to hear me ? 
 Sure that Mistress, to whose beauty 
 First I paid a Lover's duty, 
 Burn'd in rage my heart to tinder : 
 That nor prayers nor tears can hinder. 
 But where ever I do turn me, 
 Every spark let fall doth burn me. 
 
 Women, since you thus inflame me, 
 
 Flint and steel I'll ever name ye.
 
 74 THE POEMS OF 
 
 A Song. 
 
 IN lier fair cheeks two pits do lie, 
 To bury tliose slain by lier eye ; 
 So, spite of Death, tins comforts me, 
 That fairly buried I shall be : 
 My grave with rose and lily spread ! 
 O 'tis a life to be so dead ! 
 
 Come then, and kill me with thy eye : 
 For, if thou let me live, I die. 
 
 "VMien I behold those lips again — 
 Revi^dng, what those eyes have slain, 
 With kisses sweet, whose balsam pure 
 Love's wounds, as soon as made, can cure — 
 Methinks 'tis sickness to be sound. 
 And there's no health to such a wound. 
 Come then, and kill me with thy eye : 
 For, if thou let me live, I die. 
 
 When in her chaste breast I behold 
 Those downy mounts of snow, ne'er cold ; 
 And those blest hearts, her Beauty kills, 
 Eevive by climbing those fair hills : 
 Methinks there's life in such a death, 
 And so t' expire inspires new breath. 
 
 Come then, and kill me with thy eye : 
 For, if thou let me live, I die. 
 
 Nymph, since no death is deadly, where 
 Such choice of Antidotes is near. 
 And your keen eyes but kill in vain 
 Those that are sound, as soon as slain ; 
 That I no longer dead survive, 
 Your way 's to bury me alive 
 In Cupid's Cave : where happy I 
 May dying live, and living die. 
 
 Come then, and kill me with thy eye : 
 For, if thou let me live, I die.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 75 
 
 The Carver. 
 
 to his mistress. 
 
 A CARVER, having loved too long in vain, [''•«• Sculptor. 
 
 HeVd out tlie portiaiUire of Venu.s' sun 
 In marble rock, upon the wIulIi did rain 
 
 Small drizzling drops, that from a fount did run ; 
 Imagining the drops would either wear 
 
 His fury out, or quench his living flame : 
 But when he saw it bootless did aj^pear. 
 
 He swore the water did augment the same. 
 So I, that seek in verse to carve thee out. 
 
 Hoping thy Beauty will my flame allay, 
 Viewing my lines impolish'd all throughout. 
 
 Find my will rather to my love obey : 
 That with the Carver I my work do blame. 
 Finding it still th' augmenter of my flame. 
 
 To THE Painter. 
 
 FOND man, that hopest to catch that face 
 With those false colours, whose short grace 
 Serves but to show the lookers-on 
 The faults of thy presumption ; 
 Or, at the least, to let us see 
 That is divine, but yet not she : 
 Say, you could imitate the rays 
 Of those eyes that outshine the days, 
 Or counterfeit in red and white 
 That most uncounterfeited light 
 Of her comx^lexion ; yet can'st thou, 
 Great master though thou be, tell how 
 
 To paint a Virtue ? Then desist, 
 
 This Fair your artifice hath miss'd.
 
 7G THE POEMS OF 
 
 You should liave mark'd how she begins 
 To grow in virtue, not in sins : 
 Instead of that same rosy dye, 
 You should have drawn out Modesty, 
 Whose beauty sits enthroned there, 
 And learn'd to look and blush at her. 
 
 Or can you colour just the same. 
 When virtue blushes, or when shame ? 
 When sickness, and when innocence, 
 Shows pale or white unto the sense ? 
 Can such coarse varnish e'er be said 
 To imitate her white and red ? 
 This may do well elsewhere, in Spain, 
 Among those faces dyed in grain ; 
 
 So you may thrive, and what you do 
 Prove the best picture of the two. 
 
 Besides, if all I liear be true, 
 'Tis taken ill by some that you 
 Should be so insolently vain. 
 As to contrive all that rich gain 
 Into one Tablet, which alone 
 May teach us superstition : 
 Instructing our amazed eyes 
 To admire and worship Imag'ries, 
 Such as quickly might outshine 
 Some new Saint, wei'e 't allow'd a shrine, 
 
 And turn each wand'ring looker-on 
 
 Into a new Pygmaleon. 
 
 Yet your art cannot equalise 
 This picture in her Lover's eyes ; 
 His eyes the pencils are which limn 
 Her truly, as her's coj)y him :
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 77 
 
 His lieai't the Tablet, wliicli alone 
 
 Is for tliat jjortrait tli' truest stone. 
 
 If you would a truer see, 
 
 Mai'k it in tlxeir j^osterity : 
 
 And you sliall read it ti'uly tliere, 
 
 When the glad world shall see their Heir. 
 
 Love's Courtship : To Ceiia. 
 
 KISS, lovely Celia, and lie kind ; 
 Let my desires freedom find ! 
 Sit thee down, 
 And we will make the Gods confess 
 Mortals enjoy some happiness. 
 
 Mars would disdain his Mistress' charms 
 If he beheld thee in my arms, 
 And descend, 
 Thee his mortal Queen to make : 
 Or live as mortal for thy sake. 
 
 Venus must lose her title now, 
 And leave to brag of dqnd's bow ; 
 
 Silly Queen ! 
 She hath but one, but I can spy 
 Ten thousand Ouinds in thy eye. 
 
 Nor may the Sun behold our bliss. 
 For sure thy eyes do dazzle his ; 
 
 If thou fear 
 That he'll betray thee with his light. 
 Let me eclipse thee from his sight ! 
 
 And while I shade thee from his eye, 
 Oh ! let me hear thee gently cry, 
 
 ' Celia yields ! ' 
 Maids often lose their maidenhead, 
 Ere they set foot in nuptial l^ed.
 
 78 THE POEMS OF 
 
 On a Damask Rose, 
 worn upon a lady's breast. 
 
 LET pride grow big, my Rose, and let tlie clear 
 V And damask colour of tliy leaves appear ; 
 Let scent and looks be sweet, and bless that hand 
 That did transplant thee to thy sacred land. 
 happy thou ! that in such garden rests, 
 That Paradise between a Lady's breasts ' 
 
 : 1 
 
 There's an eternal Summer ; thou shalt lie 
 Betwixt two Lily mounts, and never die. 
 There shalt thou spring, amongst the fertile valleys, 
 By buds, like thee, that grow in 'midst of Lilies. 
 There none dare pluck thee : for that place is such. 
 That — but a good Divine — none dare to touch. 
 If any but approach, straight doth arise 
 A blushing light'ning flash, and blasts his eyes. 
 There, 'stead of rain, shall living fountains flow ; 
 For wind, her fragrant breath for ever blow : 
 
 Nor now, as erst, one Sun shall on thee shine, 
 But those two glorious suns, her eyes divine. 
 
 O then, what Monarch would not think 't a grace 
 To leave his regal throne to have thy place ? 
 My self, to gain thy blessed seat, do vow. 
 Would be transform'd into a Rose, as thou. 
 
 The Protestation. 
 
 A SONNET. 
 
 N 
 
 T more shall meads be deck'd with flowers, 
 N Nor sweetness dwell in rosy bowers, 
 Nor greenest buds on branches spring. 
 Nor warbling birds delight to sing. 
 
 Nor April violets paint the grove. 
 If I forsake my Celiacs love.
 
 THOMAS a A MEW. 79 
 
 The fish shall in the ocean burn, 
 And fountains sweet shall Littei- turn ; 
 The humble oak no flood shall know, 
 When floods shall highest hills o'er-flow : 
 
 Black Lethe shall oblivion leave. 
 
 If e'er my Celia I deceive. 
 
 Love shall his bow and shaft lay by, 
 And Venus' doves want wings to fly ; 
 The Sun refuse to show his liglit, 
 And day shall then be turn'd to night : 
 
 And in that night no star appear, 
 
 If once I leave my Celia dear. 
 
 Love shall no more inhabit Earth, 
 
 Nor lovers more shall love for worth, 
 
 Nor joy above in heaven dwell, 
 
 Nor pain torment poor souls in hell ; 
 
 Grim Death no more shall horrid prove : 
 If e'er I leave bright Celia's love. 
 
 The Tooth-ache cured by a Kiss. 
 
 F 
 
 ATE 's now grown merciful to men, 
 
 Turning disease to bliss 
 
 For had not kind rheum vext me, then, 
 
 I might not Celia kiss. 
 Physicians, yon are now my scorn. 
 
 For 1 have found a way 
 To cure diseases — when forlorn 
 
 By your dull art — which may 
 Patch np a body for a time : 
 
 But can restore to health 
 No more than 'chymists can sublime 
 
 True Gold, the Indies' wealth. 
 That Angel sure, that used to move 
 
 The Pool men so admired, [Bethesda. 
 
 Hath to her lip, the seat of Love, 
 
 As to his heaven, retired.
 
 80 THE POEMS OF 
 
 The Dart. 
 
 OFT wlieii I look I may descry 
 A little face peep tlirougli that eye ; 
 Sure, tliat's tlie Boy, who wisely chose 
 His throne among such beams as those, 
 Which, if his quiver chance to fall, 
 May serve for darts to kill withal. 
 
 The Mistake. 
 
 WHEN on fair Celia I did spy 
 A wounded heart of stone, 
 Tlie wound had almost made me cry, 
 ' Sure this heart is my own ! ' 
 
 But when I saw it was enthroned 
 
 In her celestial breast, 
 then I it no longer own'd, 
 
 For mine was ne'er so blest. 
 
 Yet, if in highest heavens do shine 
 Each constant jMartyr's heart, 
 
 Then she may well give rest to mine, 
 That for her sake doth smart ; 
 
 W^iere, seated in so high a bliss. 
 Though wounded, it shall live ; 
 
 Death enters not in Paradise : 
 The place free life doth give. 
 
 Or if the place less sacred were, 
 
 Did but her sa^^ng eye 
 Bathe my sick heart in one kind tear. 
 
 Then should I never die. 
 
 Slight balms may heal a slighter sore, 
 
 No medicine less di\dne 
 Can ever hope for to restore 
 
 A wounded heart like mine.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 81 
 
 To HIS Jealous Mistbess. 
 
 ADMIT, thou darling of mine eyes, 
 *- I have some Idol lately framed, 
 That under such a false disguise 
 
 Our true loves might the less be famed : 
 Can'st thou, that knowest my heart, suppose 
 I'll fall from thee, and worship those 1 
 
 Kemember, Dear, how loth and slow 
 
 I was to cast a look or smile. 
 Or one love-line to misbestow. 
 
 Till thou had'st changed both face and style 
 And art thou grown afraid to see 
 That mask put on, thou madest for me. 
 
 I dare not call those childish fears, 
 
 Coming from Love, much less from thee ; 
 
 But wash away, with frequent tears. 
 This counterfeit Idolatry : 
 
 And henceforth kneel at ne'er a shrine, 
 
 To blind the world, Ijut only thine. 
 
 On the Marriage op T{homas\ K[illigre]v'\ and 
 G\ecilia\ G[rofts\ : the morning stormy. 
 
 SUCH should this day be, so the Sun should hide 
 His bashful face, and let the conquering Bride 
 
 Without a rival shine, whilst he forbears 
 
 To mingle his unequal beams with hers ; 
 
 Or if sometimes he glance his squinting eye 
 
 Between the parting clouds, 'tis but to spy, 
 
 Not emulate, her glories ; so comes drest 
 
 In veils, but as a ]\Iasquer to the feast. 
 
 Thus heaven should lour, such stormy gusts should blow, 
 
 Not to denounce ungentle fates, but shoAV 
 
 The cheerful Bridegroom to the clouds and wind 
 Hath all his tears and all his sighs assign'd.
 
 82 THE POEMS OF 
 
 Let tempests struggle in tlie air, but rest 
 Eternal calms witliin tliy peaceful breast, 
 Thrice bappy youtli ! but ever sacrifice 
 To that fair "band that dried tby blubber'd eyes,— 
 Tbat crown'd thy head with roses, and turn'd all 
 The plagues of love into a cordial, — 
 When first it join'd her virgin snow to thine : 
 Which, when to-day the Priest shall re- combine, 
 From the mysterious holy touch such charms 
 Will flow, as shall unlock her wreathed arms, 
 And ojien a free passage to that fruit 
 Which thou hast toil'd for with a long pursuit. 
 
 But ere thou feed, that thou may'st better taste 
 
 Thy present joys, think on thy torments past ; 
 
 Think on the mercy freed thee ; think upon 
 
 Her virtues, graces, beauties, one by one : 
 
 So shaft thou relish all, enjoy the whole 
 
 Delights of her fair body and pure soul. 
 
 Then boldly to the fight of Love proceed ! 
 
 'Tis mercy not to pity, though she bleed. 
 
 We'll strew no nuts, but change that ancient form, 
 
 For till to-morrow we'll prorogue this storm ; 
 
 Which shall confound, with its loud whistling noise, 
 Her pleasing shrieks, and fan thy panting joys. 
 
 Upon my Lord Chief Justice [Sir John Finch], 
 
 HIS ELECTION OF My LaDY AInn] ]]\ENTW0RTH\ 
 
 FOR HIS Mistress. 
 
 H 
 
 EAR this, and tremble, all 
 Usurping Beauties, that create 
 A Government tyrannical, 
 In Love's free state ! 
 Justice hath to the sword of your edged eyes 
 His equal balance join'd ; his sage head lies 
 In Love's soft lap, which must be just and wise.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 83 
 
 II. 
 
 Hark ! liow the stern Law breathes 
 
 Forth amorous siglis, and now prepares 
 No fetters, but of silken wreaths, 
 And braided hairs ; 
 His dreadful Eods and Axes are exiled. 
 Whilst he sits crown'd with roses : Love hath filed 
 His native roughness : Justice is grown mild. 
 
 III. 
 
 The Golden Age returns ! 
 
 Love's bow and quiver useless lie ; 
 His shaft, his brand, nor wounds nor burns. 
 And cruelty 
 Is sunk to Hell : the Fair shall all be kind : 
 Wlio loves shall be beloved, the froward mind 
 To a deformed shape shall be confined. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Astrcea hath possess'd 
 
 An earthly seat, and now remains 
 In FincKs heart, but Wentworth's breast 
 That guest contains ; 
 With her she dwells, yet hath not left the skies, 
 Nor lost her sphere : for, new enthroned, she ci'ies 
 ' I know no Heaven but fair JVent worth's eyes.' 
 
 Hymeneal Song, on the Nuptials of the 
 Lady Ann Went worth and the Lord Lovelace. 
 
 BREAK not the slumbers of the Bride, 
 But let the sun in triumph ride. 
 Scattering his beamy light ; 
 Wlien she awakes, he shall resign 
 His rays : and she alone sliall shine 
 In glory all the night.
 
 84 THE POEMS OF 
 
 For i^he, till day return, must keep 
 An amorous Vigil, and not steep 
 Her fair eyes in the dew of sleep. 
 
 Yet gently wliisper, as she lies, 
 And say ' lier Lord waits her uprise, 
 
 The Priests at the Altar stay : 
 With flowery wreaths the Virgin crew 
 Attend, while some with roses strew, 
 
 And myrtles trim the way.' 
 
 Now to the Temple and the Priest 
 See her Convey'd, thence to the Feast ; 
 Then back to bed, though not to rest. 
 
 For now, to crown his faith and truth, 
 We must admit the noble youth 
 
 To revel in Love's sphere ; 
 To rule, as chief Intelligence, 
 That Orb, and happy time dispense 
 
 To wretched Lovers here. 
 
 For they are exalted far above 
 
 All hope, fear, change ; or they do move 
 
 The wheel that spins, the Fates of Love, 
 
 They know no night, nor glaring noon, 
 Measure no hours of Sun or Moon, 
 
 Nor mark Time's restless glass ; 
 Their kisses measure as they flow 
 Minutes, and their embraces show 
 
 The hours as they pass. 
 
 Their motions the Year's circle make, 
 And we from their conjunctions take 
 Rules to make Love an Almanack. 
 
 YThis 'Hymeneal Song,' on the Lady Ann Wentworth's 
 
 Nuptials, was first printed in the 1642 edition. See tiote, in 
 Appendix. ]
 
 THOMAS GAREW. 85 
 
 A Married Woman. 
 
 WHEN I shall marry, if I do not find 
 A wife thus moulded, I'll create this kind : 
 Nor from her nolile birth, nor ample dower, 
 Beauty, nor wit, shall she deri^'e a power 
 To prejudice my Eight ; but if she be 
 A subject born, she shall be so to me. 
 As to the soul the flesh, so Appetite 
 To Eeason is ; which shall oi;r wills unite, 
 In habits so confirm'd, as no rough sway 
 Shall once appear, if she but learns t' obey. 
 For in habitual virtues sense is wrought 
 To that calm temper, as the body 's thought 
 To have nor blood nor gall, if wild and rude 
 Passions of Lust and Anger are subdued ; 
 When 'tis the fair obedience to the soul 
 Doth in the birth those swelling Acts controul. 
 If I in Murder steep my furious rage, 
 Or with Adult'ry my hot lust assuage, 
 Will it suffice to say, ' My sense — the Beast — 
 Provoked me to 't ? ' Could I my soul divest. 
 My plea were good. Lions nnd bulls commit 
 Both freely, but man must in judgment sit. 
 And tame this Beast ; for Adam Avas not free 
 When in excuse he said, ' Eve gave it me ! ' 
 Had he not eaten, she perhaps had been 
 Unpunish'd : his consent made her's a sin. 
 
 A Divine Love. 
 
 WHY should dull Art, which is wise Nature's aj^e. 
 If she produce a Shape 
 So far beyond all patterns that of old 
 
 Fell from her mould. 
 As thine, admired Lminda ! not luring forth [C/. p. 99. 
 
 An equal wonder to express that worth 
 
 In some new way, that hath 
 Like her great work no print of vulgar path ?
 
 86 THE POEMS OF 
 
 Is it because the rapes of Poetry, 
 
 Eifliiig the spacious sky 
 
 Of all its fires, light, beauty, influence, 
 Did those disj)ense 
 
 On aery Creations, that surpass'd 
 
 The real works of Nature ; she at last, 
 
 To prove their raptures vain, 
 
 Show'd such a light as Poets could not feign. 
 
 Or is it 'cause the factious wits did y\q 
 
 With vain Idolatry, 
 Whose Goddess was supreme, and so had hurl'd 
 
 Schism through the world. 
 Whose Priest sung sweetest lays, — thou did'st appear, 
 A glorious mystery, so dark, so clear, 
 
 As Nature did intend 
 All should confess, but none might comprehend. 
 
 Perhaps all other lieauties share a light 
 Proportion'd to the sight 
 
 Of weak mortality ; scattering such loose fires 
 As stir desires, 
 
 And from the brain distil salt amorous rheumes ; 
 
 Whilst thy immortal flame such dross consumes, 
 And from the earthy mould 
 
 With purging fires severs the purer gold ? 
 
 If so, then why in Fame's immortal scroll 
 Do we their names emboli, 
 
 Wliose easy hearts and wanton eyes did sweat 
 With sensual heat ? 
 
 If Petrarch's unarm'd bosom catch a wound 
 
 From a light glance, must Laura be renown'd ? 
 Or both a glory gain, 
 
 He from ill-govern'd Love, she from Disdain ?
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 87 
 
 Shall lie more famed in liis great Art become, 
 
 For wilful martjaxlom ? 
 Shall she more title gain, too chaste and fair. 
 
 Through his despair 1 
 Is Troy more noble 'cause to ashes turn'd, 
 Tlian virgin cities that yet never burn'd ? 
 
 Is fire, when it consumes 
 Temples, more fire, than when it nielts perfumes ? 
 
 'Cause Venus from the Ocean took her form, 
 Must Love needs be a storm ? 
 
 'Cause she her wanton shrines in Islands rears. 
 Through seas of tears ; — 
 
 O'er rocks and gulfs, with our own sighs for gale, 
 
 Must we to Cyyrus or to Paphos sail 1 
 
 Can there no way be given. 
 
 But a true Hell, that leads to her false Heaven ? 
 
 Love's Force. 
 
 IN the first ruder Age, when Love was wild. 
 Nor yet by Laws reclaim'd, not reconciled 
 To order, nor by Eeason mann'd, but flew 
 FuU-summ'd by Nature, on tlie instant view. 
 Upon the wings of Appetite, at all 
 The eye could fair or sense delightful call ; 
 Election was not yet : but as their cheap 
 Food from the oak, or the next acorn-heap — 
 As water from the nearest spring or brook — 
 So men their undistinguish'd females took 
 By chance, not choice. But soon the heavenly sparlv, 
 That in man's bosom lurk'd, broke through this dark 
 Confusion : then the noblest breast first felt 
 It self, for its OAvn proper object melt.
 
 88 THE POEMS OF 
 
 A Faxcy. 
 
 MARK liow this polisli'd Eastern slieet 
 Dotli witli our Northern tincture meet I 
 
 For though the paper seem to sink, 
 
 Yet it receives and bears the Ink ; 
 
 And on her smooth soft brow these spots 
 
 Seem rather ornaments than blots : 
 
 Like those you Ladies use to place 
 
 Mysteriously about your face, 
 
 Not only to set off and break 
 
 Shadows and eye-beams, but to speak 
 
 To the skill'd Lover, and relate 
 
 Unheard his sad or hapjay fate. 
 Nor do their characters delight 
 
 As careless works of black and white ; 
 
 But 'cause you underneath may find 
 
 A sense that can inform the mind ; 
 
 Divine or moral Rules impart, 
 
 Or Raptures of Poetic Art : 
 
 So what at first was only fit 
 
 To fold up silks, may wrap up wit. 
 
 To HIS Mistress. 
 
 GRIEVE not, my Celia, but with haste 
 Obey the fury of thy fate ; 
 'Tis some perfection to waste 
 
 Discreetly out our wretched state : 
 To be obedient in this sense 
 Will prove thy virtue, though oflFence. 
 
 "Who knows but Destiny may relent ? 
 
 For many miracles have been : 
 Thou proving thus obedient 
 
 To all the griefs she plunged thee in : 
 And then, the certainty she meant 
 Reverted is, by accident.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 89 
 
 But yet, I must confess, 'tis much. 
 When we remember what hath been : 
 
 Thus i^arting, never more to touch, 
 To let eternal absence in : 
 
 Though never was our pleasure yet 
 
 So pure, but chance distracted it. 
 
 What, shall we tlien submit to Fate, 
 
 And die to one another's love ? 
 No, Celia, no, my soul doth hate 
 
 Tliose Lovers that inconstant proA^e. 
 Fate may be cruel, but if you decline. 
 The crime is yours, and all the glory mine. 
 
 Fate, and the Planets, sometimes bodies part : 
 But canker'd nature only alters th' heart. 
 
 Song. r&« note, 
 
 Lia Appendix. 
 
 COME, my Celia, let us prove, 
 While we may, the sports of Love ; 
 Time will not be ours for ever. 
 He at length our good will sever. 
 
 Spend not then his gifts in vain, 
 Suns that set may rise again. 
 But if once we lose this light, 
 'Tis with us perpetual night. 
 
 Why should we defer our joys 1 
 Fame and rumour are biit toys. 
 Cannot we delude the eyes 
 Of a few poor hoiisehold spies ? 
 
 Or his easier ears beguile. 
 So removed, by our wile ? 
 'Tis no sin Love's Fruit to steal, 
 But the sweet theft to reveal. 
 
 To be taken, to be seen : 
 
 These have crimes accounted been.
 
 90 THE POEMS OF 
 
 In Praise of his Mistress. 
 
 YOU that will a wonder know, 
 Go with me ! 
 Two Suns in a Heaven of Snow 
 
 Both burning be : 
 All they fire, that do but eye them, 
 But the snow 's unmelted by them. 
 
 Leaves of Crimson Tulips met, 
 
 Guide the way 
 Where two Pearly rows be set, 
 
 As white as day : 
 When they part themselves asunder, 
 She breathes Oracles of wonder. 
 
 Hills of milk, with azure mix'd, 
 
 Swell beneath ; 
 Waving sweetly, yet still fix'd, 
 
 While she doth breathe : 
 From those hills descends a valley, 
 AVhere all fall, that dare to dally. 
 
 Fair as under Statues stand, 
 
 Pillars two ; 
 Wliiter than the silver Swan 
 
 That swims in Po : 
 If at any time they move her. 
 Every step begets a Lover. 
 
 All this but the Casket is. 
 
 Which contains 
 Such a Jewel, as to miss 
 
 Breeds endless pains ; 
 That's her Mind : and they that know it. 
 May admire, but cannot show it.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 91 
 
 To Gelia, on Love's Ubiquity. 
 
 AS one that strives, being sick, and sick to death. 
 By changing places to preserve a breath, 
 A tedious restless breath ; removes, and tries 
 A thousand rooms, a thousand policies, 
 
 To cozen pain, when he thinks to find ease : 
 At last he finds all change, but his disease. 
 
 So, like a Ball with fire and i;iowder fill'd, 
 I restless am, yet live, each minute kill'd : 
 And, with that moving, torture must retain — 
 With change of all things else — a constant pain. 
 
 So I stay with you, presence is to me 
 Nought but a light to show my misery ; 
 And partings are as Racks to plague Love on : 
 The further stretch'd, the more affliction. 
 
 Go I to Holland, France, or farthest Ind, 
 I change but only countries, not my mind ; 
 And though I 2:»ass through air and water free, 
 Despair and hopeless fate still follow me. 
 
 Whilst in the bosom of the waves I reel, 
 My heart I'll liken to the tottering Keel, 
 The Sea to my own troubled fate, the Wind 
 To your disdain, sent from a soul unkind. 
 
 But when I lift my sad looks to the skies. 
 Then shall I think I see my Celiacs eyes ; 
 And when a cloud or storm appears between, 
 I shall remember what her frowns have been. 
 Thus, whatsoever course my Fates allow, 
 All things but make me mind my business : You. 
 
 The good things that I meet, I think streams be. 
 From you, the Fountain ; but when bad I see, 
 ' How vile and cursed is that thing ! ' think I, 
 ' That to such goodness is so contrary ! '
 
 92 THE POEMS OF 
 
 My whole life is 'Ijoiit you, tlie Centre Star ; 
 
 But a perpetual Motion Circular. 
 
 I am tlie Dial's hand, still walking round ; 
 
 You are the Compass : and I never sound 
 Beyond your circle, neither can I show 
 Aught, but what first exj)ressed is in you. 
 
 Thus, wheresoe'er my tears do cause me move, 
 My fate still keej)s me bounded with your love ; 
 Which, ere it die, or be extinct in me, 
 Time shall stand still, and moist waves flaming be. 
 Yet, being gone, think not on me : I am 
 A thing too wretched for thy thoughts to name : 
 But when I die, and wish all comforts given, 
 I'll think on you, and by you think on heaven. 
 
 F 
 
 On his Mistress Going to Sea. 
 Cf. p. 104.] (Music composed to it hy Henry Lawes.) 
 
 'AEEWELL, fair Saint ! may not the sea and wind 
 Swell like the hearts and eyes you leave behind ; 
 But calm and gentle, as the looks you bear. 
 Smile in your face, and whisper in your ear 
 
 Let no bold billow offer to arise, 
 That it may nearer gaze upon your eyes : 
 Lest wind and wave, enamour'd of your form. 
 Should throng and crowd themselves into a storm. 
 
 But if it be your fate, vast Seas ! to love, 
 Of my becalmed breast learn how to move ; 
 Move then, but in a gentle Lover's pace : 
 No wrinkle, nor no furrow, in your face. 
 
 And you, fierce Winds, see that you tell your tale 
 In such a breath as may but fill her Sail ; 
 So, whilst you coiirt her, each your several way. 
 You may her safely to her Port convey. 
 
 And loose her, by the noblest way of Wooing : 
 Whilst both contribute to your own undoing.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 'J3 
 
 To A\nn\ D[ori8\ Unreasonable, 
 Distrustful of her own Beauty. 
 
 FAIR Doris, break thy glass ! it hath perplex'd 
 With a dark comment Beauty's clearest text ; 
 It hath not told thy face's story true, 
 But brought false copies to thy jealous view. 
 No colour, feature, loA'ely air or grace. 
 That ever yet adorn'd a beauteous face, 
 But thou may'st read in thine ; or justly doubt 
 Thy glass hath been suborn'd to leave it out. 
 But if it offer to thy nice survey 
 A spot, a stain, a blemish, or decay. 
 
 It not belongs to thee : the treacherous light 
 Or faithless stone abuse thy credulous sight. 
 
 Perhaps the magic of thy face hath wrought 
 Upon th' enchanted Crystal, and so brought 
 Fantastic shadows to delude thine eyes, 
 With aiiy repercussive sorceries ; 
 Or else th' enamour'd Image pines away 
 For love of the fair oliject, and so may 
 Wax pale and wan, and though the substance grow 
 Lively and fresh, that may consxime with woe : 
 Give then no faith to the false specular stone, 
 But let thy beauties by th' effects be known. 
 
 Look, sweetest Boris, on my love-sick heart, 
 In that true mirror see how fair thou art ! 
 There, by Love's never-erring pencil drawn, 
 Shalt thou behold thy face, like tli' early dawn. 
 Shoot through the shady covert of thy hair, 
 Enamelling and j^erfuming the calm air 
 With pearls and roses, till thy suns display 
 Their lids, and let out the imprison'd clay ; 
 Whilst Delphic priests, enlight'ned by their theme, 
 In amorous numbers count thy golden beam : 
 And from Love's altars clouds of sighs arise 
 In smoking incense, to adore thine eyes.
 
 94 THE POEMS OF 
 
 If, then, Love flow from Beauty, as tli' effect, 
 How can'st tliou tlie resistless caiise suspect ? 
 Who would not brand that Fool, who should contend 
 There was no tire, where smoke and flames ascend ? 
 Distrust is worse than scorn : not to believe 
 My harms, is greater wrong than not to grieve. 
 What cure can for my fest'ring sore be found, 
 "Whilst thou believest thy Beauty cannot wound ? 
 Such humble thoughts moi'e cruel tyrants prove 
 Than all the pride that e'er usurp'd in Love, 
 For Beauty's herald here denounceth war : 
 There are false sj^ies betray me to a snare. 
 If fire, disguised in balls of snow, were hurled. 
 It unsuspected might consume the world ; 
 Wliere our prevention ends, danger begins, 
 So wolves in sheejs's — lions in asses' skins — 
 
 Might far more mischief work, because less fear'd : 
 Those the whole flock, these might kill all the herd. 
 
 Appear then as thou art, break through this cloud. 
 Confess thy beauty, though thou thence grow proud ; 
 Be fair, though scornful ; rather let me find 
 Thee cruel, than thus mild and more unkind : 
 Thy cruelty doth only me defy. 
 But these dull thoughts thee to thy self deny. 
 Whether thou mean to barter, or bestow. 
 Thy self, 'tis fit thou thine own value know. 
 
 I ■will not cheat thee of thy self, nor pay 
 Less for thee than thou'i't worth ; thou shalt not say 
 ' That is but brittle glass,' which I have found 
 By strict enquiry a firm diamond. 
 I'll trade with no such Indian fool, who sells 
 Gold, jjearls, and precious stones, for beads and bells ; 
 Nor will I take a present from your hand. 
 Which you or prize not, or not understand. 
 It not endears your bounty that I do 
 Esteem your gift, miless you do so too : 
 You undervalue me, when you bestow 
 On me what vou nor care for, nor vet know.
 
 THOMAS GAREW. 95 
 
 ' No, lovely Doris, change thy thoughtSj and be 
 In love first with thy self, and then with nie. 
 You are afflicted that you are not fair, 
 And I as much tormented that you are. 
 What I admire, you scorn ; what I love, hate ; 
 Tlirough different faiths, both share an equal fate ; 
 
 Fast to the truth, which you renounce, I stick : 
 
 I die a Martyr, you an Heretic. 
 
 To A Lady, that desired I would Love her. 
 
 NOW you have freely given me leave to \o\e, 
 What will you do ? 
 Shall I your mirth or j^assion move 
 
 AVlien I begin to woo 1 
 Will you torment, or scorn, or love me too ? 
 
 II. 
 
 Each petty Beauty can disdain, and I, 
 
 'Spite of your hate, 
 
 Without your leave can see, and die. 
 
 Dis2:)ense a nobler fate ! 
 
 'Tis easy to destroy : you may create. 
 
 III. 
 
 Then give me leave to love, and love me too : 
 
 Not with design 
 
 To raise, as Love's curst rebels do, 
 
 A\1ien puling poets whine. 
 
 Fame to their Beauty, from their blubber'd eyne. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Grief is a puddle, and reflects not clear 
 
 Your Beauty's rays ; 
 
 Joys are pure streams : your eyes appear 
 
 Sullen in sadder lays : 
 
 In cheerful numbers they shine bright with praise,
 
 y6 THE POEMS OF 
 
 ■\Vliicli shall not mention to express, you Fair ! 
 
 Wounds, flames, and darts. 
 Storms in your brow, nets in your hair, — 
 
 Suborning all your parts, 
 Or to betray, or tortiire captive hearts. 
 
 VI. 
 
 I'll make your eyes like morning suns appear. 
 
 As mild and fair ; 
 
 Your brow as crystal smooth and clear ; 
 
 And your dishevell'd hair 
 
 Shall flow like a calm region of the air. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Rich Nature's store, which is the Poet's treasure, 
 
 I'll spend to dress 
 
 Your beauties, if your mine of jileasure 
 
 In equal thankfulness 
 
 You but unlock : so we each other bless. 
 
 For a Picture, where a Queen Laments over 
 THE Tomb of a Slain Knight. 
 
 BRAVE Youth, to whom Fate in one hour 
 Gave death and conquest, by whose power 
 Those chains about my heart are wound, 
 With which the Foe my kingdom bound : 
 Freed and captived by thee, I bring 
 For either act an offering. 
 For Victory, this wreath of Bay ; 
 In sign of thraldom, down I lay 
 Sceptre and crown : take from my sight 
 Those Royal robes, since Fortime's spite 
 
 Forbids me live thy Virtue's prize 
 
 I'll die thy Valour's sacrifice.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 97 
 
 A New Year's Gift. 
 
 l.-TO THE KING. [Charles 1. 
 
 LOOK back, old Janus, and survey 
 From Time's birtli till this new-born day, 
 All the successful season bound 
 With laurel wreaths, and trophies crown'd ; 
 Turn o'er the Annals i3ast, and where 
 HajJiay auspicious days appear, 
 Mark'd with the whiter stone, that cast 
 On the dark brow of th' ages past 
 A dazzling lustre, let them shine 
 In this succeeding circle's twine. 
 Till it be round with glories spread. 
 Then with it crown our Charles his head : 
 
 That we th' ensuing years may call 
 
 One great continued festival. 
 
 Fresh joys, in varied forms, apply 
 
 To each distinct caj)tivity. 
 
 Season his cares l)y day with nights 
 
 Crown'd with all conjugal delights ; 
 
 May the choice beauties that enflame 
 
 His Royal breast be still the same ; 
 
 And he still think them such, since more 
 Thou can'st not give from Nature's store. 
 
 Then as a Father let him be 
 With numerous issue blest, and see 
 The fair and god-like offspring grown 
 From budding stars to suns full blown. 
 Circle with jjeaceful olive boughs 
 And conquering bays his Regal brows ; 
 Let his strong virtues overcome 
 And bring him bloodless Trophies home ; 
 Strew all the pavements where he treads 
 With loyal hearts or rebels' heads : 
 
 But, Bifront, open thou no more ^^^^ ^^ 
 
 In his blest reign thy Temple door.
 
 98 THE POEMS OF 
 
 A New Year's Gift. 
 
 II. — TO THE QUEEN. 
 
 THOU great Commandress, that do'st move 
 Thy sceptre o'er the crown of Love, 
 
 And through his empire, with the awe 
 
 Of thy chaste beams, dost give the law ; 
 
 From his profaner altars we 
 
 Turn to adore thy deity. 
 
 He only can wild lust provoke ; 
 
 Thou those impvirer flames can'st choke ; 
 And where he scatters looser fires, 
 Thou turn'st them into chaste desires. 
 
 His kingdom knows no rule but this : 
 ' Whatever pleaseth, laioful is : ' 
 Thy sacred lore shows us the path 
 Of Modesty and constant Faith, 
 Which makes the rude Male satisfied 
 With one fair Female by his side : 
 Doth either sex to each unite, 
 And form Love's pure hermaphrodite. 
 To this thy faith, behold the wild 
 Satyrs already reconciled, 
 
 Who from the influence of thine eye 
 
 Have suck'd the deep divinity. 
 
 O free them then, that they may teach 
 The Centaur, and the Horse-man preach 
 To beasts and birds, sweetly to rest. 
 Each in his proper lair and nest ; 
 They shall convey it to the flood. 
 Till there thy law be understood : 
 So shall thou with thy pregnant fire 
 The water, earth, and air inspire.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. D9 
 
 To THE New Year. 
 
 in.— FOR TIIB COUNTESS OF CARLISLE. ' 
 
 [LADY LL'Cr I/.tr, BORN FERCl': VIDUA, 1656.I iPb. 1660. 
 
 GIVE Lncinda pearl nor stone ; 
 Lend them light who e 
 Let her beauties shine alone. 
 
 vJ Lend them light who else ha\e none ; 
 
 Gums nor spice bring from the East ; 
 For the Phrenix, in her breast 
 Builds his funeral pile and nest. 
 
 No attire thou can'st invent 
 Shall to grace her form be sent : 
 She adorns all ornament. 
 
 Give her nothing : but restore 
 Those sweet smiles, which heretofore 
 In her cheerful eyes she wore. 
 
 Drive those envious clouds away ; 
 Veils that have o'er-cast my day, 
 And eclipsed her brighter ray. 
 
 Let the royal Goth mow down 
 This year's harvest with his own 
 Sword, and spare Lucinda's frown. 
 
 Janus, if when next I trace 
 Those sw^eet lips, I in her face 
 Read the Charter of my grace, 
 
 Then from bright Afollo's tree 
 Such a garland wreath'd shall be, 
 As shall crown both her and thee.
 
 w 
 
 100 THE POEMS OF 
 
 To MY Lord Admiral, 
 [George Villiees, Duke of Buckingham,] 
 
 Ob. Aug. 1628.] ON HIS LATE SICKNESS AND RECOVERY. 
 
 ''ITH joy like ours, the Thracian youtli invade 
 Orpheus returning from tli' Elysian sliade, 
 Embrace tlie Hero, and his stay implore ; 
 Make it their public suit he would no more 
 Desert them so, and for his Spouse's sake, 
 His vanish'd love, tempt the Letlman Lake. 
 The Ladies too, the brightest of that time. 
 Ambitious all his lofty bed to climb, 
 Their doubtful hopes with expectation feed, 
 Which shall the fair Euridice succeed ; 
 Euridice / for whom his numerous moan 
 Makes list'ning Trees and savage Mountains groan. 
 Through all the air his sounding strings dilate 
 Sorrow, like that which touch'd our hearts of late ; 
 Your pining sickness, and your restless pain. 
 At once the Land affecting, and the Main. 
 Jan. 28, ifii§.]When the glad news that you were Admiral 
 
 Scarce thi'ough the Nation spread, 'twas fear'd by all 
 That our great Charles, whose wisdom shines in you, 
 Should be perplexed how to choose a new : 
 So more than private was the joy and grief, 
 That, at the worst, it gave our souls relief, ^ 
 
 That in our Age such sense of virtue lived : 
 They joy'd so justly, and so justly grieved. 
 
 Nature, her fairest light eclipsed, seems 
 
 Herself to suffer in these sad extremes ; 
 
 While not from thine alone thy blood retires, 
 Manj vmursn But from those cheeks which all the world admires. 
 Countess £(<. J rj^YiQ stem thus threat'ned, and the sap, in thee. 
 
 Droop all the branches of that noble Tree ; 
 
 Their beauties they, and we our love, siispend ; 
 
 Nought can our wishes save thy health intend :
 
 THOMAS GAREW. 101 
 
 As lilies over-charged with rain, they bend 
 
 Their beauteous heads, and with high heaven contend ; 
 
 Fold thee within their snowy arms, and cry, 
 
 ' He is too faultless and too young to die ! ' 
 
 So, like Immortals round about thee, they 
 
 Sit, that they fi'ight approaching Death away. 
 
 Who would not languish, by so fair a train 
 To be lamented and restored again ? 
 Or thus with-held, what hasty soul would go. 
 Though to the Blest ? O'er young Adonis so 
 Fair Venus mourn'd, and with the precious shower 
 Of her warm tears cherish'd the springing flower. 
 The next support, fair hope of your great name, rff. p. no. 
 
 And second Pillar of that noble frame, '" oi>u>. 
 
 By loss of thee would no advantage have, 
 
 But, step by step, pursues thee to thy grave. 
 
 And now relentless Fate, about to end 
 
 The line, which backward doth so far extend, 
 
 That Antique stock, which still the world supplies [ vaUers. 
 
 With bravest spirit and with brightest eyes. 
 
 Kind Phccbus interposing, bade me say — • 
 
 ' Such storms no more shall shake that house ; but they 
 
 Like Neptune and his sea-born niece, shall be 
 
 The shining glories of the Land and Sea : 
 
 With courage guard, and beauty warm our Age, 
 
 And lovers fill with like Poetic rage.' [Qxi. by Waller ? 
 
 The Retired Blood exhorted to Return, 
 
 IN the Cheeks of the Pale Sisters, Mistress 
 
 Katherine and Mistress Mart Neville. 
 
 Q TAY, coward blood, and do not yield 
 O To thy pale sister beauty's field, 
 Who, there displaying all her white 
 Ensigns, hath usurp'd thy right ;
 
 102 THE POEMS OF 
 
 Invading tliy peculiar throne, 
 
 The lip, where thou should'st rule alone ; 
 
 And on the cheek, where Nature's care 
 
 Allotted each an equal share, 
 
 The spreading Lily only grows. 
 Whose milky deluge drowns thy Rose. 
 
 Quit not the field, faint blood, nor rush 
 
 In the short sally of a blush 
 
 Upon thy sister foe, but strive 
 
 To keep an endless war alive : 
 
 Though peace do petty states maintain, 
 Here war alone makes Beauty reign. 
 
 Upon a Mole in Celia's Bosom. 
 
 THAT lovely spot, wliich thou dost see 
 In Celia's bosom, was a Bee 
 Who biiilt her amorous sj)icy nest 
 In th' Hyhlas of her either breast. 
 
 But from those ivory hives she flew 
 To suck the aromatic dew. 
 Which from the neighbour vale distils. 
 Which j)arts those two twin-sister hills. 
 
 There feasting on ambrosial meat, 
 A rolling file of bahny sweet 
 (As in soft murmurs before death 
 Swan-like she sung), choked up her breath : 
 So she in water did expire, 
 More precious than the Phoenix fire. 
 
 Yet still her shadow there remains, 
 
 Confined to those Elysian plains, 
 
 With this strict law, that who shall lay 
 
 His bold lips on that milky way. 
 
 The sweet and smart from thence shall bring 
 Of the bee's honey and her sting.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 103 
 
 Methodus Amandi. 
 ' Written by Mr. T. C, of his Majesty's Bed-Chamhcr.^ 
 
 A DIALOGUE. 
 
 TELL me, Lucretia, — since my fate, {' Eutresia. 
 
 And thy more po\\'ei'ful form, decrees 
 My lieart an Immolation at tliy Slirine, 
 Where it is ever to incline, — 
 How I must love, and at what rate ; 
 
 And by what steps, and what degrees, 
 I shall my hopes enlarge, or my desires confine. 
 
 [SUE REPLIES.] 
 
 First, when thy flames begin, 
 
 See they burn all within ; 
 And so, as lookers-on may not descry 
 Smoke in a sigh, or sparkle in an eye. 
 
 I'd have thy love a good while there, 
 
 Ere thine own lieart should be aware : 
 And I my self would choose to know it. 
 First by thy care and cunning not to show it. 
 
 II. 
 
 [IJE PLEADS.] 
 
 When my flame, thine own way, is thus 1:ietray'd, 
 
 Must it be still afraid ? 
 May it not be sharp-sighted too, as well, 
 And know thou know'st, that which it dares not tell 1 
 
 And, by that knowledge, find it may 
 
 Tell itself o'er, a louder way ?
 
 104 THE POEMS OF 
 
 [HER TRUCE.] 
 
 Let me alone, a wliile ! 
 
 For so thou mayest beguile 
 
 My heart to a consent, 
 
 Long ere it meant. 
 For wliile I dare not disapprove. 
 Lest that betray a knowledge of thy love, 
 
 I shall be so accustom'd to allow. 
 
 That I shall not know how 
 To be displeased, when thou shalt it avow. 
 
 III. 
 
 [HE ARGUES.] 
 
 Wlien by Love's powerful secret sympathy 
 
 Our Souls are got thus nigh. 
 
 And that, by one another seen, 
 
 There needs no breath to go between ; 
 Though in the main agreement of our breasts, 
 
 Our Hearts subscribe as Interests, 
 Will it not need 
 The Tongues sign too, as Witness to the deed 1 
 
 [SUE YIELDS.] 
 
 Speak, then I but Avhen you whisper out the tale. 
 Of what you ail, 
 Let it be so disorder'd that I may 
 Guess only thence what you would say : 
 Then to be able to speak sense 
 Were an offence : 
 And 'twill thy passion tell the subtlest way. 
 Not to know what to say ! 
 
 T. C. 
 
 [IVote. — There is some douht as to the authorship of this 
 'Dialogue,' equally with song (viclr p. 92), 'On his IMistress 
 Going to Sea,' bt-giuniiig, 'Farewell, fair Saint, may not the 
 seas and wind,' to which Henry Lawes composed the music.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 105 
 
 Henry Lawes i^rinted it, with the words, in his Ayrcs and 
 Dialogues, Book I. p. lo, 1653 (mentioning, in the Table of 
 Contents, tliat the song had been ' written by Mr. Thomas 
 Carii, son to the Earl of Monmouth'). This ' Mcthodus 
 AmancW is given, with a Latin version by Sir Richard 
 Fanshawe, among his own ' Bliscellaneous Poems,' at the end 
 of his translation of Guarini's ' FaMor Fido,' 1648. The 
 present lines are there described as ' Written hy Mr. T. C, 
 of his Majesty's Bed-Chamber.' Fanshawe's Latin version, 
 ''Ex Lingua Anglicand,' begins thus :— 
 
 ' Die, quonian Fatumque meum, tuaque optima Forma, 
 Fato omni major, cor hoc iibi destinat olim,' etc. 
 
 George Ellis (in his admirable ' Specimens of the Early English 
 Poets,' 1801, vol. iii. 144-146) reprints this English 'Dialogne,' 
 without hesitation, amongst the poems written by Thomas 
 Carew, giving entire (from Malone Coll., MS. 13, formerly 
 at the Bodleian Library,) the version beginning, 'Tell me, 
 Utrechia,' i.e. ^ Eutrechia : ' Fanshawe's reads ^ E atresia,' but 
 the Index rectifies the typographical l)lunder, if a blunder it 
 were, by reading ^ Liicretia,' which we follow. 
 
 It is scarcely probable that Henry Lawes could be mis- 
 informed concerning the authorship of the song, ' Farewell, 
 dear Saint,' but he certainly makes a distinct difference in 
 his mention of our ' Thomas Carew, Gentleman of the Privy 
 Chamber:' rightly attributing to him, in the same Table, six 
 other songs, to which Lawes had composed music, viz., 'Give 
 me more love' (p. 10); 'He that loves a rosy cheek' (p. 16) ; 
 'If when the Sun at noon displays his brighter rays ' (p. 5); 
 'When on the altar of my hand' (p. 37) ; 'When thou, poor 
 Excommunicate' (p. 13); and the Dialogue, 'When Cdia 
 rested in the shade' (p. 39). He gives 'Ask me why I send 
 you here' (The Primrose, p. 73) to Herrick. In his Second 
 Book of Ayrcs, 1655, Lawes gives as Thomas Carew's three 
 others, ' Know, Celia, since thou art so proud ' (p. 15) ; ' Weep 
 not,' (p. 44); and 'Fear not, dear Love, that I'll reveal' 
 (p. 9). Of the other song (p. 92), Fanshawe's Latin version 
 begins — 
 
 ' O Diva, O Formosa vale ; 
 Non ventus, et ^Equor,' etc.
 
 Obsequies. 
 
 To THE Lady Anne Hat. 
 
 [DAUGHTER OF HONORA, LADY HAY, 
 
 THE FIRST WIFE OF JAMES, LORD HAY, OF SAWLEY, 
 
 WHO, IN SEPT. 1622, BECAME THE EARL OF CARLISLE.'] 
 
 I 
 
 HEARD the Virgins sigh, I saw the sleek 
 And polish'd Courtier channel his fresh cheek 
 With real tears ; the new-betrothed Maid 
 Smiled not that day ; the graver Senate laid 
 Their business by : of all the Courtly throng 
 Grief seal'd the heart, and silence bound the tongue. 
 I, that ne'er more of private sorrow knew 
 Tlian from my jjen some froward Mistress drew, 
 And for the public woe had my dull sense 
 So sear'd with ever-adverse influence. 
 As the invader's sword might have unfelt 
 Pierced my dead bosom, yet began to melt : 
 Grief's strong instinct did to my blood suggest 
 In the unknown loss peculiar interest. 
 But when I heard the noble Carlisle's gem, 
 Mic. Lord D.,-|The fairest branch of Dennye's ancient stem, 
 lier gi-audsire. J ^yan from that casket stol'n, from this trunk torn, 
 
 I found just cause why they — why! — should mourn. 
 
 But who shall guide my artless pen, to draw 
 
 Those blooming beauties, which I never saw ? 
 
 How shall posterity believe my story. 
 
 If I her crowded graces, and the glory 
 
 Due to her riper virtues, shall relate 
 
 Without the knowledge of her mortal state ? 
 
 106
 
 POEMS OF THOMAS CAREW. 107 
 
 Sliall I (as once Apelles), here a feature, 
 
 There a grace steal, and rilling so whole Nature 
 
 Of all the sweets a learned eye can see, 
 
 Figure one Veyms, and say, ' Such was she ? ' 
 
 Shall I her Legend fill, with what of old 
 
 Hath of the Worthies of her Sex been told ; 
 
 And what all pens and times to lis dispense. 
 
 Re-strain to her, by a prophetic sense ? 
 
 Or shall I to the moral and divine 
 
 Exactest laws shape, by an even line, 
 
 A life so straight, as it should shame the square 
 
 Left in the rules of Catherine or Glare, rS. Cath. or 
 
 And call it hers ? say, ' So did she begin, '^""' 
 
 And, had she lived, such had her progress been.' 
 
 These are dull ways, by which base pens for hire 
 
 Daub glorious Vice, and from Apollo's choir 
 
 Steal holy ditties, which profanely they 
 
 Upon the hearse of every strumpet lay. 
 
 We will not bathe thy corpse with a forced tear, 
 Nor shall thy train borrow the blacks they wear ; 
 Such vulgar spice and gums embalm not thee : 
 Thou art the tlieme of Truth, not Poetry. • 
 Tliou shalt endure a trial liy thy peers : 
 Viigins of equal birth, of equal years. 
 
 Whose virtues held with thine an emulous strife. 
 
 Shall draw thy picture, and record thy life. 
 
 One shall ensphere thine eyes ; another shall 
 Impearl thy teeth ; a third, thy white and small 
 Hand shall be-snow ; a fourth, incarnadine s 
 
 Thy rosy cheek : until each beauteous line. 
 Drawn by her hand in whom that part excells. 
 Meets in one centre, where all Beauty dwells. 
 
 Others, in task, shall thy choice virtues share, 
 Some shall their birth, some their ripe growth declare. 
 Though niggard Time left much unhatch'd by deeds. 
 They shall relate how thou had'st all the seeds
 
 108 THE POEMS OF 
 
 Of every "\'irtue, which, in the pursuit 
 
 Of time, must have brouglit fortli admired fruit. 
 
 Kivalry.] Thus shalt thou from the mouth of Envy raise 
 A glorious Journal of thy thrifty days : 
 Like a bright star shot from his sphere, whose race 
 In a continued line of flames we trace. 
 This, if survey'd, shall to the view impart 
 How, little more than late, thou wert, thou art. 
 This shall gain credit with succeeding times, 
 Wlien, nor by bribed pens, nor partial rhymes 
 Of engaged kindred, but the sacred truth 
 Is storied by the partners of i\\y youth : 
 
 Their breath shall Saint thee, and be this thy pride, 
 
 Thus even by Rivals to be deified. 
 
 — ess^f^— 
 
 to the couxtess of anglesey. 
 
 Upon the Death of her Husband, 
 
 [Christopher Vjlliers, obut 1630,] 
 
 BY HER IMMODERATELY LAMENTED. 
 
 MADAM, men say, you keep with dropping eyes 
 Your sorrows fresh, watering the rose, that lies 
 Fall'n from your cheeks, upon your dear Lord's hearse. 
 Alas ! those odours now no more can pierce 
 His cold pale nostril, nor the crimson dye 
 Present a graceful blush to his dark eye. 
 Think you that flood of pearly moisture hath 
 The virtue fabled of old ^son's bath ? 
 You may your beauties and your youth consume 
 Over his Urn, and with your sighs perfume 
 The solitary A-'ault, which, as you groan, 
 In hollow echoes shall repeat your moan ; 
 
 There you may wither, and an Autumn bring 
 Upon your self, but not call back his Spring.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 109 
 
 Forbear your fruitless grief, then, and let those 
 Whose love was doubted, gain belief with shows 
 To their suspected faith. You, whose whole life 
 In every act crowned you a constant Wife, 
 May spare the practice of that vulgar trade, 
 Which superstitious custom only made. 
 Rather, a Widow now, of wisdom prove 
 The pattern ; as, a Wife, you were of love. 
 Yet since you surfeit on your Grief, 'tis fit 
 I tell the world upon what cates you sit 
 
 Glutting your sorrows ; and at once include 
 His story, your excuse, my gratitude. 
 
 You, that behold how yond' sad Lady blends 
 Those ashes with her tears, lest, as she sjiends 
 Her tributary sighs, the frequent gust 
 Might scatter up and down the noble dust — 
 Know, when that heap of atoms was with blood 
 Kneaded to solid flesh, and firmly stood 
 On stately jjillars, the rare form might move 
 The froward Juno's or chaste Cinthia's love. 
 In motion, active grace ; in rest, a calm 
 Attractive sweetness : brought both wound and balm 
 To every heart. He was composed of all 
 The wishes of ripe Virgins, when they call 
 
 For Hymen's rites, and in their fancies wed 
 A shape of studied beauties to their bed. 
 
 Within this curious palace dwelt a soul 
 Gave lustre to each part, and to the whole : 
 This dress'd his face in courteous smiles, and so 
 From comely gestures sweeter manners ilow ; 
 This, courage join'd to strengtli ; so the hand bent 
 Was Valour's : open'd, Bounty's instrument : 
 Which did the scale and sword of Justice hold : 
 Knew how to brandish steel and scatter gold. 
 This taught him, not to engage his modest tongue 
 In suits of private gain, though public wrong ;
 
 no THE POEMS OF 
 
 Nor misemploy {as is the Great Man's use,) 
 His credit with liis Master to traduce, 
 Dejjrave, malign, and ruin Innocence, 
 In proud revenge of some mis-judged offence : 
 But all his actions had the noble end 
 To advance desert, or grace some worthy friend. 
 
 He chose not in the active stream to swim. 
 Nor hunted Honour, which yet hunted him ; 
 But like a quiet eddy, that hath found 
 Some hollow creek, there turns his waters round, 
 And in continual circles dances free 
 From the impetuous Torrent ; so did he 
 Give others leave to turn the wheel of State, 
 (Whose restless motion spins the subject's fate,) 
 Whilst he, retired from the tumultuous noise 
 Of Court, and suitors' press, ajiart enjoys 
 Freedom and mirth, himself, his time, and friends. 
 And with sweet relish tastes each hour he spends. 
 
 I could remember how his noble heart 
 First kindled at your beauties ; with what art 
 He chased his game through all opposing fears, 
 Wlien I his sighs to you, and back your tears 
 Convey'd to him ; how loyal then, and how 
 Constant he proved since, to his marriage- vow ; 
 So as his wand'ring eyes never drew in 
 One lustful thought to temiDt his soul to sin : 
 But that I fear such mention ratlier may 
 Kindle new grief, than IjIow the old away. 
 
 cf. pp. 54, loo.] Then let him rest, join'd to great Buckingham, 
 And with his Brother's mingle his bright flame. 
 Look up, and meet their beams, and you from thence 
 May chance derive a cheerful influence. 
 Seek him no more in dust, but call again 
 Your scatter'd beauties home ; and so the pen, 
 Wliich now I take from this sad Elegy, 
 Shall sing the Trophies of your conc^uering eye.
 
 THOMAS GAREW. Ill 
 
 An Elegy upon the Death op Dk. Donne, 
 Dean op S. Pauvs. [1631.] 
 
 CAN we not force from \vidow'd Poetry, 
 Now tlion art dead, great Donne, one Elegy, 
 To cro^v^l thy Hearse ? Why yet did we not trust, 
 Though with unkneaded dough-baked prose, thy dust ; 
 Such as the unsizar'd Lecturer, from the flower 
 Of fading Rhetoric, short-lived as his hour. 
 Dry as the sand that measures it, might lay 
 Upon the ashes on the funeral day ? 
 
 Have we nor tune nor voice ? Did'st thou dispence [= exhaust. 
 Through all our language l)oth the words and sense ? 
 'Tis a sad truth. The pulpit may her plain 
 And sober Christian precepts still retain ; 
 Doctrines it may, and wholesome Uses, frame, 
 Grave Homilies and Lectures ; but the flame 
 Of thy brave soul— that shot such heat and light. 
 As burn'd our earth, and made our darkness bright, 
 (Committed holy rapes upon the will ; 
 Did through the eye the melting heart distil : 
 And the deep knowledge of dark truths so teach, 
 As sense might judge, where fancy could not reach,) 
 Must be desired for ever. So the fire, 
 That fills with spirit and heat the Delphic choir. 
 Which — kindled first by thy Promethean breath, 
 Glow'd here awhile — lies quench'd now in thy cleath. 
 
 The Muses' Garden, with pedantic weeds 
 O'erspread, was purged by thee ; the lazy seeds 
 Of servile Imitation thrown away. 
 And fresh invention planted ; thou did'st pay 
 The debts of our jienurious bankrupt Age : 
 Licentious thefts, that make poetic rage 
 A mimic fury, when our souls must be 
 Possess'd — or with Anacreon's ecstasy, 
 Or Pindar's, not their own ; the subtle cheat 
 Of sly exchanges, and the .juggling feat
 
 112 THE POEMS OF 
 
 Of two-edged words, or whatsoever wrong 
 By ours was done tlie Greek or Latin tongue, 
 Thou hast redeem'd, and open'd as a mine 
 Of rich and pregnant fancy ; drawn a line 
 Of masculine expression : which, had good 
 Old Orpheus seen, or all the ancient brood 
 Our superstitious fools admire, and hold 
 Their lead more precious than thy burnish'd gold, 
 Thou had'st been their Exchequer, and no more 
 qti. dross ?] They each in other's dross had search'd for ore. 
 
 Thou shalt yield no precedence, but of Time ; 
 And the blind fate of Language, whose tuned chime 
 More charms the outward sense : yet thou may'st claim 
 From so great disadvantage greater fame, 
 Since to the awe of thy imperious wit 
 Our troublesome language bends, made only fit 
 With her tough thick-ribb'd hoops to gird about 
 Thy giant Fancy, which had proved too stout 
 For their soft melting phrases. As in time 
 They had the start, so did they cull the prime 
 Buds of invention many a hundred year, 
 And left the rifled fields, besides the fear 
 To touch their harvest : yet from those bare lands, 
 Of what was only thine, thy only hands 
 
 (And that their smallest work,) have gleaned more 
 Than all those times and tongues could reap before. 
 
 But thou art gone, and thy strict laws will be 
 Too hard for Libertines in Poetry. 
 They will recall the goodly exiled train 
 Of Gods and Goddesses, which in thy just reign 
 Was banish'd nobler poems ; now with these. 
 The silenced tales i' th' Metamorphoses, 
 Shall stuff their lines, and swell the windy page : 
 Till verse, refined by thee in this last Age, 
 
 Turn Ballad-rhyme, or those old idols be 
 
 Adored again with new apostacy.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 113 
 
 pardon me, that break with untuned verse 
 The reverend silence that attends thy Hearse : 
 "Whose solemn awful murmurs were to thee, 
 More than these rude lines, a loud Elegy, 
 That did proclaim in a dumb eloquence 
 
 The death of all the Arts : whose influence, 
 Grown feeble, in these jianting numbers lies. 
 Gasping short-winded accents, and so dies. 
 
 So doth the swiftly-turning wheel not stand 
 In th' instant we withdraw the moving hand ; 
 But some short time retain a faint weak course. 
 By virtue of the first impulsive force : 
 And so, whilst I cast on thy funeral pile 
 Thy Crown of Bays, let it crack awhile, 
 
 And spit disdain, till the devouring flashes 
 Suck all the moisture uj?, then turn to ashes. 
 
 1 will not draw thee envy, to engross 
 All thy perfections, or weep all the loss ; 
 Those are too numerous for one Elegy, 
 And this too great to be express'd by me. 
 Let others carve the rest ; it shall suffice 
 I on thy grave this Epitaph incize : — 
 
 ^Here lies a King that ruled, as he thoiujld Jit, 
 The Universal Monarchy of ivit ; 
 Here lie two Flamens, and hath these the best : 
 Apollo's ^rsi, at last the true God's Priest.' 
 
 H
 
 114 THE POEMS OF 
 
 In answer to an Elkgiacal Letter, 
 
 (FROM AURELIAN TOWNSEND,) 
 
 Upon the Death of the King of Sweden [1632]: 
 
 INVITING ME TO WRITE ON THAT SUBJECT. 
 
 WHY dost tlioii sound, my dear Anrelian, 
 In so shrill accents from tliy Barbican 
 A loud alarum to my drowsy eyes, 
 Bidding tliem w^ake in tears and elegies 
 Oustavus -[ For miglity Sweden^ s fall ? Alas ! how may 
 Aiiolphus.A j^jy lyj^.^^. feet— that of the smooth soft way 
 
 Of Love and Beauty only know the tread — 
 In dancing paces celebrate the dead 
 Victorious King, or his majestic Hearse 
 Profane with th' humble touch of their low verse ? 
 Virgil, nor Lucan, no, nor Tasso — more 
 Cf. p. iiT.] Than both ; not Donne, worth all that went before — 
 With the united labour of their wit, 
 Could a just poem to this subject tit. 
 His actions were too mighty to be raised 
 Higher by verse : let him in prose be praised, 
 In modest faithful story, "vvhich his deeds 
 Shall turn to Poems. When the next Age reads 
 Of Franlcfort, Leipzicj, IFurzhurg, of the Rhine, 
 The Leclt, the Danube, Tilly, TVallenstein, 
 Bavaria, Paj^penheim, or Lutzen-field, where he 
 Gain'd after death a posthume victory, 
 They'll think his acts things rather feign'd than done, 
 Like our romances of ' The Knight o' th' Sun.' 
 Leave we him, then, to the grave Chronicler, 
 Who, though to Annals he can not refer 
 His too-brief story, yet his Journals may 
 Stand by the Ccesar's years ; and, every day 
 Cut into minutes, each shall more contain 
 Of great designments than an Emjieror's reign. 
 And, since 'twas but his church-yard, let him have 
 For his own ashes now no narrower grave
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 115 
 
 Than tlic whole German continent's vast womb, 
 Whilst all her cities do but make his tomb. 
 
 Let us to supreme Providence commit 
 The fate of Monarchs, which, first thought it fit 
 To rend the Empire from the A ustrian grasp ; \_Ferdin. n. 
 
 And next from Siveden's, even when he did clasp 
 Within his dying arms the sovereignty 
 Of all those provinces, that men might see 
 Tlie Divine wisdom would not leave that land 
 Subject to any one King's sole command. 
 
 Then let the Germans fear, if Ccesar shall, 
 
 Or the United Princes, rise and fall. 
 
 But let us, that in myrtle bowers sit 
 Under secure shades, use the benefit 
 Of peace and plenty, which the blessed hand 
 Of our good King gives this obdurate land ; [Charles i. 
 
 Let us of Revels sing, and let thy breath, 
 (Which, filled Fame's trumpet, with Gustavm' death, 
 Blowing his name to heaven), gently inspire 
 Thy Pastoral Pipe, till all our swains admire 
 Thy song and subject, whilst thou dost comprise 
 The beauties of the Shepherd's Paradise. [ n\ ^i/.v. 
 
 For who like thee, whose loose discourse is far 
 More neat and polish'd than our Poems are — • 
 Whose very gait's more graceful than our dance — 
 In sweetly-flowing numbers may advance 
 That glorious night when, not to act foul rapes 
 Like birds or beasts, but in their Angel shapes, 
 A troop of Deities came down to guide 
 Oiir steerless barks in Passion's swelling tide 
 By Virtue's ' Card,' and brought us from above 
 A pattern of their own Celestial Love. 
 
 Nor lay it in dark sullen precepts drown'd. 
 But with rich fancy and clear action crown'd. 
 Through a mysterious Fable — that was drawn, 
 Like a transparent veil of purest lawn. 
 
 Before their dazzling beauties — the divine 
 Venus did with her heavenly Cupid shine.
 
 116 POEMS OF THOMAS GAREW. 
 
 The story's curious web, the masculine style, 
 The subtle sense, did Time and Sleep beguile ; 
 Pinion'd and charm'd they stood to gaze upon 
 Th' angelic forms, gestures and motion ; 
 To hear those ravishing sounds, that did dispense 
 Knowledge and pleasure to the soul and sense. 
 It fill'd us with amazement to behold 
 Love made all spirit ; his corporeal mould 
 Dissected into atoms, melt away 
 To empty air, and from the gross allay 
 Of mixtures and compounding accidents 
 Refined to immaterial elements. 
 But when the Queen of Beauty did inspire 
 The air with perfumes, and our hearts with fire. 
 Breathing from her celestial organ sweet 
 Harmonious notes, our souls fell at her feet. 
 And did with humble reverend duty more 
 Her rare perfections than high state adore. 
 
 These harmless pastimes let my Townsertd sing 
 To rural tunes ; not that thy Muse wants wing 
 To soar a loftier pitch, for she hath made 
 A noble flight, and placed th' Heroic shade 
 Above the reach of our faint flagging rhyme ; 
 But these are subjects proper to our clime. 
 Tourneys, Masques, Theatres, better become 
 Our Halcyon days : What though the German drum 
 Bellow for freedom and revenge, the noise 
 Concerns not us, nor should divert our joys ; 
 Nor ought the thunder of their carabines 
 Drown the sweet airs of our tuned violins. 
 Believe me, friend, if their prevailing powers 
 Gain them a calm security like ours, 
 
 They'll hang their arms upon the Olive bough, 
 And dance and revel then, as we do now. 
 
 -esA'^a-
 
 COMMENDATORY VERSES. 
 
 To MY Worthy Friend Master GEomn Sandys, 
 ON HIS Translation of the Psalms. 
 
 [.638.] 
 
 I PRESS not to the Clioir, nor dare I greet 
 The holy Place with my unhallow'd feet ; 
 My unwash'd Muse pollutes not things divine, 
 Nor mingles her profaner notes with thine ; 
 Here list'ning humbly at the Porch she stays, 
 And with glad ears sucks in thy Sacred Lays. 
 
 So devout Penitents of old were wont 
 Some without door, and some beneath the Font, 
 To stand and hear the Church's Liturgies, 
 Yet not assist the Solemn Exercise. 
 
 Sufficeth her, that she a Lay-place gain. 
 To trim thy vestments, or but bear thy train ; 
 Though nor in tune nor wing she reach thy Lark, 
 Her lyric feet may dance before the Ark. 
 
 Who knows, but that her wand'ring eyes, that run 
 Now hunting Glow-worms, may adore the Sun ; 
 A pure flame may, shot by Almighty Power 
 Into my breast, the earthy flame devour ? 
 My eyes in penitential dew may steep 
 That brine, which they for sensual love did weep. 
 
 So, tho' 'gainst Nature's course, fire may be quench'd 
 
 With fire, and water be with water drench'd, 
 
 117
 
 118 THE POEMS OF 
 
 Perhaps my restless Soul, tired witli pursuit 
 Of mortal loeauty, seeking without fruit 
 Contentment there — which hath not, when enjoy'd, 
 Quench'd all her thirst, nor satisfied, though cloy'd : 
 Weary of her vain search below, above 
 In the first Fair may find th' immortal Love. 
 
 Prompted by thy example then, no more 
 
 In moulds of clay will I my God adore ; 
 
 But tear those Idols from my heart, and write 
 
 What his blest Spirit, not fond Love, shall indite. 
 
 Then I no more shall court the verdant Bay, 
 
 But the dry leafless trunk on Golgotha : 
 
 And rather strive to gain from thence one Thorn, 
 Than all the flourishing Wreaths hy Laureats worn. 
 
 To MY MUCH HONOURED FkIEND, EenSY, LoRD GaREY. 
 
 OP Leppixgton: on his Translation of MAirEzzi. 
 
 [ROMULUS AND TARQUIN, 1638.] 
 
 M 
 
 Y Lord. In every trivial work, 'tis known, 
 Translators must be masters of their own 
 And of their Author's language ; but your task 
 A greater latitude of skill did ask ; 
 For your Malvezzi first required a man 
 To teach him speak vulgar Italian. 
 His matter's so sublime, so now his phrase 
 So far above the style of Bemhd's days, 
 rErcolam.] Old Varchi's rules, or what the Crusca yet 
 For current Tuscan mintage will admit : 
 As I believe your Marcjuess, by a good 
 Part of his natives, hardly understood. 
 
 You must expect no happier fate ; 'tis true, 
 He is of noble birth ; of nobler you : 
 So nor your thoughts nor words fit common ears : 
 He writes, and you translate, both to your Peers.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 119 
 
 To MY Honoured Friend, Master Thomas May : 
 
 UPON HIS COMEDY ' THE HEIR.' [1633.] 
 
 ' nnHE HEIR' being born, was in his tender age 
 
 -L Rock'd in the Cradle of a Private Stage ; 
 Where, lifted up by many a willing hand, 
 The Child did from the first day fairly stand ; 
 Since, having gather'd strength, he dares jn-efer 
 His steps into the public Theatre, 
 The World : where he despairs not but to find 
 A doom from men more able, not less kind. 
 
 I but his Usher am, yet if my word 
 May pass, I dare be bound he will afford 
 Things must deserve a welcome, if well known. 
 Such as best writers would have wish'd their own. 
 
 You shall observe his words in order meet, 
 And softly stealing on with equal feet. 
 Slide into even numbers with such grace 
 As each word had been moulded for that place. 
 
 You shall jierceive an amorous passion spun 
 Into so smooth a web, as, had the Sun 
 When he pursued the swiftly flying Maid, [Daphne. 
 
 Courted her in such language, she liad stay'd. 
 
 A love so well express'cl must be the same 
 
 The Author felt himself from his fair flame. 
 
 The whole Plot doth alike itself disclose 
 Through the five Acts, as doth the Lock that goes 
 With letters : for, till every one be known. 
 The Lock's as fast as if you had found none : 
 
 And where his sportive Muse doth draw a thread 
 Of mirth, chaste Matrons may not blush to read. 
 
 Thus have I thought it fitter to reveal 
 My want of art, dear Friend, than to conceal 
 My love. It did appear I did not mean 
 So to commend thy well wrought Comic Scene,
 
 120 THE POEMS OF 
 
 As men might judge my aim rather to be 
 To gain praise to my self, than give it thee : 
 
 Though I can give thee none but what thou hast 
 Deserv'd, and what must my faint breath out-last. 
 
 Yet was this garment (though I skill-less be 
 To take thy measure), only made for thee ; 
 
 And if it prove too scant, 'tis 'cause the stuff 
 Nature allow'd me is not large enough. 
 
 To MY Worthy Friend, Master UAvenant, 
 
 UPON HIS EXCELLENT PLAY, ' THE JUST ITALIAN.' [1630.] 
 
 I'LL not mis-spend in praise the narrow room 
 I borrow in this lease ; the Garlands bloom 
 From thine own seeds, that crown each glorious page 
 Of thy triumphant works ; the sullen Age 
 Eequires a Satire. What star guides the soul 
 Of these our froward times, that dare controul, 
 Yet dare not learn to judge ? When did'st thou fly 
 From hence, clear candid Ingenuity ? 
 
 I have beheld when, perch'd on the smooth brow 
 Of a fair modest troop, thou did'st allow 
 Applause to slighter works ; but then the weak 
 Spectator gave the knowing leave to speak. 
 
 Now noise prevails, and he is tax'd for drouth 
 Of wit, that with ' the cry' spends not his mouth. 
 Yet ask him reason why he did not like ? — 
 Him, why he did ? their ignorance will strike 
 Thy soul with scorn and pity. IMark the places 
 Provoke their smiles, frowns, or distorted faces ; 
 "Wlien they admire, nod, shake the head : — they^ll be 
 A scene of mirth, a double comedy. 
 But thy strong fancies (raptures of the brain, 
 Dress'd in poetic flames,) they entertain 
 
 As a bold impious reach ; for thej^U still slight 
 All that exceeds Red-Bull and Cock-pit flight.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 121 
 
 These are the men in crowded heap that tlirong 
 To that adulterate Stage, where not a tongue 
 Of th' untuned Kennel can a line repeat 
 Of serious sense ; but like-lips meet like-meat : 
 AVhilst the true brood of Actors, that alone 
 Keep natural unstrain'd action in her throne, 
 Behold their benches l)are, though they rehearse 
 The terser Beaumont^s or great Jonson's verse. 
 
 Repine not thou, then, since this churlish fate 
 Rules not the Stage alone ; perhaps the State 
 Hath felt this rancour, where men great and good 
 Have by the Rablale been misunderstood. 
 
 So was thy Play, whose clear yet lofty strain 
 Wise men, that govern Fate, shall entertain. 
 
 To THE Reader of Master Williasi Davenant's 
 
 FLAY. ['THE WITS, A COMEDY.' 1636.] 
 
 IT hath been said of old, that Plays be Feasts, 
 Poets the cooks, and the Spectators guests ; 
 
 The Actors, waiters. From this simile 
 
 Some have derived an unsafe liberty, 
 
 To use their judgments as their tastes, which choose 
 
 Without controul this dish, and that refuse. 
 
 But Wit allows not this large privilege : 
 
 Either you must confess, or feel its edge. 
 
 Nor shall you malve a current inference, 
 
 If you transfer your reason to your sense : 
 
 Things are distinct, and must the same appear 
 To every piercing eye or well-tuned ear. 
 
 Tho' sweets with yours, sharps best with my taste meet ; 
 
 Both must agree this meat's or sharp or sweet : 
 
 But if I scent a stench or a perfume, 
 
 Whilst you smell nought at all, I may presume 
 
 You have that sense imperfect : So you may 
 
 Affect a sad, merry, or humourous Play ;
 
 122 THE POEMS OF 
 
 If, though the kind distaste or please, the Good 
 And Bad be by your judgment understood. 
 But if, as in this Play, where with delight 
 I feast my Epicurean apj)etite, 
 AVith relishes so curious, as dispense 
 The utmost pleasure to the ravish'd sense, 
 You shoukl profess that you can nothing meet 
 That hits your taste eitlier with sharp or sweet, 
 But cry out, ' 'Tis insipid ! ' your bold tongue 
 May do its Master, not the Author, wrong. 
 For men of better palate wiU by it 
 Take the just elevation of your Wit. 
 
 To Will. Davenant, my Friend. 
 
 Cf.Notex.] [ON HIS POEM OF 'MADAGASCAR: 1636.] 
 
 WHEN I behold, by warrant from thy pen, 
 A Prince rigging our fleets, arming our men, 
 Conducting to remotest shores our force, 
 Without a Dido to retard his course ; 
 And thence repelling in successful fight 
 Th' usurping Foe, whose strength was all his right, 
 By two brave Heroes (whom we justly may 
 By Homer's Ajax or Achilles lay) : 
 I doubt the author of the ' Tale of Troyj' 
 Virgil.] With him that makes his Fugitive enjoy 
 
 The Carthage Queen ; and think thy Poem may 
 Impose upon posterity, as they 
 Have done on us. What though Eomances lie 
 Thus blended with more faithful History ; 
 We of th' adulterate mixture not complain. 
 But thence more Characters of Virtue gain ; 
 ]\Iore pregnant Patterns of transcendent worth, 
 Than barren and insipid Truth brings forth : 
 So oft the Bastard nobler fortune meets 
 Than the dull Issue nf the lawful sheets.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 123 
 
 Upon Master W[alter'\ Montague, 
 HIS Eeturn from Travel. 
 
 LEAD the lilaclv bull to slaugliter, with the hoar 
 w And lamb ; then 'purple with their mingled gore 
 The Ocean's curled brow, that so we may 
 The Sea-Gods for their careful waftage pay : 
 Send grateful incense up in pious smoke 
 To those mild Spirits, that cast a curbing yoke 
 Upon the stubborn winds, that calmly Ijlew 
 To the wish'd shore our long'd-for Mountagm. 
 Then, whilst the aromatic odours burn 
 In honour of their darling's safe return, 
 
 The Muses' Choir shall thus with voice and hand 
 Bless the fair gale that drove his ship to land : — 
 
 Sweetly lireathing Vernal air. 
 That with kind warmth do'st repair 
 Winter's ruins ; from whose breast 
 All the gums and spice of th' East 
 Borrow their j^erfumes ; whose eye 
 Gilds the morn and clears the sky ; 
 Wlaose dishevell'd tresses shed 
 Pearls upon the violet bed ; 
 On whose brow, with calm smiles dress'd. 
 The Halcyon sits and builds her nest : 
 
 Beauty, youth, and endless Spring 
 
 Dwell upon thy rosy wing. 
 
 Thou, if stormy Boreas throws 
 Down whole forests when he blows, 
 With a pregnant flowery birth 
 Can'st refresh the teeming earth ; 
 If he nip the early bud — 
 If he blast what's fair and good, 
 If he scatter our choice flowers. 
 If he shake our hills or bowers.
 
 124 THE POEMS OF 
 
 If his rude breatli threaten us — 
 
 Thou can'st stroke great JEohis, 
 
 And from him the grace obtain 
 To bind him in an iron chain. 
 
 Thus, whilst you deal your body 'mongst your friends, 
 And fill their circling arms, my glad Soul sends 
 This her embrace : Thus we of Delphos greet : 
 As Laymen clasp their hands, we join our feet. 
 
 S' 
 
 To Master W[alter\ Montague. 
 
 IE, I arrest you at your Country's suit, 
 Wlio, as a debt to her, requires the fruit 
 Of that rich stock, wliich she by Nature's hand 
 Gave you in trust, to th' use of this whole land. 
 Next, she indicts you of a felony, 
 =projpriia.i For stealing what was her propriety — 
 
 Your self — from hence : so seeking to convey 
 The public treasiire of the State away. 
 
 More, you're accused of Ostracism, the fate 
 Imposed of old by the Athenian state 
 On eminent virtue ; Init that curse, which they 
 Cast on their men, you on your cou^ntry lay. 
 For, thus divided from your noble parts, 
 This kingdom lives in exile, and all hearts 
 That relish worth or honour, being rent 
 From your perfections, suffer banisliment. 
 
 These are your public injuries ; but I 
 Have a just private quarrel, to defy. 
 And call you Coward, thus to run away 
 When you had pierced my heart, not daring stay 
 Till I redeem'd my honour : but I swear. 
 By Celia's eyes, bji- the same force to tear 
 
 Your heart from you, or not to end this strife 
 Till 1 or find revenge, or lose my life.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 125 
 
 But as in single fights it oft liatli been 
 In that nnefjual ' equal trial ' seen, 
 That he who had received the wrong at first 
 Came from the Combat too oft with the worst ; 
 So, if you foil me when we meet, I'll then 
 Give you fair leave to wound me so again. 
 
 To MY Friend G[ilbert] N{eville\ ; 
 From Wrest [Park, Bedfordshire.] 
 
 I BREATHE, sweet Ghib, the temperate air of Wrest, 
 Where I, no more with raging storms oppress'd, 
 Wear the cold nights ont by the banks of Tiveed, 
 On the bleak mountains, where fierce tempests breed, 
 And everlasting Winter dwells ; where mild 
 Favonius, and the vernal winds, exiled 
 
 Did never spread their wings : but the wild North 
 Brings sterile fern, thistles, and brambles forth. 
 
 Here, steep'd in balmy dew, the pregnant Earth 
 Sends forth her teeming womb a flowery birth ; 
 And, cherish'd with the warm sun's cpiickening heat, 
 Her porous bosom doth rich odours sweat ; 
 Whose perfumes through the ambient air diffuse 
 Such native aromatics, as we nse : 
 No foreign gums, nor essence fetch'd from far. 
 No volatile spirits, nor compounds that are 
 
 Adulterate ; but at Nature's cheap expense 
 With far more genuine sweets refresh the sense. 
 
 Such pure and uncompounded beauties bless 
 This mansion with an useful comeliness. 
 Devoid of art : for here the architect 
 Did not with curioi;s skill a pile erect 
 Of carved marble, or tough porphyry, 
 But built a house for Hospitality ;
 
 126 THE POEMS OF 
 
 No sumptuous cliimney-j^iece of shining stone 
 Invites tlie stranger's eye to gaze upon, 
 And coldly entertains his sight, but clear 
 And cheerful flames cherish and warm him here ; 
 No Doric or Corinthian pillars grace 
 With imagery this structure's naked face. 
 The Lord and Lady of this jslace delight 
 Rather to be, in act, than seen in sight. 
 
 In stead of statues, to adorn their wall, 
 They throng with living men their merry Hall ; 
 Where, at large tables fiU'd with wholesome meats, 
 The servant, tenant, and kind neighbour eats. 
 Some of that rank, spun of a finer thread. 
 Are with the women, steward, and Chaplain, fed 
 With daintier cates ; others of better note. 
 Whom wealth, parts, office, or the Herald's coat 
 Have sever'd from the common, freely sit 
 At the Lord's table, whose spread sides admit 
 A large access of friends, to fill those seats 
 Of his capacious circle, fill'd with meats 
 Of choicest relish, till his oaken back 
 Under the load of piled up dishes crack. 
 
 Nor think, because our pyramids, and high 
 Exalted towers threaten not the sky. 
 That therefore Wrest of narrowness complains, 
 Or strait'ned walls ; for she more numerous trains 
 Of noble guests daily receives, and those 
 Can with far more conveniency dispose. 
 Than prouder piles : where the vain builder spent 
 More cost in outward gay embellishment 
 Than real iise, Avhich was the sole design 
 Of our contriver, who made things not fine, 
 But fit for service. AmaUhea^s Horn 
 Of Plenty is not in effigy worn, 
 Without the gate, but she, within the door 
 Empties her free and unexhausted store.
 
 THOMAS GAREW. 127 
 
 Nor, crown'd with wlieaten wreaths, doth Ceres stand 
 
 In stone, with a crook'd sickle in her hand ; 
 
 Nor on a marble tun, his face besmear'd 
 
 With grapes, is curl'd nnscissor'd Bacchus rear'd : 
 
 We offer not in emblems to the eyes, 
 
 But to the taste, those useful deities : 
 
 We press the juicy God, and drink his blood. 
 And grind the yellow Goddess into food. 
 
 Yet we decline not all the work of Art ; 
 But where more bounteous Nature bears a part. 
 And guides her handmaid, if she but dispense 
 Fit matter, she with care and diligence 
 Employs her skill ; for where the neighbour source 
 Poixrs forth her waters, she directs their course. 
 And entertains the flowing streams in deep 
 And spacious channels, where they slowly creep 
 In snaky windings, as the shelving groimd 
 Leads them in circles, till they twice surround 
 This Island Mansion, which, i' th' centre placed, 
 Is with a double crystal heaven embraced : 
 In which our Avatery constellations float. 
 Our fishes, swans, our water-man, and boat : 
 Envyd by those above, who wish to slake 
 Their star-burn'd limbs in our refreshing Lake ; 
 But they stick fast, nail'd to the barren sphere. 
 Whilst ours increase, in fertile waters here. 
 
 Disport and wander freely where they please. 
 Within the circuit of our narrow seas. 
 
 With various trees we fringe the water's brink. 
 Whose thirsty roots the soaking moisture drink ; 
 And whose extended lioughs in equal ranks 
 Yield fruit, and shade, and beauty to the banks. 
 On this side young Vertumnus sits, and courts 
 His ruddy-cheek'd Pomona ; Ze]}hyr sports 
 On th' other, with loved Flora, yielding there 
 Sweets for the smell, sweets for the palate here.
 
 128 POEMS OF THOMAS GAREW. 
 
 But did you taste tlie liigli and miglity drink 
 Wliicli from tliat fountain flows, you 'Id clearly think 
 The God of Wine did his jalump clusters bring, 
 And crush the Falerne grape into our spring ; 
 Or else, disguis'd in watery robes, did swim 
 To Ceres bed, and make her big of him. 
 Begetting so himself on her : for know 
 Our Vintage here in March doth nothing owe 
 To theirs in Autumn, but our fire boils here 
 As lusty liquor, as the Sun makes there. 
 
 Thus I enjoy my self, and taste the fruit 
 Of this blest Peace ; whilst, toil'd in the pursuit 
 Of bucks and stags, emblems of War, you strive 
 To keep the memory of our arms alive.
 
 [Ti lie -page of /he Original Edition, 1634.] 
 
 COELVM BrITANNICVM. 
 
 At White-Hall in the Banquetting-House, 
 On Shrove-Tuesday Night, the 1 8 of February 
 
 1633. 163J.] 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed for Thomas IValkky, and are to be Sold 
 
 at his .Shop, neare White-Hall. 
 
 1634
 
 [D{on hahcl ingenium ; Citsar sed jussit; habebo: 
 Cur inc posse ucgcin, posse quid ilk piitat? 
 
 The Inventors of the Masque : 
 Thomas Carew. hiigo Jones.
 
 THE MASQUE : 
 
 COELUM BriTANNICUM. 
 
 The Description of tlie Scene. 
 
 j|HE first thing that presented itself to the 
 
 sight, was a rich Ornament, that enclosed 
 
 the Scene. In the npper jiart of which were 
 
 great branches of Foliage, growing ont of 
 
 leaves and husks, with a Coronice at the top ; and in 
 
 the midst was placed a large compartment, composed 
 
 of Grotesque work, wherein were Harpies, with wings 
 
 and lion's claws, and their hinder parts converted into 
 
 leaves and branches : over all was a broken Frontispice, [sic. 
 
 wrought with scrolls and mask-heads of Children ; and 
 
 within this a Table, adorned with a lesser compartment, 
 
 with this inscrijition, Coelum Britannic um. The two 
 
 sides of this ornament were thus ordered : First, from 
 
 the ground arose a square Basement, and on the Plinth 
 
 stood a great Vase of gold, richly enchased, and beautified 
 
 with sculptures of Great Relief, with fruitages hanging 
 
 from the upper part. At the foot of this sat two Youths, 
 
 naked, in their natural colours ; each of these with one 
 
 arm supported the Vase, on the cover of which stood 
 
 two young Women, in draperies, arm in arm : the one 
 
 figuring the Glory of Princes, and the other Mansuetude 
 
 [gentleness] : their other arms bore up an Oval, in which, 
 
 to the King's Majesty, was this Impress— A Lion, with [lmi'<r.= effigy. 
 
 an imperial crown on his head : the word [motto], 
 
 Animuvi sub x>ectore forti. On the other side was tlie 
 
 like composition, but the design of the Figures varied ; 
 
 131
 
 132 
 
 THE POEMS OF 
 
 By Inigoi 
 Jones. J 
 
 Watchet = -\ 
 pale blue. J 
 
 = Throne.] 
 
 Hermes. ] 
 
 and in tlie Oval on tlie top, being borne up by Nobility 
 and Fecundity, was tliis Impress, to the Queen's Majesty, 
 a Lily growing with branches and leaves, and three lesser 
 Lilies springing out of the stem ; the word, Semper 
 inclita Virtus. All this Ornament was heightened with 
 gold, and for the invention and various conq^osition 
 was the newest and most gracious that hath been done 
 in this i^lace. 
 
 The curtain was watchet, and a pale yellow in j^anes ; 
 which, flying up on the sudden, discovered the Scene, 
 representing old arches, old palaces, decayed walls, 
 parts of Temples, Theatres, Basilicas, and Thermae, 
 with confused heaps of broken columns, bases, coronices, 
 and statixes, lying as under ground ; and altogether 
 resembling the ruins of some great City of the ancient 
 Romans or civilized Britons. This strange prospect 
 detained the eyes of the spectators some time, when, 
 to a loud music, Mercuri/ descends ; on the ujiper jiart 
 of his chariot stands a Cock, in action of crowing. His 
 habit was a coat of flame colour, girt to him, and a 
 white mantle trimmed with gold and silver ; upon his 
 head a wreath, with small falls of white feathei's, a 
 Caduceus in his hand, and wings at his heels. Being 
 come to the ground, he dismounts, and goes up to the 
 State. 
 
 Mercury. 
 
 FROM the high Senate of the Gods, to You, 
 Bright glorious Twins of Love and Majesty, 
 Before whose throne three warlike Nations bend 
 Their willing knees : on whose Imperial brows 
 The Regal Circle prints no awful frowns 
 To fright your Subjects, but whose calmer eyes 
 Shed joy and safety on their melting hearts. 
 That flow with cheerful loyal reverence, 
 Come I, Gyllenms, Jove's Ambassador ; 
 Not, as of old, to whisper amorous tales 
 Of wanton love into the glowing ear 
 Of some choice beauty in this numerous train ;
 
 THOMAS GAREW. 133 
 
 Those days are fled, the rebel flame is qnencli'd 
 
 In heavenly breasts ; the gods have sworn by Stijx, 
 
 Never to tempt yielding mortality 
 
 To loose embraces. Your exemplar' life 
 
 Hath not alone transfus'd a zealous heat 
 
 Of imitation through your virtuous Court — 
 
 By whose bright blaze your Palace is become 
 
 The envy'd pattern of this under-world — 
 
 But th' aspiring flame hath kindled hea^■en ; 
 
 Th' immortal bosoms burn with emulous fires, 
 
 Love rivals your great virtues, Royal sir, 
 
 And Juno, Madam, your attractive grace : 
 
 He his wild lusts, her raging jealousies 
 
 She lays aside, and through th' Olympic hall, 
 
 As yours doth here, their great Example spreads. 
 
 And though of old, when youthful l)lood conspired 
 
 With his new Empire, prone to heats of lust. 
 
 He acted incests, rapes, adulteries. 
 
 On earthly beauties which his raging Queen, 
 
 Swoln with revengeful fury, turn'd to beasts, 
 
 And in despite he re-transform'd to Stars, 
 
 Till he had fill'd the crowded Firmament 
 
 "With his loose Strumpets, and their spurious race, 
 
 Where the eternal records of his shame 
 
 Shine to the world in flaming Characters ; 
 
 When in the Crystal mirror of your reign 
 
 He view'd him self, he found his loathsome stains : 
 
 And now, to expiate the infectious guilt 
 
 Of those detested luxuries, he'll chase 
 
 The infamous lights from their usurped Sphere, 
 
 And drown in the Lethcean flood their curst 
 
 Both names and memories. In whose vacant rooms 
 
 First you succeed ; and of the wheeling Orb [chari. i. 
 
 In the most eminent and conspicuous point, 
 
 With dazzling beams and spreading magnitude, 
 
 Shine the briglit Pole-star of this hemisphere. 
 
 Next, liy your side, in a triumphant Chair, [q. ncn. Mar. 
 
 And crown'd witli Ariadne^s diadem,
 
 134 THE POEMS OF 
 
 Sits tlie fail- Consort of your lieart and tlirone. 
 Diffused about you, witli that share of light, 
 As they of virtue have derived from you, 
 He'll fix this Noble train, of either sex ; 
 So to the British stars this lower Globe 
 
 Shall owe its light, and they alone dispense 
 To til' world a pure refined influence. 
 
 Enter Momus, attired in a long darkish robe, all wrought 
 over with poniards, Serpents' tongues, eyes, and 
 ears ; his beard and hair parti-coloured, and upon 
 his head a wreath stuck with Feathers, and a 
 Porcupine in the forepart. 
 
 Momus. 
 'Uozen,'pa.?«im.] By your leave, Mortals. Good-den, Cousin Hermes! 
 your pardon, good my Lord Ambassador. I found the 
 tables of your Arms and Titles in every Inn betwixt 
 this and Olymiyus, where your present expedition is 
 registered your nine thousandth nine hundred ninety- 
 ninth Legation. I cannot reach the policy why your 
 master bi-eeds so few Statesmen ; it suits not with his 
 dignity that in the whole empyrfcum there should not 
 be a god fit to send on these honourable errands but 
 your self, who are not yet so careful of his honour or 
 your own, as might liecome your quality, when you are 
 itinerant : the Hosts upon the high-way cry out with 
 open mouth upon you, for support pilfery in your 
 train ; which, though as you are the god of petty 
 t. larcinry.] larceny, you might protect, yet you know it is directly 
 against the new orders, and opposes the Keformation in 
 Diameter. 
 
 iUercwy.— Peace, Eailer ! bridle your licentious 
 
 tongue, 
 And let this Presence teach you modesty. 
 Momus.— Lai it, if it can ; in the mean time I will 
 acquaint it with my condition. Know, gay people, 
 that though your Poets, (who enjoy by Patent a parti- 
 cular privilege to draw down any of the Deities, from
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 135 
 
 Twelftli-niglit till Shrove-tuesday, at wliat time there 
 is aniuTally a most familiar intercourse between the two 
 Conrts,) have as yet never invited me to these Solemni- 
 ties ; yet it shall appear by my intrusion this night, that 
 I am a very considerable Person upon these occasions, 
 and may most properly assist at such entertainments. 
 My name is 3Io7nus-ap-Somnns-ap-Erebus-a2J-Chaos-ap- 
 Demogorcjon-ci'p-Eternity. My offices and titles are, the 
 sujjreme Theomastix, Hypercritic of manners, Proto- 
 notary of abuses, Arch-Informer, Dilator-General, Uni- 
 versal Calumniator, Eternal Plaintiff, and perjietual 
 Foreman of the Grand Inquest. My privileges are 
 an ubiquitary, circnmambulatory, speculatory, inter- 
 rogatory, redargutory immunity over all the privy 
 lodgings, behind hangings, doors, curtains, throughi 
 key-holes, chinks, windows, aliout all Venerial Lobbies, 
 Sconces, or Redoiibts ; though it be to the surprise of a 
 perdu Page or Chaml)ermaid ; in and at all Courts of 
 civil and criminal judicature, all counsels, consultations, 
 and Parliamentary Assemblies, where, though I am laut 
 a Wool-sack god, and have no vote in the sanction of 
 new laws, I have yet a Prerogative of Avresting the old 
 to any whatsoever interjDretation, whether it be to the 
 behoof or prejudice of Jupiter his crown and dignity, 
 for and against the Rights of either houses of Patrician 
 or Plebeian gods. My natural qualities are to make 
 Jove frown, Juno pout. Mars chafe, Venus blush, Vulcan 
 glow, Saturn quake, Cynthia pale, Phoebus hide his face, 
 and Mercury here take his heels. My recreations are 
 witty mischiefs, as when Saturn gelt his father ; the 
 Smith caught his wife and her Bravo in a net of cob- 
 web-iron ; and Hebe, through the lubricity of the pave- 
 ment tumblingover the Half-pace, presented the emblem 
 of the forked tree, and discover'd to the tanned Ethiops 
 the snowy cliffs of Calabria with the Grotto of Puteoli. 
 But that you may arrive at the perfect knowledge of 
 me by the familiar illustration of a Bird of mine own 
 feather, old Peter Aretine, who reduced all the sceptres
 
 136 THE POEMS OF 
 
 and mitres of tliat age tributary to liis wit, was my 
 Parallel ; and Frank RaVlais sack'd mucli of my milk 
 too ; but your modern French Hospital of Oratory is 
 mere counterfeit, an arrant INIountebank ; foi-, tliougli 
 fearing no other tortures than his Sciatica, he discourse 
 of Kings and Queens with as little reverence as of 
 Grooms and Chambermaids, yet he wants their fang- 
 5. Maiherhe?] teeth and scorpion's tail: I mean that fellow who, to 
 add to his stature thinks it a greater grace to dance on 
 his tiptoes like a Dog in a doublet, than to ^valk like 
 other men on the soles of his feet. 
 
 Mercury. — No more, impertinent Trifler ! you 
 disturb 
 
 The great Affair with your rude scurrilous chat : 
 
 What doth the knowledge of your abject state 
 
 Concern Jove's solemn Message ? 
 
 Momus. — Sir, by your favour, though you have a 
 more especial Commission of employment from Jupiter, 
 and a larger entertainment from his Exchequer, yet 
 as a free-born god I have the liberty to travel at mine 
 own charges, without your pass or countenance Legatine ; 
 and that it may appear a sedulous acute observer may 
 know as much as a dull phlegmatic Ambassador, and 
 wears a triple key to unlock the mysterious Cyphers of 
 your dark secrecies, I will discourse the politic state of 
 Heaven to this trim Audience. — 
 
 At this the Scene changeth, and in the heaven is dis- 
 covered a Sphere, with Stars placed in their several 
 Images, borne up by a huge naked Figure (only a 
 piece of Drapery hanging over his thigh), kneeling 
 and bowing forwards, as if the great weight lying 
 on his shoulders oppressed him ; upon his head a 
 Crown : by all which he might easily be known to 
 be Atlas. 
 — You shall understand that Juinter, upon the inspec- 
 tion of I know not what virtuous precedents, extant, as 
 they say, here in this Court (but, as I more probably
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 137 
 
 guess, out of the consideration of the decay of his 
 natural abilities), hath before a frequent convocation 
 of the Superlunary Peers in a solemn Oi-ation recanted, 
 disclaimed, and utterly renounced, all the lascivious 
 extravagancies and riotous enormities of his forepast 
 licentious life ; and taken his oath on Juno's Breviary, 
 religiously kissing the two-leaved Book, never to stretch 
 his limbs more betwixt adulterous sheets : and hath 
 with pathetical remonstrances exhorted, and under strict 
 penalties enjoined, a respective conformity in the several 
 subordinate Deities. And because the Libertines of 
 Antiquity, the Ribald Poets, to perpetuate the memory 
 and example of their triumphs over chastity to all 
 future imitation, have in their immoral songs celebrated [' immortal, 
 the martyrdom of those Strumpets under the persecu- 
 tion of the wives, and devolved to posterity the pedigrees 
 of their whores, bawds, and bastards ; it is therefore 
 by the authority aforesaid enacted, that this whole 
 Army of Constellations be immediately disbanded and 
 cashiered, so to remove all imputation of impiety from 
 the Celestial Spirits, and all lustful inHuence upon 
 terrestrial bodies ; and, consetpiently, that there be 
 an Inquisition erected to expunge in the Ancient, and 
 suppress in the modern and succeeding Poems and 
 Pamphlets, all past, present, and future mention of 
 those abjured heresies, and to take particular notice of 
 all ensuing incontinencies, and punish them in their 
 high Commission Court. Am not I in election to be 
 a tall Statesman, think you, that can repeat a passage 
 at a Council-table thus punctually ? 
 
 Mercury. — I shun in vain the importunity 
 With which this snarler vexeth all the gods ; 
 Jove cannot 'scape him. Well, what else from heaven ? 
 
 3fomus. — Heaven ! Heaven is no more the place it 
 was : a cloister of Carthusians, a monastery of converted 
 gods ; Jove is grown old and fearful, apprehends a 
 subversion of his Emjure, and doubts lest Fate should
 
 138 THE FOEMS OF 
 
 introduce a legal succession in the legitimate lieir, by 
 repossessing the Titanian line : and hence springs all 
 this innovation. "We have had new orders read in the 
 Presence Chamber by the Vi'-President of Parnassus, 
 too strict to be observed long : Monopolies are called in, 
 sophistication of wars j^unished, and rates imj)osed on 
 Commodities. Injunctions are gone oiit to the Nectar 
 Brewers, for the purging of the heavenly Beverage of 
 a narcotic weed which hath rend'red the Ideas confiised 
 in the Divine intellects, and reducing it to the composi- 
 tion used in Sahirn's reign. Edicts are made for the 
 restoring of decayed house-keeping, prohibiting the 
 repair of Families to the Metroj^olis ; but this did 
 endanger an Amazonian mutiny, till the females put 
 on a more masculine resolution of soliciting businesses 
 in their own persons, and leaving their husbands 
 at home for stallions of hospitality. Bacchus Lath 
 commanded all Taverns to be shut, and no liquor 
 di"awn after ten at night. Cupid must go no more 
 so scandalously naked, but is enjoined to make him 
 breeches, though of his mother's petticoats. Gani- 
 mede is forbidden the Bed-chamber, and must only 
 minister in pulilic. The gods must keep no Pages, 
 nor Grooms of their Chamber, under the age of 25, 
 and those provided of a competent stock of beard. 
 Pa7i may not pipe, nor Proteus juggle, but by special 
 = By word -i ]iermission. Vulcan was brought to an Ore-tenus, and 
 sta™-ciam'6n-.J ^^ed, for driving in a plate of iron into one of the 
 Sun's chariot -wheels, and frost-nailing his horses 
 upon the fifth of November last, for breach of a penal 
 Statute prohibiting work upon Holydays, that being 
 Gimpowder Plot.]iiie annual celebration of the Gygantomachy. In brief, 
 the whole state of the Hierarchy suffers a total re- 
 formation, especially in the point of reciprocation 
 of conjugal affection. Vemis hath confessed all her 
 adulteries, and is received to grace by her husband ; 
 who, conscious of the great disparity betwixt her 
 perfections and his deformities, allows those levities as
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 139 
 
 an equal counteri^oise ; but it is the prettiest spectacle to 
 see her stroking with her ivory hand his collied clieeks, 
 and with lier snowy fingers coml)ing his sooty beard. 
 Jiijnter too begins to learn to lead his own wife ; I left 
 him practising in the milky way ; and there is no donl)t 
 of an universal obedience, where the Law-giver himself 
 in his own person ol)serves his decrees so punctually : 
 who, besides, to eternize the memory of that great 
 example of Matrimonial union which he derives from 
 hence, hath on his bed-chamber door and ceiling, 
 fretted with stars in capital letters, engraven the 
 inscription of CARLO MARIA. This is as much, I 
 am sure, as either your knowledge or Instructions can 
 direct you to, which I having in a blunt round tale, 
 without State-formality, politic inferences, or suspected 
 Rhetorical elegancies, already delivered, you may now 
 dexteriously proceed to the second part of your charge, 
 which is the raking-up of yon heavenly sparks in the 
 embers, or reducing the Jj^therial lights to their 
 primitive opacity and gross dark substance ; they 
 are all unrivetted from the Sphere, and hang loose 
 in their sockets, where they but attend the waving 
 of your Caduce, and immediately they re-invest their 
 pristine shapes, and appear before you in their own 
 natural deformities. 
 
 Mercury. — Jlomus, thou shalt prevail, for since thy 
 bold 
 Intrusion hath inverted my resolves, 
 I must obey necessity, and thus turn 
 My face, to breathe the Thunderer's just decree 
 'Gainst this adulterate Sjjhere, which first 1 purge 
 Of loathsome Monsters and mis-shapen forms : 
 Down from the azure concave thus I charm 
 The Lyrnman Hydra, the rough unlick'd Bear, 
 The watchful Dragon, the storm-boding Whale, 
 The Centaur, the horn'd Goat-fish Capricorn, 
 The Snake-head Gorgon, and fierce Sagittar. 
 ' Divested of your gorgeous starry robes.
 
 140 THE POEMS OF 
 
 Fall from the circling Orb ! and e'er you suck 
 Fresli venom in, measure this happy earth : 
 
 Then to the fens, caves, forests, deserts, seas, 
 Fly, and resume your native qualities ! ' 
 
 They dance, in these monstrous sha-pes, the first Anti- 
 masque, of natural deformity. 
 
 Momus. — Are not these fine companions, trim play- 
 fellows for the Deities? Yet these and their fellows 
 have made up all our conversation for some thousands 
 of years. Do not you, fair Ladies, acknowledge your 
 selves deeply engaged now to those Poets, your servants, 
 that, in the height of commendation, have raised your 
 beauties to a parallel with such society ? Hath not 
 the consideration of these inhabitants rather frighted 
 your thoughts utterly from the contemplation of the 
 place ? But now that those heavenly Mansions are to 
 be void, you that shall hereafter be found unlodged 
 will become inexcusable ; especially since A^irtue alone 
 shall be sufficient title, fine, and rent : yet if there be 
 a Lady, not competently stock'd that way, she shall 
 not on the instant utterly despair, if she carry a 
 sufficient pawn of handsomeness ; for however the 
 letter of the Law runs, Jupiter, notwithstanding his 
 age and present austerity, will never refuse to stamp 
 Beauty, and make it cvirrent with his own Impression ; 
 but to such as are destitute of both, I can afford but 
 small encouragement. Proceed, Cousin Mercury ; what 
 f oUow^s ? 
 
 Merc. — Look up, and mark where the broad Zodiac 
 Hangs like a Belt about the breast of heaven ; 
 On the right shoulder, like a flaming Jewel, 
 His shell with nine rich topazes adorn'd. 
 Lord of this Troi)ic, sits the scalding Grab : 
 He, when the Sun gallops in full career 
 His annual race, his ghastly claws uprear'd, 
 Frights at the confines of the torrid Zone, 
 The fiery team, and proudly stops their course,
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 141 
 
 Making a solstice, till tlie fierce Steeds learn 
 
 His backward paces, and so retrogi-ade 
 
 Post down-hill to tli' opposed Capricorn. 
 
 Thus I depose him from his haughty Throne : 
 
 ' Drop from the Sky into the briny flood ; 
 
 There teach thy motion to the ebbing Sea ! 
 
 But let those fires that beautified thy shell 
 
 Take human shapes, and the disorder show 
 Of thy regressive paces here below ! ' 
 
 The second Anti-masque is danced in retrograde paces, 
 expressing obliquity in motion. 
 
 Momus. — This Crab, I confess, did ill become the 
 heavens ; but there is another that more infests the 
 Earth, and makes such a solstice in the politer Arts 
 and Sciences, as they have not been observed for many 
 Ages to have made any sensible advance. Could you 
 but lead the learned squadrons with a masculine 
 resolution past this point of retrogradation, it were a 
 benefit to mankind, worthy the power of a God, and to 
 be paid with Altars ; but that not being the work of 
 this night, you may pursue your purposes. What now 
 succeeds ? 
 
 Mercury. — Vice that, unbodied, in the Appetite 
 Erects his Throne, hath yet in bestial shapes. 
 Branded by Nature with the character 
 And distinct stamp of some peculiar ill, 
 Mounted the sky, and fix'd his Troj^ihies there : 
 As fawning Fhittery in the Little Dog, 
 F th' Bigger, churlish Murmur ; Cowardice 
 I' th' timorous Hare ; Ambition in the Eagle ; 
 Rapine and Avarice in th' adventurous Ship 
 That sail'd to Colchis for the golden fleece. 
 Drunken distemper in the Goblet flows ; 
 I' th' Dart and Scoipion, biting Calumny ; 
 In Hercules and Lion, f uiious I'age ; 
 Vain Ostentation in Cassiopeia :
 
 142 THE POEMS OF 
 
 All these I to eternal exile doom, 
 
 But to this place their emblem'd figures summon, 
 Clad in their jiroper Figures, by which best 
 Their incorporeal nature is express'd. 
 
 The third Anti-masque is daiuecl of these several Vices, 
 expressing the deviation from Virtue. 
 
 Momus. — From henceforth it shall be no more said 
 in the Proverb, when you would express a riotous 
 Assembly, That hell — but heaven — is broke loose. 
 This was an arrant Gaol-delivery ; all the prisons of 
 your great Cities could not have vomited more corrupt 
 matter ; but, Cousin Cijlleneus, in my judgment it is 
 not safe that these infectious persons should wander 
 here, to the hazard of this Island ; they threat'ned less 
 danger when they were nailed to the Firmament. I 
 should conceive it a very discreet course, since they are 
 provided of a tall vessel of theii' own, ready rigg'd, to 
 embark them all together in that good Shij} called the 
 Argo, and send them to the plantation in New-England, 
 which hath purged more virulent humours from the 
 politic body, than Guiacum and all the West-Indian 
 drugs have from the natural bodies of this kingdom. 
 Can you devise how to dispose them better ? 
 
 Mercury. — They cannot breathe this pure and 
 temperate Air, 
 Where Virtue lives ; but will, with hasty flight, 
 'Mongst fogs and vapours, seek unsound abodes. 
 Fly after them, from your usiirped seats. 
 You foul renaainders of that viperous brood ! 
 Let not a Star of the luxurious race 
 With his loose blaze stain the sky's crystal face. 
 
 All the Stars are quenched, and the Sphere is darkened. 
 
 Before the entry of every Anti-masque, the Stars in 
 those figures in the Sj)here which they were to 
 represent, were extinct ; so, by the end of the Anti- 
 masques in the Sphere,no more Stars were to be seen.
 
 THOMAS GAREW. U3 
 
 iH/onms.— Here is a total Eclipse of tlie eiglitli Sphere, 
 whicli neither BooJcer, Allestre, nor any of your prog- 
 nosticators, no, nor their great master, Tyclto, were 
 aware of ; but yet, in my opinion, there were some 
 innocent, and some generous Constellations, that might 
 have been reserved for noble uses ; as the Scales and 
 Sword to adorn the statue of Justice, since she resides 
 here on Earth only in picture and efhgy. The Eagle 
 had been a fit present for the Germans, in regard their 
 bird hath mew'd most of her feathers lately. The 
 Dolphin, too, had been most welcome to the French; [Dauphin. 
 and then, had you but clap'd Perseus on his Pegasus, 
 brandishing his Sword, the Dragon yawning on his 
 back under the horse's feet, with Pijtlion's dart through 
 his throat, there had been a divine St. George for this 
 Nation ! but since you have improvidently shuffled 
 them altogether, it now rests only that we provide 
 an immediate siiccession ; and to that purjjose I will 
 instantly proclaim a free Election. 
 
 yes, yes, U yes. 
 
 By the Father of the gods, 
 
 and the King of Men. 
 
 Whereas we having observed a very commendable 
 practice taken into frequent use by the Princes of 
 these latter Ages, of j^erpetuating the memory of their 
 famous entei'prizes, sieges, battles, victories, in Picture, 
 Sculpture, Tapistry, Embroideries, and other manu- 
 factures, wherewith they have embellished their public 
 Palaces, and taken into Our more distinct and serious 
 consideration the particular Christmas hanging of the 
 Guard - Chamber of this Court, wherein the Naval 
 Victory of '88 is, to the eternal glory of this Nation, 
 exactly delineated ; and whereas We likewise, out of a 
 prophetical imitation of this so laudable custom, did, 
 for many thousand years before, adorn and beautify 
 the eighth room of Our Celestial Mansion, commonly 
 called the Star-Chamber, with the military adventures, 
 stratagems, achievements, feats, and defeats, performed
 
 144 THE POEMS OF 
 
 in Our Owai person, wliilst yet Our Standard was 
 erected, and We a Combatant in tlie Amorous War- 
 fare : it liatli, notwithstanding, after mature delibera- 
 tion and long debate — held first in our own inscrutable 
 bosom, and afterwards communicated with Our Privy 
 Council — seemed meet to Our Omnijjotency, for causes 
 to Our self best known, to iinfurnish and dis-array our 
 'fore-said Star-Chaniber of all those Ancient Constel- 
 lations which have for so many Ages been sufficiently 
 notorious, and to admit into their vacant places such 
 Persons only as shall be qualified, with exemplar' 
 Virtue and .eminent Desert, there to shine in inde- 
 lible characters of glory to all Posterity. It is there- 
 fore Our divine will and pleasure, voluntarily, and out 
 of Our own free and proper motion, mere grace and 
 special favour, by these presents, to sj^ecify and declare 
 to all Our loving People, that it shall be lawful for 
 any Person whatsoever, that conceiveth him or her self 
 to be really endued with any Heroical Virtue or tran- 
 scendent Merit, worthy so high a calling and dignity, 
 to bring their several pleas and pretences before Our 
 Right trusty and well-beloved Cousin and Counsellor, 
 Don Mercury and god Movius, &c., our peculiar Dele- 
 gates for that affair ; upon whom We have Transferr'd 
 an absolute power to conclude and determine, without 
 Api:)eal or Revocation, accordingly as to their wisdoms 
 it shall in such cases appear behooveful and expedient. 
 Given at Our Palace in Ohjmims the first day of the 
 first month, in the first year of the Reformation. 
 
 Plutus enters, an old man full of wrinkles, a bald head, 
 
 a thin ^\"hite beard, sj^ectacles on his nose, with a 
 
 bunched back, and attired in a Robe of Cloth of 
 
 Gold. 
 
 Plutus appears. 
 
 Mercury. — Who 's this appears 1 
 
 Momus. — This is a subterranean fiend, Plutus, in this 
 dialect term'd Riches, or the God of Gold ; a Poison hid 
 by Providence, in the bottom of seas and navel of the
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 145 
 
 earth, from man's discovery ; where, if the seeds began 
 to sjjrout above-ground, the excrescence was carefully 
 guarded by Dragons ; yet at last, by human curiosity, 
 brought to light to their own destruction, this being 
 the true Pandora's box, whence issued all those 
 mischiefs that now fill the universe. 
 
 Plutns. — That I prevent the message of the gods 
 Thus with my haste, and not attend their summons, 
 Whicli ought in Justice call me to the place 
 I now require of Right, is not alone 
 To show the just precedence that 1 hold 
 Before all earthly, next th' imjnortal Powers ; 
 But to exclude the hope of partial Grace 
 In all Pretenders, who, since I descend 
 To equal trial, must by my example. 
 Waiving your favour, claim hj sole Desert, 
 
 If Virtue must inherit, she's my slave ; 
 I lead her captive in a golden chain. 
 About the world ; she takes her form and being 
 From my creation ; and those barren seeds 
 That drop from Heaven, if I not cherish them 
 With my distilling dews and fotive heat, fnourishing. 
 
 They know no vegetation ; but, exposed 
 To blasting winds of freezing Poverty, 
 Or not shoot forth at all, or budding wither. 
 Should I proclaim the daily sacrifice 
 Brought to my Temples by the toiling rout, 
 Not of the fat and gore of al)ject Beasts 
 But human sweat and blood pour'd on my Altars, 
 I might provoke the envy of the gods. 
 Turn but your eyes, and mark the busy world. 
 Climbing steep Mountains for the sparkling stone, 
 Piercing the Centre for the sliining Ore, 
 And th' Ocean's bosom to rake pearly sands : 
 Crossing the torrid and the frozen Zones, 
 ']\Iidst rocks and swallowing Gulfs, for gainful trade : 
 And through opposing swords, fire, murd'ring cannon, 
 Scaling the walled Town for precious spoils. 
 
 K
 
 146 THE POEMS OF 
 
 Plant, in the passage to your heavenly seats, 
 These horrid dangers, and then see who dares 
 Advance his desperate foot ; yet am I sought. 
 And oft in vain, through these and greater hazards : 
 I could discover how your Deities 
 Are for my sake slighted, despised, abused ; 
 Your temples, shrines, altars, and images, 
 Uncover'd, rifled, robb'd and disarray'd 
 By sacrilegious hands ; yet is this treasure 
 To th' golden Mountain, where I sit adored, 
 With superstitious solemn rites convey'd. 
 And becomes sacred there ; the sordid wretch 
 Not daring touch the consecrated Ore, 
 Or with profane hands lessen the bright heap : 
 But this might draw your anger down on mortals, 
 For rend'ring me the homage due to you ; 
 Yet what is said may well express my power, 
 Too great for Earth, and only fit for Heaven, 
 
 Now, for your j^astime, view the naked root 
 Which, in the dirty earth and base mould drown'd, 
 Sends forth this precious Plant and golden fruit. 
 You lusty Swains, that to your grazing flocks 
 Pipe amorous roundelays ; you toiling Hinds, 
 That barb the fields, and to your merry teams 
 Whistle your jmssions ; and you mining Moles, 
 That in the bowels of your Mother-earth 
 Dwell, the eternal burden of her womb, 
 
 Cease from your labours, when Wealth bids you 
 
 Sing, dance, and keep a cheerful holyday. 
 
 They dance the fourth Anti-masque, consisting of Country 
 •people, music, and measures. 
 
 Mercury. — PltUus, the gods know and confess your 
 power. 
 Which feel)le Virtue seldom can resist ; 
 Stronger than Towers of brass or Chastity :
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 147 
 
 Jove knew you when he courted Danae, 
 And Cupid wears you on that arrow's head 
 That still prevails. But the gods keep their Thrones 
 To install Virtue, not her Enemies. 
 They dread thy force, which even themselves have felt : 
 Witness Mount Ida, wliere the Martial Maid 
 And frowning Juno did to mortal eyes 
 Naked for gold their sacred bodies show ! 
 Therefore for ever be from heaven banish'd : 
 But since with toil from undiscover'd Worlds 
 Thou art brought hither, where thou first did'st breathe 
 The thirst of Empire into Regal breasts. 
 And frightedst quiet Peace from her meek Throne, 
 Filling the World with tumult, blood, and war ; 
 Follow the Camps of the contentious earth. 
 And be the Conqu'ror's slave : but he that can 
 Or conquer thee, or give thee Virtue's stamp. 
 Shall shine in heaven a pure immortal Lamp. 
 
 Momus. — Nay, stay, and take my benediction along 
 with you ! I could, being here a Co-Judge, like others 
 in my place, now that you are condemned, either rail 
 at you, or break jests upon you ; but I rather choose to 
 loose a word of good counsel, and entreat you to be 
 more careful in your choice of company ; for you are 
 always found either with Misers, tliat not use you at 
 all, or with Fools, that know not how to use you well. 
 Be not hereafter so reserved and coy to men of worth 
 and parts, and so you shall gain such credit, as at the 
 next Sessions you may be heard with better success. 
 But till you are thus reform'd, I pronounce this 
 positive sentence. That wheresoever you shall choose 
 to abide, your society shall add no credit or reputation 
 to the party, nor your discontinuance or total absence 
 be matter of discouragement to any man ; and who- 
 soever shall hold a contrary estimation of you, shall be 
 condemn'd to wear perpetual Motley, unless he recant 
 his opinion. Now you may void the Court.
 
 148 THE POEMS OF 
 
 = Poverty.] Pcenia enters, a woman of a pale colour, large brims 
 of a liat upon lier head, tlirougli wliich her hair 
 started up like a fury ; her Eobe was of a dark 
 colour, full of patches ; about one of her hands 
 was tied a Chain of Iron, to which was fastened 
 a weighty stone, which she bore up under her arm. 
 
 Pcenia eiiiers. 
 
 Memory. — What Creature 's this ? 
 
 Momus. — The Antipodes to the other : they move like 
 two buckets, or as two nails drive out one another. If 
 Riches depart, Poverty will enter. 
 
 Poverty. — I nothing doubt, Great and Immortal 
 Powers, 
 But that the place your Wisdom hath denied 
 My foe, your Justice will confer on me ; 
 Since that which renders him incapable 
 Proves a strong plea for me. I could jiretend, 
 Even in these rags, a larger Sovereignty 
 1'han gaudy Wealth in all his pomp can boast ; 
 For mark how few they are that share the world ; 
 The numerous Armies, and the swarming Ants 
 That fight and toil for them, are all my Subjects, 
 They take my wages, wear my Livery : 
 Invention too and Wit are both my creatures, 
 And the whole race of Virtue is my offspring : 
 As many mischiefs issue from my womb. 
 And those as mighty, as proceed from Gold. 
 Oft o'er his Throne I wave my awful Sceptre, 
 And in the bowels of his state command, 
 When, midst his heaps of coin and liills of gold, 
 I pine and starve the avaricious Fool. 
 But I decline those titles, and lay claim 
 To heaven by right of Divine Contemplation : 
 She is my Darling, I in my soft lap
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 149 
 
 Free from disturbing cares, bargains, accounte, 
 Leases, rents, stewards, and tlie fear of thieves 
 That vex the rich, nurse lier in calm repose, 
 And with her all the Virtues speculative, 
 Which but with me find no secure retreat. 
 For entertainment of this hour, I'll call 
 A race of people to this place, that live 
 At Nature's charge, and not imiaortune heaven 
 To chain the winds up, or keep back the storms, 
 To stay the thunder, or forbid the hail 
 To thresh the unreap'd ear, liut to all weathers, 
 Both chilling frost and scalding sun, expose 
 Their equal face. Come forth, my swarthy train ! 
 In this fair circle dance, and as you move, 
 Mark and foretell happy events of Love. 
 
 Theij dance the fifth Anti-masque, of Gipsies. 
 
 Momus. — I cannot but wonder, that your perpetual 
 conversation with Poets and Philosophers hath fur- 
 nished you Avith no more Logic, or that you should 
 think to impose upon us so gross an inference, as 
 because Plutus and you are contrary, therefore what- 
 soever is denied of the one must be true of the other ; 
 as if it should follow of necessity, because he is not 
 Jupiter, you are. No, I give you to know, I am better 
 versed in cavils with the gods than to swallow such a 
 fallacy ; for though you two cannot be together in one 
 place, yet there are many places that may be without 
 you both, and such is heaven, where neither of you [is] 
 likely to arrive : therefore let me advise you to marry 
 your self to Content, and beget sage Apophthegms and 
 goodly moral Sentences, in dispraise of Riches, and 
 contempt of the world. 
 
 Mercury.— Thon dost presume too much, poor needy 
 wretch. 
 To claim a station in the Firmament, 
 Because thy humble Cottage or thy Tub
 
 150 THE POEMS OF 
 
 Nurses some lazy or pedantic virtue, 
 In tlie cheap sun-shine or by shady springs, 
 With roots and pot-herbs ; where thy rigid hand. 
 Tearing those human passions from the mind, 
 Upon whose stocks fair blooming virtues flourish, 
 Degradeth Nature, and benumbeth sense, 
 And Gorgon-Yike, turns active men to stone. 
 Nota bene.\ We uot require the dull society 
 Of your necessitated Temperance, 
 Or that unnatural stupidity 
 That knows nor joy nor sorrow ; nor your forced 
 Falsely exalted passive Fortitude 
 Above the active. This low abject brood. 
 Total Abst.] That fix their seats in mediocrity. 
 
 Become your servile minds ; but we advance 
 Such virtues only as admit excess : 
 Brave bounteous Acts, Regal Magnificence, 
 All-seeing Prudence, Magnanimity 
 That knows no bound, and that Heroic virtue 
 For which Antiquity liath left no name, 
 But patterns only, such as Hercules, 
 Achilles, Theseus. Back to thy loath'd cell ! 
 
 And when thou seest the new enlighten'd Sphere, 
 Study to know but what those Worthies are. 
 
 Tiche [Opportmiity or Forttme] enters : her head bald 
 behind, and one great lock before ; wings at her 
 shoulders, and in her hand a wheel ; her ujDper 
 parts naked, and the skirt of her garment wrought 
 all over with crowns, sceptres, books, and such 
 other things as express both her greatest and 
 smallest gifts. 
 
 Momus. — See where Dame Fortune comes ; you may 
 
 know her by her wheel, and that veil over [her] eyes ; 
 
 s.=hoodrd.] with which she hopes, like a seeled Pigeon, to mount 
 
 above the Clouds, and perch in the Eighth Sphere, 
 
 Listen ! she begins.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. IHl 
 
 Fortune. — I come not here, you gods, to plead tlie 
 right 
 By which Antiquity assign'd my Deity, 
 (Though no peculiar station 'mongst the Stars, 
 Yet general power to rule their Influence ;) 
 Or boast the title of Omnipotent, 
 Ascribed me then, by which 1 rivall'd Jove, 
 Since you have cancell'd all those old records : 
 But, confident in my good cause and merit, 
 Claim a succession in the vacant Orb. 
 For since Astrcea fled to heaven, I sit 
 Her Deputy on Earth ; I hold her scales, 
 And weigh men's fates out, who have made me blind. 
 Because themselves want eyes to see my causes ; 
 Call me inconstant, 'cause my works surpass 
 The shallow fathom of their human reason ; 
 Yet here, like blinded Justice, I dispense 
 With my impartial hands their constant lots : 
 And if desertless impious men engross 
 My best rewards, the fault is yours, you gods, 
 That scant your graces to mortality. 
 And, niggards of your good, scarce spare the world 
 One virtuous for a thousand wicked men. 
 It is no error to confer dignity, 
 But to bestow it on a vicious man ; 
 I gave the dignity, but you made the vice : 
 Make you nien good, and I'll make good men happy. 
 
 That Plutus is refused, dismays me not ; 
 He is ray Drudge, and the external pomp 
 In which he decks the world proceeds from me. 
 Not him ; like Harmony, that not resides 
 In strings or notes, but in the hand and voice. 
 The revolutions of Empires, States, 
 Sceptres and Crowns, are but my game and sport. 
 Which as they hang on the events of War, 
 So these depend upon my turning wheel.
 
 152 THE POEMS OF 
 
 You warlike Squadrons, mIio, in battle .join'd, 
 Dispute the Eight of Kings, which I decide, 
 Present the model of that martial frame, 
 By vv'hich, whenCrowns'are staked, I rule the game ! 
 
 Tke]j dance the sixth Anti-masque, being the 
 representation of a battle. 
 
 Momus. — Madam, I should censure you, pro falsa 
 clamore, — for preferring a scandalous cross-bill of 
 recrimination against the gods ; but your blindness 
 shall excuse you. Alas ! what would it advantage you, 
 if Virtue were as universal as vice is ? It would only 
 follow that, as the world now exclaims upon you for 
 exalting the vicious, it would then rail as fast at you 
 for depressing the virtuous ; so they would still keep 
 their tune, though you changed the ditty. 
 
 Mercury. — The mists in which future events are 
 wrapp'd, 
 -against.] That oft succeed beside the purposes 
 
 Of him that works (his dull eyes not discerning 
 
 The first great Cause), ofFer'd thy clouded shape 
 
 To his enquiring search ; so in the dark 
 
 The groping world first found thy Deity, 
 
 And gave thee rule over contingencies. 
 
 Which to the piercing ej^e of Providence 
 
 Being fixed and certain, where past and to-come 
 
 Are always present, thou do'st disappear, 
 
 Losest thy l^eing, and art not at all. 
 
 Be thou then only a deluding Phantom, 
 
 At best a blind guide, leading blinder fools : 
 
 "VMio, would they but survey their mutual v,-ants, 
 
 And help each other, there were left no room 
 
 For thy vain aid. Wisdom, whose strong-built plots 
 
 Leave nought to hazard, mocks thy futile power ! 
 
 Industrious Labour drags thee by the locks, 
 
 Bound to his toiling Car, and, not attending 
 
 Till thou dispense, reaches his own reM'ard.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 153 
 
 Only tlie lazy sluggard yawning lies 
 Before thy threshold, gaping for thy dole, 
 And licks the easy hand that feeds his sloth ; 
 The shallow, rash, and unadvised man 
 Makes thee his stale, disburdens all the follies 
 Of his mis-guided actions on thy shoulders. 
 Vanish from hence, and seek those idiots out 
 
 That thy fantastic god-head hath allow'd, 
 
 And rule that giddy superstitious crowd. 
 
 Redone [Pleasure], a young woman with a shining face, 
 in a light lascivious habit, adorn'd with silver and 
 gold ; her temjales ci-own'd with a garland of Eoses, 
 and over that a Rainbow encircling her head down 
 to her shoulders. 
 
 Hedone enters. 
 
 Mercury. — What wanton 's this ? 
 Mourns. — This is the sprightly Lady Hedone ; a merry 
 gamester : this people call her Pleasure. ra. i. 1634, 
 
 L' youngster. 
 
 Pleasure. — The reasons (equal Judges) here alleged 
 By the dismiss'd Pretenders, all concur 
 To strengthen my just title to the Sphere. 
 Honour or Wealth, or the contempt of both, 
 Have in themselves no simple real good. 
 But as they are the means to purchase Pleasure : 
 The paths that lead to my delicious Palace. 
 They for my sake, I for mine own, am prized. 
 Beyond me nothing is ; I am the Goal, 
 The journey's end, to which the sweating world 
 And wearied Nature travel. For this the best 
 And wisest sect of all Philosophers [Epicureans. 
 
 Made me the seat of supreme happiness ; 
 And though some, more austere, upon my ruins [Stoics. 
 
 Did to the prejudice of Nature raise 
 Some petty low-built virtues, 'twas because 
 They wanted wings to reach my soaring pitch.
 
 154 THE POEMS OF 
 
 cf. Timon, iv. n Had they been Princes born, themselves had proved 
 
 Apamv!^us. J Of all mankind the most luxurious. 
 
 For those delights, vidiich to their low condition 
 
 Were obvious, they with greedy appetite 
 
 Suck'd and devour'd : from offices of State, 
 
 From cares of family, children, wife, hojses, fears, 
 
 Ketired, the churlish Cynic in his Tub 
 
 Enjoy'd those pleasures which his tongue defamed. 
 
 Nor am I rank'd 'mongst the superfluous goods ; 
 
 My necessary offices preserve 
 
 Each single man, and propagate the kind. 
 
 Then am I universal, as the light. 
 Or common air we breathe ; and since I am 
 The general desire of all mankind, 
 Civil Felicity must reside in me. 
 Tell me what rate my choicest pleasures bear 
 When, for the short delight of a poor draught 
 Of cheap cold water, great Lijsimachus 
 Rend'red himself slave to the Scythians ? 
 Should I the curious structure of my seats, 
 The art and beauty of my several objects, 
 Rehearse at large, your bounties would reserve 
 For every sense a proper constellation ; 
 But I present their Persons to your eyes. 
 Come forth, my subtle Organs of Delight ! 
 With changing figures please the curious eye, 
 And charm the ear with moving Harmony. 
 
 TJiey dance the seventh Anti-masque, of the Five Senses 
 
 Mercury.- — Bewitching Syren, gilded rottenness ! 
 Thou hast with cunning artifice display'd 
 Th' enamel'd outside and the honied verge 
 Of the fair Cup, where deadly poison hirks : 
 Within, a thousand sorrows dance the round ; 
 And like a shell. Pain circles thee without. 
 Grief is the shadow waiting on thy stejss. 
 Which, as thy joys 'gin tow'rds their West decline, 
 Doth to a Giant's spreading form extend
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 155 
 
 Thy Dwarfish stature. Thou thy self art Paiu ; 
 
 Greedy, intense Desire, and the keen edge 
 
 Of thy fierce AjDpetite oft strangles thee. 
 
 And cuts thy slender thread ; but still the tei-ror 
 
 And a^jprehension of thy hastj^ end 
 
 Mingles with Gall thy most refined sweets : 
 
 Yet thy Circean charms transform the world. 
 Captains, that have resisted war and death, 
 Nations, that over Fortune [oft] have triumph'd. 
 Are by thy magic made effeminate : 
 Empires, that knew no limit but the Poles, 
 Have in thy wanton lap melted away. 
 Thou wert the Author of the first excess 
 That drew this reformation on the gods. 
 Can'st thou then dream, those Powers that from heaven 
 
 have 
 Banish'd th' effect, will there enthrone the cause ? 
 
 To thy voluptuous den, fly, Witch, from hence ! 
 
 There dwell, for ever drown'd in brutish sense. 
 
 Momus. — I concur : and am grown so weary of these 
 tedious jjleadings, as I'll pack up too and be gone. 
 Besides, I see a crowd of other suitors pressing hither ; 
 I'll stop 'em, take their petitions, and prefer 'em above ; 
 and as I came in bluntly, without knocking, and 
 nobody bade me welcome, so I'll depart as abruptly, 
 without taking leave, and bid nobody farewell. 
 
 Mercury. — These, with forced reasons and strain'd 
 arguments. 
 Urge vain pretences, whilst your Actions plead, 
 And with a silent importunity 
 Awake the drowsy Justice of the gods, 
 To crown your deeds with immortality. 
 The growing Titles of your ancestors, 
 These Nations' glorious Acts, join'd to the stock 
 Of your own Royal virtues, and the clear 
 Keflex they take from th' imitation
 
 156 THE POEMS OF 
 
 Of your famed Court, make Honour's story full, 
 
 And have to that secure fix'd state advanced 
 
 Both you and them, to which the labouring world — 
 
 Wading through streams of blood — sweats to aspire. 
 
 Those Ancient Worthies of these famous Isles, 
 
 That long liave slej^t, in fresh and lively shapes 
 
 Shall straight appear, where you shall see your self 
 
 Circled with modern Heroes, who shall be 
 
 In Act, whatever elder times can boast, 
 
 Noble or Great, as they in Prophecy 
 
 Were all but what you are. Then shall you see 
 
 Tiie sacred hand of bright Eternity 
 
 Mould you to Stars, and fix you in the Sphere. 
 
 The Queen,! To you, your Royal half, to them she'll join 
 her ladies. J guch of this Train, as with industrious steps 
 
 In the fair prints your virtuous feet have made, 
 Though with unequal paces, follow you. 
 This is decreed by Jove, which my return 
 Shall see perform'd ; but first behold the rude 
 And old Abiders here, and in them view 
 The point from which your full perfections grew. 
 You naked, ancient, wild Inhabitants, 
 That breathed this air and jjress'd this flowery Earth, 
 Come from those shades where dwells eternal night. 
 And sue what wonders Time hath brought to light ! 
 
 Atlas and the Sphere vanish, and a new Scene appears, 
 of Mountains, whose eminent height exceed the 
 Clouds, wliich pass beneath them ; the lower parts 
 are wild and woody : out of this place comes forth 
 a more grave Anti-masque of Fids, the natural 
 Inhabitants of this Isle, ancient Scots and Irish : 
 text, 'Peiica.'j these dance a Pyrrhica, or martial dance. 
 
 [They dance the eighth Anti-masque; a Pyrrhic dance.']
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 157 
 
 When this Anti-masque was past, there l)egan to arise 
 out of the earth the top of a hill, which, by little 
 and little, grew to be a hnge Moiintain, that covered 
 all the Scene ; the under-part of this was wild and 
 craggy, and above somewhat more pleasant and 
 flourishing ; about the middle part of this Moun- 
 tain were seated the three kingdoms of England, 
 Scotland, and Ireland, all richly attired in regal 
 habits, appropriated to the several Nations, with 
 Crowns on their heads, and each of them bearing 
 the ancient Arms of the kingdoms they represented. 
 At a distance above these, sate a young man in 
 a white embroidered robe ; upon his fair hair an 
 olive garland, with wings at his shoulders, and 
 holding in his hand a Cornucopia filled with 
 corn and fruits, repi'esenting the Genius of these 
 kingdoms. 
 
 The First Song. 
 Genius. 
 
 Raise from these rocky cliffs your heads, 
 Brave Sons, and see where Glory spreads 
 Her glittering ivings ; where Majesty, 
 Crown'd with sweet smiles, shoots from her eye 
 Diffiusive joy ; where Good and Fair 
 United sit in Honotirs chair. 
 Call forth your aged Priests, and crystal streams, 
 To warm their hearts and waves in these bright beams ! 
 
 Kingdoms. 
 
 I. From your consecrated woods, 
 Holy Druids ; 2. Silver floods, 
 From your channels fringed with flowers, 
 
 3. Hither move ; forsake your bowers — 
 
 1. Strew'd with hallowed Oaken leaves, 
 BecFd with flags and sedgy sheaves — 
 
 2. And behold a ^oonder. 3. Say, 
 What do your duller eyes survey ?
 
 158 THE POEMS OF 
 
 Chorus of Druids and Rivers. 
 
 We see at once, in dead of night, 
 A Sun appear, and yet a bright 
 Noon-day springing from. Star-light. 
 
 Genius. 
 
 Look up, and see the darkened Sphere 
 Deprived of light 1 her eyes shine Here 
 
 Chorus. 
 These are more sparkLing than those were. 
 
 Kingdoms. 
 
 1. These shed a milder influence; 
 
 2. These by a pure intelligence 
 
 Of more transcendent Virtue move ; 
 
 3. These first feel, then kindle love ; 
 1, 2. From the bosoms they inspire, 
 
 These receive a mutual fire : 
 I, 2, 3. And where their flames impure return, 
 These can quench, as ivcll as burn. 
 
 Genius. 
 
 Sere the fair victorious eyes 
 
 Make Worth only Beauty s prize ; 
 
 Here the hand of Virtue ties 
 
 'Bout the heart Love's amorous chain: 
 
 Captives triumph, Vassals reign, 
 
 And none live here hut the slain. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 These arc th' Hesperian bowers, whose fair trees bear 
 Rich golden fruit, and yet no Dragon near.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 159 
 
 Genius. 
 
 Then from your imprisoning ivomb, 
 Which is the cradle and the tomb 
 Of British Worthies, fair Sons .' send 
 A troop of Heroes, that may lend 
 Their hands to ease this loaden grove. 
 And gather the ripe fruits of Love. 
 
 Kingdoms, 
 
 I, 2, 3. Open thy stony entrails wide. 
 
 And break, old Atlas, that the pride 
 Of Three famed Kingdoms may be spied. 
 
 Chohus. 
 
 Pace forth, thou, mighty British Hercules, 
 With thy choice band, for only thou and these 
 May revel here in LOVE'8 Hesperides. 
 
 At this, the under-part of the Eock opens, and out of a 
 Cave are seen to come the Masquers, richly attired 
 like ancient Heroes, the colours yellow, embroidered 
 with silver, their antique Helms curiously wrought, 
 and great plumes on the top ; before them a troop 
 of young Lords and Noblemen's sons, bearing [Cf. p. 168. 
 torches of virgin-wax. These were ajjparelled 
 after the old British fashion in white Coats, em- 
 broidered with silver, girt, and full gathered, cut 
 square-collared, and round caj)S on their heads, 
 with a white feather wreathen about them. First 
 these dance with the lights in their hands, after 
 which the Mascpiers descend into tlie room, and 
 dance their entiy. 
 
 The dance being past, there appears in the further part 
 of the heaven coming down a pleasant Cloud, bright 
 and transparent ; which, coming softly downwards 
 before the upper part of the mountain, embraceth 
 the Genius, but so as through it all his body is seen.
 
 160 THE POEMS OF 
 
 Then the Cloud, rising again with a gentle motion, 
 bears np the Genius of the Three Kingdoms, and 
 being past the Airy Region, pierceth the heavens, 
 and is no more seen ; at that instant, the Rock 
 with the three kingdoms on it sinks, and is hidden 
 in the earth. This strange spectacle gave great 
 cause of admiration, but especially how so huge a 
 machine, and of that great height, could come from 
 under the Stage, which was but six foot high. 
 
 The Second Song. 
 Kingdoms. 
 
 1 . Here are shapes form'd fit for heaven ; 
 
 2. These move gracefully and even. 
 
 3. Here the Air and paces meet, 
 So just, as if the skilful feet 
 
 Had struck the Viols. — i, 2, 3. So the ear 
 Miyht the tuneful footing hear. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 And had the Music silent been, 
 The eye a moving tune had seen. 
 
 Genids. 
 
 These nuist in the unpeopled sky 
 Succeed, and govern Destiny : 
 Jove is tempering p)urer fire, 
 And will with brighter flames attire 
 These glorious lights. I must ascend, 
 And help the Work. 
 
 Kingdoms. 
 
 I. We cannot lend 
 Heaven so much treasure, 2. Nor that pay. 
 But rend'ring what it takes away. 
 Why shoidd they, that here can move 
 So ivell, be cverfix'd above?
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 161 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Or he to one eternal posture tied, 
 
 That can into such various ^[/ures slide? 
 
 Genius. 
 
 Jove shall not, to eyirich the Sly, 
 Beggar the Earth : their Fame shall fly 
 From hence alone, and in the Sphere 
 Kindle new Stars, whilst they rest here. 
 
 Kingdoms. 
 
 I, 2, 3. How can the shaft stay in the quiver, 
 Yet hit the mark ? 
 
 Genius. 
 
 Did not the River 
 Efidanus the grace acquire 
 
 In Heaven and Earth to flow : 
 Above in streams of golden fire, 
 
 In silver waves below ? 
 
 Kingdoms. 
 
 1 , 2, 3. But shall not ice, now thou art gone 
 Who wert our Nattire, wither. 
 Or breaJc that triple Union 
 Which thy soul held together ? 
 
 Genius. 
 
 In ConconVs pure immortal spring 
 
 I ivill my force renew, 
 And a more active Virtue bring 
 
 At my return. Adieu. 
 
 Kingdoms. Adieu.— Cho^v^. Adieu. 
 
 L
 
 162 THE POEMS OF 
 
 The Masquers dance tlieir main dance ; which done, 
 the Scene again is varied into a new and jjlea- 
 sant prospect, clean differing from all the other ; 
 the nearest part shewing a delicious garden, with 
 several walks and parterras set round with low 
 trees, and on tlie sides, against these walks, were 
 fountains and grots, and in the farthest part 
 a Palace, from whence went high walks ujson 
 Arches, and above them open Terraces planted 
 with Cypress trees ; and all this together was 
 comi^osed of such Ornaments as might express a 
 Princely Villa. 
 
 From hence the Chorus, descending into the room, goes 
 up to the State. 
 
 The Third Song. 
 
 By the Chorus going up to the Queen. 
 
 Whilst thus the darlings of the Gods 
 
 From Honour's Tei)i])le, to the Shrine 
 0/ Beauty, and these sweet abodes 
 
 Of Love, we guide, let thy Divine 
 Aspects, bright Deity/ with fair 
 And Halcyon beams becalm, the air. 
 
 We bring Prince Arthur, or the brave 
 St. George himself, great Queen ! to ijou : 
 
 You'll soon discern him ; and we have 
 A Guy, a Bevis, or some true 
 
 Round- Table Knight, as ever fought 
 
 For Lady, to each Beauty brought. 
 
 Plant in your martial hands, War's seat, 
 Your peaceful pledges ofv-arm snow, 
 
 And, if a speaking touch repeat 
 
 In Love's known language tales of woe, 
 
 Say, in soft lohinpiers of the Palm, 
 
 ^ As Eyes shoot darts, so Lips shed balm.'
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 163 
 
 For tho^ujh you seem, like Captives, led 
 
 In triumph by the Foe away. 
 Yet on the Conqu'ror's neck you tread. 
 
 And the fierce Victor proves your prey ; 
 What heart is then secure from you, 
 That can, though vanquished, yet subdue ? 
 
 The Song done, they retire, and the Masqiiers dance the 
 Eevels with the Ladies, which continued a great 
 part of the night. 
 
 The ReA'els being past, and the King's Majesty seated 
 under the State by the Queen, for Conclusion to 
 this Masque there apj)ears coming forth from one 
 of the sides, as moving by a gentle wind, a great 
 Cloud, which, arriving at the middle of the heaven, 
 stayeth ; this was of several colours, and so great, 
 that it covered the whole Scene. Out of the farther 
 l^art of the heaven, began to break forth two other 
 Clouds, differing in colour and shape ; and being 
 fully discovered, there ajspeared sitting in one of 
 them Religion, Truth, ancl Wisdom. Religion was 
 ajjparelled in white, and part of her face was 
 covered with a light veil, in one hand a book, and 
 in the other a flame of fire : Truth in a Watchet [Blue. 
 Robe, a Sun upon her fore-head, and bearing in 
 her hand a Palm ; Wisdom in a mantle wrought 
 with eyes and hands, golden rays about her head, 
 and Apollo's Cithera in her hand. In the other [Lyre, or Lute. 
 Cloud sate Concord, Government, and Reputation. 
 The habit of Concord was Carnation, bearing in 
 her hand a little faggot of sticks bound together, 
 and on the top of it a heart, and a garland of corn 
 on her head. Government was tigured in a coat 
 of Armour, bearing a shield, and on it a Medusa's 
 head ; upon her [own] head a plumed helm, and 
 in her right hand a Lance. Reputation, a young
 
 164 THE POEMS OF 
 
 man in a purple robe wrought with gold, and 
 wearing a laurel wreath on his head. These being 
 come down in an equal distance to the middle part 
 of the Air, the great Cloud began to break open, 
 out of which struck beams of light ; in the midst, 
 susjjended in the Air, sate Eternity on a Globe ; 
 his garment was long, of a light blue, wrought all 
 over with Stars of gold, and bearing in his hand 
 a Serpent bent into a circle, with his tail in his 
 mouth. In the firmament about him was a troop 
 of fifteen stars, expressing the stellifying of our 
 British Heroes ; but one more great and eminent 
 than the rest, which was over his head, figured his 
 Majesty. And in the lower part was seen, afar off, 
 the prospect of Windsor Castle, the famous seat of 
 the most honourable Order of the Garter. 
 
 The Fourth Song. 
 
 Eternity, Eusebeia, Aletheia, Sophia, Homonoia, 
 dlceaeche, euphemia. 
 
 Eternity. 
 
 Be fixed, you rapid Orhs, that hear 
 The changing seasons of the year 
 On your s%oift wings, and see the old 
 Decrepit Sphere grown dark and cold; 
 Nor did Jove quench her fires : these bright 
 Flames have eclipsed her sidlen light : 
 This Royal Pair, for whom Fate will 
 Make Motion cease, and Time stand still .- 
 
 Since Good is here so perfect, as no Worth 
 
 Is left for After-Ages to bring forth. 
 
 Eusebeia. 
 
 Mortality ca,nnot with more 
 Religious zeal the Gods adore.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 165 
 
 Aletheia. 
 
 My Truths, from human ei/es conceal'd, 
 Are naked to their sight reveaVd. 
 
 Sophia. 
 
 Nor do their Actions from the guide 
 Of my exactest jirccepts slide. 
 
 HOMONOIA. 
 
 And as their oivn jmre Soids entivined, 
 So are their Subjects' hearts combined. 
 
 DlC^AKCHE, 
 
 So just, so gentle is their sway. 
 As it seems Empire to obey. 
 
 EUPHEMIA. 
 
 And their fair Fame, like incense hurVd 
 On Altars, hath perfum'd the tvorld. 
 
 Soph., TFi'scJom/— Aleth., Trwi/t .-— Euse., Pure Adoration : 
 HoM., Concord: — Dic^E., Rule: — Euphem., Clear Reputation . 
 
 Chorus. 
 Crown this King, this Queen, this Nation I 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Wisdom, truth, pure adoration. 
 Concord, rule, clear rtjiutation: 
 Croivn this King, this Queen, this Nation ! 
 
 Eternity. 
 
 Brave Spirits, whose advcnCrous feet 
 Have to the Mountains top aspired, 
 
 Where fair Desert and Honour meet. 
 Herefrom the toiling press retired, 
 
 Secure from all dislurhing evil, 
 
 For ever in my Temple revel.
 
 166 THE POEMS OF 
 
 With wreaths of Stars circhd about. 
 Gild all the spacious firmament, 
 
 And, smiling on the panting Rout 
 That lahour in the steep ascent, 
 
 With your resistless influence guide 
 
 Ofhuvum cha/nge th' uncertain tide. 
 
 EUSEBEIA, AlETHEIA, SoPHIA. 
 
 But oh, you Royal Turtles, shed. 
 When you from Earth remove, 
 
 On the ripe fruit of your chaste bed 
 Those sacred seeds of Love. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Which 710 Poiver can hut yours dispense. 
 Since you the pattern bear from hence. 
 
 HOMOXOIA, DlCEARCHE, ECPHEMIA. 
 
 Stuart race.] Thc7i from your fi'uitful race shall flow 
 
 Endless Succession : 
 Sceptres shall bud, and laurels blovj 
 About their immortal Throne. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Prop)itious Stars shall cvoion each birth, 
 Whilst you rule t/iem, and they the Earth. 
 
 The Song ended, tlie two Clouds, with the per.son.s 
 sitting on them, ascend ; the great Cloud closeth 
 again, and so passeth away overthwart the Scene, 
 leaving behind it nothing but a serene Sky. After 
 which, the Masquers danced their last dance, and 
 the Curtain was let fall.
 
 THOMAS GAREW. 
 
 167 
 
 The Names of the Masquers. 
 
 The Kino'; 
 Duke of Lennox, 
 Earl of Devonshire, 
 Earl of Holland, 
 Earl of Newport, 
 Earl of Er.GiN, 
 Viscount Grandison, 
 Lord Rich, 
 
 Majesty. 
 
 Lord Feildino, 
 
 Lord DiGBY, 
 
 Lord DiTNGARVAN', 
 
 Lord Dunluce, 
 Lord Wharton, 
 Lord Paget, 
 Lord Salton. 
 
 The Names of the young Lords and Noble- 
 men's Sons. 
 
 Lord Walden, 
 
 Lord Cranborne, 
 
 Lord Brackley, 
 
 Lord Chandos, 
 
 Mr. William Hekbert, 
 
 Mr. Thomas Howard, 
 Mr. Thomas Egerton, 
 Mr. Charles Cavendish, 
 Mr. Robert Howard, 
 Mr. Henry Spencer. 
 
 — e^A**— 
 
 The Songs and Dialogues in this Book [GoiJii'm 
 Britcmnicuin] were set witli ajst Tunes to them, by- 
 Mr. Henry Lawes, one of His Majesty's Musician.s. 
 
 \_TKis notice, of the Composer, was omitted from the Masque, 
 editio princeps, 1634 ; and first added in the 1640 edition 
 of Careiv''s Poems.] 
 
 FINIS.
 
 EXTRA POEMS FROM MANUSCRIPTS 
 
 MORE OR LESS AUTHENTICATED.
 
 EXTRA POEMS, FROM MANUSCRIPTS. 
 
 (More or less doubtful, or authenticated.) 
 
 To HIS Mistress retiring in Affection. 
 [In British Museum Addit. MS., 11811, fol. 6.] 
 
 FLY not from him whose silent misery 
 Breathes many an unwltness'd sigh to thee, 
 Who having felt thy scorn, yet constant is, 
 And whom thou hast thy self called only his. 
 
 When first mine eyes threw flames, whose spirit 
 
 moved thee, 
 Had'st thou not look'd again I had not loved thee. 
 
 Nature did ne'er two different things unite 
 With peace, Avhicli are by Nature opposite. 
 If thou force Nature, and be backward gone, 
 0, blame not me, that strive to draw thee on : 
 
 But if uiy constant love shall fail to move thee. 
 Then know my reason hates thee, though 1 love thee. 
 
 On his Mistress looking in a Glass. 
 
 [This version, Harleian MS. 6057, fol. 8, 9, (ujrees with 
 ' A Looking Glass ' of p. 16, in first and second stanzas : 
 hut differs in the remainder, addinrj a seventh. Also in 
 Cosens' MS., A. 4to, to which the marginalia refer.] 
 
 THIS flattering Glass, whose smootli face wears 
 Your shadow, where a sun ajipears. 
 
 Was once a River of my tears, 
 
 171
 
 172 THE POEMS OF 
 
 «.. I. 'they.'] About your cold heart that did make 
 A circle, wliere the briny lake 
 CongeaFd into a Crystal cake 
 
 This Glass and shadow seem to say, 
 ' Like us, the beauties you survey 
 a. I. 'or fly.'] Will quickly break, and fly away.' 
 
 Since then my tears can only show 
 You your own face, you cannot know 
 How fair you are, but by my woe. 
 
 Nor had the world else known your name, 
 But that my sad verse spread the fame 
 Of thee, most fair and cruel dame ! 
 
 Forsake but your disdainful mind, 
 And in mv sonsfs the world shall find 
 
 •'^O' 
 
 That you are not more fair than kind. 
 
 Change but your scorn : my verse shall chase 
 Decay far from you, and your face 
 Shall shine with an immortal grace. 
 
 Th. C. 
 
 Excuse of Absence. 
 [In Cosens' MS. ; not dsetchcre. Probably genuine.] 
 
 YOU'LL ask, j^erhaps, wherefore I stay, 
 Loving so much, so long away ? 
 do not think 'twas I did part, 
 It was my body, not my heart ; 
 For, like a Compass, on your love 
 One foot is fixed, and cannot move : 
 Th' other may follow the blind guide 
 Of giddy Fortune, but not slide 
 ' Venter. '] Beyond your service, nor dare venture 
 
 To wander far from you, the centre. T. C.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 173 
 
 A Lady's Prayer to Cupid. 
 
 [From J. Cotgrave's 'Wit's Interpreter,' p. ii6, 1655 ; 
 p. 223, 167 1 : and, like the preceding pnem, signed with 
 Carevv's initials, 'T. C.,' in the late F. W. Cosens' MS.] 
 
 SINCE I must leeds into thy School return, 
 Be pitiful, Love, and do not burn 
 Me with desire of cold and frozen Age, 
 Nor let me follow a fond boy or page. 
 
 But, gentle Cupid, give me, if you can. 
 One to my love whom I may call a man ; 
 Of person comely, and of face as sweet, 
 Let him be sober, secret, and discreet. 
 
 Well practis'd in Love's school : let him within 
 Wear all his beard, and none upon his chin. 
 
 T. C. 
 
 Another Version op the Eibbon, 
 
 [Compare p. 26, for the 1640 ed. printed text.— Cosens' MS. 
 B. obi. 80, aw early inaccurate version, differs thus :] 
 
 THIS silken wreath, which circles in mine arm, 
 Is but an Emblem of that mystic charm, t-' that mis- 
 
 Wherewith the magic of your beauty binds Ltake : ' c. 
 
 My captive heart, and round about it winds 
 
 Fetters of lasting love ; that doth entwine 
 
 My flesh alone : this makes my soul your shrine. 
 Consuming age may those weak bonds divide. 
 But this strong charm no eye shall see untied. 
 To that, as to a relic, I may give 
 An outward worship ; but by this I live. 
 
 My daily sacrifice and pray'rs to this : 
 
 There I but pray a superstitious kiss. 
 That is the Idol, this the deity : 
 Eeligion here is due, there. Ceremony :
 
 174 THE POEMS OF 
 
 I am to this, that's given to my trust, 
 Tliere I may tribute pay, [but] there I must. 
 That order as a layman 1 may bear ; 
 But I become Love's priest when this 1 wear. 
 1 over this, that over me commands : 
 This knot your Virtue ties ; but that, your hands. 
 This Nature made, but that was made by Art : 
 This makes my arm your prisoner, that, my heart 
 
 When the Snow Fell. 
 
 {This poem is from Ashmole MS. 38, art. il, unsigned, and 
 following ' The Amorous Fly ' — ' While this fly lived,' 
 etc., our p. 34. It is jtrinted in 'Wit's Recreations,' 
 1645 ; and 'Wit's Interpreter,' 1655, 1671 ; hut there, 
 and elsewhere, the reading is, ' I saw fair Chloris walk 
 alone,' which suggests Robert Herrick as the author, 
 whose style it resemhles. It teas not included among the 
 ' Hesperides ' of Herrick ; it teas jjossibly written by 
 WilUam Munsey {who wrote ' In the non-age of a 
 winter's day,' for Lawes' Ayres). The title was, ' Chloris 
 walking in the Snow.' To it music was composed by 
 Henry Purcell ; aho by Christopher Simpson, in John 
 Playf ord's ' Musical Companion,' p. 49, 1673 ; but 
 Purcell's was in Henry Playf ord's 'Theater of Musick,' 
 Part iii. p. 20, 1686.] 
 
 I 
 
 SAW fair C'elia walk alone ; 
 When feather'd rain came softly down, 
 al. led. 'AndJ.'j As Jove descending from his Tower 
 
 To court her in a silver shower : 
 The wanton snow flew to her breast, 
 Like pretty birds into their nest. 
 But overcome with whiteness there, 
 ' g. dissolv'd.'] For grief it thaw'd into a tear : 
 
 Thence falling on her garments' hem, 
 ' freezd.'] To deck her, froze into a Gem.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 175 
 
 Ode. 
 
 [This is from A&hniole MS. 36, art. 198: ivhere it follows 
 ' The Rapture,' now reprinted on our p, 45.] 
 
 pHILLIS, though thy powerful chai'ms 
 •^ Have f .reed me from my Celiacs arms — 
 A sure defence against all powers 
 But those resistless eyes of yours — 
 Think not your conquest to maintain 
 By rigour or unjust disdain ; 
 
 In vain, fair Nymph, in vain you strive, 
 For love doth seldom hope survive. 
 
 The Mournful Parting of Two Lovers, 
 Caused by the Disproportion of their Estates. 
 
 [Subscribed 'T. Car.' by a copyist, not original autograph, 
 this poem is preserved in Harleian MS. 6057, fol. 6 verso, 
 and 7 recto. There can be no reasonable doubt here: 
 the internal evidence marJcs it to be by Carew.] 
 
 MY once dear love, hajjless that I no more 
 Must call thee so, the rich affection's store 
 That fed our hopes lies now exhaust and spent. 
 Like sums of treasure unto bankrupts lent. 
 
 We, that did nothing study, but the way 
 To love each other : with which thoughts the day 
 Rose with delights to us, and with them set : 
 Must learn the hateful art — how to forget. 
 
 We, that did nothing wish, tliat heaven might give 
 Beyond ourselves, nor did desire to live 
 Beyond that night : all this now cancel must, 
 As is not writ in faith, but words and dust. 
 
 But witness those clear vows which lovers make : 
 Witness the chaste desires that never break 
 Into unruly heats : witness that breast 
 Which in thy bosom anchor'd his whole rest,
 
 176 THE POEMS OF 
 
 'Tis no default in us : I dare acquit 
 
 Thy maiden faith, thy jDurjwse fair and white 
 
 As thy pure self. Close planets did conspire 
 
 Our sweet felicity and hearts' desire, 
 
 Faster than vows could bind, so that the star 
 
 (When lovers meet) should stand opposed in war. 
 
 Since then some higher destinies command, 
 Let us not stir or labour to withstand 
 Wliat is past helj) : the longest date of grief 
 Can never yield a hope of our relief. 
 And tliough we waste our selves in moist laments, 
 Tears may drown us, but not our discontents. 
 
 Fold back our arms ; take Honour's fruitless loves. 
 That must new fortunes try, like turtle-doves 
 Dislodged from their haunt : we must in tears 
 Unwind our loves, knit up in many years. 
 
 In this last kiss I here surrender thee 
 Back to thy self. Lo ! thou again art free. 
 u.i. anoth. Bad.] Thou in another kiss, as sad, resign'd 
 
 The truest heart that Lover e'er did bind. 
 
 Now turn from each, so far, our sever'd hearts. 
 As the divorced soul from the body parts. 
 
 T. Car. 
 
 A Health to my Mistress. 
 
 {This, with title as above, is from Harleian MS. 6057, fol. 
 7 verso, ivith the signature ' Th. Car. ' It is printed 
 anonymously in J. Cotgrave's 'Wit's Interpreter,' p. 42, 
 1655 ; p. 148, 1671, as 'A Health to his Mistress.'] 
 
 TO her whose beauty doth excel 
 , Story, we toss these cups, and sell 
 
 Sobriety, a Sacrifice, 
 To the bright lustre of her eyes, 
 'alps this," y6id.] Each soul that sips here is divine : 
 
 Her beauty deifies the wine. Th. Car.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. Ill 
 
 To HIS [Inconstant Mistress. 
 
 [Not included in any printed editions of Carew before 1 870. 
 From Harl. MS. 6057, fol. 1 1 vo, and 12, sifjnedTh. Car.] 
 
 BUT say, you very woman ! wliy to me 
 The tit of weakness and inconstancy ? 
 
 What forfeit have I made of word or vow, 
 
 That I am rack'd with thy displeasure now ? 
 
 If I have done a fault I do not shame 
 
 To cite it from thy lips : Give it a name. 
 
 I ask the Banns : stand forth and tell me, why ? 
 
 Did thy cloy'd appetite urge thee to try 
 
 If any other man could do 't as 1 1 — 
 
 I see friends are as clothes, laid up whilst new, 
 
 But after wearing cast, though ne'er so true. 
 
 Or did thy fierce ambition long to make 
 
 Some lover turn a mailyr for thy sake ? — 
 
 Thinking thy beauty had deserved no name. 
 
 Unless some one had perish'd in the flame ; 
 
 Upon whose loving dust this sentence lies : 
 * Here one was murder' d by his Mistress' eyes ? ' 
 
 Or was't because my love to thee was such 
 I could not choose but blab it — swear how much 
 I was thy slave, and, doting, let thee know 
 I better could my self than thee forego ? 
 
 Hearken, ye men ! that so shall love like me : 
 I'll give you counsel gratis ! if you be 
 Possess'd of what you like, let your fair friend 
 Lodge in your bosom, l)ut no secrets send 
 To seek their lodging in a female breast. 
 For so much is abated of your rest. 
 
 The steed that comes to understand his strength 
 Grows wild, and casts his manager at length ; 
 And the tame lover that unlocks his heart 
 Unto his Mistress, teaches her an art 
 
 To plague himself : shows her the secret way ['iilungeliims. 
 
 How she may tyrannise another day. 
 
 M
 
 178 THE POEMS OF 
 
 And now, my fair Unkindness thus to thee ! 
 Mark how wise passion and I agree : 
 Hear, and be sorry for't : I will not die 
 To expiate thy crime of levity. 
 
 I walk (not cross-arm'd, neither), eat, and live ; 
 Yea, for to pity thy neglect — not grieve, 
 Nor envy him that by my loss hath won, 
 That thou art from thy faith and promise gone. 
 Thou shalt believe thy changing moon-like fits 
 Have not infected me, nor turn'd my wits 
 To Lunacy : I do not mean to weep, 
 When I should eat ; or sigh, when I should sleep. 
 I will not fall upon my j^ointed quill, 
 Bleed ink, and Poems or Invention spill, 
 To contrive ballads, or weave elegies, 
 For nurses' wearings when the infant cries ; 
 T. & heiiit.] Nor, like th' enamour'd Tristrams of the time. 
 Despair in prose, or hang myself in rhyme ; 
 Nor thither run upon my verses' feet, 
 'V\1iere I shall none but fools and madmen meet : 
 Who 'midst the silent shades and myrtle walks, 
 Pule and do penance for their Mistress' faults. 
 
 I'm none of those Poetic malcontents, 
 Born to make paper dear with my laments, 
 Ori. Furioso.] Or vile Orlando, that will rail and vex, 
 
 And for thy sake fall out with all thy sex. 
 No : I will love again, and seek a jjrize 
 That shall redeem me from thy poor despise ; 
 I'll court my fortune now in such a shape 
 That will not feign die, nor stern choler take. 
 Thus launch I off with triumph from thy shore, 
 To which my last Farewell ! for never more 
 Will I touch there ; or put to sea again. 
 Blown with the churlish wind of thy disdain. 
 Nor will I stop the course till I have found 
 A coast that yields safe harbour and firm ground.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 179 
 
 Smile ye, Love's stars ! wiug'd with desires, fly 
 To make my wished-for discovery : 
 
 Nor doubt I biit for one that proves like you, 
 I shall find ten '.s fair, and yet more true. 
 
 Th. Car. 
 
 [' The Enquiry ' — ' Amongst the myrtles as I walked,' [Cf. p. 228. 
 was given among Carew's, on our p. 65 ; and also ' The 
 Primrose' — 'Ask nie vvliy I send you here,' on p. 73; 
 alihough both of thou were included among Robert Herrick's 
 ' Hesperides,' 1648, and strongly resemhlc his stifle. Both 
 belong to the posthnmoiis 1640 edition o/Carew, pp. 170, 188, 
 where ' The Primrose ' is a superior version. Did Carew 
 aiul Herrlck write it, conjointly, in friendly emulation ? We 
 distrust Herrick's variations, which are later and tveaker.'\ 
 
 Verses. 
 
 [From Mr. Wyburd's MS., ^chcre they immediately precede the 
 Song of p. 69, ' Ask me no more where Joix bestows : ' 
 a poem indisputably Carew's ; one often parodied in Civil- 
 War time, e.g. 'Ask me no more why there appears' 
 {see pp. 232, 183). Imitated, without achwwhdgment, 
 by Alfred Tennyson, in second edition of his 'Princess.' 
 These Ve7'ses are fragmentary. The authorship seems to 
 be worse than doubtful ; v:ithout true claim on Carew. 
 Included in the Roxburghe Library edition, 1870, they 
 are retained, under protest, and not accepted as Carew's.] 
 
 HE gave her Jewels in a Cui3 of Gold, 
 Wherein were graven stories done of old ; 
 And in his hand he held a book, which show'd 
 The birth-stars of the City, where Brute plough'd 
 The furrows for the wall : on every page 
 A King was drawn, his fortune and his age ; 
 But she liked best, and loved to see again 
 The British Princes that had marched with Spain, 
 
 Thus enter'd she the Court, where every one 
 
 To entertain her made provision.
 
 180 THE POEMS OF 
 
 [Thus far ive might hclieve the fragment held some Courlly 
 reference to the Queen Henrietta Maria, in symjMthy with 
 her antecedent rival, the Infanta of Spain. What follows is 
 mere rambling incoherence : in no icay resembling Carew. To 
 print the lines is virtually to condemn them.] 
 
 'Nays,' MS.] Na'is liad angled all the night, and took 
 
 The Trout, the Gudgeon with her .silver hook : 
 
 The Graces all were hnsj in the Downs, 
 
 In gathering sallets and in wreathing crowns : 
 
 The wood-nymphs ran about, and, while 'twas dark, 
 
 cf. Nam, s. v.] With light and lowe-bell caught the amazed Lark : 
 One with some hair.s, pluck'd from a Centaur's tail, 
 Made springes for the woodcock in the dale : 
 One spread her net the Coney to ensnare : 
 Another with her hounds pursued the hare. 
 Diana, early, with her bugle clear, 
 Armed with a quiver, .shot the fallow deer. 
 The stately Stag, hit with her fatal shaft, 
 Shed tears in falling, while the Huntress laugh'd. 
 All sent their gains to Hymen for a present, 
 The Buck, the Partridge, and the painted Pheasant ; 
 And Jove, to grace the feast of Hymen's joy, 
 Sent thither Nectar by his Trojan Boy. 
 
 caura desunt.] -pj^g Graces and the Dryades were there, etc. 
 
 The Hue and Cry. 
 
 {This version, ichich is the earlier-printed by seven years, 
 differs so greatly from the one similarly -named on our 
 p. 71, reprinted from p. 184 of ' Carew's Poems,' 1640, 
 editio princeps, tliat the reproduction of both is necessary. 
 There need be no hesitation in assigning solely to Carew 
 their authorship, although the present version appeared 
 in James Shirley's 'Wittie Fair One,' 1633, a comedy 
 acted so early as 1628. ' Would you know what's soft? ' 
 p. 70, and 'To his Mistress Confined,' on p. 72, both of 
 them by Carew, no less confusingly adorn Shirley's 
 play, mixed loith his own work, and not disclaimed. 
 Perhaps the friends joined in writing the Hue and Cry.]
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 181 
 
 IN Love's name yon are charged hereby 
 To make a speedy Hue and Cry 
 After a face, which t'other day 
 Came and stole my heart away. 
 For your directions, in brief, 
 These are best marks to know the thief : 
 Her hair a net of beams would pi-ove. 
 Strong enougli to captive Jove, 
 Playing the Eagle : her clear brow 
 Is a comely field of snow. 
 A sparkling eye, so pure a grey, 
 As when it shines it needs no day. 
 Ivory dwelleth on her nose ; 
 Lilies married to the Rose 
 Have made her cheek the nuptial bed ; 
 Lips betray their virgins' weed : 
 As they only blush'd for this, 
 That they one another kiss. 
 But observe, beside the rest, 
 You shall know this felon best 
 By her tongue ; for if your ear 
 Shall once a heavenly music hear. 
 Such as neither gods nor men 
 But from that voice t^hall hear again, 
 
 That, that is she : oh, take her t' ye ; 
 
 None can rock heaven asleep but she. 
 
 [Variations of this song, in Shirley's Poems, 1646 : — ■ 
 Dress'd iu his Eagle's shape : Her brow 
 Is a spacious field of snow : 
 Her eyes so rich, so pure a grey, 
 Every look creates a day. 
 And if they close tliemselves (uot when 
 The Suu doth set) 'tis night again. 
 In her cheeks are to be seen 
 Of flowers both the King and Queen, 
 Thither by all the Graces led, 
 And smiling iu their nuptial bed. 
 On whom, like pretty nymphs, do wait, 
 Her twin-born lips, whose virgin state 
 They do deplore themselves, nor miss 
 To blush, so often as they kiss, 
 Without a man. Beside the rest, etc.^
 
 182 THE POEMS OF 
 
 Another Hub anb Cry. 
 
 {We utterly disbelieve that this can possibly be by Thomas 
 Carew. It has no authentication whatever, beyond the 
 fact of its presence in i/r. Wyburd's MS., along with 
 several indisputable works by Cai-ew ; all more or less 
 inaccurately transcribed, the variations being generally 
 corruptions of text. It someivhat resembles ' Beauties, 
 have you seen a toy, called Love, a winged Boy ? ' 
 which is in 'Prince D'Amour,' 1660. The song ivas 
 written by Ben Jonson, and printed in his ' Hue and 
 Cry after Cupid : ' a Masque, with Nuptial- Songs, on 
 the Lord Viscount Haddington's marriage, 1608: Henry 
 Lavfes composed fresh music to it. Earlier, in 1 605, 
 came 'The Cryer,' beginning 'Good folk, for gold or 
 hire, but help iiie to a cryer : ' printed by Anderson 
 as Michael Drayton's, in Brit. Poets, iii. 585, 1793.] 
 
 C"^ OOD folk, for gold or hire, One help me to a Crier ; 
 ^ For my poor heart is gone astray, 
 After two eyes that j)ass'd this way. 
 If there be any man, in town or country can 
 Bring me my heart again, I'll pay him for his pain. 
 And by these marks I will you show 
 That only I this heart do owe, 
 =own.] It is a wounded Hart, wherein yet sticks the dart ; 
 Maim'd in every part throughout it, 
 ' Faith and Troth ' writ about it : 
 = heart.] It was a tame Hart and a Dear, and never used to roam ; 
 But having got this haunt, I fear, 'twill never bide at 
 home. 
 For God's sake, passing by the way. 
 
 If you my heart do see, 
 Either impound it for a stray, 
 Or send it home to me.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 183 
 
 [' The Hue and Cry ' of the Carew-Shirley lines is trans- 
 ferred into a search for the Lady, instead of after Cupid. 
 AH these versions had been suggested hy one original, viz. 
 this of E/jws ApaireT7]s = Cupid, by Moschus, his first Idyll. 
 Tasso dretv his Amor Fugitive /rom the same source : — 
 
 ApaTreriSas e/xos eariv' 6 /xavvTa^ yepas e^ei 
 
 MicrOos TOi TO 0/\a/.ta rb KvTrpi.Oos' ijv 5" aya,yri^ viv, 
 
 Oil yv/J-fOf rb (piXa/xa, tv d\ w ^^ve, /cat ttX^c e^eis] 
 
 To CCELIA. 
 
 [A short version of the Carew Sovg on p. 77, beginning 
 similarly, but here reprinted as in J. Cotgrave's ' Wit's 
 Interpreter,' p. 28, 1655 '■> P- I33> 1671] 
 
 RISE, lovely Coslia, and be kind, 
 Let my desires freedom find ; 
 And we'll nirake the Gods confess. 
 Mortals enjoy some happiness : 
 Sit thee down. 
 Cupid hath but one l^ow, yet can I spy 
 A thousand Cupids in thy eye ; 
 
 Nor may the Gods behold our bliss, 
 For sure thine eyes do darken his. 
 If thou fearest, 
 That he'll betray thee with his light, 
 
 Let me eclipse thee [from] his sight ; [^f^sp. 'with." 
 
 And whilst I shade thee from his eye. 
 Oh ! let me hear thee gently cry, 
 ' I yield ! ' 
 
 [Compare the ' Princess ' song, suggested by Carew, ending — 
 ' Ask me no more : thy fate and mine are seaVd : 
 I strove against the stream and all in vain : 
 Let the great river take me to the main : 
 No mo7-e, dear love, for at a touch I yield : 
 
 Ask me no more ! ' Qf- PP- 69, 179.I
 
 184 THE POEMS OF 
 
 [This Prologiie and this Epilogue to an Entertainment at 
 Whitehall — probably the same which had included the ' Four 
 Songs ' given on pp. 56-61 — form the most important addition 
 to Carew's itoems furnished by 3Ir. Wyburd's MS., wherein 
 alone they ivere preserved. Thomas Killigrew recorded that 
 ' The Ma.sque ' was acted {like ' Coelum Britannicum ') in 
 1633.] 
 
 The Prologue to a Play presented before the 
 
 King and Queen, at an Entertainment op 
 
 them by the Lord Chamberlain, at 
 
 Whitehall. [1633.] 
 
 SONG. 
 
 S 
 
 Sir, 
 INCE you have pleased this night t' unbend 
 
 Your serious thoughts, and with your Person lend 
 
 Your Palace out, and so ai'e hither brought 
 A stranger : in your own house not at home ; 
 Divesting State, as if you meant alone 
 To make your Servants' loyal heart your throne : 
 Oh, see how wide these valves themselves display 
 To entertain his Royal guests ! survey 
 'Wliat Arcs triumphal, Statues, altars, shrines, 
 Inscribed to your great names, he these assigns : 
 So from that stock of zeal, his coarse cates may 
 Borrow some relish, though but thinly they 
 Cover'd his narrow table : so may these 
 Succeeding trifles by that title please. 
 Else, gracious Madam, must the influence 
 Of your fair eyes' propitious beams dispense, 
 To crown such pastimes as he coidd provide 
 To oil the lazy minutes as they slide. 
 For well he knows upon your smile depends 
 This night's success ; since that alone commends 
 All his endeavours, gives the mxisic praise, 
 Painters and us, and gilds the Poet's bays.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 185 
 
 The Epilogue to the same Play. 
 
 HUNGER is sharjD, the sated stomach dull : 
 Feeding delights 'twixt emptiness and full : 
 
 The pleasure lies not in the end, but streams 
 
 That flow betwixt two opposite extremes. 
 So doth the flux from hot to cold combine 
 
 An equal temper ; such is noble wine, 
 
 'Twixt fulsome must and vinegar too tart. 
 
 Pleasure's the scratching betwixt itch and smart : ['Measures. 
 It is a shifting Tartar, that still flies 
 From place to place : if it stand still, it dies. 
 
 After much rest, labour delights ; when jaain 
 
 Succeeds long travail, rest grows sweet again. 
 Pain is the base, on which his nimble feet 
 Move in continual change from sour to sweet. 
 This the Contriver of your sports to-night 
 
 Hath well observed, and so, to fix delight 
 
 In a perpetual circle, hath applied 
 
 The choicest objects that care could 2:)rovide 
 
 To every sense. Only himself hath felt 
 
 The load of this great honour, and doth melt 
 
 All into humble thanks, and at your feet — 
 
 Of both your Majesties — prostrates the sweet 
 
 Perfume of gi-atefid service, which he swears 
 
 He will extend to such a length of years 
 As fits not us to tell, but doth belong 
 To a far abler pen and nobler tongue. 
 Our task ends here : if we have hit the laws 
 
 Of true delight, his glad heart joys : yet, 'cause 
 
 You cannot to succeeding pleasures climb, 
 
 Till you grow weary of the instant time, 
 
 He was content this last piece should grow sour 
 
 Only to sweeten the ensuing hour. 
 
 But if the Cook, Musician, Player, Poet, 
 
 Painter, and all, have fail'd, he'll make them know it. 
 That have abused him : yet must grieve at this, 
 He should do i)enance, when the sin was his.
 
 186 THE POEMS OF 
 
 To Mistress Katherine Neville, 
 ON HER Green Sickness. 
 
 [Compare"^. loi. Printed anonymously in lsl\i%axnTa.T>e\iQids, 
 1655 ; hut hearing the signature ' Tho. Carew ' in Addit. 
 MSS. 11811, fol. II, and 23118, fol. 43, It is also in 
 the Wyburd MS., which alone has not ieen collated: hut 
 this 2^'>'ohahly reads in 6th line., ' That he may never 
 backward flow,' and in 12th line, 'Least to thy heart 
 he take his course.' We folloio the other MSS. The 
 evidence, internal and external, amjily suhstantiates the 
 claim of Carew to this j)oem. He appears to have been 
 on terms of close intimacy with the Nevilles, Katherine 
 and Mary, and their brother, Gilbert, to whom he wrote 
 from their residence at Wrest House and Park, six miles 
 south 0/ Bedford, and not far from Wohnra : see p. 125.] 
 
 w 
 
 'HITE Innocence, that now liest spread, 
 Forsaken on thy widow'd bed, 
 Cold and alone, if fear, love, hate. 
 Or shame recall thy Crimson Mate, 
 From his dark mazes to reside 
 With thee his chaste and maiden Bride : — 
 Least that he backward thence should flow, 
 Congeal him with thy virgin snow. 
 But if his own heat, with thy pair 
 Cf. p. 234.] Of neighbouring Suns and flaming hair, 
 Thaw him into a new divorce ; 
 Least that from thee he take his course — 
 Oh, lodge me there, where I'll defeat 
 All future hopes of his retreat, 
 And force the fugitive to seek 
 A constant station in thy cheek. 
 
 So each shall keep his proper place, 
 I in your heart, he in your face. 
 
 Tho. Carew.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 187 
 
 Another op the Samk Title. 
 soya. 
 
 [Not in the early 'printed editions, or known in MS. exccjtt 
 Wyburd's. No reader ivJio appreciates the tender beauty 
 and elegance of Carew, ivhen at his best, can williwjly 
 accept for his, this weak and displeasing allegory of a 
 pale sickly lady, represented as a ' heautous Island,' sur- 
 rounded like Albion and Venus by 'her white frothy bed 
 and native foam,' on such utterly inadequate evidence as 
 the fact of it being contained in the Wyburd MS., the 
 errors in ivhicli arc both numerous and glaring. This is 
 shown by collation with other MSS. whenever they are 
 attainable, or still better, by comparison with the early- 
 printed text, when any are included in the 1640 edition.] 
 
 BRIGHT Albion, where tlie Queen of Love 
 Pressing the pinion of her snow-white dove, 
 With silver harness o'er thy fair 
 Region in triumph drives her ivory chair ; 
 Wliere now retired she rests at home 
 In her white frothy bed and native foam ; 
 Where the grey morn, throiigh mists of lawn 
 Snowing soft j^earls, shoots an eternal dawn 
 On thy Elkian shade : Thou blest 
 Empire of love and beauty, unpossess'd, 
 
 Chaste virgin kingdom ! but create 
 Me Monarch of thy free Elective State : 
 Let me surround witia circling arms 
 My beauteous Island, and with amorous charms 
 Mixt with this flood of frozen snow, 
 In crimson streams I'll force the red sea flow. 
 
 \Contrast, p. 33.
 
 188 THE POEMS OF 
 
 Mr. Garew to his Friend. 
 
 {In Ashmole MS. 38, art. 81, and from it printed by Bliss in 
 his edition of Anthony k Wood's ' Athense Oxonienses,' 
 ii. 659, 1813-20, It cannot be considered doubtful. It 
 bears internally his sign manned, as certainly as the 
 poem 071 p. 187 lacks it. Moreover, 'Woocl and his 
 excellent annotator, Dr. Philip Bliss, erred seldom in 
 their ascrip>tio7is of authorship.'\ 
 
 LIKE to the liand, that hath been used to play 
 -/ One lesson long, still runs the self-same way, 
 And waits not what the heavens bid it strike, 
 But doth presume by Custom ' this will like : ' 
 So run my thoughts, which are so perfect grown, 
 So well acquainted with my passion. 
 That now they dare prevent me with their haste, 
 And ere I think to sigh, my sigh is past : 
 It's past and flown to you, for you alone 
 Are all the object that I think upon : 
 
 And did you not supply my soul with thought, 
 For want of action it to none were brought. 
 
 What though, our absent arms may not enfold 
 Real embraces, yet we firmly hold 
 Each other in possession ; thus we see 
 The lord enjoys his land, where e'er he be. 
 If kings possess'd no more than where they sate, 
 What would they, greater than a mean estate ? 
 
 This makes me firmly yours, you firmly mine. 
 That something more than bodies us combine. 
 
 Finis : Tho. Carew.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 189 
 
 [It were rash to nttribute the following saucy and audacious 
 poem to Thomas Carevv, because it bears Celia's name. 
 Truly, it has his elegance and light touch. It appears to 
 have been first jwinted in Cotgrave's ' Wit's Interpreter,' 
 p. lo6, 1655 ; p. 212, edit. 1671 ; and there anonymously . 
 To it is held resemblance by a daring pre- Restoration 
 ditty, ' When I my Mistress do intend to flatter.'] 
 
 w 
 
 Love's Flattery. rMusicbyDr. 
 
 \_Colman. 
 
 HEN, Celia, I intend to flatter you, 
 And tell you lies to make you true, 
 I swear 
 
 There's none so fair : 
 And you believe it too. 
 
 Oft have I match'd you with the Eose, and said 
 No Twins so like hath Nature made ; 
 
 But 'tis 
 
 Only in this :— 
 You prick my hand, and fade. 
 
 Oft have I said there is no jarecious stone, 
 But may be found in you alone ; 
 
 Though I 
 
 No stone espy — 
 Unless your heart be one. 
 
 When I praise your skin, I quote the avooI 
 That silk-worms from their entrails pull ; 
 
 And show 
 
 That new-fall'n snow. 
 Is not more beautiful. 
 
 Yet grow not proud, by such Hyperboles ! 
 Were you as excellent as these, 
 While I 
 Before you lie. 
 They might be liad with ease.
 
 190 THE POEMS OF 
 
 Four unauthenticated Epigrams. 
 
 [Robert Herrick, true poet and divine though he was, indulged 
 himself occasionally, and amused his boon companions, 
 hy ivriiing several Epigrams : which we might have lost 
 without serious bereavement. Vulgar personalities, or 
 Nugse Venales, such as the following mcrilless four, 
 rashly attributed to Carew, in Harl. MS. 6917, are far 
 more akin to some trifles by Herrick. After all, it counts 
 well for Carew that we know the very worst follies that 
 had ever been attributed to his pen, and yet that these 
 held so little evil. They are included here unwillingly.'] 
 
 On Mvnday of Oxford. 
 
 GOD bless the Sabbath, fie on worldly pelf ! 
 The week begins on Tuesday: Mundatj has 
 hanged himself. 
 
 Epigram. 
 
 CALL Philip ' flat-nose,' and he frets at that : 
 And yet this Philip hath a nose that's flat. 
 
 On one that died of the Wind-Colic. 
 
 HERE lies John Dunibelow, who died because he 
 was so : 
 If his tail could have spoke, his heart had not broke. 
 
 A 
 
 On a Child's Death. 
 
 CHILD, and dead ! alas, how could it come ? 
 Surely the Thread of Life was but a thrum.
 
 A PAEAPHRASE OF CERTAIN PSALMS. 
 
 [These are nearly all transcribed from Ashmole MS. 38, art. 
 15. Psalm civ. is also in Brit. Museum Addit. MS. 
 22, 118, fol. 36. But for Psalm cxix., imperfect, possibly 
 mutilated, and not collated anew, the sole authority is the 
 Wyburd MS. They have no higher literary merit than 
 Milton's attempts. The atmosphere of Sternhold and 
 Hopkins surrounds them, like miasma. But it should he 
 remembered that they were copies, of rouyh drafts, not 
 corrected by the author. This has been ungenerously 
 forgotten by one so notable as the Rev. Dr. Augustus 
 Jessopp, who — m the Diet. Nat. Biog., ix. 63, 1887 — 
 telZs of Carew having been 'stricken down by mortal 
 sickness,' so that 'it looks as if his life had been 
 shortened by his irregtilar habits;' also that Hales of 
 Eton 'seems to hare thought very meanly of him, and 
 made no secret of his loio opinion; ' ivhich ' hno opinion' 
 casts discredit solely on the said Hales himself, and 
 any Biographer icho endorses the Etonian's slanders and 
 betrayal of Confessional-secrets, thus infamously revealed 
 after Carew's death : but see note, p. 248. He is careful 
 to add that 'Carew has left some wretched attempts at 
 versifying a few of the Psalms ; ' winding up with 'the 
 illness that led him to a maudlin kind of repentance 
 seems to have come upon him ivhen he ivas in the country.' 
 From, an ecclesiastic who writes thus, no penitent could 
 gather any comfort or direction : nor from John Hale.s.] 
 
 Psalm 
 
 I. 
 
 HAPPY the man tliat doth not walk 
 In wicked counsels, nor hath lent 
 His glad ear to the railing talk 
 
 Of scorners, nor his prompt steps bent 
 To wicked paths, where sinners went.
 
 192 THE POEMS OF 
 
 2. But to those safer tracts confined, 
 
 Which God's Law-giving finger made : 
 Never withdraws his wearied mind 
 From practice of that holy trade, 
 By noon-day's sun or midnight's shade. 
 
 3. Like the fair plant whom neighbouring floods 
 
 Eefresh, whose leaf feels no decays ; 
 That not alone with flattering buds, 
 But early fruits, his Lord's hope pays ; 
 So shall he thrive in all his ways. 
 
 4. But the loose Sinner shall not share 
 
 So fix'd a state ; like the light dust 
 That up and down the empty air 
 
 The wild wind drives with various gust, 
 So shall cross-fortunes toss th' Unjust. 
 
 5. Therefore, at the last Judgment-day, 
 
 The trembling sinful soul shall hide 
 His confused face, nor shall he stay 
 Where the elected troops abide, 
 But shall be chased far from their side. 
 
 6. For the clear paths of Eighteous men 
 
 To the all-seeing Lord are known ; 
 But the dark maze and dismal den, 
 Where Sinners wander up and down, 
 Shall by his hand be overthrown. 
 
 Psalm 2. 
 
 T O -J 
 
 1) -1 3- 
 
 WHY rage the Heathen ? wherefore swell 
 The Peojile with vain thoughts ? why meet 
 Their Kings in counsel to rebel 
 
 'Gainst God and Christ, trampling His sweet 
 But broken bonds under their feet ?
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 193 
 
 4, 5, 6. 
 Alas ! the glorious God that hath 
 
 His throne in heaven, derides th' imsound 
 Plots of weak IVIortals : in His wrath 
 
 Thus shall He speak : ' My self have crown'd 
 
 The Monarch of My holy ground.' 
 
 7,8. 
 
 I will declare what God hath told ; 
 ' Thou art My Son ; this hapjjy day 
 
 Did Thy incarnate birth unfold : 
 Ask, and tlie Heathen shall obey, 
 With the remotest earth, Thy sway.' 
 
 9, lo, II. 
 
 Thy Rod of Iron shall, if Kings rise 
 Against Thee, bruise them into dust, 
 
 Like pots of clay : therefore be Avise, 
 Ye Princes, and learn judgments just : 
 Serve God with fear : tremble, yet trust. 
 
 12. 
 
 Kiss, and do homage to the Son, 
 
 Lest His displeasure ruin bring : 
 For if the fire be Ijut begun. 
 
 Then happy those that themselves fling 
 
 Under the shelter of His wing. 
 
 Psalm 51. 
 
 I. 
 
 r^ OOD God, unlock thy magazines 
 ^^J" Of Mercy, and forgive my sins. 
 
 2. Oh, wash and purify the foul 
 Pollution of my sin-stain'd soul. 
 
 3. For I confess my faults, that lie 
 In horrid shapes before mine eye. 
 
 If
 
 194 THE POEMS OF 
 
 4. Against Thee only and alone, 
 In Thy sight, was this evil done. 
 That all men might Thy Justice see 
 When Thou art judged for judging me. 
 
 5. Even from my birth I did begin 
 With mother's milk to suck in sin. 
 
 6. But Thou lovest truth, and shalt impart 
 Thy secret wisdom to my heart. 
 
 7. Thou shalt with 'ysop purge me, so 
 Shall 1 seem white as mountain snow. 
 
 8. Thou shalt send joyful news, and then 
 My broken bones grow strong again. 
 
 9. Let not Thine eyes my sins survey ; 
 But cast those cancell'd debts away. 
 
 10. Oh, make my cleans'd heart a pure cell, 
 Where a renewed spirit may dwell. 
 
 1 1. Cast me not from Thy sight, nor chase 
 Away from me Thy spirit of grace. 
 
 1 2. Send me Thy saving health again, 
 
 And with Thy Spirit those joys maintain. 
 
 1 3. Then will I preach Thy ways, and draw 
 Converted sinners to Thy law. 
 
 14, 15. Oh God, my God of health, unseal 
 My blood-shut lips, and I'll reveal 
 What mercies in Thy justice dwell, 
 And with loud voice Tliy praises tell. 
 
 16, 17. Could sacrifice have purged my vice. 
 Lord, I had brought Thee sacrifice ; 
 But though Burnt Oh'ei'iugs are refused. 
 Thou shalt accept the heart that's bruised 
 The humbled soul, the spirit oppress'd. 
 Lord, such oblations please Thee best.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 195 
 
 1 8. Bless Sion, Loi'd ! i-eimir with pity 
 Tlie ruins of Thy Holy City. 
 
 19. Then will we holy dower present Thee, 
 And peace offerings that content Thee ; 
 And then Thine Altars shall be press'd 
 With many a sacrificed beast. 
 
 Psalm 91. 
 
 I, 2, 3. 
 l\/r AKE the great God thy Fort, and dwell 
 ^^ ^ In Him by faith and do not care 
 (So shaded) for the Power of hell, 
 Or for the cunning Fowler's snare, 
 Or poison of th' infected air. 
 
 4, 5. His plumes shall make a downy bed, 
 
 Where thou shalt rest : He shall display 
 His wings of truth over thy head, 
 
 WHiich, like a shield, shall drive away 
 The fears of Night, the darts of Day. 
 
 6, 7. The winged Plague that flies by night, 
 
 The murdering Sword that kills by day. 
 Shall not thy peaceful sleeps affright, 
 Though on thy right and left hand they 
 A thousand and ten thousand slay, 
 
 ,9, 10. Yet shall thine eyes l)ehold the fall 
 Of sinners ; but, because thy heart 
 Dwells with the Lord, not one of all 
 Those ills, nor yet the plaguy dart. 
 Shall dare approach near where thou art. 
 
 1 1- 1 3. His Angels shall direct thy legs. 
 
 And guard them in the stony streets : 
 On lion's whelps and adder's eggs 
 
 Thy steps shall march ; and if thou meet 
 With Dragons, they shall kiss thy feet.
 
 196 THE POEMS OF 
 
 14, 15, 16. 
 
 When thou art troubled, He shall hear, 
 And help thee, for thy love embraced 
 
 And knew His name ; therefore He'll rear 
 Thy honours high, and, when thou hast 
 Enjoy'd them long, save thee at last. 
 
 Psalm 104. 
 I. 
 
 MY Soul the great God's praises sings 
 „. ^. ^ „. , Encircled round with Glory's wings ; 
 
 2. 
 
 Clothed with light, o'er Wliom the sky 
 Hangs like a starry canopy ; 
 
 3- 
 Who dwells upon the gliding streams, 
 Enamel'd with His golden beams : 
 Enthroned in clouds, as in a chair, 
 He rides in triumph through the aii'. 
 
 4- 
 The winds and flaming Element 
 Are on His great Ambassage sent. 
 
 5- 
 The fabric of the Earth shall stand 
 For aye, built by His powerful hand. 
 
 6, 7, 8, 9. 
 The floods, that with their wat'ry robe 
 Once cover'd all this earthly Globe, 
 Soon as Thy thundering voice was heard, 
 Fled fast, and straight the hills appear'd : 
 The humble valleys saw the Sun, 
 Whilst the affrighted waters run 
 Into their channels, and no more 
 Shall droA\Ti the Earth, or pass the shore.
 
 THOMAS GAREW. 197 
 
 lO. 
 
 Amongst those Vales the cold springs flow, 
 And wash the mountains' feet below. 
 
 1 1. 
 
 Hither for drink the whole herd strays : 
 There the wild Ass his thirst allays ; 
 
 12. 
 
 And on the boughs that shade the spring 
 The feather'd Choir shall sit and sing. 
 
 13) 14, 15- 
 When on her womb Thy dew is shed 
 The pregnant Earth is brought to bed, 
 And, with a fruitful birth increased. 
 Yields herbs and grass for man and beast : 
 Heart-strengthening bread, care-drowniug wine, 
 And oil that makes tlie face to shine. 
 
 1 6. 
 
 On Lebanon His cedars stand : 
 Trees full of sap, works of His hand. 
 
 17- 
 In them the Birds their cabins dight : 
 The fir-tree is the Stork's delight. 
 
 iS. 
 
 The wild Goat on the hills, in cells 
 Of rocks the hermit Coney, dwells. 
 
 19. 
 
 The Moon observes her course ; the Sun 
 Knows when his weary race is done. 
 
 20. 
 
 And when the Night her dark veil spreads, 
 The wilder beasts forsake their sheds :
 
 198 THE POEMS OF 
 
 21. 
 
 The hungry Lions hnnt for blood, 
 And roaring beg from God their food. 
 
 22, 23. 
 
 The Sun returns : these beasts of prey- 
 Fly to their dens, and from the day ; 
 And whilst they in dark caverns lurk, 
 Man till the evening goes to work. 
 
 24. 
 
 How full of creatures is the Earth 
 
 To which Thy wisdom gave their birth ! 
 
 25. 
 
 And those that in the wide Sea breed, 
 The bounds of number far exceed. 
 
 26. 
 
 There the huge Whales with finny feet 
 Dance underneath the sailing fleet. 
 
 27, 28, 29, 30. 
 
 All these expect their nourishment 
 From Thee, and gather what is sent. 
 Be Thy hand open, they are fed. 
 Be Thy face hid, astonished : 
 ' withhold, n If Thou withdraw their Soul, they must 
 Add. MS. J Return unto their former Dust : 
 
 If Thoii send back Thy breath, the face 
 Of th' Earth is spread with a new race. 
 
 31- 
 
 God's glory shall for ever stay ; 
 
 He shall with joy His works survey.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 109 
 
 32, 33- 
 The steadfast Earth shall shake, if lie 
 Look down, and if the mountains Ije 
 Touch'd, they shall smoke ; yet still my verse 
 Sliall, whilst I live, His praise rehearse. 
 
 34- 
 In Him with joy my thoughts shall meet ; 
 He makes my meditations sweet. 
 
 35- 
 The Sinner shall appear no more : 
 Then, my Soul, the Lord adore ! 
 
 Tno. Carew. [Add. MS. 
 
 Psalm 113. 
 
 I, 2, 3- 
 
 YE children of the Lord, that wait 
 Upon His will, sing Hymns divine, 
 From henceforth to time's endless date. 
 To His name : praised from the first shine 
 Of th' Earth's Sun, till it decline. 
 
 4, 5> 6. 
 
 The hosts of Heaven or Earth have none 
 May to His height of glory rise ; 
 
 For who like Him hath fix'd His throne 
 So high, yet bends down to the skies. 
 And lower-Earth, His humble eyes ? 
 
 7, 8, 9. 
 
 The Poor from loathed dust He draws, 
 And makes them regal state invest 
 
 'Mongst kings ; He gives His people laws : 
 He makes the l)arren mother rest 
 Under her roof, with Children blest.
 
 200 THE POEMS OF 
 
 Psalm 114. 
 
 I, 2. T T THEN the seed of Jacob fled 
 
 V V From the cruel Pharaoh's land, 
 Judah was in safety led 
 
 By the Lord, whose powerful hand 
 Guided all the Hebrew band. 
 
 3, 4. This the Sea saw, and dismay'd 
 t 'fties.'i Fled : swift Jordan backward makes : 
 
 Mountains skijs, like rams afraid ; 
 And the lower hillocks shake, 
 Ash. MS.,~\ Like the tender lambs [that quake]. 
 
 5, 6. What, Sea, hath thee dismay'd ? 
 
 Why did Jordan backwards make ? 
 Mountains why, like rams afraid, 
 Skipt ye ? wherefore did ye shake. 
 Hillocks, like the lambs that quake. 
 
 7, 8. Tremble, thou steadfast Earth, 
 At the presence of the Lord ! 
 That makes rocks give rivers birth, 
 And by virtue of Whose word 
 Flints shall flowing S2:)rings afford. 
 
 Psalm 119. 
 
 [From Mr. Wyburd's MS., no other copy lcnown.\ 
 
 Aleph. Beati Immaculati. 
 
 1. "D LEST is he that spotless stands 
 -L' In the way of God's commands. 
 
 2. Blessed he that keeps His word : 
 Whose entire heart seeks the Lord ; 
 
 3. For the man, that walketh in 
 His just paths, commits no sin.
 
 THOMAS GAREW. 201 
 
 4. By Thy strict commauds we are ['tiiine,' Wyh- 
 Bound to keep Thy laws with care. 
 
 5. that my steps might not slide 
 From Thy statutes' perfect guide. 
 
 6. So shall I decline Thy wrath, 
 Treading Thy commanded path ; 
 
 7. Having learn'd Thy righteous ways, 
 With true heart I'll sing Thy praise. 
 
 8. In Thy statutes I'll persever : ['pers^ver.' 
 Then forsake me not for ever ! 
 
 Beth. In quo corriget 1 
 
 9. How shall Youth, but by the level 
 Of Thy word, be kept from evil ? 
 
 10. Let my soul, that seeks the way 
 Of Thy truth, not go astray. 
 
 1 1. Wliere, lest my frail feet might slide. 
 In my heart Thy words I hide. 
 
 12. Blest be Tliou, O Lord ! O show 
 How I may Thy statutes know. 
 
 13. I have publish'd the divine 
 Judgments of Thy mouth with mine ; 
 
 14. Which have till'd my sovil with pleasure 
 More than all the heaps of treasure. 
 
 15. They shall all the subject jjrove 
 Of my talk and of my love. 
 
 16. Those, my darlings, no time shall 
 From my memory let fall.
 
 202 THE POEMS OF 
 
 GiMEL. Retribue servo tuo. 
 
 17. Let Thy grace, Lord, preserve me, 
 That I may but live to serve Thee. 
 
 1 8. Open my dark eyes, that I 
 May Tliy wondrous laws descry. 
 
 1 9. Let Thy glorious light appear : 
 I am but a pilgrim here. 
 
 20. Yet the zeal of their desire 
 Hath even set my heart on fire. 
 
 21. Thy fierce rod and curse o'ertaketh 
 Him that proudly Thee forsaketh. 
 
 22. I have kept Thy laws, God : 
 Turn from me Thy curse and rod ! 
 
 23. ThoTigh combined Princes rail'd. 
 Yet tln^ Servant hath not fail'd 
 
 24. In their study to abide ; 
 
 For they are my joy, my guide. 
 
 Daleth. Adhcesit pavimento. 
 
 25. For Thy word's sake, give new birth 
 To my soul that cleaves to earth. 
 
 26. Thou hast heard my tongue untwine 
 All my ways : Lord, teach me Thine ! 
 
 27. Make me know them, that I may 
 All Thy wondrous works display. 
 
 28. Thou hast said the word : then bring 
 Ease to my soul, languishing. 
 
 29. Plant in me Thy laws' true love, 
 And the Veil of lies remove.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 
 
 30. I have chosen Tinilh to lie 
 The fix'd object of mine eye. 
 
 3 1 . On Til y word my faith I grounded, 
 Let me not then be confounded. 
 
 32. When my soul from bonds is freed, 
 I shall run Thy -ways with speed. 
 
 203 
 
 He. Legem j)one. 
 
 33. Teach me. Lord, Thy ways, and 1 
 From that road will never fly. 
 
 34. Give me knowledge, that I may 
 With my heart Thy laws obey. 
 
 35. Unto that path my stejis move, 
 For I there have fix'd my love. 
 
 36. Fill laj heart witli those pure fires, 
 Not with covetous desires. 
 
 37. Blind to vain sights, let me be ; 
 But Thy ways let me see. 
 
 38. Make Thy promise firm to me. 
 That with fear have served Thee. 
 
 39. 'Cause Thy judgments ever were 
 Sweet, divert the shame I fear. 
 
 40. Let not him, for justice, perish. 
 That desires Thy laws to cherish. 
 
 rTransposed. 
 L' To . . be B.' 
 
 [(. 'in justice. 
 
 Vau. Et venias super me. 
 
 41. Let Thy loving mercies cure me, 
 As Thy promises assure me ; 
 
 42. So shall the blasphemers see 
 I not vainlj' trust in Thee ;
 
 204 THE POEMS OF 
 
 43. Take not quite the words away 
 Of Thy truth, that are my stay : 
 
 MS. -even till.'] 44. Then I'll keep Thy laws, until 
 
 Winged time it self stand still. 
 
 45. And, whilst I pursue Thy search, 
 With secure steps will I march. 
 
 46. Unashamed I'll record, 
 
 Even before great kings. Thy word. 
 
 47. That shall be my joy, for there 
 My thoughts ever fixed were ; 
 
 48. With bent mind and stretch'd-out hands 
 I will seek Thy loved commands. 
 
 Zaine. Memor esto Verbi tui. 
 
 49. Think upon Thy promise made, 
 For in that my trust is laid ; 
 
 50. That, my comfort in distress : 
 That hath brought my life redress. 
 
 5 1 . Though the proud hath scorn'd me, they 
 Make me not forsake Thy way ; 
 
 52. Thy eternal judgments brought 
 Joy to my rememb'ring thought ; 
 
 53. With great sorrow I am taken. 
 When I see Thy laws forsaken : 
 
 54. Which have made me songs of mirth. 
 In this pilgrimage of Earth. 
 
 55. Which I mindful was to keep, 
 When I had forgot to sleep : 
 
 56. Thy commands I did embrace. 
 Therefore I obtain'd Thy grace.
 
 THOMAS CAREW, 205 
 
 Heth. Portio mea, Domine. 
 
 57. Thon, O Lord, art 1113- reward : 
 
 To Thy laws my thoughts are squared ; 
 
 58. With an humble heart I crave, 
 Thou wilt promised mercy have. 
 
 59. I have mark'd my ways, and now 
 To Thy ways my feet I bow. 
 
 60. Nor have I the time delay 'd, 
 
 But with haste this journey made, 
 
 61. Where, though bands of sinners lay 
 Snaring nets, I keep my way. 
 
 62. I my self at midnight raise, 
 Singing Thy just judgments' praise. 
 
 63. I converse with those that bear 
 To Thy laws obedient fear. 
 
 64. Teach me them, Lord, l:)y that grace 
 Which hath fill'd the world's wide space. 
 
 [Ooitera desunf.] 
 
 Psalm 137. 
 
 I. O ITTING by the streams that glide 
 O Down by Babel's towering wall, 
 With our tears we fill'd the tide. 
 Whilst our mindful thoughts recall 
 Thee, Sioji, and thy fall.
 
 206 THE POEMS OF 
 
 2. Our neglected harps unstrung, 
 
 Not acquainted witli tlie hand 
 Of the skilful tuner, hung 
 
 On the willow trees that stand 
 Planted in the Neighbour Land. 
 
 3. Yet the spiteful foe commands 
 
 Songs of mirth, and bids us lay 
 To dumb harps our Captive hands, 
 And, to scoff our sorrows, say, 
 ' Sing us some sweet Hebrew lay ! ' 
 
 4. But, say we, ' Our holy strain 
 
 Is too pure for heathen land ; 
 Nor may we God's Hymns profane. 
 Or move either voice or hand 
 To delight a savage band.' 
 
 5. Holy Salem, if thy love 
 
 Fall from my forgetful heart, 
 Llay the skill, h\ which I move 
 Strings of Music tuned with art, 
 From my %\ather'd hand depart. 
 
 6. May my speechless tongue give sound 
 
 To no accents, but remain 
 To my prison-roof fast bound, 
 If my sad soul entertain 
 ISIirth, till thou rejoice again. 
 
 7. In that day remember. Lord ! 
 
 Edom's breed, that in our groans 
 They triumph ; and with fire and sword 
 Burn their City, hearse their bones. 
 And make all one heap of stones. 
 
 8. Cruel Babel ! thou shalt feel 
 
 The Revenger of our groans, 
 When the happv Victor's steel. 
 
 As thine [had] our's, shall hew thy bones, 
 And make all one heap of stones.
 
 THOMAS GAREW. 207 
 
 9. Men sliall bless the hand that tears 
 From the Mothers' soft enibracCvS 
 Sucking Infants, and besmears 
 With their brains the rugged faces 
 Of the rocks and stony places. 
 
 [Dr. Philip Bliss printed this Psalm 137, from the 
 Ashmolean MS. 38, art. 115 ; tvhere alone it was preserved: 
 see Athense Oxonienses, ii. col. 659-666. It was therefrom 
 cited inaccurately in Notes and Queries, Second Series, vol. x. 
 p. 223, by J. M. Gutch. Also it was reprinted in 'Gathered 
 Riches from the Older Poets,' p. 134, 1865. It is uncertain 
 whether Carew conti)iued these paraphrases, with 'Teth,' the 
 ninth portion of the Psalm 1 19 of p. 205, or versified any 
 other of the Psalms additionally.'] 
 
 Here end the Unauthe7iticated Poems from 
 manuscripts. 
 
 FINIS.
 
 NOTES 
 
 TO THE 
 
 POEMS OF THOMAS CAREW.
 
 BppcnDii' motC5, 
 
 Note I. — On the annotations by T. Davies and John Fry. — 
 The detection of Similarities, or so-called 'parallel passages,' 
 has been the harmless hobby of many an amateur editor, for 
 whose busy-idleness it furnished laborious trifling. But in 
 regard to Thomas Carew, it was needless. He borrowed 
 little from other writers, and seems to have been free 
 from the restless ambition that drives men to desert their 
 own choice, and attempt to rival other masters of distinctly 
 varied taste and power. Few of the pretended discoveries 
 claimed by T. Davies, in 1772, and by John Fry of Bristol, 
 1810, deserve fresh record. Their explanatory notes were 
 devoted to the mere commonplaces of mythology (such as 
 Semele, p. 44. ; Dance, i^y ; Amalihea''s Horn of Plenty, 127; 
 Janus, gy, 99; Bethesda, 79; Da2:)hne, 119; Plutus, 115; 
 the. Ordeal by Fire, 57, etc.). These might now be deemed 
 impertinent or redundant, unless their use were sancticmed 
 by a belief in popular ignorance. Of T. Davies's critical 
 estimates five samples suffice: 1st, 'We shall observe, 
 once for all, that elegance characterizes all our Poet's Love 
 Pieces. This song [viz., "Gaze not on thy beauty's pride," 
 p. 11], with the Persuasions to Love [meaning, to Joy, p. 14], 
 etc., and several other Poems, which the judicious reader 
 will easily distinguish, are incontestible proofs of it.' — D. 
 This 'truism' is innocent; but another note is offensive, 
 alike false and calumnious. 2nd, On the 'Elegy' (p. 17), 
 Davies wrote thus : — ' The time is too distant to trace out 
 this Lady's name with any certainty ; probably she belonged 
 to the Pennington family, who were then well known. Our 
 Poet is not so successful in gi'ave elegy as in love sonnets. 
 Perhaps he was not so sincere in his grief as in his love. 
 When the fancy wanders after frivolous pointcdness and 
 epigrammatic conceit, it shows too well that the heart is at 
 ease.' — D. Unable to discern the thicket mentioned in the 
 final stanza of ' A Pastoral Dialogue ' (' As Celia rested in the 
 shade,' our pp. 38-40), Davies 'wrote himself down' under
 
 212 APPENDIX NOTES. 
 
 the proper initial, to this effect, 3rd, ' That the reader may 
 not be surprised at our author's having entitled this piece A 
 Pastoral Dialogue, in which zve do not find even the most dis- 
 tant allusion drawn from 2'>astoral life, it may be necessary 
 to inform him, that it was a prevailing custom in our author's 
 time to style almost every poetical dialogue, of which Love 
 was the subject, pastoral. Most of the wits of Charles's 
 court left propriety to be studied by the following age.' — D. 
 Another specimen of this sapient critic. On the final stanza 
 of the other ' Pastoral Dialogue ' — ' This mossy bank they 
 press'd' (pp. 41, 42), here, 4th, is the comment : — 'It is im- 
 possible to pass over these three lines with inattention. The 
 delicacy of the thought is equalled only by the simplicity of 
 the description. Those soft sensations, which arise in lovers, 
 when their joys and sorrows meet, as a man of genius only can 
 describe them, so a man of taste only can conceive tlicm.' — D. 
 
 Criticism was at a low ebb in 1772, but Davies's comment 
 suited other ' men of taste.' 5th, He patronisingly estimates 
 the ' Inscription on the Tomb of the Duke of Buckingham ' 
 (p. 54) : — ' This little poem is not destitute of some pathetic 
 touches, expressive of the illustrious lady's grief, who is 
 supposed to utter them ; but the eight concluding lines, 
 instead of being the mournful monody of a widow, degrade 
 it into the wretched conceit of a poetaster. But this was the 
 faslian of the times.' — D. 
 
 John Fi-y considered that 'candies the grass' (p. i) was 
 closely imitated from Michael Drayton's 'Quest of Cinthia,' 
 
 ' Since when those frosts that Winter brings, 
 Which candy every green.' — Poems, 1627. 
 
 Also, ' When Hyems bound the floods in silver chains, 
 And hoary frosts had candied all the plains.' 
 
 This is from William Browne's Britannia's Pastorals, 
 Book I. song 4, printed in i6if. In the same Song, the 
 words ' pretty whispering gale,' Fry supposed, suggested 
 Carew's ' Go, thou gentle whispering wind ' (p. 9). If 
 this system of private detection be well pursued, it seems 
 difficult for any one to employ language at all ; since ever};^ 
 word had been previously used by somebody. In the case of 
 ' those streaks of doubtful light' (p. 41), there is undeniable 
 resemblance to the parting of the lovers in Eomeo and Juliet, 
 act iii. scene 7. Thus, when we read the glowingly indignant 
 rebuke, given by Carew to the ungrateful public which 
 had rejected D'Avenant's play of The Just Italian (p. 120), 
 as a dramatic faction in London often indulges its spiteful 
 fickleness against any of its spoilt favourites, we are reminded
 
 APPENDIX NOTES. 213 
 
 of Coriolanus, with his scathing denunciation of the rabble, 
 'You common cry of Curs, whose breath I hate, as reek of 
 the rotten fens,' etc. : we read Carew's just denunciation of 
 the many-headed mob, inapt for rising to ' all that exceeds 
 Red- Bull and Coch-pit flight,' as were the groundlings whom 
 Hamlet scorned, because they ' for the most part are capable 
 of nothing but inexplicable dumb shows and noise.' Even so, 
 
 ' Now noise prevails, and he is taxed for drouth 
 Of wit, that with tli.e cry spends not his mouth. 
 Yet ask him reason why he did not like ? 
 Him, why he did ? their ignorance will strike 
 Thy soul with scorn and pity.' 
 
 Carew knew well his Shakespeare, Jonson, and Fletcher, and 
 remembered the 'common cry,' but he was no plagiarist. 
 
 Note 2. — On the varying titles of the Poems. — Transcribers 
 of selected verse in commonplace books, MS. miscellanies 
 (to which we owe the preservation of many early poems that 
 w^ould otherwise have perished, uuprinted, amid the civil-war 
 disturbances and havoc), took liberties alike with the titles 
 and the text. Few among them can be accepted trustfully. 
 Inaccuracies are great and numerous, lines omitted, words 
 changed in ignorance or j^erversity in the best, while grosser 
 blunders meet us in the worst. It is seldom or never that 
 any one manuscript can be depended on throughout ; the 
 originals by Carew are totally lost, whereby we might have 
 ascertained the genuine reading to be followed. 
 
 In general, as might have been expected, although not 
 published until certainly a year after his death, the earliest 
 printed text of the Poems, 1640 (but of the 'Masque,' Calum 
 Britannicum, the editio princeps, 1634), is by far the purest. 
 Two of Robert Herrick's short pieces may have crept in, 
 unawares (pp. 65 and 73), the Ilesperides not having been 
 printed, with them in it, until 1648 ; and also an address 
 written by Edmund Waller to the Duke of Buckingham, 
 on his recovery from sickness (p. 100), for Waller indulged 
 in more fulsome flattery than Carew could ever do; and 
 there sounds in it the false ring of Waller, a turncoat and 
 sycophant throughout his long life : moreover the poem is 
 printed among his own. It has the excess of mythological 
 allusion (Lethfean lake, Orpheus and Eurldice, Adonis and 
 Venus, Phoebus, 'Neptune and his sea-born niece'), by 
 Waller employed ad nauseam. Carew's own sentiments 
 were expressed strongly in 163!, in the Masque (p. 133), 
 and earlier in the Elegy on John Donne, 1631 (p. 112) : —
 
 214 APPENDIX NOTES. 
 
 ' They will recall the goodly exiled train 
 Of Gods and Goddesses, which in thy just reign 
 Was banish'd nobler poems ; now with these, 
 The silenced tales i' th' Metamorphoses, 
 Shall stuff their lines and swell the windy page ; 
 Till verse, refined by thee in this last age, 
 
 Turn Ballad-rhyme, or those old idols be 
 Adored again with new apostacy. ' 
 
 These are the only ' doubtful ' poems given, outside of 
 the group 'chiefly from MSS.' (beginning with p. 169, and 
 extending to p. 208) ; unless we also count hesitatingly the 
 ascription to Carew of two songs, 'Farewell, fair Saint,' and 
 the ' Methodus Amandi,' of pp. 92, 103-105, which may 
 have belonged to another T. C, Thomas Carey. Several of 
 the MS. Poems share the same doubt. Where they are 
 really good they are probably Carew's, for Carey was inferior 
 us a versifier. 
 
 It is not necessary to record the innumerable variations, 
 between print and manuscript versions, the best reading 
 being taken after careful balancing of evidence. Every MS. 
 has been collated and transcribed, while this edition was 
 being prepared, personally (for hired transcribers are not 
 trustworthy), except the unavailable Wyburd and Cosens 
 MSS. No pains have been spared to either restore or 
 preserve the true text throuyliout, as completely as possible. 
 
 3. Miscellaneous Notes. — On p. 2, in the words additional 
 to the original title, ' His Counsel to his Mistress,' ' Mistress' 
 merely implies the object of his affectionate attention ; and 
 not the modern corrupt insinuation. These words are 
 won from the British Museum Hai'leian MS. 6931, fol. 25; 
 also from Additional MSS. iiSii, fol. 4. and 221 18, fol. 39; 
 where the reading is, ' You are fayre as Helen, fresh as May; ' 
 moreover, in the Bodleian Library Ashmole MS. 47, art. loi, 
 is a similar reading ; there it is entitled, ' An Admonition 
 to coy Acquaintance.' It is remarkable and suggestive, that 
 
 the lines are addressed, in the 1640 edition, 'To A 
 
 L . ' Similarly initialed are two other poems, written 
 
 about the same date, by Richard Lovelace, the author of 
 * Lucasta,' to his cousin. She was the Honourabli^ Lady Anne 
 Lovelace. Probably the same Lady Anne Lovelace, born a 
 Wentworth, who was so near being married by Sir John 
 Finch, after 1635 (p. 82), and who really was married, not 
 much later, to John, Loi'd Lovelace, second Baron (p. 83). 
 She was a younger sister of Lady Mary Wentworth (p. 53), 
 who died in 1632, aged eighteen, eldest daughter of Sir Thomas
 
 APPENDIX NOTES. 215 
 
 Wentworth, afterwards Earl of Cleaveland, 162^; Anne 
 Crofts, their mother, being the daughter of Sir John Cmfts 
 of Saxhiim, County Suffolk (see pp. 24, 27, and Addit. MS. 
 24489, iii. 255 of Hunter's Chorus Vatum). Lovelace's poems 
 begin respectively, 'With what delight the royal captive's 
 brought,' and ' This Queen of Prey, now prey to you ' {Library 
 of Old Authors' edition of Lovelace, 1864, pp. 104, 108). Also 
 Sir John Suckling addresses one whose initials are the same, 
 A. L. (but she is styled ' Mistress A. L.,' not ' Lady,' though 
 this may be an error in copying), unless the initials are an 
 intentional transposition of L. A. for ' Lutea Allanson,' so 
 named in ed. 1659, alias Allison of pp. 62, 66, in Library of 
 Old Authors : Suc/ilinr/, 1892, beginning 'Though you Diana- 
 like have liv'd still chaste. Yet must you not, fair, die a 
 
 maid at last.' The other, ' Upon Mrs. A L ,' begins, 
 
 with unstinted laudation of the lady : — 
 
 ' Thou think'st I flatter, when thy praise I tell. 
 But thou do'st all hyperboles excel ; 
 For I am sure thou art no mortal creature. 
 But a divine one, throned in human feature : 
 Thy piety is such, that heaven by merit 
 If ever any did, thou should'st inherit,' etc. 
 
 Par/e 5. — 'If when the Sun at noon displays.' This is 
 one of the songs by Carew to which Henry Lawes, Milton's 
 friend, composed the music, and pi-inted them in his Ayres 
 and Dialoijues, Book I. 1653 ; Book II. 1655. A list of these 
 songs is given in a note on p. 104, ante. Compare p. 167. 
 
 Page 6.— The Assyrian A''«)(/ = Nebuchadnezzar ; Dan. iii. 
 
 Page 10. — 'Give me more love, or more disdain.' Com- 
 parisons have been made with Richard Lovelace's translation 
 of ' Done moy plus de Pitie, ou plus de Creaulte, car sans 
 ci je ne puis pas vivre, ne morir : ' title, A La Bourbon : 
 'Divine destroyer, pity me no more ! ' 1649. Also to William 
 Stanley's 'So much of absence and delay,' etc., 1656. 
 
 Pages II, 29. — A Calenture is 'a distemper peculiar to 
 sailors in hot climates, wherein they imagine the sea to_ be 
 green fields, and will throw themselves into it.' (J.'s Diet.) 
 
 Page 13. — The second stanza, 'Young men fly,' etc., is 
 found, without the opening, in Festum Voluptatis, 1639, by 
 S. P., supposed initials of the compiler, Sam Pick. Other
 
 216 APPENDIX NOTES. 
 
 songs by Carew, not needing to be specified individually, 
 were habitually reprinted, more or less mutilated and 
 marred in text from doubtful transcripts, in various poetical 
 miscellanies : Wit's Recreations, 1640 ; John Cotgrave's Wit's 
 Interpreter, 1655, 167 1 ; Academy of Complements, 1650; 
 New Acade'riiy of Complements, 167 1 ; Westminster Drollery, 
 1671 ; Holborn, London, Choice and Windsor Drolleries, etc. 
 In fact, few of them lacked his popular songs. 
 
 Page 15. — 'Know, Cclia, since thou art so proud.' Henry 
 Jacob, of Merton College, Oxon. , 'the greatest prodigy of 
 criticism in his time,' according to Anthony b, Wood, 
 translated into Latin this poem by Carew, entitling it 
 'AuTLTex^os, ad inr/ratc pulchram. It appears to be lost. 
 One variation of Carew is in Holborn Drollery, p. 22, 1672, 
 beginning, 'Know, Lady, since you are so proud.' 
 
 Ibid. — ' And with it ympt the wings of Fame.' Although 
 it was frequently used of old, and occurs in Shakespeare's 
 King Richard II., act ii. scene i, the Hawking-word imp 
 or ymp is now virtually obsolete, and unknown except to 
 commentators or linguists. 
 
 It signifies the grafBng part of a new feather into one that 
 is worn and broken, in the wing or tail. 
 
 Davies noted, ' This phrase is borrowed from Falconry. To 
 imp is to add a new piece to a broken stump.' Examples : 
 
 'Imp out our drooping country's broken wing.' — King 
 Richard II., act ii. scene i, line 292. 
 
 George Chapman's Conspiracy of Byron, 1608: — 'His 
 plumes only imp the Muses' wings.' 
 
 Spenser's Hymn of Heavenly Beauty, 1596, lines 137, 138, 
 
 ' Thence gathering plumes of perfect speculation, 
 To impe the wings of thy high-flying mynd.' 
 
 Also, in his Faerie Queene, Book IV. canto ix., line 39, 
 
 ' And having ympt the head to it agayne.' 
 
 In Phineas Fletcher's Purple Island, 1633, canto i. 24, 
 
 . . . ' imping their flaggy wing, 
 With thy stol'n plumes.' 
 
 In Milton's Sonnet XV., on Fairfax, 
 
 ' though new rebellions raise 
 Their Hydra heads, and the false North displays 
 Her broken league to imp their serpent wings'
 
 APPENDIX NOTES. 217 
 
 In John Cleavelaud's satire, The Rebel Scot, line 30, 
 
 ' Help, ye tart Satirists, to imp my rage, 
 With all the scorpions that should whip this age.' 
 
 In Browne's Britannia's Pastorals, i6if, Book I. song ii., 
 
 ' She'll tell you what you call virginity 
 Is fitly liken'd to a barren tree, 
 Which, when the gai'd'ner on it pains bestows, 
 To graft an imp thereon, in time it grows 
 To such perfection,' etc. — Lines 571-575. 
 
 Ibid., Book II. song ii. (Christopher Brooke), lines 309, 310, 
 
 ' And when thy temples' well-deserving bays 
 Might imp a pride in thee to reach thy praise.' 
 
 In Massinger's Roman Actor, 1629 (lie. 1626), act v. scene 2, 
 
 ' Could I imp feathers to the icings of Time.' 
 
 Also, ' with a white feather impd in her tail,' Richard 
 Brome's Jovial Crew, 1641. 
 
 Elsewhere cited, from Charles Colman, D. Mus., in Lines 
 prefixed to Lawes' Ayres, Book II., concerning Music, 
 
 ' She droop'd and flagg'd before, as Hawks complain 
 Of the sick feathers of their wing and train ; 
 But thou hast imp'd the ivings she had before.' 
 
 The phrase had become a mere poetic commonplace. 
 
 Page 16. — 'He that loves a rosy cheek.' Written before 
 1632, when it appeared in Walter Porter's Madrigals and 
 Ayres, with music, lacking the third stanza of the poem. 
 
 Page 22. — ^Additional 'Good Counsel to a Young Maid ' (the 
 other so entitled being on p. 11), second stanza, Trowbesh 
 MS. reads 'heated face : ' the 1640 text has ^ siocaty,' a word 
 not then deemed offensive. From the same Trowbesh MS. 
 are adopted a few other changes, such as in 'A Rapture,' 
 on p. 47, 'pinnace' for 'pine,' and the final rhymes on p. 50, 
 ' enshrined ' with ' Mnd ' instead of ' adores' with ' whores. ' 
 Also in ' The Second Rapture,' here advanced to follow 
 close on the other Rapture, the MS. correction gives ' aloue
 
 218 APPENDIX NOTES. 
 
 thirteen,' which early printers had mis-read ^ about;' and 
 'love^ for 'lust,' twice. Similarly, the Trowbessh MS. is 
 again followed, clearing the moaning by simple transposition, 
 in the fourth stanza of p. 90, 'You that will a wonder know.' 
 The earliest printed text, 1651 edition, read unintelligibly, 
 ' As fair Pillars understand | Statues Two, | Whiter than the 
 Silver Swan,' etc., and, in next stanza, 'as the miss.' But 
 compare, " So was her heavenly bodj' comely rais'd | On two 
 fair columns," etc.— Britannia's Pastorals, I. iv. 254. 
 
 Three poems, 'Grieve not,' 'You that will,' and 'As one 
 that strives ' (reprinted here on pp. 88, 90, 91, respectively), 
 are not known to have appeared in print before the third 
 edition, 1651, ' >^'ome Addillonal Poems hy the Same Author.' 
 
 Pages 24, 27. — To Saxham.' Harl. MS. 6931, fol. 24, gives 
 the title wrongly as 'A Gent, on his Entei'tainment at 
 Saxham, in Kent;' but the locality is in Suffolk; where 
 dwelt Carew's friend, John Crofts, Cup-bearer to King 
 Charles I. ; Cecila Crofts became Mrs. Killigrew (p. 81). The 
 first wife of Sir Thomas Wentworth had been Anne Crofts, 
 mother of the Ladies Maria and Anne Wentworth (pp. 82, 
 83, 237). About 1632 Charles I. visited Saxham. 
 
 On p. 25, it is unnecessary to relinquish the appropriate 
 word 'Votary' (Harl. MS.), although Addit. MS. 11811 
 reads ' Volary,' and Davies explains it as 'A great bird- 
 cage, in which tlie birds have room to fly up and down : ' 
 an Aviary. We need not disturb the 1640 text, ' Votary.' 
 
 Pages 29, 71, 99. — Litcinda, in these two poems, is the Lady 
 Lucy Hay, Countess of Carlisle, the second wife, nnd widow, 
 of John Hay, first Earl of Carlisle. She was born a Percy, 
 daughter of Henry, eighth Earl of Northumberland, and 
 has been rightly styled, by Bishop Warburton, the 'Erinnys 
 of England ; ' since her wanton fascination and heartless 
 treachery wrought evil widely. In her day she had been 
 accounted successively the mistress of John Wentworth Earl 
 of Strafford and afterwards of his bitter enemy and destroyer, 
 John Pym (whom she had saved from arrest at the abortive 
 attempt against the Five Members in 1642, by betraying 
 Charles's secret, learnt from Queen Henrietta). She was 
 held in more rapturous admiration than reverential respect 
 by friends, as is shown in the copy of verses written by Sir 
 John Suckling, 'Upon my Lady Carlisle's walking in 
 Hampton-Court-Gardens,' being a 'Dialogue between T. O. 
 and /. S.,' printed posthumously in the Fragmenta Atirea, 
 1646, reprinted in the Poem.<<, 1648, p. 32, and beginning 
 happily thus, in imitation of Carew's love of nature : —
 
 APPENDIX NOTES. 219 
 
 DID'ST thou not find the place inspired? 
 And flowers, as if they had desired 
 No other Sun, start from their beds, 
 And for a sight steal out their heads ? 
 Heard'st thou not music, when she talk'd, 
 And did'st not find that, as she walk'd, 
 She threw rare perfumes all about. 
 Such as Bean-blossoms newly out 
 Or chafed spices give? 
 
 Whereto Suckling's reply is of the 7iil admirari sort :— 
 
 /. S. 
 
 I must confess, those perfumes, Tom, 
 I did not smell ; nor found that from 
 Her passing by aught sprang up new ; 
 The flowers had all their birth from you : 
 For I passed o'er the self -same walk, 
 And did not find one single stalk. 
 
 Or anything that was to bring 
 
 This unknown after after-spring. rAs in an 
 
 D 
 
 after-iuath. 
 
 Thom\as Carewl. 
 
 Dull and insensible ! could'st see 
 
 A thing so near a Deity 
 
 Move up and down, and feel no change ? 
 
 J\ohn\ S[ucHinc/]. 
 
 None, and so great, were alike strange ! 
 
 I had my thoughts, but not your way ; 
 
 All are not born, Sir, to the Bay ; 
 
 Alas ! Tom, I am flesh and blood, 
 
 And was consulting how I could 
 
 In spite of Masks and Hoods descry 
 
 The parts denied unto the eye : 
 
 I was undoing all she wore. 
 
 And had she walk'd but one turn more, 
 Eve in her first state had not been 
 More naked, or more plainly seen. 
 
 Let it be remembered that, whatever sensuality is here 
 shown, in Suckling's rejoinder, it is his own confession, of 
 his own evil thoughts and imaginings, and given in his own 
 words. His evidence is tainted, and it recoils against
 
 220 APPENDIX NOTES. 
 
 himself. His friend ' Thorn ' merely catches the ball on the 
 rebound, and sings prolongedly Lucinda's praise : — 
 
 Tho7n[as Careiv]. 
 
 ' 'Tvvas well for thee she left the place ; 
 
 There is great danger in that face : 
 
 But had'st thou view'd her, [yet more nigh], 
 
 And upon that discovery 
 
 Searched after parts that are more dear, 
 
 As fancy seldom stops so near, 
 
 No time nor age had ever seen 
 
 So lost a thing as thou had'st been.' 
 
 That the Lady Lucy would neither blush nor feel angry, 
 at anything said or sung out of the mouths of such babes and 
 sucklings, we can readily believe. No one felt aggrieved 
 at warmth of expression in the Masques or Lyrics ; it was 
 frigidity or formality that provoked disgust, and, in reaction 
 against Pui-itanic hypocrisy, excused errors of the poets. 
 
 Page 22. — Upon the King's Sickness. Date, 1633. William 
 Cartwright wrote a contemporary poem, 'On his Majesty's 
 Recovery from the Small Pox' {Poems, p. 192, 165 1), 
 
 ' I do confess the over-forward tongue 
 Of public duty turned into a wrong. 
 And after-ages, which could ne'er conceive 
 Our happy CHARLES so frail as to receive 
 Such a disease, will know it by the noise 
 Which we have made in showing forth our joys,' etc. 
 
 Page 34. — Cleaveland has an inferior poem on this theme. 
 
 Page 35. — Li some MSS. (Ashm. 36 and Cosens) the 
 locality is erroneously stated to have been the vault or 
 gallery at York House. Arundel Gardens, in the time of 
 Carevv, occupied the ground now known as Norfolk Street, 
 Strand, with Arundel Street, Howard, and Surrey. The 
 entire space covered by the gardens, the terraces, and the 
 town house of the Earls of Arundel and Dukes of Norfolk, 
 is shown in Hollar's prints. The statues here mentioned, 
 the celebrated Arundelian marbles, described by John 
 Selden in Marmora Arundeliaua, were given later to the 
 University of Oxford. 
 
 Page 36. — There may have been some faint remembrance 
 of this ' Seek not to know my Love ' when the author of ' A 
 Rhodomontade on his Cruel Mistress ' wrote the following 
 epigram. It v^ell describes Lucy, the Countess of Carlisle. 
 In Ashmole MS. 38, art. 237, it begins, ' Ask not to know : ' —
 
 APPENDIX NOTES. 221 
 
 SEEK not to know this Woman ; for she's worse 
 Than all ingredients cramm'd into a Curse. 
 Were she but ugly, peevish, proud, a whore, 
 Perjured or painted — so she were no more — 
 I could forgive her, and connive at this, 
 Alleging ' Still, she but a Woman is ! ' 
 
 But she is worse, and may in time forestall 
 The Devil, and be the damning of us all. 
 
 Page 39. — The Marigold. A later version than Carew's 
 poem formed the foundation of a popular street-ditty and 
 broadside, 'printed for the assigns of Tho. Symcocke,' and 
 entitled ' The Maid's Comfort.' Beginning similarly, 'Down 
 in a garden sits my dearest love,' it is preserved by one 
 unique exemplar, in the Roxburghe Collection, I. 242. (See 
 Roxburghe Ballads, vol. ii., end of part iv., 1872.) 
 
 D 
 
 Love's Riddle Resolved. 
 OWN in a garden sate my dearest Love, 
 
 Her skin more soft than down of swan, 
 More tender-hearted than the Turtle-dove, 
 And far more kind tlian bleeding Pelican. 
 I courted her, she rose, and blushing said, 
 ' Why was I born to live and die a maid ? ' 
 With that I pluck'd a pretty Marygold, 
 Whose dewy leaves shut up, when day is done ; 
 'Sweeting,' I said, 'arise ! look, and behold, 
 A pretty riddle I'll to thee imfold : 
 
 These leaves shut in as close as cloistered Nun, 
 Yet will they open when they see the Sun.' 
 ' What mean you by this riddle, Sir ? ' she said ; 
 'I pray expound it.' Then I thus began, 
 ' Are not Men made for Maids, and maids for men ? ' 
 With that she changed her colour, and grew wan. 
 ' Since that this Riddle you so well unfold, 
 Be you the Sun, I'll be the Marygold.' 
 
 Wit's Interpreter, 1655, p. 27. 
 
 The ballad-maker spun it out to fifteen stanzas, ending, 
 
 Comfort she found, and straight was made a Wife ; 
 
 It was the only thing she did desire : 
 
 And she enjoys a Man loves her as life, 
 
 And will do ever, till his date expire. 
 
 And this, for truth, report hath to me told. 
 
 He is her Sun, and she his Marygold. (1620-42). 
 
 ' An Answer' meets us in Acad, of Comp., 1650, 1671 : — •
 
 222 APPENDIX NOTES. 
 
 Answer to 'The Marigold.' 
 
 SHOW me no more the Marigold, 
 Whose leaves like grieved arms do fold ! 
 My lougings nothing can explain 
 But Soul and Body rent in twain. 
 Did I not moan, and sigh and groan, 
 
 And talk alone, 
 I should believe my Soul were gone from home. 
 
 She's gone, she's gone away I she's fled, 
 Within thy breast to make her bed ; 
 In me there dwells her tenant. Woe, 
 And sighs are all the breath I blow. 
 Then come to me ! One touch of thee 
 
 Will make me see 
 Whether, living thus, alive or dead I be. 
 
 In Clement Robinson's Handefull of Pleasant Ddites, 1584 
 (a book which Shakespeare knew), is A Nosegay always sweet : 
 
 ' Marigold is for ]\Iarriage, that would our minds sufiice, 
 Lest that suspicion of us twain by any means should rise.' 
 
 John Lyly says in his panegyric on Queen Elizabeth 
 (Euphuesaiidhis lingland, 1580 : 186S, p. 462), 'This is she that 
 resembling the noble Queen of Navarre, useth the Marigold 
 for her flower, which at the rising of the Sun openeth her 
 leaves, and at the setting shutteth them ; referring all her 
 actions and endeavours to Him that ruleth the Sun.' 
 
 Page 48. — ' The Rapture.' Pietro Aretino had grown to 
 be proverbially supreme for licentiousness, in consequence of 
 his comment on the ' Postures ' of Julio Romano and Marc 
 Antonio, as the younger Cr^billon became afterwards with 
 'The Sofa.' William Browne, in Britannia's Pastorals, 
 Book I. song ii., line 766, alluded to Aretine as a corrupter 
 of youth, and his own self-expostulates against such writing 
 is not without force : — 
 
 ' Whose well-tuned ears, chaste object-loving eyne, 
 Ne'er heard nor saw the works of Aretine,'' 
 
 It would have utterly destroyed the scholarly value of this 
 edition of Carew, to have omitted ' The Rapture,' or even 
 ' The Second Rapture ' which is brought into sequence with 
 it. They are indiscreetly warm and outspoken, it is true ; 
 but not a tenth part so vicious as are the sickly sentimental 
 pruriencies and pruderies of our Fin de Steele poets. After
 
 APPENDIX NOTES. 223 
 
 all, let it be remembered, Thomas C.arew was a man, with a 
 man's failings, but also with a man's courage and gentleness. 
 We disbelieve the jesting slander unwarrantably brought 
 against him by Sir John Suckling, and consider that Hales 
 of Eton had no less calumniously exaggerated any charges 
 of immorality, whilst pluming himself in the conceit that 
 he was not as other men — even as this Publican. No proof 
 exists that Carew ever descended to be a seducer or an 
 adulterer. 'If he loved rashly, his life paid for wrong,' in 
 his failure to attain a higher social rank than 'sewer to His 
 Majesty, and gentleman of the Privy Chamber.' 
 
 Unwilling to distui'b the text (beyond a rectification of 
 * aboue ' for the misprint ' ahout ' — an unusual looseness of 
 phrase at such early date), we hesitate as to the girl's age : 
 Carew could have had no tainted passion for unripe fruit. 
 Juliet, of the Capnlets, was not fourteen years old, by ' a 
 fortnight and odd days — curae Lammas-eve' — when her 
 mother wished her to marry (and married she became, 
 speedily), saying, 
 
 ' Well, think of marriage now ! Younger than you 
 Here in "Verona, ladies of esteem. 
 Are made already mothers. By my count, 
 I was your mother much upon these 3'ears 
 That you are now a maid.' 
 
 This was in Italy, indeed, hut Shakespeare seldom wanders 
 far from hcmie, for local colour or chronological exactness. 
 It , was not unusual to ' contract ' and to solemnise such 
 early weddings in England, especially among the gentry and 
 nobility. Thirteen is the misprinted text of Carew, 1640 : — 
 ' Give me a wench about thirteen ! ' 
 
 We must read ' above ' if we retain ' thirteen ; ' but ' above 
 fifteen' is the Trowbesh MS. correction. Listen to a song 
 by Carew's contemporary William Cartwright (Ben Jonson 
 said, ' My son Cartwright writes like a man ') : the song, 
 circa 1640, belongs to his play The Ordinary, act iii. scene 3. 
 It is sung by one unseen, the lover thinking meanwhile, 
 ' My Fair is hallowing her lute with her blest touch.' 
 
 Love Admits no Delay. 
 {Music hj Henry Lawes.) 
 
 COME, O come ! I brook no stay : 
 He doth not love that can delay : 
 See how the stealing Night 
 Hath blotted out tlie light, 
 And tapers do supply the Day.
 
 224 APPENDIX NOTES. 
 
 To be chaste is to be old, 
 
 Aud that foolish Girl that's cold 
 
 Is fourscore at fifteen : 
 
 Desires do write us green, 
 And looser flames our youth unfold. 
 
 The Lover {Mcamcell) now rightly guesses that, not his mis- 
 tress, but her waiting-maid, Priscllla, has been singing : — 
 
 ' It cannot be her ! her voice was ne'er profaned 
 With such immodest numbers.' 
 
 He scarcely awaits the final stanzas, but they follow thus : 
 
 See, the first taper's almost gone 1 
 
 Thy flame, like that, will straight be none, 
 
 And I, as it, expire. 
 
 Not able to hold fire ; 
 She loseth time that lies alone. 
 
 O let us cherish then these powers, 
 Whiles' we yet can call them ours : 
 
 Then we best spend our time, 
 
 When no dull zealous Chime 
 But sprightful kisses strike the hours. 
 
 Abraham Cowley sings thus, in 'The Inconstant,' 1647, 
 
 ' I never yet could see that face which had no dart for me ; 
 'Frova fijkeen years to fifty's space, they all victorious be.' 
 
 The judicious epicure in love would rather accept two_ 
 sweethearts, each of fifteen years old ; than one, of thirty. 
 
 Tom D'Urfey illustrates the same precocity of virginal 
 charms, with commendable discretion, in his quaint ditty, 
 
 Kingston Church : 
 
 A SONG. 
 
 SWEET, use your time ; abuse your time 
 No longer, but be wise ! 
 Young lovers now discover )'ou 
 Have beauty they can prize. 
 But if you're coy, you'll lose the joy, 
 
 So curst will be the fate : 
 The flower will fade, you'll die a maid, 
 And mourn your chance too late.
 
 APPENDIX NOTES. 225 
 
 At thirteen years and fourteen years 
 
 The virgin's heart may range ; 
 'Twist fifteen years and fifty years 
 
 You'll find a wondrous change : 
 Then, whilst in tune, in May and June, 
 
 Let love and youth agree, 
 For if ycm stay till Christmas day 
 
 The devil shall woo ivr me. 
 
 Pages 54, 55. — Few students of history in these later days 
 are able or willing to concede any praise, howsoever justly due, 
 to George Villiers, first Duke of iiuckingham. The wave of 
 democracy is bursting on us, and all courtiers or royalists 
 are overwhelmed. Yet we see no room to doubt the perfect 
 sincerity of Carew's tributary lines, and their virtual truth, 
 towards the generous patron and friend who was slain by 
 the gloomy fanatic, John Felton, at Portsmouth, in 1628. 
 
 As to the 'conceit,' about the monument having been wept 
 by the mourning and widowed Uuchess (who had loved her 
 husband devotedly, in spite of his infidelities, which she did 
 not see), critics should remember that it was the fashion of 
 tlie day, and that nearly every public writer sought to indulge 
 in such popular tricks of style. The phrases ' hatch'd a 
 cherubin ' (p. 53), 'uukneaded dough-baked prose' (p. ill), 
 ' surfeit on grief . . . upon what catcs you sit, glutting your 
 sorrows ' (p. 109), 'grew a Bird of Paradise ' (p. 34), 'nest of 
 spice' (p. 43), or the strained fancies about the King's sick- 
 ness of small-pox in 1633 (p. 32), are not in conformity with 
 our modern canons. Prudery and super-subtle fastidiousness 
 may disparage such poems for au occasional flaw ; but much 
 worse can often be found in the writings of Donne, of Cowley, 
 and of Waller : such faults as are amply exemplified, and 
 criticised with unmitigated severity by Sam. Johnson, in his 
 Lives B. P., article Cowley. Suckling was preserved from 
 such errors by his finer sense of humour, which detected 
 tlie burlesque side of all emotion. But no one thought the 
 less of Carew for any strained hj'perbole. All can admire 
 his 'Eddy' (p. 12), or 'Lips and Eyes,' p. 4; yet each is 
 based on what is termed a conceit. Why rail at a fleeting 
 fashion, seeing that we ourselves of later time are slaves 
 to similar, or worst; 'i. 
 
 Page 61. — This address to Ben Jonson, although a rebulce 
 for his intemperate outburst of scorn against the witless 
 public, is full of noble friendship and admiration. The man 
 had been accounted foremost of his day, dictator, tyrant, and 
 benefactor, whose applause gave fame, and whose censure 
 
 P
 
 226 APPENDIX NOTES. 
 
 was condemnation. We love well his rugged honesty and 
 independence, also his indisputable genius. It was no idle 
 boast of his, that he was descended from the Johnsons of 
 Annandale, for all the finer qualities of the true Scot met 
 in him. ' rare Ben Jonson ! ' 
 
 With his warm appreciation of Jonson, we may feel sure 
 that if Carew liad survived the dramatist hmg enough he 
 would have written a later contribution to 'Johnsonius 
 Verbius.' The absence therefrom of any such poem clearly 
 marks the date of Carew's own death as 1638. 
 
 Ben Jonson's comedy, the 'Xew Inn ; or, The Light Heart : ' 
 This inaiispiciously-named comedy was produced on the 
 stage, 19th January i6f § ; but so badly acted that the fickle 
 and irresponsive public condemned it unheard, not suffering 
 it to continue to the end, even at a single performance. In 
 Jonson's own words, it was ' most negligently played by 
 some, the "King's Servants ;" and more squeamishly beheld 
 and censured by others, the King's Subjects, 1629.' He 
 printed it in 1 631, and the bitterness of his indignation, 
 aroused by such treatment as he had received, found 
 expression in the celebrated ' Ode ' (To Himself), beginning, 
 
 ' Come, leave the loathed Stage, 
 
 And the more loathsome Age ! 
 Where pride and impudence, in faction knit, 
 
 Usurp the chair of Wit ; 
 Indicting and arraigning every day 
 Something they call a play. 
 
 Let their fastidious, vain 
 
 Commission of the brain 
 Run on and rage, sweat, censure, and condemn, 
 They were not made for thee : less thou for them.' 
 
 Five stanzas follow. Jonson was then in his fifty-seventh 
 year, and his had been a stormy life, in many ways, so that 
 he had become aged before his time. No wonder is it that 
 he felt the sting of ingratitude and insult keenly. His auto- 
 cratic rule had not been borne so long without a suppressed 
 rebellion, and the vicious tribe of obscure satirists took 
 advantage of their opportunity to poison the wound. Owen 
 Feltham, author of ' Resolves,' 1626, became the foremost 
 assailant, beginning his mocking ' Answer ' thus : — 
 
 ' Come, leave this saucy way 
 
 Of baiting those that pay 
 Dear for the sight of your declining wit : 
 
 'Tis known it is not fit 
 That a stale poet, just contempt once thrown, 
 
 Should cry up thus his own,' etc. (60 lines.)
 
 APPENDIX NOTES. 227 
 
 Jonson's frieiuis came forward in liis defence, Thomas 
 Randolph and honest John Cleaveland repeating the same 
 form of Ode ; liandolph beginning, ' Ben ! do not leave the 
 stage, 'Cause 'tis a loathsome age, For pride and impudeucLi 
 will grow too bold ; ' and Cleaveland starting tlius, ' Proceed 
 in thy brave rage. Which hatii raised up our stage, Unto 
 that height as Rome in all her state, or Greece might 
 emulate.' But Thomas Caiew wrote, as he would have 
 spoken, temperately, firmly and affectionately, in mild 
 remonstrance. His exhortation of 'Trust thou to after 
 days ! ' was the wiser policy. Well sang our noble Walter 
 Savage Landor, in 1859, echoing his own loved Milton's 
 ' Veniet cordatior a-tas ; Siijuid meremur sana posteritas 
 sciet ' {Pocmata) : — 
 
 ' A few will cull my fruit, and like the taste, 
 And find not overmuch to pare away. 
 The soundest apples are not soonest ripe, 
 In some dark room laid up when others rot.' 
 
 And surely this is also true of Thomas Carew liimself, 
 whose unhasting care was censured by the trifler Suckling, 
 coarsely reproaching his Muse as ' hard-bound.' The elegance 
 and accurate polish of poems is not won without labor limce. 
 
 Page 64. — In the eighth line 'compare' is used as a noun, 
 equivalent to 'comparison,' sometimes misprinted 'compard.' 
 Of the variations here, we follow the 1640 edition, and Had. 
 MS. 6057, ' tresses,' not the aftectedly 'twin'd haires ' of other 
 MSS. ; and ' Fair Goddess ! since thy feature,' not 'for.' 
 
 ' But, as you are divine in outward view. 
 So be within as fair, as good, as ti'ue.' 
 
 Of date probably earlier than 1640, and contained in 
 that year's edition of Wit's I'litcrprcter (there entitled, 'What 
 is most to be liked in a Mistress'), reprinted into Choice 
 Drollery, 1656, is a song embodying Carew's prayer: — 
 
 Upon Kind and True Love. 
 
 TIS not how witty, nor how free. 
 Nor yet how beautiful she be, 
 But how much kind and true to me : 
 Freedom and Wit none can confine. 
 And Beauty like the sun doth shine, 
 But Kind and True are only mine. 
 
 Let others with attention sit 
 To listen, and admire iier wit : 
 On that same rock I'll never split.
 
 228 APPENDIX NOTES. 
 
 Let others dote upon her ej'es, 
 And burn their hearts for sacrifice : 
 Beauty's a calm where danger lies. 
 
 But Kind and True have long been tried, 
 A Harbour where we may confide, 
 And safely there at anchor ride. 
 From change of winds we there are free, 
 And need not fear Storms' tyranny, 
 Nor Pirate, though a Prince he be. 
 
 Like another song, that accompanied it in Choice Drollery, 
 1656, probably by the same author, 'Upon liis Constant 
 Mistress,' beginning, 'She's not the fairest of her name' 
 {i.e. Freeman), it is anonymous ; but both are said to have 
 been written by Aurelian Townsend, Carew's friend, who is 
 mentioned affectionately on pp. 113-115. (See p. 243.) 
 
 Cf. p. 179.] Pages 65, 73. — It seemed better to include these two 
 doubtful poems, 'The Enquiry' and 'The Primrose,' both 
 of them belonging to the 1640 edition of Carew, although 
 it is possible they may be Robert Herrick's, they being 
 printed in 1648, as Xos. 263 and 582 of the Eesperides. But 
 in 'The Enquiry,' the allusion to the tulip bears affinity to 
 ' leaves of crimson tulips,' of p. 90, which is Carew's. 
 
 Whether we give to Herrick or to Carew ' The Enquiry ' 
 (celebrating Elizabeth Wlieeler), with its fourth line that 
 explains the title — ' Where may I find my Shepherdess ? ' we 
 recall the Reply, written by Aurelian Townsend (p. 243) : — 
 
 His Mistress Fouxd. 
 
 THOU Shepherd, whose intentive eye 
 O'er every larnb is such a spy. 
 No wily fox can make them less, — 
 Where may I find my Shepherdess ? 
 
 A little pausing, then said he, 
 
 'How can that jewel stray from thee? 
 
 In Summer heat, in Winter cold, 
 
 I thought thy breast had been her fold.' 
 
 That is indeed the constant place 
 Wherein my thoughts still see her face. 
 And print her image in my heart ; 
 But yet my fond eyes crave a part. 
 
 With that, he smiling said, ' I might 
 Of Chloris partly have a sight ; 
 And some of her perfections meet 
 In everv flower was fresli and sweet.
 
 APPENDIX NOTES. 229 
 
 ' The growing Lilies bear her .skin, 
 The Violet her blue veins within ; 
 The blushing Rose new blown and spread, 
 Her sweeter cheek, her lip the red. 
 
 ' The winds that wanton with the Spring 
 Such odours as her breathing bring. 
 But the resemblance of her eyes 
 Was never found beneath the skies. 
 
 ' Her charming voice, who strives to hit, 
 His object, must be higher yet ; 
 For heaven and earth, and all we see 
 Dispersed, collected is but She ! ' 
 
 Amazed at this discourse, me thought, 
 Love with ambition in me wrought. 
 And made nie covet to engross 
 A wealth, would prove a public loss. 
 
 With that I sigh'd : ashamed to see 
 Such worth in her, such want in me : 
 And, closing both mine eyes, forbid 
 The world my sight, since she was hid. 
 
 Page 66. — 'O my dearest, I shall grieve thee.' For 
 this we have decided to retain the old spelling in the 
 title, ^Love's Complement;' meaning the total fulfilment of 
 Beauty, for Love's entii'e satisfaction : not merely a modern 
 'Compliment,' as a flattering phrase. Of old the word held 
 both meanings, as is shown in the title of ' The Academy of 
 Complements,' 1640, etc., though even there also it suggests 
 'of Completion.' 
 
 Sometimes called ' Celia Altogether.' Half a century 
 earlier, before 1593 (we need not here enquire how the idea 
 had been expressed in more remote antiquity), Christopher 
 Marlowe had written to the same effect, in a poem seldom 
 remembered. It was printed circa 1597, at end of the 'At 
 Middleborugh ' earliest known edition of ' Epigrammes and 
 Elegies,' but disguisedly marked 'Ignoto.' (Although it was 
 speedily forgotten, the poem which followed next to it, in 
 1^97, was revived in popularity by Wit's Interpreter, 1655, 
 and Westminster Drollenj, 167 1, the lines beginning 'Fair 
 wench, I cannot court thy sprightly eyes,' altered into 
 'Madam, I cannot,' etc.) Marlowe's so-called 'Sonnet,' is 
 of the loosely-constructed Quatorzain sort that Shakespeare 
 used later for his own ' Sonnets.' Marlowe's may faii-ly be 
 deemed the original sugge.stion for Carew's song.
 
 230 APPENDIX NOTES. 
 
 r LOVE thee not for sacred Chastity : 
 
 -L Who loves for that ? nor for th}' sprightly wit. 
 
 I love thee not for thy sweet modesty, 
 
 Which makes thee in Perfection's throne to sit. 
 
 I love thee not for thy enchanting eye, 
 Thy beauty's ravishing perfection : 
 I love thee not for unchaste luxury. 
 Nor for thy body's fair proportion. 
 
 I love thee not for that my soul doth dance 
 And leap with pleasure, when those lips of thine 
 Give musical and graceful utterance. 
 To some (by thee made happy) poet's line. 
 
 text, 'slender.'] I love thee not for voice or [fingers] small, 
 
 But wilt thou know, wherefore ? fair sweet ! for all. 
 
 Here is another Song (found of no earlier date than 1669) :- 
 
 I LOVE thee, not because thou'rt fair, 
 Or 'cause thou art virtuous too ; 
 Though in them both is power enough 
 To make a Prince to woo. 
 
 Nor love I thee for those sweet lips, 
 
 Nor for thy dimpled chin ; 
 Though in them both is poM'er enough 
 
 To tempt a Saint to sin. 
 
 Nor love I thee for those bright eyes. 
 Which shine like Lamps of Love : 
 
 'Twas not these hwely curled locks 
 Did my affection move. 
 
 Nor love I thee for those fair cTieeks, 
 
 Where damask roses grow. 
 Nor for that lovely neck of thine, 
 
 And breasts like hills of Snow. 
 
 Nor love I thee, because thou once 
 Disdain'dst my love to see. 
 
 Was there e'er such amorous flames 
 As may be foimd in me ? 
 
 Since Love and Virtue now are lodged 
 Within thy breast to grow ; 
 
 I'll love thee still in spite of Fate ; 
 And let the world this know.
 
 APPENDIX NOTES. 231 
 
 Whosoever wrote the 2i lines, 'From a Gentleman to his 
 Mistress,' printed in 1655 ( ^ViCs Interpreter, p. 69), beginning, 
 'Temptation breeds those love-attracting flowers, That 
 grow upon thy cheeks, Love's bowers,' indulged himself 
 boldly in plagiarism from Carew's 'O my dearest, I shall 
 grieve thee,' stealing without change the red coral lips, 
 and other couplets. In 'Disdain Return'd,' beginning, 
 ' Wert thou much fairer than thou art, which lies not in 
 the power of art,' the final (third) stanza runs thus:— 
 
 ' I love thee not because thou'rt fair, 
 Softer than down, smoother than air ; 
 N<ir for the Cupids that do lie 
 In evei'y corner of thine eye : 
 
 Would you then know what it may be ? 
 'Tis I love you 'cause you love me ! ' 
 
 Page 69. — In 1658, wht n the scattered Cavaliers began to 
 look forward confidently to the approach of more settled 
 times, and even of a Restoration to the monarchy, some of 
 them gathered the fugitive verses ; as E. Phillips, Sir Jolin 
 Menzies, and Dr. James Smith had done in 1656 with 
 at least three collections (Sportive Wit, Parnassus Biceps, 
 and The Muses Recreation). By a well -understood hint, 
 they entitled one Wit Restored. They therein gave Carew's 
 ' Ask me no more whither do stray,' as ' The Reply,' after 
 this commencement : — 
 
 A Question. 
 
 ' T ASK thee whence those ashes were 
 1 Which shrine themselves in plaits of hair 1 ' 
 Unknown to me : sure each morn dies 
 A PhcEnix for a sacrifice. 
 
 ' I ask whence are those airs that fly 
 From birds in sweetest harmony ? ' 
 Unknown to me ; but sure the choice 
 Of accents echo'd from her voice. 
 
 ' I ask thee whence those active fires 
 Take light, which glide through burnish'd air ? ' 
 Unknown to me : unless there flies 
 A flash of lightning from her eyes. 
 
 ' I ask thee whence those ruddy blooms 
 Perch on her cheeks, [as] scarlet gowns ? ' ['• ' ^''^rce. 
 
 Unknown to me : sure that which flies 
 From fading Roses, her cheek dyes.
 
 232 APPENDIX NOTES. 
 
 ' I'll ask thee of the Lily, whence 
 It gain'd that type of Innocence ? ' 
 Unknown to me : sure Nature's deck 
 Was ravish'd from her snowy neck. 
 
 Then follows (unacknowledged as being his) 'The Reply ' 
 by Carew, ' Ask me no more, whither do stray, the golden 
 atoms of the day ' ' (our p. 69 ; but, transposing the stanzas 
 into different order, as in Laives' Ayres, thus, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 
 1st, and 5th). Next comes, from Wifs Interfreier, 1656 : — 
 
 The Lover's Mistake. 
 
 TELL me no more, Her eyes are like 
 To rising Suns, that wonder strike ; 
 For if 'twere so, how could it be 
 They could be thus eclipsed to me ? 
 
 Tell me no more. Her breasts do grow 
 Like melting Hills of rising Snow : 
 For if 'twere so, how could they lie 
 So near the Sunshine of her eye. 
 
 Tell me no more, the restless spheres 
 Compared to her voice fright our ears ; 
 For if 'twere so, how then could death 
 Dwell with such discord in her breath ? 
 
 No, say, Her eyes portenters are 
 Of ruin, or some blazing Star : 
 Else would I feel from that fair fire 
 Some heat to cherish my desire. 
 
 Say that her breasts, though cold as snow. 
 Are hard as marble when I woo ; 
 Else they would soften and relent, 
 With sighs inflamed from me sent. 
 
 Say that, although She, like the Moon, 
 Is heavenly fair, yet change as soon ; 
 Else she would constant once remain. 
 Either to Pity or Disdain : 
 
 That so, by one of them, I might 
 Be kept alive or murder'd quite ; 
 f. ' For 'tis.'] 'Tis no less cruel than to kill, 
 
 Where life doth but increase the ilL
 
 APPENDIX NOTES. 233 
 
 The Mock-Song. \cf. p. 235. 
 
 I TELL you true, whereon doth light 
 The dusky shade of banish'd Night ; 
 For in just vengeance heavens allow 
 It still should shine upon your brow. 
 
 I tell you true where men may seek 
 The sound which once the Owl did shriek ; 
 For in your false dividing throat 
 It lies, and death is in its note. 
 
 I tell you true, whither doth pass 
 The smiling look out of a glass ; 
 It leaps into your face, for there 
 A falser shadow doth appear. 
 
 I'll tell you true, whither are blown 
 The airy wheels of Thistle-down ; 
 They fly into your mind, whose care 
 Is to be light as Thistles are. 
 
 I tell you true, within what nest 
 
 The stranger Cuckoo's eggs do rest ; 
 
 It is your bosom, which can keep 
 
 Nor him, nor them, where one should sleep. 
 
 The MoDEKATEIX. [Lady's Answer. 
 
 I'LL tell 3'ou where's another Sun, 
 That sets, as rising it begun : 
 It is my self, who keeps one sphere ; 
 And were the same, if men so were. 
 
 What need I tell, that life and death 
 May pass in sentence from one breath ? 
 So issue, from my equal heart, 
 Both love and scorn for men's desert. 
 
 I'll tell you in what iieavenly hell 
 An Angel and a Fiend may dwell : 
 It is mine eye, whose glassy brook 
 Sends back the gazer's diverse look. 
 
 I'll tell you in a diverse scale 
 
 One weight can up and downwards hale ; 
 
 You call me Thistle ; you, a Kose ; 
 
 I neither am, yet both of those.
 
 234 APPENDIX NOTES. 
 
 I'll tell you where both frost and fire 
 In peace of common seat conspire ; 
 My frozen breast, that flint is like, 
 Yet yields a fire if you will strike. 
 
 Then you tiiat love, and you that loathe, 
 With one aspect I answer both : 
 For round about me glows a fire, 
 Can melt and harden gross desire. 
 
 Man Replies.] The AFFIRMATIVE ANSWER. 
 
 OH no ! Heaven saw men's fancies stray 
 To idolize both dust and clay ; 
 That emblem gave that they might see 
 Your Beauty's date but dust must be. 
 
 No Philomel when Summer's gone 
 Hastes to the wood, her rape to moan : 
 (Unwilling her's,) ashamed to see 
 Your (unlike her's) unchastity. 
 
 Oh no, those Stars fly but the sight 
 Of what you act in dead of night : 
 Ashamed themselves should Pandars prove 
 In your unsatiate beastly love. 
 
 Oh no, that Rose, when June is past 
 Looks pale as with a poisonous blast ; 
 And such your beauty, when-as Time 
 Like Winter shall o'ertake your prime. 
 
 Oh no, the Phcenix shuns the place, 
 And fears the lustful fires t' embrace 
 Of your hot breast and barren womb, 
 As Death, or some perpetual Tomb. 
 
 This is a ' most lame and ' impudent ' conclusion.' They 
 might have avoided Carew's song if they could not better 
 ' rush in, where angels fear to tread.' But irreverence can 
 parody or caricature what it affects to admire. In 1660 
 Carew's original ' Ask me no more ! ' was reprinted, with 
 other purloined poems, and actually mis-attributed to 
 William Herbert, Earl of Pembroke. Of the 'Echo' or 
 'Mock' (on p. 233), a version appeared in the Westrninster 
 Drollery, 1671 ; it cannot be called an improvement : —
 
 APPENDIX NOTES. 235 
 
 I'LL tell you true, whither do stray 
 The darkness which succeeds the day ; 
 For Heaven's vengeance did allow 
 It still should frown upon your Brow. 
 
 I'll tell you true, where may be found 
 
 A voice that's like the Screech-Owl's sound ; 
 
 For in your false deriding throat 
 
 It lies, and death is in its note. 
 
 I'll tell you true, whither doth pass 
 The smiling look seen in the glass ; 
 For in your face reflect' it there 
 False as your shadow doth appear. 
 
 I'll tell you true, whither are blown 
 The angry whirls of Thistle-down ; 
 It flies into your mind, whose care 
 Is to be light, as Thistles are. 
 
 I'll tell you true, within what nest 
 The Cuckoo lays her eggs to rest : 
 It is your bosom, which can keep 
 Nor him nor them : Farewell, I'll sleep. 
 
 But of all idle and unprofitable labours the writing 
 lampoons on false maidens or cast mistresses is the worst. 
 Poets cannot thereby amend them, and if it could be done, 
 it would lead to no happiness ; they being damaged articles, 
 and not wanted back again. Carew himself knew this well, 
 and kept constant to a single love, in whom he found ample 
 variety, owing to her changeful humours. 
 
 Another imitation is the ' Dialogue concerning Hair 
 between a Man and a Woman,' which begins with the man's 
 self-answered enquiry, 'Ask me no more, why I do wear my 
 hair so far below my ear.' Patherike Jenkyns has a song, 
 beginning 'Ask me not why the Rose doth fade.' It is 
 entitled 'On the Death of his Mistress,' and is in his 
 Anwrea, 1661. There is another memorable parody, or 
 Mock-Song, as it was called, of Carew's original. It was 
 written by Thomas Jordan, author of Poetical Varieties, 
 numerous civil-war ballads, and a few Civic Entertainments 
 for Lord Mayor Shows, after the Restoration. This parody 
 was circulated in 1642, when it was alike popular and 
 persecuted. Also known as ' Pym's Anarchy.' It is in ' Royal 
 Arbor of Loyal Poesie, consisting of Poems and Songs,' 1664. 
 It powerfully describes the early days of mob tyranny, 
 which Carew fortunately survived not long enough to see.
 
 236 
 
 APPENDIX NOTES. 
 
 a.l. 'protect.] 
 
 Jnhn, Lord i 
 
 Finch of Ford- 
 zoych : flfd | 
 
 1641, p. 82. J 
 
 Ob, II May 1640.] 
 
 The Resolction. 1642. 
 
 ASK me no more, why there appeal's 
 Daily such troops of Dragoneers ? 
 Since it is requisite, you know ; 
 They rob cum iirivilegio. 
 
 Ask me not why the gaol coniines 
 Our Hierarchy of best Divines? 
 Since 'tis allow'd, b}' full consent, 
 ' The Privilege of Parliament.' 
 
 Ask me no more, why from BlacJc-will 
 Such tumults come unto ]Vhite-haJl ? 
 Since some in Parliament agree 
 ' 'Tis for the Subjects' Liberty ! ' 
 
 Ask me not, why to London comes 
 So many muskets, pikes, and drums. 
 So that we fear the\-'ll never cease ? 
 'Tis to procure the Kingdom's peace ! 
 
 Ask me no more, why little Finch 
 From Parliament began to flinch ? 
 Since such as dare to hawk at kings 
 May easily clip a Finch's wings. 
 
 Ask me no more, why StrafforcVs dead, 
 Or why they aim'd so at his head? 
 Faith, all the reason I can give, 
 'Tis thouifht he was too wise to live. 
 
 Edw. Bering, 
 Sir Soger 
 Twysden. 
 
 Alex. Lesley, ~\ 
 a.l. Livesley.j 
 
 Ask me no more, where's all the plate 
 Brought in at such an easy rate ? 
 It to the Owners back they'll bring, 
 In case it fall not to the King. 
 
 Ask me not, why the House delights 
 Not in our two wise Kentish Knights ? 
 Their counsel never was thought good, 
 Because they were not understood. 
 
 Ask me no more, why Leshy goes 
 To seize all rich men as his foes? 
 Whilst countrj' farmers sigh and sob : 
 Yeomen may beg, when Knights do rob.
 
 APPENDIX NOTES. 237 
 
 Ask me no more, by what strange slight 
 
 London s Lord Mayor was made a knight ? rSir Isaac 
 
 Since there's a strength sprung out of war, \_ Penning ion. 
 That can at once both make and mar. 
 
 Ask me no more, why in this age 
 
 I sing so free without a cage ? [I.e. outside. 
 
 My answer is, I need not fear : 
 
 All Eiujland doth the burden bear. 
 
 Ask me no more (for I grow dull), 
 
 Why Hotham keeps the town of Hull '! 
 
 This answer I in brief do sing : 
 
 All things were thus when Pym was K[ing]. 
 
 Tom Jordan altered these words, after 1648, into 'I'll 
 answer ye one word for all : All thiijgs are thus when 
 kings do fall.' The last stanza, unless it were a post- 
 script, serves to date the ballad as immediately following 
 after Sir John Hotham's treasonable refusal to admit King- 
 Charles into Hull, at the end of April 1642. Hotham met 
 his fate, nevertheless, at the hands of the Parliament, along 
 with his son : ' Treason doth never prosper,' Harrington said. 
 
 Page 73. — See note on p. 65. There are variations in the 
 other version, which is No. 582 in the Hes^xterides, 1648 ; 
 where it reads, 'This sweet Infanta of the Year? . . . thus 
 bepearl'd ... 7 w'dl whisper . . . are viixd with tears.' 
 Second stanza, ' / tvill answer- : These discover What 
 fainting h'>pes are in a lover.' Carew's own rendering' is 
 the earlier and better : we need not doubt that he wrote it. 
 
 Page 78. — 1640 text is, ' Rose, sticking upon,' not ' worn.' 
 
 Page 81.— See note p. 24S, on Cecilia Crofts and Thomas 
 Killigrew. The Bride's strewing of nuts at wedding feasts 
 preceded throwing the stocking, and struggling for points. 
 
 Page 82. — Sir John Finch {cf. p. 233) failed to confirm his 
 ' election ' of the lady, and she remained Anne Wentworth 
 until she was married by John, 2nd Lord Lovelace. Whether 
 she had been fickle, or some difficulty about dower flutter'd 
 the Finch and made it take wing, is not apparent. But 
 criminals on trial found out ' how the stern Law breathes ' 
 harsh sentences after personal disappointment had invaded 
 the Bench. When 'cruelty is sunk to hell' it finds a way 
 back again. It had not far to travel, upward, at tliat time.
 
 238 APPENDIX NOTES. 
 
 Page 88. — 'Grieve not, my Cdia,^ was added in 165 1 (with 
 pp. 90, 91) : Some Additional Poems by the Same Author. 
 
 Page 89. — There is no e.xternal evidence to confirm tlie 
 attribution of this song to Carew. Given anonymously in 
 Wit's Interpreter. It were well to see it established as his, 
 even on manuscript autliority, although such is frequently 
 valueless. ' Come, mj' Cdia ! ' is worthy of him. 
 
 Page 90. — We have to transpose words, not innovate 
 fresh, to make the fourth stanza intelligible. It reads, ' As 
 two fair Pillars understand Statues two.' These ' two suns 
 in a heaven of snow ' meet us on p. 1 86. They shone before, 
 on p. 64. They reappear at beginning of 'The Lover's 
 Mistake ' (our p. 232), in answer to Carew's 'Ask me no more.' 
 
 Also, in tlie song beginning " Swift as the feet of Leda I, 
 will to Olympus' flower'd bosom fly," we read, 'Her neck's a 
 tower of snow,' and of her eyes 'You'd swear two Suns at 
 once broke through the skies.' With the 'Lover's Mistake,' 
 it was printed iu New Academy of Oomjilemcnts, 1669. 
 
 Page 92. — ' Farewell, fair Saint ! ' The external evidence 
 is wholly in favour of the other T. C, Thomas Gary, or 
 Carey, of the Bedchamber, whom Henry Lawes, or his 
 publisher, John Playford, distinctly names in 1655 as the 
 author. Anthony h Wood, in his Fasti, i. 352, mentions 
 Henry Carey, ' the frequent translator of books,' afterwards 
 Earl of Monmouth, having been admitted B.A. of Exeter 
 College, Oxon., Feb. 17, 164I, and then adds: — 'Thomas 
 Carey of the same Coll. was admitted on the same day. 
 This Thomas (who was younger brother to the said Henry 
 Carey) was born in Northumberland (while his father. Sir 
 Robert Carey, was Warden of the Marches towards Scot- 
 land), proved afterwards a most ingenious foet, and was 
 author of several poems printed scatteredly iu divers books ; 
 one of which, beginning, " Fareivell, fair Saint," etc., had a 
 vocal composition of two parts set to it, by the sometime 
 famed musician, Henry Lawes. Upon the breaking out of 
 the rebellion in 1642, he adhered to his Majesty, being then 
 of the bedchamber to, and much esteemed by, him. But 
 after th:it good king had lost his head, he [T. C] took it so 
 much to heart, that he fell suddenly sick, and died before 
 the expiration of the year 1648 [i.e. which extended to 25 
 March 164I, Old Style], aged 58, or thereabouts. Soon 
 after, his body was buried in a vault (the burying-place 
 of his family) xmder St. John Bapt. chappel, within the 
 precincts of St. Peter's Church in Westminster.'
 
 APPENDIX NOTES. 239 
 
 IT. Lawes' Aijrcs, 1653, has both names in full : — ist. Mr. 
 Tho. Carii, son to the Earl of Monmouth, and of the Bed- 
 chamber to his late Majesty. 2nd. Mr. Thomas Carno, Gen- 
 tleman of the Privy Chamber, and Sewer to his late Majesty. 
 
 ' Carcw of ancient Caru is, and Carru is a plough ; 
 Romans the trade, Frenchmen the word, I do the name avow,' 
 — Tho. Westcote's View of Devonshire, p. 106. 
 
 On the other hand, it is to be remembered that (except two 
 songs in Lawes' Ayrcs, these in dispute) the available materials 
 extant by which to judge of Thomas Carey's holding the 
 requisite poetical power.-i, to contest even these few leaves 
 of the wreath worn by Thomas Carew, are wofully inadequate. 
 We take a favourable specimen, an extract, verbatim el 
 literatim, from Thomas Carey's descriptions in Jean Puget 
 de la Serre's TJie Mirrour which flatters not, translated in 
 163I, the very time of Carevv"s last sickness. 
 
 Relating to the First Emblem, 
 
 WHEN haughtie thoughts impuffe thee, then {text, 'than. 
 Dictate thy selfe, Tliou art but Man, 
 A fabrick of commixed Dust, 
 That's all the prop of humane trust. 
 How dares a Clod of mould'ring Clay 
 Be proud, decaying every day ? 
 And yet there is a way beside, 
 Wherein may be a lawful Pride. 
 When sly temjdations stirre thee, then 
 Againe the word, Thou art a Man ! 
 Rouze up thy Spirits, doe not yeeld, 
 A brave resistance wins the Field. 
 Shall a soul of Heavenly bi-eath 
 Grovell so farre, its worth beneath : 
 Foully to be pollute with slime, 
 Of any base and shameful crime ? 
 Thou art a Man, for Heaven borne. 
 Reflect on Earth disdainefull scorne, 
 Bee not abiis'd, since Life is short. 
 Squander it not away in sport : 
 Nor hazard heaven's eternal Jciyes 
 For a small spurt of worldly Toyes. 
 Doe Somethinrj ere thou doe bequeath 
 To wormes thy flesh, to Aire thy breath ; 
 Something that may, when thou art dead, 
 With honour of thy name be read ;
 
 240 APPENDIX NOTES. 
 
 Something that may, when thou art cold, 
 
 Thaw frozen Spirits, when 'tis told ; 
 
 Somcthinj that may the grave controule, 
 
 And show thou hast a 7ioble Soule. 
 
 Doe SOMETHING, to advance thy bliss 
 Both in the other World and This. 
 
 TowER-HiLL, By Thomas Gary. 
 
 Antepenultimd Augusti, 1638. 
 
 Par/e 97. — The Roman temple of ' Bifrons ' Janus was 
 closed during times of peace. Carew wrote this Ode before 
 1637, ' When first the Scottish wars began.' 
 
 Page 99. — Lucy Countess of Carlisle has been already 
 mentioned on page 218; but seeing how Carew gave poetic 
 expression to sympathy for the widowed Countess of Anglesea 
 (p. 108), in 1630, we remember that Davenant's address 
 to the Countess of Carlisle, in her similar bereavement, 
 touches on her grief, so far as she chose to give any out- 
 ward indication of mourning, in 1636. The lines deserve 
 notice. They are entitled, 'To the Countess of C'irlisle, on 
 the Death of the Earl her Husband,' and begin thus : — 
 
 ' This cyi^ress folded here, instead of lawn ; 
 These tapers winking, and these curtains drawn, 
 What may they mean ? unless to qualify 
 And check the lustre of your eye, you'll try 
 To honour darkness and adorn the night. 
 So strive, thus with your Lord to bury light. 
 Call back your absent beauties to your care I 
 Though clouded and conceal'd, we know you are 
 The Morning's earliest beam, life of the day. 
 The Even's last comfort, and her parting ray. 
 
 But why these tears ? that give him no relief. 
 For whom j^ou waste the virtue of your grief : 
 Such as might be prescribed the earth to drink 
 For cure of her old curse ; tears, you would think 
 Too rich to water (if jou knew their price) 
 The chiefest plant derived from Paradise. 
 But O ! where is a Poet's faith ? how far 
 We are misled : how false our numbers are ! 
 Our Love is passion ; our Religion, rage ; 
 Since to secure that mighty heritage . . .' etc. 
 
 At the same date, on the same occasion, Edmund Waller 
 apo.strophized ' The Countess of Carlisle in Mourning ' : —
 
 APPENDIX NOTES. 241 
 
 ' When from black clouds no part of sky is clear, 
 But just so much as lets the sun appear, 
 Heaven then would seem thy image, and reflect 
 Those sable vestments, and that bright aspect. 
 A spark of virtue by the deepest shade 
 Of sad adversity is fairer made ; 
 
 Nor less advantage doth thy beauty get : 
 A Venus rising from a Sea of Jet !'.... 
 
 ^Vhat follows does not make pretension to seriousness, 
 but is insincere laudation only, unworthy of being called 
 poetry. Thomas Carew in his more sustained elegiac verse 
 always writes with tenderness and feeling. His friendsliip 
 like his love was a reality. Whatever were his faults or 
 follies, they in no degree exceeded the average failings of 
 young men in his time, of good family but restricted means, 
 alternately courted and repelled by the heartless women of 
 beauty and gallantry who lured so many to destruction. 
 
 The adulation paid by Waller to the Countess of Carlisle 
 was so entirely restricted to praise of her sensual charms, 
 her beauty and amatory yielding, that he betrays himself in 
 the lines to this Circe, celebrative ' Of Her Chamber : ' — 
 
 THEY taste of death that do at Heaven arrive ; 
 But we this paradise appi-oach alive. 
 
 Instead of Death, the dart of Love does strike 
 
 And renders all within these walls alike. 
 
 The high in titles, and the shepherd, here 
 
 Forgets his greatness, and forgets his fear : 
 
 All stand amazed, and gazing on the Fair, 
 
 Lose thought of what themselves or others are : 
 
 Ambition lose ; and have no other scope, 
 
 Save Carlisle's favour to employ their hope. 
 
 The Thracian could (tho' all those tales were true [Orpheus. 
 
 The bold Greeks tell) no greater wonders do ; 
 
 Before his feet so sheep and lions lay. 
 
 Fearless and wrathless, while they heard him play. 
 
 The gay, the wise, the gallant, and the grave, 
 
 Subdued alike, all but one passion have : 
 
 No worthy mind, but finds in hers there is 
 
 Something proportioned to the rule of his : 
 
 While she with cheerful but impartial grace, 
 
 (Born for no one, but to delight the race 
 Of men) like Phoibus, so divides her light, 
 And warms us, that she stoops not from her heio-ht. 
 
 Q
 
 242 APPENDIX NOTES. 
 
 Page lo8. — Elizabeth, Countess of Anglesea. She was a 
 daughter of Thomas Sheldon, Esq., of Houby, in Leicester- 
 shire, and her two children were named resjoectively Charles 
 (who succeeded to the title of his father, Christopher, in 1630, 
 as the second and final Earl of Anglesea, dying sine 2^1'olcs 
 in 1659, when his titles became extinct), and Anne, married, 
 first, to Thomas, Viscount Savile, afterwards Earl of Sussex, 
 who died in 1646 ; her second husband was Barde, of Weston. 
 Elizabeth married again, the Hon. Benj. Weston. 
 
 The Countess had been ' led captive by the rebels, at the 
 disforesting oi Peivsani,' '\Y\\is., 1630 (granted by James I. 
 to Clir. VilUers) ; the rioters had held common-rights of 
 pasturage, attested by this current rhyme : — 
 
 ' When Chipp'nam stood in Peivsham' s-Wood, 
 Before it was destroyed, 
 A Cow might have gimne for a groat a yeare : 
 But now it is denoyed.' 
 
 Davenant has a fantastic ' Song ' on that rioting. It is 
 unsympathetic, and mere flattery of her beauty : — 
 
 o 
 
 WHITHER will vou lead the fair 
 And spicy Daughter of the Morn ? 
 Those manacles of her soft hair 
 
 Princes, though free, would fain have worn. 
 
 What is her crime ?- -what has she done ? 
 
 Did she, by breaking Beauty, stay 
 Or from his course mislead the sun ; 
 
 So robb'd your harvest of a day ? 
 
 Or did her voice, divinely clear, 
 
 (Since lately in your Forest bred,) 
 Make all the trees dance after her, 
 
 And so your woods disforested ? 
 
 Run, run ! pursue this Gothic rout, 
 
 Who rudely Love in bondage keep ; 
 Sure all old lovers have the gout : 
 
 The young are over-watch'd, and sleep. 
 
 Amid the anguish could such banter console her ? Was 
 the 'toothache,' of p. 79, reallj' 'cured by a kiss?' 'Owen 
 Meredith' asked in '59, "Is it worth while to guess at all this?' 
 
 Pa/e 114. — Aurclian Toicnsend. This poet has been 
 unjustly neglected, seldom mentioned in modern days, 
 and liis poems are still uncollected, they being scattered 
 throughout MS. miscellanies, and very seldom bearing his
 
 APPENDIX NOTES. 243 
 
 name as author. He is not characterised, only alluded to, by 
 Suckling in liis ' Session of the Puets,' in fact dispai-agingly, 
 after George Sandys (see p. 117), as though nnbefittingly 
 coupled with one greater than himself — ' Sancb/s with 
 2'oivnsend, for they kept no order.' Carew addressed him 
 affectionately, but either mistakenly imagined him to have 
 been the writer of 'The Shepherd's Paradise,' instead of 
 the Hon. Walter Montague, or else left such an ascription 
 to be conceived, by the indefiniteness of his own phraseology. 
 The two friends evidently loved better to toy with themes of 
 love and pastoral pleasures, than such grim realities as the 
 career and death of Major Dugald Dalgetty's hero and 
 leader, Gustavus Adolphus, ' The Lion of the North, and 
 Bulwark of the Protestant Faith,' of whom praise enough 
 was forthcoming elsewhere. By Aurelian Townseud were 
 written the Dialogue betwixt Time and a Pilgrim, beginning, 
 '"Aged man that mows these fields." — "Pilgrim, speak, 
 what is thy will ? " ' — the poem reprinted on our p. 22S, 
 "Thou Shepherd, whose intentive eye ; " and 'A Bacchanal,' 
 commencing with "Bacchus, lacehus, fill our brains!" 
 His truly charming verses 'To the Lady May,' begin 
 " Your smiles are not, as other women's be, only the drawing 
 of the mouth awry" {Speculum Amantis, 1S89, p. 126). 
 They were recovered from one of the Malone MSS. in the 
 Bodleian Library, and printed by Arthur Henry Bullen, 
 best of all poets' editors, whose taste and discrimination 
 far outweigh the criticism of men who 'murder to dissect.' 
 Townsend's masques are, i. — Albion's Triumph. Personated 
 in a Masque at Court, by the King's Majesty and his 
 Lords, the Sunday after Twelfth Night, 1 631. In 4to, 
 12 leaves. 2. — Tempe Restored, a Masque, presented before 
 King Charles I. at Whitehall, on Shrove Tuesday, 1631, by 
 the Queen and fourteen of her ladies. 4to, 1 63 1. The 
 scenery was by Inigo Jones, as in our Ccdum Britannicum. 
 
 There must assuredly have been a singular frankness 
 and affectionate simplicit}' in the disposition of Carew. Of 
 his friendship for others, and their feelings towards him, 
 convincing proofs remain. We have no signs of petty 
 jealousy and spite, no warfare waged against rivals for fame 
 or wealth and courtly fav(;ur, or the smiles of beauty. This 
 was an honest swordsman who disdained to soil his weapon 
 with a foul blow. His praise of Jons()n, at the moment 
 when that rugged dramatist was feeling bitterly the slights 
 and ' spurns which patient merit from the unworthy takes ' 
 — not that Ben was ever sijecially patient — is characterised 
 by a manly truthfulness, which neither degenerates into
 
 244 APPENDIX NOTES. 
 
 servile adulation nor poisons the wound already made by 
 such an enemy as Owen Feltham. 
 
 Sir John Suckling was incapable of understanding Carew, 
 in his final days of sickness and depression, as he had been 
 (and this is conceding much) in their earlier days of reckless 
 
 gallantry. His vile address ' To T C ' etc., ' Troth, 
 
 Tom, I must confess I much admire,' and ending, 'For 
 evermore the water runs away,' is nothing more than 
 coarse badinage, without foundation : in any case not 
 necessarily addressed to Carew, although they were of close 
 acquaintance ; but many other Toms were open to a similar 
 aspersion, since ' T. C might apply to Thomas Carey, to 
 Tiiomas Crosse, and other T. C. poets. Of higher interest 
 is the mention made of Carew by Suckling in his ' Session 
 of the Poets,' although here again there is more paltry and 
 mischievous malignity of tone than can be justified. 
 
 ' A Session was held the other day. 
 And Apollo himself was at it (they say) ; 
 The Laurel, that had been so long reserved, 
 Was now to be given, to him best deserved. 
 
 Therefore the wits of the Town came thither, 
 'Twas strange to see how they ilock'd together, 
 Each strongly confident of his own way, 
 That day thought to carry the Laurel away. 
 
 Tom Carew was next, but lie had a fault, 
 That would not well stand with a Laureat ; 
 I'- 24S.] His Muse was hard-bound, and th' issue of 's brain 
 Was seldom brought forth but with trouble and pain ; 
 
 All that were there present did agree 
 A Laureat Muse should be easy and free : 
 Yet sure, 'was not that, but 'twas thought that his Grace 
 r- 253-] Consider'd he was well, he had a Cup-bearer's place.' 
 
 Suckling has a letter to Carew, concerning ' Countesses ' 
 and 'The Lady of Highgate ' (vol. ii. p. 221, Lib. of Old 
 Authors' edit., 1892). With more hearty good-will than this 
 professed satirist and witling, William Davenant wrote, in 
 badinage, a poem addressed to Carew, printed in 1638, 
 playfully anticipating the death of his friend, but little 
 thinking the grim reality was near. The Kiny-Street here 
 mentioned, where Carew resided when in town, absent from
 
 APPENDIX NOTES. 24o 
 
 his Windsor ' .Suniiingliill,' was King-Street, Westminster 
 (not the later-built King-Street, St. James's : Introduction, 
 p. xxiii.). Daveiiant's lines follow here : — 
 
 To Thomas Carew. 
 
 UPON my conscience, whensoe'er thou diest — 
 Though in the black, the mourning time of Lent, 
 There will be seen, in King's-strcet (where thou liest) 
 More triumjihs than in days of Parliament. 
 
 How glad, and gaudy then will Lovers be ! 
 
 For every Lover that can verses read 
 Hath been so injured by thy Muse and thee. 
 
 Ten thousand thousand times he wish'd thee dead. 
 
 Not but thy Verses are as smooth and high 
 As glory, love, or wine from wit can raise ; 
 
 But now (the devil take such destiny 1) 
 
 What should commend them, turns to their dispraise. 
 
 Thy wit's chief virtue is become its vice, 
 For every Beauty thou hast raised so high, 
 
 That now coarse faces carry such a price 
 As must undo a Lover that should buy. 
 
 Scarce any of the Sex admits commerce ; 
 
 It shames me much to urge this to a friend : 
 But more that they should so mistake thy verse, 
 
 Which meant to conquer, whom it did commend. 
 
 Will D'Avenant, 
 
 Page 1 17. — Verses to George Sandys. His Parwphrase 
 npon the Psalmcs of David, and upon the Hymnes dispersed 
 throughout the Old and New Testaments, was published in 
 1636 ; A Paraphrase iqion the Divine Poems with his name 
 in full, 1638. His Ovid's Metamorphoses Englished was 
 of 1626 ; Dryden praised him as the best versifier of his 
 time. To the first Paraphrase, Carew prefixed lines : — 
 
 OUE. graver Muse from her long dream awakes, 
 Peneian Groves and Cirrha's caves forsakes : 
 Inspired with zeal she climbs th' ethereal Hills 
 Of Solyma, wliere bleeding balm distills ; 
 Where Trees of Life unfading youth assure, 
 And Living Waters all diseases cure.
 
 246 APPENDIX NOTES. 
 
 Few critics have written of Carew with more sweetness 
 and discrimination than Dr Trench, the late Archbishop 
 of Dublin, to hear whom when he lectured at St. Mary's in 
 our undergraduate days at Cambridge the students crowded 
 every available seat. A man of noble presence, in all ways 
 distinguished and admirable. He wrote, 'Carew is com- 
 monly grouped with Waller, and subordinated to him. He 
 is immensely his superior. Waller never wrote a love-song 
 like this [' Ask me no more where Jove bestows,' our p. 69] ; 
 while in many of Carew's lighter pieces there is an under- 
 lying vein of earnestness, which is wholly wanting in the 
 otlier.' — Household Book of English Poetry, p. 403. 
 
 Again, of the lines addressed to George Sandys (p. I17), 
 R. C. Trench wrote, ' This poem will acquire a profound 
 interest, for those at least who count there is something 
 better in the world than Art [" for Art's sake," as the later 
 phrase runs], when we read it in the light of the fact men- 
 tioned by Lord Clarendon in his History of the lichellion 
 [Life of Clarendon, Pt. I., par. 33] about the author, namely, 
 that "after fifty years [a mistake: read, forty years from 
 birth], spent with less severity and exactness than it ought 
 to have been, he died with the greatest remorse for that 
 license, and the greatest manifestations of Christianity that 
 his best friends could desire ; " so that in the end the hope 
 which he ventures here timidly to ntter was fulfilled, and 
 one thorn "from the dry leafless trunk on Golgotha" did 
 prove to him more precious " than all the flourishing wreaths 
 by laureates worn." ' — Ibid., p. 405. After such an estimate 
 one can but smile at Augustus Jessop ' damning with faint 
 praise' Carew's woik, as being 'chiefly songs and "society 
 ■ ^' ''*^' verses," composed it is said with great difficulty [this drives 
 Suckling's expression of "hard-bound" most inigenerously], 
 but melodious and highly polished, though characterised by 
 the usual conceits and affectation of his time.' The criticism 
 of Headley is that, 'Carew has the ease without the pedantry 
 of Waller, and perhaps less conceit.' (See p. 254.) 
 
 Page 118. — Henry Carey, second Earl of Monmouth and 
 Baron Carey of Lippington, Yorkshire, son of Robert ; 
 married Lady Martha Cranfield, lived in retirement during 
 the rebellion, 'a generous scholar ; ' and died 13th June, 1687. 
 
 Sir John Suckling also addressed lines ' To his much- 
 honoured, the Lord Lcpinton (sic) upon his Translation of 
 Malvczzi, his lionmlns and Tarquin,' beginning, ' It is so 
 rare and new a thing to see Ought that belongs to young 
 nobility, In print,' etc, (SucMing, i. 17, Lib. 0. Authors).
 
 APPENDIX NOTES. 247 
 
 Page 119. — Of Thomas Maj', translator of Lucan's 
 Pharsalia, 1627, and later ensnared by the Parliament, 
 when piqued at some refusal of a pension from the king, 
 but like Enobarbus, repenting of treachery and desertion, 
 who died in misery and humiliation, the summary by 
 Clarendon is conclusive: 'He fell from his duty and all 
 his former friends, and prostituted himself to the vile office 
 of celebrating the infamous acts of those who were in rebel- 
 lion against the king ; which he did so meanly, that he 
 seemed to all men to have lost his wits when he left his 
 honesty ; and so, shortly after, died miserable and neglected, 
 and deserves to be forgotten.' — Life of Clarendon, 1857. 
 The early use of Letter-Lock safes is shown in lines 24, 25. 
 
 Page 122.— 'To My Friend, Will D'Avenant:' this was 
 the heading of a poem beginning, ' I crowded 'mongst the 
 first to see the Stage,' printed on p. 166 of the 1640 edition 
 of Poems by Thomas Ceiretv, Esquire, and it has reajjpeared 
 in subsequent editions, including that of 1S70, without any 
 one observing that the lines in question are imperfect, and 
 were written by neither Carew nor Gary, alias Carey, but 
 by another friend of Will D'Avenant, William Habington, 
 the author of Castara. Hence the lines are removed from 
 position in our p. 122; they do not find place among the 
 'Doubtful Poems,' seeing that they are not by any means 
 doubtful : they are reprinted here instead. When wrongly 
 inserted among Carew's Poems, in 1640, instead of stopping 
 at end of the fourteenth line ('Master or Bachelor, in 
 Comedie'), there were added unnecessarily six lim s, genuinely 
 hy Carew, which had formed the termination of his own poem 
 addressed to Davenant, as he called him — not 'D'Avenant' 
 — which had been printed, prefixed, in the first edition of 
 ' Madagascar, with Othe7- Poems. By W. Davenant, London, 
 1638.' The duplicated lines — whe!) rightly placed— marked 
 the union of romance and history, the finale of Carew's 
 Madagascar poem, 'When I behold,' etc., now on p. 122. 
 Signed Thomas Carcv), in the original version, 1638. 
 
 ' We of th' adulterate mixture not complain. 
 
 But thence more Characters of Virtue gain ; 
 
 More pregnant Patterns of transcendent worth, 
 
 Than barren and insipid Truth brings forth : 
 
 So oft the Bastard nobler fortune meets, 
 
 Than the dull issue of the lawful sheets,' 
 
 (These are the source of Wycherley's couplet, that won for 
 him the patronage of Barbara, Duchess of Cleaveland : —
 
 248 APPENDIX NOTES. 
 
 ' When parents are slaves, their brats cannot be any other : 
 Great wits and great braves, have alway a Punk to their 
 mother.' — Love in a Wood, 1672.) 
 
 To MY Friend, Will Davenant. 
 
 I CROWDED 'mongst the first to see the Stage 
 (Inspired by thee) strike wonder in our age, 
 By thy bright fancy dazzled ; where each scene 
 Wrought like a charm, and forced the audience lean 
 To th' passion of thy pen. Thence Ladies went, 
 Whose absence Lovers sigh'd for, to repent 
 Their unkind scorn ; and Courtiers, who by art 
 Made love before, with a converted heart, 
 
 To wed those virgins whom they'd woo'd t' abuse ; 
 
 Both render'd Hymen s proselytes by thy Muse. 
 
 But others, who were proof 'gainst Love, did sit 
 To learn the subtle dictates of thy Wit ; 
 And as each profited, took his degree. 
 Master or Bachelor in Comedy. 
 
 [Instead of stopping here — where 1640 edit, wrongly adds 
 the Carew six lines — Babington's address continued thus, — 
 we print now in italic type to distinguish the omitted lines] : — 
 
 Who on the Stage, though since, they ventured not 
 Yet on some Lord or Lady had their plot 
 Of gain or favour ; every nimble jest 
 They speah of thine, Ving the entrance to a feast, 
 Or nearer tvhisper : most thought fit to he 
 So far concluded icits, as they know thee. 
 
 But here the Stage thy limit was, Icings may 
 Canute.'] Find proud ambition humbled at the sea, 
 
 Which bounds dominion : but the nobler flight 
 Of Poesy hath a suprcmer right 
 
 To empire, and extends her large command 
 Wherever th' invading sea assaults the land. 
 
 Ev'n Madagascar [which so oft hath been 
 Like a proud virgin tempted, yet still seen 
 Th' enemy court the ivind for flight) doth lie 
 A trophy now of thy u-it's victory : 
 
 Nor yet disdains destruction to her state, 
 Encompuss'd with thy laurel in her fate. 
 
 163S. William Habington.
 
 APPENDIX NOTES. 249 
 
 Page 123. — The Hon. Walter Montague was author of 
 the Shepherd's Paradise, a Pastoral Comedy mentioned on 
 p. 114 ; a play privately acted before the King in 1633 (and 
 possibly in 1629), of which Queen Henrietta bore a part. 
 Prynne's libellous attack on the stage and dancing, being 
 published at the time, was supposed to specially refer to 
 her : Prynne's language deservedly encountered rebuke and 
 punishment. The Inns of Court prepared a Masque, James 
 Shirley's Triumph of Peace, played at Whitehall on Feb. 2, 
 163!, before their majesties. This was within a week before 
 Prynne's appearance at the Star Chamber. He received a 
 heavy sentence for this Histrimaadix. Montague's Pastoral 
 is ridiculed by Suckling, in his ' Session of the Poets,' stanzas [Cf. \x 244. 
 XX. and xxii., describing a contest for the Laureateship : — 
 
 ' Wat Montague now stood forth to his trial, 
 And did not so much as suspect a denial ; 
 But witty Apollo asked him first of all. 
 If he understood his own Pastoral 1 
 
 For if he could do it, 'twould plainly appear 
 
 He understood more than any man there, 
 
 And did merit the Bays above all the rest : 
 
 But the Monsieur was modest, and silence confess'd.' 
 
 He is styled ' the Monsieur ' because of his recent travels in 
 France, from which he had returned to Carew'.s satisfaction. 
 We find a note in the 1836 Selections from Suckling, by his 
 unsatisfactory namesake and mutilator the Rev. Alfred S. , 
 ' Wat Montague wrote the Shepherd's Paradise, published 
 in 1629 [according to one Brit. Mus. copy, perhaps true date : 
 same sheets, 1659], 8vo. He was a papist, and suspected of 
 having been concerned in the conversion of Lady Ncivburgh. 
 On that occasion, it is said in a letter of Lord Conway's, 
 "The King did use such words of Wat Montague and Sir 
 Tobie Matthew, that the fright made Wat keep his chamber 
 longer than his sickness would have detained him." ' W. M. 
 published, in 1648, Miscellanea Spi7-itualia ; or Devout Essays, 
 4to; and a Second Part to it in 1654; also, in 1656, 2'he 
 Accomplished Woman, 8vo. 
 
 Page 130. — No reasonable doubt hinders the acceptance of 
 this Masque as Carew's. (Bolton Corney denied it, in Notes 
 and Q., with no authority as a critic.) The only other claim 
 advanced, on insufficient evidence, is in favour of Sir William 
 D'Avenant, who might possibly have assisted, if aid had 
 been required. D'Avenant has scarcely i-eceived justice, 
 for he is somewhat ponderous in liis poetry and rhetorical
 
 250 APPENDIX NOTES. 
 
 in his dramas. But Carew loved him, and even Suckling 
 (who, more suo, girded at him about the 'mischance' in 
 France, with as little truth as in his lampoon on ' T. C) 
 mentioned him with a sort of kindness, by acknowledging 
 ' the handsomeness of his Muse,' in A Session of the Poets. 
 
 Page 175. — Ode to Phillis. This poem might have the 
 less claim to be held the work of Carew, insomuch as it was 
 given imperfectly by the Asbmol. MS. 36, wherein it follows 
 'A Rcvpture.'' So late as December, 16S0, a popular song 
 of ' Fair Phillis, your prevailing charms ' was known and 
 named as a tune, at Viscount Stafford's execution ; perhaps 
 a ballad-adaptation of our ' Phillis, though thy powerful 
 charms' (see Eoxburghe Ballads, iv. 227, 1S81); to which 
 music may have been composed by Henry Lawes. A second 
 MS. gives the entire song. It is in the collection made by 
 Catherine Gage of Sussex, the Right Hon. Lady Aston 
 (known as ' Tix-all Poetry,' Staffordshire, p. 125, and half- 
 edited by Sir Walter Scott, who knew not the other MSS., 
 in 1813). This charming Ode was worth our tracing, even 
 though it were not by Carew ; we may find the music. We 
 give it here complete (ist stanza alone was on p. 175) : — 
 
 JDIIILLIS, though thy powerful charms 
 
 ■*- Have forced me from my Celias arms — 
 
 A sure defence against all powers 
 
 But those resistless eyes of yours ; 
 
 Think not your conquest to maintain 
 
 By rigour or unjust disdain : 
 
 In vain, fair Nymph, in vain you strive, 
 For Love doth seldom Hope survive. 
 
 Although I languish for a time, 
 Whilst all your glories in their prime 
 Do justifj' your cruelty, 
 By that same force that conquer'd me ; 
 Yet Age will come, at whose command 
 Those troops of Beauties must disband : 
 
 A Tyrant's strength, once took away, 
 
 What Slave so dull as to obey ? 
 
 Those threatening dangers to remove, 
 Make me believe at least you love ; 
 Dissemble well, and by that art 
 Preserve and govern well my heart. 
 But if you'll learn a nobler way 
 To keep your Empire from decay, 
 
 And so for ever fix your Throne, 
 
 Be kind, but kind to me alone.
 
 APPENDIX NOTES. 251 
 
 This is so thoroughly in accordance with Carew's own 
 style of pleading and sentiment that we need no longer 
 hesitate before accepting it as his. The ' Tixall Poetry ' 
 was nearly all made as a commonplace book of gathered 
 favourites : it is tluis similar to most MSS. miscellanies. 
 We have identified the authors of the chief songs. 
 
 Page 176. — The allusion to ' Honour's fruitless loves ' is in 
 harmony with Carew's playful banter, on p. 45, against the 
 monstrous conventionalism, ' Giant Honour,' as an enemy of 
 Love, This was afterwards glanced at, in the anonymous 
 poem called Stipendiarae J.achrymae, 1654, which tells of 
 Carew being seen among the spectral forms in Hades : — ■ 
 
 ' There, purged of the folly of disdaining 
 
 Laura walk'd hand in hand with Petrarch join'd, f •'• T- -ig- 
 
 No more of "Tyrant Giant Honour" 'plaining ; 
 There Sidney in rich Stella's arms lay 'twined : 
 Carew and SucJcUwj there mine eye did find.' 
 
 The better half of George Wither was a true poet, amatory 
 and idyllic, as shown in his lovely AUstrcss of Phil' Arete ; 
 before he degenerated into dreary pietism, the worse half 
 being a prosaic Puritan. To him is attributed the authorship 
 of a polemical tract entitled The Great Assizes Ilolden in 
 Parnassus hy Apcjllo and his Assessors, 1645. It is a halting 
 half-hearted apology (the censure of a much too 'candid 
 friend,') for Carew's warmth, as expressed in 'A Rapture' 
 (p. 45), admitting or pleading 'Yet may some chaster Songs 
 him render free,' from tlie having been challenged on 
 nomination as a Parnassian juryman or assessor. Apollo 
 rebukes the advocatus diaboli, the accuser, by a furious 
 glance, and Carew is weakly described, after death, as 
 regretting his having written anything which the ' unco guid 
 and rigidly righteous ' Puritans counted as licentiousness. 
 He is made to concede, apologetically, regarding ' A Rapture,' 
 
 ' " This Song of mine 
 Was not infused by the Virgins Nine, [ = The Muses. 
 
 Nor through my di'eams divine upon this Hill, 
 Did this vain llajdurc issue from my quill. 
 No Thespian waters, but a Paphian fire 
 Did me with this foul ecstacy inspire : 
 I oft have wished that I (like Saturn) might 
 This infant of my folly smother quite. 
 
 Or that I could retract what I had done 
 
 Into the bosom of Oblivicni." '
 
 252 APPENDIX NOTES. 
 
 The collectors of anecdotes are always rummaging dust- 
 heaps in search of whatever may injure the reputation of 
 men who were beloved and famous. No dirt is too foul 
 for their busy fingers, and they find unveracious gossips to 
 help them liberally. Isaak Walton, seeking materials for 
 a projected memoir of John Hales of Eton (Sir Edward 
 Hales married Carew's widowed sister, Lady Cromer), 
 revealed unsuspiciously the baseness of Hales, in setting 
 afloat by one ' Mr. Anthony Farrindon,' and ' by others ' 
 /. p. 284.] [one Lady Salter is named], that 'Mr. Thomas Gary, a 
 poet of note, and a great libertine in his life and talk, 
 and one that had in his youth been acquainted with Mr. 
 Ha., sent for Mr. Hales to come to him in a dangerous fit 
 of sickness, and desired his advice and absolution, which 
 Mr. Hales, on a promise of amendment, gave him : this, 
 I think, was in the country [perhaps at Sunninghill]. But 
 Mr. Gary came to^London, fell to his old company, and into 
 a more visible scandalous life, and especially in his discourse, 
 and being taken very sick, that which proved his last, and 
 being mucla troubled in mind, procured Mr. Hales to come to 
 him in this his sickness and agony of mind, desiring earnestly, 
 after a confession of many of his sins, to have his prayers 
 and his absolution. Mr. Hales told him he should have 
 his prayers [Hales's prayers ! ! ! from whom small mercy 
 would have been found by the "woman who had been a 
 sinner " or the penitent on the Cross, or by Mary Magdalen 
 out of wliom the Lord had cast seven devils], but icoidd 
 hfi no means give him either the sacrament or ahsolution.' 
 Then to exalt himself, sacrilegiously. Hales told a woman, 
 B. K] and 'that bad Delilah told !' Samson's Delilah had some 
 excuse ; she betrayed the secret of one who had been, and 
 still was, the irreconcilable enemy of her own allies, the 
 Philistines. Treacherous and wanton though she might 
 be, doubly a hireling, bribed for evil, she was nevertheless 
 their avenger. But where could be found any justification 
 of Hales, or of his gossips ? Probably he lied, unblushingly, 
 when he told the chattering women who repeated the tale 
 to Walton. If Hales had spoken truly, it was a culpable 
 desecration of the Confessional ; but, if falsely, what 
 language stigmatizes him too severely ? 
 
 Page 180. — ' Nays,^ in the MS., is probably for Nais (the 
 name occurs in a novel by Emile Zola, 'Nais Micoulin'). 
 
 ' With light and low bell caught the amazed lark ' alludes 
 to a fowling practice, where the hand-bell was used by night 
 to frighten the buxls and make them ' lie close,' till by more 
 violent noise and dazzling with a lantern, they were alarmed
 
 APPENDIX NOTES. 253 
 
 and flew iiiti) the net. (Strutt's Sports.) They drew a Lark 
 down to earth by glitter of a mirror in sunshine, a daze or 
 dare. The falconer's term, ' Iinj'),' is on p. 216. 
 
 Page 1S2. — Thr Sonq of Jeahnsy. As already indicated 
 on p. 182, the 'Prologue' and 'Epilogue' reprinted thereon 
 and on p. 183, were probably connected with the same 
 entertainment at Whitehall to which belong the songs of 
 ' Jealousy,' of ' Feminine Honour,' ' Separation of Lovers,' 
 and ' Incommunicability of Love,' and also the two songs 
 that follow them, 'From a Lover' and 'From a Lady,' on 
 our pp. 56 to 61. As to the date, it was decidedly 1633, 
 shown in a note written by Tom Killigrew to Cecilia Crofts, 
 whose marriage at Oatlands, 29th June, 1636, is celebrated 
 in Carew's song, p. 81, 'The morning stormy.' Killigrew 
 introduced the ' Song of Jealousy ' into his tragi-comedy 
 ' Cicilia and Clorinda,' Part Second, act v., scene 2, and 
 printed it, with this declaration : — ' This song was written 
 by ]\Ir. Thomas Carew, cup-bearer to Charles /., and sung 
 in a Masque at Whitehall, anno 1633. And I presume to 
 make use of it here, because in the first design 'twas writ at 
 my request, upon a dispute held betwixt INIistress Cecilia 
 Crofts and myself, where he was present ; she being then 
 Maid of Honour. This I have set down, lest any man 
 should believe me so foolish as to steal such a poem from so 
 famous an author ; or, so vain as to pretend to the making 
 of it myself : and those that ai-e not satisfied with this 
 apology, and this song in this place, I am always ready to 
 give them a verse of my own. Written by Thomas Killigrew, 
 resident for Charles 11. in Venice, 1651.' (She died, 1635.) 
 
 Robert Baron, in his Pocula Castalia, 1650, p. 102, has 
 a poem, 'Truth and Tears,' containing an affectionate 
 reference to Carew, printed twelve years after his death : — 
 
 ' Sweet Suclding then, the glory of the Bower, 
 Wherein I've wanton'd many a genial hour. 
 Fair Plant ! whom I have seen Minerva wear, 
 An ornament to her well -plaited hair, 
 On highest days ; remove a little from 
 Thy excellent CAREW ! and thou, dearest ToM, 
 Loves Oracle ! la}' thee a little off 
 Thy flovn-ishing SucHiiig, that between you both 
 I may find mom : then (strike when will my fate), 
 I'll proudly part to such a princely seat. 
 
 But you have Crowns : our god's chaste darling tree [Laurel, 
 Adorns your brows with her fresh gallantrj-.'
 
 254 APPENDIX NOTES. 
 
 In verses 'To his Honoured Friend, Thomas Stanley, 
 Esquire, upon his Elegant Poems, ' James Shirley mentions 
 Carew (whom he had known ; see pp. l8o, iSi) : — 
 
 ' Carew, whose numerous language did before 
 Steer everj' genial soul, must be no more 
 Cf.Ba.ron, supra.} The Oracle of Love; and might he come 
 
 But from his own to thy Elysium, 
 He would repent his immortality 
 Given by loose idolaters, and die 
 
 A tenant to these Shades ; and by thy ray 
 He need not blush to court his Celia.' 
 
 As was mentioned in the Introductory Memoir, p. xxiii., 
 Clement Barksdale sent a book to Thomas Carew, early in 
 March, 163I, with tlie following lines inscribed (afterwards 
 printed in Nympha Libethris, 1 651) : — 
 
 'Ad Thomam Carew, apud /[o//.] Cirofts^ 
 cum davenantii poematis. 
 
 ' '""pEQUE meum, cum triste fuit mihi tempus, amorem, 
 J- Ofiiciis dico demeruisse tuis : 
 Meque tuxxm, si forte occasio detur, amorem, 
 
 Ofiiciis dices demeruisse meis. 
 Si placet, interea, hoc grandis non grande Poetse 
 Ingenii dignum munus habeto tui.' 
 
 'Mr. [Henry] Headley, in his Biographic Sketches, p. 39, 
 has justly observed that " Corew has the ease, without the 
 pedantry of Waller, and perhaps less conceit. He reminds 
 us of the best manner of Lord Lyttelton. Waller is too 
 exclusively considered as the first man who brought versi- 
 fication to anything like its present standard. Ctreio^s 
 pretensions to the same merit are seldom sufficiently either 
 considered or allowed." Lord Clarendon, however, has 
 remarked of his poems that " for the sharpness of the fancy, 
 and for the elegance of the language in which that fancy 
 C/. p. 246.] ^^'^^ spread, they were at least equal, if not superior, to any 
 of that time." ' — Spec. Early Ewj. Poets, George Ellis, iSoi. 
 
 Ellis gives no less than thirteen specimens of Carew, 
 including unhesitatingly 'The Primrose' and 'The Inquiry,' 
 beside the 'Dialogue,' beginning "Tell me, Utrechia" (here 
 reprinted on pp. 65, 73, 103). Ellis' taste was sound, though 
 inclined to be fastidious, and his choice of Carew's Poems was 
 excellent, viz., 'Sweetly breathing vernal air '(p. 125) ; 'Think 
 not, 'cause men flattering say ' — ' If the quick spirits in j'our
 
 APPENDIX NOTES. 255 
 
 eye ' — 'When yon the sunburnt pilgrim see' — ' Gaze not on 
 thy beauty's pride ' — ' Mark how the bashful morn in vain ' 
 — 'Know, Cclia, since thou art so proud' — 'Wonder not 
 though I am blind ' — and the exquisite poem which seems to 
 concentrate in itself the best qualities of Carew's love-songs, 
 ' Ask me no more where Jove bestows, when June is past, 
 the fading rose' (see pp. 2, 11, 14, 15, 22, 30, 39, and 69). 
 
 Henry Hallam wrote, on ^ The Primrose,' [our Carew, p. 
 73], ' Herrick gives the second line strangely, " This sweet 
 Infanta of the year," lohich is little else than nonsense; and 
 all the other variations are for the worse. I must leave it 
 in doubt whether he [Herrick] borrowed and disfigured a 
 little, or was himself improved upon.' [What ! ten years 
 before he published his version?] Hallam adds r 'I must 
 own that he [llerricl] has a trick of spoilt ny ivliat he takes.' 
 He gives as an example, Herrick's perversion of Suckling's 
 'little mice' into 'snails.' — Lit. of Europe, iii. 267, 1S72. 
 
 John Fry's inability for the task of critical selection was 
 denounced by Barron Field, who styled the volume printed 
 at Bristol in iSlo, 'The most drivelling piece of pedantry 
 that we have ever witnessed' {Quarterly Review, iv. 173); 
 for Fry had copied the 1642 misprint ' Falcvu;' carefully 
 reproduced, instead of ' Falcrnc' (p. 128), and had totally 
 omitted the 'Deposition from Love,' 'New Year's Sacrifice,' 
 'Willing Prisoner,' the 'Epistle to Ben Jonson,' 'Elegy on 
 Donne,' the 'Hue and Crj',' and the lines 'To My Mistress 
 in Absence' (our pp. 14, 19, 29, 34, 61, 71, in). Barron 
 Field marked the advantage gained in reprints by giving to 
 true poetry the modern spelling, 'save where the orthography 
 of a poet influences his rhyme, as Chaucer's and Spenser's 
 does every moment, and therefore " the whole ought to be 
 sacred." ' We adopt the rule of modern spelling. 
 
 Ezekiel Sandford gave twenty-six poems by Carew, in vol. 
 iv. pp. 377-406, of his Works of British Poets, iSiy. 
 
 END Oi" APPENDIX NOTES.
 
 THOi\rAS CAEEW'8 LETTERS. 
 
 The following letters from Thomas Carew to Sir 
 Dudley Carleton are mentioned in the Introductory 
 Memoir (pp. xvii, xviii). Of Carew there are so 
 few memorials extant, in addition to his poems, 
 that the reproduction of them here, in modernised 
 spelling, may be welcome. First, this, from London, 
 telling of his interview with George, Lord Carew, at 
 Woodstock, dated 2nd September, 16 16, and duly 
 addressed to Sir Dudley Carleton at the Hague. 
 
 ' Right Honourable, my most singular good Lord, — 
 
 'I have been thus long in giving jour Lordship account of 
 the success of my business, by reason of my Lord Carcw's 
 absence from this town, where after I was arrived, and had 
 a while consulted with my father and other friends, it was 
 thought fit I should repair unto him to the Queen's Court ; 
 which then, with the King and Princes, was at Woodstock, 
 where I delivered your Lordship's letter. His answer to me 
 was, that he had already in that employment a Master of 
 Arts, whose seven years' service had not yet deserved to be 
 so displaced ; and added, that I, being his kinsman, might 
 expect from him all those greatest courtesies whatsoever, 
 whereunto his nearness of blood did oblige him, which I 
 should always find him ready to perform ; but to admit me 
 into his family as a servant, " it were a thing (said he) far 
 beneath your quality, and which my blood could not suffer 
 without much reluctance." I told him that my coming tvas 
 not to supplant any man, but that I thought this late addition 
 of honour might have made those small abilities which I had 
 acquired by my travels and experience in your Lordship's 
 service, of use to his, which I did humbly prostitute [i.e., 
 proffer or prostrate] before his Lordship ; who if he thought 
 not my youth unworthy so great honour, I should esteem. 
 my self no ways disijaraged by his service. He replied that 
 my languages, and whatever serviceable parts I had, would 
 rust in his service for want of use, and therefore prayed me 
 to propose to my self any other means wherein he might 
 pleasure me ; were it the service of some otiier who had 
 more employment and better means of preferment for a 
 Secretary, or whatsoever project I could devise ; wherein he
 
 THOMAS CAREW'S LETTERS. 257 
 
 promised not only to employ his credit but his purse, if need 
 were : and so referred me to his return to London for his 
 answer to your Lordship's letter, at what time he would talk 
 more at large with me and my father about his business. 
 This is the issue of my hopes, with my Lord Carew, nor am 
 J likely to r/ain any thing, at his return hither, from him, 
 but/air words and complimfnt. 
 
 ' Your Lordsliip's letters to my Lord of Anmdel, because 
 it was necessary for me to wait upon my Lord , C'arew', and 
 could at no time see him but with the King, from whose 
 side he seldom moveth, I left with Mr. LLavcrs to be delivered 
 to him ; of whom I learned tliat he was as yet unfurnished 
 of a Secretary ; wherefore, according to your Lordship's 
 instructi<jns, my father's counsel, and my own inclination, I 
 will labour my admittance into his service ; wherein I have 
 these hopes, the present vacancy of the place, the reference 
 my father had to his Grandfather, and the knowledge which 
 by your Lordship's means he had of me at Florence, wherein, 
 if need be, and if Mr. Chamberlain shall so think good, I 
 will engage my Lord Carew, and where-unto I humbly 
 beseech your Lordship to add your effectual recommenda- 
 tion ; which I know will be of more power than all my other 
 pretences, which you will be pleased with your most con- 
 venient speed to afford me, that I may at his return hither 
 (which will be with the King some twenty days hence), meet 
 him with your Lordship's letters, and that I may in case of 
 refusal return to your service the sooner ; from which, I 
 profess (notwithstanding all these fair shows of preferment), 
 as I did with much unwillingness depart, so do I not 
 without great afHiction discontinue ; my thoughts of their 
 proper and regular motion not aspiring higherthan the orb 
 of your Lordship's service ; this irregular [motion] being 
 caused by your self, who are my Prinium mobile ; for I ever 
 accounted it honour enough for me to Currere lafortuna del 
 mio Siynior, nor did I ever aim at greater happiness than to 
 be held, as I will always rest, 
 
 ' Your Lordship's | mostihumble devoted | to your service, 
 
 Tiio. Carew.' 
 ^London, this 2 of September, 1616.' 
 
 Endorsed :—' To the Right Hon'^''^ my mc.st singular good 
 L S'- Du(dey Carkton, Knight, L Ambassadi^ 
 for his Majty w"' the States of the United 
 Provinces of the Low Countries at the Hague.'' 
 
 'Tom Carew, the 2d of 7''^'' 1616.' 
 
 Second. AVe lui\-e a letter, nine days later : —
 
 258 THOMAS CAREW'S LETTERS. 
 
 ' Right Hon'^'<'- my most singular good Loi\l, — 
 
 ' Since my last to your Lordship of the 2nd of this present 
 [month], my L'^ Careio's repair to town gave me occasion to 
 attend his resolution at his lodging: which he delivered with 
 much passion, protesting that he did not therefore refuse me 
 because he had no intent to take care or charge of me, for I 
 should upon any occasion be assured of the contrary'', but 
 merely for that he should have no emploj'ment for me, and 
 therefore prayed me, since he tendered herein my own good 
 more than his particular interest, to surcease this suit, and 
 prevail my self of him in another kind; to the same effect 
 was his excuse to my father, so as that string hatli failed ; 
 but as there was ever more appearance, so do I conceive 
 better hope of good success, with my Lord of Arundel, and 
 tlie rather because my Lord Carew hath so willingly engaged 
 himself in my behalf, and promiseth to deal very effectually 
 for me, but cliiefly when I shall have your Lordship's 
 recommendation, which I daily expect,' etc. (il Sept., 1616). 
 
 jai.CKsarn Tkivd. Fi'om Tiiiistall, Kent, 20 Sept., 16 16. 
 ^' ^' ' '^ It tells of one whom Brntus called 'a hot friend, 
 cooling.' 
 
 'My Lord of Arundel's indefinite answer, whereby he 
 holds me in suspense, though not without hope of good 
 success ; for he protesteth that if he can by any means 
 satisfy the pretences of two competitors, who are with 
 daily importunity recommended unto him from his hon^^^ 
 and especial good friends, which (lie says), he will endeavour, 
 and hopes to effect, he will then vvitli all willingness embrace 
 my service, tlie tender whereof he talcos very kindly : thus 
 mucli he hath professed unto my L'^ Carciv, who made the 
 first overture to Mr. Shirebora [Sherburii?], who in your 
 Lordship's name seconded that recommendation,' etc. . . . 
 ' I have in this interstice had leisure to see my Sister, 
 Grandmother, and other my friends in Kent, who remember 
 their most affectionate services to your Lp and my Lady.' 
 
 Tills shows that, whatever were the cause of 
 estrangement of the Carletons, they lacked no 
 outward show of friendliness and courtesy. This was 
 deceptive. Perhaps Thomas Carew, as was natural, 
 lost hope, and soon fell into idler habits. His father 
 Avas already sinking into comparative poverty, and 
 died before the next two years ended. He had 
 yielded to desponduig fears about his family. Nine 
 years earlier he had written his own epitaph : —
 
 THOMAS CAREW'S LETTERS. 259 
 
 ^ Ecu, quae, quanta et qualia vidi ! Satis mild vixi, si 
 satis Deo. Fertcesus levitatis, vanitatis et inconstantice hujus 
 vitce; ceternam appito, ut Deo fruar ct requiescam in pace. 
 Amen.' 
 
 He had lost many of his children early. Martha 
 alone, twice luavried, survived to reach ■what is 
 termed a 'good old age.' Her brother, the younger 
 Sir Matthew Carew, became a gallant soldier, who 
 died early in Ireland, fighting for his king. 
 
 The future success which Thomas, youngest of 
 the three, was thereafter to win, alike in literary 
 excellence and in court favour with his sovereign 
 (by whom he was esteemed the choicest in wit 
 and poetic grace), his father could not foresee. 
 His own wealth had gone ; and he died before^ the 
 after-math of hope or happiness. If we possessed 
 the later letters of Thomas Carew, Avritten in the 
 heyday of prosperity and friendship, we should 
 find in them nothing of our modern pessimism ; 
 our lUTL wholesome self-analysis ; our jironeness to 
 torture every petty detail into an evil meaning ; 
 our unrest and dissatisfaction whatever befalls us : 
 our distrust of ourselves, of human nature, and of 
 Providence. His was a cheerful philosophy, and 
 he has left us much for which we owe gratitude. 
 The confvision of the Civil- War, which followed 
 swiftly after his death, accounts for the disappear- 
 ance of his manuscripts, and familiar letters. But 
 among the poems, we hold several that rank high as 
 epistles to the men whom he loved : he contrasts 
 (p. 125) his pleasant home at "Wrest, near Woburn 
 Park, with the stern grandeur recently beheld in 
 the far North, that Tweedside where Gilbert 
 Neville then abode. By these poems, if we are 
 not distrustful, we can enter into the charmed 
 circle, and see him, as his many friends had seen 
 him : one whom fairest women and bravest men 
 both loved and honoured.
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THOMAS CAREW. 
 
 {A Hand-List.) 
 
 CcELUM Britannicum. A Masque at White-hall in 
 the Banquetting-House, on Shrove-Tuesday-Night, the 
 1 8 of February, 1633. London: Printed for Thomas 
 Walhley, and are to be sokl at his Shop neare IVhite- 
 Hall. 1634. Quarto. [Seep. 129.] 
 
 Of the four editions of the ' Poems by Thomas Carew' 
 it is probable that the first and best was seen through 
 the press by one of his surviving friends, not unlikely 
 to be Aurelian Townsend (whom he had addressed 
 affectionately in an ' Elegiacal Letter' (p. 114; see also 
 pp. 228, 242), and who had Carew's own manuscripts to 
 guide him. Unfortunately Carew's death was sudden, 
 after weakening attacks of illness ; the loss of his own 
 final corrections and personal supervision is irreparable. 
 Ccehim Britannicum was included, with its separate title- 
 page, in the four editions of the Foems : — 
 
 I, — Poems. By Thomas Carew, Esquire. One of 
 the Gentlemen of the Privie-Chamber, and Sewer in 
 Ordinary to his IMajesty. London, Printed by /. D. 
 for Thomas Walkley, and are to be sold at the sign of the 
 flying Horse between Brittain's Burse and York-House, 
 1640. Sm. 8vo. A, 2 leaves ; B— S 6, in eights. The 
 Poems end with ' The Mistake' (our p. 80) on its p. 106 ; 
 followed on p. 107 by title of the Masque. The Poems 
 have the 'Imprimatur, Matthew Clay, April 29, 1640' 
 on verso of title : reproduced on our pp. xxxi, xxxii. 
 
 2. PoKMS. By Thomas Careio, Esquire. One . . . 
 
 IMajesty. The Second Edition revised and enlarged. 
 London [etc., same printer, publisher, and locality], 
 1 642. [Tho. Walkley makes an addition of eight poems;
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 261 
 
 these given on the 1643, pp. 207, 210, 211, 212, 215, 
 217, 221, and 222. l^\i(t. first of these, 'To my Lord 
 Admiral on his late Sickness and Eecovery' (our 
 p. 100), was certainly added wrongly by Walkley, it 
 being Edmund Waller's. The second is entitled ' On 
 Mistress N. to the Greene Sicknesse' (our p. loi) ; 
 third, 'Upon a Mole in Celia's Bosom' (p. 102) ; fourth, 
 'An Hymeneal Song' (p. 83); fifth, 'A Married 
 Woman' (p. 85); sixth, 'A Divine Love' (p. 85); 
 seventh, ' Love's Force ' (p. 87) ; and eir/htJi, ' A Fancy ' 
 (p. 88).] 
 
 3. — Poems, with a Maske : By Thomas Carew, Esq. ; 
 One of the Gent, of . . to his late Majestie. The Songs 
 were set in Musick by Mr. Henry Lawes, Gent, of the 
 King's Chappell, and one of his late Majestie's Private 
 Musick. The Third Edition revised and enlarged. 
 London, Printed for H. M. and are to be sold by 
 J. Martin at the signe of the Bell in St. Pauls-(M\\\Tc\\- 
 Yard. 165 1. [A group of three extra poems is here 
 first added, on its pp. 217, 218, and 219, as Some 
 Additional Poems hij the same Author. They are, 
 first, ' To his Mistress : ' " Grieve not, my Celia " (our 
 p. 88) ; second, ' In praise of his Mistress : ' " You that 
 will a wonder know " (p. 90) ; and third, ' To Celia on 
 Love's Ubiquity : "As one that strives" (p. 91).] 
 
 4. — Poems, Songs and Sonnkts. Together with a 
 Masque. By Thomas Carew, Esq. One of . . . Private 
 Musick. The Fourth Edition revised and enlarged. 
 London, Printed for H. Herringman at the Blew Anchor 
 in the Lower Walh of the New Exchange, and are to be 
 sold by Hobart Kemp at the sign of the Ship in the 
 Up2)er Walk of the New Exchange, 167 1. The separate 
 title to Masque is dated 1670. [The group of three extra 
 poems, previously mentioned, are here again added, on 
 its pp. 226, 227, and 228 ; as Some Additional Poems 
 hy the same Author, already given in the 165 1 third 
 edition : and therefore not printed for the first time in 
 1 67 1, as was misleadingly asserted in the 1870 edition.]
 
 262 BIBLIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 No authoritative editions follow. Very little demand 
 was made for them, while public taste was debased, and 
 the earlier poets neglected, until Thomas Warton in 
 1778, and Thomas Percy in 1765 (ridiculed by Samuel 
 Johnson), set a better fashion of studying ' The Old 
 Singers.' Not until 1772 was a fresh issue made 
 of the ' Poeiiu, Songs, and Sonnets: Together with a 
 Masque; By Thomas Carew, Esq., etc. ... to King 
 Charles I. A New Edition. London : Printed for 
 T. Davies, in Russell Street, Covent Garden, mdcclxii.' 
 (See jDp. 211, 212.) 
 
 Next, near the close of the century, Carew's Poems, 
 with the Afasque,vfere included in Dr. Eobert Anderson's 
 useful, tolerably accurate, but not scholarly, edition of 
 the British Poets, wherein these poems occupy pp. 671 
 to 723 of vol. iii., 1793. They are also rejirinted in 
 Alexander Chalmers's similar double-column edition of 
 the English Poets, vol. v., 18 10. 
 
 'A Selection from the Poetical Works of Thomas 
 Carew,' London, Printed for Longmans, Hurst, & Co., 
 and sold by Thomas Fry & Co., No. 46 High Street, 
 Bristol, 1 8 10, is chief! 3^ noteworthy for ha^^ng jji^eceded 
 what had been intended to be a more coinplete edition 
 (mentioned in The Gentleman's Magazine of January 
 I S 1 1 as being ' in preparation,' and in Bibliographical 
 Memoranda, 18 16, declared to be 'in the Press'), but 
 not known to have been published : it was told, in a 
 prospectus, dated 1814, that 'it will be illustrated 
 with Portraits of the Authour and his Wife, from a 
 rare medal by Warin.' This is a false statement, 
 doubly : ist, of Carew having had a wife (even though 
 she had been the lady whose pseudonym was ' Gelia,' 
 or some later consoler), for we refuse to accept it 
 as proved, on such totally inadequate evidence : no 
 medallion portrait of the lady being forthcoming or 
 known to be extant. No one else saw it but Pry : 
 (as Paul Dombey said, ' I don't believe that story '). 
 cf. p. viii.] And, 2nd, The medal is not of Carew, but of Gary.
 
 THOMAS CAREW. 2G3 
 
 The Works of Thomas Carew were ' reprinted from the 
 original edition of 1640,' issued in 1824 : Edinburgh, 
 Printed for W. and T. Tait :— Edited by Mr. Thomas 
 Maitland, a Lord of Session. 125 copies printed. The 
 appendix poems, additional, from eds. 1642 and 1651, 
 alone are modernised in spelling. [Not seen.'\ 
 
 Eobert Southey gave a large selection from Carew, 
 including the entire Masque, in 1831 ; but it was 
 merely hack-work, and he left any slightest revision 
 to the chances of the printing office, or the untrained 
 energies of what he playfully called his ' Harem ' of 
 sisters-in-law (we know what sort of accuracy might 
 be expected from the Irrepressible sex) : as a Moderator 
 of the General Assembly, circa 1856-7, once profanely 
 in his place had declared of MacphaiVs Edinburgh 
 Ecclesiastical Journal (obiit 1863), that it was 'Edited 
 by Divine Providence.' Southey was a noble ' man 
 of letters,' over-burdened in too many ways, so that 
 he was always hurrying his ' copy.' That he had 
 reprinted seventeen of Carew's choice jioems and the 
 Masque deserves gratitude. His criticism is unworthy 
 of himself and of his subject, though it sufficed for his 
 female coterie and their proprieties : ' Carew's wit and 
 his accomplishments cpialified him for a courtier, and 
 his morals would not have di'^qualified him, even at 
 the court of Charles the Second ' (p. 732) : Ipse dixit. 
 
 The Poetical Works of Thomas Carew, etc., London : 
 H. G. Clarke and Co., 66 Old Bailey, bears date 1845. 
 It is summarised by W. C. Hazlitt as ' an edition of 
 no value, and chiefly a reprint of that of 1824.' 
 
 His own edition of 1870, the Eoxburghe Library 
 large quarto, was published by Messrs. Reeves and 
 Turner, of London, handsomely printed and bound, 
 dedicated to (the now, late) Frederick \Yilliam Cosens, 
 F.S.A., and furnished with an elaborate array of 
 references to transcripts from ]\ISS., etc. It gives 
 verbatim several letters written by the poet Carew, 
 with his signature in fac-simile (written at Tunstall,
 
 264 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 
 
 on 2oth September 1616, in an epistle to Sir Dudley 
 Carleton, whom he had by that time left, after having 
 joined him as secretary in 161 4). These letters 
 (p. 256) show not the poetic attainments of Carew : 
 compare the Calendar of State Papers, Domestic, James I., 
 vol. 88, Nos. 67, 77, 87 ; Ditto, of Charles I., 1638, 
 April 1-17 (certainly after the decease of Carew), vol. 
 387, No. 31, and May 25-31, a'oI. 391, No. 99. 
 
 Mr. W. C. Hazlitt has done life-long service for 
 literary students, by innumerable and laborious works, 
 especially of Bibliography, in which department he 
 stands eminent. He is personally entitled to respect 
 and esteem ; moreover as being the grandson of that 
 true critic, William Hazlitt ; and the worthy son of 
 a second William Hazlitt, the author and Registrar, 
 still alive and honoured : who had shown his own 
 great love for the writings of our Poet, by giving 
 to his son William the additional baptismal-name of 
 ' Carew.' 
 
 In the present edition, 1893, The Poertis of Thomas 
 Careio are for the first time added by Messrs. Reeves 
 and Turner to the Library of Old Authors, now their 
 sole property. The editor, JosejAi Woodfall Ebsworth, 
 of Molash Priory, Kent, to whom they generously 
 entrusted the work unrestrictedly, has followed his own 
 judgment throughout in determining the text, which 
 had been often obscured and })erverted. He alone is 
 i-esponsible, if aught be blamed. There is no better 
 'Golden Rule' than Theobald's (p. 270). The former 
 mis-readings deserved unhesitating rejection. He hopes 
 speedily to send forth similarly a trustworthy new 
 edition of 'Robert Southwell's Poems,' to follow 
 these of Thomas Carew.
 
 TABLE OF FIRST LINES 
 
 TO THE 
 
 Poems of Thomas Carew, 1893. 
 
 (Library of Old Authors Edilion.) 
 
 [N'o historical work ought ever to he published without a full 
 Index. Every printed collection of ' Letters and Lifc^ rcqidres 
 similar help for the student, inakiivi easier any rcpcrusal of 
 particvlar paasayes. Also, each new edition of « Standard 
 Poet should be furnished with a good ' Index of First Lines,' in 
 addition to a 'Table of Contents.' Without these the book, 
 especially a collection of Songs, or other short poems, is wofnlly 
 defective; and the omission furnishes perpetual reproach alike 
 ugaiust the Editor and the Publislier. It shows that the work 
 has not been a labour of love, but merely a cheap substitute for 
 a better edition. Some future day ma.y give us the greatly- 
 needed ' Index of First Lines of all Early Poems ; ' meanwhile 
 the present Editor has been fur years preparing one of ' All 
 Known Songs and Ballads, in print or manuscript, of date 
 before 1805 ; ' though intended solely for his private use. 
 
 Here are the First Lines of the Poems and Songs by Thomas 
 Carew ; not neglecting the few of doubtful authenticity, or the 
 collateral poems quoted in the Notcs.'\ 
 
 A Carver, having loved too long in vain . 
 A Child, and dead ! alas ! how could it come 
 A Session was held the other day (Suckling's, quoted) 
 Admit, thou darling of mine eyes 
 
 Amongst the myrtles as I walk'd (improbably by Herrick 
 And here the precious dust is laid 
 As Celia rested in the shade 
 
 As one that strives, being sick, and sick to death 
 Ask me no more where Jove bestows 
 Ask me no more why I do wear (mentioned, only) 
 Ask me no more why there appears 
 
 Ask me why I send you here (probably Carew' s own; not 
 by Herrick : of. pp. 234, and Hallam note, 255) 
 
 2(55 
 
 75 
 185 
 244 
 81 
 65 
 53 
 39 
 91 
 69 
 
 235 
 236 
 
 73
 
 266 
 
 TABLE OF FIRST LINES. 
 
 Be fixed, you rapid orbs, that bear 
 Blest is lie that spotless stands 
 Brave Youth, to whom Fate in one hour . 
 Break not the slumbers of the Bride 
 ]!right Albion, where the Queen of Love 
 But say, you very "Woman, why to me 
 By what jjower was Love confined 
 
 Call Philip 'Flat-nose,' and he frets at that 
 Can we not force from widow'd Poetry 
 Carew of ancient Cam is (quoted) 
 Cease, thou afflicted Soul, to mourn 
 Come, Celia, fix thine eyes on mine 
 Come, mj' Celia, let us prove 
 Come, O conie, I brook no stay 
 
 Dearest, thy tresse.'j are not threads of gold 
 Did'st thou not find the place inspired? . 
 Down in a garden sate my dearest Love . 
 
 Fair copy of my Celia's face 
 
 Fair Doris, break thy glass ! it hath perplex'd 
 
 Farewell, fair Saint ! may not the sea and wind 
 
 Fate's now grown merciful to men 
 
 Fear not, dear love, that I'll reveal 
 
 Fly not from him whose silent miseiy 
 
 Fond man, that canst believe her blood . 
 
 Fond man, that hopest to catch that face 
 
 For thy word's sake, give new birth 
 
 From the high Senate of the Gods to you (Mercu 
 
 From whence was first this Fury hurlVl? 
 
 Oaze not on tbj' beauties' pride 
 
 Give Lucinda ])earl nor stone 
 
 Give me more love, or more disdain 
 
 Go, thou gentle whispering wind . 
 
 God bless the Sabbath : fie on worldly pelf 
 
 Good folk, for gold or hire, one help me to a Crier {D.''s 
 
 Good God, unlock thy magazine . 
 
 Grieve not, my Celia, but with haste 
 
 Happy the man that doth not walk 
 Happy youth ! that shall possess . 
 Hark, how my Celia, with the choice [rf. 
 He gave her jewels in a cup of gold 
 He that loves a rosy cheek . 
 Hear this and tremble all . 
 Hence, vain intruder, haste away . 
 Here are shaj)es form'd fit for heaven 
 
 Mark how ') 
 
 '•y)
 
 TABLE 0I< FIRST LINES. 
 
 26 
 
 Here let us close the record. Will sbe pause? (Edit.) 
 Here lies John Dunibulow, who died, etc. 
 How ill doth he deserve a lover's name 
 How sliall youth but by the level . 
 Hunger is siiarp, the sated stomacli dull . 
 
 I a«k thee ■whence those ashes were 
 
 I breathe, sweet Gliib, the temperate air of "Wrest 
 
 I burn, and cruel you in vain 
 
 I come not liere, you Gods, to plead the right (P 
 
 I crowded 'mougst the tirst to see the stage [Uahi 
 
 I heard the virgins sigh, I saw the shock . 
 
 I love thee not because thou'rt fair (see 'Wert th 
 
 I love thee not fur sacred Cliastity {Kit Marlovie 
 
 I nothing doul)t, Great and Immortal Powers (Pi 
 
 I press not to the choir, nor dare I greet . 
 
 I saw fair Celia (Chloris) walk alone 
 
 I tell you true, wliereon doth light 
 
 I was foretold your rebel sex 
 
 I will enjoy thee, come, my Celia, come . 
 
 If the cpiick s])irits in your eye 
 
 If when tlie Sun at noon disjdays . 
 
 I'll gaze no more on that bewitching face . 
 
 I'll not mis-spend in piaise the narrow room 
 
 I'll tell you true, whitlier do stray 
 
 I'll tell you where's another Sun . 
 
 In Celia's face a question did arise 
 
 In her fair cheeks two pits do lie . 
 
 In Love's name you are charged hereby (1640) 
 
 In Love's name you are charged hereby (1633) 
 
 In Nature's pieces still I see 
 
 In the first ruder age, when Love was wild 
 
 In what esteem did tlie Gods hold 
 
 It hath been said of old, that Plays be feasts 
 
 ortune) 
 ni/toiis) 
 
 ou') 
 
 s) 
 
 jverty) 
 
 Kiss, lovely Celia, .and be kind 
 Know, Celia, since thou art so proud 
 
 Ladies, fly from Love's soft tale 
 
 Lead the black bull to slaughter, with the boar 
 
 Let fools great Cupid's yoke disdain 
 
 Let him who from his tyrant mistress did 
 
 Let pride grow big, my rose, and let the clear 
 
 Let Thy grace, O Lord, preserve me 
 
 Let Thy loving mercies cure me 
 
 Like to the hand that hath been used to i)lay 
 
 Look back, old Janus, and survey . 
 
 Madam, men say, you keep with dropping eyes 
 Maiden fair, we bring to thee [Editorial). In 
 Make the great God thy fort, and dwell . 
 
 TAOE 
 
 272 
 
 188 
 
 21 
 
 20 r 
 183 
 
 231 
 125 
 31 
 151 
 24S 
 
 106 
 231 
 230 
 148 
 117 
 174 
 233 
 
 45 
 14 
 
 6 
 
 120 
 
 235 
 
 233 
 
 4 
 
 74 
 
 71 
 
 181 
 
 5 
 
 87 
 
 S7 
 
 121 
 
 77 
 IS 
 
 12 
 
 123 
 
 34 
 
 17 
 
 78 
 
 202 
 
 203 
 
 186 
 
 97 
 
 108 
 troduction, v 
 
 195
 
 268 
 
 TABLE OF FIRST LINES. 
 
 Mark, how my Celia (see ' Hark, liow my Celia,' al 
 
 led., ill the 1640 edition : 'Mark' is in the MSS.) 
 Mark how the bashful morn in vain 
 Mark liow tliis polishM Eastern sheet 
 Marl< how you eddy steals away . 
 Must she then languish, and we sorrow thus 
 My first love, whom all beauties did adorn 
 My Lord : In every trivial work 'tis known 
 INIy once deur love, hapless that I no more 
 My Soul, the great God's praises sing 
 
 No more, blind God ! for see, my henrt . 
 
 No more shall meads be deck'd witli flowers 
 
 No, worldling, no ; 'tis not thy gold 
 
 Now she burns, as well as I 
 
 Now that the Winter's gone 
 
 Now you have freely given me leave to love 
 
 Of what mould did Nature frame me 
 
 Oft wlien I look I may descry 
 
 Oh, gentle Love, do not forsake the guide 
 
 Oh, my dearest, I shall grieve thee 
 
 Oh no ! Heaven saw men's fancies stray . 
 
 Oh, think not, Phoebe, 'cause a cloud 
 
 Oh, whither is my fair sun fled 
 
 O whither will vou lead the fair . 
 
 Phillis, though thy powerful charms 
 
 Raise from these rocky cliffs your heads . 
 Read in these roses the sad story . 
 Reader, whom these dumb stones have told 
 Rise, lovely Celia, aud be kind 
 
 Seek not to know my love, for she 
 
 Seek not to know this woman, for she's worse 
 
 Show me no mine the IMarigold 
 
 Sickness, the minister of Death, doth lay 
 
 Since I must needs into thy school return 
 
 Sir, ere you pass this threshold, stay 
 
 Sir, I arrest you at your Country's suit 
 
 Sir, since you have pleased this night t' unbend 
 
 Sitting by the streams that glide . 
 
 So grieves the adventurous Merchant, when he knows 
 
 Stand still, you floods ! do not defnce 
 
 Stay, cowar 1 blood, aud do not yield 
 
 Stop the cliafed boar, or play 
 
 Such should the day be, so the sun should shine , 
 
 Sweet, use your time ; abuse your time . 
 
 Sweetly breathing vernal air 
 
 35 
 39 
 88 
 12 
 28 
 
 65 
 118 
 
 17s 
 196 
 
 35 
 78 
 
 53 
 30 
 
 I 
 
 91 
 
 73 
 80 
 21 
 66 
 
 234 
 72 
 60 
 
 242 
 
 175. 250 
 
 157 
 43 
 55 
 
 183 
 
 36 
 221 
 222 
 
 32 
 173 
 
 27 
 124 
 184 
 205 
 
 7 
 
 69 
 
 lOI 
 
 53 
 
 81 
 
 224 
 
 125
 
 TABLE OF FIRST LINES. 
 
 2G9 
 
 Teach me, Lord, Tliy Wius, and I . 
 
 Tell me, Lucretia (Utiecliia), since my fate 
 
 Tell me, my Love, since Hymen tied 
 
 Tell me no more. Her eyes are like 
 
 Teque meam, cum triste fuit mihi tempus, amoreni (C. B. 
 
 Tliat flattering glass, whose smooth face wears . 
 
 That I prevent the message of the gods (Plutus) . 
 
 That lovely spot which thou dost see 
 
 The harmony of colours, features, face 
 
 'The Heir' being born, was in his tender age 
 
 The Lady Mary Villiers lies 
 
 The purest soul tliat e'er was sent. 
 
 The reasons, equal Judges, here alleged (Pleasure) 
 
 They come back to us in our lonely hours (Editorial) 
 
 Tliey taste of death that do at Heaven arrive [WaHcrs] 
 
 Think not 'cause men flattering say 
 
 Think upon Tliy ])romise made 
 
 This cypress fohled here, instead of lawn (imperfect) 
 
 Tills flattering Glass, whose smooth face wears (MS.) 
 
 This little vault, this narrow tomb 
 
 This mossy bank they press'd. That aged Oak . 
 
 Tliis silken wreath, tliat circles-in my arm 
 
 This silken wreath, which circles in mine arm (MS.) 
 
 Those that can give, open their hands this day . 
 
 Thou great Commandress, that dost move 
 
 Thou, O Lord, art my reward 
 
 Thou Shepherd, whose intentive eye [Aur. Toicnscnd's) 
 
 Though frost and snow lock'd from my eyes 
 
 Though I must live here, and by force 
 
 'Tis not how witty, nor how free . 
 
 'Tis true, dear Ben, thy just chastising hand 
 
 To her, whose beauty d<ith excel . 
 
 Tost in a troubled sea of griefs, I float 
 
 T'AOE 
 
 203 
 103 
 
 63 
 232 
 
 25+ 
 i6 
 
 145 
 
 I02 
 
 52 
 
 119 
 
 51 
 51 
 
 272 
 241 
 2 
 204 
 240 
 171 
 
 5t 
 
 42 
 26 
 
 173 
 29 
 98 
 
 205 
 
 223 
 24 
 19 
 
 227 
 61 
 
 176 
 20 
 
 Upon my conscience, whensoo'er thou diest {Durcnnnt's) 245 
 
 We know not where thy dust is laid {Editorial) 
 
 We read of Gods, and Kings that kindly took 
 
 Weep not, nor backward turn your eyes . 
 
 Wert thou much fairer than thou art (quoted) 
 
 When, Celia, I intend to flatter you 
 
 When liau,L;btie thoughts impufi^e thee, then {T. 
 
 When I beiiold, by warrant from thy pen 
 
 When I shall marry, if I do not find 
 
 When in the brazen leaves of Fame 
 
 When on fair Celia I did spy 
 
 Wlien on the altar of my hand 
 
 When the seed of Jacob fled 
 
 When thou, poor Excommunicate 
 
 When you the sunburnt Pilgrim see 
 
 Card's 
 
 XXVI 
 
 6 
 
 45 
 231 
 187 
 
 239 
 123 
 
 85 
 54 
 
 80 
 
 37 
 200 
 
 13
 
 270 
 
 TABLE OF FIRST LINES. 
 
 Wherefore do thy sad numbers flow? 
 
 While this fly lived, she used to piny 
 
 Whilst thus the darlings of the gods 
 
 AVhite Innocence, tliat now liest spread . 
 
 Why dost thou sound, my dear Aurelian . 
 
 Why rage the Heathen ? wherefore swell 
 
 Why should dull Art, which is wise Nature's ape 
 
 With joy like ours, the Thracian youth invade ( WaUer^s 
 
 Wonder not, tliougli I am blind 
 
 AVould you kuow what's soft ? I dare 
 
 Ye Children of the Lord, that wait 
 You that think Love can convey . 
 You that will a wonder know 
 Youll ask, jierhaps, wherefore I stay 
 
 PAGE 
 
 41 
 34 
 162 
 184 
 114 
 192 
 
 85 
 100 
 
 30 
 70 
 
 199 
 
 36 
 
 90 
 
 172 
 
 ' I ever labour to make the smallest deviations that I 
 possibly can from the text ; never to alter at all where I 
 can by any means explain a passage into sense ; nor ever 
 by any emendations to make the author better when it is 
 probable the text came from his own hands.' 
 
 — Lcicis Theobald, to Warburton.
 
 INDEX.
 
 Celia. 
 [Echo of 'A Leave-Taking-') 
 
 J J ERE let xis dose the record. Will she pause '? 
 -'■ -'- Vainly we strive against unbending laws. 
 
 Lore's slavery ends not with the joyless day : 
 Worship misplaced is Sin^s embitter d cause. 
 
 Woman heeds little in true Poet's lay : 
 Seeks not his love — seeks but her own applause. 
 She will not pause ! 
 
 Carew. 
 
 '/ ^HEY come back to ns in our lonely hours, 
 
 ■*- The friends we loved, the singers of sweet song, 
 
 The unrepining conquerors of lorong. 
 Who in the Past were crown'd with tliorns or fio%vers. 
 When Fortune beckon\l them to Love's oun bowers — 
 Such, in the saddest life, may chance erelong : 
 Men loyal, stainless, gentle and yet strong, 
 Unhurt by storm, as we by April showers. 
 
 Could we repay them for their toils, their cares ! 
 
 They gave us help ; and can ice nothing give ? 
 With them ive may not tread the hot pi oughshares. 
 
 Who in close-guarded pathways xvalk and live: 
 How then requite these givers of cdl good ? — 
 Sole guerdon yield tve : our heart's gratitude. 
 
 J. W. E. 
 
 ■ .o ♦ 
 
 19, XI. 892
 
 I iN D E X. 
 
 CADEMY OF COMPLEMENTS, various 
 editions, 1640, 1650, 1670, etc., aud New 
 Academy of Complements, 1669, 167 1, 
 mentioned and quoted, 216, 222, 229, 230, 
 
 55. 238. 
 
 of Sweden, his 
 
 Adolphus, Gustavus, King 
 deatli, 114, 243. 
 Allanson (or Allison), Lutea, addressed by Suckling, 215. 
 Altham (probably). Lady, her marriage with Carew'a cousin, 
 
 C. R., 44. 
 Amorea, Patherike Jenkins's, 232. 
 Anglesea (Elizabeth Villiers, born Sheldon), Countess of, 
 
 poem to her, 108 ; another, by Davenant, 240, 242. 
 Anderson, Dr. Robert, his edition of Carew, 262. 
 Anglesea (Christopher Villiers), Earl of, his death, 108, 239. 
 Aretine (or Aretino), Pietro, mentioned by Carew, 48, 222. 
 Arundel Garden and House, 35, 220. 
 Arundel (Henry), Earl of, xviii, 220, 25S. 
 ' Ask me no more,' Carew's song, 69 ; admired and imitated, 
 
 231 to 237, 246, 255 ; see also, 265. 
 Assizes holden on Parnassus, The Great, xxv ; quoted, 251. 
 Aston (Catherine Gage), Lady, 250. 
 
 Barde of Weston, second husband of Anne (born Villiers, 
 afterwards Saville, Countess of Sussex), 242. 
 
 Barksdale, Clement, his poem and its important date, xxiii ; 
 given, 254. 
 
 Baron, Robert, his verses on Carew, xxiv, 253. 
 
 Beauchamp (1616), Lord, mentioned, xxi. 
 
 Bembo, Pietro, Cardinal, (1470-1547), 1 18. 
 
 Bliss, Philip, xv, 188, 207. 
 
 Brackley (John Egerton), Viscoxint, son of the first Earl of 
 Bridgewater, a masquer at Whiteliall, 167 ; also an actor 
 at Ludlow Castle in Milton's Com vis, SejDt. 1634, 167. 
 
 Britannia's Pastorals (Browne's), quoted, 212, 217, 222. 
 
 Brome, Richard, the dramatist, quoted, 217. 
 
 Bi-owne, William, (jnotations from Brit. Pa~t., 212, 217, 222. 
 
 •273 S
 
 274 INDEX. 
 
 Buckingham (George Villier.s), first Duke of (iSth May, 
 1623), xi, 225 ; two poems by Carew inscribed on his tomb, 
 54, 55 ; poem on him as Lord High Admiral, his sickness 
 and recovery, by Waller, though printed among Carew's 
 poems, 100, 213 ; his brother Christopher, 108. See 
 Villiers. 
 
 Buckingham (Lady Katherine, first married in 1620, born 
 Manners, daughter and heiress of Francis, sixth Earl of 
 Rutland), Duchess of, her supposed grief, 54, 55 ; but 
 she was again married, secondly, to Randall M'Donnell, 
 first Marquess of Antrim, formerly Lord Dunluce, 167. 
 
 Bullen, Arthur Henry (son of Geo. Bullen, C.B., LL.D.), 243. 
 
 C. (T.), confusion of these initials in MSS., belonging to 
 three contemporary poets, 214, 244, etc. See Carew, T., 
 Carey or Gary, T., and Crosse, T., 104, etc. 
 
 Carew (Alice), Lady, daughter of Sir John Rivers, mother 
 of Thomas, xv. 
 
 Carew, Christian, death of, xv. 
 
 Carew (George), Lord, at Woodstock, xviii, 256 to 25S. 
 
 Carew (Martha), Lady, grandmother of Thomas, daughter 
 of Sir Edmund Denny of Cheshunt, xv, 258. 
 
 Carew, Martha (afterwards Mrs. James Cromer, and Lady 
 Cromer ; and still later, wife of Sir Edward Hales), sister 
 of Thomas, xv, 252, 258, 259. 
 
 Carew, Sir Matthew (c. 1530-1618), father of Thomas, xv ; his 
 losses and letters, xviii, 257, 258 ; his own Epitaph, 259. 
 
 Carew, Sir Matthew, elder brother of Thomas (early 
 knighted, a soldier; five child i-en baptized at St. 
 Dunstan's), xv, xvii, 259. 
 
 Carew, Thomas, Introductory Memoir of him, ix to xxv ; the 
 bulk of his extant poems small, the 'conceits ' few in pro- 
 porti(m, X ; his Coelum Britannicum masque at Wiiitehall, 
 xi, xiii, 129, 249 ; fresh collation of all attainable texts 
 and manuscripts found indispensable, xiii, 260 ; his 
 birth probably at Wickham, Kent, circd 159S (notwith- 
 standing the ii-relevancy of the dated medallion by Jean 
 de Varin, which proves to be of Thomas Carey), xv ; his 
 lineage and parentage, his brother Matthew and sister 
 Martha, ihid. ; school, and college at Oxford, xvi, xix ; 
 his father's pecuniary losses in 1614, and the cause [vide 
 pajjersin Record Office), x v ; his connection with Sir Dudley 
 Carleton, in 1614-1616, then leaving him in disfavour, 
 abroad, probably caused by Sir Dudley's first wife, Anne 
 (born Saville, the second wife also was named Aime, 
 daughter of Sir Henry Glemham, the widow of Paul, fir.--t 
 Lord Bayuiug, she becoming Vicouutess Dorchester), xvii.
 
 INDEX. 275 
 
 xviii, xix ; disappointed by liis relations, Lord George 
 Carew, and Henry, Earl of Arundel, xviii ; travels abroad 
 again, ibid., xix ; his intimacy witli Henry Lawes, the 
 composer of his songs and masque, xi, 167, 215, 232 ; his 
 friendship with many distinguished men, xx ; in favour 
 with King Charles I., who makes him Gentleman of the 
 Privy Chamber, Sewer in Ordinary, Cup-bearer, 251 ; and 
 bestows on him the manor of Sunninghill, part of the 
 royal demesne of Windsor forest, xxi ; his affection for 
 Ben Jonson, xxiii, 227 ; which was mutual, as with 
 Davenant, 250; verses to Ben, ibid., 6f, 225, 227; yet 
 not a contributor to the collection, 1638, called Jonsonus 
 Virbius, xxii, 226 ; his haunts at Sax ham, xxi, 24, 2lS ; 
 and Wrest, xxi, 125 ; his houses of residence at Sunning- 
 hill, and Kintr Street, W'estminster, xxi ; supposed by 
 Davenant and Barksdale to be still alive, and mentioned 
 also by Lord Falkland, in 163I, xxii, xxiii ; slandered by 
 John Hales of Eton, xxi, xxiii, 191, 223, 244; and also, 
 in humorous verses, by Sir John Suckling, under the 
 guise of good-fellowship, xxiii, 244 ; and by the author of 
 the ' Great Assizes,' anonymous, supposed to be George 
 Wither, xxiv, 251, 252 ; certainty of his death having 
 happened before 17th April, 1638, xiv ; Edward Hyde, 
 Earl of Clarendon's praise of him, xxv, 246, 254 ; 
 Davenant's, 244, 245 : Anthony Wood's account, xvi, 
 XX, xxi, xxii, 188, 238; Thomas Warton's, xiii ; James 
 Howell's, xxii ; George Ellis's, 254, 255 ; Henry Headley's, 
 xxiv, 246, 254 ; Archbishop Trench's, 246 ; his ' Celia ' 
 not identified, xxv ; constant to her, 235 ; his 'Lucinda' 
 known to be Lucy, Countess of Carlisle, xx, 29, 99, 218 to 
 220, 240, 241 ; his successive editors, Aurelian Townsend, 
 Davies, Fry, Anderson, Chalmers, Southey, William 
 Carew Hazlitt, etc., 211, 212, 225, 246, 255, 259, 260 ; his 
 freedom from spite, and jealousies, xiii, xxii, 244 ; letters, 
 256 to 259 ; bibliography of his masque and poems, 260. 
 
 Carew, Sir Wymond, of Anthony, Cornw., grandfather of 
 Thomas, xv. 
 
 Carey (or Cary), Henry, Lord Lepinton, 11 8, 246; after- 
 wards second Earl of Monmouth, died in 1649, 230, 246. 
 
 Carey (or Cary), Lucius, Earl of Falkland, xxiii. 
 
 Carey (or Cary), Thomas, of Tower-Hill, brother of Henry, 
 Earl of Monmouth, and Gentleman of the Bed-Chamber 
 to Charles I. (the medallion portrait by Jean Varin is of 
 him, not of Carew), 104, 238, 239 ; his doubtful poems or 
 songs, 92, 103, 105 ; Methodus Amandi, 103 ; his genuine 
 translation and description, quoted, 239. (He had married 
 Margaret, daughter anJ heiress of Sir Thomas Smith of
 
 276 INDEX. 
 
 Parson's-Green, Clerk of the Peace to the Council : T. C. 
 
 was born at Berwick, and bapt. 15 Sept. 1597 ; left a 
 
 posthumous daughter Elizabeth.) 
 Carey, Sir Robert, Warden of the Marches, 238. 
 Carleton (Ann, born Saville ; not Gerard, or Dorney, as in 
 
 Burke), Lady, first wife of Sir Dudley Carleton, xviii, xix. 
 
 (She died ast. 42, 18 April, 1627 ; bur. West. Ab.) 
 Carleton, Sir Dudley (afterwards Vise. Dorchester, 1628), 
 
 xvii, xviii, xix. (His second wife, mar. 1630, was Anne, 
 
 daughter of Sir Henry Glemham, and widow of Paul, 
 
 Viscount Bayning, on whose death Cartwright wrote a 
 
 poem, see p. 304, of 1651 edition; she survived Lord 
 
 Dorchester, he dying, aged 58, 15 Feb., 163^), 256, 264. 
 Carlisle (James Hay), first Earl of, 29. 
 Carlisle (Lucy Hay, born Percy), Countess of, xx ; Carew's 
 
 Lucinda, 29, 71, 99, 218, 219, 220, 221, 240, 241, 252. 
 Cartwright, William, his poem on Charles I.'s sickness, 220 ; 
 
 Ben Jonson's good opinion of him, 223 ; poem, a Gnat 
 
 ('A gnat, mistaking her bright eye'), contrasted with 
 
 Carew's Fly, 34, 220 ; song by him, 223. 
 Castara, Richard Lovelace's poems, 214, 247. 
 Castlemaine (Barbara Palmer, born Villiers, q. vide), 247. 
 Catherine of Siena (1347-1380), Saint, 107. 
 Cavendish, Charles, a masquer, 167. 
 Celia (not identified), Carew's titular ' Mistress,' ix, xx, 262, 
 
 272 ; his poems to her, 2MSsim. 
 Chalmers, Alexander, his Cai-ew, 262. 
 Chandos (probably George Bridges, son of Grey Bridges), 
 
 sixth Lord, cousin of the Egertons, a masquer, 167. 
 Chapman, George, quoted, 216. 
 Charles I., x, xii, 115 ; loyally'loved by Carew, xxi ; bestows 
 
 Sunninghill on him, xxiii ; addressed on New-Year's day, 
 
 in a poem, 97 ; on his sickness (small-pox), by Carew, 32 ; 
 
 also by Cartwright, 220 ; visits Saxham, 27, 218 ; masque 
 
 by Carew performed before him at Whitehall, xiii, 129 ; 
 
 addressed therein, 133, 155, 166 ; his design betra3'ed, 218 ; 
 
 refused admittance at Hull, 237 ; 253, 256. 
 Charles, Prince of Wales (Charles II.), 32, 253, 263. 
 Chaucer, Geoffrey, mentioned, 255. 
 
 Chloris, altern. reading for Celia, ' I saw fair Chloris,' 1 74. 
 Clara of Assisi (i 193-1253), Saint, 107. 
 Clarendon (Edward Hyde), Earl of, his praise of Carew, x, 
 
 246, 254 ; on Thomas May, 247. 
 Clark (the Rev.), Andrew, M.A., Oxon., his Life and 
 
 Times of Anthony Wood, xix. 
 Cleaveland (Barbara), Duchess of, 247. See Castlemaine, 
 Cleaveland, John, Cavalier poet, quoted, 217, 227; his lines 
 
 upon a Fly that flew into a Lady's eye, and there lay
 
 INDEX. 277 
 
 buried in a tear, ' Puor envious Soul! what could'st 
 
 thou see In that bright orb of purity ?' mentioned, 220. 
 Cleaveland (Thomas), Earl of, 215 ; his first wife, Anne 
 
 Crofts, 215, 21S (his second wife, Catherine Wentworth) ; 
 
 his ultimate heiress, Anne, Lady Lovelace, 214, 242. 
 Coelum Britannicum, masque, mentioned by Sir Henry 
 
 Hei-bert as 'the noblest masque of my time to this day,' x, 
 
 xiii, 213, 243, 256 ; reprinted, 129. 
 Colman, Dr. Charles, quoted, 217 
 Companion, John Playford's Musical (1673), •'74- 
 Complement, Love's, 66 ; note on title, 229. 
 Cornus (Milton's), first acted on Michaelmas night, 29th 
 
 Sept., 1634, at Ludlow Castle, seven months after Carew's 
 
 Ccelum Britannicum, viii. 
 Conway (Edward), Viscount, 249. 
 Corney, Bolton, mentioned as a petty Thersites, whose 
 
 critical weight is shown by his disbelief in Carew's claim 
 
 to Coelum Britannicum because of the name of luiyo 
 
 Jones being mentioned first, 249. 
 Cornwall, Barry, pseudonym, 267. 
 Cosens, F. W., 263 ; his MS., 172, 173. 
 Cotgrave, John, of Wit's Interpreter, 173, 176, 183, 1S9, etc. 
 Cotton, Charles (junior), friend of Carew, xx. 
 Cowley, Abraham, quoted, 224 ; mentioned, 225. 
 Crebillon (Claude Prosper Jolyot de), 222. 
 Crofts, Anne, fii'st wife of Sir Thomas Wentworth, 215, 218. 
 Crofts, Cecilia, her marriage with Killigrew, at Oatlands, 
 
 Surrey, 29 June, 1636, 81 ; 218, 237, 2153. (Ob. 1st 
 
 Jan. 163I.) 
 Crofts, Sir John, of Saxhani, royal Cup-bearer, xxi, xxiii, 27, 
 
 215, 218. (His wife Mary, dau. of Sir Tho. Shirley.) 
 Cromer (Martha, born Carew), Lady, xv, 252 ; aft. Hales, 259. 
 Crosse, Thomas (poet and MS. poem collector), 244. 
 
 D. (A.), addressed in poem as Doris, 93. 
 
 Daniel (of Beswick, Yorkshire), George, xxiv. 
 
 Dank, corrected to damp, in 1640 Errata, 42. 
 
 Davenant, William, xi ; his poem to Carew, xxiii, 242 ; to 
 Countess of Carlisle, 240 ; to his Readers, 121 ; Carew's 
 poems to him, 120, 122 ; Wm. Habington's poem to 
 him, 248 ; no claim to Carew's masque, 249. 
 
 Davies, Thomas, his edition of Carew, 211, 212, 218, 262. 
 
 Dennye family of Cheshunt, Herts., connected with Carews 
 and Hays, xv, 106. 
 
 Dering, Sir Edward, 236. 
 
 Devonshire (in 1630), Thomas Westcote's View of (not 
 printed until 1843), 239.
 
 278 INDEX. 
 
 Digby (George), Lord, friend of CarevA', xxii ; one of the 
 masquers, 167. 
 
 Digby, Sir Keiielm, friend of Carew, xx, xxiii. 
 
 Disraeli, Isaac, mentioned, 249. 
 
 Donne, John, Dean of St. Paul's, x ; Carew's monody on 
 him, xi. III, 213, 214 ; 225. (Errata of 1640 edition, line 
 20 of our p. Ill reads ' What fancy cannot reach.') 
 
 Doris (Fair), addressed in poem, ' To A. D.,' 93. 
 
 Draper (Sir Thomas), of Sunninghill Park, made baronet in 
 1660, married a Carew heiress: this might indicate a niece 
 of Thomas. See Sunninghill, and Salter, Lady. 
 
 Drayton, Michael, his 'Cryer' given, 182; his 'Quest of 
 Cinthia,' quoted, 212. 
 
 Druminond (of Hawthornden), William, xxii, 
 
 Dryden, 'glorious John,' mentioned, 245. 
 
 Drollery (Choice, 1656), mentioned, 216, 227, 228; (Holborn), 
 216; (Westminster), 216; quoted, 221, 229, 234 ; (Windsor), 
 mentioned, 216. 
 
 Dross (of present text, dung in 1640 edition), 112. 
 
 Dungarvan (Richard Boyle), Lord, a masquer, 167. 
 
 Dunluce (Pi,andall, son of first Earl of Antrim), Lord, after- 
 wards, in 1636, second Earl, and, in 1644, first Marquis 
 of Antrim, a masquer, 167. 
 
 D'Urfey, Thomas, his song of Kingston Church, 224. 
 
 Egerton, John, Viscount Brackley (in Coelum Britannicum 
 
 and in Comus), a masquer, 167. 
 Egerton, Thomas (also in both), a masquer, 167. 
 Elgin (Thomas, Lord Bruce of Kinlcss, and by June 1633), 
 
 first Earl of, masquer, 167. 
 Elizabeth, Queen, mentioned by Lyly, 222. 
 Ellis, Georgn, his Specimens of Early Eng. Poets, 105. 254. 
 Enquiry (The), 'Amongst the Myrtles,' 65, 255; doubt, 
 
 whether by Carew or Herrick, 179, 213, 228 ; prob. Carew. 
 Evelyn, John, his diary of travel, xxiv. 
 
 Falkland (Lucius Carey), Earl of, his mention of Carew, xxiii. 
 Fanshawe (Sir Richard), his translations, 105. 
 Farringdcn (Anthony), gossip of Hales and I. Walton, 252. 
 Feilding, or Fielding (Basil), Lord, son of William, Earl of 
 
 Denbigh, a masquer, 167. 
 Feltham, Owen, 226, 244. 
 
 Felton, John, assassin of Buckingham, 54, 55, 225. 
 Ferdinand the Second, Emperor," 115. 
 Field, Barron (1786-1846), in Quarterly Review, 255. 
 Finch, Sir John, Lord Chief Justice of Common Pleas, his 
 
 intended marriage, 82, 236, 238.
 
 INDEX. 279 
 
 Fletcher, John, the dramatist, 213. 
 
 Fletcher, Phineas, of the Purple Island, 216. 
 
 Florence, visited, xxiv, 257. 
 
 Fly that flew in Celia's Eye, 34 ; poem, on a Gnat. 220. ' 
 
 Freeman (' She's not the fairest of her name'), 228. 
 
 Fry (of Bristol), John, viii, 211, 212; his defects, 255, 262. 
 
 Gavelkind (Law of Kentish), alluded to, 62. 
 Godolphin (died 1643), Sidney, mentioned, xxiii. 
 (ioodwin Sands, mentioned, 62. 
 
 Grandison (Wm. Villiers), tiiird Viscount, masquer, 167. 
 Guarini (Batista), his Pastor Fido translated, 105. 
 Gutch (J. M.), his inaccurate copy in N. and Q., 207. 
 
 H., T., a Lady resembling Celia, 23. 
 
 Habington, William, his poem to Davenant wrongly inserted 
 
 among Carew's (1640, 1670, etc.), 247, 24S'. 
 Haddington (Lord Viscount), his marriage-masque, 182. 
 Hales, Sir Edward, of Tunstall, Kent, second husband of 
 
 Carew's sister Martha, Lady Cromer, xv, 252, 259. 
 Hales (John), of Eton, the 'early Socinian ' Canon of 
 
 Windsor (i 584-1656), in 1616 Chaplain to Sir Dudley 
 
 Carleton, connected v.'ith Carew by his sister Martha, and 
 
 tutor of 2nd Willm. Salter, xvii, xxi, xxiv, 191, 241, 252. 
 
 (Compare Salter, Lady, 2S4 ; and Sess. of Poets, St. 23.) 
 Hallam, Henry, xxiv, 255. 
 Harrington, Sir John, quoted, 237. 
 Havers (apjn'opriately named), Mr., 257- 
 Havvke (Sir Thomas), letter from James Howell to, xxii. 
 Hay (James) Lord, afterwards first Earl of Carlisle, 106, 
 
 218, 240. (His first wife was Honora, only daughter of 
 
 Edward Lord Denny ; in 1626 Earl of Norwich.) 
 Hay (Lady Ann), Carew's elegy on her, 106. 
 Hay (Lady Lucy, born Percy), 'England's Erinnys,' 218; 
 
 second wife, 1617, of James Hay : see Carlisle, Countess. 
 Hazlitt, William, critic and essayist, 264. 
 Hazlitt, William (junior), of the Middle Temple, Registrar, 
 
 translator of many works for Bogue and Bohn, 264. 
 Hazlitt, William Carew, x, 259, 263, 264. 
 Headley, Henry, his criticisms, xxiv., 246, 254. 
 Henrietta Maria (Queen), x ; addressed in New- Year's gift, 
 
 98; in mnsque, 133, 156, 162, ]66; 180, 218, 249, 256. 
 Herbert of Cherbury (Edward), Lord, a friend, xx, xxiv. 
 Herbert (William, ohiit 1630), 3rd Earl of Pembroke, 234. 
 Herbert (William, son of Philip, 4th E. Pemb. ), masquer, 167. 
 Herrick, Robert, 190; two poems of doubtful or double 
 
 parentage, 65, 73, 228, 237, 255 ; epigrams mentioned, 190.
 
 280 INDEX. 
 
 Hesperides (Herrick's, 1648), mentioned, 174, 179, 213, 
 
 228, 237. See, also, Ribbon. 
 Holland (Henry Rich), first Earl of, a masquer, 167. 
 Hotham, Sir John, 237. 
 Howard, Robert, a masquer, 167. 
 Howard, Thomas, a ma&quer, 167. 
 
 Howell, James, his Epistolse Ho-elliance, xx ; on Carew, xxi. 
 Hue and Cry, 71, 181 ; another, 182; after Cupid, 183. 
 Hunter, Joseph, F.S.A., his Chorus Vatum Anglicanorum 
 
 MS. (Brit. Mus., Add. MS. 24489), 215. 
 Hymeneal Dialogue, 63. 
 
 Imp, a term of falconry, exemplified, x, 216, 217 ; 253. 
 Ingpenny or Inkpenny, Alice, mentioned, xv. 
 Interpreter, Wit's (editions 1655, 1671), quoted, 173, 176, 
 189, 227, 229 ; mentioned, 174, 216, 231, 234, 238. 
 
 Jacob (Henry), of Merton Coll., Oxon., 216. 
 
 Janus, the temple of, 97, 240. 
 
 Jenkyns, Patheryke or Pati-ick, his Amorea, 235. 
 
 Jessop (Rev. Dr. Augustus), biographer of Carew, his sneer 
 at Charles I., xii ; at Carew, 191, 246. 
 
 Jones, Inigo, xiii, 130, 243. 
 
 Johnson, Dr. Samuel, 215, 225, 262. 
 
 Jonson, Ben, xi ; addressed by Carew, 61, 243; his Ode, 
 quoted, prefixed to his 'New Inn,' 225, 226; rejoinders 
 by Owen Feltham, Cleaveland, and Randolph, 227 ; 
 Jonsonus Virbius, xxi, xxii, 226 ; Howell's anecdote of, 
 xxii ; his masque, 'Hue and Cry after Cupid,' 182 ; 213, 259. 
 
 Jordan, Thomas, his Royal Arbor, 235 ; his Pym's Anarchy, 
 236, 237. 
 
 Killigrew (Cecilia, born Crofts), Mrs., 81, 218, 237, 251, 252. 
 Kiliigrew, Thomas, dramatist and friend of Carew, xxiii ; 
 
 his marriage, 81, 184, 237 ; his frank acknowledgment 
 
 of indebtedness to Carew for song, in ' Cicilia and 
 
 Clorinda,' 253. 
 King Street, Westminster (not St. James's, as mistakenly 
 
 asserted), residence of Carew, xxiii, 244, 245. 
 
 L. (A.), addressed in a poem by Carew, 2, 214; also by 
 
 Lovelace, and by Suckling, 215. 
 Landor, Walter Savage, his Hellenics, 1859 ed., quoted, 227. 
 Laud (Archbishop of Canterbury), William, xi. 
 Laura (Petrarch's), seen in Elysium or Hades, 49, 251. 
 Lawes, Henry, composer of music for Cffilum Brit., xi, 
 
 xiii; for Milton's 'Comus' fully seven months later, viii,
 
 INDEX. 281 
 
 260 ; and of songs by Carew, 2 1 5, 232 ; Ben Jonson, and 
 
 others, 92, 104, 167, 1S2, 215, 223, 238, 239, 250. 
 Lennox (Esme Stuart), third Duke of, a masquer, 167. 
 Lenton (Francis), mentioned by T. Warton, xiii. 
 Lepinton (or Lepington, Henry Carey), Lord, iiS, 246. See 
 
 Carey. 
 Lesley (or Livesley), Alexander, 236. 
 Lovelace (John), second Lord, of Harley, Berks., poem on 
 
 his marriage, 83, 215, 237. 
 Lovelace (Richard), Cavalier poet {ohiit 1658^,214, 215. 
 Lucan's Pharsalia, translated by Thomas May, 247. 
 Lucasta (1649), Lux Casta, title of Lovelace's poems, 214. 
 Lucinda, Carevv's name for Lady Lucy Hay, 29, 99, etc. 
 
 See Carlisle, Countess. 
 Lyly, John, his Euphues and his England, quoted, 222. 
 Lyttelton (George), Lord, mentioned, 252. 
 
 Macphail, Myles, his Edinb. Ecc. Journal, mentioned, 263. 
 Madagascar and Other Poems by Davenant (with poems by 
 
 Cai'ew, Habington, etc., prefixed), 122, 247. 
 Maine {vel Mayne), Jaspar, mentioned, x. 
 Maitland, Sir Thomas, 263. 
 Malvezzi (Virgilio, Marquis of), translation of, by Henry, 
 
 Lord Carey, 118, 246. (Compare Sir S. E. Brydges' 
 
 Censura Liter., vi. 279.) 
 Manuscripts containing poems by Carew, Additional, Ash- 
 
 molean, Cosens, Harleiam, Trowbesh, Wyburd, etc., 171, 
 
 etc. ; seldom trustworthy, 213, 238. 
 Marigold (The), poem, 39 ; another on the same, 221 ; 
 
 answered, 222. 
 Marlowe, Christopher, quoted, 230. 
 Masques, their cost [e.g. Shirley's Triumph of Peace, Feb. 3, 
 
 163I, at Whitehall, cost ;^2I,000, one thousand being for 
 
 the music ; but^ all this fell on the Inns of Court, volun- 
 tarily"), xi, 249. See Coelum B. 
 Massinger, Philip, dramatist, quoted, 217. 
 Matthew, Sir Toby, a convert to Romanism, 249. 
 May, Thomas, Carew's poem to, 119, 247. 
 Menzies or ]Mennis, Sir John, of Musarum Delicise, 186, 231. 
 Methodus Amandi ; by T. Carey or T. Carew, reprinted, 92, 
 
 103, 214. 
 Middle-Littleton, Worcestershire, xv. 
 Milton, John, his Psalms mentioned, 19 1 ; Sonnet on 
 
 Fairfax, 220 ; his Poemata, 227 ; his Comus (1634), viii. 
 Mirror which flatters not. The, 239. 
 Mistress, as a term of honour, 214. 
 Mistress of Philarete (Fair Virtue), The, 250,
 
 282 INDEX. 
 
 Mole in Celia's bosom, poem on a, 102. 
 
 Monmouth, Earl of, iiS, 238, 246. See Carey, Henry. 
 
 Monro, Cecil, his Acta Cancellaria (1847), xv. 
 
 Montague (or Mountague), the Hon. Walter, friend of 
 Carew, sou of first Earl of Manchester, xi ; hi.< travels, 
 123 ; another poem to hiin, 124 ; his Shepherd's Paradise, 
 a pastoral comedy, mentioned, by Carew, 114, 243; and 
 satirized by Suckling, 249 ; his other works, Hid. 
 
 Moschus, his Eros Drapetcs, 183. 
 
 jNIunsey, William, 174. 
 
 Musarum Delicite; or, The Muses' Recreation (1656), 'by 
 Sir J. M. and Ja. S.,' 186, 231. 
 
 Nai's (in doubtful Carew poem), 180 ; note on the name, 250. 
 Nash (Treadway Russell), his Coll. for Hist, of Worcester- 
 shire, I7SI-99, XV. 
 
 Nebuchadnezzar (Daniel, iii.), alluded to, 6, 215. 
 
 Neville, Gilbert, friend of Carew, xx ; poem addressed to 
 
 him, 125 ; no other letters found, 259. 
 Neville (Katherine, supposed to be daughter of Sir Thomas 
 
 N.), XX ; poem by Carew to her and her sister Mary, lOl, 
 
 1 86 ; another by a different hand, 187. 
 Neville, Mary, xx ; Carew's poem on her paleness and her 
 
 sister's, 10 1. 
 Newburgh, Lad}', her conversion, 249. (She died of the 
 
 small-pox, circa 1641 ; Cartwright's poem on the event 
 
 begins ' I now believe that Heaven once shall shrink.') 
 Newport (jNIountjoy Blount, in 1628), first Earl of, 167. 
 Nichols, John Bowyer, his (1S38) Collectanea Topographica 
 
 et Genealogica, xv. 
 Notes and Queries (often helpful), mentioned, 207 ; Bolton 
 
 Corney's self-opinionative doubt, devoid of eviiieuce, and 
 
 founded on sheer blunder, 249. 
 Nympha Libethris ; or, The Cotswold Muse, quoted, xxiii, 
 
 254- 
 
 Ore tenu, a law-term = by word of mouth, cross-exam., 138. 
 Oxford, Corpus Christi College, Carew at, xvi. 
 
 Paget (William, in 1629), fifth Lord, a masquer, 167. 
 Paradise, The Shepherd's, Walter Montague's pastoral, 115, 
 
 146, 249. 
 Parnassus Biceps (1656), choice pieces of poetry, 23 1. 
 Parnassus, Great Assizes holden on, xxv, 250. 
 Pastoral Dialogue, between Celia and Cleon, 39, 212 ; 
 
 Shepherd and Nymph, 42, 212. 
 Pennington, Lady, Carew's elegy on her, 17.
 
 INDEX. 283 
 
 Pennington, Sir Isaac, Lord Mayor of London, 236. 
 
 Percy (Henry), eighth Earl of Northumberland, his daughter 
 Lucy, 99, 218. (See Carlisle.) 
 
 Percy (Thomas), afterwards Bishop of Dromore, 262. 
 
 Petrarch, Prancesco, seen with Laura, in Hades, 49, 250, 
 
 Pewsham, near Chippenham, Wilts., in 1630, disfoi-ested, 242. 
 
 Phillips(Edward), nephewof jNIilton, hisTheatrumPoetarum, 
 on Carew, xxiv ; his supposed editing or compiling of 
 Parnassus Biceps, and Sportive Wit, or Lusty Droller}-, 
 both of 1656, 231. 
 
 Phillis, imperfect ode to her, attributed to Carew (Ashmol. 
 MS.), 175 ; fully given, 252. 
 
 Pick, Samuel ('S. PV), his Festum Voluptatis, 215. 
 
 Playford, Henry, his Theatre of Music, 174. 
 
 Playford, John, publisher, his Musical Companion, 174, 23S. 
 
 Pocula Castalia (Robert Baron's), quoted, xxiv, 253. 
 
 Porter, Walter, his madrigals (1632 : one is Carew's), 215. 
 
 Primrose, The, 73 ; given to Herrick by Lawes, 105 ; pro- 
 bably by Carew, better version than Hesperides, 213, 255. 
 
 Prince d'Amour (1660), 182. 
 
 Procter, Walter Bryan, 'Barry Cornwall,' on Carew, viii. 
 
 Propriety = property (as in W. Cartwright's New-Year's 
 Gift poem, 'Although Propriety be crost, by those that 
 cry't up most'), 124. 
 
 Prynne, William, his libellous Histriomastix, and his 
 punishment, 249. 
 
 Pureed, Henry, composer of Chloris in the Snow, 174. 
 
 Pym, John, 218, 235, 236; Pym's Anarchy, 236. 
 
 R., C. (query Ross?), cousin of Carew, his marriage, 44. 
 Randolph, Thomas, the dramatist, answer to Jonson, 227. 
 Rapture, A, 45 ; mentioned, 175, 222, 251 ; the Second 
 
 Rapture, 50; mentioned, 21S, 222. 
 Reeves and Turner, publishers of Carew, 259, 260. 
 Rich, Lord, a masquer, 167. 
 Ribbon, love-token around the arm of a lady, 26 ; another 
 
 version, 173 ; a black one worn by Lucinda, mentioned in 
 
 poem by Herrick (Hesperides, No. 169), 'I saw about her 
 
 spotless wrist, of blackest silk a curious twist,' etc. 
 Rivers family of Penshurst, related to Carew, xv ; Sir John 
 
 and his daughter Alice, ibid. 
 Robinson, Clement, cp.ioted, 222. 
 Robinson, John, Vicar of Sunninghill, Berks., his jDetition, 
 
 xxiii. 
 Romeo and Juliet, streaks of dawn. 212 ; early marriage 
 
 cited, 223. 
 Roiburghe Ballad, quoted, 221.
 
 284 INDEX. 
 
 lloxburghe Library edition of Carew, 1 870, praised for 
 valuable enumeration of documents open for collation, not 
 at all for its rendering of text, or portrait, 263, 264. 
 
 S., E. (Elizabeth Sheldon?), her sickness, 28. 
 Salter, Sir William, who lived near Eton, mentioned, 52. 
 Salter, Lady, her epitaph by Carew, who was related to 
 her (born Draper ?), 52 ; as she predeceased Carew she could 
 not tell of his last illness : her son William was ' doltish ' 
 (apud Wood), a pupil of John Hales ; so perhaps his wife, 
 a junior Lady Salter was the chatterer, if any, 252. 
 Salton (vel Saltoun, Alexander), Lord, a masquer, 167. 
 Sandford, Ezekiel, 255. 
 
 Sandys, George, poet, traveller, and translator, xx, 243 ; 
 addressed by Carew, 117; his paraphrases, 243, 245, 259 ; 
 Archbishop Trench's eulogium of Carew's poem, 246. 
 Saville, Sir Henry, and his daughter Anne, xix. 
 Saxham, co. Suffolk, seat of the Crofts family, xi, xx, xxiv, 
 218; Carew's poem on his winter entertainment there, 
 24 ; King Charles I. welcomed there by John Crofts, 27. 
 Selden, John, xx ; his Marmora Arundeliana, 220. 
 Serre (Jean Puget de la), book trans, by Tho. Carey, 239. 
 Session of Poets (circulated in MS., 1637), 244, 249, 250. 
 Sewer, or Cup-bearer, arranger of banquet-table, xx, 253. 
 Shakespeare, his Pdchard IL, 216; his Coriolanus, 213 ; his 
 
 Romeo and Juliet, 212, 223 ; Julius Cassar, 258. 
 Sheldon (of Houby, Leicestershire), Thomas, and daughter 
 
 Elizabeth, mentioned, 239. 
 Shireborn (Sherboi'ue ?), 258. 
 
 Shirley, James, dramatist, Carew's poem of the Hue and 
 Cry, 71 ; printed in Shirley's Comedy, 180; and among 
 Shirley's Poem.s 181 ; his Triumph of Peace, masque, 
 (compare David Masson's Milton, 1859, i. 547), 249. 
 Sidney, Sir Philip, viii ; seen in Hades, with Stella, 250. 
 Simpson, Christopher, composer, 174. 
 Smith, Dr. James, his Musarum Delicise, 186, 231. 
 Southey, Robert (his Select Works of the British Poets, 
 
 1831), xiii, 263. 
 Southwell, Robert, S.J., his Poems announced, 264. 
 Speculum Amantis, mentioned, 243. 
 Spencer, Henry, a masquer, 167. 
 Spenser, Edmund, his Epithalamion, x ; Hymn of Heavenly 
 
 Beauty, quoted, 216; his Faerie Queene, 255. 
 Sportive" Wit ; or, The Muses' Merriment, 186, 23 1. 
 Stafford (William Howard), Viscount, 250. 
 Stanley, Thomas, poem to him by Shirley, quoted, 254. 
 State Papers, Domestic, Jac. 1. et Carol. I., xviii, xxiv, 260.
 
 INDEX. 285 
 
 Sternhold (Thomas) and Hopkins (John) mentioned, 191. 
 
 Stipendiariae Lachiymre, quoted, 251. 
 
 Stow, John, his Survey, xv. 
 
 Strafford, Earl of, 218, 236, 250. 
 
 Suckling, Sir John, x ; his equivocal friendship, xvii, 227 ; 
 ballad on a Wedding, xx ; his lines to Mrs. A. L. quoted, 
 215 ; his grossly insulting and probably false poem ad- 
 dressed to one T. C, mentioned, xxiv, 223 ; his Dialogue 
 between himself and Carew concerning Lucy, Countess of 
 Carlisle, 218; given, 219; his Session of Poets, 243; 
 quoted, on Carew, 245 ; on Davenant, 250 ; on Wat 
 Montague, 249 ; his sense of humour a safeguard to him 
 against the bathos of solemn conceits, 225 ; his lines to 
 Henry Carey, 246 ; his death, xxiii ; seen in Hades, 251. 
 
 Sunninghill, Berks., the manor, part of Windsor forest, 
 granted to Carew by Charles I., xiv, xv, 252 ; Yicar's peti- 
 tion, against Carew's executors in April 1638, xxiv. 
 
 Tasso, Torquato, his Amor Fugitive, 183. 
 
 Teniiyson, Alfred, his study of Carew, and its echo in the 
 Princess, 179, 183; his CEnone quoted, ix. 
 
 Theobald, Lewis, 264 ; quotation from, 270. 
 
 Tixall Poetry, quoted, 250, 251. 
 
 Townsend, Aurelian, poet, friend and (for Walkley) editor 
 of Carew, xi, 260 ; answer to his Letter on tlie death 
 of Gustavus Adolphus, 114 ; his poem in answer to the 
 Enquiry, ' Where shall I find my Shepherdess ? ' 228 ; 
 other poems by him acknowledged or unacknowledged, 
 228, 240 ; his two masques, ibid. ; some connection with 
 'Shepherd's Paradise,' 115 ; mentioned, 259. 
 
 Trench (Richard Chenevix), late Archbishop of Dublin, 246. 
 
 Tweedside, scenery contraste.d with that of Wrest, 125, 259. 
 
 Twysden, Sir Ralph, 236. 
 
 Vandyck [vcl Vandyke), Anthony, his possible portrait of 
 Celia, vi ; his genuine portrait of Carew at Windsor, viii, 
 
 Varchi, Benedetto (1502-1565), 1 18. 
 
 Varin {alias Warin), Jean de, engraver and medallist, born 
 at Sedan, 1599, visited England, and died at Paris, 1672, 
 his beautiful medallion of ' Thomas Cary, 1633,' sic, not 
 of Thomas Carew, therefore not here reprodueed, viii, 262. 
 
 Vaughan (John, afterwards Sir John), friend of CareM', xx. 
 
 Villiers, Anne (afterwards Saville, Countess of Sussex, and 
 lastly, Barde), xix. 
 
 Villiers, Barbara (afterwards Palmer, and Countess of 
 Castlemaine ; in Aug. 1670, Duchess of Cleaveland), 247. 
 
 Villiers, Charles, dies sine -proles, 242.
 
 286 INDEX. 
 
 Villiers (Christopher), Earl of Anglesea, his death, io8. 
 
 Villiers, Elizabeth (born Sheldon), 242. See Anglesea. 
 
 Villiers, George, first Duke of Buckingham, the inscriptions 
 on his tomb, 54, 55 ; Waller's poem on his sickness and 
 recovery, loo, 213; defence of him against aspersions, 225. 
 
 Villiers, Lady Mary, a child, Carew's epitaph on her, 51. 
 [She could not have been, as alleged, the daughter of 
 George, first Duke of Buckingham, governess to the 
 Princess Henrietta (afterwards Duchess of Orleans).] 
 
 Virgil's .cJEneid, alluded to, 122. 
 
 Walden (John Hay, eighth Baron, afterwards first Earl 
 of Tweeddale), Lord, one of the masquers, 167. 
 
 Walkley, Thomas, Carew's publisher, xxxi, 260. 
 
 Waller, Edmund, his poem on George Villiers's sickness 
 and recovery (wrongly inchided among Carew's poems 
 in 1640, 1870, 1893), 100, 213, 261 ; his poem to Lucy, 
 Countess of Carlisle, in mourning, 240 ; on her Chamber, 
 241 ; on the Couutess of Anglesea, 242 ; xxii, 246, 254. 
 
 Walton, Izaak, xxiii, 252 ; but see Salter, 284. 
 
 Warburton (William), Bishop, mentioned, 218, 270. 
 
 Wai'ton, Dr. Thomas, Hist. Eng. Poetry, quoted, xiii, 262. 
 
 Wentworth, Lady Anne, daughter of Sir Thomas Wentworth, 
 niece of Tom Killigrew, poem on her projected marriage 
 with L. C. Justice Finch, 82, 237 ; .and another on her 
 subsequent marriage with John, second Lord Lovelace, 83 ; 
 ultimately sole heiress of T. W., Earl of Cleaveland, 242. 
 
 Wentworth (,Tohn), Earl of Strafford, xiii, 218, 236, 250. 
 
 Wentworth, Lady Mary, poetic inscription on her tomb, 53. 
 
 Wentworth (Thomas), Lord, Earl of Cleaveland, married 
 one of the Crofts of Saxhani, Anne, his first wife, next, 
 Catherine, daughter of Sir John Wentworth, of Gosfield 
 Hall, Essex, and survived until 1667, but his son died 
 before liim, leaving his daughter, Ann Lovelace, sole heiress 
 to the barony of Wentworth, 242. 
 
 Westcote, Thomas, his View of Devonshire, 1630, 239. 
 
 Westminster School, the Carews at, xv. 
 
 Weston, the Hon. Benjamin, 242. 
 
 Wharton (Philip), fourtli Lord, a masquer, 167. 
 
 Wheeler, Elizabeth, supposed to have been addressed in the 
 ' Enquiry.' 228. 
 
 Whitehall, Entertainments at, xi, 56, 129, 184, 246, 253. 
 
 Wickham, co. Kent, birthijlace of Carew's brother, Matthew, 
 and perhaps his own, xv ; revisited, 258. 
 
 Windsor Castle, viii, 164. 
 
 Winwood, Sir Ralph, secretary at the Hague, xviii. 
 
 Wit Restored, 231.
 
 INDEX. 287 
 
 With light caiid h)w-bL41, 1S2 ; annotated, 253. 
 
 Wither, George, .supposed author of a satirical poem, The 
 
 Great Assizes holden in Parnassus, mentioning Carew, 
 
 xxiv ; quoted, 251. 
 Wit's Interpreter, 216, 227, 231, 239. See Interpreter. 
 Wit's Recreations, 216. 
 Woburn Park, Beds., mentioned, 186, 259. 
 Wood (Anthony ?i), 188 ; his Athente Oxonienses, and Fasti, 
 
 quoted, XV, xix, xxi, 188, 207, 2i6, 238. 
 Woodstock, xviii, 256, 257. 
 Wrest, six miles south of Bedford, poem written there, 125, 
 
 186 ; a seat of the Earls of Kent (Brydges, Gens. Lit., iii. 
 
 69), mentioned, xi, 259' 
 Wyburd MS., quoted, 179, 1S2, 184, 186, 187, 191, 200. 
 Wycherley, William, 247; lines on 'great wits and great 
 
 braves,' 248. 
 
 York House, in the Strand, mentioned, 222. 
 Zola, Emile, his Nais Micoulin, mentioned, 252. 
 
 Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co. 
 Edinbtir^h and London
 
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