PRESEf^TED BY CLASS OOK KING'S DAUGHTERb ^ "■'*-*, .-^ ^ Palmyra, N. Y. THE POEMS Sir John Suckling CJFiti) ^rrface anQ :>fotPS EDITED BY FREDERICK A. STOKES SECOA^'D EDITION l!:^tPM-rL„,,:n r -_J NEW YORK FREDERICK A. STOKES & BROTHER MDCcri.xxyv REPLACING COPYRIGHT, 1886, BY WHITE, STOKES, & ALLEN. CONTENTS Ivi8e8478 (Facsimile of Sir John Suckling's Sign a ture.) CONTENTS PAGE PREFACE, xiii SONGS, '• Why so pale and wan, fond lover ? " 3 " I prithee send me back my heart," . 5 A Song to a Lute, .... 7 The honest Lover, .... 8 The careless Lover, . . . . 11 " The crafty boy that had full oft es- say'd," ...... 14 "When, dearest, I but think of thee," 16 Prince Thersames's Song, . . . 18 " I prithee spare me, gentle boy," , 20 "Unjust decrees, that do at once exact," 22 "If you refuse me once, and think again," ...... 24 CONTENTS, VERS n OCCASION. A Ballad upon a Wedding, ... 31 Upon my Lord Broghill's Wedding, . 37 To a Lady that forbade to love before Company, ^o Upon the black Patches worn by my Lady D. E., 42 Upon the first Sight of my Lady Sey- mour , 44 Upon my Lady Carlisle's walking in Hampton Court Garden, . . 45 To my Lady E. C. at her going out of England, 47 On New Year's Day, 1640, ... 49 To my Lord Lepington upon his Trans- lation of Malvezzi, .... 52 To Will. Davenant upon his Poem of " Madagascar," . . . . 5$ To Will. Davenant upon his other Poems, 57 To Will. Davenant for Absence, . . 58 Sir. John Suckling's Answer, . . 60 Upon Sir. John Laurence's bringing CONTENTS, VII Water over the Hills to my Lady Middlesex's House at Witten, . 63 POUR L' AMOUR. Perjuiy excused, ..... 67 Love's Burning-glass, .... 63 The Miracle, 69 A Supplement of an imperfect Cop}'- of Verses of Mr. William Shake- speare's, 70 Love's World, 'J2i "That none beguiled be by Time's quick flowing," 73 The Invocation, 80 The Expostulation, .... 82 Detraction execrated, .... 84 Love's Representation, ... Z^ Non est mortale quod opto, ... 90 Upon two Sisters, .... 92 To his Rival, ...... 94 " My dearest rival, lest our love," . . 97 CONTRE L' AM OUR, Love and Debt alike troublesome, 103 Vlll CONTENTS, The constant Lover. (A Poem with the Answer), . . io6 Love turned to Hatred, • 109 Verses, .... . III The Siege of a Heart, . . 113 Loving and Beloved, . 116 The Discomfort of Love, . 118 The Metamorphosis, . 119 Against Absence, . . 120 Against Realization, . 122 No exclusive Property in '. ^ove, . 124 A play at Barley-break, . 126 The guiltless Inconstant, . 128 Farewell to Love, . • • 130 CHANSONS BACHIQUES, *' A hall, a hall to welcome our friend," 137 " Come, let the State stay," . . . 138 " She's pretty to walk with," . . 139 [ " That box, fair mistress, which thou gav'st to me," . . . . 139 " Fill it up, fill it up to the brink," . 140 " Some candles here ! " . . . 140 CONTENTS. ix " Come, come away, to the tavern, I say," 141 FRAGMENTS FROiM THE DRAMAS. " This moiety war," . . . . 145 " Bring them, bring them, bring them in," 145 " Welcome, welcome, mortal wight," . 146 " O, what a day was here ! " . . 146 SONNETS. " Dost see how unregarded now," . 149 " Of thee, kind boy, I ask no red and white," 150 " O, for some honest lover's ghost," . 151 TRANSLATIONS. Desdain^ . . , . . , 157 ^^ El UEV ^v ixc^elv" 160 MISCELLANIES. His Dream 165 An Answer to some Verses made in his Praise, 167 CONTENTS. A poetical Epistle, . , . . 169 A Sessions of the Poets, . . . 172 A Barber, 181 A Pedlar of Smallwares, . . . 183 PROLOGUES AND EPILOGUES. . A Prologue to a Masque at Witten, , 187 Prologue to Aglaura, . . , 1S8 Prologue for the Court (Aglaura), . 190 To the King (Aglaura), . . . 192 Epilogue to Aglaura, . . . 193 Epilogue for the Court (Aglaura), . 195 Prologue to Aglaura presented at the Court, 196 Prologue for the Court (Aglaura pre- sented at the Court), . . . 198 Epilogue to Aglaura presented at the Court, ...,,. 200 Prologue to The Goblins, . . . 201 Epilogue to The Goblins, . . . 203 NOTES 207 PREFACE PREFACE The fascinating verse of Sir John Suckling, courtier and wit, has not been accessible to the general reader because of the scarcity or high price of the various editions. The present is the only collection of his poems which has been published in this country. Of comparatively re- cent English editions, that of 1836, v/ith its pon- derous memoir by the poet's worthy relative, the Rev. Alfred Suckling, is somewhat scanty, omit- ting many verses which are given here; while that of 1874, on the contrary, is objectionable because of its retention of many lines and v/hole poems which are altogether unfit for modern readers, and which do not appear in this volume. In the garden of Suckling's verse, side by side with rare blossoms of delightful fragrance, grew unsightly and noisome weeds. Of course XIV PREFA CE. they were affected by their surroundings and by the unnatural light of his court and his time ; but some of his writings outrage the taste or morality of to-day. He is, however, although not as widely read or known as he should be, one of the immortals in literature, and had he v/ritten no- thing but "A Ballad upon a Wedding" and the song beginning " Why so pale and wan, fond lover," he would have earned his immortality. Their simplicity, grace, and wit are unmatched and are peculiarly his own. Their flavor is most rare : it delights at once, and is never forgotten. The path v/hich Suckling's verse takes never scales sublime heights, but runs through fields w^here music and laughter are heard, where beauty is seen, and where — there are occasional stormy days. His imagination never awes, nor does his feeling stir us deeply; but his fancy pleases us, his wit and gayety provoke a smile, and his careless ease and grace charm us. He conforms thoroughly to the conditions laid down for the truly successful Vvritcr of I'irs dc socziHi^ by Frederick Locker, himself a PREFACE. XV poet whose lines give us more pleasure than those of any other living writer of " this peculiar species of exquisitely rounded and polished verse." Mn Locker says: " He must not only be more or less of a poet, but he must, also, be a man of the world, in the most liberal sense of the expression ; he must have mixed throughout his life with the most refined and cultivated members of his species, not merely as an idle bystander, but as a busy actor in the throng." Suckling was a poet and a dramatist, a great favorite at the court of Charles I.^ the intimate of the wits, the reigning belles and beaux, the notables of the day, and was an active partici- pant in affairs of state previous to the execution of Strafford. Sir John Suckling (also spelled variously, Sutclin, Sutlin, Sutcling, Sutling) was born at Whitton, county of Middlesex, England. The exact date of his birth is not certain ; but it is known that he was baptized February loth, 1608-9. His parents were noble, and his father filled positions of some dignity under both James I. xvi PREFA CE. and Charles I. The partial (and somewhat prolix) Rev. Alfred endeavors to show that the paternal Suckling, also, was endowed with poeti- cal genius ; but he has slight success in his at- tempt. Our poet lost his mother when he was only five years old, and he succeeded to large paternal estates at the too early age of eighteen years. These facts undoubtedly placed him at a moral disadvantage and are partly accounta- ble for some of his misfortunes. One of his biographers makes the surprising statement that Suckling " spoke Latin at five and writ it at nine ;" but it was not until 1623 that he entered Trinity College, Cambridge, where he distinguished himself in the more ornamental and polite branches of learning, and was especially noted for his success in mastering foreign languages. His father's death occurred in the midst of our poet's university career when valuable possessions in various parts of England became his,* and in the following year he began *The Rev. Alfred Suckling, " for the amusement of the ladies," gives a part of the will of the elder Suckling : " I give to my beloved daughter Martha, a fay re ring, with clcavcn PREFACE. XV ii liis travels in Germany, France, Italy, and Spain. In Germany, he took an active part in the mili- tary operations of Gustavus Adolphus, and ac- quitted himself with much credit as one of forty sons of gentlemen v/ho served directly under the Marquis of Hamilton, the commander of the English contingent. Ill the year 1632, Suckling returned to England, and immediately took the prominent place at the gay and pleasure-loving court to which he v/as entitled by his gallantry, wit, birth, and wealth. Kis friend " Will" Davenant (sec Notes, page 217) says ; — " He (Suckling) was famous at court for his accomplishments and readie sparkling witt, that he was the bull that dyamonds: and to my two pretty twynnes Anne and Mary I give two rings with dyamonds in either of them — viz., to Anne a ring with 13 dyamonds in it, and to Mary one ring with 7 dyamonds in it. Item, I give to my very loving wyfe all her apparell, pearies, rings, and jewelles, waich she now wearcth, or hath in her possession : save only one chaync of dyamonds, which I lately bought by the help of one Mr. Hardnett, a jew- eller, and paid one hundred fifty-five pounds for the same, which is by her to be repayd to my executors within one ycare next after my decease; unless my eldest Sonne and she agree about the redemption of the manor of Rose Hall. Item, I give to my well-beloved wyfe my best coach and twoe of my best coach-horscs, and she to dwell in my house in Dorset Court (in Fleet Street) soe longe as she rcmaynes my widdosve." xviii PREFA CE. was bayted ; his repartee and witt beinge moLt sparkling, when most set on and provoked." William Winstanley* says he was, "as the dar- ling of the court." The young poet plunged deeply into all the frivolity, the recklessness, and the vice of the highest court circles, although he graced his dis- ^jSipation by many sprightly and polished verses and letters. His entertainments were superb. For some of them he wrote masques which Vv^erc performed at his house at Whittonf, and for others he devised many original features which now seem quaint. From one of these entertain- ments — rashly daring youth ! — he shut out all ladies "who could not boast of youth and beauty." The Rev. Alfred somewhat naively writes of those who did possess these two graces and were the poet's guests on ^this occasion : " These ladies Suckling entertained with every rarity which wealth could collect and taste pre- scribe. But the last course displayed his spright- *Died 1690. Author of The Lives of the Poets. tSee A Prologue to a Masque at Witten (Page 187), which was written fur one of these. PREFACE. xix ly gallantry ; it consisted not of viands, yet more delicate and choice, but of silk stockin^^s, garters, and gloves, presents at that time of no contemptible value." He is said to have spent hundreds of pounds upon this entertainment, and upon a certain countess " v/hom he had highly courted, in treating her," some thou- sands of pounds. Sir John became distinguished at bowls and cards as well as at rhymes, and the same gossip* who teils of the costliness of his courtship of the countess informs us that " no shopkeeper would trust him for sixpence ; as to-day, for instance, he might, by winning, be v/orth ^200; the next day, he might not be worth half so much or perhaps sometimes minus nihzlo." Mr. Haz- litt has found the following in a newsletter from George Garrard to Lady Conway, 1635: "I heard my Lord Dunhill lost at the Wcll.3 at Tunbridge about £1000 at ninepins, most of it to Sir John Sutlin." When fortune smiled not on Suckling and he lost heavily, Davenant sa^^s that, " he would *John Aubrey, 1626— 16^7. Antiquarian and v/riter. XX PREFACE. make himself glorious in apparel, and said that it exalted his spirits, and that he had then the best luck when he was most gallant, and his spirits high." The poet himself says (see A Sessiojis of the Poets, page 172) that : — " He loved not the Muses, so well as his sport ; And prized black eyes or a lucky hit At bowls, above all the trophies of wit.'* Once, when turning from bowls to black eyes, he met with a sound cudgelling at the hands of a Mr, Digby, " a proper person of great strength and yielded to be the best sv/ordsman of his time," while Aubrey describes Suckling as "of slight strength." After this unlucky experience, " 'twas strange," wrote Aubrey, " to see the evil and ill nature of people, to trample and scoff at, and deject one in disgrace." But Sir John's many brilliant qualities soon enallcd him to dispel the clouds of annoyance. At an entertainment of Lady Moray's, when he was imdorgning much raillery, his genial hostess called out to him : "' Well ! I am a merriev/encli and will never forsake an old friend in disgrace; so, come and sitt downe by me, Rir .Tohn.' PREFACE, xxi Upon this, she seated him at her right hand, and paid him extraordinary attention. Her well-timed kindness raised his dejected spirits so greatly, ' that he threw his repartees about the table with much sparkliness and gentileness of wit, to the admiration of them all.' " Suckling soon began to devote himself to more serious matters than those which occupi«.'d his time during these two or three years after his return from Germany, and he became much en- grossed in affairs of state ; until, in April, 1635, he was brought before the notice of the dread court of Star Chamber as one of those nobles who disregarded the law compelling them to spend time and money upon their country estates. He speedily withdrew from London and the court, and it was then that he produced most of his best literarj'- work. He lived luxur- iously, entertained handsomely, and devoted many of his hours to the Muses, but not for many years ; as the troubles of the time (1639) soon drev/ his attention, and he became again actively engaged in public affairs. When Charles raised his army to march against the Covenanters, the poet came for- xxii PREFACE. ward with a princely gift to his monarch in the shape of a troop of horse which cost the giver twelve thousand pounds. His horsemen were picked men, finely equipped and gayly uni- formed, and were spoken of as the " finest sight" in the king's forces. In a letter written at the River Tweed before the enemy had been seen Suckling describes himself and his fellow soldiers as "walking up and dov/n like the Tower lions in their cages ; leaving the people to think what we would do if we were let loose. The enemy is not yet much visible ; it may be it is the fault of the climate, which brings men as slowly for- ward as plants. But it giv-es us fears that the men of peace will drav/ all to a dumb show, and so destroy a handsome opportunity, which was now offered of producing glorious matter for future chronicle." Alas! the "glorious matter" v.'^as but an in- glorious flight of all the king's horses and all the king's men, including Suckling's one hundred, red plumes and all. This was made the occasion of the broadly humor- ous ballad of Sir John Mennis (see N'ofcs, page 210) which ridiculed the poet — a rival of PREFACE. xxiii tlic lampooner for literary honors ! — and which became a popular song with the Roundheads. But Suckling's bravery can no more be ques- tioned than that of all other individuals in an army that fled as a body at the first sight of the uncouth, poverty-stricken Scots of Dunse, fren- zied, almost, by their deep feeling. Suckling himself says : " Posterity must tell this miracle, that there went an army from the south, of which there was not one man lost nor any man taken prisoner." The incapable — and, perhaps, treacherous — carpet-knight who was Suckling's commander has, indeed, a stain upon his reputa- tion that leaves no whiteness in it ; but no part of the blot can be transferred to the name of the poet for his minor part in the disgraceful fiasco. And nov/ came the Long Parliament, of which at first our poet was a member, and a keen- sighted and a wise one, until his heart con- quered his head, and he became one of the schemers who tried in vain to save the great but venal Strafford from a dire fate. On the fifth of May, 1 641, Suckling, with Davenant and others, was summoned for examination by the Parlia- ment as a conspirator against the realm. xxiv PREFACE. He fled across the Channel, and, in Paris, pro- babl3Mn the year 1642, while in his prime, he found a terrible end. Exile, despair, and un- accustomed poverty proved too great a burden, and by his own hand he cast it all off — with his life. Had he lived to return to England and again take up his high position and literary pursuits, his later years might liave wonder- fully enriciicd the lyrical verse of our tongue, judging from the fruits of his too-short life. The portrait of Suckling which has been etched for this edition by Mr. J. S. King is after the painting by Vandyke. The poet is said to have been " of the middle size, though but slightly made ; with a winning and graceful carriage and noble features." Aubrey says he was of " brisque eie ; his head not ver}'- big; hif> hayre a kind of sand colour ; his beard turn'd up naturally, so that he had a brisk and grace- ful look." He is a thorough Cavalier in ap- pearance, as shown in our portrait of him, and has, certainlyv a prepossessing face. He died a bachelor. After his flioht from EnMand several curious PREFA CE. vxv pamphlets directed against him were published, one of which was cahed "The Suckhngton Faction or (Sucklings) Roaring Boyes," testi- mony to the fact that his enemies had thought him worthy of much notice. The great Milton refers to " Suckling and other conspirators" in connection with an accusation against the king. It is difficult to conceive of a wider difference between two contemporary poets than existed between these. Each in his life and in his v/ritings was a peculiarly fit representative of his own faction — Suckling of the looseness, the v/it, the gayety, and the recklessness of the Cava- liers ; Milton of the strictness, the lofty thought, / the solemnity, and the intensity of purpose of the Parliamentarians. But in his own true field of light lyrical verse, as Milton in his grander one, our poet stands high and looks down the centuries over the heads of many of his imitators. Many greater poets than himself are accused of appropriation of Suckling's ideas, while Pope took several lines, almost word for word, in his Essay on Criticism. Byron, Moore, Leigh Hunt and sxvi PREFA CE. others are mentioned as " suspects ;" while, on the other hand, SuckHng in his plays is said to have benefitted by many lines from Shake- speare and Jean de Balzac. Aside from his poems, little of Sir John Suck- ling's work is worthy of attention. He wrote four plays, Aglatcra, The Goblz?is, Brejtnoralt, and The Sad One, which attracted some attention at ^ourt, but whose best features are the songs scattered through them. In these dramatic works, Suckling showed the strong influence which Shakespeare had over him, and he seems to have been an ardent admirer of the great master at a tim.e when the latter was given but meagre attention. Suckling's own lines in A Siippievient of an Liipcrfect Copy of Verses of Mr. William Shakespeare' s (see page 70 and note upon it) are not altogether unvv'orthy of the author of the Lncrece, In one of his letters our poet refers to " my friend, Mr. William Sliake- speare," and of this the Rev. Alfred Suckling remarks : " This is probably an expression aris- ing simply from his admiration of our imm.ortal bard ; yet he might have seen tliat writer, while PREFACE. XXV ii a boy, and very probably had been in his com- pany." Many of Suckling's letters are extant, and are excellent in style, vivacious, and witty ; while some of his serious ones concernmg public affairs show sound judgment and high ability. But his verses chiefly interest us, and they alone of his productions are thought worthy of place in the following pages. The arrangement which has here been made is wholly different from that of any previous edition. In fact, this is the first attempt at grouping together, under various general headings, such of the poet's verses as can be so placed with propri- ety. F. A. S. NEW YORK, NOVEMBER, 1 886. w SONG. HY so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale ? Will, when looking well can't move her. Looking ill prevail ? Prithee, why so pale ? Why so dull and mute, young sinner ? Prithee, why so mute? Will, when speaking well can't win her. Saying nothing do 't ? Prithee, why so mute ? Quit, quit, for shame ; this will not move This cannot take her. SONG. If of herself she will not love. Nothing can make her The d 1 take her ! SONG. PRITHEE send me back my heart. Since I cannot have thine : For if from thine thou wilt not part, Why then shouldst thou have mine ? Yet now I think on't, let it lie, To find it were in vain. For thou'st a thief in either eye Would steal it back again. Why should two hearts in one breast lie, And yet not lodge together ? O love, where is thy sympathy, If thus our breasts thou sever? SOjVG. But love is such a mystery, I cannot find it out : For when I think I'm best resolv'd. I then am in most doubt. Then farewell care, and farewell woe, I will no longer pine : For I'll believe I have her heart. As much as she hath mine. A SONG TO A LUTE. T T AST thou seen the down i' th' air, -^ -*• when wanton blasts have toss'd it ; Or the ship on the sea, when ruder v/aves have cross'd it ? Hast thou mark'd the crocodile's weeping, or the fox's sleeping ? Or hast view'd the peacock in his pride, or the dove by his bride, when he courts for his lechery ? O, so fickle, O, so vain, O, so false, so false is she. THE HONEST LOVER. I T ONEST lover whosoever, -■- If in all thy love there ever Was one wav'ring thought, if thy flame Were not still even, still the same : Know this, Thou lov'st amiss, And, to love true. Thou must begin again, and love anew. If, when she appears i'th* room. Thou dost not quake, and art struck dumb. And in striving this to cover, Dost not speak thy words twice over, Know this. Thou lov'st amiss, SO.VG. And, to love true, Thou must begin again, and love anew. If fondly thou dost not mistake, And all defects for graces take, Persuad'st thyself that jests are broken, When she hath little or nothing spoken. Know this. Thou lov'st amiss, And, to love true, Thou must begin again, and love anew. If when thou appear'st to be within, Thou lett'st not men ask and ask again ; And when thou answer'st, if it be, To what was ask'd thee, properly. Know this, Thou lov'st amiss, And, to love true, Thou must begin again, and love anew. lo SONG. If v/hen thy stomach calls to eat, Thou cutt'st not fingers 'stead of meat, And, with much gazing on her face Dost not rise hungry from the place, Know this, Thou lov'st amiss. And, to love true, Thou must begin again, and love anew. If by this thou dost discover That thou art no perfect lover. And, desiring to love true. Thou dost begin to love anew : Know this. Thou lov'st amiss. And, to love true. Thou must begin again, and love anew. THE CARELESS LOVER. "V T EVER believe me, if I love, -^ ^ Or know what 'tis, or mean to prove ; And yet, in faith, I lie ; I do ; And she's extremely handsome too ; She's fair, she's wondrous fair, But I care not who know it. Ere I'll die for love, I'll fairly forego it. This heat of hope, or cold of fear. My foolish heart could never bear : One sigh imprisoned ruins more Than earthquakes have done heretofore : She's fair, she's wondrous fair, But I care not who know it, Ere I'll die for love, I'll fairly forego it. 12 SONG, When I am hungry, I do eat, And cut no fingers 'stead of meat ; Nor with much gazing on her face Do e'er rise hungry from the place : She's fair, she's wondrous fair, But I care not who know it, Ere I'll die for love, I'll fairly forego it. A gentle round fill'd to the brink To this and t'other friend I drink ; And when 'tis nam'd another's health, I never make it hers by stealth : She's fair, she's wondrous fair. But I care not v/ho know it, Ere I'll die for love, I'll fairly forego it. Blackfriars to me, and old Whitehall, Are even as much as is the fall Of fountains on a pathless grove, And nourishes as much my love : She's fair, she's wondrous fair. SONG. 13 But I care not who know it. Ere I'll die for love, I'll fairly forego it. I visit, talk, do business, play. And for a need laugh out a day : Who does not thus in Cupid's school, lie makes not love, but plays the fool : She's fair, she's wondrous fair, But I care not who know it, Ere I'll die for love, I'll fairly forego it. SONG. ^nr^HE crafty boy that had full oft essay 'd -^ To pierce my stubborn and resisting breast, But still the bluntness of his darts betrayed, Resolv'd at last of setting up his rest. Either my wild unruly heart to tame, Or quit his godhead, and his bow disclaim. So all his lovely looks, his pleasing fires. All his sweet motions, all his taking smiles. All that awakes, all that inflames desires, All that by sweet commands, all that beguiles. He does into one pair of eyes convey. And there begs leave that he himself may stay. SONG. 1 5 And there he brings me, where his ambush lay, Secure and careless, to a stranger land ; And never warning me — which was foul play — Does make me close by all this beauty stand. Where first struck dead, I did at last recover, To know that I might only live to love her. So I'll be sworn I do, and do confess, The blind lad's power, whilst he inhabits there : But I'll be even with him, nevertheless. If e'er I chance to meet with him elsewhere. If other eyes invite the boy to tarry, I'll fly to hers as to a sanctuary. SONG. X '% 7 HEN, dearest, I but think of thee, * ^ Methinks all things that lovely be Are present, and my soul delighted ; For beauties that from worth arise Are like the grace of deities, Still present with us, though unsighted. Thus whilst I sit, and sigh the day With all his borrow'd lights away. Till night's black wings do overtake me, Thinking on thee, thy beauties then, As sudden lights do sleeping men, So they by their bright rays awake me. SONG, 1 7 Thus absence dies, and dying proves No absence can subsist with loves That do partake of fair perfection ; Since in the darkest night they may By love's quick motion find a way To see each other by reflection. The waving sea can with each flood Bathe some high promont that hath stood Far from the main up in the rivei : O, think not then but love can do As much, for that's an ocean too, Which flows not every day, but ever ! N PRINCE THERSAMES'S SONG. O, no, fair heretic, it needs must be But an ill love in me, And worse for thee. For were it in my power. To love thee now this hour More than I did the last; I v/ould then so fall, I might not love at all. Love that can flow, and can admit increase. Admits as well an ebb, and may grow less. True love is still the same ; the torrid zones. And those more frigid ones, it must not know. PRINCE THEKS AMES'S SONG. 19 For love, grown cold or hot, Is lust or friendship, not The thing we have. For that's a flame would die, Eleld down or up too high : Then think I love more than I can express. And would love more, could I but love thee less. SOXG. T PRITHEE spare me, gentle boy, -^ Press me no more for that slight toy. That foolish trifle of an heart ; I swear it will not do its part, Though thou dost thine, employ 'st thy power and art. For through long custom it has known. The little secrets, and is grown Sullen and wise, will have its will. And. like old hawks, pursues that still That makes least sport, flies only where't can kill. SONG. 2 i Some youth that has not made his story, Will think, perchance, the pain's the glory ; And mannerly fit out love's feast ; I shall be carving of the best, Rudely call for the last course 'fore the rest. And, O, when once that course is pass'd. How short a time the feast doth last ! Men rise away, and scarce say grace, Or civilly once thank the face That did invite, but seek another place. SONG. UNJUST decrees, that do at once exact From such a love as worthy hearts should own. So wild a passion, And yet so tame a presence As holding no proportion. Changes into impossible obedience. Let it suffice, that neither I do love In such a calm observance as to weigh Each word I say, And each examin'd look t' approve That towards her doth move, Without so much of fire As might in time kindle into desire. SOA'G. 23 Or, give me leave to burst into a flame. And at the scope of my unbounded will Love her my fill, No superscriptions of fame, Of honour, or good name. No thought but to improve The gentle and quick approaches of my love. But thus to throng and overlade a soul With love, and then to leave a room for fear. That shall all that control. What is it but to rear Our passions and our hopes on high, That thence they may descry The noblest way how to despair and die ? SONG. IF you refuse me once, and think again, I will complain. You are deceiv'd ; love is no work of art. It must be got and born. Not made and worn, By every one that hath a heart. Or do you think they more than once can die. Whom you deny ? Who tell you of a thousand deaths a day, Like the old poets feign And tell the pain They met, but in the common way. SONG, Or do you think't too soon to yield. And quit the field ? Nor is that right, they yield that first entreat ; Once one may crave for love. But more would prove This heart too little, that too great. O, that I were all soul, that I might prove For you as fit a love. As you are for an angel ; for I knov/. None but pure spirits are fit lov€s for you. You are all ethereal, there is no dross. Nor any part that's gross. Your coarsest part is like a curious lawn. The vestal relics for a covering drawn. Your other parts, part of the purest fire That e'er Heaven did inspire ; Makes every thought that is refined by it, A quintessence of goodness and of wit. 25 26 SOiVG. Thus have your raptures reach'd to that degree In Love's philosophy, That j'^ou can figure to yourself a fire Void of all heat, a love without desire. Nor in Divinity do you go less : You think, and you profess. That souls may have a plenitude of joy, Although their bodies meet not to employ. But I must need confess, I do not find The motions of my mind So purified as yet, but at the best My body claims in them an interest. I hold that perfect joy makes all our parts As joyful as our hearts. Our senses tell us, if we please not them. Our love is but a dotage or a dream. SONG. ?7 How shall we then agree ? you may descend. Cut will not, to my end. I fain would tune my fancy to your key. But cannot reach to that obstructed way. There rests but this, that whilst we sorrow here, Our bodies may draw near : And when no more their joys they can extend, Then let our souls begin where they did end. VERS D'OCCASION I A BALLAD. Upon a Wedditig. TELL thee, Dick, where I have been. Where I the rarest things have seen ; O, things without compare ! Such sights again cannot be found In any place on English ground, Be it at wake or fair. At Charing-Cross, hard by the way. Where we (thou know'st) do sell our hay, There is a house with stairs ; And there did I see coming down Such folks, as are not in our town. Forty at least, in pairs. 32 --f BALLAD. Amongst the rest, one pest lent fine (His beard no bigger. Xho\ than thine) Walk'd on before the rest : Our landlord looks like nothing to him : The King (God bless him) 'twould undo him. Should he go still so drest. At Course-a-Park, without all doubt. He should have first been taken out By all the maids i' th' town : Though lusty Roger there had been Or little George upon the Green, Or Vincent of the Crown. But wot }"t>a what ? the youth was going To make an end of all his wooing ; The parson for him staid : Yet by his lea\-e. for all his haste. He did not so much wish all past. Perchance, as did the maid. A BALLAD. 33 The maid, and thereby hangs a tale, For such a maid no Whitsun-ale Could ever yet produce : No grape, that's kindly ripe, could be So round, so plump, so soft as she. Nor half so full of juice. Her finger was so small, the ring Would not stay on, which they did bring, It was too wide a peck : And to say truth (for out it must) It looked like the great collar (just) About our young colt's neck. Her feet beneath her petticoat, Like little mice, stole in and out, As if they feared the light : But O ! she dances such a way ! No sun upon an Easter-day Is half so fine a sight. 34 ^i BALLAD. Her cheeks so rare a white was on, No daisy makes comparison ; Who sees them is undone; For streaks of red were mingled there. Such as are on a Cath'rine pear, The side that's next the sun. Her lips were red, and one was thin, Compar'd to that was next her chin, Some bee had stung it newly ; But, Dick, her eyes so guard her face; I durst no more upon them gaze Than on the sun in July. Her mouth so small, when she does speak, Thou 'dst swear her teeth her words did break. That they might passage get ; But she so handled still the matter. They came as good as ours, or better. And are not spent a whit. A BALLAD. 35 Passion o'me, how I run on ! There's that that would be thought upon, 1 trow, besides the bride : The business of the kitchen's great, For it is fit that men should eat ; Nor was it there denied. Just in the nick the cook knocked thrice. And all the waiters in a trice His summons did obey; Each serving man, with dish in hand, Marched boldly up, like our train'd band. Presented, and away. When all the meat was on the table. What man of knife, or teeth, was able To stay to be intreated ? And this the very reason was, Before the parson could say grace. The company were seated. 30 A BALLAD. Now hats fly off, and youths carouse ; Healths first go round, and then the house. The bride's come thick and thick : And when 'twas nam'd another's health. Perhaps he made it hers by stealth ; And who could help it, Dick? O' th' sudden up they rise and dance ; Then sit again, and sigh, and glance ; Then dance again and kiss : Thus several ways the time did pass, Till every woman wished her place. And every man wished his. By this time all were stol'n aside To counsel and undress the bride; But that he must not know : But yet 'twas thought he guess'd her mind. And did not mean to stay behind Above an hour or so. UPON MY LORD BROGHILL'S WED. DING. DIALOGUE. S[UCKLING.] B[OND.] S. T N bed, dull man, -■- When Love and Hymen's revels are begun, And the church ceremonies past and done ! B. Why, who's gone mad to-day ? 6". Dull heretic, thou wouldest say, He that is gone to heav'n 's gone astray ; Broghill our gallant friend Is gone to church, as martyrs to the fire : Who marry, differ i' th' end, Since both do take 33 LORD BROG HILLS WEDDING. The hardest way to what they most desire, Nor staid he till the formal priest had done, But ere that part was finish'd, his begun : Which did reveal The haste and eagerness men have to seal, That long to tell the money. A sprig of willow in his hat he wore (The lover's badge and liv'ry heretofore), But now so ordered that it might be taken By lookers on, forsaking as forsaken. And now and then A careless smile broke forth, which spoke his mind, And seem'd to say she might have been more kind. When this, dear Jack, I saw, Thought I, How weak is lovers' law ! The bonds made there like gypsies' knots, with ease Are fast and loose, as they that hold them please. LORD BROG HILLS IVKDDIXC. 39 B. But what was the fair nymph's praise or power less. That led him captive now to happiness. Cause she did not a foreign aid despise, But enter'd breaches made by others' eyes ? S. The gods forbid ! There must be some to shoot and batter down, Others to force and to take in the town. To hawks, good Jack, and hearts There may Be sev'ral ways and arts ; One watches them perchance, and makes them tame ; Another, when they are ready, shows them game. TO A LADY THAT FORBADE TO LOVE BEFORE COMPANY. WHAT! no more favours? Not a ribbon more, Not fan nor muff to hold as heretofore ? Must all the little blisses then be left, And what was once Love's gift, become our theft ? May we not look ourselves into a trance. Teach our souls parley at our eyes, not glance, Not touch the hand, not by soft wringing there Whisper a love that only yes can hear ? Not free a sigh, a sigh that's there for you ? Dear, must I love you, and not love you too ? Be wise, nice, fair ; for sooner shall they trace The feather'd choristers from place to place, TO A LADY. 41 By prints they make in th' air, and sooner say By what right line the last star made his way. That fled from heaven to earth, than guess to know How our loves first did spring, or how they grow. UPON THE BLACK PATCHES WORN BY MY LADY D. E. Madam: I KNOW your heart cannot so guilty be, That you should wear those spots for vanity ; Or as your beauty's trophies, put on one For ev'ry murder which your eyes have done : No, they're your mourning-weeds for hearts for- lorn Which, though you must not love, you could not scorn ; To whom since cruel honour doth deny Those joys could only cure their misery; Yet you this noble way to grace them found. UPOX THE BLACk' PATCHES. 43 Whilst thus our grief their martyrdom hath crowned. Of which take heed you prove not prodigal. For if to every common funeral, By your eyes martyr'd such grace were allow'd, Your face should wear not patches, but a cloud. UPON THE FIRST SIGHT OF MY LADY SEYMOUR. WONDER not much, if thus amaz'd I look Since I saw you, I have been planet- struck : A beauty, and so rare, I did descry, As, should I set her forth, you all, as I, Would lose your hearts likewise ; for he that can Know her, and live, he must be more than man. An apparition of so sweet a creature. That, credit me, she had not any feature That did not speak her angel. But no more : Such heavenly things as these we must adore, Nor prattle of; lest, when we do but touch, Or strive to know, we wrong her too — too much. UPON MY LADY CARLISLE'S WALKING IN HAMPTON COURT GARDEN. DIALOGUE. T[HOMAS C[arew]. J[ohnJ S[uckling]. Tom. DIDST thou not find the place inspir'd, And flowers, as if they had desir'd No other sun, start from their beds, And for a sight steal out their heads ? Heardst thou not music when she talk'd ? And didst not find that as she walk'd She threw rare perfumes all about. Such as bean-blossoms newly out, Or chafed spices give ? i 46 CrFOA^ LADY CARLISLE. J. S. I must confess those perfumes, Tom, I did not smell ; nor found that from X- Her passing by ought 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 Of anything that was to bring This unknown after-aften spring. TO MY LADY E. C. AT HER GOING OUT OF ENGLAND. T MUST confess, when I did part from you, -*- I could not force an artificial dew Upon my cheeks, nor with a gilded phrase Express how many hundred several ways My heart was tortur'd, nor with arms across In discontented garbs set forth my loss : Such loud expressions many times do come From lightest hearts : great griefs arc always dumb. The shallow rivers roar, the deep are still. Numbers of painted words may show much skill. But little anguish ; and a cloudy face Is oft put on, U) serve both time and place : 48 TO MY LAD V E. C The blazing wood may to the eye seem great, But 'tis the fire rak'd up that has the heat, And keeps it long. True sorrow's like to wine. That which is good, does never need a sign. My eyes were channels far too small to be Conveyers of such floods of misery. And so pray think, or if you'd entertain A thought more charitable, suppose some strain Of sad repentance had, not long before. Quite emptied for my sins that wat'ry store. So shall you him oblige that still will be Your servant to his best ability, ON NEW-YEAR'S DAY, 1640. TO THE KING. AWAKE, great sir, the sun shines here, Gives all your subjects a New-Year, Only we stay till you appear ; For thus by us your power is understood ; He may make fair days, you must make them good. Awake, awake, And take Such presents as poor men can make. They can add little unto bliss Who cannot wish. May no ill vapour cloud the sky, Bold storms invade the sovereignty, 50 OA^ A'£I^F-y£AA'S DA}', 1640. But gales of joy, so fresh, so high, That you may think Heaven sent to try this year What sail, or burthen, a king's mind could bear. Awake, awake. And take, Such presents as poor men can make, They can add little unto bliss Who cannot wish. May all the discords in your state (Like those in music we create), Be governed at so wise a rate. That what would of itself sound harsh, or fright, May be so tempered that it may delight. Awake, awake, And take Such presents as poor men can make. They can add little unto bliss Who cannot wish. OiV NE IV- YEAR'S DAY, 1640. 51 What conquerors from battles find. Or lovers when their doves are kind, Take up henceforth our master's mind, Make such strange rapes upon the place, 't may be— No longer joy there, but an ecstasy. Awake, awake. And take Such presents as poor men can make, They can add little unto bliss Who cannot wish. May every pleasure and delight, That has, or does, your sense invite, Double this year, save those o'th' night; Awake, awake. And take Such presents as poor men can make, They can add little unto bliss Who cannot wish. TO HIS MUCH HONOURED THE LORD LEPINGTON. Upon his translation of Malvezzi, his ROMULUS and TARQUIN. IT is so rare and new a thing to see Ought that belongs to young nobility In print, but their own clothes, that we must praise You as we would do those first show the ways To arts or to new worlds. You have begun ; Taught travell'd youth what 'tis it should have done For 't has indeed too strong a custom been To carry out more wit than we bring in. TO THE LORD LEPINGTON. 53 You have done otherwise : brought home, my lord, The choicest things famed countries do afford : Malvezzi by your means is English grown, And speaks our tongue as well now as his own. Malvezzi, he whom 'tis as hard to praise To merit, as to imitate his ways. He does not show us Rome great suddenly, As if the empire were a tympany. But gives it natural growth, tells how and why The little body grew so large and high. Describes each thing so lively that we are Concerned ourselves before we are aware : And at the wars they and their neighbours waged, Each man is present still, and still engag'd. Like a good perspective he strangely brings Things distant to us ; and in these two kings We see what made greatness. #And what 't has been Made that greatness contemptible again. And all this not tediously derived, 54 TO THE LORD LEPINGTON, But like to worlds in little maps contrived. But stay ; like one that thinks to bring his friend A mile or two, and sees the journey's end, I straggle on too far ; long graces do But keep good stomachs off, that would fall to. TO HIS FRIEND WILL. DAVENANT. Upon his Poein of " MADAGASCAR." TT ^HAT mighty princes poets are! those ^ ^ things The great ones stick at, and our very kings Lay down, they venture on ; and with great ease Discover, conquer, what and where they please. Some phlegmatic sea-captain would have staid For money now, or victuals ; not have weighed Anchor without 'em ; thou, Will., dost not stay So much as for a wind, but go'st away, Land'st, view'st the country ; fight'st, put'st all to rout. Before another could be putting out ! And now the news in town is — Davenant 's come From Madagascar, fraught with laurel home ; S(i TO HIS FRIEND WILL. DA VENA NT. And welcome, Will., for the first time ; but, prithee. In thy next voyage bring the gold, too, with thee. TO HIS FRIEND WILL. DAVENANT. upon his other Poems. '^ I ^HOU hast redeemed us, Will., and future -*• times Shall not account unto the age's crimes Dearth of pure wit : since the great lord of it, Donne, parted hence, no man has ever writ So near him in 's own way : I would commend Particulars ; but then, how should I end Without a volume? every line of thine Would ask, to praise it right, twenty of mine. TO WILL. DAVENANT. For Absence, WONDER not, if I stay here. Hurt lovers, like to wounded deer. Must shift the place ; for standing'still Leaves too much time to know our ill : Where there is a traitor eye, That lets in from th' enemy All that may supplant an heart, 'Tis time the chief should use some art. Who parts the object from the sense, Wisely cuts off intelligence. O, how quickly men must die, Should they stand all love's battery ! Persinda's eyes great mischief do, So do we know the cannon too ; 7'0 WILL DAl'EKANT. 59 But men are safe at distance still : Where they reach not, they cannot kill. Love is a fit, and soon is past, 111 diet only makes it last ; Who is still looking, gazing ever. Drinks wine i'th' very height o'th' fever. SIR JOHN SUCKLING'S ANSWER. T TELL thee, fellow, whoe'er thou be, -^ That made this fine sing-song of me, Thou art a rhyming sot ; These very lines do thee bewray. This barren wit makes all men say, 'Twas some rebellious Scot. But it's no- wonder that you sing Such songs of me, who am no king, When every blue cap swears He '11 not obey King James his ba'rn. That hugs a bishop under his arm. And hangs them in his ears. SIR JOHN SUCA'LIXG'S ANSWER. 6i Had I been of your covenant, You would have call'd me John of Gaunt, And given me great renown. But now I am John for the King, You say I am but a poor Suckling, And thus you cry me down. Well, it's no matter what you say Of me or mine, that ran away ; I hold it no good fashion A loyal subject's blood to spill. When we have knaves enough to kill By force and proclamation. Commend me unto Lashly stout, And all his pedlars him about: Tell them without remorse That I will plunder all their packs Which they have gotten, with stolen knick- knacks, With these my hundred horse. 62 SIJi JOHN SUCK'HA^G'S ANSWER. This holy war, this zealous firk, Against the bishops and the kirk, And its pretended bravery — Religion, all the world can tell, Amongst Highlanders ne'er did dwell — It 's but to cloak your knavery. Such desperate gamesters as you be, I cannot blame for tutoring me, Since all you have is down ; And every boor forgets the plough, And swears that he'll turn gamester now And venture for a crown. UPON SIR JOHN LAURENCE'S BRING- ING WATER OVER THE HILLS TO MY L. MIDDLESEX'S HOUSE AT WITTEN. A ND is the water come? sure 't cannot be, -^ ^ It runs too much against philosophy ; For heavy bodies to the centre bend, Light bodies only naturally ascend. How comes this then to pass ? The good knight's skill Could nothing do without the water's will : Then 'twas the water's love that made it flow. For love will creep where well it cannot go. POUR L'AMOUR PERJURY EXCUSED. ALAS, it is too late ! I can no more Love now than I have lov'd before : My Flora, 'tis my fate, not I ; And what you call contempt, is destiny. I am no monster, sure, I cannot show Two hearts ; one I already owe ; And I have bound myself with oaths, and vow'd Oft'ner 1 fear than Heaven hath e'er allow'd. That faces now should work no more on me, Than if they could not charm, or I not see. And shall I break them ? shall I think you can Love, if I could, so foul a perjur'd man ? O no, 'tis equally impossible that I Should love again, or you love perjury. LOVE'S BURNING-GLASS. WONDERING long, how I could harmless see Men gazing on those beams that fired me ; At last I found it was the crystal-love Before my heart, that did the heat improve : Which, by contracting of those scatter'd rays Into itself, did so produce my blaze. Now lighted by my love, I see the same Beams dazzle those, that me are wont t' inflame. And now I bless my love, when I do think By how much I had rather bum than wink. But how much happier were it thus to burn, If I had liberty to choose my urn ! But since those beams do promise only fire. This flame shall purge me of the dross — desire. THE MIRACLE. IF thou be'st ice, I do admire How thou couldst set my heart on fire ; Or how thy fire could kindle me, Thou being ice, and not melt thee ; But even my flames, light as thy own. Have hardened thee into a stone ! Wonder of love, that canst fulfil. Inverting nature thus, thy will; Making ice one another burn, Whilst itself doth harder turn. A SUPPLEMENT OF AN IMPERFECT COPY OF VERSES OF MR. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE'S. By Sir JoJui Suckling. ^NE of her hands one of her cheeks lay- under. Cozening the pillow of a lawful kiss, Which therefore swell'd, and seemed to part asunder, As angry to be robb'd of such a bliss ! The one look'd pale and for revenge did long, While t'other blushed, 'cause it had done the wrong. A SUPPLE.\fEN-T OF VERSES. 71 Out of the bed the other fair hand was On a green satin quilt, whose perfect white Looked like a daisy in a field of grass, And showed like unmelt snow unto the sight ; There lay this pretty perdu, safe to keep The rest o'th' body that lay fast asleep. Her eyes (and therefore it was night), close laid. Strove to imprison beauty till the morn: But yet the doors were of such fine stuff made. That it broke through, and show'd itself in scorn. Throwing a kind of light about the place, Which turned to smiles still, as't came near her face, Her beams, which some dull men called hair, divided, Part with her cheeks, part v/ith her lips did sport. But these, as rude, her breath put by ; still some 7T A SUPPLE MEN 7' OF VERSES. Wiselier downwards sought, but falling short, Curled back in rings, and seem'd to turn again To bite the part so unkindly held them in. LOVE'S WORLD. T N each man's heart that doth begin -■- To love, there 's ever framed within A little world, for so I found When first my passion reason drown'd. EARTH. Instead of Earth unto this frame, I had a faith was still the same ; For to be right it doth behove' It be as that, fixed and not move. Yet as the Earth may sometimes shake (For winds shut up will cause a quake), So often jealousy and fear, Stol'n into mine, cause tremblings there. 74 LOVE'S WORLD. SUN. My Flora was my Sun ; for as One Sun, so but one Flora, was ; All other faces borrow'd hence Their light and grace, as stars do thence. MOON. My hopes I call my Moon ; for they Inconstant still were at no stay ; But as my sun inclin'd to me, Or more or less were sure to be. Sometimes it would be full, and then O, too — too soon decrease again ; Eclips'd sometimes that 'twould so fall There would appear no hope at all. STARS AND PLANETS. My thoughts, 'cause infinite they be, Must be those many Stars we see ; Of which some wandered at their will. But most on her were fixed still. LOVES WORLD. 75 ELEMENT OF FIRE. My burning flame and hot desire Must be the Element of Fire, Which hath as yet so secret been, That it, as that, was never seen. No kitchen fire nor eating flame. But innocent, hot but in name ; A fire that's starved when fed, and gone When too much fuel is laid on. But, as it plainly doth appear, That fire subsists by being near The moon's bright orb ; so I believe Ours doth, for hope keeps love alive. AIR. My fancy was the Air, most free And full of mutability ; Big with chimeras, vapours here Innumerable hatch'd, as there. 70 LOVE'S WORLD. SEA. The Sea's my mind, which calm would be Were it from winds, my passions, free ; But out alas ! no Sea I find Is troubled like a lover's mind. Within it rocks and shallows be : Despair and fond credulity. DAY AND NIGHT. But in this world it were good reason We did distinguish time and season ; Her presence then did make the Day, And Night shall come when she's away. WINTER AND SUMMER. Long absence in far distant place Creates the Winter ; and the space She tarried with me, well I might Call it my Summer of delight. LOVE'S WORLD. 77 Diversity of weather came From what she did, and thence had name ; Sometimes sh' would smile — that made it fair ; And when she laughed, the sun shined clear. Sometimes sh' would frown, and sometimes weep, So clouds and rain their turns do keep ; Sometimes again sh' would be all ice, Extremely cold, extremely nice. But soft, my muse ; the world is wide, And all at once was not descried : It may fall out some honest lover The rest hereafter will discover. THAT none beguiled be by Time's quick flowing, Lovers have in their hearts a clock still going ; For though Time be nimble, his motions Are quicker And thicker Where Love hath his notions : Hope is the mainspring on which moves Desire, And these do the less wheels, Fear, Joy, inspire. The balance is Thought, evermore Clicking And striking, And ne'er giving o'er. Occasion 's the hand which still 's moving round, Till by it the critical hour may be found. POEMS. 79 And when that falls out, it will strike Kisses, Strange blisses, And what you best like. THE INVOCATION. YE juster powers of Love and Fate, Give me the reason why A lover cross'd And all hopes lost May not have leave to die. It is but just, and Love needs must Confess it is his part, When he doth spy One wounded lie. To pierce the other's heart. THE Ii\ VOCATION. 8r But yet if he so cruel be To have one breast to hate. If I must live And thus survive, How far more cruel 's Fate? In this same state I find too late I am ; and here's the grief: Cupid can cure, Death heal, I'm sure. Yet neither sends relief. To live or die, beg only I : Just Powers, some end me give ; And traitor-like Thus force me not Without a heart to live. THE EXPOSTULATION. TELL me, ye juster deities, That pity lovers' miseries. Why should my own unworthiness Fright me to seek my happiness ? It is as natural as just Him for to love, whom needs I must All men confess that Love's a fire, Then who denies it to aspire ? Tell me, if thou wert fortune's thrall, Wouldst thou not raise thee from the fall ? Seek only to o'erlook thy state, Whereto thou art condemn'd by fate? Then let me love my Corydon, THE EXPOSTULATION. 83 And by Love's leave, him love alone : For I have read of stories oft, That Love hath wings, and soars aloft. Then let me grow in my desire, Though I be martyr 'd in that fire : For grace it is enough for me, But only to love such as he : For never shall my thoughts be base. Though luckless, yet without disgrace : Then let him that my love shall blame. Or clip Love's wings, or quench Love's flame. DETRACTION EXECRATED. THOU vermin slander, bred in abject minds Of thoughts impure, by vile tongues animate, Canker of conversation ! couldst thou find Nought but our love whereon to show thy hate ? Thou never wert when we two were alone ; What canst thou witness then? thy base, dull aid Was useless in our conversation, Where each meant more than could by both be said. Whence hadst thou thy intelligence ; from earth ? That part of us ne'er knew that we did love : Or from the air ? Our gentle sighs had birth From such sweet raptures as to joy did move : DETKACTIOX EXECRATED. S5 Our thoughts, as pure as the chaste morning's breath, When from the night's cold arms it creeps away, Were cloth'd in words ; and maiden's blush that hath More purity, more innocence than they. Nor from the water couldst thou have this tale; No briny tear hath furrow'd her smooth cheek ? And I was pleased ; I pray what should he ail That had her love, for what else could he seek ? We shorten'd days to moments by love's art, Whilst our two souls in amorous ecstasy Perceiv'd no passing time, as if a part Our love had been of still eternity : Much less could have it from the purer fire : Our heat exhales no vapour from coarse sense, Such as are hopes, or fears, or fond desire ; Our mutual love itself did recompense. Thou hast no correspondence had in heaven. And th' elemental world thou see'st is free : Whence hadst thou then this talkinj^j, monster } 86 DETRACTION EXECRATED, From hell, a harbour fit for it and thee. Curs'd be th' officious tongue that did address Thee to her ears, to ruin my content : May it one minute taste such happiness, Deserving lose 't, unpitied it lament ! I must forbear her sight, and so repay In grief those hours joy shortened to a dram : Each minute I will lengthen to a day, And in one year outlive Methusalem. LOVE'S REPRESENTATION. LEANING her head upon my breast, There on Love's bed she lay to rest; My panting heart rock'd her asleep, My heedful eyes the watch did keep; Then Love by me being harbour'd there, In Hope to be his harbinger, Desire his rival kept the door ; For this of him I begg'd no more, But that, our mistress t' entertain, Some pretty fancy he would frame. And represent it in a dream, Of which myself should give the theme. Then first these thoughts I bade him shov/, Which only he and I did know, Array'd in duty and respect. 8S LOVE'S REPRESENTATION. And not in fancies that reflect, Then those of v^alue next present, Approv'd by all the world's consent ; But to distinguish mine asunder, Apparell'd they must be in wonder. Such a device then I would have, As service, not reward, should crave, Attir'd in spotless innocence, Nor self-respect, nor no pretense : Then such a faith I would have shown. As heretofore was never known. Cloth'd with a constant clear intent. Professing always as it meant. And if Love no such garments have. My mind a wardrobe is so brave. That there sufficient he may see To clothe Impossibility. Then beamy fetters he shall find. By Admiration subt'ly twin'd. That will keep fast the wanton'st thought. That e'er imagination wrought : LOVE'S REPRESEiVTATION. 8q There he shall find of Joy a chain, Fram'd by Despair of her disdain, So curiously that it can't tie The smallest Hopes that Thoughts nov/ spy. There Acts, as glorious as the sun, Are by her veneration spun, In one of which I would have brought A pure, unspotted abstract thought. Considering her as she is good, Not in her frame of flesh and blood. These atoms then, all in her sight, I bade him join, that so he might Discern between true Love's creation, And that Love's form that 's now in fashion. Love granting unto my request Began to labour in my breast; But with this motion he did make. It heav'd so high that she did v/ake. Blush'd at the favour she had done. Then smil'd, and then away did run. NON EST MO R TALE QUOD OP TO. TO MRS. A. L. THOU think'st I flatter, when thy praise I tell, But thou dost all hyperboles excel ; For I am sure thou art no mortal creature, But a divine one, thron'd in human feature. Thy piety is such, that heaven by merit, If ever any did, thou shouldst inherit. Thy modesty is such, that hadst thou been Tempted as Eve, thou wouldst have shunn'd her sin. So lovely fair thou art, that sure Dame Nature Meant thee the pattern of the female creature TO MKS. A. L. 91 Besides all this, thy flowing wit is such, That were it not in thee, it had been too much For womankind : should envy look thee o'er, It would confess thus much, if not much more. I love thee well, yet wish some bad in thee. For sure I am thou art too good for me. UPON TWO SISTERS. " BELIEVE 'T young man, I can as eas'ly tell How many yards and inches 'tis to hell ; Unriddle all predestination. Or the nice points we now dispute upon, Had the three goddesses been just as fair — ****** It had not been so easily decided, And sure the apple must have been divided : It must , it must ; he's impudent, dares say Which is the handsomer till one's away. And it was necessary it should be so ; While Nature did foresee it, and did know. When she had fram'd the elder, that each heart Must at the first sight feel the blind god's dart : And sure as can be, had she made but one. UPON TV/0 SISTERS. 93 No plague had been more sure destruction ; For we had lik'd, lov'd, burnt to ashes too, In half the time that we are choosing now : Variety and equal objects make The busy eye still doubtful which to take ; This lip, this hand, this foot, this eye, this face. The other's body, gesture, or her grace ; And whilst we thus dispute which of the two. We unresolv'd go out, and nothing do. He sure is happiest that has hopes of either, Next him is he that sees them both togfether. TO HIS RIVAL. ""^T OW we have taught our love to know, -' ^ That it must creep where 't cannot go. And be for once content to live, Since here it cannot have to thrive ; It will not be amiss t' inquire What fuel should maintain this fire : For fires do either flame too high. Or, where they cannot flame, they die. First then, my half but better heart. Know this must wholly be her part ; (For thou and I like clocks are wound Up to the height, and must move round) : She then, by still denying what We fondly crave, shall such a rate Set on each a trifle, that a kiss TO HIS RIVAL. 95 Shall come to be the utmost bliss. Where sparks and fire do meet with tinder, Those sparks more fire will still engender : To make this good, no debt shall be From service or fidelity ; For she shall ever pay that score, By only bidding us do more : So, though she still a niggard be, In gracing, where none's due, she's free: The favours she shall cast on us, Lest we should grow presumptuous, Shall not with too much love be shown. Nor yet the common v/ay still done ; But ev'ry smile and little glance Shall look half lent, and half by chance : The ribbon, fan, or muff that she Would should be kept by thee or me, Should not be giv'n before too many. But neither thrown to' s, when there's any ; So that herself should doubtful be Whether 'twere fortune fiune 't. or she. 96 TO HIS RIVAL. She shall not like the thing we do Sometimes, and yet shall like it too ; Nor any notice take at all Of what, we gone, she would extol: Love she shall feed, but fear to nourish. For where fear is. Love cannot flourish ; Yet live it must, nay must and shall. While Desdemona is at all : ' But when she's gone, then Love shall die, And in her grave buried lie. MY dearest rival, lest our love Should with eccentric motion move, Before it learn to go astray. We'll teach and set it in a way, And such directions give unto 't. That it shall never wander foot. Know first then, we will serve as true For one poor smile, as we would do, If we had what our higher flame. Or our vainer wish, could frame. Impossible shall be our hope; And Love shall only have his scope To join with Fancy now and then, And think what Reason would condemn : And on these grounds we'll love as true. As if they v/ere most sure t' ensue : 98 POEMS. And chastely for these things we'll stay, As if to-morrow were the day. Meantime we two will teach our hearts In love's burdens bear their parts : Thou first shalt sigh, and say she's fair ; And I'll still answer, " past compare." Thou shalt set out each part o'th' face. While I extol each little grace ; Thou shalt be ravish'd at her wit ; And I, that she so governs it : Thou shalt like well that hand, that eye. That lip, that look, that majesty ; And in good language them adore : While I want words and do it more. Yea, we v/ill sit and sigh awhile, And with soft thoughts some time beguile But straight again break out, and praise All we had done before, new ways. Thus will v/e do till paler death Come with a warrant for our breath. And then whose fate shall be to die, POEMS. 09 First of us two, by legacy Shall all his store bequeath, and give His love to him that shall survive ; For no one stock can ever serve ; To love so much as she'll deserve. CONTRE L'AMOUR LOVE AND DEBT ALIKE TROUBLE- SOME. T HIS one request I make to him that sits the clouds above, That I were freely out of debt, as I am out of love. Then for to dance, to drink and sing, I should be very willing, I should not owe one lass a kiss, nor e'er a knave a shilling. 'Tis only being in love and debt that breaks us of our rest ; And he that is quite out of both, of all the world is blest : He sees the golden age, wherein all things were free and common ; I04 LOVE AND DEBT TROUBLESOME. He eats, he drinks, he takes his rest, he fears no man or woman. Though Croesus compassed great wealth, yet he still craved more, He was as needy a beggar stiil, as goes from door to door. Though Ovid was a merry man, love ever kept him sad ; He was as far from happiness, as one that is stark mad. Our merchant he in goods is rich, and full of gold and treasure ; But when he thinks upon his debts, that thought destroys his pleasure. Our courtier thinks that he's preferred, whom every man envies ; When love so rumbles in his pate, no sleep comes in his eyes. Ou-r gallant's case is worst of all, he lies so just betwixt them ; LOVE AND DEBT TROUBLESOME. 105 For he's in love, and he's in debt, and knows not which most vex'th him. But he that can eat beef, and feed on bread /^ which is so brown May satisfy his appetite, and owe no man a crown. THE CONSTANT LOVER. [A Poem, with the Answer^ THE POEM. Sir J. S. OUT upon it, I have lov'd Three whole days together ; And am like to love three more, If it prove fair weather. Time shall moult away his wings. Ere he shall discover In the whole wide world again Such a constant lover. THE CONSTANT LOVER. 107 But the spite on 't is, no praise Is due at all to me : Love with me had made no stays. Had it any been but she. Had it any been but she, And that very face, There had been at least ere this A dozen dozen in her place. The Answer, Sir Toby Matthews. SAY, but did you love so long ? In troth, I needs must blame you Passion did your judgment wrong. Or want of reason shame you. io8 THE CONSTANT LOVER. Truth, Time's fair and v\utty daughter. Shortly shall discover, Y' are a subject fit for laughter. And more fool than lover. But I grant you merit praise For your constant folly : Since you doted three whole days, Were you not melancholy ? She to whom you prov'd so true. And that very, very face. Puts each minute such as you A dozen dozen to disgrace. LOVE TURNED TO HATRED. I WILL not love one minute more, I swear, No, not a minute ; not a sigh or tear Thou gett'st from me, or one kind look again, Though thou shouldst court me to't and wouldst begin. I will not think of thee, but as men do Of debts and sins, and then I'll curse thee too : For thy sake woman shall be now to me Less welcome, than at midnight ghosts shall be; I'll hate so perfectly, that it shall be Treason to love that man that loves a she ; no LU'/E TURNED TO HA 7 'T TV. Nay, I will hate the very good, I swear, That's in thy sex, because it doth lie there ; Their very virtue, grace, discourse and wit. And all for thee ; what, wilt thou love me yet ? \ VERSES. T AM confirmed a woman can -■- Love this, or that, or any other man ; This day she 's melting hot, To-morrow swears she knows you not ; If she but a new object find, Then straight she 's of another mind. Then hang me, ladies, at your door. If e'er I doat upon you more. Yet still I love the fairsome (why ? v^ For nothing but to please my eye); And so the fat and soft-skinn'd dame I '11 flatter to appease my flame ; For she that's musical I '11 long, 1 1 2 VERSES. When I am sad, to sing a song. Then hang me, ladies, at your door, If e'er I doat upon you more. I '11 give my fancy leave to range Through everywhere to find out change ; The black, the brown, the fair shall be But objects of variety ; I '11 court you all to serve my turn, But with such flames as shall not burn. Then hang me, ladies, at your door. If e'er I doat upon you more. THE SIEGE OF A HEART. '^ I ^IS now since I sat down before -*- That foolish fort, a heart ; (Time strangely spent !) a year and more. And still I did my part : Made my approaches, from her hand Unto her lip did rise, And did already understand The language of her eyes. Proceeded on with no less art, (My tongue was engineer ;) I thought to undermine the heart By whispering in the ear. V 114 THE SIEGE OF A HEART. When this did nothing, I brought down Great cannon-oaths, and shot A thousand thousand to the town. And still it yielded not. I then resolv'd to starve the place By cutting off all kisses. Praying and gazing on her face. And all such little blisses. To draw her out, and from her strength I drew all batteries in : And brought myself to lie at length, As if no siege had been. When I had done what man could do. And thought the place mine own. The enemy lay quiet too, And smil'd at all was done. I sent to know, from whence, and where, These hopes and this relief.'* THE SIEGE OF A HEART. 115 A spy informed, Honour was there. And did command in chief. " March, march," quoth I, " the word straight give, " Let's lose no time, but leave her ; " That giant upon air will live, " And hold it out for ever. " To such a place our camp remove, " As will no siege abide ; " I hate a fool that starves her love, " Only to feed her pride." u^ LOVING AND BELOVED. ' I ^HERE never yet was honest man -*- That ever drove the trade of love ; It is impossible, nor can Integrity our ends promove ; For kings and lovers are alike in this, That their chief art in reign dissembling is. Here we are lov'd, and there we love : Good-nature nov/ and passion strive ! Which of the two should be above. And laws unto the other give. So we false fire with arts sometimes discover, And the true fire with the same art do cover. LOVING AND BELOVED. 117 What rack can fancy find so high ? Here we must court, and here engage ; Though in the other place we die. O, 'tis torture all, and cozenage ! And which the harder is I cannot tell. To hide true love, or make false love look well. Since it is thus, god of desire, Give me my honesty again. And take thy brands back, and thy fire ; I'm weary of the state I'm in : Since, if the very best should now befall. Love's triumph must be Honour's funeral. THE DISCOMFORT OF LOVE. IF when Don Cupid's dart Doth wound a heart. We hide our grief And shun relief ; ^\ The smart increaseth on that score ; For wounds unsearched but rankle more. Then if we whine, look pale, And tell our tale, Men are in pain For us again ; So neither speaking doth become The lover's state, nor being dumb. THE METAMORPHOSIS. '' I ^HE little boy, to show his might and -■- power, Turn'd lo to a cow. Narcissus to a flower ; Transform 'd Apollo to a homely swain. And Jove himself into a golden rain. These shapes were tolerable, but by the mass He 's metamorphosed me into an ass. AGAINST ABSENCE. MY whining lover, what needs all These vows of life monastical ? Despairs, retirements, jealousies, And subtle sealing up of eyes ? Come, come, be wise ; return again, A finger burnt 's as great a pain ; And the same physic, self-same art Cures that, would cure a flaming heart, Wouldst thou, whilst yet the fire is in it. But hold it to the fire again? If you, dear sir, the plague have got. What matter is 't whether or not They let you in the same house lie. Or carry you abroad to die ? He whom the plague, or love, once takes, AGAINST ABSENCE. 121 Every room a pest-house makes. Absence were good if *t were but sense, That only holds th' intelligence : Pure love alone no hurt would do, But love is love and magic too ; Brings a mistress a thousand miles, And the sleight of looks beguiles. Makes her entertain thee there, And the same time your rival here ; And (O the d — 1) that she should Say finer things now than she would ; So nobly fancy doth supply What the dull sense lets fall and die. Beauty, like man's old enemy, is known To tempt him most when he 's alone : The air of some wild o'ergrown wood Or pathless grove is the boy's food. Return then back, and feed thine eye. Feed all thy senses, and feast high. Spare diet is the cause love lasts, For surfeits sooner kill than fasts. AGAINST REALIZATION. FIE upon hearts that burn with mutual fire: I hate two minds that breathe but one desire : Were I to curse th' unhallow'd sort of men, I'd wish them to love, and be lov'd again. Love's a chameleon, that lives on mere air ; And surfeits when it comes to grosser fare : 'Tis petty jealousies and little fears, Hopes join'd with doubts, and joys with April tears, That crown our love with pleasures : these are gone When once we come to full fruition. Like waking in a morning, when all night Our fancy hath been fed with true delight. AGAINST REALIZATION. 123 O, what a stroke 'twould be ! sure I should die, Should I but hear my mistress once say ay. That monster expectation feeds too high For any woman e'er to satisfy : Then, fairest mistress, hold the power you have, By still denying what we still do crave : In keeping us in hopes strange things to see That never were, nor are, nor e'er shall be. NO EXCLUSIVE PROPERTY IN LOVE. THERE never yet was woman made. Nor shall, but to be curs'd, And O, that I, fond I, should first, Of any lover This truth at my own charge to other fools dis- cover ! You that have promised to yourselves Propriety in love, Know women's hearts like straw do move ; And what we call Their sympathy, is but love to jet in general. All mankind are alike to them ; And though we iron find KO EXCLUSIVE PROPERTY. 125 That never with a loadstone joined, 'Tis not the iron's fault, It is because near the loadstone yet it was never brought. A PLAY AT BARLEY-BREAK. LOVE, Reason, Hate, did once bespeak Three mates to play at barley-break ; Love, Folly took ; and Reason, Fancy ; And Hate consorts with Pride ; so dance they. Love coupled last, and so it fell. That Love and Folly were in hell. \ They break, and Love would Reason meet. But Hate was nimbler on her feet ; I Fancy looks for Pride, and thither Hies, and they two hug together : Yet this new coupling still doth tell, That Love and Folly were in hell. A PLAY AT BARLEY-BREAK. 127 The rest do break again, and Pride Hath now got Reason on her side; Hate and Fancy meet, and stand Untouched by Love in Folly's hand ; Folly was dull, but Love ran well ; So Love and Folly were in hell. THE GUILTLESS INCONSTANT. MY first love, whom all beauties did adoi n, Firing my heart, suppress'd it with her scorn ; Since like the tinder in my breast it lies, By every sparkle made a sacrifice. And now my wand'ring thoughts are not confin'd Unto one woman, but to womankind : This for her shape I love, that for her face, This for her gesture, or some other grace : And so I hope since my first hope is gone, To find in many what I lost in one ; And like to merchants after some great loss. Trade by retail, that cannot do in gross. The fault is hers that made me go astray, THE GUILTLESS INCONSTANT. I2() He needs must wander, that hath lost his way J^^ Guiltless I am ; she doth this change provoke, And made that charcoal, which to her was oak, And as a looking-glass from the aspect Whilst it is whole, doth but one face reflect ; But being crack'd or broken, there are grown Many less faces, where there was but one : So love unto my heart did first prefer ^ Her image, and there placed none but her ; But since 't was broke and martyr'd by her scorn, "Many less faces in her place are born. w FAREWELL TO LOVE. ELL-shadow'd landscape, fare ye well : How I have lo\red you, none can tell, At least so well As he that now hates more Than e'er he lov'd before. But, my dear nothings, take your leave, No longer must you me deceive, Since I perceive All the deceit, and know Whence the mistake did grow. As he, whose quicker eye doth trace A false star shot to a mark'd place, Does run apace, FAREWELL TO LOVE. 131 And thinking it to catch, A jelly up does snatch So our dull souls tasting delight V. Far off, by sense and appetite Think that is right And real good ; when yet 'Tis but the counterfeit. O, how I glory now, that I Have made this new discovery! Each wanton eye Inflamed before: no more Will I increase that score. If I gaze now, 'tis but to see What manner of death's-head 'twill be. When it is free From that fresh upper skin. The gazer's joy and sin. 132 FAREWELL TO LOVE. The gum and glist'ning which with art And studied method in each part Kangs down the heart, Looks (just) as if that day Snails there had crawl' d the hay. The locks, that curl'd o'er each ear be. Hang like two master-worms to me. That, as we see. Have tasted to the rest Two holes, where they lik'd best. A quick corse, me-thinks, I spy- In every woman ; and mine eye, At passing by, Checks, and is troubled, just As if it rose from dust. They mortify, not heighten me : These of ray sins the glasses be : FAKE WELL TO LOVE. 133 And here I see, How I have lov'd before, And so I love no more. CHANSONS BACHIQUES CHANSONS BACHIQUES, I. A hall, a hall To welcome our friend : For some liquor call, A new or fresh face Must not alter our pace, But make us still drink the quicker Wine, wine, O, 'tis divine Come, fill it unto our brother : What's at the tongue's end. 138 CHANSONS BACHIQUES. It forth does send, And will not a syllable smother. Then It unlocks the breast. And throws out the rest, And learns us to know each other. Wine ! wine ! II. Come, let the State stay. And drink away : There is no business above it : It warms the cold brain. Makes us speak in high strain ; He's a fool that does not approve it. The Macedon youth Left behind him this truth. That nothing is done with much thinking ; He drank and he fought, CHAiVSOXS BACHIQUES. 139 Till he had what he sought, The world was his own by good drinking. III. She's pretty to walk with. And witty to talk with, And pleasant too to think on : But the best use of all Is, her health is a stale And helps us to make us drink on. IV. That box, fair mistress, which thou gav'st to me, In human guess is like to cost me three, Three cups of wine and verses six, The v/ine will down, but verse for rhyme still sticks. By which you all may easily, gentles, know, I am a better drinker than a Po — I40 CHANSONS BACHIQUES. V. A CATCH. Fill it up, fill it up to the brink. When the pots cry clink, And the pockets chink, Then 'tis a merry world. To the best, to the best, have at her. And a pox take the woman-hater : — The Prince of Darkness is a gentleman Mahu, Mahu is his name. VI. " Some candles here ! And fill us t'other quart, and fill us. Rogue, drawer, t'other quart. Some small-beer. And for the blue, Give him a cup of sack, 'twill mend his hue." CHANSONS BACHIQUES. 141 VII. Come, come away, to the tavern, I say, For now at home is washing-day ; Leave your prittle-prattle, let's have a pottle, We are not so wise as Aristotle. FRAGMENTS FROM THE DRAMAS FRAGMENTS FROM THE DRAMAS. This moiety war. Twilight, Neither night nor day : Pox upon it ! A storm is worth a thousand Of your calm ; There's more variety in it. II. Bring them, bring them, bring them in, See, if they have mortal sin : Pinch them as you dance about, Pinch them, till the truth come out. 146 FRAGMENTS FROM THE DRAMAS. III. Welcome, welcome, mortal wight. To the mansion of the night. Good or bad, thy life discover ; Truly all thy deeds declare; For about thee spirits hover, That can tell, tell what they are. Pinch him, if he speaks not true ; Pinch him, pinch him black and blue. O, what a day was here ! Gently my joys distil. Lest you should break the vessel you should fill. SONNETS SONNETS. I. T~^OST see how unregarded now -*-^ That piece of beauty passes ? There was a time when I did vov/ To that alone ; But mark the fate of faces ; The red and white works now no more on me. Than if it could not charm, or 1 not see. And yet the face continues good, And I have still desires, And still the self-same flesh and blood, As apt to melt, I50 SOA^NETS. And suffer from those fires ; D, some kind power unriddle where it lies : Whether my heart be faulty, or her eyes ? She every day her man does kill, And I as often die ; Neither her power then nor my will Can question'd be ; What is the mystery ? Sure beauty's empires, like to greater states. Have certain periods set, and hidden fates. . II. OF thee, kind boy, I ask no red and white, To make up my delight : No odd becoming graces, Black eyes, or little know-not-whats in faces ; Make me but mad enough, give me good store Of love for her I court ; I ask no more, 'Tis love in love that makes the sport. SONXETS. 151 There's no such thing as that we beauty call, It is mere cozenage all ; For though some long ago Lik'd certain colours, mingled so and so, That doth not tie me now from choosing new : If I a fancy take To black and blue That fancy doth it beauty make. 'Tis not the meat, but 'tis the appetite Makes eating a delight, And if I like one dish More than another, that a pheasant is : What in our watches, that in us is found ; So to the height and nick We up be wound, No matter by what hand or trick. III. o , FOR some honest lover's ghost. Some kind unbodied post 152 SOATA'ETS. Sent from the shades below ! I strangely long to know, Whether the nobler chaplets wear, Those that their mistress' scorn did bear. Or those that were us'd kindly. For whatsoe'er they tell us here To make those sufferings dear, 'Twill there, I fear, be found, That to the being crown'd T' have loved alone will not suffice, Unless we also have been wise. And have our loves enjoyed. What posture can we think him in, That here unloved again Departs, and's thither gone, Where each sits by his own ? Or how can that Elysium be, Where I my mistress still must see Circled in others' arms ? SOXXETS. T53 For there the judges all are just. And Sophonisba must Be his whom she held dear. Not his who loved her here. The sweet Philoclea, since she died. Lies by her Pirocles his side, Not by Amphialus. Some bays, perchance, or myrtle bough. For diflference crowns the brow Of those kind souls that were The noble martyrs here ; And if that be the only odds, (As who can tell ?) ye kinder gods. Give me the v.'oman here. TRANSLATIONS DESDAIN. AQUOY servent d'artifices Et serments aux vent jettez, Si vos amours et vos sen'ices Me sont des importunitez ? L'amour a d'autres voeux m'appelle ; Entendez jamais rien de moy, Ne pensez nous rendre infidele, A me tesmoignant vostre foy. L'amant qui mon amour possede Est trop plein de perfection, Et doublement il vons excede De merit et d'affection. 158 DESDAIN. Je ne puis estre refroidie, Ni rompre un cordage si doux, Ni le rompre sans perfidie, Ni d'estre perfidi pour vous. Vos attentes sont toutes en vain, Le vous dire est vous obliger, Pour vous faire epergner vos peines Du vous et du temps mesnager. Englished thus by Sir John Suckling. " I ^O what end serve the promises -■- And oaths lost in the air, Since all your proffer'd services To me but tortures are ? Another now enjoys my love, Set you your heart at rest : Think not me from my faith to movq, Because you faith protest. DESDAIN. I5Q The man that does possess my heart, Has twice as much perfection, And does excel you in desert, As much as in affection. I cannot break so sweet a bond, Unless I prove untrue : Nor can I ever be so fond, To prove untrue for you. Your attempts are but in vain (To tell you is a favour) : For things that, may be, rack your brain Then lose not thus your labour. Ei uev 7/v tiaOeiv 'A 6d iraOeiv, Kat fuj naOelv, KaTidv 7/v rd fiaOeiv. Et 6e Set iraOtiv 'A del /naQelVf Tf (H fiaOdv ; Xp?) yup TraOeiv. Scire si liceret quae debes subire, Et non subire, pulchrum est scire : Scd si subire debes quce debes scire : yuorsum \ is scire; nam debes subire? I TRANSLA TIONS. 1 6 1 Englished thus — F man might know The ill he must undergo, And shun it so, Then it were good to know : But if he undergo it. Though he know it, What boots him know it ? He must undergo it. MISCELLANIES HIS DREAM. ON a still, silent night, scarce could I num- ber One of the clock, but that a golden slumber Had locked my senses fast, and carried me Into a world of blest felicity, I know not how : first to a garden, where The apricot, the cherry, and the pear, The strawberry and plum, were fairer far Than that eye-pleasing fruit that caused the jar Betwixt the goddesses, and tempted more Than fair Atlanta's ball, though gilded o'er. I gazed awhile on these, and presently A silver stream ran softly gliding by, Upon whose banks, lilies more white than snow, 1 66 HIS DREAM. New-fallen from heaven, with violets mixed, did grow; Whose scent so chafed the neighbour-air, that you Would softly swear that Arabic spices grew Not far from thence, or that the place had been With musk prepar'd, to entertain Love's queen. Whilst I admired, the river passed away, And up a grove did spring, green as in May When April had been moist ; upon whose bushes The pretty robins, nightingales and thrushes. Warbled their notes so sweetly, that my ears Did judge at least the music of the spheres. AN ANSWER TO SOME VERSES MADE IN HIS PRAISE. npHE ancient poets and their learned rhymes We still admire in these our later times. And celebrate their fames. Thus, though they die, Their names can never taste mortality: Blind Homer's muse and Virgil's stately verse, While any live, shall never need a hearse. Since then to these such praise was justly due For what they did, what shall be said to you ? These had their helps ; they wrote of gods and kings, Of temples, battles, and of such gallant things : But you of nothing ; how could you have v/rit, 1 63 AN ANSWER. Had you but chose a subject to your wit ? To praise Achilles or the Trojan crew, Showed little art, for praise was but their due. To say she's fair that's fair, this is no pains : He shows himself most poet, that most feigns : To find out virtues strangely hid in me; Ay, there's the art and learned poetry ! To make one striding of a barbed steed, Prancing a stately round : I use indeed To ride Bat Jewel's jade ; this is the skill. This shows the poet wants not wit at will. I must admire aloof, and for my part Be well contented, since you do 't with art. A POETICAL EPISTLE. WHETHER these lines do find you out, Putting or clearing of a doubt ; Whether predestination, Or reconciling three in one, Or the unriddling how men die. And live at once eternally, Now take you up — know 'tis decreed You straight bestride the college steed : Leave Socinus and the schoolmen, Which Jack Bond swears do but fool men, And come to town ; 'tis fit you show Yourself abroad, that men may know Wliate'er some learned men have guess'd That oracles are not yet ceas'd : 70 A POETICAL EPISTLE. There you shall find the wit and wine Flowing alike, and both divine : Dishes with names not known in books, And less amongst the college-cooks, With sauce so pregnant that you need Not stay till hunger bids you feed. The sweat of learned Johnson's brain, And gentle Shakespeare's easier strain, A hackney-coach conveys you to, In spite of all that rain can do : And for your eighteenpence you sit The lord and judge of all fresh wit. News in one day as much we 've here, As serves all Windsor for a year, And which the carrier brings to you. After 't has here been found not true. Then think what company 's design'd To meet you here, men so refin'd ; Their very common talk at board. Makes wise or mad a young court-lord. And makes him capable to be A POETICAL EPISTLE. ni Umpire in 's father's company. Where no disputes nor forc'd defence Of a man's person for his sense Take up the time ; all strive to be Masters of truth, as victory : And where you come, I 'd boldly swear A synod might as easily err. A SESSIONS OF THE POETS. SESSION was held the other day, And Apollo himself was at it, they say; The laurel that had been so long resen^'d. Was now to be given to him best deserv'd. And Therefore the wits of the town came thither; 'Twas strange to see how they flock'd together; Each, strongly confident of his own way, Thought to gain the laurel away that day. There was Selden, and he sat hard by the chair; Weniman not far off, which was very fair ; Sands with Townsend, for they kept no order ; Digby and Shillingsworth a little further. A SESSIONS OF THE POETS. 173 And There was Lucan's translator, too, and he That makes God speak so big in 's poetry ; Selwin and Waller, and Bartlets both the brothers ; Jack Vaughan and Porter, and divers others. The first that broke silence was good old Ben, Prepar'd before with Canary wine. And he told them plainly he deserv'd the bays, For his werecall'd works, where others were but plays. And Bade them remember how he had purg'd the stage Of errors, that had lasted many an age; And he hoped they did not think the " Silent Woman," The " Fox," and the " Alchemist," out-done by no man. 174 A SESSIONS OF THE POETS. Apollo stopped him there, and bade him not go on, 'Twas merit, he said, and not presumption, Must carry 't ; at which Ben turned about, And in great choler oHer'd to go out. But Those that were there thought it not fit To discontent so ancient a wit ; And therefore Apollo called him back again. And made him mine host of his own New Inn. Tom Carew was next, but he had a fault That would not well stand with a laureate ; His muse was hard-bound, and th' issue of 's brain Was seldom brought forth but with trouble and pain. And All that were present there did agree, A laureate muse should be easy and free. A SESSIONS OF 2'HE POETS. 175 Yet sure 'twas not that, but 'twas thought that, his grace Considered, he was well he had a cup-bearer's place. Will. Davenant, asham'd of a foolish mischance, That he had got lately travelling in France, Modestly hoped the handsomeness of 's muse Might any deformity about him excuse. And Surely the company would have been content. If they could have found any precedent ; But in all their records, either in verse or prose There was not one laureate without a nose. To Will. Bartlet sure all the wits meant well, But first they would see how his snow would sell : Will, smil'd and swore in their judgments they went less, That concluded of merit upon success. 176 A SESSIONS OF THE POETS. Suddenly taking his place again, He gave way to Selwin, who straight stepped in; But, alas ! he had been so lately a wit, That Apollo hardly knew him yet. Toby Matthews, (pox on him !) how came he there ? Was whispering nothing in somebody's ear ; When he had the honour to be named in court. But, sir, you may thank my Lady Carlisle for 't : For had not her care furnish'd you out With something of handsome, without all doubt You and your sorry Lady Muse had been In the number of those that were not let in. In haste from the court two or three came in, And they brought letters, forsooth, from the Queen ; A SESSIONS OF THE POETS. 177 'Twas discreetly done, too, for if th' had come Without them, th' had scarce been let into the room. Suckling next was called, but did not appear ; But straight one whispered Apollo i' th' car, That of all men living he cared not for 't, He loved not the Muses so well as his sport ; And prized black eyes, or a lucky hit At bowls, above all the trophies of wit ; But Apollo was angry, and publicly said, 'Twere fit that a fine were set upon 's head. 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. For, if he could do it, 'twould plainly appear. He understood more than any man there. 173 A SESSIONS OF THE POETS. And did merit the bays above all the rest ; But Monsieur was modest, and silence confessed. During these troubles, in the crowd was hid One that Apollo soon missed, little Cid ; And having spied him call'd him out of the throng, And advis'd him in his ear not to write so strong. Then Murray was summon'd, but 'twas urg'd that he Was chief already of another company. Hales set by himself most gravely did smile To see them about nothing keep such a coil : Apollo had spied him, but knowing his mind Passed by, and call'd Falkland that sat just behind : But He was of late so gone with divinity, A SESSIONS OF THE POETS. 179 That he had almost forgot his poetry; Though to say the truth, and Apollo did know it, He might have been both his priest and his poet. At length who but an Alderman did appear, At which Will. Davenant began to swear ; But wiser Apollo bade him draw nigher, And when he was mounted a little higher, Openly declared that the best sign Of good store of wit 's to have good store of coin ; And, without a syllable more or less said, He put the laurel on the Alderman's head. At this all the wits were in such amaze That for a good while they did nothing but gaze One upon another; not a man in the place But had discontent writ in great in his face. l8o A SESSIONS OF THE POETS. Only the small poets cheer'd up again, Out of hope, as 'tv/as thought, of borrowing; But sure they were out, for he forfeits his crown, When he lends any poets about the town. A BARBER. I AM a barber and, I'd have you know, A shaver too, sometimes no mad one though : The reason why you see me now thus bare, is 'cause I always trade against the hair. But yet I keep a state ; who comes to me, Whosoe'er he is, he must uncover'd be. When I'm at work, I'm bound to find discourse, To no great purpose, of great Sweden's force, Of Witel, and the Bourse, and what 'twill cost To get that back which was this summer lost. So fall to praising of his Lordship's hair ; Ne'er so deform'd, I swear 'tis sa7ts compare. I tell him that the King's doth sit no fuller, 1 82 A BARBER. And yet his is not half so good a colour ; Then reach a pleasing glass, that's made to lie, Like to its master, most notoriously ; And if he must his mistress see that day, I with a powder send him straight away.} A PEDLAR OF SMALLWARES. A PEDLAR I am, that take great care And mickle pains for to sell smallware: I had need do so, when women do buy, That in smallwares trade so unwillingly. L. W. A looking-glass, wilt please you, madam, buy ? A rare one 'tis indeed, for in it I Can show what all the world besides can't do, A face like to your own, so fair, so true. L. E. For you a girdle, madam ; but I doubt me Nature hath order'd there 's no waist about ye ; 1 84 A PEDLAR OF SMALLWARES. Pray, therefore, be but pleas'd to search my pack, There 's no ware that I have that you shall lack L. B., L. A. As for you, ladies, there are those behind Whose v/are perchance may better take your mind : One cannot please ye all ; the pedlar will draw back, And wish against himself, that you may have the knack. PROLOGUES AND EPILOGUES A PROLOGUE TO A MASQUE AT WITTEN. EXPECT not here a curious river tine. Our wits are short of that : alas the time ! rhe neat refined language of the court iVe know not; if we did, our country sport ^ust not be too ambitious ; 'tis for kings, '^ot for their subjects, to have such rare things. Besides though, I confess, Parnassus hardly, fet Helicon this summer-time is dry : Dur wits were at an ebb or very low, \nd, to say troth, I think they cannot fiow. But yet a gracious influence from you Vlay alter nature in our brow-sick crew, ^ave patience then, we pray, and sit a while A.nd, if a laugh be too much, lend a smile, PROLOGUE TO AGLAURA. I'VE thought upon 't ; and cannot tell which way Aught I can say now should advance the play ; For plays are either good or bad : the good, If they do beg, beg to be understood ; And, in good faith, that has as bold a sound, As if a beggar should ask twenty pound. Men have it not about them : Then, gentlemen, if rightly understood, The bad do need less prologue than the good ; For, if it chance the plot be lame or blind, Ill-cloth'd, deform'd throughout, it needs must find Compassion. It is a beggar without art, PROLOGUE TO AG LAURA, iSg But it falls out in pennyworths of wit, As in all bargains else — men ever get All they can in ; will have London measure, A handful over in their very pleasure. And now ye have 't, he could not well deny ye. And I dare swear he 's scarce a saver by ye. PROLOGUE FOR THE COURT. {Aglaura.) THOSE common passions, hopes and fears, that still, The poets first, and then the prologues fill. In this our age : he that writ this, by me Protests against as modest foolery. He thinks it an odd thing to be in pain For nothing else, but to be well again. Who writes to fear is so : had he not writ, You ne'er had been the judges of his wit ; And when he had, did he but then intend To please himself, he sure might have his end Without th' expense of hope ; and that he had That made this play, although the play be bad. rROLOGUE FOR THE COURT. Then, gentlemen, be thrifty, save your dooms For the next man or the next play that comes ; For smiles are nothing where men do not care. And frowns as little they need not fear. TO THE KING. {Aglaura^ THIS Sir, to them, but unto Majesty- All he has said before he does deny. Yet not to Majesty — that were to bring His fears to be but for the Queen and King, Not for yourselves ; and that he dares not say- You are his sovereigns another way. Your souls are princes, and you have as good A title that way, as ye have by blood. To govern ; and here your power's more great And absolute than in the royal seat. There men dispute, and but by law obey, Here is no law at all, but what ye say. EPILOGUE TO AGLAURA. UR play is done, and yours doth now begin : What different fancies people now are in How strange and odd a mingle it would make, If, ere they rise, 'twere possible to take All votes — But as when an authentic watch is shown, Each man v/inds up and rectifies his ov/n. So in our very judgments ; first there sits A grave grand jury on it of town-wits. And they give up their verdict ; then again The other jury of the court comes in (And that's of life and death), for each man sees. That oft condemns, what th' other juiy frees. 194 EPILOGUE TO AG LAURA. Some three days hence, the ladies of the town Will come to have a judgment of their own. And after them, their servants ; then the city, For that is modest, and is still last witty. 'Twill be a week at least yet, ere they have Resolv'd to let it live, or give 't a grave. Such difficulty there is to unite Opinion, or bring it to be right. EPILOGUE FOR THE COURT. (Aglaura.) Sir, THAT the abusing of your ear 's a crime, Above th' excuse any six lines in rhyme Can make, the poet knows : I am but sent T' intreat he may not be a president, For he does think, that in this place there be Many have done 't as much and more than he. But here 's, he says, the difference of the fates. He begs a pardon after 't, they, estates. PROLOGUE TO AGLAURA, PRESENTED AT THE COURT. 'T^ORE love, a mighty sessions! and, I fear, -a- Though kind last 'sizes, 'twill be now severe ; For it is thought, and by judicious men, Aglaura 'scap'd only by dying then. But 'twould be vain for me now to endear. Or speak unto my Lords, the Judges here ; They hold their places by condemning still, And cannot show at once mercy and skill ; For wit 's so cruel unto wit, that they Are thought to want, that find not want i' th' play. But, ladies, you who never lik'd a plot, PROLOGUE TO AG LAURA. 197 But where the servant had his mistress got, And whom to see a lover die it grieves, Although 'tis in worse language that he lives, Will like 't, we 're confident, since here will be, That your sex ever lik'd — variety ! PROLOGUE FOR THE COURT. {Aglaura, presented at the Court.) "T"^IS strange, perchance you '11 think, that -^ she that died At Christmas, should at Easter be a bride : But 'tis a privilege the poets have, To take the long-since dead out of the grave. Nor is this all ; old heroes asleep 'Twixt marble coverlids, and six feet deep In earth, they boldly v/ake, and make them (S.K) All they did living here : sometimes more too. They give fresh life, reverse and alter fate, And, yet more bold. Almighty-like create, And out of nothing, only to defy Reason and Reason's friend, Philosophy ; Fame, honour, valour : all that *s great or good, PROLOGUE FOR THE COURT. 199 Or is at least 'mongst us so understood — They give ; heav'n 's theirs ; no handsome woman dies, But, if they please, is straight some star i' th' skies. But O, how those poor men of metre do Flatter themselves with that that is not true ! And 'cause they can trim up a little prose. And spoil it handsomely, vainly suppose They 're omnipotent, can do all those things That can be done only by gods and kings ! Of this wild guilt he fain would be thought free That writ this play, and therefore, sir, by me He humbly begs you would be pleas'd to know, Aglaura 's but repriev'd this night ; and though She now appears upon a poet's call, She 's not to live, unless you say say she shall. EPILOGUE. {Aglaura, prese7tted at the Courts PLAYS are like feasts, and every act should be Another course, and still variety : But, in good faith, provision of wit Is grown of late so difficult to get That, do we what we can, we are not able Without cold meats to furnish out the table. Who knows but it was needless too ? maybe, 'Twas here, as in the coachman's trade ; and he That turns in the least compass shows most art, Howe'er, the poet hopes, sir, for his part, You'll like not those so much who show their skill In entertainment, as who show their will. PROLOGUE TO THE GOBLINS. WIT in a prologue poets justly may Style a new imposition on a play. When Shakespeare, Beaumont, Fletcher, rul'd the stage. There scarce were ten good palates in the age ; More curious cooks than guests ; for men would eat Most heartily of any kind of meat. And then what strange variety] each play A feast for epicures, and that each day ! But mark, how oddly it is come about, And how unluckily it now falls out ; The plates are grown higher, number increas'd. And there wants that which should make up the feast ; 202 PROLOGUE TO THE GOBLINS. And yet you're so unconscionable, you'd have Forsooth of late, that which they never gave ; Banquets before and after, Now pox on him that first good prologue writ, He left a kind of r^it-charge upon v/it ; Which if succeeding poets fail to pay, They forfeit all their v/orth ; and that's their play: You've ladies* humours, and you're grown to that, You will not like the man, 'less boots and hat Be right ; no play, unless the prologue be And epilogue writ to curiosity. Well, gentles, 'tis the grievance of the place. And pray consider 't, for here 's just the case ; The richness of the ground is gone and spent. Men's brains grow barren, and you raise the rent. EPILOGUE TO THE GOBLINS. AND how, and how? — in faith a pretty plot ; And smartly carried through, too, v/as it not? And the devils, how? well; — and the fighting? Well too ; a fool, and 't had been just old writing. O, what a monster-wit must that man have. That could please all w^hich now their twelve- pence gave ! High characters, cries one, and he would see Things that ne'er were, nor are, nor e'er will be. Romance, cry easy souls ; and then they swear The play 's well-writ, though scarce a good line 's there. 204 EPILOGUE TO THE GOBLINS. The women — O, if Stephen should be kill'd ! Or miss the lady, how the plot is spill'd ! And into how many pieces a poor play Is taken still before the second day ! Like a strange beauty newly come to court ; And to say truth, good faith, 'tis all the sport. One will like all the ill things in a play, Another some o' th' good, but the wrong way ; So that from one poor play there comes to rise At several tables several comedies. The ill is only here, that 't may fall out In plays as faces ; and who goes about To take asunder, oft destroys (we know) What all together made a pretty show. NOTES NOTES Song.— Page 3. This is sung by young Orsames in Aglaura (Act IV., Scene I.). Francis Turner Palgrave, who has included this ever-living song in his admirable " Golden Treasury of the Best Songs and Lyrical Poems in the English Language," has given it with the heading " Encourage- ments to a Lover.'' Orsames calls it " a little foolish counsel, 1 gave a friend of mine four or five years ago, when he was falling into a consumption." "For thoWsi a thief in either eyey — PAGE 5. Thou'st is given th' hast in some of the editions. The former is smoother and the meaning is unmistakeabie. A Song to a Lute.— Page 7. Sung to Florelio by a boy in The Sad One (Act IV., Scene III.). " / never make it hers by stealthP — Page 12. Suckling refers here and in A Ballad upon a Wedding to this lover's custom. It was, of course, to really drink the health of that fair one " nam.ed" to the drinker by himself "by stealth," while ostensibly drinking to the toast of the company. Prince Thersames's Song.— Page t8. Sung to Aglaura by " A Singing Boy," {Aglaura, Act IV., Scene I.). 2o8 NO J US. Song.— Page 20. These verses are rich with excellent figures. A Ballad upon a Wedding.— Page 31. The version of this famous ballad, v^^hich has created one of the world's " familiar quotations," is the same as that accepted by Mr. Locker in his delightful Lyra Elegajitiaruni. Mr. Locker is a critic of nice judgment and unquestionable good taste. He says in connection with this ballad : " This is one of his best poems, and as Leigh Hunt says, ' his fancy is so full of gusto as to border on imagination.' Three stanzas of the poem have been necessarily omitted." In reality six stanzas have been cut from the poem as it originally stood. It was written upon the occasion of the marriage of Suckling's friend, Roger Boyle (Lord Broghill or Brohall, afterwards Earl of Orrery), and Lady Mar- garet Howard, daughter of the Earl of Suffolk. There are evidences that it was set to music which was very popular. John Lawson * wrote of the ballad : " This is really excellent, brisk, humorous, witty, and poetical." * The editor is indebted to the Kerslake edition of 1874 for these comments by Lawsoa and Wordsworth. The editor of that edition derived them from an old copy of Suckling's Works "purporting to have been formerly in the possession of Wordsworth. All the notes written by the poet himself are initialed W. IV., or signed in full, evidently to dis- tinguish them from notes in two other hands, those of George Chalmers and John Lawson; but the authenticity of this MS. matter has (it is right to say) been called in question. The handwriting is very like Wordsworth's, which varied a good deal from time to time; but it certainly was thought that, at NOTES. 209 Wordsworth wrote : " I fully concur in Mr. Lawson's criticism, but wish that he had been more explicit. * * * This may safely be pronounced his opus niagmim ; indeed for grace and simplicity it stands unrivalled in the whole compass of ancient or modern poetry. " " IV/u-rc we do sell our hay.''' — PAGE 31. The Haymarket of London of to-day "A house with stairs.^' — Page 31. Said to be Suffolk House, afterwards Northumber- land House. " The maid, and thereby hangs a tale." — Page 33. Wordsworth wrote : "His portraits of female beauty are not so finished as those of Moore and Byron, but they possess greater attraction, because he gives only a glimpse and leaves the rest to fancy." Upon my Lord Broghill's Wedding.— Page 37. This was occasioned by the same event which gave rise to the preceding. " To hawks, good Jack, and hearts P — PAGE 39. In the edition of 1874 this line has "harts'' instead of " hearts.'' This destroys the figure ; as the meaning is that some hearts must first be tamed as falcons are ; and then these hearts will seize upon the quarry when directed to it. Jack Bond, an intimate friend of Suckling's. Little is known of him. any rate, these remarks, whether by Wordsworth or not, could nut be without a certain value." 2 1 o AV 7'ES. To A Lady that fori'-ade to love before Com- pany.— Page 40. Cibber, in his Liv^s of tfu Pods, deems these Suck- ling's best lines. The Rev. Alfred Suckling remarks, in the edition of 1836, " I can not coincide with him in this criticism." My Lady D. E.— Page 42. Conjectured by Mr. Hazlitt to be Dorothy Enion, who married Stanley the poet. " May no ill vapour cloud the sk%\ Bold siorms itiradc the sorcrnpUyy — Page 49. \ Well might the poet wish this at that lime. Within the year sat the *' long parliament." To Lord Lepington upon his Translation of Mal- VEZZT.— Page 52. Lord Lcpington's translation was published about 1637. To Will. Davenant.— Page 55. Davenant's Poems, edition 163S, contained this and the preceding as prefatory matter. Sir John Suckling's Ans\ver.— Page 60. It is not altogether certain that these are Suckling's verses. They appeared first in the edition of 1S74, whose editor found them In MS. Ashmole. They are in reference to the effective verses of Sir ]ohn Mennis — effective because directed broadly against a conspicuous supporter of a cause obnoxious to the masses, who passed the ballad noisily from lip to lip. It had little merit, and in this respect it stood on a level with the lines given here. " Commend uic unto l.ashlv .^/out.*' PAGE 61. NOTES. 211 Las/ily—LesXy, or Leslie, the general of the vic- torious Scots at Newburn. '' If thou be' St ice, I do adinireP —Page 69. Admire — wonder. A Supplement of an imperfect Copy of Verses.— Page 70. The reference is to Shakespeare's Liicrccc. The first four lines of the first stanza and the first three of the second paraphrase Shakespeare's lines ; but the remaining lines of the poem differ widely from those of Lucrece. Suckling has here attempted what would now be thought a most ambitious task (and he has not performed it badly) ; but ideas concerning Shakespeare were then widely different from those now prevailing. ^'Fright me to seek tny happinezs?" — Page 82. ''Fright meP Edn. 1836 has "Light me." The former is undoubtedly correct. " Why should my own unworthiness frighten me from seeking my happi- ness?'' " Deserving lose't, unpiiied it la?Jient H — Page 86. " Deserving lose' t?' Some editions have "deserving loos'd." Our reading is obviously correct. Upon two Sisters.— Page 92. Line 6 of this poem is lacking and has never been satisfactorily supplied. The constant Lover.— Page 106. Found (by " A. D.," conjectured by Mr. Hazlitt to be Alexander Dyce), in an obscure volume of verse of the time of Charles L 212 NOTES, A Play at BARLEY-BiiEAK.— Page 126. Barley-break was a game very popular in Suckling's time. The origin of its designation is not altogether certain. It may have been derived from " barla bracks," meaning " about the stacks" (of grain) ; as in Scotland it was played in the fields, one player chasing the others about the stacks, and each, when caught, assisting to catch the rest. Or, it may come from " barley* and break, i. e., breaking of the parley, because after a cer- tain time allowed for settling preliminaries, on a cry being given, it is the business of one to catch as many prisoners as he can.'' In England the game v/as participated in by six people at a time, who were divided into three couples, each couple being formed of a young man and a young woman. Each couple had its goal, the central goal being called " hell,'' and the latter was apportioned by lot to the couple who were to " catch " the others, if they ventured from their goals. The penalties v/ere kisses. This game has been frequently referred to by Suck- ling's contemporaries and by earlier poets. ''A hall,.a AallJ^— Page 157. Sung by Grainevert, a cavalier, in 77ie Tragedy &/ Brennoralt {KqX IL, Scene 1.). " Come, let the State j/«j)r"— Page 138. Sung by Grainevert in the same act and scene, . " The Macedon Youth''— VhGE 138. Alexander the Great. ♦Quoted from Dr. Jomicson, who suggested the first deriva- tion also. NOTES. 213 " Slices pretty to walk withP—VKQ.Y. 139 Sung by Grainevert, ibid. •' Her health is a stale.^^— Page 139. " A stale.^' This word is now obsolete. lis meaning here is " a tempting ( toast)," " an aliuremeat," " That dox, fair mistress, which thou gav'st to 7ncy — Page 139. Villanor, a cavalier, i^Brennoralt, Act 11. , 'Siccne I.) is urged to do his part in the singing and responds in this song. The preceding lines of the play are : Mar. Fine and pathetical ! Come, Villanor. Vil. What's the matter? Mar. Come, your liquor and your stanzas : Lines, lines ! Vil. Of what ? Mar. Why, of anything your mistress has given yon. Vil. Gentlemen, she never gave me anything but a box O' th' ear for offering to kiss her once. Sir. Of that box then. Mar, Ay, ay, that box, of that box ! Vil. Since it must be. Give me the poison then. \_Drinks and spits. A Catch.— Page 140. Sung by Nassurat, Pellegrin, (cavaliers of Francelia) and others in The Goblins (Act II., Scene I.). Com- pare with the following from King Lear : " The Prince of Darkness is a gentleman, Modohe's call'd and Mahu." In Samuel Harsnet's " Declaration of Popish impos- tures," the following appears : " Maho was the chief devil that had possession of Sarah Williams, but anotp.er of the possessed named Richard Mainy, v/as molested by a still more considerable fiend called Modu." {.Note in Hudson's Edition of King Lear.) 114 NOTES. Both Shakespeare's and Suckling's lines are proba- bly founded upon something which was old even in their times. " When the pots cry dink " — Page 140. Edition of 1836 reads, " When the poets cry clinks " Some candles here ! — Page 140." Sung by " a Poet," in The Goblins (Act 1., Scene I.). " Come, cofne away, to the taverti, J say''' — Page 141. Sung by " Actors " in the The Sad One. " Signior Multicarni, the Poet," takes counsel with them as to a play which is to be acted. The lines which he speaks, preceding the verses, are : " Come, let us have one rouse,* my Joves, in Aristippus, We shall conceive the better afterwards." " This 7noiety ?£;ar."— Page 145. Only half a war. Spoken by Grainevert in Bren- noralt (Act IV., Scene I.), complaining of inactivity in camp, and welcoming prospective fighting. ^^ Bring them, bring them, bring them in^ — Page 145. These lines are sung by Tamoren, " king of the thieves, disguised in a devil's habit,'' in The Goblins (Act I., Scene I.). " Welcome, ivclcome, mortal wight" — Page 146. Sung by Peridor, one of the thieves, in The Goblins (Act III.). "(7 what a day luas here,"*' — PAGE 146. These are the last lines of The Goblins and are spoken by Orsabrin, "a brother to the Prince." *Rouse, a bumper. NOTES. 215 Sonnets. — Page 149. These three poems have been given under this head- ing in various editions. Of course, the word sonnet in this sense means simply "a short poem" and not a sonnet proper. ^^So to the height and nick We up be zvoundy — Page 151. What matters it by whose hand or by what artifice we are (like our watches) wound up, if the winding be fully.done up to the exactly proper point ? Dc'sdain.—PAGis. 157. The old French given here is exactly as in the edition of 1S36. A POETICAL Epistle.— Page 169. " This poetical epistle which has considerable merit^ is addressed by Suckling to his learned friend John Hales of Eton ; he is mentioned in the Sessions of the Poets and was one of the first disciples of Socinus in this kingdom." {Note in edition of 1336.) A Sessions of the Poets.— Page 172. Wordsworth wrote : " The characters of the poet? who appear at the Sessions a.re drawn with great dis- crimination, particularly that of the poet Jonson." Sclden.—F AG^ 172. John Seldcn, " the learned antiquary.'' Statesman as well, 15S4-1&54. Weniman. — Page 172, His works and his name are wholly unknown to us. 21 6 NOTES. Sands. — Page 172. George Sandys, son of Edwin Sandys, theologian and Archbishop of Yorlc. Published travels, poems, etc., 1577-1644. Townsend. — Page 172. Doubtful and of slight importance. Digby.—VhG^ 172. Possibly Sir Kenelm Digby, 1 603-1 665. Shillmgswortk. — Page 172. Probably William Chillingworth i6o2(?)-i644. No poems of his are extant. " Lucan's translator.'^ — Page 173, Thomas Hay, 15 76-165 2. He that makes God speak so big in^s poetry." — Page 173. Impossible to tell to whom this refers. Mr. Hazlitt thinks that it may be Francis Quarles. Sclwin. — Page 173. Unknown. IVallcr.— Page 173. Edmund Waller, 1605-1687. Editions 1658 and 1836 have Walter. Author of some most charming lyrics. One of the best known is, " Go, lovely Rose." Bart lets. —Page 173. Unknown. Vaughan — Page 173. Sir John Vaughan, 1674 : An intimate friend of Selden's. Porter.— Page 173. Thought to be Edmond Porter, who published two works, at least, in the 17th Century. A'O TES. 2 T 7 " Gooii old Bc?i."—P\GE 173. Ben Jonson, 15 74-163 7, the great dramatist. He Wis poet laureate at the time that this poem was VY. itten, (the year of his death). •' Prepared before luith Canary wine.''^ — Page 173. Refers to one of the allowances made him by Charles I., '■ one terce of Spanish wine yearly." '^ Epicane or the Silent Woman,'' " The Eox,'' " The AlchemistP—^KGY. 173. Titles of some of Jonson's plays. Thomas Carew. — PAGE 174. 1589-1639, succeeded Ben Jonson as poet laureate. Many of his verses have great beauty. Sir William Davenant. — Page 175. 160 5-1668, a poet of but small merit whose works are almost wholly forgotten. He wrote Madagascar (referred to in Suckling's verses to the author) and sev- eral plays and poems. He was one of Suckling's most intimate friends. Toby Matthezvs.—PKGY. 176. " The reader will find a long notice of this eccentric character in Walpole's Anecdotes of Painting. His Lordship calls him * one of those heteroclite animals who finds his place anywhere. His father was Archbishop of York, and he a Jesuit. He was sup- posed a wit, and believed himself a politician : his works are ridiculous'. Suckling has introduced him in the same manner as he has ' Jack Bond ' and ' Torn Carew.'as an occasional interlocutor with himself in his poems. His 'v/hispering nothing in somebody's ear,' 21 8 NOTES, alludes to a ridiculous habit he had of whispering in company." — {Note in edition of 1836). Wat. Montague.— VkG^ 177. Thought to be the Honourable Walter Montague, author of The ShephenV s Paradise. ''Little Cid:'—PAGY. 17 8. Thought by the Rev Alfred Suckling to refer to Sidney Godolphin, 1610-1643. A poet and a loyalist. Hales.— F AG'S. 178. The same to whom the Poetical Epistle was ad- dressed. (See page i6g, and note, page 215.) Falkla7id.—V k.G^ 178. Viscount Lucius Gary Falkland, 1610-1643. The well-known loyalist. He was an intimate friend of Suckling. " Z"' intreat he may not be a President^' — Page 195. President — Precedent. *' Though kind last ^ sizes, ^ twill be now severe, — Page ig6. "^'z's.fj"— Assizes, i. e. at the trial of his former play of Aglaura. ** Things that ne'er were, nor are, nor e'er 7mll be.-FkG^. 203. Comparison is made with Pope's lines : " Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see, Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be." The editor acknowledges his indebtedness to the editions of 1836 and 1S74, i',i con',iectio7i ivith his preface and ?iotes. F. A. S. UNIFORM IN STYLE ANT) PRICE, IN FREDERICK A. STOKES & BROTHER b SE- RIES OF DAINTILY BOUND POETICAL WORKS, ARE ; GEORGE ELIOT'S POEMS. THE SPANISH GYPSY. CHARLOTTE BRONT]t'S POEMS. THOMAS GRAY'S POEMS. W. M. THACKERAY'S POEMS. GOETHE'S FAUST. HEINE'S BOOK OF SONGS. LON DON RH YM ES/j Frederick Locker. LONDON LYRICS, by Frederick Locker. THE GOLDEN TREASURY, by F. T, Palgrave. CHARLES DICKENS' POEMS. LUCILE, by Owen Meredith. TENNYSON'S LYRICAL POEMS. SONGS FROM BERANGER, translated by C. L. Betts. SONGS OF TOIL, by Carmen Sylva. LYRA ELEGANTIARUM, Locker. THE POEMS OF SIR JOHN SUCK- LING. Each one Vuiw.m, \6nto, onjlne laid paper, ivide margins. {Others itt. preparation.) Limp parchment-paper .... $i.oo New half-cloth, illuminated sides, gilt top. i.oo Half-calf, new colors ..... 2.00 Limp, imitation seal, round corners, gilt edges 2.50 Limp calf, in box ..... 3.00 Tree-calf, new colors 3.50 14 DAY USE RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED LOAN DEPT. This book is due on the last date stamped below, or on the date to which renewed. Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. TtKTTET— rtr DECToW^^Tt LOAN DEPT. AhH2 4 1^82 FED S " ms 2 ffic. ciK. ftPR 2 8 1982 DEC 1^8 1984 veu nccc i Rc MAR 2 6 lagj. £EU ■4V. T 0'69-(jlVlt r ' " l:; ;a r m^ Loan DEPT. I \^ab ppT. \ OCT 2 7 196948 ^:UE - OCT 19 -69 -2 PM Ij OAN D£ftT> EEC'DLDi ap^ 3^ 73-bAfc!6 nsa cm j\jov 2 issi; LD 21A-607n-7.'66 (G4427sl0)476B General Library University of California Berkeley ^H GENERAL LIBRARY U.C. BERKELEY BDDD7323SS