Occasions Off-spring. OR, POEMS, Upon severall Occasions.
To Her that loves me.
A Way with fond Hyperbolies,
Subli
[...]ing dust to Deities.
I purpose but to say y'are faire,
As Envie must confess you are:
If you were not; you should not h
[...]re
My praise, should knees couch your (desire.
But you are so, which to deny
Can be no less then Heresie.
Doubtless the Qeen of beauty was,
But like your self some peerless Lass▪
Till by her
Cyprian Zelots she
Mounted the stile of deitie.
Had you liv'd then, I really do
Presume y'had been a Goddess toe.
[Page 2] For in your features men may fre
The God of Loves artillary
Your curling Tresse, is all the bow
The wanton wars with, here below.
His fire-locks too, the world espy,
Presented in your sparkling eye:
Your fame's his Trum pet, and men seek
His Banner in your bashfull cheek.
Your pearly rows at every smile,
Like
Cadmus Troops stand ranck and file.
If then so fair a front appear,
Doubt not, there's somewhat in the rear:
But tis not fit we further look,
Since Nature's pleas'd to shut the book:
Howere I hope I sha'nt displease her,
To guess what I see not hid treasure.
‘Nil non laudabile vidi.’
To my Coy Charola.
1.
YOu cannot love; for shame
Come blush your self into a penitent flame:
Does the choice flowre resist
Because the faire st
[...]n, enjoy't that lift:
Or the eye-taking fruit,
Plead not yet ripe? away, there needs no suit.
Why women are as truly ours,
To be enjoy'd as fruit, or flowres.
But tis our fault
That we exhalt
Them so, that they rebell against our powres
2.
COme, come, yet I affect yee,
If you can't love again; Let me direct yee
'Tmay be 'cause you are fair,
And levigable as the downy aire;
You stand upon't, you will not yeeld,
But Phoenix-like your self will build.
Do so, and then
Repent agen;
When Autumne hath possess'd your own fair field.
3.
BUt oh behold I woo
VVho should command, I beg and glad on't too,
My
Charola admires,
Since she is Ice, I so complain of fires.
Had she a flaming Dart,
She would improv't to warm her own cold heart.
Ah me, does not Dame nature stint
Her flame-begetting sparks to flint?
Pray do but feel
The stone-cold steel;
And if you can say there's no fire within't,
4.
But ah my vaine complaint!
My Obsequies attend a scornfull Saint.
Water by dropping oft
Is wont to make the hardest marble soft:
But my moist eyes procure,
No gentlenes, but rather make obdure.
But I have done my do, for I
Find all things meere in misery.
In vain I strive;
Since I have seen an Angel, I must dye,
5.
How dye? why so, did not
The Queen of Beauty on
Adonis dote?
And
Paris confident eyes,
Survey the features of three Deities?
Ah but far more divine,
Is my fair Saint then
Paris triviall Trine:
Whom while I court, my hopes but reare
A fancy'd Castle in the Aire.
Not unlike those
That do suppose
Their wish effected in a falling Star.
‘Credo equidem nec vana fides genus esse dearum.’
Love-sick Lucilla to her unkinde Shepheard.
ANd must I dye? and must I dye for love?
For love, that makes me like the Gods above▪
If I must dye, what need these flames? belike
You'l execute me as an Heretique
But
Momus teach me a new A. B. C.
If firm, and faithfull love be heresie:
If death must be the doom of love; pray what
Shall be the sentence of novercall hate?
If zealous love merit a mortall curse,
Sure hate, a cold devotion merits worse.
[Page 5] Yet how unjust is this? stories relate
Many that dy'd for love, but none for hate.
Is there no Herb that may my greifs remove,
No Antidore 'gainst this hot poyson Love?
Pitty yee Gods, pitty my youth, and beauty,
See how each Organ buckles to his duty.
Cannot my prayers; cannot my tears prevail
What, shall
[...]y sighs, my sobs, my groans all fail?
Where is the Sisters thrift that goes about
To cut my Thread ere it be half drawn out?
Let me but see the twylight of my age,
And then persue the utmost of your rage:
Why was
Lucina present at my birth,
Whilst the propitious Gods promis'd me mirth?
Why came gl
[...]d
Hymen with his Tapour light
To mock me with the hopes of nuptiall night?
And why was
Venus then ascendent; why
Did all the Graces grace me since I dye?
But while I thus in vain urge my complaint,
I loose my breath, Ah me I fainr, I faint.
‘Deficiam parvi temporis adde moram.’
To Abstentia.
1.
I Never was in love,
Nor will be for my part,
I never felt the Archer move;
Alas he has no dart
Or else no eyes to hit my heart.
2.
ANd yet doth love I vow,
In this my bosome reign;
[...]ut I protest 'tis not with you;
Pardon me, Sir, J tell you plain,
Tis with
Diana's Maiden train.
3.
ANd though J lend an eare
When you present your Ditty,
Presume not J affect your geare,
Or you, that would seem witty;
Good faith tis not in love, but pitty.
4.
HEnce then poor flatterers,
J am, and will be free:
Like those Celestiall Choristers,
Ile hugg my liberty;
Tis that, and only that please me.
Phyllis Funerall.
COme now my Lambs your selves address
Unto your dying Shepheardess.
Your appetites a while adjourn,
And pay your duty to
[...]y Urne.
In life my flock J follow'd thee,
In death J prethee follow me.
Come therefore twenty Lambs in black,
In white twice twenty at their back.
[Page 7] Twelve sable Ewes like Widows poore
Shall as my mourners go before
Six Weathers shall my bearours be
Arraid in
Negro's Liverie,
As dark as night, and six againe,
As white as wooll support my train:
With silver tipps let every horne.
Our sad and sol
[...]mne state adorne,
Crescent as Phaebes, let each front,
VVear a fresh Cypress wreath upon't
Let no rude ruslet here be seen,
Nor bloody redd; But flourishing green,
Lamb black, and purest white, These three,
Summe up my perfect Elegie,
The black (my Lambs) doth signifie
My losse of life: your losse of mee.
The white does unto you relate
My innocence: and Virgin state,
The green does to the world proclaime
My life in my immortall fame.
Now let mee shew yee my intent
In my last Will and Testament.
First I this better part of mine
To the Elizian shades resigne
And whence I had it, I bequeath
To the next aire my borrow'd breath
Fire shall again have what it lent,
And water to her Element,
Shall have recourse. All shall returne,
My ashes also to my Urne:
In the next place I here dispence
Unto my Lambs my innocence.
Moreover I assigne to them
The grass green Meadow last nights dream
Presented mee, My Ramms are they
Shall have my
Cornucopia.
Unto the Bud as yet u
[...] blown,
My Purple Veynes resign to you
Sweet Violets their azure hue.
M
[...] blushes to the Rose I give
My white shall in the Lilly
[...]ve;
My golden Trelles shall rep
[...]ire
The ruines of lost Maiden hair.
My Globes of light after this li
[...]e
Shall wait on
Phoebus and his wife.
My lof
[...]y my Majestick front
I leave to
I
[...] das sublime Mont.
The Cherry, or the Ruby rather
The eincture from my lips shall gather.
This breast opposing th' other, puts
Me so in mind of
Cupids Buts.
I cannot but to him demise
The place so fit for exercise.
Lastly (such as they wont receive)
Mine armes I to
[...]mbraces leave:
And now yee know what my last will is,
Farewell my Flock, say farewell
Phillis.
‘Pl
[...]no singultibus ore.’
A young Gentleman to his Lady, who lookt upon him as too immature.
I Love you, should I not do so,
I were an Anchorit
[...] and my Breast like Snow:
[Page 9] Yes I do love, and humbly here commence
Affection ushererd in with Reverence.
Deigne but your-lilly hand, No bold desire
Shall wing up my ambition any higher.
Nay if that be too much, let me descry
My rudeness chastiz'd in your scornfull eye.
I must confess these early years of mine
May look on, but not love Women nor Wine:
Not love sayd I? who can but love a face
So winning unless of
Deucalions race?
Yet while I love and in my breast enshrine yee
It don't to pitty, but contempt incline yee.
Nature will lend my lip a cloak, And than
I may profess, I want not zeal, though man:
My statures small, And
Cu
[...]id cannot find
Me yet; Shrubs loose th' advantage of the wind:
Yet should I love thus young, I
[...]ight produce
Such presidents would warrant my excuse;
And yours too,
Sapho sum'd up all her joy
In the embrace of a Cicilian boy
The Queen of
Greec
[...] lov'd
Theseus but a Lad,
And
Cytharea her
Adonis had.
Nay, Love himself that God, is but a Child,
Shall I then be for want of years exil'd?
Yea I have heard fair Damsels say, In truth
Of all that love, give me the smooth-chin'd Youth.
True I am young, and thence I dare approve
My non-acquaintance with the slights of love.
You are that woundld me the first and all:
Blame me not then that come at the fi
[...]st
[...]all.
To Amabunda.
BUt dost beleive in fai
[...]h that I
Lov'd thee? faith
[...] liye.
Ere it becomes unruly fire,
For thy flames work but the same way
With mee as the hot Sun on clay.
No thou must take thy heeles, and flee,
If thou wouldst have mee follow thee.
‘—Fugis insequor.’
To Suavia.
NOt love you, whom the world confess
The miracle of prettinesse?
That were an humour to disguise
My reason, and betray my Eyes:
Noe, noe, without dissimulation
Your beauty is too strong temptation
Had I not found you the rare shee,
Y'had liv'd unlov'd, unmov'd by mee;
I cannot court a common face,
Enricht with only one poor grace,
A forehead handsome, smooth, and high
A lovely Lip, or Chin, or Eye:
But pardon
Suavia if I Love
You, In whom all these graces move
Deigne then one gentle smile on mee,
Who will your constant
Vmbra be,
So long as either I have eyes,
Or you have wherewith to surprize.
Choose Madam then which you think best,
Either hard favour: or soft breast.
‘Aut sacien mutes, aut ne sis dura nec
[...]e est.’
An Answer to the Song call'd faire Archybella to whose eyes. &c.
ARchybella's Eyes
Though nere so faire shall not despise
But owne thy loyall sacrifice.
2.
Suppose her cruell, And a while
Hir frownes like midnight, day exile
Tis noon again, if you but smile.
3.
Wee like our lodging and protest
So you provide a faithfull breast
To vow our self your constant guest.
4.
Nor need you feare since you impart,
Your wounds so fresh, but we have art
And Balsam too, to ease your smart.
5.
Let not a thought that death may give
Molest thee, doubt not thou to live,
If smiles or teares may but reprive.
6.
Dread not my deare so dire a doome
Forbid it heaven the hower should come,
That thou shouldst suffer Martyrdome.
The Answer to Well-well tis true, &c.
1.
WEll, well tis true, That I have lov'd a fool and it is you:
But since I plainly see
Whilst I in pitty lend a smile,
You make me conscious all the while
Of your Idolatry.
I'le henceforth squib your Wildsire flames and scorne
The adoration of an Ass
So foolishly forlorne.
2.
Come, come be wise and dally not with Ladies (charmfull eyes,
The Magazine from whence
Love armes himself, the Stars I say
Are bright and powerfull too, but they
Have no such influence.
We set us down in
Titans glittering shine,
Reciprocating beame, for beam
Where Stars their heads decline,
3.
Whilst yee like fools to de
[...]fie us pump and dreine your Schools
For an Hyperbody:
Presuming that yee highly please
Our Sex to stile us Godde
[...]es,
Alas we know yee lye
VVe are but flesh and blood though our bright eyes
Surprising your infaruate sense
Yee deem us Deit
[...]es▪
[Page 13] BUt since that Fate has drawn me to the trouble of thy prate
Il'e not my
[...]abour loose
For Il'e make use of thine own plot
To let thee know I love thee not.
Well, or ill take it, choose,
And therefore Ile go get me a new bar,
To rid my Chamber of such Apes
Such Toyes as Sutors are,
5.
GO love your wine, and all your Muses, nine and nine times nine
So you will not love me
For me I love my Dog, my Cat
Nay I would love I care not what
So it may not be thee
Love you your laughing and your quaffing Crew
I love my Country and my King
But hate such fools as you.
The Virgin Canticle to Gerrard.
1.
AVant yee false Intruders that my Chamber hant
Good faith I can't
No nor J will not listen to your love
No more will J though you would give me all your store
Unbolt my door
You do but rocks and senseless marble move
For well, yea too too well J can your perjur'd story tell
There's no faith rests
In mens false breasts:
Therefore farewell, farewell.
2.
Tis true, I was so foolish once as to Love you,
But now Irue
I ever yeilded unto such an ague.
But yet, I de have you know my friend though
I did get
One burning fit
I had another cold enough to plague you.
For I who was all fire, am now congeald into all ice
VVhence you may find,
Though I was kinde.
I can be merry and wise.
3.
The willow thou thinkst torments me but alas poor fellow
Ask but my Pillow
If it can witness ere a sigh I fetcht.
Or that on my bed-side as in a dreame I sate,
Moaning my fate,
Or out of melancholly my self streacht.
[...]le warrant thee my boy thou't find all circumstances prove
That maidens too
As well as you
Can with discretion love
4.
And now I do intend to run through Lovers row
As well as you
And tast the sweetnesse of variety.
For I suppose there's some sweet sweet in it or yee
VVould never be
So much addicted to inconstancie.
[Page 15] Therefore Ile set and see the messes usher
[...] in by scores
And tast of this
And that fine dish
To the hundred and fiftith course.
5.
In vaine thou temptst mee
Paris what, wouldst thou be faine
Forsworn againe
Alas I valew not thy threadbare Oathes.
Goe finde some other tame foole for I have no minde
T' embrace the wind
No, nor those vowes thou pu
[...]st of with thy cloaths
If yet thoudst have me, love thee then I prethee (nere come to mee
For I protest
I love thee best
When thou art furthest from mee
The Choice.
TIs not thy rubie Lips; nor Rosie Cheeks,
In which my heart a full contentment seekes
Tis not the treasure of thy golden tresses,
Tha
[...] makes me rich, or challenge my Caresses
Nor yet thy light-dispersing eyes though they,
Be the true Phosphors of the breaking day,
Should I serve beauties obvious to the eye
Pigmaleons statue then would see the vye.
And I might well (if I should cease to range,)
Advantage my aff
[...]ction at the change.
But I have suited at a nobler rate,
Then to court paint; Beauties inanin
[...]ate,
[Page 16] In summe there's nothing out-sides can impart,
Hath power to make a conquest on my heart.
But
[...] love you, whose beauty still I find
But
index to the beauty of your mind.
You are the Pearl that highest value win,
Being faire without, and cordiall within.
To my Coy and Captious Mistress.
ILe court my shade no more, but flee
From it, and make it follow me:
Nor shall the lo
[...]ty Cedar bough
To the base Bramble, tis too low.
Ile kneel no more t' ungrateful Thistles,
Nor listen to each Bird that whistles:
I have fo
[...] got you, and to day
I did make Ortes of better Hay.
I lov'd thee once, but now my scorne
Shall triumph over thee forlorne:
Ile wrap my front up in disdain,
Nor shalt thou it uncloud again,
No, though one careless smile would save
Thy cast-of carkass from the grave:
Thy tears, and prayers and looking wan
VVere but to wash an
Indian.
N
[...]y, w
[...]rt thou fair as thou art not,
Thou shouldst not move my breast one jot:
Nor would I love thee one half hour,
Though both the
Indies were thy Dower:
Though all the Saints should bless thy face,
Thou get'st not henceforth one embrace:
I hate thine eyes, and rather would
A
Basilisk should me behold.
To Pulcheria.
BUt tell me will not Gold move thee?
Art thou mo
[...]e hard than
Danae?
VVha
[...]? will these pecrless Pearls, these Gems,
These Rubies reacht from Diadenis,
Advance me no step to thy love?
Ile try if triviall toyes m
[...]y move.
'T may be this Lilly or that Rose
VVin her acceptance more then those.
Yes much at one, alas I should
But tempt an
Indian with my Gold:
Her locks are the true golden Fl
[...]ec,
Medea shew'd her love in
Greece;
And what from Rubies hope I? tush
Her lips will make the Ruby blush:
VVhich if a smile should chance to sever,
You strait shall see such Pearls as never
Nature yet boasted, as if she
Had only this one Treasurie.
And as for Gems, what sparks can flie
So bright as those shot from her eye?
Lillies alas avail not much,
Her body is all over such:
And what's a Rose? since her Cheeks bea
[...]
A
Iuue of Roses all the year.
LOVE Blind or not blind.
1.
WHat makes you think that Love is blind
Since he dwels in the eye:
In all my scrutinie.
For I in love had never been
Had not mine eyes the object seen.
2.
And all the world in this agree
Love is a flaming fire
If then a fire, nay flame it be
What need we more desire,
To prove that Love may have his sight,
From that which renders all things light.
3.
Tell mee not that
Obfusca was
Born blind, yet lov'd on trust,
Admit the fable; yet alas
It was not love, but lust.
For shee must have it understood,
Though nothing else, hir feeling's good.
4.
But you will say where stood his eyes
That chose so course a wench.
As Bab since men meet such a prize
On every common bench:
This will be his retort againe,
What's, one mans meat's an others bane.
5.
Here's one a horse face courts whose weight
Hee knows will come in Gold.
Let her be crooked, old
Splay-foot, blind, beetlebrowd, and lame,
For he ha's that for which he came,
6.
Turne but your eye and you shall see
Anothers finger itch,
To be embracing such a shee
Is neither faire nor rich.
Ask but his reason and tis this
My minde to me a Kingdom is,
7.
Thus one loves fat an other leane,
This his meat salt, that fresh
This a fat Capon, that a Hen
This man loves fish, that flesh.
Thus all their humours have, and now
Heres the good woman kist he
[...] Cow.
8.
Who beares the fault now but the boy
The wanton boy forsooth
He wish old women use to toy,
And teach them tricks of youth,
Thus from our selves we still remove
Our dotage to the god of Love.
9.
Whom falsely fools call progeny
Of
Vulcan god of fire,
Prodromus to his Sire
For out of doubt he LOVE did know,
Ere he came into Cuckholds row.
10.
THen let not hollow'd Love bear blame
For humane fantasy:
Love is a pure celestiall flame
Heaven and Earths Mercury,
Diffus'd on Mortals, let us hence
Accuse the Organ, not the influenc
[...],
11.
CAn any yet be so unwise
To think Love blind that can
Create an
Argus hundred eyes,
To guard a Curtesan,
VVhom if you see you may espye.
Enthron'd in every sparkling eye.
12.
PRay which of you can shoot so right,
As he whom yee call blind;
He sticks his Arrows in the white
Sure then he eyes must find,
Should you a Dart at any throw,
Twere but the blind man hit the Crow.
13.
Yea are surpriz'd with each fair face
VVith every dimpled Chin,
[Page 21] This comly feature, that sweet grace
Are snares to trap yee in:
VVhat think yee then, not love, I wiss
But yee, are
capti oculis.
A longing Lady to her long-staying Lover.
TVVice twenty times hath
Titan run his course
From th' orientall, to the VVestern sourse:
Since last I saw you can one parting kiss
Sustain me such an age of night as this:
How I am
rackt in thy unkind delay?
Come my sweet
Phosphor, come and bring the day▪
Sorrow and solitude in this small space
Have figur'd age on my Hermetick face.
Go happy Paper be my Mercury,
And having kist his hand bring it to me.
That I may be thy Rivall; tell him I
Must see him soon, or in despair I dye.
And if he come not; I shall plainly see
He's out of town, or out of love with me.
A forsaken Lady to her Apostate.
BUt are those flashes fled? those flames quite gon
Into the ashes of oblivio
[...]?
VVhere are those Vows, these Heaven-attested oaths,
Seal'd on my lips the pledges of our troaths?
What all amort, all banisht in a trice,
All our embraces a fools Paradice?
Then farewell saith, and friend, next time I find
My self affective He embrace the wind.
A mock song to O stay by mee—
STay not by me feinds! but fly mee,
For behold I come
All in furie, to conjure yee,
To avoid the roome,
O come not then near mee: your haggy looks skear mee
But down to your cursed cell,
for in hell;
All such sooty sluts dwell.
2.
Out yee Devills, worst of evills,
What do you make here?
Such dam'd witches, and base bitches:
I nere saw as yee're.
O come not then near me your haggy looks skare me
But down to your cursed cell
for in hell
All such sooty sluts dwell.
3.
Pluto's pusses are the susses
That I here behold
Drest in tiffanie like Tysiphone,
Snaky lockt and old.
O come not then neare mee, your haggy looks skar mee
But down to your cursed cell
For in hell,
All such sooty sluts dwell.
4.
Furies fellowes what is hell loose
And yee broke out thus
In your night-gears like the night mares
To meet
Incubus.
O come not then near mee, your haggy looks skear me
But down to your cursed cell
for in hell
All such sooty sluts dwell.
5.
Out upon yee, Ile none on yee
Down yee dam'd beneath
Your ill favours and worse savours
Doe infect my breath,
O come not then near mee, your haggy looks skeare mee
But down to your cursed cell for in hell,
All such sooty sluts dwell.
The Furies Answer.
BE content Sir, we are sent Sir
Not to trouble you,
But to sport with and consort with
Our own cuttaild crew.
Let nothing then skear you, for weel I not come near you
But down to our own black cell, for in hell,
VVe confesse wee do dwell.
‘Iam jam tacturas, tartara nigra putes.’
A Gentleman to his Mistress that told him he lookt asqnint upon her.
ASquint, why no
[...]? am I of Eagles race,
To try mine eyes upon
Apollo's face:
Admit I were, yet while I look on thee,
Thy brighter beams force an obliquity.
Eagles should do the same, durst they but try
Their Birth right at the radiance of thine eye.
VVhat is this squinting but my feeble sight,
Reverberated by thy powerfull light?
Nay should mine eye right on to thine aspire,
'Twould burning-Glass-like set mine heart on fire.
But say I could, since thou thus sl
[...]ghtest me,
VVhat reason have I to look right on thee?
Come be not you so cross grain'd to despise
A breast that shews her crosses in her eyes;
VVhich silently each other thus reprove,
T' have let in cruell and ingrateful love:
So passing fair, I swear upon a book
You are, my eyes upon each other look
As in a maze to see Dame Nature place
All her perfection in your only face.
As Clouds the Creatures of the Sun, so I
The nubilous exhalation of your eye
Approach your presence begging I may be
The
Vmb
[...]a unto your serenity.
And could I but my self in the office put,
As
Caltha with your beams Id'e ope, and shut.
The Flies are buzzing where light Candles are,
And smoak you know alwaies pursues the fair.
Daies d' enterchange Embraces with the night,
And darkness, kiss the lovely lips of light.
[Page 25] Why then, thou fairest, art thou so unkind,
To scoffe the mole thy beauty made thus blind?
But am I blinde dost say; Even thence does flow,
This solace, that the God of love is so.
And squint-eyd, then I may glorie int.
The sun it selfe, lights centre looks asquint.
To Franke.
What all at once? what nowne selfe
Franke?
Thy bounty over beares its banck.
▪ Thad bene a favour yet beyond,
My wishes, hadst thou given thy bond,
And seal'd it with a faithfull kisse,
O here had bene enough of blisse.
Or hadst thou given thy hand in part
As pledg of thy engaged heart;
I had bene more then well content
T' have fed my hopes, on the event.
But I am now as others are,
Suspitious of thy prester'd ware.
Thou art too sweet, to tell thee right
Thou overcom'st my appetite.
Hony's not for all pallats meet,
Aud sugar oft makes things too sweet.
Trust mee fond
Franck, thou art too free
(Free of thy flesh I mean) for mee.
Thou comst too fast, I must step back.
Aud to be short, I feare mee no man,
Dares venter to make thee a woman.
In markets maides are common, I
Can have a score for a bulls eye▪
[Page 26] You praise your selfe, and I could wish
But to see her cryes stinking fish;
I know not what to think, thy face
Hath such an ol
[...]o of brasse;
And yet thou shouldest be right, for none
That I ere knew, lesse feare the stone,
On whom be this inscription set;
Here is both right, and Counterfeit.
But thou say'st tis no vsuall Course,
To looke ith mouth of a guift horse.
Yet not mans' bounty shall perswade
Mee too accept or keepe a jade,
Ill favourd &, ill quality'd;
Who would on such Conditions ride?
Thou hast given thy selfe to mee, dost hear
Thou hast a shrewd box on the eare
Would thou hadst rather given mee that
Was left ith maltheap by the Car.
Thou shouldst have said, will you accept,
Or else they selfe to thy selfe kept.
Theres somewhat more then up and ride,
The banes must goe before the bride
And after too, vnlesse shee bee
Better then I can hope of thee
Thou fly'st away to Church & nether
Bringst guest with thee nor yet a father.
But for the first (sauing your jeast)
You will your selfe be the bold guest.
And for a father, what need hee,
Since you will your owne giver be.
Way this is the new way we take,
Each others word & bargaine make.
Sure here is like to be good doeing
When rampant royles run thus a wo
[...]oi
[...]g,
VVhy now or never verifie.
Yet thou mayest get a husband still,
Provided thou dost but fullfill.
The last will of thy grand mother,
No more but foe; Remember her:
For my part, mee thou couldst not please,
Though thou couldst sh—mee ninepences.
Nor couldst thou move in mee delight,
Shouldst thou afford mee every night
A fresh & sportfull maidenhead
Their signes should not pollute my bed,
And yet I may chance loath my life
Come then and thou shalr bee my wife.
However for your offer
Frankey
I were to blame should I not thank yee,
But let mee perish in thy Curse
If ever offer lik't mee worse.
Thou gav'st thy selfe to mee; and
Give thee back to thy self Godbye
‘Te mihi donasti, te tibi reddo, vale.’
An Epithal. On. Mr. B. C. his Nuptialls.
1.
WElcome most lovely paire,
Through threats of drowning
In parents frowning;
Now no doubts nor despaire
Shall cloud the clearer aire
Of nuptiall crowning
No counter-plots, no rivalls now suspect,,
Your wishes are ariv'd at their effect.
4.
No woefull Willow now,
Cupid composes,
Chaplets of Roses:
In which the Bridgroomes brow
And his faire Brides also,
Hymen encloses,
Let Suiters in desires hot embers burne,
Your joyfull fyres shall into Bone-fires turne.
3.
On thy cheeks beauteous Bride,
More all the graces
In pleasant paces
Blest hee whom fares betide
Th' Elysium of thy side.
This, this, thy lass is
Sweet Bride-groom, but had Love had eyes to see her:
No doubt but hee had been thy rivall here.
4.
Sing
Io, sing a-maine
Thy tempting treasure,
Out bounds all measure,
Give thy ripe joyes full reine,
And
Io. sing againe,
Victorious
Caesar
Beware of surfets though, thy lustie cheare.
Ends not to night, the faire lasts all the yeare
4.
But you think long I doubt,
And loves complection,
Prepares erection,
What though yee taste of nought,
All day, but naked thought:
Night's the next section:
Then you shall act, what wee but dream, deligh
[...],
Weed wish yee too (if there were need) good night.
9
Com
Bacchus com let's troule
The merrie dishes
Brimd with best wishes.
Mee thinks I see the soule,
Of mirth in every bowle
Pres
[...]ging blisses.
Your crop's full ear'd, full ripe, your eye discernes
Plentie; what can wee wish yoe more but bearnes
To my lillie white Leda in Commendation of a pale face.
When red enchased in the skies wee finde.
VVee strait conclude tis either raine, or winde.
VVhen I a Rubrick on thy face espie,
Faith I expect to see thee storme, or cry.
Let them that dare condemne thy I very brow
Tell mee how they could fancy bloud & snow.
That monstrous, yea that menstiuous product, who
Could looke vpon't and not his teares ovr flow?
Pray tell mee where the white, & damask rose'
From the sam stalk both white, & red disclose?
Spaniells and Calves are red and white tis true
If you be red and white, pray what are you?
VVould you commend her for her comly snout
Thats particolourd like a radish root?
You'd think I mock you should I say you are
Pure red & white as babies in the faire.
[Page 31] If red be such a grace; If red so please
Haue mee commended to red latices.
Yet the red rose is Cordiall. But the white
Is ever most commended for the sight.
From costard-mongers I haue understood
Thus much? The red cheecht apple's seldom good.
Red waxe is very common, But the white
Is virgins wax, And a good price must buy't,
Pray tell mee now, would you be woo'd & prayd;
To limb your felt out on a milke white n aid?
Marry com up; so when you are to write,
You may condemne your paper cause tis white:
Here, heres an Elizabeth, will you say what aile
The shillings cause you see the face is pale?
That were a prety jeast, Alas, alas,
If it were cherry checht it would not passe.
Even Vitriall admitts a various hue
Some is pure white, some greene, some perfect blew,
And some is red too, But tis then consest
The drosse &
Ca
[...]ut mortuum of the rest
In
Mercurie as
Ch
[...]nick tearmes will ha't,
The white's sublime, The red precipitate.
Some Tulips▪ I remember I have seene,
Halfe red half white, but thy have common been.
Or were they ra
[...]e should they come near my nose
The posie were lesse wellcome, then the pose.
White Robes at Nuptialls, shew a virgine state,
A
[...]d why not white checks beautyes candidate.
What wouldst thou think▪ if thou sho
[...]lds red espie
Exchequor'd with the white thats in thine eye?
Thoudst say 'tis bloud-shot, How then ist a grace
That blemishes the best part of thy face?
But why doe I thus eagerly allude
To that which all but blind men will conclude?
[Page 32] The s
[...]lver Moon, the glittering train of night,
The
[...], Swan, and
Venus Doves are white,
But yo
[...] say Reds a modest tincture, tush,
Her conscience can not bid her count'nance blush
VV
[...]en shee hath done the thing shee ought nor doe:
Come to hir the
[...] sheel blush as red as you.
‘—Rubicunda flat, Alba serenat.’
The Postscript, To the precedent Poem.
BUt stay
[...]y whiteing, though I took thy part,
'Twas not to shew thy beau
[...]y, but my art.
My conscience tell
[...] mee Red & white best pleases,
VVhite not set off with Red portends diseases:
But Poets
pro, and
con, salute and slight:
Tell yee the Dove is black, And the Crow white,
I could have writ as much, and given a grace
As ample, to the Calfe with the white face.
Thus have I made thee faire and fowle; so truely
Sta
[...]h be it nere so white, comes of but blewly.
‘P. atque P.’
To M
r. R. D.
YOur safe returne unto mine eares being come
I could no less then bid you welcome home.
At present I have nothing worth your view,
Only my white fac'd
Leda, but shee's new
Aud fresh attir'd, If I have drest hir right:
Say but the word, And I have hit the White:
Militat omnis amans, & habet sua Castra Cupîdo.
LOVE hath his tents & lovers souldiers are
Prest out to serve in an intestine VVarr,
Cupid become a Leader now I finde,
The proverb, verified, The blind leads the blinde.
‘—Caeco carpitur Igne▪’
To my honoured friend. A Gentleman that in a frollick would needs barb mee.
1.
But
BEN
Let me know when
Thou wilt returne age
[...]n:
Oh thy departure drew a teare,
Not from the watrie surface of the spheare
No, no it drew it, whist, stay there
Least while such newes I send,
I much offend,
My friend,
2.
Indeed
Since twas decreed
Thou shouldst depart with speed
I could not choose, but heavily look
To loose at once my barber, and my Cook:
I will be sworn upon a booke
I oft thee wanted have
My chin to shave,
Poore knave.
3.
And clip
My upper lippe
And make the haires to skip
For having mended my bad face
Thou good Lawn Bands about
[...]y neck didst place.
And cuft my hands, but now alas
I shall, I am ith mind
No Barber finde
so kinde.
To William Kemp.
SAturday last faith
Will you sent mee Sack
By
Bacchus scarce was worth the sending back
Be now a trusty foule, and, send me White.
Or Renish, which you will but let't be right
Feel out some cell where
Phoebus cannot come
I know
Will will send good if VVill b'at home
A Gentleman surprized with the sight of a Lady unknowne to him, betroathed to another.
UNhappy happinesse, peircing, pleasing sate
By too good fortune made infortunate,
My blest, and blasted eyes made mee at once
My self an Emp
[...]rour, and a
[...] pronounce▪
[Page 36] What strange affections on my spirit ceaze?
Whereof the cure is worse then disease.
VVhat heavenly fire is this, torments & joyes mee
VVhich if I blow consumes; if quench destroyes mee?
Take here O take this love-slaine heart of mine
This victim fallne on your victorious shrine,
Only let love since to your pile I come
Honour my sacrifice with martyrdome.
And tis enough, Since I cant overcome yee.
He kille the stroakes my fates allot mee from yee
Yet on my urne should you one glance contrive
My ashes with the
Phenix might revive,
If not a smile, O yet let pitty lend mee
A sigh, that may to the next world commend mee
Where my then happier eyes may have, the grace
Freely to feast on your Seraphick face.
To my Cozen Coy.
1.
This not for vertues sake that you,
Are wont to keepe so much adoe,
For wee know by experience,
And you by your owne conscience.
That wenches will for all their sturres,
Cling in a corner close as burres.
2.
Those things most take men's palares
[...]ver,
They purchasse fle with most hard endeavor.
[Page 37] And thats the reason that yee maids,
Hold up the rate of maiden-heads.
VVhich if you were not coy and nice
A lack a day! would beare no price.
3.
Pray doe not yee your faces skreen,
To be with double lusser seen.
VVhat is it but to tempt beholders,
Yee show your naked neck, and, shoulders.
VVhy doe you else pach white with black?
But that yee more oth same stuffe lacke?
4.
Cold-rounded sires, themselves contract,
And are most violent in act.
And I conceive fair maids desires,
Are but such snow-environ'd sires.
And when I see snow on their skin
I judge them then all fyre within.
5.
Tell mee who will do so mickle
'As shee that hants a conventickle.
Shee is one of
Adams race.
That observes no tyme nor place.
Though in the midst of lent it chance,
Sheel take it, if the flesh advance.
6.
And you your self
Abstemia
Will sport and play as well as they,
I know you loyter but to be
Embrac'd by opportunity
And in things forbid delight
To show your selfe
Eves Daughter right.
7.
Tell mee no more of Apes in hell
Though th' excuse become yee well;
Come prettie soule tis to no boot
You cannot live unlesse you doe't:
For the thing that we talk of pleased
Nay more then that prevents diseases.
8.
Were't not more wisdome to be dumb,
Then word it to be overcome?
Do'nt wee in common queans espie
These your weapons, nay pish, nay fye,
That ere halfe the fight be done
VVish that they may be over run.
9.
Come come Girle if thou dost burne
[...]ee thou bauk'st not a good turne,
That know when they are offer'd faire
Yet if shame bid thee forsake it
Prethee play the maid, say nay and take it,
To my pale Pippin Pallor in ore sedet—
HEr checks are like her blind checks pale
And wan, Her lipps are lick her taile,
Her piteous looks may happily move
Compassion in mee; never love.
Shall I bow down; or kneel to that
That seems to mee in animate?
So while I to my suite addict her,
I pray with Papists to a Picture,
Doe yee not see how meager death,
Seems through hir Organs to steal bteath
And
Succubus ha's from the dust
Rear'd her to satiate his lust
Tell m
[...]e pale
Phebe dont you climbe
Old walls to banquet on the lime?
I know you love such festivalls
Your white-washt checks resemble walls.
Say mother pitous, doe you not
For Oatmeal? rob the Porrige-pot
Run you not into privet holes
To break your fast with salt and Coales
I might a thousand knacks repeat,
VVhat could I name but you would cat
In sh
[...]me whereof you blou
[...] re
[...]ines
Your checks, And lurks within your veines,
By your flagitious conscience.
Nor are you lillie like, but sallow▪
And sapie-coutenanc'd like tallow:
For when your dropping nose you handle,
You seeme to mee to snuffe a candle.
And they that keepe you reape disgrace,
Whilst men read samine on your face.
Natures, besiegd, And all your pores
Obstructed block up her recourse
Whilst in dispaire of life you burne,
For a good husband, or goode turne..
There must bee vent, Tis to noe boot
To talke, you must or dye, or doet.
And should, wee but a while delay you,
You'd cry harke harke for life wee pray you.
You can no such improvement feel
In
allume possets or crude steele.
You know your selfe theres nothing can,
Be so aperitive as man.
Who in the sweetest sence is said,
To cure you of your maiden head.
Which should you but a while retaine,
A pessarie would come in vaine.
What neede men care then for such wives,
As Marry but to save their lives?
He must as much (that weddeth thee)
Thy doctor; As thy husband be.
Noe, Ile to
Bacchus where being come,
The first attendant shewes a rome.
The next prersents a glanceing lasse,
Like
Venus in a venice glasse.
With that I knock, & as some spirite
I conjur up pur red and white.
My circles a round table. And
In midst thereof does Hymen stand
To celebrate my nuptiall.
Here doe I a french madam place
And there a sweet-
[...]ipt spanish lasse
Here all in white a lady dances.
And there in red an other glances.
And least mine eyes want fresh delight,
Here sets Claretta red & whit.
Nor doe I complement I
[...]row,
But tell them plaine 'tis so and so,
Thy struggle not nor are they coy
But I may what I will enjoy.
No there's no coyle made for a kisse,
Though melting melting, melting blisse.
No shifting from the freindly cup
But I may freely all take up.
And in each face if I so please,
I le court myne owne
[...]ffigies.
VVho would not then on this stage act Narci
[...]us,
VVhere lively lipps so sweetly say come kisse us?
Mrs. E. G. To hir false and faithlesse servant.
BVt whence false wretch are these delayes,
Didst thou not sweare,
By all that's deare.
Should lyons block up thy assayes,
Thy Pinnace scorn'd such remoraes.
2.
Most faithlesse of thy sex farewel:
Art not thou hee
That vow'd to mee
No fates decree not
Circian spell,
Should keep thee from my Cittadell?
3.
Yet flatterer thou art fleg'd, and flown
From the warm nest
Of my soft breast,
And like that night thou left's mee gone
Ah! who would such a traytor owne?
4.
They that dare most, I see dare least
Peter pretends
More then his friends,
But being brought unto the test,
Hee turnes more cravant then the rest.
5.
A feeble hermit raz'd the fort
Of secresie
Twixt thee and mee,
O shame, Cowards I see resort
To
Lov's, though not to
Mars his Court.
6.
Thinkst thou the gods that testifie
From Heaven above
Thy vowes of love,
Will quit thee of thy perjury?
That were, to make themselves like thee.
7.
Well I conclude then nothing else
But love is dead
And faith is fled,
Unto the breasts of in fidells
And there, if any where it dwells.
8.
False and faint heart adieu, nere sue
Nor wooe no more,
As here to fore,
For here is all Ile answer you,
False and faint heart adieu adieu.
‘— Piget infido consuluisse viro.’
His Answer▪
ANd why so sharp? in truth (my dear) I must,
Accuse your furie of unkind distrust.
You should observe the end, and only glance,
Not dwell on the emergent circumstance.
Shall I plounge through th' abisse of danger, when
I may avoyd it; And goe right agen.
VVhat you mis-construe as some light abuse,
Reason will read a requisite excuse.
VVhat should wee but invite the publicke scorne,
To boast our harvest ere wee reap our corne.
The wealthy'st wights petend the weakest store,
And what they hugge, conceale, I doe no more.
For knowledge will but make us table-talke,
VVhilst love delights in shadyest pathes to-walk.
Forbeare a while my love and then expect
Your patience crown'd with blest, with wisht effect.
Those that doe otherwise, the world but calls,
Them Posthumous to there owne nuptialls,
Noe, noe, my heart's but one, though for a space,
I seeme to putt on Ianus double face,
In which strange dresse I yet, would hope I show
I love thee more then all the world shall know.
To the faire Mrs E. R.
Y'are lovely faire, and but I know,
You are not proud, I would not tell you so.
For my part I commend your sweet complexion.
Nither for hope of favour, nor affection.
Only since I have litle else to doe,
I prayse the most prayse worthy, And tis you:
Here's no hard words but in plaine english thus,
Y'eare handsme, yonge, rich, vertuous.
VVhat can be wisht for more? where nature places
A heaven of beauty in a he
[...]ven of graces.
But if you be as free as you are faire
All's nothing, and you are not what you are.
Da dextram miserae & tecum me tolle per vndas.
Phillis, Charon.
Ph.
A Boat, a Boat
Charom, come set me over,
Ch.
VVho calls hells fatall ferriman?
Ph.
A Lover.
Ch.
And thou shalt stay the longer for't I vow,
Ph.
Youle not be so unmercifull I
[...]row.
Ch.
Left handed luck light on yee every houre
I me troubl'd to transport such brands as you are.
Ph.
[Page 47]
Ney good sweet
Charon, com
[...]
Ch.
Yes sweeton still,
VVhen I have nothing else to do, I will.
Ph.
VVhat?
Ch.
Grease my Boat, and patch my shattered sailes
And set me down and rest mee;
Ph.
Iove what ayle'
This froward patch? come prethee to the stath
I am a stranger, come put off thy wrath.
Ch.
Hence Cupids brands,
Ph.
Not so.
Ch.
Ile come no nigher:
Ph.
VVhy?
Ch.
For youl set my pitchy Boat on fire,
I fry already with transporting flames
Such as have almost drank up al my streams
Ph.
Canst thou feare that and see these fresh supplies.
So streaming from the Conduits of mine
Eyes?
Ch.
VVell well,
Ph.
Nay more if
Charon shall think good
These Armes as Oares shall wave the stigian flood,
This wast thy Mast: And this dishevell'd haire,
Ile into Cables twist;
Ch.
VVell you speak faire.
Ph.
Come then;
Ch.
I am at hand, but ere thy foot Boord mee,
How cam
[...]st thou here timely or not?
Ph.
VVhat makes that to my speed? Come waft me over,
And talke of that anon.
Ch.
[Page 48]
Nay soft, discover
Or thou art at thy furthest; Trust no tri
Nor falsities, But sweare by sacred
Stix,
VVhich even the gods call not to lyes,
VVithout the forfeit of their deityes,
And loss of
Nectar for a hundred years.
Speak,
Phs VVhat is
Phillis faultie here appeares.
Ch.
Thou canst not pass.
Ph.
The gods forbid O smother
That breath, This death is worse then th'other;
I past last night, That I implunged in
For love, and must I dye again for sin?
Is it decreed?
Ch.
It is, and signed by fate.
Ph.
Ile supplicate the Gods then.
Ch.
Tis too late.
Ph.
Hard hap, but sawst thou not my
Demophon
Ch.
I did.
Ph.
VVhere;
Ch.
Hee is to Elysium gone.
Ph.
And I left here O
Charon prethee either
VVast mee to him, or fetch him hither.
Ch.
Neither?
Ph.
Shall he live happy?
Ch.
Yes.
Ph.
Then let me come
For hee knowes I am his Elysium.
Ch.
Thou canst not wretch:
Ph.
Noe? whether shall I then
Betake my selfe?
Ch.
To yond fowle foggy fen,
Ph.
And what when there?
Ch.
Still tide it to and fro,
[Page 48] In deep despaire as those self murtherers doe,
Seest thou these Troops like Autu
[...]n
[...]s leavy spoile,
VVhat self bemoaning, what u
[...]pittied coyle
They keep? But I sterne
Charo
[...]t have no eares
To heare their plaints; no eyes to see their teares.
Ph.
Have I contemned life, neglected Thrace
And my imperiall scepter for this place?
Ch.
Blame thine own Rathnes to anticipate,
The supreame act of Adamantine fate,
Ph.
Has thou no pitty lest for Queens.
Ch.
No, now
The basest beggar is as great as thou.
Ph.
O give me yet a draft of Lethe, that
I may forget the tyranny of fate.
Ca.
It cannot be allow'd alas thy woes
Begin but now
Ph.
VVhen end they then?
Ch.
God knowes.
Ph.
Pitty sweet
Charon, pitty for his sake,
VVhose innocence must of my greifs pertake
For hee and I long since agreed upon
This, Hee should
Phillis be, I
Demop
[...]on
Our faithfull lipps were pledges of this twine
Hee giving his heart, I returning mine.
Tis I have sin'd, And must hee beare the blow.
Tis not my heart, but his that suffers now,
O either yeild then to my just desire,
Or let mee suffer in my selfe entire,
But if't may be, Celestiall pitty move,
To spare us both, and lay the fault on Love.
Ch.
[Page 49]
Weell love shall blind the Gods & pittie shal
For once the faire quene be presidentiall.
Or if the Gods will not commiserate,
Ile steale thee over stix in spite of fate
‘Flectere sinequeo Acheronta movelo.’
Miserum me fuisse faelicem! To Mr. H. C.
Had
Palynurus, never stear'd so farre,
As India, where the earthes choyce treasures are.
His wooden Castle. might have split in sunder,
And nere arrived at a nine dayes wonder:
Had
Bellisarrus, and I, never seene,
The faithlesse face of change's changefull queene'
And to so lof
[...]ie hopes had no admission,
How blest had wee bene in our low condition?
Had
Athenais not
Eudoxia bene,
T'had bene no wound to be throwne downe ag
[...]n;
Had I nere sene you (fairest) then my breast,
Had still bene calmie in its haven of rest.
What th'eye nere sees, the heart nere grieves? had I
Nere drank at all, then had I nere bene dry.
I saw you but, and the wing' archers bow,
Drawn by the attractives of your eyes pei
[...]c'd through.
My heart, so did hee from those eyes p
[...]ocure,
His bolt, his bowstringe, and his cynosure.
[Page 50] Unlucky luck, with joy and woe it fills mee,
Tarantula like, it makes mee laugh, and kills mee.
Tis thou hast wounded mee, and
I must meet
My cure in thee, O my sweet, bitter-sweet.
‘Sic mihi res eadem vulnus opem que tulit.’
A. B. To an Irish Gentlewoman that slighted him.
WHat time my bloud shall boyle so in my Ueines
As I shall need a cooler for my reynes,
Ile call on
Io. fairer far then you are
Shall ease me of my Cod-peice Calenture;
But if a
Priapisme put me hard upon't
Ile keep a Cow: And not an Jrish Ront.
To my noble Cosen Mr. R. C. coming in mourning to be merry with his friends.
ANd why in black? what means this nights arra
[...]
Since
[...] am frolick as the day?
Why comest thou thus in mourning to thy friend
As if to minde him of his end?
[Page 51] In such sad weeds the unwellcome Raven com:
To croak out our determinated doomes:
Shake of these mystie foggs, that wee may know,
How much wee to thy visit owe,
Come not as thou hid'st treason in thy shrowd,
But lend the sweltring Sun thy cloud.
So shall hee set him downe and slumber, while
Thou cher'st us with thy smile;
How ill contrived is that companie
VVhere one does laugh, another cry?
This man is cloathed in whit, that blew, thou black
Even just like Ieffery. Iames and Iack.
VVhat will the world conclude when they see thee
In this sleabitten live
[...]ie?
Wee laugh, you lowre, wee singe, your serious state.
Seemes to affect the marbles fate,
This discord is unmusicall come, come,
Vncase unmask', aud let each roome.
Thou glidest through, so radiant appeare,
As if the orbe of light moved there:
Breake out bright Soule, & give our wonder birth
At the
Meridian of thy mirth.
Trust meet'were good and rare, but I see plaine,
Thou bring'st old fashions up againe;
Thy presence was a banquet and thou didst,
Present a deaths head in the midst.
So all thy courtesie ru'ns upon cruches,
Like him, makes a good feast, and grutches:
But, prethee, shall I this a visit call?
Suer thou cam'st to my funerall;
Or i'st because thy clothes gainst surfets be, mementoes of mortalitye?
Dost come to laugh, And set good chear to wrack,
And yet bring
Lent upon thy back?
Nere fear good Cos-Heres nothing needs,
Such overmonito
[...]y weeds;
[Page 52] Wee have not to presnt you, what is rare
Only y'are wellcome to our country; fare;
Good powderd beefe, good mutton and good sherrie,
And so, and so, I pray be merry,
With which accept our hearts; wee could extend
no more, should a'll the Gods descend.
And if this paper find acceptance too,
Tha
[...]'s more sir then I promis'd you.
But I had rather be abrupt then tedious,
And therefore thus, and only thus,
You come in mourning, but when you returne,
You may leave of, but we must mourne.
A gratus ades To my highly honoured cozen Mr B. C. Comming to Norwich.
And art thou come boone
Ben? then Norwich say,
Thankes (noble
Phosphor) for this wisht for day
Then wellcome, wellcome, be they ever dumb:
That say not now wellcome B. C. wellcome:
Had I bene mute from birth, I now had broke,
All tounge tyes, and with dumb borne Atis spoke;
As
Iove came downe the trifle to discusse,
T'wixt frogs and mice; so camst thou downe to us;
Both from above: though, here some difference lyes;
Hee came from heave'ns, thou from earth's paradise.
Yee both desend, being both divinely bright,
To d
[...]zle our inferiour Orb
wib with light:
The country swaines' cause they alas could spell
No higher title, call thee Collenell;
[Page 53] Some wiser though then others, reaping co
[...],
Thinke thou art
Ceres, and resound their horne.
Devoutly beg thy largesse, and out vye,
The thunder with the ecch'o of their cry.
But when thou camest in at
Stephens gate,
Thou gav'st our city cause enough of prate;
O how the people hurry, hurry ran,
To gaze upon thee as If more then man!
What heards of Aproners at every looke?
Read on thy robes
Norfolks illustrous Duke?
Weavers, like shutles, here, and there pe
[...]p out,
And make no workon't for the revell rout.
Who finding how in vaine they strive for roome,
Each in a fustian surrey to his loome.
Re
[...]u
[...]nes, And armed with his well try'd beame,
Levels his passage through th' oposing stream;
You'd laugh to see, how Taylours skipt about,
As mad as dogs to see themselues cut out.
VVishing theire needles had no eyes so they,
(Poore theeves) might see their bellyfull to day.
The that her from the top oth' house, seing all,
Capers as if hee car'd not for a fall;
But tis too tedious to recite the rest,
They that were part oth Crowd can tell you best.
O how they shrunk into each others arme!
T'was a great mercy, that there was no harm
[...]:
Their bodyes twin'd, and tounges lay never s
[...]ill,
As if the rout had bene a twistring mill.
In deede the
Mayor, and all the skarlet Donnes,
The bells too, and the thunder thumping Gunnes.
Had bene your entertainment; but of late,
Tis superstition and growne out of date,
Nor had I thought t'haue writte, but your advance.
Constraindmee,
Orpheus. playes, & trees must dance
I am created post by my Theame,
Like Memnon's statute by
Apollos,. beame.
To the worshipfull A. D. his Majesties Physitian Crossing the Seas.
ACcept his sad farewell, Sir, who here sings,
As
[...]ying Swans do at
[...]canders springs;
Farewell, Step there; O how the surges rise,
[...]nto a brynit spring-tide from mine eyes?
As if yet hope were left that these salt flowes
Might lend you Sea room, or else drown my woes:
And least you want wherewith to fill your saile,
My sighes swell up themselves into a gale;
If still be-calm'd, may you at least yet finde,
The proverb true in this, my Words, are Winde.
Meane time I shall to
A
[...]olus repaire,
That he would breath you winde enough and faire;
And then, to him commands the wavye Court,
To chyde the Dolphins from their ominous sport;
Next ile entreat the azure-mantled skies,
To let their smiles, be your faire auguries;
And may your thankfull patients, beg of heaven
Health for you, Sir, who health to them have given
If among us to rearrive you please,
VVeel say,
Phaebus comes from th'
Antipodes.
If your return though, be deny'd by fate;
Live
Nestors years in
Avicenna's state.
And
Aesculapius-like confirme the Earth
With faith, that you are of immortall birth;
This boon I beg, Sir, and this only one,
Now, and then, think on your poor
Stevenson.
To the City of CRACOVIA.
NOt out of Love, but fear of following evills,
The
Moores of
India sacrifice to devills;
So we to
Norwich did invite
Sir Thomas,
Only for this, to get him further from us.
To Mr. R. C. upon The Mourning Ring he sent mee.
WHat, shall I laugh, or weep? this present, doth
Present mee a necessity of both:
How can I choose but smile, when I behold
My lucky starrs laden with orient Gold?
But when I see it through black Curtains peeping,
Ah mee! I think, &c. fall a weeping,
My passions fight and flow, and it appearrs,
Excess of joy, as well as grief, finds teares;
VVhilst I thus rapt
Narcissus-like espie
Sun shine, and showers, play
Aprill in mine eye;
See how the Gold be peeps in sable shrouds,
Like
Phaebus posting through the raine-swolne clouds;
[Page 56] And well the simile holds, the black present
[...]is setting, and the Gold his orience.
Here night and day
Luna and
Sol appeare,
A
[...] if true Aequinox were only here.
Nor should I much mistake the Aequ
[...]page,
To calt the golden, in the iron age:
I may go boast, I on my finger weare
The pythiest Hyeroglyphick of the yeare:
For I can summer in thy posie read,
And winter to the life in thy deaths head:
Pretty, and precious guift, it showes to mee
Both puritie, and perpetuity;
For whilst the Gold thy pure love does commend,
The Ring instructs my thanks to know no end.
To—upon his giving mee a Library.
HOw say you now? think you, I do not please
My friend well, to obtaine such guifts as these?
VVha
[...] a whole Library at once? who lookes
Upon it, must conclude mee in his books.
To a Gentlewoman, that refused. A very rich Suitor, because he was not very handsome.
FAire Cosen, let me in this case advise,
To quitt your fancy: and give reason eyes:
[Page 57] They that choose apples by their looks, are oft
Foild in their hopes, and for their folly scoft.
Tis not the outside makes the man, Alas
A man's a man, had hee no Nose on's face.
Your
Lapidaries not unoften note,
The
[...]arest Jewell in a ragged Coat:
This Gentleman whose double duty serves you,
For ought I know, is one that well deserves you.
Forsake your eyes here, and trust to your eare,
Hees sober, steady, staid, and fit to steare
In this tempestuous age: hard hap betides
Such vessells as have green heads for their guides:
But you shall ride amidst proud waves sccute,
Hee being Pilot, And you Cynosure.
I could both name the parties, and the places,
Had bargaines foule enough of the faire faces,
Nor yet is liking allwayes beauties child,
Some have more wit then so to be beguild:
Beauties a blossom, and so quickly fled,
Tis scarce possest, ere it be vanished:
Strike while the Irons hot Cos. least you find
The Proverb true, occasions bald behind.
To me the man seems passing lovely, Tush,
His beauty's inward, Good w
[...]ne needs no bush
Hee's rich enough to make the world his debtor
Love, and lay hold then seldome comes a better.
I had not writ thus much, but that I know
Your parents own it, and advise you so.
VVhose directory pleasure but
[...]ullfill,
And you do well, though you do nere so ill:
Read, and revise these lines, sweet Cos. least you
[...]
VVhilst you your self make fast, your selfe undoe.
To a faire Lady.
HArd is the task to write to such as you,
For if I give you but whats halfe your due,
Such as are unacquainted with your worth;
Are apt to say, I highly set you forth;
Whilst these that know you, must conclude, with mee,
Your praise above the straine of flattery.
They that nere saw the glory of the Sun,
Would think the Moon lights only parragon;
So fuch, to whom scarce a good face is knowne,
Measure your beamfull beauty by their owne;
Whilst, saw they but your face, As in amaze
Theyd worship, what they wonder I so praise:
Could you (faire soule) but parcell out your graces,
There were enough t'
[...]nrich a thousand faces
And leave your selfe such store, as (though your light,
Have made them starres) you'd still be Queen of night,
But hold my Muse, my paper is halfe done
And I have scarce her story yet begun.
But that would ask (to tell you what I think)
A world of paper, and a Sea of Inke.
Of Inke said I? Inke alas! would make that,
A spotted fame, that is immaculate,
No,
I will rather never write at all,
Then mention her, who is all-sweet, in gall:
[Page 59] Hee that the Bow-bell of her praise would ring,
Must pluck a pineon from a
Seraphins wing.
And write in
Nectar till her fame appeares
An anthem to the musick of the spheares
But to leave what only my wish effects,
My fancy to whats feasible directs;
Ile rob the Swan of her white quill and then
With the same pen-knife that
I make my pen,
Ile lance my purple veynes, and therewith write
Her story, like her self in red, and white.
And when my bloud ha's all forsook my veines,
Let mee but be her Martyr for my paines.
To my Mistresse.
SO love me ever all yee powers divine;
As I love her, whom hope perswades is mine:
Rich then and happie were I, thus to winne
A beauty, Heaven without, and Heaven within,
Had
I the world (as
Alexanders heire)
Left mee, a patrimony high, and faire
Enough yee'd think, yet
I for all this store,
Except shee whom
I love, love mee; am poore.
The middle Sister.
D
[...]me nature seems to make your Sisters stand
As handmaids, that attend on either hand;
To right, or left I turne not, Poets say
The middle is the best, and safest way.
I view the Temples, and I find them three,
But still the middle Temple goes for mee:
Your Sisters are like banks on either side,
Whilst you, the Chrystall streame, betwixt them glyde;
Tis light at morne, and when the day declines,
But yet, the brightest Sun at midday shines:
Methinks your Sisters stand on either side,
L
[...]ke Bride-maids, you in midle like a Bryde,
Doubtlesse in you the middle grace I see
O
[...] this side Faith, on that side Charity;
My fancy seems to dictate to my sence
A Cawsway, twixt two Ditches or its fence.
The smooth and silent floods, in midle flow,
B
[...]
[...]he shores murmur; cause thwaters low.
And now I tell you, but what the world knows
Full well, betwixt two Netles sits a Ros
[...].
The joviall Journey.
UP
Phaebus up, and guild the horizon,
For love, and beauty, are a progresse gone.
Stand not to gaze, least thy too curious eye,
A fairer Daph
[...]e, in this Coach espic;
And thou great Prince of winds vouchsafe to us
The gentle gusts of sweet breath'd
Zepherus:
Come yee auspicious Choristers of the aire,
Let these faire Ladies see yee p
[...]omise faire.
Cherp up (sweet Syren of the woods) nere feare
Here is no
Tereus, come be merry here.
And if the dust, it self too proudly reares,
Some gentle Cloud rebuke it with its
[...]eares:
Let the Earths green Plush, and floscular starres out vye
The brighter Orbs, of the fi
[...]st warning skie;
Let every b
[...]ook present so
[...]e pretry toy,
And every hedge be lin'd with travellers joy,
Grant fates, no inauspicious hare may chance
To crosse, yee, through unlucky ignorance;
But as the morning, so the evening may
Answer the beauty
[...] a glorious day.
Then Sun, Wind, Birds, Raine, Earth and flowers conspite
A harmony, next the
[...]elestiall Quire.
And whe
[...]
[...] meet, be your embraces such
As lovers, that each
[...]inu
[...]s absence grutch.
Whilst
[...]ll that see, admire your greeting kisse,
As if the body met the soule in blisse.
To my Rivall. Presenting my Mrs. Gold upon Her Iourney.
How now (my heart of gold) what mean these fleeces?
Hast broke thy heart and & given it her in peeces?
Or didst thou throw thy gold into her lap,
A ransom for thy ignorant escape?
Wouldst else be in the list of same enrolld,
To court thy love like Jove in shours of gold.
State-policie in faith, they wine the Towers,
That shoot gold bullets at the Governours.
Thou hast good reason too, to use this sort,
Of golden battery, to so strong a fort,
Beielve mee, this was a well cover'd bayt,
You hope, shee will in loves exchang repay't.
I hope so to, faith it was sauey sport,
Should you not get her portion mortgag'd fort.
T'may be you were in feare to loose it, and
Made an assurance office of her hand.
Or did the charmefull sparkles of her eye,
Dant your faint hart int' a delivery?
Goe charge the country then, for it was done
I am your witnese beetween sun, & sun:
You that your gold thus to a virgin yeild,
Doubtlesse a bush had robd you in the field;
How if some theif should steale away her heart,
And of her portion take thy gold in part?
This were a double miserie, for then you
Loose both your gold, and your adventure too.
Tmay be you think you have good anchor-holde,
And in her pockets bottom thrust your gold.
[Page 63] Maidens are mutable, be wise, beware,
The wind, & waves, not more unconstant are.
But you haue balanc'd hir with gold, least shee
Should suffer shipwrack in her levitie:
Faith you abuse your selie and her much more
To give her monie; Give it to a whore;
For I must answer for her, shee don't carrye,
The needy garb, of one that's mercenarye:
I wonder shee would take, But 'tis an old
Proverb; that none but madfolke refuse gold.
But all the world (should you be now deseited)
Would say, A foole and's money is soone paited
Vpon a Porter Catchi
[...]g a Gentlewoman as shee past by him.
Last night a Porter, standing by the pye,
At Algate, saw a handsome lasse com by,
To whome hee s
[...]w with all his speede to court her,
I wonder, for shee did not call a porter.
Still hee did hugg and in his armes enfold her,
As if he meant to heave her on his shoulder:
Hee wound her so, a stander by strait swore,
Some gentleman had sent him for a whore.
Shee cald him rogue, and sure shee cald him right
Yet hee, shee should not goe, sware by his light
Porter said I take he
[...]de, though shee be not,
Too heavy, firrah, shee may be too hot.
Besides shee's of your trade, And free, shee beares
As many burthens as you for your eares:
Though with this difference, shee beares her pack,
Vpon her belly
[...] you upon your backe.
Yee both weare baggs, distinguist the same way,
With Fryers shee of black, and you of grey;
[Page 64] You have a pad, and shee, for ought I saw,
Was like enough to have a pad ith straw:
You have a Cord you do about you cast
Shee had a cordie robe about her wast:
Both have your aprons. Say you have a frock,
So shee li
[...]es that will rime to it a smock.
Shees call'd upon, and calls upon her too
Sometimes a Porter such a knave as you.
But I perceive you well whereto she ply' de
And had the fit come on you now to
[...]ide:
If not, you are a lasi
[...] looby right,
To struggle with a burthen was so light.
At a Tapsters wedding.
FAith J will tell you now a pr
[...]ttie trick,
This
[...]apster, gat the wench
[...]ust in the nick,
Shee was; stay there! But why should I be loath
To tell the truth? shee was, as light as froath:
Hence I perceive, the Proverbs som
[...]mes crost,
For shee that's light, does not lye uppermost.
Shee had been broacht a hundred times before,
No matter, he had tapt as many more:
Shee's modest though, as I'me an honest man
Shee blushes, just l
[...]ke any C
[...]dar
[...]an.
And cause sheel be a smi
[...]king
[...], shee sweare
sheel snatch the smiles from all the laughing bere,
But heres enough of her, lets kisse the Cup
And if her Husband won
[...]: we
[...] step her up.
As for his part, hee was so crank, his geare
Out of his Codpeice, flew like bottle bere.
[Page 65] But she hoping the worst did clap her thigh
Close to the—that nere a d
[...]op went by.
She was a thrifty wench he got from Wopping,
That thought it sin to loose the least tap-droping.
I heard her say my selfe though he should fill her
Up to the brim, he should not want a Killer:
She told him of his wenching too, and swore
Unless he left it, she would quit his score;
Nor should he ramble up and down the Town
Nor draw through an
[...] Fasset but her own
Faith if you do, (and out an Oath she lashes)
Ile find you out among your balderdashes)
And if you
[...] tralops must not be forborne,
Ile break your pots: And make you drink in horne.
But t'end the jeast adding one more t'out passe it
See here the Spiggit's marrig
[...]d to the Fasset.
Summer.
SNakes cast their skins, and they are young ag
[...]
Summers the substance, winter the cast skin:
Summer is Youth in sprightly Aequipag
[...],
Winter's decrepit crasie, useless Age.
Sol's aureat be
[...]mes so guild the worlds vast stage,
Twere small mistake, to calt the golden age;
Summers all praise, what need it then a Poet
to speak it faire? since who know nought else, know it
I might imbellish summers sweet complexion,
Call Winter death; Summer the resurrection.
And when
[...]y tale with all
[...]y art is told,
What will the world conclude my news, but old?
[Page 66] Nor is it more then children use to say,
A sum
[...]ers' evening, is a winters day.
But Ile abruptly off, and what I have,
Begun absurdly, as absurdly leave;
Least I goe scale the spheares, aud blinde with light
Set in a cloud & simply say, Good night:
In prayse of winter.
HOnour and Age inhabit the same spheare,
Winter is the antiquity of the yeare:
Grave signiour Hyems, so his hoary pate,
And snowy beard, denounce his aged state.
See but how like a statlye traveller,
Northward hee comes; Autumne's his harbinger,
That bids the trees unmask, unueyle their creasts.
That he may read submission on their breasts.
Whilst their green ofspring lowly fall, to greet
The potent presence of his stable feet.
The gawdy bankes pack up alas! here comes
No midwise
Aprill, to unteeme their wombs.
Nay here the showr'd downe waters, stand amaz'd,
Rivers are Chrystallin'd,
Neptun
[...]s hall is glaz'd,
Spouts have their pendents, paultry thatch receives
Translucent Chrystall, And adornes his Eaves.
Iaeda's a fable, but I here presume
To justifie, that
Iove descends in plume.
And that the stupid Earth may know he comes,
The Heavens send down whole showers of Sugar plums.
Whilst streets are pav'd with Pearl: Let summer boast
Such pomp, such cates, and all my praise is lost.
[Page 67] But here's not all of winter: you shall
[...].
[...]
How
[...] Ae
[...]lian tugge,
But
[...] white
[...]ugge?
We may
[...] he can
Enjoyne the
[...] a man.
The saucie Dus
[...]
[...], and mire,
Merits no mention,
[...] are higher:
S
[...]mer breeds surf
[...], and infects the bl
[...]ud,
Winter is h
[...]ile againe, and makes all good:
Is beauty of est em? then winter can
Boast, hee abstergeth Su
[...]mers freckled
[...]an:
Ladies so spruce to captivate mens sight,
Borrow March winds to make that sprusenesse white.
Winter makes men couragious, who dare
Dance upon
Th
[...]tis lap at midsummer.
In Summers dayes even length, and lazinesse meet
Winters are short, The Proverbs, short and sweet.
Theres none so bad to be call'd dog-dayes here,
No no we move not in so base a spheare:
No scorching Sun offends, any man may
With a good faggot make a Summers day.
What entertainment to a winters toast?
VVhat Christmasse, pray, can
Iune or
Iuly beast?
Summer alas hath no Aeolian breath,
To rescue his perishing souls from death,
Flame-colourd hearth, even
[...]eady to expire,
Looks pale as ashes, Sol puts out the fire,
Trees strait are lopt then and their verdant locks
Borrow'd, to border o
[...]t the Chymnie stocks;
Set out with trunks of trees, stumps, armes and all,
As if the Chymnie were some Hospitall:
In winter time the hea
[...]th stands alter wise,
And men with hands erected sacrifice.
[Page 68] Whilst in a round the Priests of
Bacchus sing
Ingenious Anthems, to their grape-crownd King:
In winter men at cold meat make a pish,
In Su
[...]mer they are glad of such a dish;
Winter hath boyld, and bak't, and roast, Ala
[...]!
Su
[...]mer turnes men, as men do beasts, to grasse.
VVinter makes warres of tease, who would not that
If peace and plenty have no praise, then whnt?
I might enlarge my self, but thus farre may,
Suffice to travell on a winters day.
VVho likes not this, a gods name let him run
Out of Gods blessings, into the warm sun.
Vpon Yorkshire Ale.
1.
POx take your
Yorkshire Ale,
It did so firk my ta
[...]le
That that I had like beshit mee;
Besides, so damnd a tumour
Postest its divellish humour,
As it had almost split mee.
2.
Now hang thee tike of
York,
Thou giv'st us neither Cork,
Nor yet convenient wedges;
And know'st thy wylie wort,
Is wont to make us squort
Over a thousand hedges.
3.
That men should sit and fuddle
In such a sink of puddle
And to, and fro so put her;
Just such Ambrosia sucks
A Company of Ducks
Out of a filthy gutter.
4.
For my part Ile get bay't
And in my belly lay't
Having drunk this dirty floud:
VVhat ere my palat feeles,
There cannot but be Eels
VVhere there is so much Mudde.
5.
No marl' such nappie stuffe
As falling Band, and Ruffe
Throughout the Citty, haunts it.
VVhen I drink any more,
Then call mee such a whore,
As ile call her that launts it.
6.
Doubt lesse the men are mad
VVhere water may be had
That soop such nasty gore.
Some call't a remedy
Against the stone, but I
Have laid a stone at dore.
[Page 71] To humour palats, But for mine alone
Give mee your dealing and your drink right down.
Have at thee then (my boy) for a blyth pull,
VVeel wrap our noses up in thy Lambs wool:
And when our Cups advance a loftie h
[...]mme,
VVee'l hum thee up
Io
[...]n of
Hierusalem.
The Postscript. To the precedent Poem.
BUt what? your angry, twas not my intent
To slay the Lamb: or hurt the innocent.
VVhist! whist for shame! least people as they passe
Say, Look yee there dwells
Ba—lam and his Ass.
Come
Iack be wise and thy self sober keep
And thou shalt be mine Host, when they are Sheep
Tel them the reckning twice twelve pence a peece's
J'le warrant thee that thou shalt get their fleeces;
And let them then come, and laugh thee to scorne
VVhen thou hast turn'd them out, like sheep new shorne.
In Commendation of Yorkshire Ale.
WOman be nimble, and let's see thy craft,
My early stomack craves a mornings draft;
Bring me that Indian pot whence I may sipp
The Nectar of black
Cleopatras lip:
To my right well recko
[...]d host at the Lamb.
MJne host, or shepheard which is fitter title
Since you keep theep, though in the barly pytle;
They say, ther's many a well provided ramme
Comes to turne of his horne with your sweet Lamb
The fallow Ewes when the Tups are fled,
Set toot, and sweare theyle drink all weathers dead.
This though, is much complain'd of, that you keep
An old brown Curre to worry all your sheep.
Nay more, as some report that have been there,
There is a kinde of magick in your beer:
And
Hocus pocus drawes it too, or else
Jt turnes your sheep to foxes first, And then
A game at Noddy, Theres your sheep agen:
Sure
Circe taught thy Cup this cunning charm
To metamorphose with so little harm.
But stay! you keep a Scriv'ners shop mee think
VVhere pipes for pens, and best bere, serves for Jnk;
Y-have clarks too, and industrious ladds, for some
Run, making of Indentures all th' way home.
Else bedding with the Lamb, they rub their eyes
And shake their Eares, and with the larke they rise.
Jle come and see thee faith mine host, perhaps
Bring thee as many guests, as thou hast taps.
Then wormwood Succory, Scurvy-grass, & Sage
With Lemon, shall advance in Aequ
[...]page
[Page 72] The marrow of Malt: where the nut brown toast
Smiles in the flowrie Ale, whose mirthfull hoast
Makes mee turne Marriner, and hither saile
To court the confines of this famous Ale.
This noble Ale, this most substantiall liquor,
That chears the
Stade, and makes the Genious quicker,
Ideots a s
[...]p board sick, accuse the Seas,
Whilst their own fowle stomacks are the disease
So fooles pick quarrell with pure cleansing Ale
Because it doth Sir reverence wring their ta
[...]k:
Mee thinks this Ale, and the old wise agree,
So well, as
Hero and her Nurse I see.
Would but good fellows meet, our daylie club
Should act the Sisters at the
Danaan tub:
But stay, I feare, while
I thus idolize
The shrine of Ale, I but enhance the price,
Be therefore this sufficient to be said,
Alive tis Ale, And
Aqua vitae, dead.
Vpon a hungry gutted Porter.
NO marvell Chapman falls so to the scrap, she first, and best part of his name is chap:
Which if a man but spell, he easily can
Perceive, more letters go to Chap, then man.
Yet this is all but mirth, although perhaps
He may conceit I take him on the Chaps.
Well if
I do, my frolick is to swap
My nimble braine, against his nimble chap.
Yet this by way of leave ile adde, a more
In sitting poster never kept a dore.
[Page 73] How should he ope it? for hee never heares
If it be true, The belly hath no eares.
E. B. To his noble friend, that gave him a new paire of Boots, and Gloves.
—Ods foot.
I Never drew on a compleater Boot;
The blushing top makes me top gallant, and
Me thinks
I do on beds of Roses stand:
Nay even the very leggs do seem to owe
Their orient tincture to the Sonnes of Bow:
Nor can
I think but
Iove-Lov'd-Io's hide
Was purchast, to compleat this Ocrean pride:
Who having been the thunderers Curtesan,
Blushes to crib it with the Calves of man:
The wax was borrowd from the Lillyes bed,
And the three Sisters span, and cut the thred.
The Boot in the exactest mode doth set,
All (in a word) from top to toe is neat.
As for the Shoemaker
I can only tell,
For one hee never saw, hee fits me well.
Your Gloves too make me spruse, as
Iohn a Gant
Protest (sweet Sir) you are right Cordevant,
For you have given mee Boots, and Gloves to boot
What shall
I say? y'have bound mee, hand and foot.
A. B. to his shoemaker.
Sirra looke to 't I shall reduce your pride;
Rip up your roguarie and tew your hide.
My weather long shall apt a time for th'n
[...]nce
To strcatch the latchets of your logger sconce.
You were too high ith'instep, I'm afraid,
Your lostinesse will soone be under laid;
Crispine coucht in a shoemakers disguise,
Cause none so base to cheat inquiring eyes.
Yet to sit mee should
Crispin come to doe't,
Crispine, by Jove hee came but to my foot.
And dost thou wretch to reach this head of mine,
Muster thy brussels as the Porcupin
[...]
Her quills' presumptious trash, I could afford,
To send the challenge to the cutting board;
New vampe your manners; & more modish bee,
Least
Peter streatch you on a crosse graind tree:
Where being once set up, tis'ten to one,
You'l find it harder to come off, then one:
Villian avant, henceforth nere locke to have
The lengh of my foot, since y'have plaid the knave.
Noe noe, I view your bill and there I see,
The very place where my shoe pinches mee;
But make your market pray of what is past,
Fellow beleve't of me y've had y'our last:
And that the world may see in every line,
I firt thy foot, as thou hast fitted mine.
Thus I in fine translate thee, goe, extend
Thy base spun thread, to make a Coblers end.
Vpon his giveing a payre of shoes to get the former paper answered.
Silly, and sence lesse, knockt there heads together,
To sorge a foolish answer, knowing neither.
To whome, nor how, only they would b'lurt forth.
Some thing, that men might see their want of worth.
I'le bray you in my morter fooles, and then,
Make yee a pastime for the worst of men.
Incorparate yee vessells, base absurd,
With
Album Graecum, and the Divells turd.
Compound yee up into a pocky pill,
VVith C. & G. & D. & Sarseperill,
And Sassafras, whilst all that see yee, shall
Say yee are rogues Alexipharmacall.
I hope it shall suffice, when I have brought,
Your bodyes into atomes, worse then nought;
Some fishwives kist your fancies, taught ye prat
[...]
The rabulous dialect of Billings gate.
And yet I lik't your taile timber for it,
Came Just in time as I had list to sh—
Sans Ceremonic then end these Jarres,
You and your Poet after kisse mine A—
But didst thou think up to reveng to climbe?
By a poore mercenary, hacking ryme, Or that thou couldst thy letherne purse-strings stretch,
Vnto the latitude my braines would reach?
Away, poore foole! when my keene satyrs come,
Off with your hat, and scrape your answer, mumme.
Shouldst thou buy lines, to answer mee thou fopp
I'de write, till't cost thee all the shooes ith shop.
Alice Goffe. A poore woman taken stealing soape.
Why how now woman? what's the newes? belike
You serve'd the grocer but a slippery trick.
T'was very cheap, nay marry you must thrive,
If wee pay ten, & you get under five.
But stay they say the grocer turn'd his eyes,
And you stole, both the custome, and excise:
And well enough you did, but a rope
The mischeife lyes, you should have left the soap.
You made wash way with't, being but a reach,
But have a care, ith end 'tmay cost a streatch.
You know the broverb, ti's as true as old,
If the one chance to slip, t'hother, will hold.
Alas you never could have stoll'ne a badder,
Commoditie, Sope brings you to the ladder.
You think to have't with a wet finger, but
A cleanly theife had better be a slut.
Come, Come, stay the hoggs leisure pray, I hope
As good as you doth wash with Lincolne shrie sope,
If you steale sope to make your clothes so fine,
You le bring your selfe, as well as them, to th'line.
Yet I confesse, twas pittie goody Goffe,
Stealing good soap, you came no cleanlyer of.
To my Noble Friend.
THis after-noon your rideing Boots and bands,
Your good grey cloak, and Gloves came to my hands;
The Gloves were trim, the Cloak most purely feeles,
The bands, and Boots have tyde me neck & heel.
To the same Gentleman desiring my verses upon any price and on his sending mee a new Suit.
PRice? out upont! what price? pray doe you think?
A peice of paper, and a little ink?
If you like our poetick merchandise,
Traffick, and your acceptance is the price.
For mee
I think it even in justice meet,
So long as you finde Boots, that we finde feet:
Sir in a word, your love returnes with ours,
Our suit accepted was, and so is yours.
To a Schoole master. In excuse of his Scholler G. Green.
THis duskie morne the youth was overseen.
Pardon good Sir, in truth the boy is Green.
To my valued friend: A New-years gift.
HAd
I but
Mydas Chymick tuch,
My new years gift should now be such
Europ should it admire: But I
Talk of Larks in a falling skie;
In stead therefore of hopelesse pelfe,
Deyne but acceptance, and my selfe.
Am your oblation, but alas!
How shall this guift for current pass?
Since what I here present unto you,
Being given you long a go
[...]
I owe you;
Since then our gifts prove empty dishes,
Weel furnish them with wholsom wishes:
Our first be this, where ere you come;
May you but view, and overcome;
Weed wish you yonger brothers wit,
But that wee see y'abound with it.
May shee that moves your amorous thirst
Be wounded, and your pris
[...]er first;
And let her unconcealed fires
Foment your temperate desires,
May favoring heaven, lend her no rest
On any Pillow but your breast;
And when glad
Hymens holy twine,
Hath clapt her Lilly hand in thine,
Then let thine armes at once enfold
Faire
Hellens face, and
Danaes Gold:
May all her care, and study be,
To love, and be belov'd of thee;
H
[...]avens make her such as thou wouldst have her
I envie, any foes shall make yee,
Be this their curse, A Good yeare take yee.
ALE.
IS this that Ale to which the Dyers flew
So fast, to wadd their Copper noses blew,
Bidding old stingo Cut-throat bere, adiew?
Then give us Ale.
Is this that jolly juyce, those bowling bratts
Soakt in, And on their shoulders set their fatts
With Rains-heads, spite of Rainbowes in their hats?
Then give us Ale.
Is thi
[...] that
Yorkshire stuffe did so confound;
And send a way the Weavers shuttle crownd,
That they could neither finde nor feel the ground?
Then give us Ale.
Is this that temple, where the weavers lay
To meet the merry Merchants, day by day,
And double Ale their single stuffs away?
Then give us Ale.
Is this that so much talkt of Northren hum,
For which both simpletons and s
[...]ges come
Is this that
Lantatan—tanta? so—but mum.
Then give us Ale.
Is this that Ale that makes you dyers be
So oft from home? pray tell me where were yee?
Should all be hang'd that from their Colours flee
Then give us Ale.
Is this that same that did so much besot
The toasted Comber, as he quite for got
His own, And now calls for the other pot?
Then give us Ale.
Yea give us Ale, for now I finde it true,
That Merchants, Weavers, Combers, Diars too,
And all the world, this liquor turnes true blew:
Then give us Ale.
As for your Poet his unfeyned wishes
Are, that the Ocean were such Ale as this is,
That yee, and all true trouts might drink like fishes.
Then give us Ale:
And for ol'd
Margerie that Northern minks,
For my part, such Ale as, shee brews, shee drinkes.
A Visit.
LAst Fry day, to my neighbours house J slept,
To s
[...]e what Hospitallity he kept;
Soon I espid his Chimnie like a Maiden
In the green sicknesse, with her colour fading,
Blushlesse, and bleath, only herein they sever:
This a numme Palsie hath, and that a Feaver:
[Page 81] Neighbour said I, your Chymnies to be let
Why (Sir) quoth hee, you see no bill ont yet;
Well then, said I, to put you out of doubt,
I guesse so, cause your fire is going out.
To the World.
SOme say
Deucalion made the World
Rep
[...]pulous, with stones he hurld
Over his shoulder; On my life
Tis false, Hee hurld them ore his wife;
And ever since 'thas been the fashion,
So to hurle stones in generation.
O. P. to A. C. that oversold him a Horse to pay him at the day of his marriage, he being contracted and to marry with in ten dayes: O. P. not dreaming of any such matter.
WHy how now
Iockie? what upon the Catch?
Had I suspected yours, 'thad been no match.
Look how the Proverbs crost, you'r hastily bent
To marry, yet not you, but I repent.
How have my starres my credulous hopes still crost?
You ride a cockhorse: I must pay the Post.
Hence
I the er
[...]ame of the conceit espie,
You were though close, as hot upon't as
I;
But
I had smelt you out, and stopt your course,
Had
I had as much forecast as my horse.
What will men say to whom this storys told?
But
I and not my horse, am bought and sold.
[Page 82] You have my monie, and I hope with it
That I have paid for both your horse, and wit
Whilst it must be of all the world confest,
On your side a good bargaine, mine, good jeast.
But don and past, I shall revive no strife,
But take my beast, Sir, as you take your wife.
Whom herein I presume I make my debtor,
You, double paid, must do your work the better:
In brief tis thus, neither better nor worse
You up, and ride, and I must hold your horse.
Whilst
I conclude as sad experience teaches,
Not only you, but your horse over-reaches;
But 'twas so close, so slighly brought about,
Neither my horse, nor I could stumble't out.
Yet thus much might be spoken on my side,
Selling your horse, who'd think you meant to ride?
But twas my error to conceive you lackt
A Nag, your wife I hope found one well backt.
I might have lookt him in the mouth I see,
Neither your horse, nor you
[...]re over free:
My bargain, Sir, was bad, and you have done mee
Some injury with mine own horse t'out run mee,
But yet if your civility extends
To this requirall, we are absolute friends;
Since you are hee, whom I did so confide in,
You'l only lend mee your old boots to ride in.
Vpon the name of the same horse being called Butler.
BUtler! why that sounds draft horse, but I see
That thou canst scarce draw thy leggs after thee.
[Page 83] But yet thy crafty Master laid a ginn
And thou, and hee, made shift to draw mee in.
But
Troy will tell thee these are things of course,
Synon could do it with a wooden horse.
Pseudo Poeta in a paper of false verses inveying against Tantalia for her lyeing tales.
SHall I condemne
Tantalia, and not you?
Her tales were false, your verses are not true.
Be gentle pray, you seem to have forgot
The proverb, whilst the kill upbraids the pot.
Come, yee are guilty both, of oversight,
Neither your verses, nor her tales are right.
Yea I could show you too as many slips
In your false feet, as in her faltering lip
[...];
But I excuse yee both, for you perchance
As well as shee, did it in ignorance.
‘Veniam petimus dabimus que.’
Vpon — his Picture Prefixt to his Almanack.
WHat base aspect is this? didst thou devise
This haggy look, to be thought weather wise?
[Page 84] Gypsies doe just the same, they get an ill
And counterfeit complexion, that's their skil.
But thou, as thine owne patron didst advance
This front; A lye had need of countenance.
Whence, by the by, no wiseman undertakes,
The patronage of any almanacks.
Yet I durst sweare, ther is, if truth were known
Nothing in thine, but the fooles face thine owne.
That preface false and foul nor is that yet
Thine owne, but like the rest they counterfeit.
But mumm, since I have lately understoode.
That you with the fowre hundred prophesie good.
Yet thus by way of caution, take heede how,
You tell a lye, And set a face on't too.
To Mr. — upon his silly Epitaph in print.
But didst thou pump this lamentable stuffe?
P
[...]trest the lines are pittifull enuffe;
Th' are somewhat shallow, but if thou wouldst keepe her
I mmortall, let th' ingraver sink them deeper.
Thou, for the funerall, didst thy verses sort,
A
[...] men doe sugar plum's, some long, some short:
[...]Twas good luck though, they to thearse were pin'd
Else being lame tha'd sure been left behin'd:
But have a care, least with affront you greet.
The collenell, to send his wife a sheet;
Sure shee was rich enough, to leave behinde her
Other gate stuffe, then thy fowle sheet, to wind her.
[Page 85] Did'st thou intend this sing song to lier honour?
Thoud'st plaid the Sexton, & thrown dirt upon her.
Thou shouldst have lighted too thy dismall dashes
At the next torch, and cry'd ashes to ashes:
Then, as her preist, or poet choose you whether,
Thou'dst bury'd same, and body both together.
Had'st thou soopt sack, it would have brought thy chymes,
In better tune and tought thee loftier ryines.
But ah! thy, muddy fancy showes me clear.
Thou stood'st among the beggers, serv'd with bear.
Thou'dst better brooke an elegiak jeast,
And made an
affidavit mortua est,
Ye
[...]' twas well done t'avouch it with thy name,
Least honest men should suffer for thy shame.
Thou say'st thy belly shakd when thou didst writ,
I think so too, the divel a verse was right.
When my
[...]ll fortune's dead, and I would laugh,
He send for thee to jerke an Epitaph.
Thou wouldst be both a Poet, and Attorney,
Alas thy braines won't serve thee halfe the journy
Would'st be a poet and atturney? Harke
What I advise, learne first to be a clark.
But here's enough; hee that writ this, hee knowes,
The muses never dwell in Silly Howse.
On the Gun-powder treason.
Now, fooles! how think yee is there not a God?
Ask but your backes, that smart with your owne rod.
When yee prepar'd this cup, did yee then thinke,
The d
[...]egs should be the draught your selves must drink?
[Page 86] Doubtlesse, yee'd not have dig'd so deepe a pitt,
Had yee but dream't your selves should hansell it:
Bow black was this eclypse? what meantt yee by't?
A flame, and yet no light; twas hell fire right.
VVas ever vulcan matcht with such a horne?
But hee that sate in heaven laught yee to scorne.
VVhat at one blow both court and commons? pish
'Twas but a falsifie, a
Cal gula's wish'
Yea but false fire, by heaven the touch hole was,
So stopt the flame could not to th' barrell passe.
Blest be the churches great protector for't!
'Twas yee gave fire, but wee gave the report.
Infernall Angells sight with
Gabriell,
And heaven it selfe seemes undermin'd by hell.
But O how vainely the black brood of night.
Martiall their mates against the sonnes of light?
Fear not
Bethulin. Holoferenes shall,
Be dead drunk, and by his owne fawehin fall.
Goliahs boasts are breathlesse, mercilesse
Mydian
[...]
Must buckle to the brandisht blade of
Gideon.
VVee need not feare, nor care wee though hell knock
Our temple's built on an impregnable rack;
Preserv'd by providence. Babells bratts may kick
But never move our heaven sixt candle stick,
Tis
Rome must ruine
Rome, tis not your ginnes,
Are able to ensnare us, but our sinnes:
Puffe till yee pant againe, alas! fond foe,
You doe but ashes off our alters blow.
And whilst your hell
[...] hacht plots, your hate reveal
You don't extinguish, but inflame our zeal.
The wind, that shakes the boughes, fastens the root;
And you confirm us, whilst yee goe about.
Thus to supplant us;
[...]ush! yee doe but hence,
Endeare us to our God, for new defence.
But would you be reveng'd? then thus let't be,
Plot so, as he that made the eye, may'nt see.
To the right honourable the C. of D
[...]RSET, Promising a Gentleman her
[...] in marriage.
THe charmefull language from your lips distilld
My ravisht eares with heavenly musick fill'd.
Had
I led Love unto your Neeces heart;
And praid him there transsix his keenest dart
His being blind would have left him exempt
From penalty, And charg'd the whole attempt
On my accompt, whose boldnes durst aspire
(Prometheus like) unto celestiall fire.
Twere secriledged, and just such, to bereave
Dia
[...] of a Numph, without her leave.
Or steal a starre from off his region
Whilst
Phebe slept with her Endymion.
I had been fellon to your honours bloud
And stolne a cignet from that royall floud.
Had not your grace first given me my book
The golden Scepter of your gracious look.
But now with humble confidence I resort
To this faire stream, having your warrant for't
Only let me beseech your honour that
You'd ratifie it with a second date.
Then being armd with this encouragement
My next addresse is to the Lady bent:
[Page 88] My fortunes balance, on whose only breath'
Depends the sentence of my life, or death.
If such a match felicitate my life,
Ile treat her as
[...]y Mistresse though my wisse.
Ile study what may please her, and contend,
With fate, to make her happie to the end.
As for you gratious madam) deigne mee still,
The clear beames of your ladyships good will:
So shall I be assur'd what I commence.
Shall ripne in such sun light influence:
Meane while no thought shall from my breast arise
But what I dare present as sacrifice.
Thus J returne my selfe to both, whilst shee.
Possesse my heart; your grace commands my knee.
The weavers Memento mori.
AN honest weaver willing to make suer
His soule and body with arts ligatur.
Betooke him to his trade, and having got
The knack on't, knit them on a weavers knot.
But death a craftie merchant found a brack,
And let him plainely see t'would hould no tack,
Here's stuf
[...]e quoth hee, alas t'will scarse be worth
The looking on, when J have laid it forth.
Where is the fresh gloss, is this the lively red?
You spake of? tush tis
[...]aded, fled, and dead.
Alack and well
[...] day the weaver said,
How dearly have for this colour paid?
And yet it gives you no content, but J.
Poore
[...] must let, must leave my work and die.
[Page 98] Ah! mee impartiall death where thou dost come,
Thou either cutst of, or concludst the thrum.
My beame is strong, but strengh will not prevaile
Golyah's speare stout as my beame did faile:
My nimble shuttle flitting here, and there,
Presents my life's in stable character:
Mark but how swift it to its exit tendes,
So fleetly fly wee all unto our our ends:
Jt puts but forth, and at its port arives,
So doth our death begin even with our lives.
My globe like wheel about its pole is hurld,
Just as the heavens are rapt about the world.
And turning to my filling boy behind me'
His winding pipes, does of my wind pipe mind mee.
Jf hee stand still J must not work, if the aire,
Fill not my pipes my work will soon impaire,
A constant motion to my trade belongs,
So nature hath her loome, my breast, my lungs▪
My blouds' her posting shutle swiftly flies,
Through the strait conduits of my arteries.
My purple veines her warping is, my haire
My tendons find, my nerves her tackling are.
My solid parts, my able bones are some,
Appointed beames, some holdfasts of her loome.
And thus in there owne lomes doe all men weav
[...],
And women too from cradle to theire grave.
Nor cease wee all above a minites breath,
Till wee be turned out of worke by death.
Thus from those instruments by which Jearnt
My livelyhood, to dye I likewise learnt.
I looke but on my eyes, And I can read,
In them the seperation of my thread.
In laying of my coulours, still I found,
The lowest, a memento of the ground.
The fashions teach mee since they keep no stay,
The fashion of this world passesaway,
[Page 90] Come then and wellcome death I have enough
Of this vaine world, Its fraile, and druggie stuffe.
Can tempt mine eyes no more, come fetch me home
Ile give my life, for death; my loome for lome
To Constantia
Let others ply the oares t'wixt doubts and feares,
For I am past those rocks, those tydes of tears.
My sullen starre is fallen, warr's past, and I
Laiden with trophies of my victorie.
How doe I blesse my fate that I did meet?
With one so
[...], so faithfull, and so sweet.
My humble knee bowes henceforth to no shrine,
(Though
Venus were thy rivall) but to thine.
Happy my dearest, happie hee may lye,
Vnder the tropick of thy gracious eye.
Nothing but death shall my firme faith remove,
Nothing but the cold flore shall coole my love.
The G
[...]rdeon knot that could not be unty'd
By art, did
Alexanders sword divide.
Our love knot's faster, nor shall armes, nor arts
Vnlink the chain of our vnited hearts.
The noon-eyd sun may chance run retrograde,
And as a Daphne follow his own shade.
Heaven may descend to earth, And earth aspire
To Heaven. And water be at peace with fire,
Fishes and fowles may change their elements,
And take a glory in their new contents.
But when I faile, but when I cease to love,
The center shall from its fixt base remove,
[Page 91] VVhen I divid the thread our loves have spun,
The streames shall back upon there fountaines run.
This I conclude a possibiltie,
J may forget my name; but never thee.
Ceres cickle; whether art thou gone.
See'st not our hopes into full harvest growne?
Come boonest
[...]acchus, come let's have a health,
To our best wishes; love hath store of wealth.
View here our vintage, see our blest increase,
Of swelling grapes that only want the presse.
Hast Hymen hast, for wee must find in you,
The end of our desires and verses too.
To Bovino.
You bull it Sir, as if you meant a prize,
VVith milo at the bovine exercise.
Push for ward
[...] your good motion Sir, you may,
Encrease my landlords cornucopia.
But to speake naked truth they say that you,
Doe not run to the bull, but to the cow.
VVhere you your selfe in manner of a bull,
Doe give Europa her white belly full.
And as tis fit you should haveing gone halves
In getting, now you help to keepe the Calves.
But have a care St.
Stephens wide gates are near,
You'l run your selfe ou
[...] ere you be aware.
The FLEETS.
MY wishes greet
The English fleet
May no stormes tosse
The Harp and Crosse
Smile gentle fate
Vpon our State
Attend all health
This Common wealth.
The Navie of the Dutch
I all good fortunes grutch
Vantrump and his Sea forces
Shall have my daily curses
Vpon the Dutch and Dane
VVait their eternall bane:
The Cavalering part
I vallew not a fart.
To adrunken Porter reeling into the Ring to wrastle with a Taylor.
HEy hey pot-valiant Porter, friend, I feare,
That you have somewhat more then you can beare.
You make mee laugh to see you face and crack,
You puppie, I could beare you on my back.
Out of the Ring unlesse you were more stout:
The Taylor swears heel fling, or cut you out.
You stand so waving and so tottering,
As if there were an Earth-quake in the Ring.
And eye the Taylor, as you would adore him,
Y'are so devout you scarce can stand before him▪
Do you not heare him say it shall go hard
But at the first touch hee'l turne up your yard▪
Nor will he use a quarter of his strength
To measure all your quarters out at length.
See but his active stout, and able limb,
Porter I see youl never carry him.
Go wrastle with yond tree you dizzie crowne,
More need to hold you up, then hu le you downe.
Had you as many leggs as any louse
The eyes of
A
[...]gus, Hands of
Bryarcus,
All would not do it, for like
Polypheme,
You would be run down in this drunken dreame.
And in the turning of a hand be found
As sure as louse in bosome, on the ground.
Cord first his hands and feet, Then if you can,
Stand toot, and throw the ninth part of a man:
But your athletick art's not worth the trying
Go go a man may see where you've been plying
[Page 96] Brave sport, a Porter, and his fox turnd loose
T'encounter with a Taylor and his goose
Thus I perceive tis fatall to us all
After a Iustic cup to take a fall.
To a Brewer that promised mee a Staggs Tongue, and dissapointed me.
NOw your
A. sopick markets Sir, what
[...] you'l
Your selfe be Brewer, and make mee the fool,
Faith Sir you should not need your word to break
Ime sure your beere wont make a Cat to speak▪
Come come let's hat, without a tongue, I vow
That I will never speak good word of you.
Are you so politick to think by failing
Mee of my tongue, you do prevent my rayling?
Beleeve it not, Sir, I can cant my wrong
Like injurd Phylomel without a tongue.
Tongues are unruly members but I see
That you can rule yours, where it should befree.
Thus to be fool'd, and bafled all a long,
Twould make one speak that had but half a tongue
But I perceive the reason now my friend
Your tongue is fast by the roots ith Chimnyes end.
I must for peace sake, pocket up this wrong
And keep my hands of, because you keep your tongue
The tongues a two edgd sword, and by the cup
Of my contempt, J scarce can put it up
May the Staggs hornes be grafted on your head
Till
[...] have the Stags tongue you promised.
[Page 95] My furie flames
[...] feare J shall ere long
Like
Dives need your coo
[...]er for my tongue
For it begins J see to teare, and rend
Iust like a womans tongue that knows no end
Brewer be sure then that you stand aloof
Unlesse you bring your tongue under my roofe
May be you'l say, that you have none, but I
Am sure y't one have told me a divillish lye.
Thus am J faine to vindicate my wrong
Jn writing, because I have lost my tongue.
‘Iam pateris telis vnl
[...]era facta tuis.’
To this Brewer sending mee halfe a dozen tongues.
WEe judge it just that we distend our lungs
In gratitude to you that sent us tongues.
Wee were a little too long tongu'd but you
Have made the tongues fit for our mouths Sir, now.
You seem to make us double tongud, for wee
Expected but the halfe of what wee see.
Our skill in Phisick sayes the Staggs did die
Of feavers for the tongues were hot and drie,
But wee to wash down such conceits, did make
Them swim in best Beer for the Brewers sake.
The beasts that lost them should not be more brute
Then wee, if we should offer to be mute.
And where as wanting to
[...]gues we could allow
But paper praise, we cry a largesse now.
Thanks then thrice bounteous Sir, Twere sin if we
should be tongue-tyde, where your tongues are so free.
To my strange Rivall, servant to the Sister of my Mistresse engrossing both his owne and mine.
The Sceene JackaNewbery.
Y'are but a
Iack by
Iack a
Newbery
To overcharge your selfe, to injure mee
Be not so greedy, you two, and
I none?
The time may come youl find enough of one
Neither had been of our desires bereft
Had you but had your right: and
I the left,
Take heed you play not
Aesops dog whilst you
Cover the substance, and the shadow too.
Trust mee I must resent this injurie
To ouerdoe your selfe to undoe mee
Tis basenesse in the abstract greedy sinner,
Having thy belly full to crave my dinner.
But I perceive my talk is to no end,
For thou wilt burst thy self to starve thy friend.
This folly I have oft in children known,
Either two peeces, or they will have none.
And here to the I may it well apply
Tis better fill thy belly, then thy eye.
Traitor and theif thou, strob'd mee of my Jewell
But for the act Ide end it in a duell.
And faith I must too, come the worst event
That can tis but six moneths imprisonment.
And what is that to mee since I must be
Her Prisoner even in height of liberty,
Say death ensue my challenge? shall I doubt
To dye for her, I can not live without:
Faile not this after noon then to meet mee
Precise at fower, at
Iack a
Newbery
Your weapons what you please; unlesse my fate
Oppose, ile send you home by Cripple-gate.
To a Gentleman that promised, but failed, to meet meeat an Ale-drapers.
NOw halfe an hower past six, and more, & faile:
Your friend, a second time? Come give us ale:
Are you all dissappointment, is your frame,
And fabrick only such? Go fetch the same.
VVhat! was I borne to wait? upon my soule
You wrong my patience; woman, fetch a Rowle.
Your actions are unhandsome, without
baile
Or
mainprize, y'are condemn'd, go fetch more Ale:
Shall we loose such a morning such fair weather?
Go (faith) even fetch a brace of pots together.
Look, if he come yet; we are sure of these?
Not yet in
[...]ight? goe fetch the Holland Cheese,
What? you don't see him yet; well, we must call
For t'other dish of Ale, to wash downe all.
March in my black-brow'd pots; untill ye stand
Before mee, like an
Aethiopian band.
Faith, I am now in, goe to, trye, if yee
Eclipsed beauties, be good leachery.
Come then, and give me lip roome, shall I not
Kisse your black lipps? why? Ladyes kisse
[...]he pot.
Yes I must kisse, and friends: for it appeares
My wrath hath made me pull ye by the Eares.
Excuse me, pray, if I my selfe forgot,
For all the world can tell, I love the pot.
And therefore this doth my content beget,
Though I had no luck, I had pot-luck yet.
To another Gentleman, that served me such a trick.
NOt yet, nor yet, and yet the Chymes done going?
Some Beer, and Sugar boy! come, let's be doing;
My expectations big, come fill away,
Hope is an Anchor, Anchors make us stay.
Hamborough like, untill the Clock strike few
I mean to drink,
videlicet till two;
Nay I'me resolved, if I be alive,
Since
I am in, I will not out till five:
Then never grutch at what so e're you heare
I am no waiter, but where there's good cheare.
Sir, I am none of those, that can digest
Hopes false conception; Boy, fetch the best.
Hope is my issue, wherein I'm beguild,
You got it, pray, then answer for the child;
If not, you must, nay (faith) you shall, be witting
To pay the Nurse; And that is just two shilling.
To a Philomuse from whom I received a Paper upon the same Subject and by the same Post.
WEll my good Cos. what the same fish
That J was frying? faith i'de wish
To meet the oftner in my dish:
The proverbs, good witts jump, we both design'd
The plot, yet neither knew each others minde.
But didst not think it strange to see,
My part borne in thy Symphonie?
Tr ust mee
I marvelld much at thee,
Nay under
Morpheus you complaine your
Muse,
Mine under Saturne, Not a pin to choose.
Well fare thy pen! recald to light
This plot, that else had slept in night;
(As dark as
Faux his Lanthron) might
(Should we neglect such mercy) us include
In as high treason, deep ingratitude.
Ben godamercy for thy sonnet,
Let all
Papists descant on it;
Whilst all
Protestants vaile the Bonnet:
But for this time ile let thy praise alone,
Least having writ too: I bespeak mine own.
At the Florists Feast in Norwich Flora wearing a Crown.
GEntlemen welcome
Flora sayes so too,
For shee had had no feast now, but for you;
Once in a yeare
Appollo deigns a smile,
And gravity it selfe admits a guile;
Mechanicks have their meetings, and as oft,
As the snake tooth to taile turnes, sing a loft.
Bibbers Carowse it to the god of Wine,
And everie bird will have his
valentine.
But I had sav'd my labour of the rest,
Had I first said, each
Angel hath his
Feast.
How
I have been neglected of late yeares,
To you, whom I my judges make, appeares;
I shall not stand to tell you, since the seeds
Of discord, I am overgrowne with weeds;
Who say, between two nettles sits a rose.
Am not I
Queene of
Zephyr's familie?
And my rich traine, the earths embroderie
Are not my daughters the
Olympian eyes?
VVhose more then terrene luster, stellifies
The muddy face of
Ops, courting your view
VVith colours, such as
Ixis never knew.
VVitness the feilds, luxurious in my smile,
Presents the country every day a guile.
But tush!
I come not here, to feast your eyes
VVith simples, such as rustick fopperies:
For what alas! are
bottles blew, or
white,
Or travellers joy, to cittizens delight?
Hence, rustickes, hence yee petty plumes of May,
Though we
[...]lth and beauty of the spring, away;
This feast fars not with you, noe
these are they
Shall crowne the tryumph of faire
Floras day:
The
lilly and the
rose, shall not be seene
Amongst us, though of flowers the King, & Queene.
North. humble
violet, These, most lively, wee
Can in the garden of your vertues see.
Hence
goldy-locks, though hand maid of the sun,
Here's no roome for a pot companion;
Save such whose pots puft up with richest earth,
Are the
lucina's of a nobler birth,
The immortall
Amaranth, shall not here be showne
Nor
hee, who fancy'd no face but his owne:
These are our toyes, our trifles, But now, wee
Come to uncabinet our treasurie.
The lustie and the country gallant too,
As pledges of our loves present wee you.
The
Spanish, French, and
Welch infantes we
Commend for their unmatcht varietie.
[Page 101] The
painted Lady, (think it though no taint
Vnto her beauty, for tis natures paint)
The rare
Diana, not shee whome we find
In the wild woods, noe, this is garden kinde;
On whom a man may looke, and, smiles importune,
Without the danger of a horned fortune.
Next this sweet dame, There's the
Begrovenere,
The lovely
Comans, The peerlesse
Grampeere,
Speckemakers white, Taunies cumbers cornation
Are flowers which nothing want but admyration.
The
murry, mullion, and the
Baljudike
T'were plenteous want of wisdome not to like;
The faire
Amelia, the
Nymph Royall, and
The Turks cap,
the adonis,
the Le
[...]grand,
The Hugonant, Appelles,
and French m
[...]rble,
Are such whose praise, a
phylomel should wa
[...]ble.
The
Oxford had attended on the crowne,
But that to tell you truth hee's out of towne.
Here's the gray
Hulo though, and white
Cornation,
Would challeng more then common commendation.
The
Vannocker, the black
imperiall
And
Crystall too, the mirrour of them all.
Both
Wiggons, low, and loftie,
Angelot
The
Stranger, the
Catewser, and what not?
The
Duke of venice presence here you see,
And
York the flower of the nobilitie.
Thus gentlemen hath,
Flora told her store,
If you can find a wish yet ask for more.
And yet (propitious soule) before you leave her,
Shee vows to bring you in the
Prince's favour.
Had yee but met, when
tulops were in towne
She then had given you every one a crowne.
But did I call the
Lillie king of flowers?
Out of all doubt then these are
emperours.
If those be
starres then these are
planets suer,
If these but shine; those simples are obscu
[...]e.
A field to ma
[...]ch the graces of one check:
But
I shall add no more, save only thus,
That here Comparison is odious.
Ceres, and
Bacchus,, promis'd to be here,
And the best brewer sent us in our bere:
Since thenere neither wants Beer, Wine, nor guest,
Flaggons and flowers shall flow at
Floras feast.
Let chearly Cups crown a carowsing day;
A
[...]brose shall broach, ye the
Ambrosia.
Your eyes see
Flora's heaven and that your eares.
May feast too, hark
Apollo moves the spheares.
The Song.
STay! O stay! ye winged howers,
The windes that ransack East, and West,
Have breathd perfumes upon our flowers,
More fragrant then the
Phaenix nest:
Then stay! O stay sweet howers! that yee,
May witnesse that, which time nere see.
Stay a while, thou featherd Syth-man,
And attend the Queen of flowers,
Show thy self for once a blyth man,
Come dispence with a few howers:
Else we our selves will stay a while,
And make our pastime,
Time beguile.
This day is deignd to
Floras use,
If yee will revell too, to night
Weel presse the Grape, to lend ye juyce,
Shall make a deluge of delight:
And when yee cant hold up your heads,
Our Garden shall afford ye beds.
An EPITAPH. Vpon Oliver O dead drunk.
HEre lyes a Lyon, and a Lamb,
Sweet, and savage, wilde and tame:
Courteous, carelesse, Poore, and proud,
Man, and no man: Litle, and lowd:
Childrens
May game; fine, for lorne,
Courtie
[...]s consort:
Commons scorne:
Kind, and currish, would ye know
Who I mean? tis
Oliver O,
That companion base and boon,
Sets and Rises with the Sun:
Thus in brief his exerci
[...]o
He pipes, dances, and he dyes,
And when passing we can tell;
For he rings out his own knell.
Vpon his second time being dead drunk.
LOe here,
Dead as the bere,
Was drawn last yeare:
And Coffind up,
In a lost Cup,
Lyes, litle heart
O,
Who like a fart
O,
Did now depart
O,
Twas ruffe,
And with a puffe
Out went the snuffe.
Alas! how soon
Tis after noon?
This morning hee
O,
Was companie
O,
For thee, or mee
O.
Ahe Spanish smoke,
Into his poke,
As if he meant
Sir, by consent
To tune his pipe
O,
But being ripe,
O,
Began to type
O,
But P—
O,
No more but so;
Tis Oliver O
Lets oversee
This scape for hee
The truth to tell
O
Till he was mellow,
Was a good fellow;
And shall to morrow morning make's approach
As quick, and lively, as the fresh abroach.
An Epitaph upon a Weaver.
HEre lyes a Weaver, whom that Turk
And tyrant, death turn'd out of work.
Poore fellow he is gone, what though?
Hee's out of bonds would I were so.
Alas he sold
Chamelion ware,
By which he sav'd scarce ought but aire.
Gone, quoth hee
[...]! pray how should he stay?
Such gaine will drive us all away.
Well, twas a sad a
[...]d suddaine change,
And yet to me tis nothing strange▪
For trading's dead, and wares will give
No price at all, how should he live?
An Epitaph. Dedicate to the Memorie of Dr. Ed. Cook.
UNsluce your Captive flouds; what, can ye keep
Your eyes from teares, and see the Marble weep?
[Page 105] Burst out for shame, or if yee find no vent
For greife, yet stay and see the stones relent;
Jf still you can forb
[...]are; weepe then to see:
Your stupid hearts more stone, then
Niobe.
On goodwife Plaine.
Here with out either welt, or gard,
Lyes goody
Plaine in the Church yard:
Fresh in our memoryes, till the next raine,
Setle the earth againe, downe plaine.
On W. G. A great swearer but litle lyar,
VVill, the swearer's dead and gon,
VVhether? you may guesse anon.
Say hee is inheaven J dare not
Jn that sacred place they sweare not.
VVhere then? not in hell, no doubt,
For heed sweare the devill ou
[...],
What must then become of him,
Does hee neither sinck nor swim;
Heavens forbid, wel'l judge the best,
And conclude his souls' at rest.
Of his oathes, hee did repent him,
And his conscience do'unt torment him.
And hee shall (heavens mercy crav'd)
By Gods bloud, and wounds be sav'd
In memoriam Roberti Dey Pharmacap. Norv.
Arts Parramour is dead, that men may see,
Nature hath no
[...] hold of eternitie.
And my sad muse, might weep his elegie:
Norwich, in sorrows weeds attend his urne,
I
[...] not for his; yet for your owne sakes mourne.
Remember cittizens, yee us'd to fly
To sue out your reprives from death, to
Dy:
Whose salutifierous
magazine of artes,
Was your cheife
Sanctuary against death's darts.
There, feeble nature in a trice might be,
Arm'd against all disseases
Cap ape.
But hee Is gone, and in a good old age,
Tooke his calme
Exit of a turbulent stage:
His death as harmelesse as his birth, from whence
His years were crownd with double innocence;) good
VVhilst wee, (for so perhaps heavens have thought
Are left, to write our stories in our bloud.
Time's syth hath wounded him, but hee hath g
[...]t
Such
semper-vivum, as hee feels it not.
VVith faith, hope, charitie,
& contrition
He made up his
Celestiall composition.
And with an
unctious name hee mixt a
Roll,
Of
Gratia de
[...] for his wounded soule:
Now his thread yeilded to the
Sisters knife,
For
Aqua-vitae hee drinkes water of life.
Much might unto his prayses spoken be,
And only this one truth; namely that hee,
Even Dey, the true Apothecary was,
All that are left, are but synoyma's.
To the perpetuall memory of my ever honoured Cozen Mr. E. H.
Vnder this sad marble lyes,
Natures pride; and beauties prize:
As would charme a
Syrens eare;
Such her modest mode as shee.
Taught the turtle charitie.
Jn summe a more veruous wife,
Never sweetend husbands life.
To conclude then, all was shee,
Man could wish, or woman be,
Who lyes here, like treasure found.
Not above but under ground.
A Legacie to VRBANIA an unworthy Cittie.
Citty ingrate, nay worse, but Ile include,
All your good nature, in ingratitude.
Wellfare your costly swordes which now yee wou
[...]d
As faine encrimson in my inocent bloud.
As ere yee wisht m'
Crucifige accept you; ah! you
Hosanna cry, and
hosenecha too:
Js it in this; in this, J pray, I wrong yee
To spend my selfe, and my estate among yee?
Jf weary steps to make your Citty flourish,
If head, if heart, if Purse employ'd to nourish
Widows distrest, and orphans be a crime,
Grant heaven no worse offence take up my time,
Bark on black mouthed envie, yee as soone,
Affright mee, as the
Syrian wolves, the moone:
Nor doe J envie those, have sought with cost,
The honourable trouble, J have lost:
Lord fill my hart with thanks, my mouth with praise
My haires may yet see
haleyon dayes:
God guards mee still, though I've no swordes t t'davance,
Though no fine cap, God is my maintenance.
In Hono rem Poetarum.
WHose poore conceit is that
That Poets should be poore?
They talk they know not what,
Alas! they wish no more,
They have Enough in that they see
Content is worth a monarchy.
Do not the sacred Nine,
Come daily to their houses,
And break their fast, and dine,
And sup, and soop carouses?
Who calls them poore then, that are able,
To feast the Muses at their table?
Yee go to Poets, when
Your dearest friends be dead,
They give them life agen
Though they be buried:
Tis strange then, Poets should not live
That thus can life to dead men give.
Yea all the world must know,
Save those to truth averse,
The swaine was taught to plow,
By
Virgills fertil verse.
Tis strange then, he should needy be,
Found out the art of Husbandry.
Riplie was rich I trow,
VVhose Poems did enfold
That which men hunt for soe,
The art of making Gold:
He had the Phylosophick stone,
Sure hee, must then be ric
[...], or none.
Yea, do not all men say?
Poets dare any thing:
Pray was not noble
May
Calld brother by a
King?
Nor is it more then true report,
Satyrick lines have hang'd a sort.
Euridice could tell
That being ravisht hence,
Bold
Orpheus ransackt hell,
And rescu'd her from thence.
Yea verses so
Magnetick are,
They fetch the Moon down from the sphear.
Nor have they only power,
But gifts of prophesie,
The most celestiall dower,
Heavens give mortalitie.
Sure then they can't want costly Cates;
Being
Oracles and
Potentates.
They that have most, still itch
For more, more baggs to stuffe,
VVhilst they are only rich,
Can see they have enuffe;
How poorly fools of Poets prate?
Come, they are poore, whom God doth hate.
‘Princeps; & Vates non quovis nascitur anno.’
Man.
WHat time
Iehovah heaven, & earths
Cre
[...]tor
Had fully finisht the world vast Theater
He brings up Man, and gives the world to see,
His curious art, in their Epitome:
[Page 110] VVhich but in man, he in no creature would.
They but of Simple, hee of Compound mould:
They but of bodyes only doe consist,
In man a bodie, and a soule contrist;
His bodie his base part, earth represents,
His heaven-breathd soule, earth's soule, the elements
The ingredients of the world are water Aire,
Earth, fire, such man's ingredients are,
Your leave, And thus the semblance I rehearse,
Betweene the great and little Universe.
His head's orbicular, like the circular skies,
Whose lamps meet rivalls, in his orient eyes;
And as tis heaven most like, tis heaven most neare,
Reason swayes her majestiest seepter there;
That divine guest that makes a man, thence all
The senses borrow their originall;
And as their sole and supreme court, repaire,
To manifest their virtues in that chaire.
Nor may I here forget that comely front,
That so surprises all that looke upon,
[...]t;
Those lovely lineaments, those goodly graces,
Attend the sweets of well proportiond faces;
What wonders nature in his tongue commences,
The instruments of delicious senses?
Which wee beyond expresse oftimes, refresh,
With rapsodies from that small filme of flesh.
How right heres
Pan and
phoebus? whilst our cares
Are partiall twixt our voyces, and the spheares:
Some time t'is full, and makes his voice as loud,
As thundring roating from the shattered cloud.
But let's goe downward with his heires and see
How it does with the piles of grasse agree;
The number well concurres, in each wee see
The numerous foot steps of a deitie;
Both the effect of moisture; who so seekes
The
Rose, or
Lillie, they so blow in his cheeks;
[Page 111] Nay what can you present, but hee commands,
The lively transhape, from his
Protean handes?
His bloud is like the streams that to, and fro
Turning, and winding are, the center through:
should
I here swell my story, to present
The office of each
chord, each
ligament,
The
Nerves, the
tendons, and the
Arteries,
My life would be toe short to finish these.
Nay there's no member, but in it I see
A theame of wonder to eternitie.
And yet this body wee can't prayse enuffe,
Compare it with the soule ti's sordid stuffe:
Ther's not such dfference, t'wixt the sorrie case,
And Iewell; t'wixt the mask, and the faire face:
God made mans body after all the rest
Add after that inspir'd the soule the best:
The body from the earth the dust, ascends,
The incompounded soule from God descends:
T'is not the flessi, but in the soule, that wee
Assume the image of the deitie.
The bodie's suject to moralitie,
The soul part of the living God can't dye.
Natures appointed time of change revolves,
And it into his elements desolves;
His native heat does to the fire repaire,
Water to water breath unto the aire.
The bones, and parts that are more solid must
Lye prisners till they render dust to dust;
Meane time the soul, her native station keeps
In heaven, whilst nature in her causes sleeps.
A Guesse at HELL. Par nullae figura Gehennae.
ACcursed
Topheth! how shall I define,
This dismall dungeon, this sad Cell of thine:
So dark, so duskie, so devoid of light,
How shall I see to draw thy picture right?
VVhat Colours shall I grinde? Colours (said I)
Thou art all black, black as
Proserpines Eye.
Deep, & declive, beneath the dead Sea is
In a blinde hole, this thy all black Abysse.
Thy pitchie Pallace, where the chearly Sun
Nere comes, as out of his commission:
Nor lends the Moon so much as one odd night,
To qualifie thy darknesse, with her light,
VVhich we but sleep by? No, nor all the yeare
Does one small starre on thy dark front appeare.
Thou blackest Moore; ask but thy
Danaan traine?
Their tub tash tells thee thou art labour in vaine
Goe ask Ixion else, or him whose stone
Gathers no mosse, they all conclude in one.
Thou the true
Negro art, and
Patentee
Of utter shades, there is no night but thee:
The darknes the Egyptians felt, was but
A type of thine, and but too fairely cut:
Tr
[...]tareous Tullian, how thy tract is trod?
To Baalzeub, knight of the black rod;
Whose haggie haire, curls into snaky torts,
More terrible then poets poore report
[...]:
His ghastly, yea his grislie looke, is such
My sense fosakee mee, if I thinke on't much:
[Page 113] His hornes, the pitch fork is, where with he turnes
Those broyling Sceletons, he ever burnes
In flames that never shall be quencht, but hark,
I talk of flames, and yet I call Hell dark!
Flames I confesse there are, but black, not bright,
Yea there is fire, and yet no firelight:
Fowle feind! thy nose is like a
Comet, or
The tayle, of some prodigious
Meteoï,
Well may it serve thee for thy red hot purr,
VVherewith thou dost thy stifling sulphur stirre:
Thy sooty Eybrowes, are as black as coales,
Smoakt with thine eyes, that flame like Oven holes
Meane while the Corners where fresh Brimstone lies,
Pretend a yellow Jandyse in thine eyes.
But 'tis the black, the black (fiend) is thy griefe,
But thy disease admits of no reliefe.
Thy mouth like raging
Aetna vomits fire,
The furious flakes of thy unslak't desire,
As much attractive, and as mercilesse, as
The 7 times hotter headed furnace was.
Thine armes are firie fetters, that embrace
Those monuments of miserie whose sad case
Thou do'st not p
[...]ttie, though though seem' st a while,
To weep upon them, like the
Crocodile.
Have you not heard of smoaking Sodom? such
His breath's, But
Sodom smoak's not half so much.
His veynes are streams of sulphur: His loud lungs
His bellows; And his hideous hands his tongues;
His black, and melancholly bloud containes
VVorse venome, then
[...]re lurkt in
Centaurs veines.
And by his cloven foot, 'tis plainly showne,
His Kingdom run's upon Division.
[Page 114] These are his titles. The
Vnfathom'd Gulfe,
The
Roaring Lion. And the
Raging Woolfe.
The
Wild Beast of the Forrest, The
Annoyer
Of Christian liberty, The
Destroyer.
The
Mortall Enemy of all man kinde,
By these and such like tearmes is he defind;
Father of
Falshood, Feeces of the Cup
Of Condemnation who can summe thee up?
Or set thee forth, No hand can ere effect it,
Unlesse that hand, that captiv'd thee, direct it.
Envye her
Ensign on thy front displaies,
And like the
Basilisk at distance slayes;
Thy Nose steep as the
Alpes parts two deep Cells;
On this side,
Hatred: That side
Malice dwells.
And cause such beauty some preservatives askes,
Shame and
Confusion are thy constant masks.
But least my Charkole faile to finish thee,
Thou art the form, of all deformity.
As for thy vassalls, thus begin their evills:
Their entrance strait transformes them into Devils
Their entertainment will be such, as they
Shall flee to death, But death will flye away:
Hard are their haps, so vainly shall implore
A deadly
req
[...]iem, at death's deafned dore.
The torturous worme, that gnawes their consciences
Doe's like
Prometheus vultur never cease
Curses are all their hymmes: Their parched throats,
Cant
Lachrymae in lamentable notes.
Their Ditties, blasphemies, screichin their straine
[...]
Howling their tune, whose burthen greife sustaines
VVith sighs, and sobs,
[...]gnashing their teeth, they run
Their dolefull descant, and division:
VVell knew, our Saviour,
Iudas sad estate
[...]
VVhen he pronounc'd his birth infortunate:
[Page 115] Alas! these sufferings are insufferable,
Yet must be borne, although they be not able.
Sad is the strength, that is but lent us, to
Sustaine the
Atlas of a greater woe.
Of fables fond, and foolish,
Poets tell,
That
Hercules went, and returned from
Hell.
VVell might he goe, but if he ere return'd
To tell his rearrivall: Ile be burn'd.
Hee that comes to this place, he must discusse
His
Exit, with a stouter
[...]rberus.
Alcides might, and
Orpheus mirth, must faile,
They can not 'gainst the gates of Hell prevaile.
No hope of breaking out the Dungeons deep,
And the vast wall envyrons it, is steep.
Yet grant it scalable, there's a dreadfull Mote,
Nine times surrounds it that will bear no boat:
Son, such a Gulph 'twixt thee, and mee, doth flo
Thou canst not hither, nor we thither goe.
Despaire, and dye, hope no revocative day,
Since thou art banisht into
Scythiae.
Yee that drink the worlds
Lethe, forget
God,
See here his Scorpions, and his flaming rod.
Yee jested with edg'd tooles since
Mercyes heele
VVas lead: But
Iustice hath a hand of Feel.
Depart saies Christ, depart wretch from my sight,
Into the bosome of confused Night.
Hurry him hence: Head long him down beneath,
To the black vally of eternall death.
Think not wretch I co
[...]mand thy Curtaines close,
To apt thine eyes to a more sweet repose:
No! Hells hard servic'd Centinells, must keep
Continuall watch, and never, never sleep.
Nor be releiv'd: No
Circean lullabies,
Shall be of power to charm their damned eyes:
Think now, profanest liver, Do but think,
How thou of this so bitter Cup, wilt drink:
[Page 116] Call in thy thought and but consider well
And tell me now, but what thou thinkst of Hell!
Didst thou lye waking on a bed more soft
Then downe, pluckt from the Ravens plume, how oft
VVouldst thou wish morning? lingring for the light
Though bed-rid, but a poor Cymmerian night:
Think then how thou wilt tosse thy restlesse head,
VVhere everlasting burning is thy bed.
Think then I say of their accurst condition,
VVhose misery shal have no intermission:
This is that bitter draft, whose dire dregs be
The limits of these woes, Eternity.
Here I break off, should I prooeed to tell
VVhat thou hast lost that were another Hell.
‘—En ultima tanti Meta furoris adest.’
A glimiring glimpse of Heaven.
HEaven! Lord what's that? Is it that heap of treasure
The worldling hugs so? Or that sweet of pleasure
So Idolizd? Is it that glorious puffe
Of Honour, where with men nere swell enuffe:
Or is it beauty, whose Celestiall fire,
Blowes up that
Ae
[...]na of the worlds desire?
Lyes it else in Revenge that sweet, sweet case,
Of injuries; Noe, noe, tis none of these.
For wealth, alas! hath wings, and all the rest
Are vanity of vanity at best.
VVhat is it then? earths VVide-streatcht Canopie
The glittering surface of the ambient skie?
Is it the Sun? that glorious globe of light
Or his bright consort,
Empress of the night.
[Page 117] Noe, none of these, we must ascend a sphear
[...]
Two stories higher, then our eyes, and there
O there this Heaven of heaven is, But first
I
Er'e I can tell you, what it is, must dye.
In vaine for Heaven
I darkling groap about,
I can not see't, untill these eyes be out.
Eyes have not seen, nor hath mans mortall eare
Heard of the joyes, the joyes of joyes are there.
Nor hath it enter'd into th' heart of man,
Tis too angust, ah! tis too small a span
To entertain't, we must perforce decline it,
Heaven were not Heaven, Could flesh, and bloud define it.
Grant, O my God, that I not being able
To wade thus deep, make not Heaven seem afable.
But loe! the sacred spirit here, descends
Unto our understanding, and commends
This inexpressive paradise, and even
As it were by reflection showes us Heaven,
Which he a sumptuous City calls, Built on
And by Christ Jesus the true corner stone,
Not made with hands, the Citty is foure square,
East, West, North, South
Gates Aequidistant are.
Length, height, breadth, depth, do all conspire to be
The uniforme of perfect Symetrie.
Twelve gates there are of most magnificent state,
Made of twelve Pearles, Of every Pearle a Gate,
And as twelve gates of twelve rich Pearles; so here
Twelve rich foundations, of twelve gemms appear:
The
Sardus, Saphir, and the
Sardonix,
The
Topas, Iasper, and
Iacynth are six.
The Berill, Emerald,
and Chalcedonite,
Chrysoprasus, Amethis, and Chrysolite;
Make up the four times three, whose sparkling light
Banish all possibility of might.
The stately streets, all along as ye passe,
Are pav'd with Gold, transparent as pure glasse,
[Page 118] Through which, the silver streames of life convey
Their Christal Currents, whilst in rich array,
On either side this glittering
Tagus stand
The trees of life, whose boughs bow to the hand,
There's neither
Sun, nor
Moon in that bright spheare,
Hee that lent them their light himselfe shines there.
There's none that watch, nor none that guard relieves,
What need there? since theres neither night, nor theeves.
Theres nothing grieves, no being all amort,
Darkness and
Death, are strangers in that
Court.
Envy, Backbiting, Malice,
and Disgrace,
Sorrow and
Sickness, dwell not in that place,
VVithout are dogs, nothing that is uncleane
Hath any part, in that
Celestiall Scene.
But Meekness, Faith,
and joy,
and Cordiall love,
Such are the starres, in that bright orb
[...] that move.
There they for ever feast their Eyes on thee,
On whom one glance, eternall life would be.
How shall I hope sufficiently t'admire
Those living powers, in thy
Celestiall quire?
Those thousand thousands that attend upon
The radiant throne, of thy all glorious Sonne?
Angells, Archangels, Cherubins,
and Thrones,
Amazing
Seraphins, and Dominions?
Which in thy highest presence allwayes sitt,
Enjoying happ'nesse next to infinite.
Any of which descending from his story;
Would exstacy, and kill us with his glory.
Here close your lids my daring eyes, least yee,
Where angells hide thier faces, be too free:
Lord how I reach, and roame t'uncurtaine heaven;
Whilst I am even of mine own self bereaven?
[Page 119] O take these fetters! take these clogs from mee;
Take these scales from mine eyes, that I may see
Thy tabernacle, Thy Hierusalem;
VVel thou heavens Monarch, hast prepar'd for them
That love, and feare thee: Ah me! when shall I
Come and appeare before thy Majesty?
VVhere ere thou beest, let me but see thy face;
I'le ask no other heaven, no other place:
If thou discend into th' abysse below,
My soule shall wish no other heaven to know:
VVhere thou art, heaven is: 'tis not the resort
Of Courtiers: But the King, that makes the Court,
Thus have I taken paines, to shew ye that,
VVhich is, I must confesse,
I know not what.
M
[...]ie
THis afternoon
I met the tribe of
Gad,
Running through Bedlam as they had been mad
Shufling and shouldring at so strange a rate,
As if they strove to enter the strait gate.
VVith that seeing the conflux of the traine
I could not choose but mak't
Turne againe Lane,
And down the stream making my armes, my Oares
I row'd to
Moore fields, where I found more whores
Gentle, and simple, then a man could meet,
Either in Turn ball, or in Turn up Street.
Satting and Silk, and Peticoats brocado
Marcht like an Amazonian armado,
Furious as your French troops, scarce ere a wench
But by her out side, shew her inside French.
[Page 120] Some zealous Gitt'zens shew their wives, that even
By being Cuckolds, they might go heaven.
It made me laugh to see their sweeping trailes
In spite of Barbars puffes, powder their trailes.
O how the leacherous dust did vaught! and rise
Twixt the crosse Chevernes of their foaming thighs.
So light were they, so given to the
Tup
VVhat men would not, the very winds took up.
VVith that said I, now too too well perceive I,
Y'are not the tribe of
Gad alone, But
Levi.
Meane while the trees in such even order grow,
They seem'd a second
Pater noster row.
They raild in-grasse-plot as a spacious shop
Of Summer weeds for Virgins was set ope.
And many gallants came from out the towne
Thither, to give their Ladies a green-Gowne.
Here is great wrastling, Boyes, and men, and all
And here and there a woman takes a fall;
Venter on which you please, if men you like,
Know then they sayle close by the Wind mil strike.
If you from men, to women be departers,
You shall not faile to meet them in the quarters.
And therefore if your purpose that way stand
Goe see for them, when you can
[...]t see your hand
And to your work (my friend) tis Country play
Not by the belt but felt, catch that catch may.
Be not discourag'd for the duskie night
Bee't nere so dark, Ile warrant you a light.
More of
Moore-fields if you desire to know,
Faith I have ta'ne my turne: And so must you.
Vpon the Sickness, and recovery of a faire and fairely promised LADY.
BUt hadst thou Death such hopes alive,
Thy sute could ever thrive,
In flatt'ring her
T'her Sepulher,
From her approaching bridall bed,
Ala
[...]lthy hopes are dead.
Dead as thy selfe
Unwelcome elfe,
But would you faine forestall, forsooth
The sweets of bloomy youth?
Your sute is cold
And you too bold.
Suffice it long time hen
[...]e that thou
Bath in her aged snow,
Couldst thou her send
To thy dark bed?
Her orient Eye would shoot a ray
Should make thy midnight day;
As though the Snn
Did thither run,
And all his rutilous Jewells set
In that close Cabinet.
Then should mourni
[...]n
See joyes morning.
Then palest ashes should revive
And Death be made alive.
VVhilst we, blind wee,
If wee would see.
From flintie bosomes strike.
But thanks to Heaven,
Death is bereaven:
Th' Eclipse is past, and beauties light
Ha's banisht dead of night.
See, see the love.
Of heaven above.
For we have here Gods blessings got
And the warme Sun to boot.
O let us now
Low as earth bow;
And gratefull sacrifices give,
To him that here said, let her live.
To a Gentleman desiring mee to write a Paper of Verses upon his sitting whilst the Painter was drawing his Picture.
ANd Poet too? must you your figure see
In silent, and in speaking poesie?
I could admit this double task, in case
You had like
Ianus too a double face.
Say, is it your desire? whilst he does take
Your superficiall lineaments, I should make
Your vertues image? Is it this you mean?
I must like
Momus have a Casement then.
Or feare you men will say you are a creature.
Narcisus like in love with your own feature?
And therefore have the
Painter to produce.
A colour: And the Poet an excuse:
[Page 123] Come be adv
[...]is'd by mee, go to your wife,
He warrant you your Picture to the life.
Here you compose your countenance, And set.
Whilst't may be shee's drawing your counterfeit.
Come the true way of lively li
[...]e commanding
Is never done by sitting, But by standing.
‘
Pers.—Pictoribus atque Poet is Quidlibet audiendi semper fuit aequa potestas.’
To an impudent Scold that perpetually haunts her Husband, and not only abuseth him but what soever Company is with him.
WOman (but may I call the so, and not
Forfeit that little judgment
I have got?
Is't not enough y
[...]re uglie, but beside
Your ill shape you must be ill quality'd?
I had suppos'd that such a one as you
Whose face a winning feature never knew
A woman (if that appellation may
Be yet allow'd) made of the cour
[...]st clay:
And of a fabrick so imperfect as't
Is well concluded nature was in hast.
I had suppos'd
I say, that such a brute,
Had cause more then enough to have been mute
At least shee should if shee had silence broke.
With
Balams A
[...]e but once, and wisely spoke,
But you unlock the thunder of your voice,
And twenty Iron Mills make not more noyse.
VVhen you beg in the clamou
[...] of your prate
You make the rabulous r
[...]t at Billings-gate.
[Page 124] Mute as their Fish: VVere you my wife forsooth,
I should lock up the Barn-doores of your mouth.
Or ferret-like, sow't up, My wife said I?
Some Planet first dispatch me from the s
[...]ie.
I
[...]de ransack beds of clay, and light upon
The Devill in a new fal lne sceleton.
Or what in man, or Hells invention w
[...]s is
Them think of the, Of thee thou curse of Curses.
O wretch thy Husband, O infortunate.
I drowne mine Eyes in sorrow for his
[...]ate.
I finde in story an inchanted Las
[...]e
All day a Hagge: All night an angell was
His luck poor man is worse, for meeting you
Hee's haunted with a Hagge day and night too.
For when abroad in this sad plight he goes
Seeking some corner to unbreast his woes;
You follow him hot foot, and rang
[...]e about
Beating all bushes till you finde him out.
And when hee once but in your sight appeares,
You spend, And with full cry confound his eares,
And ours too, who admire what you intend him
VVhether to bait him, or to apprehend him.
Thus like
Act
[...]on with affrights hedg'd round
Hee flyes the furie of his owne feirce hound.
We know your language you Tartarian whore
That use to play bo-peep at Tavern dore.
Peaking for pimping rascalls, and when ere
Y
[...] feare discovery, what's my Husband her
[...]:
Thus you obstreperous strumpet, Thus you must
Make your poore Husband cloak for your base lust.
Come, come, the provetb yet did never faile.
They that are quick of tongue, are quick of taile.
And I too plainly see, (though I am loth
To be too publick) you are quick of both.
He blast you with cont
[...]mpt if ere you come
To ask for Husband henceforth in my roome.
[Page 125] And teare your tongue from roofe and roots if ere
I heare againe, What is my Husband here.
And to the Company speak a word unmeet
Wee'l kick you through the Gantlet of our feet.