POEMS, Written by the RIGHT HONORABLE WILLIAM EARL OF PEMBROKE, Lord Steward of his Majesties Houshold.
WHEREOF Many of which are answered by way of Repartee, BY S r BENJAMIN RƲDDIER, KNIGHT.
With several Distinct POEMS, Written by them Occasionally, and Apart.
LONDON, Printed by Matthew Inman, and are to be sold by James Magnes, in Russel-street, near the Piazza, in Covent-Garden, 1660.
To the Right Honorable CRISTIANA, COUNTESS of DEVONSHIRE, DOWAGER.
MADAM,
IT will be no small addition to all your great Titles and other Excellencies, that you have been so careful to preserve, & now command to be published, these elegant Poems; Neither could your Ladiship have employed one that would bave more willingly obeyed your Commands, I having been obliged to that Honorable [Page] Family, not only by descent, but am by many favours now bound to that Person, who is Heir to all their Virtues as well as Fortunes. The Church that covers his sacred ashes, must submit to time, and at last lye buried with him; But this Monument that your Ladiship hath erected to his memory, will out-last the Calculation of all Astrologers; who though they could foretell the time that he should leave us, could set no Date to the Fame that he should leave behind him; which, though it have lain aslecp in all this noise of Drums and Trumpets, when all the Muses seemed to be fled, and to have left nothing behind them, but a few lame Iambicks, canting at the corners of our desolate [Page] streets; yet they are now content to be awakened by your Ladiships command, & under your Patronage to come abroad, and meet, and salute that peace that gave them their first being, and to tell the World, that what-ever was excellently said to any Lady in all these Poems, was meant of you; and that the Poet himself being inspired by your Ladiship, you only that are extracted from an ancient and Royal Family, have the Right and power to give life and perpetuity to so noble a person.
MADAM,
Your most humble and obedient Servant,
JOHN DONNE.
JOHN DONNE.
TO THE READER.
IN the collecting of these Poemes (which were chiefly preserved by the greatest Masters of Musick, all the Sonnets being set by them) I was fain first to send to Mr. Henry Laws, who furnishing me with some, directed me for the rest, to send into Germany to Mr. Laneere, who by his great skill gave a life and harmony to all that he set; so that if by their wandering some [Page] be surreptitiously got into their company; or, if (the Author leaving no other issue but these of his brain) some of these Nymphs seem a little more wanton then the rest, of which there are but two or three Copies can be suspected, they desire that they may not make their retreat, untill the next Impression; and then you will find many more ready to supply their room, which were not come unto my hands when I published these.
EARLE OF PEMBROKE, Lord Steward: SONNET.
CAn you suspect a change in me,
And value your own constancy?
O! no; you found that doubt in your own heart:
Where Love his images but kiss'd,
Not grav'd; fearing that dainty flesh would smart,
And so his painful Sculpture would refist;
But wrought in mine without remorse,
Till he of it thy perfect Statue made
As full of sweetness as of force.
Onely unkindness may the work invade,
And so it may defac'd remain
But never can another form retain.
[Page] While we dispute our liberty
I have lost mine;
And which is worse, incline
To love that slavery:
Not the great Charter, nor King's-Bench can free
Me from the Chain, wherein my thoughts she tied:
For our dull Earth what care is had we see,
Yet easily let our mind
Into more thraldom slide.
O that she were but kind!
To give for that a pledge;
There were my Law, and there my Priviledge.
Dear, can you take my soul from me,
And yet have no belief
That I have grief?
Oh did your fair eies ever see
(Without a painful force)
That sad divorce!
The Soul and Body love like me,
Not you; the Evening kind,
The morning of another mind,
And every several hour
Slack, and increase that power.
They are by Love made perfect One:
No less then Death makes them become Alone.
When the resistless flames of my desire
Make
Aetna of my heart,
And I enrag'd, impart
[Page 3] The torments unto you, and press
For pity in this violent distress;
You sing, & think I feign this fire.
Because one frown of yours can all controul,
Wrong not my pains; you are the true
Higher part of my soul,
The lower tyrant is to me, and slave to you.
Why do you give me leave to sip,
And pull the cup from my so thirsty lip
Before I drink?
Desire hath left my heart to think,
And is dispers'd in every outward part;
My hands, lips, eies,
That all restraint despise.
While it was in my heart
It did your will, in chains of slavish fears,
But these have all no ears.
P.
IF her disdain least change in you can move,
you do not love;
For while your hopes give fuel to your fire,
you sell desire.
Love is not love, but given free;
And so is mine, so should yours be,
[Page 4] Her heart that melts to hear of others mone,
to mine is stone;
And eyes that weep a strangers hurt to see,
joy to wound me.
Yet I so much affect each part
As caus'd by them, I love my smart.
Think her unkindness justly must be grac'd
with Name of chaste;
And that the frowns least longing should exceed,
and raging preed.
So can her rigour ne're offend
Except self-love seek private end.
'Tis Love breeds Love in me, and cold disdain
kills it again:
As water maketh fire to fret and fume,
till all consume:
None can of Love more free gift make,
Then to Loves self for Loves own sake.
I'le never digg in Quarry of an heart
to have, nor part,
Nor roast in those fierce eyes which alwayes are
Canicular.
VVho this way would a Lover prove,
Doth shew his patience, not his love.
[Page 5] A frown may be sometimes for Physick good,
but not for food:
And for that raging humour there is sure
a gentler cure.
VVhy bar you Love of private end,
VVhich never should to publick tend.
P.
I.
DIsdain me still, that I may ever love,
For who his love enjoyes, can love no more
The War once past, with Peace men Cowards prove,
And ships return'd, do rot upon the shore.
Then though thou frown, I'le say thou art most fair,
And still I'le love, though still I must despair.
II.
As heat's to life, so is desire to love,
For these once quench'd, both life & love are don;
Let not my sighs, nor tears, thy Virtue move,
Like basest Mettle, do not melt too soon:
Laught at my woes, although I ever mourn;
Love surfeits with reward, his Nurse is scorn.
Shall Love that gave
Latona's heir the foyle,
(Proud of his Archery, and
Pythons spoyle)
And so enthral'd him to a Nymphs disdain,
As when his hopes were dead, he full of pain,
[Page 6] Made him above all trees the Lawrel grace,
An Embleme of Loves glory; his disgrace.
Shall he, I say, be term'd a Foot-boy now,
That made all powers in heaven and earth to bow:
Or is't a fancy which themselves do frame,
And therefore dare baptize by any name,
A flaming straw, which one spark kindles bright,
And first hard breath out of it self doth fright;
Whose father was a smile, and death a frown,
Soon proud of little, and for less cast down;
'Tis so, and this a Lackey term you may,
For it runs oft, and makes but shortest stay.
But thou, O Love, free from times eating rust
That set'st a limit unto boundless Lust,
Making desire grow infinitely strong,
And yet to one chast subject doth belong;
Bridling self-love, that flatters us in ease,
Quickning our wits to strive that they may please.
Fixing the wandring thoughts of straying youth;
The firmest band of Faith, the knot of Truth:
Thou that didst never lodge in worthless heart,
Thou art a Master wheresoe're thou art.
Thou mak'st food loathsome, sleep to be unrest;
Lost labour easeful, scornful looks a feast.
And when thou wilt thy joies as far excell
All else, as when thou punishest thy Hell:
O make that Rebel feel thy matchless power,
Thou that mad'st
Jove a Bull, a Swan, a Shower;
Give him a love as tyrannous as fair,
That his desire go yoaked with despair.
[Page 7] Live in her eies, but in her frozen heart
Let no thaw come, that may have sence of smart.
Let her a constant silence never break,
Till he do wish repulse to hear her speak.
And last, such sence of error let him have,
As he may never dare for mercy crave.
Then none wil more capitulate with thee,
But of their hearts will yield the
Empire free.
R.
NO praise it is that him who
Python slew,
Love at his own try'd weapon did subdue;
To all clear minds it doth most clearly prove,
The greatest Monster of the two was Love.
O What a wretched power is tha
[...] and strange
To be invok't, which hath such power to change
Our heavenly part into a Beast, a Tree,
Things which sensual still, or sensless be,
He that so well is read in Loves brave story,
And is so jealous of his wayning glory;
How could he omit (like a young beginner)
Hercule the strong, Loves valiant Spinner.
But what boots it his famous acts to name,
When in them lyes concea'ld, his greater shame:
For this declares that (at his cheapest rate)
He alwayes makes a man effeminate.
And whosoever Loves, he down doth bring
From that he was, into some meaner thing,
[Page 8] Shews him ridiculous to standers by,
And quite bereaves him of perceiving why.
N
[...]w why should Love a Foot-boys place despise,
When higher then the Earth he doth not rise?
And I have often seen his Greatness trudge
In little Errands, like a worthless Drudge:
I will send him at any time a mile,
To fetch me thence the meaning of a smile,
A look, a not-look, a silence, a frown,
For Privatives hee'l lacky up and down;
Yet let no man believe what he doth say,
Fa
[...]se answers still he coyneth by the way:
'Tis well if he this title high can keep;
For where love cannot go, 'tis known hee'l creep:
And fit it is the Rule which he hath got
From Reason, by a base usurping P
[...]ot,
By under-means; should likewise be maintain'd,
Power evermore is held as it is gain'd.
Base Love, the stain of Youth, the scorn of Age,
The folly of a Man, a Womans rage,
Order's Consounder, Secret's light discloser,
Disturber of all sorts, a King's deposer;
The canker of a froward Wit, thou art,
The business of an idle empty heart;
The rack of jealousie and sad Mistrust,
The smooth and justifi'd Excuse of Lust;
The thief which wasts the taper of our life,
The quiet Name of restless jarres and strife;
The F
[...]ye which doth corrupt and quite distast
All happiness, if thou therein becast;
[Page 9] The greatest and the most conceal'd Imposter
That ever vain Credulity did foster:
A Mountebank, extolling trifles small;
A jugler, playing loose (not fast) with all.
An Alchimist whose Promises are Gold,
Payment but Dross, and Hope at highest sold.
This, this is Love, and worse then I can say,
Where he a Master is, and bears the sway,
He guides like
Phaeton, burns and destroys,
Parches and stifles what else would be joys.
But when clear Reason sitteth in the throne,
Governs his beams (which otherwise are none
But darts and mischief) then sun like he
Doth actnate produce, ripen and free
From grossness those good seeds which in us lye,
Till then (as in a grave) and there would dye.
All high Perfections in a perfect Lover,
His warmth doth cherish, and his light discover:
He gives an even temper of delight
Without a minutes loss; no fears affright,
Nor interrupt the joyes such love doth bring,
Nor no enjoying can dry up the spring.
Unto another he lends out our pleasure,
That (with the use) it may come home a treasure.
Pure lynk of bodies, where no lust controuls
The fatness and security of souls;
Sweetest path of life, Virtue in full sail,
Fresh budding hope, whose fruit doth never fail.
To this, dear Love, I do not Rebel stand,
Though not employed, yet ready at command.
But as for him who in his fit did curse
And rave at me, I cannot wish him worse
Then he already doth appear to bee,
Full of distemper in extream degree:
In this hard state he rather needeth prayer,
His strong deluded fancy to repair.
Wherefore O
Reason high, thou who art King
Of the worlds King, and dost in order bring
The wilde affections which so often swerve
From thy just Rule, and Rebell Passion serve.
Thou, without whose light Loves fire is smoke,
Puts out eyes and mind, all true sense doth choke;
Restore this man unto himself again,
Send him a lively feeling of his pain;
Give him a healthy and discerning taste
Of food, and rest, that he may rise at last
By strength of thee, from this strange strong Disease,
Wherein the danger is, that it doth please.
What help for him who takes his sickness part?
It must be only thy great work, and art.
Provide him also of thy sober hand,
A thrifty course of breath, which long may stand:
Least he in sighes do prodigally spend,
Before one loving Moon do change and end,
More then would find him life for many years,
If he were rid of these false-seeming fears.
Grant this, O
Reason, at his deep request,
Who never lov'd to see thy power supprest.
And now to you, Sir
Love, your love I crave;
Of you no Mast'ry I desire to have:
But that we may like honest friends agree,
Let us to
Reason fellow-servants be.
P.
IT is enough, a Master you grant
Love
At one weapon, 'twas all I sought to prove:
For worth, not weakness, makes him use but one;
While that subdues all strength, all Are alone.
I studied not examples in this kind,
They were far harder to avoid, then find:
And that to worthless forms Love changeth us,
Makes not him blush, not his ridiculous.
For in his VVars Love diversly proceeds,
Sometime by force, sometime by sleight he speeds.
VVhen he will force, then arms he his to fight
In strength of merit, riches of delight.
But when by stratagems he means surprise,
His men in forms more mean he will disguise:
Not bearing to the forms themselves respect,
But careful to avoid his foes suspect:
And when as this with jests their wits are worn,
Do Lovers or the Laughers bear the scorn?
But O! how finely with your self you play,
VVhen with this quick conceit you run away;
That you make love to Lacky up and down,
To fetch the meaning of a smile, or frown:
[Page 12] Alas, in these slight Errand; he sends you,
VVherein your Powers trudge as if they flew,
Making the least which to his pleasure tends,
A thing wherein your weal or wo depends.
Nor Plots he to dissolve by feign'd delight,
Over the Senses Reasons Sovereign right;
But Reason finding Love to rule more fit,
She doth that Government to him commit;
And so 'twixt these there is no factious strife,
Love here the husband is, Reason the wife;
Not grudging at her husband's active sway,
But thinks she rules so just laws to obey:
And Love this title high thus got may keep,
A thred-bare Proverb cannot make him creep.
And for that rabble of confused Names,
VVhich to Love's charge you lay, as bitter blames,
They touch not him, he in himself divine,
To falshood nor to weakness can encline;
If not disfigured by our fleshly mask,
As VVine corrupted by a faulty eask.
He is no Mountebanck, his wares do reach
Beyond the setting forth of any speech,
Nor
Alchimist, but that Elixar old,
Which turns Lust's Mercury to friendship's Gold.
And so the rest wherewith you stain his Name,
Will turn considered rightly to his fame.
I do not sever Love from Reason's law,
But say that they in one sweet yoak do draw;
Nor let your wit dissention strive to make,
VVhen they in joynt command such pleasure take.
[Page 13] As for the joys which from these join'd do flow,
To be beyond expression I do know;
So may they fall on you from Love's large hand,
If to this Love you do not Rebel stand,
And we in one Opinion shall agree,
If both, to both, may fellow-servants be.
For me if Skeptick like you will dispute,
And what I feel in heart, with words refute,
Go on, and laugh at Loves commanding fire,
Till you cannot your scorched self retire.
My Curse a Blessing was, your Prayer a Curse,
For not to love, then scorn in love is worse.
O let sighs prodigally spend my breath,
My sufferings doubled be, until my death;
So but in one kind look they her engage,
One hour so liv'd, is longer then an age.
R.
NOt like a Skeptick equally distract,
Nor like a Sophister of sleights compact,
Nor to vie Wit (a vanity of youth)
Nor for the love of Victory, but Truth,
The lists again I enter, bold assur'd,
Within my Causes right, strongly immur'd.
Man unto man both Text and Comment is,
They that best read this Character of his,
His body, and they that most understand
The sence thereof (his soul) do both command.
[Page 14] This as a firme rule infallibly true,
Not to be chang'd for one more weak, more new;
That Reason holds the head, and highest part;
The Affections lower are placed in the heart,
To shew that they must serve and still obay;
Reason must Ruler be, and bear the sway.
From this pure fountain see how pure the streams
Do run, from this bright Sun how fair the beams.
Anger w
[...]lst he a servant true persisteth,
Whetteth mild just
[...]ce sword, Valour assisteth:
But when his power to himself he taketh,
He nought but brauls & wars & slaughters maketh;
Furthereth revenge, injustice, wrong, and hate;
Nothing but blood his sury can abate:
And that but for a while, for hot and dry,
He thirsteth oft, as oft for blood doth cry.
And so of all the affections of the mind,
VVhen them wee do in due obedience find,
Great helpes they are, and ministers of good,
But else to vice a fierce and headlong brood.
VVhat priviledge beyond the rest hath Love;
Shew his exemption, and his freedom prove:
Is he no Affection? then is he worse:
A Passion, the bodies waster, minds curse.
As long as he to Reason yields subjection,
He is the best and principall affection;
Effects most good, the cement, band and tye
Of humane fellowship, wherein doth lye
All the dear comforts which makes life a life:
VVithout whose influence, nothing but strife
[Page 15] VVould bring us together, or we should live
Stragling alone, and no account could give
That e're we had been here; with us would die
(Summ'd in our deaths) life of posterity.
VVhen best things are corrupt, they most are so;
Love once defected doth most Traitor grow,
And works 'gainst Reason with more violence
Then all the rest, and with more smooth pretence:
I need not here repeat, will not enlarge
His faults, I lothly take 'gainst Love that charge;
I onely say, that Reason is his King.
And Love at highest, is his underling.
You do confess, or truth doth it extort,
That Reason sovereign is, in dearest sort;
Committing unto Love the senses state,
VVhich shews Love's Power is but subordinate:
But then again, where you would end the strife,
Making Love the Husband, Reason the Wife,
You begin anew; Error hath no stay,
Runs infinitely on, but not one way;
Crosseth it self, findeth no resting place;
Appeareth alwaies with another face;
Increaseth faster, and doth multiply
Beyond the breed of any spawned fry.
Truth is still one, it's one center and end
Still like it self, and to it self a friend.
VVho gave the soul's Abstract, Intelligences,
Bodies and Sex (nearer to bring the senses
Acquainted with them, and their high enjoy)
Made love a lasting and perpetual Boy;
[Page 16] Still in minority, never of age,
Because to govern he is most unfit,
By Non-age fair excuse they him acquit.
Nature's best observers, the wise
Egyptians
In their abstruse and mystical descriptions,
Did of each Element two Sexes frame,
Which yet (for Marriage sake) had but one name:
Of Fire the Mast'ring heat, they made the Male;
The Female, what was flaming, weak and pale:
Of Ayr, the Man was active, busling wind,
The rainy weeping Clouds of Woman-kind;
The deep and boundless Sea was
Masculine,
The shallow slender Rivers
Feminine;
Of Earth the constant Rocky part was he,
The gentle yeilding tilled vein a she.
So in the Soul, Understanding, and Will,
Betwixt themselves hold such proportion still,
As Male and Female: He strongly imprints
Upon her easiness, she never stints,
But streight pursues with ready inclination,
Or quickly shuns with shrinking aversation,
As is the object he begets on her,
So her desires do duly move and stir.
What else is reason (to be more exact)
But the redoubled and reflected act
Of Understanding? what th' affections?
But the agitations and ejections
Of Will where love is one; as all may see
To Reason born a servant by degree.
[Page 17] If you in ought conformity had held
With Natures course, and not 'gainst all rebell'd,
But Reason Husband, Love for VVife had meant,
I streight to be at peace had given consent;
Not thought it strange, but should been well apaid,
That Reason now had marryed her Hand-maid,
In hope that she in duty for that honor
VVhich he in grace had thus bestow'd upon her,
VVould strive by all obedience to appear
More lovely in his eyes, and still more clear.
Thus having made it safe, That every way
Love must as a servant, or as a wife obey,
I here might rest against Truth's brazen wall,
And not regard the drops which on it fall.
Yet will I wipe away, as they do lye,
Some spots, which you have dasht in passing by;
And first, That Love doth hurt and overthrow,
Doth him no Master make, but Monster show;
A Master's strength preserves, a Monsters spoyles,
It is the use that Force from Vice assoyles:
Strange things of wars and stratagems you tell,
And little business with great words doth swell:
What helps 'twixt truth and me this grave formality,
Love is a sneaking corner-seeking quality,
Which hates the light, chuseth false times & shapes,
To make his drifts to cover his escapes;
And when he is discryed, his vizard torn,
He proves a lucky jest, a fertile scorn.
Love sends rot me, nor need I vainly go
To fetch the meanings which I alwayes know,
[Page 18] Her single heart is one, and one to me
Dares shew it self, it is so clean, so free;
From thence such warrant have I of her smiles,
That I mistrust them not for glittering wiles;
But know when the deep channel of her heart
With joy is over-fill'd, it doth impart
Some to the banks, and flows into her face,
Which leavs thereon a fresh and springing grace.
Her frowns I know not what, nor that they are,
When Reason rules, Love feasts on no such fare;
Tasts nought but what is pure, and truly sweer,
Then bodies do but bring the souls to meet.
VVho light shines through, and all within discovers,
No thought lies hid 'twixt such beloved Lovers;
Sly reservations, shuffling excuses,
Minced favours, made frowns, welcom abuses
Lose then their use, and have at all no place,
When Love is Master, they have onely grace.
A Proverbs proof is not so soon put off
By slight neglect, or by a mighty scoff;
Whose truth his life hath hitherto maintain'd,
And through so many ages credit gain'd;
They are the Quintessence of Truths, extract
From vulgar use, and of such strength compact,
That they have liv'd (indeed) in living men,
Since many volumns writ by mortal pen
Are dead and gone, and more to ruine tend,
Whilst these from Sire to Son do still descend,
Nor needs it as a fault be here excus'd,
That I exprest a Nature most confus'd,
[Page 19] In terms so like it self, for Love once gone
From Reason, hath no hold to rest upon.
But our unseas'ned flesh you rather blame,
Which unto me doth just appear the same,
As if you should condemn the Mice, not Swine,
VVho love to wallow there, and think it fine.
Likewise the friendship which such love doth breed,
Doth end in hate both of themselvs, and deed:
VVhen ever you can Love to Reason marry,
I will not from that happy wedding tarry;
So that you sex them right by natures law,
But yield them all the service, fear, and awe,
VVhich unto such a King and Queen belong,
VVhose force will so united grow more strong.
I mean not to deny, had rather cure
The pangs your heart infected doth endure;
And for Love's scorching fits I fear them nor,
Reason or
Love shall be my antidote,
But not to love, then scorn in love is worse:
This baseness is to man, the greatest curse,
A scorn no being hath, cannot proceed
From an inferior in word or deed:
How can we so unman our selves, and fall
Beneath that creature which was made of all
Next under us, to be more evident,
Who stands as he was born, cannot consent.
Bad usage soon would force my heart to turn,
And made the fire of
Love to anger burr;
But you do all so willingly abide,
As that your ease would be the sicker side.
[Page 20] A small reward will you contentment give,
When but a
Phoenix death you wish to live,
Where may you burn in flames both short & sweet,
Thus since our wills will not our Prayers meet.
P.
MEn sad and setled, love not to contend,
Dispute my wounds may vex, but never mend;
If Love had pleas'd I might have tasted joy
In as full measure as I prove annoy:
But Princes shew on some their Power, their Grace
On some, and both without controul do place.
Me for the first, O me Love kept in store,
When to that cruel Fair he gave me o're,
In whom all worth so eminent appears,
As her disdain the style of justice bears;
And thus with me Love plaid a Master-part,
When with one choice he hurt & pleas'd my heart.
For then I am, let me more wretched prove,
If her (howe're unkind) I leave to love;
Thus to be fond of scorn, you sickness call,
In truth 'tis I, to love my Lord am thrall;
'Tis he that makes me find these wonders true,
And he may work the same as well in you;
For even in your sound health I find this strife,
Love late was
Reasons Lackey, now his wife:
But to conclude debate, whilst you are free,
You may make
Love even what you list to be,
[Page 21] As those that will describe an unknown Land,
Place Cities, Rivers, Hills where none do stand;
Even so you deal with Love, and streight will know
How far he shoots, that never felt his bow;
One day you may, and then confess with me,
You love his Fetrers more then to be free.
R.
NOr will I now your wound exulcerate,
But rather grieve at your deplor'd estate;
Yet must I not my self so much forsake,
As not to shew wherein you me mistake.
For Peace and you I was content to find,
How
Love and
Reason might be near combin'd,
But not their natures alter or confound,
Nor I remove at all from my first ground
Of due obedience which just
Love doth owe
To
Reason, thought it should to highest grow.
'Twas not well done of you thus to object,
That which I did for you in your respect;
Beside, your argument is drawn amiss,
From that which may be, unto that which is.
I did not
Love for
Reasons wife avow,
But onely gave it possible, and how
That I am dis-engag'd, untoucht, and free,
Makes me of
Love the fitter judge to be;
Self-interest doth so corrupt and blind
The clearness quite, and sadness of the mind,
[Page 22] That Justice still to it hath born a grudge,
Nor Law allows a party to be Judge;
In what we earnest are, our selves we leese,
A loo
[...]er on more then a gamester sees.
To say my heart was maym'd in
Cupid's Wars,
And pitty begg by shewing of my skars,
Or tell what losses I have had by fire,
Doth sure a weaker heart then mine require▪
Yet have I lov'd, and may do so again,
A strong lynk I have been in that fair chain
Which you a fetter call, and rightly too,
But that a breaking lynk did me undo;
You pierce me deep to say I never lov'd,
When it by so much truth hath been approv'd;
Yet for all this we will not disagree,
Each lover thinks none ever lov'd but he.
Sonnet. P.
I.
CAnst thou love me, and yet doubt
So much falshood in my heart,
That a way I should find out
To impart
Fragments of a broken love to you,
More then all, being less then due:
O no! Love must clear distrust,
Or be eaten with that rust:
Short love liking may find jarres,
The love that's lasting knows no warres.
II.
This belief begets delight,
And so satisfies desire,
And in them it shines a light,
No more fire;
All the burning Qualities appeas'd
Each in others joyning pleas'd;
Not a whisper, not a thought,
But 'twixt both in common's brought;
Even to seem two they are loth,
Love being but one soul in both.
Song. P.
I.
SOul's joy when I am gone,
and you alone,
which cannot be,
Since I must leave my self with thee,
and carry thee with me;
oh give no way to grief,
but let belief
of mutual love,
This wonder to the vulgar prove,
Our bodies not we move.
II.
Yet when unto our eyes
absence denyes
each others sight,
And makes to us a constant night;
when oaths change to delight,
Fools have no way to meet
but by their feet;
Why should our Day
Over our spirits so much sway,
To tye us to that way.
P. I left you, and now the gain of you is to me a double Gain.
DEar, when I think upon my first sad fall
From thy fair eyes, I needs must feel withall
The many widowed hours I since have numbred,
Which in wisht shades I might have safely slumbred,
Rock't into endless heavenly Trances, by
Thy soul inchanting-Graces harmony,
Whilst I enjoy'd not what I did possess,
But like an unthrift of my happiness,
Did not my loss (till 'twas too late) espye
As Children kill their birds, and after cry?
But since those Clouds that so eclip'st thy Light
(And gave my every day so many a night,
As my life had but a dead Winter been,
Had I no better after sun-shine seen)
Are fled, let us (thou best of me) redeem
Those hours we fondly did so dis-esteem:
And since past joyes are but bewail'd in vain,
Come and wee'l prove them over all again,
That small division so will come the meeter,
To make the Musick of our bliss the sweeter.
R. On the Countess of Pembrokes Picture.
HEre (though the lustre of her youth be spent)
Are curious steps to see where beauty went;
And for the wonders in her mind that dwell,
It lyes not in the power of Pens to tell.
But could she but bequeath them when she dyes,
She might enrich her Sex by Legacies.
P. That she is onely Fair.
DO not reject those titles of your due,
Which Natures Art hath stiled on your face;
The Name of
Fair onely belongs to you,
None else that title justly can embrace:
You Beauties heir, her Coat sole spotless wear,
Where others all, some mark abatement bear.
'Tis not their Cheeks touch't with Vermilion Ord,
Stain'd with the tincture of enchanting skill,
Nor yet the curl'd devices of their head,
Their brests display'd, their looks fram'd to their wil;
Their quick-turn'd-eye, nor all their proud attire,
Can make me their Perfections to admire.
[Page 27] All this done without Natures consent,
Thy beauty needs not Art's enticing aid;
Thine nature gave, theirs nature onely lent;
Thine shall endure, when theirs are quite decay'd:
Thy beauty others doth as much excel,
As Heaven base Earth, or Earth accursed Hell.
Others are fair if not compar'd to thee,
Compar'd to them, thy beauty doth exceed:
So lesser Stars give light, and shine we see
Till glorious
Phoebus lifteth up his head;
And then as things ashamed of their might,
They hide themselves, & with themselves their light
Since Natures skill hath given you your right,
Do not kind Nature and your self such wrong,
You are as fair as any earthly wight,
You wrong your self if you correct my tongue:
Though you deny (her and) your self your due,
Yet duty bids me
Fair entitle you.
P.
MUse get thee to a Cell; and wont to sing,
Now mourn, nay now thy hands, thy heart now wring;
And if perhaps thine eyes did ever weep,
Now bleed, and in eternal sorrow sleep;
O, she that was, and onely was, is gone,
And I that was but one, am left alone.
Who says that I for things ne're mine am sad?
That was all mine which others never had:
No sighs, no tears, no blood but mine was shed
For her that now must bless anothers bed:
As fate bound me, had Fortune made me free,
None had had her but I, she none but me.
O had not I been swallowed up with night,
Before I saw your sun, that glorious light,
Whose beams alone do onely comfort bring,
Where I still weep, had ever made me sing;
Now on a strange Horizon it doth rise
VVhere all do live, or else where each thing dyes.
P. A Sonnet.
HE that his mirth hath lost
VVhen comfort is dismay'd,
VVhose hopes in vain, whose faith is scorn'd,
VVhose trust is all betray'd.
If he hath held them dear,
And cannot cease to moan;
Come let him take his place by me,
He shall not grieve alone.
But if his smallest sweet
Be mixt with all his sower;
If in the day, the month, the year
He feel one happy hour:
Then rest he with himself,
He is no Mate for me:
Whose cheer is faln, whose succour void,
Whose hurt his death must be;
Yet not the wished death
That hath ne plaint, ne lack,
Which making free the better part,
Is onely Natures wrack:
Oh no! that were too well,
My death is of that kind,
That alwayes yeilds extreamest pains,
And keeps the worst behind,
[Page 30] As one that lives in show,
But inwardly doth dye,
Whose knowledge is a bloody field
Where all helps slain do lye:
Whose heart the altar is,
Whose spirit the sacrifice
Unto the Powers whom to appease,
No sorrows can suffice.
My fancies are like thorns,
On which I go by night;
My arguments are like an Host
That force hath put to flight.
My sence like passions spye,
My thoughts like ruines old
Of famous
Carthage, and of
Troy,
That
Synon bought and sold.
My Corn to Nettles, now
My field is turn'd to flint,
Where sitting in the Cypres shade,
I read this
Hyacinth.
The peace, the rest, the life
VVhich I enjoy'd of yore,
Came to that lot that by the loss
They might me sting the more.
So to unhappy men
The best frames to the worst;
O time, O place, O words, O looks
Deer then, but now accurst.
In
Was, stands my delight,
In
Is (and
Shall) my wo,
[Page 31] My sorrows fastened in the
Yea's,
My hopes hang in the
No.
I look for no relief,
Relief would come too late;
Too late I find, I find too well,
Too well stood my estate.
Then
Love where is thy favour,
That makes thy tyrements sweet?
VVhere is the Cause that men have thought
Their death through thee, but meet?
The stately chast disdain,
The secret thankfulness,
The Grace reserv'd, the common light
That shines through worthiness.
O that it were not so,
Or I it could excuse!
Oh that the wrath of jealousie
My judgement might abuse!
O frail unconstant Sex!
O Faith and trust in none!
No women Angels are, but lo,
My Mistris is a woman.
Yet hate I but the fault,
And not the faulty one,
Ne can I rid me of the bands
I which I lye alone.
I love, I like, whose like
By love was never yet,
The Prince, the Poor, the old, the yong,
The fond, or full of wit.
[Page 32] Here still remain, must I,
By wrong, by death, by shame;
I cannot blot out of my breast,
That Love wrought in her name:
I cannot set at nought
That I have held so dear;
I cannot make it seem so far,
That is indeed so near.
I do not mean henceforth
Such strange will to profess,
As one that could betray such troth
To build on sickleness:
But it shall never fail
That my Faith bare in hand;
I gave my word, my word gave me,
Both word and gift shall stand:
Since then it must be thus,
And this is all too ill,
I yeild me Captive to my course
My hard fate to fulfil.
The solitary woods
My City shall become;
The darkest Dens shall be my lodge,
In which I rest or run.
Of
Hebon black, my board,
The worm my feast shall be,
Wherewith my body shall be fed,
Till they do feed on me:
Of
N
[...]be my wine,
My bed of craggy Rock,
[Page 33] The Serpents hiss my harmony,
The screeching Owle my Clock.
My exercise nought else
But raging agonies,
My Books of spightful Fortunes foils
And doleful tragedies.
My walks the Parks of Plaints,
My prospect into hell,
Where
Sisiphus and all his Peers
In endless pains do dwell.
My Muse if any ask,
Whose wrathful state is such,
Dye ere thou let his Name be known,
His folly shows so much.
P. That Lust is not his Ayme.
OH do not tax me with a brutish Love,
Impute not Lust alone to my desire,
No such prophane aspersions ought to me
From you the sacred Author of my fire.
I seek your love, and if you that deny.
All joyes that you and all the world can give,
My love-sick soul would little satisfie;
Which wants your Grace, not food to make it live,
It is your better part I would enjoy,
[Page 34] Your fair affections I would call mine own;
'Tis but a prostitute, and bestial joye
Which seekes the grosse materiall use alone:
The towns not ours, the market place vnwon,
Nor do I her enjoy, whose heart's not mine,
Heart's Conquest is the worthy ambition:
Seal of our worth, as ravishment Divine,
Invincible to strength of humane hand,
Union Divine of mutual burning hearts,
VVhich both subdu'd, triumphing, both command
Sovereign delights, which God to man imparts.
Oh let me in this true joy happy be,
Or never may you be enjoy'd by me.
Verses made by Sir B. R,
OH faithless world, and thy most faithless part,
A woman's heart:
The true shop of variety, where sits
Nothing but fits
And feavers of desire, and pangs of Love,
VVhich toyes remove:
VVhy was she born to please, or I to trust
Words writ in dust.
Suffring her looks to govern my despair,
My pain for air;
And fruit of time rewarded with untruth,
the food of youth.
Untrue she was, yet I believ'd her eyes,
instructed spyes:
Till I was taught that Love is but a school
to breed a fool:
[Page 35] Or was it absence that did make her strange,
base flower of change?
Or sought she more then triumphs of denial,
to see a trial,
How far her smiles commanded on my weakness,
yeild and confess:
Excuse not now thy folly, nor her nature,
blush and endure
As well thy shame, as passions that were vain;
and think thy gain,
To know that love lodg'd in a womans brest,
is but a guest:
Sonnet. P.
WRong not dear Empress of my heart,
The merits of true passion,
With thinking that he feels no smart
That sues for no compassion;
Since if my plaints seem not to prove
The Conquest of thy Beauty,
It comes not from defect of Love,
But from excess of duty.
For knowing that I sue to serve,
A Saint of such perfection,
As all Divine, but none deserve
A place in her affection.
I rather chuse to want relief
Then venter the revealing,
Where glory recommends the grief,
Despair destroyes the healing.
Thus those desires that climb too high
For any mortal Lover,
[Page 36] When Reason cannot make them dye,
Discretion doth them cover:
Yet when Discretion doth bereave
the plaints which I should utter,
Then thy Discretion may perceive
that silence is a suiter.
Silence in Love bewraies more wo
then words though ne're so witty;
The beggar that is dumb you know
may challenge double pitty.
Then wrong not dear heart of my heart,
my true, though secret passion,
He smarteth most that hides his smart,
and sues for no compassion.
P. That he will still persevere in his Love.
NAy, I must love thee still;
Be it for those good deeds thou hast done,
That thou hast lov'd me once, hath won,
And made me ever thine;
Though I am tempted and provok'd with scorn,
My Love cannot decline.
Though I with hopes, doubts, and despairs am torn,
Nay should I fret, think, grieve and dye
For thee, and know not why;
Yet I must love thee still.
[Page 37] Nothing removes my heart,
Ages that changes, and (slow things) move,
May wear my body, not my Love,
So fixt I am on thee,
That all thy spite cannot devise
A wrong to trouble me.
Alas I dote in all thy injuries,
Though all thy looks were feign'd, & thy sighs wind,
Though thy free vows thou should'st unbind,
Nothing could move my heart.
Nay I must
[...]ove thee, still
Love that wears, and into ashes goeth, in thee
Raiseth new bodies up in me:
I am
Love's wild-fire right,
Whose powerful temper'd flames being rightly bred,
Burns by his opposite.
Hopes kil, and violent despairs have fed
My passions, I have power to live and dye;
Nay, should it opposed destiny,
Yet I must love thee still:
P. A Sonnet.
DEar leave thy home and come with me,
That scorn the world for love of thee:
Here we will live within this Park,
A Court of joy and pleasures Ark.
Here we will hunt, here we will range,
Constant in Love, our sports wee'l change:
Of hearts if any change we make,
I will have thine, thou mine shalt take.
Here we will walk upon the Lawns,
And see the tripping of the Fawns;
And all the Deer shall wait on thee,
Thou shalt command both them and me.
The Leaves a whispering noise shall make,
Their Mufick-notes the birds shall take,
And while thou art in quiet sleep,
And the green wood shall silence keep.
And while my herds about thee feed,
Love's lessons in thy face I'le read,
[Page 39] And feed upon thy lovely look,
For beauty hath no fairer book.
It's not the weather, nor the air,
It is thy self that is so fair;
Nor doth it rain when heaven lowers,
But when you frown, then fall the showers.
One Sun alone moves in the skye,
Two Suns thou hast, one in each eye;
Onely by day that sun gives light,
VVhere thine doth rise, there is no night.
Fair starry twins, scorn not to shine
Upon my Lambs, upon my Kine;
My grass doth grow, my Corn and wheat,
My fruit, my vines thrive by their heat.
Thou shalt have wool, thou shalt have silk,
Thou shalt have honey, wine and milk;
Thou shalt have all, for all is due,
Where thoughts are free, and love is true.
P. A Sonnet,
DORON the sad Shepherds swain,
Who abroad had long time been,
Coming to those Fields again,
Where he
Cloris oft had seen.
With love and sorrow waxes faint,
None but his poor Curre and he,
As he on his sheep-hook't lean't,
It was his chance that bank to see.
Near a little pearling Brook,
Where the Mistress of his heart,
Leave of faithful
Doron took,
From her presence to depart.
He quickly found the ancient flame
Which had oft bereav'd his rest;
When back now to that place he came,
Where her eyes first pierc't his breast.
Looking on the Mead and Grove
VVhere her Heards are wont to brouze,
[Page 41] Faithful witness of his Love,
VVhich so oft had heard his vows.
VVhere he had seen his
Cloris merry,
VValking in the pleasant spring,
Tended by the Frisking
Fairy,
Dancing many a wanton Ring.
VVoods (quoth he) I saw you wooe her,
And as through your shades she past,
Humbly bowed your lops unto her,
VVith each little trembling blast.
I have seen this wandring-Will
Oft the silent murmur break,
And from the natural course stand still,
Ravished to hear her speak.
In these Meadows richly dight,
Gath'ring strowing for her bowers,
The bees are dazled in her sight,
Taking her blew veins for Flowers.
Stingless on her temples stuck,
Famine could not threaten death,
But their labour quite forsook,
For the sweetness of her breath.
I have seen the gentle wind
His most speedy course forbear,
[Page 42] And it wondr'ous sport to find,
In dallying with her braided hair.
Never did the morn awake her
If her self but once she showd,
But the birds would Musick make her,
Still to welcome her abroad.
Then poor shepherd Swain quoth he,
Let thy thoughts of her suffice,
It is to high a task for thee
To tell the wonders of her eyes.
O dear
Cloris then come to us,
Bless the Summer with thy sight;
Or thy absence will undo us,
For the world will half be night.
P. On one heart made of two.
IF that you must needs go,
What shall our one heart do?
This one made of our two.
Madam, two hearts we brake,
And from them both did take
The best, one heart to make.
It told me in your brest,
Where it might hope to rest;
For if it were my guest,
For certainly it knew,
That I would still a-new
Be sending it to you.
Half this is of your heart,
Mine in th' other part,
Joined by our equal art.
Were it cemented, or sown
By shreds or pieces known,
We each might find our own.
Never I think had two
Such work, so much to do
An Unity to woo;
Yours was so cold and chaste,
VVhilst mine with Zeal did waste,
Like fire with water plac't.
But 'tis dissolv'd, and fixt
So curiously, and mixt,
No difference is betwixt;
But shall we agree
By whom it kept shall be,
Whether by you or me?
How my heart did entreat,
How pant, how it did beat,
Till it could give yours heat;
Till to that temper brought,
With either's mixture wrought,
That blessing eithers thought.
It cannot two breasts fill,
One must be heartless still
Until the other will.
It was with me to day,
When I will'd it to say
With whether it would stay.
In such a heighth it lyes
From this base world's dull eyes,
That heaven it not envies.
[Page 45] All that this Earth can show,
Our hearts shall not once know,
For it too vile and low.
P. That he would not be belov'd.
DIsdain me still, that I may ever love,
For who his Love enjoyes, can love no more,
The war once past, with peace men Cowards prove,
And Ships return'd, do rot upon the shore:
Then though thou frown, I'le say thou art most fair,
And still I'le love, though still I must despair.
As heat's to life, so is desire to love,
For these once quench't, both life and love are done;
Let not my sighs nor tears thy vertue move,
Like basest mettles, do not melt too soon.
Laugh at my woes, although I ever mourn,
Love surfeits with rewards, his Nurse is scorn.
Benj. Rudier of Tears.
WHo would have thought there could have been
Such joy in
Tears wept for our sin!
Mine eye hath seen, my heart hath prov'd
The most and best of earthly joyes,
The sweet of love, and being lov'd,
Masks, Feasts, and Playes, and such like toyes.
Yet this one tear which now doth fall,
In true delight exceeds them all.
Indeed mine eyes at first let in
Those guests that did these woes begin:
Therefore mine eyes in tears and grief
Are justly drown'd, but that these tears
Should comfort bring, 'tis past belief.
O God, in this thy Grace appears;
Thou that mak'st light from darkness spring,
Mak'st joyes to weep, and sadness sing.
O where am I! what may I think!
Help, help, alas my heart doth sink:
Thus tost in seas of wo,
Thus laden with my sin,
Waves of despair dash in,
And threat mine overthrow.
Yet as at sea in storms, men choose
The ship to save, their goods to loose.
So in this fearful storm,
This danger to prevent,
Before all hopes be spent,
I'le choose the lesser harm.
My tears to seas I will convert,
And drown mine eyes to save my heart.
R.
O God! my God! what shall I give
To thee in thanks? I am and live
In thee; and thou dost safe preserve
My health, my fame, my goods, my rent:
Thou mak'st me eat, whilst others starve,
And sing, whilst others do lament.
Such unto me thy blessings are,
As though I were thine only care.
But oh my God, thou art more kind,
When I look inward on my mind,
Thou fill'st my heart with humble joy,
With patience, meek, and fervent love,
(All other loves which doth destroy)
With Faith which nothing can remove,
And hope assur'd of Heavens bliss:
This is my state, thy Grace is this.
Of Friendship.
FRiendship on earth we may as easily find,
As he the
North-East Passage, that is blind;
'Tis not unlike th' imaginary stone,
That tatter'd
Chymists long have doted on:
Sophisticate affection is the best
This age affords, no friend abides the test;
They make a glorious shew, a little space,
But tarnish in the rain, like Copper-lace.
Or nealled in affliction but one day,
They smoke, and stink, and vapour quite away.
We miss the true materials, choosing Friends,
On vertue we project not, but our ends.
So by degrees when we embrace so many,
We courted are like whores, not lov'd of any:
Good turns ill plac't, that we on all men heap,
Are seeds of that ingratitude we reap.
And he that is so sweet, he none denies,
Was made of honey for the nimble flies.
Choose one of two Companions of thy life,
Then be as true as thou wouldst have thy wife.
Though he live joyless that enjoys no friend,
He that hath many, payes for't in the end.
P. A Sonnet.
SAint did never yet object
Former knowledges defect
Against those whose zealous vows,
True devotion avows:
If my merit yet be small
To procure your love withall,
Time alone to you must prove,
How well I will deserve your love.
Grace in Saints ought to abound,
Grace ne're grows on merit's ground.
Be then gracious, as I true,
Constant and faithful unto you;
And my Fortunes that have crown'd
Me happy on that Reliques ground,
Shall be all ascrib'd to serve
You that do all praise deserve.
P. To his Mistress, of his Friends Opinion of her, and his answer to his Friend's Objections, with his constancy towards her.
ONe with admiration told me,
He did wonder much & marvel,
(As by chance he did behold ye)
How I could become so servile
To thy beauty, which he swears
Evry Ale house Lettice wears.
Then he frames a second notion
From thy revoluting eyes,
Saying, such a wanton motion
From their lustre did arise,
That of force thou couldst not be
From the shame of women free.
Then he blames the work of Nature,
'Cause she fram'd thy body tall,
Alledging that so high a stature
Was most subject to a fall:
Still detracting from thy worth,
That which most doth set thee forth.
So the
Buzzard Phoebus flies,
When the
Eagle's piercing eye
See those noble mysteries
Which adorn the azur'd skye;
Bravest objects so we find,
Strike the weaker judgements blind.
For I know thy native beauty,
Teaching Art her imitation;
Ows no mortal Power a duty,
But as free from alteration
(If not whiter) as the skin
Of the spotless
Ermylin.
And those Love-alluring Darts
Shot from thy tralucent eye,
To the knowing man imparts
Such an awful Majesty,
That each man may read the mirror
Of thy mind, and he his error.
If thy curious body's frame,
To thy making add no splendor,
Why adore we
Cynthia's Name,
And our Poets most commend her
When amongst her Nymphs she crushes,
Cedar-like 'mongst lower bushes.
But my
Julia I am sure,
Be thou low or high of stature,
[Page 52] Thou from blemish art, and as pure
As the yester-night-born creature;
And though blind men talk of light,
None can judge that wants his sight.
P. To his Mistris on his Death.
OH let me groan one word into thine ear,
And with that groan break all my vital strings;
Thou that wouldst never, now vouchsafe to hear
How
Leda's bird on sweet
Meander sings:
So dying tapers lend their fiery flashes,
And deadest Cinders have some burning ashes.
Those were the looks that once maintain'd my strength,
Those were the words that all my parts did cherish;
And what (Unkindest) wilt thou gain at length,
If by the same, I miserably perish:
This, that a frown did in a minute starve,
That which a smile did many years preserve.
B. R. his Ballet.
SInce every man I come among,
Sings praises of his choice,
I'le make my Love some pretty song,
Shee'l fit it for a voice.
As for descent and birth in her,
You see before you seek;
The house of
York and
Lancaster
United in her Cheek.
I have a Bracelet of her hair.
I have a ribon too;
The Fleece and Garter never were
Such Orders as these two.
My mind unto her once I broke,
And whisper'd in her ear
A tale of Love, an easie yoke,
Which far her betters bear.
And told her, if she lost that hour;
Her blossom would be dead;
She said she meant to keep that flower
To deck her wedding-bed.
I gave her homely Countrey Gloves,
She took 'um as th' were meant;
For those as well can show mens Loves,
As can a
Spanish scent.
I told her that poor modesty
Was out of fashion quite;
She said that proof look't like a lye,
And did my Reason slight.
I said the thing for which I woo,
Is pain and not desire;
She said 'twas work each man would do,
And take it for his hite.
So when those wayes I hop't would wean
Her from her fond intent,
The fool reply'd, she did not mean
To sin by president.
When mine eyes, first admiring your rare beauty,
Secretly stole the Picture of your face;
They, fearing they might erre, with humble duty,
Through unknown pathes, convey'd it to that place,
Where Reason and true Judgement hand in hand
Sate, and each workmanship of sences stand.
Reason could find no Reason but to love it,
So rich of beauty was it, full of Grace:
True Judgement scan'd each part, and did approve it
[Page 55] To be the model of some heavenly face;
And both agreed to place it in my heart,
VVhence they decreed it never should depart.
Then, since I was not born to be so blest,
Your real self fair Mistress to obtain,
Yet must your image dwell within my brest,
And in that secret Closet still remain:
VVhere all alone retir'd, I'le sit and view
Your Picture, Mistress, since I may not you.
R.
WHy do we love these things which we call Women,
Which are like Feathers blown with every wind,
Regarding least those which do most esteem them,
And most deceitful when they seem most kind;
And all the vertue that their beauty graces,
It is but painted like unto their faces.
Their greatest glory is in rich attire,
Which is extracted from some hopeful livers,
Whose wits and wealth are bent to their desire,
When they regard the gift more then the givers.
And to encrease their hopes of future bliss,
They'l sometimes stretch their conscience for a kiss.
Some love the winds that bring in golden flowers,
And some are meerly won with commendation;
Some love and hate, and all within two hours,
And that's a fault amongst them most in fashion:
But put them all within a scale together,
Their worth in weight wil scarce pul down a feather.
And yet I would not discommend them all,
If I did know some worth to be in any:
'Tis strange, that since the time of
Adam's fall,
That God did make none good, and made so many;
And if he did, for those I truly mourn,
Because they dyed before that I was born.
Why with unkindest swiftness dost thou turn
From me, whose absence thou didst truly mourn;
Of which thou mad'st me such a seeming view,
As Unbelievers would have thought it true.
We have been private, and thou knowst of mine,
(VVhich is ev'n all) as much as I of thine:
Dost thou remember? Let me callt' account
Thy pleasant Garden, and that leavy Mount,
Whose top is with an open Arbour crown'd.
Dost thou remember (O securest beauty)
Where of thy own free motion (more then duty)
And unrequir'd, thou solemnly didst swear,
(Of which avenging heav'n can witness bear)
[Page 57] That from the time thou gav'st thy spoils to me,
Thou wouldst maintain a spotless chastity,
And unprophan'd by any second hand,
From sport and Loves delight removed stand,
Till I (whose absence seemingly was mourn'd)
Should from a forreign Kingdom be return'd:
Of this thou mad'st Religion, and an oath.
But see the frailty of a womans troth;
Scarce had the sun (to many rooms assign'd).
Been thrice within the changeful waves confin'd,
And I scarce three dayes journey from thine eyes,
When thou new love in thy heart didst devise,
And gav'st the Reliques of thy Virgin-head,
Upon the easiest prayer that could be said.
Tis true, I left thee to a dangerous age,
VVhere vice in Angels shape does title wage
VVith ancient vertue, both disguising so,
That hardly weaker eyes can either know:
Besides, I left thee in the hour of fears,
And in the covetous spring of all thy years,
what time a beauty that hath well begun,
Asks other then the solace of a Nun.
But since thy wanton soul so deer did prize
The game, that thou for it didst underprize
Thy faith, and all that to good fame belongs;
Couldst thou not cover it from common tongues.
But cheapest eyes must see thee do amiss?
My Rhimes that won thee, never taught thee this:
Thou might'st have wandered in the pathes of love,
And neither leaf-less hill, nor shady grove
[Page 58] Have been unpressed by thy wanton weight,
Yet thou thought honest, hadst thou used slight.
Much care and business hath the chastest Dame
To guard her self from undeserved blame;
VVhat artifice and cunning then must serve
To colour them that just reproof deserve?
'Tis not a work for ev'ry woman's wit,
And the less marvel thou neglectedst it.
That which amazes me the most, is this,
That having never trodden but amiss,
And done me wrongs, that do as much deny
To suffer measure, as infinity:
When I approach, thou turn'st thy head awry,
As if sore eyes and scorn could satisfie,
Can second wrongs the former expiate,
And work them out of memory and date;
Or teach me ill in humane Precepts durst,
That second wrongs can expiate the first?
Thou art malicious, as incontinent,
And mightst have met with such a Patient,
Whose wronged vertue to just rage invited,
Would have reveng'd, and in thy dust delighted.
But I that have no gall, when once I love,
And whom no great thing under heav'n can move,
Am well secur'd from Fortunes weak alarms,
And free from apprehension, as from harms.
Thus do I leave thee to the multitude,
That on my leaving hastily intrude.
Enjoy thou many, or rejoice in one,
I was before them, and before me none.
A DIALOGUE.
MAN. P.
BE not proud, 'cause fair and trim,
But let those lips be basted,
Those eyes will hollow prove, and dim,
That lip and brow be wasted.
And to love, who'l be perswaded,
Sullyed Flowers, or beauty faded?
WOMAN. R.
Could Rose or Lilly purer be,
'Cause they smelt, or look't like me?
Yet pride should never reach my mind,
But beauty though it useless lye,
Is kept from stains by being laid by:
So'ts better to be chaste then kind.
MAN. P.
Oh thou art soft as is the air,
Or the words that court thee fair.
[Page 60] Then let those flames by Lovers felt,
That scorcht my heart, make thine to melt.
WOMAN. R.
Thy words are sweet as is deceit,
Sugred as the Lovers bait,
And do whisper in mine ear,
Love makes bargains sweet, but dear.
MAN. P.
Thou know'st not then that all the fair,
Give youth to Love, and age to Prayer▪
WOMAN. R.
Tis a Doctrine cannot be
Sound in you, or safe in me.
R. On black Hair and Eyes.
IF shadows be the Pictures Excellence,
And make them seem more lively to the sence;
If stars in the bright day are lost from sight,
And seem most glorious in the mask of Night;
Why would you think (rare Creature) that you lack
Perfection, cause your hair and eyes are black;
Or that your heavenly beauty that exceeds
The new-sprung Lillies in their Maiden-heads.
The damask colour of your cheeks and lips,
Should suffer by their darkness an Eclips:
Rich Diamonds shine brightest being set,
And compassed within a Foyle of Jet:
Nor was it fit that Nature should have made
So bright a sun to shine without some shade:
It seems that Nature when she first did fancy
Your rare Composure, studied
Negromancy,
That when to you this gift she did impart,
She used altogether the black Art;
By which infused Power from Magick took,
You do command all spirits with a look;
She drew those Magick Circles in your eyes,
And made your hair the Chain wherewith she tyes
[Page 62] Rebelling hearts; those blew veins which appear,
Winding
Meanders about either Sphere
Mysterious Figures are; and when you list
Your voice commandeth as the Exorcist.
Oh if in Magick you have power so far,
Vouchsafe me to be your Familiar.
Nor hath Dame Nature her black Art reveal'd
To outward parts alone, some lie conceal'd:
For as by heads of Springs men often know
The nature of the streams that run below;
So your black hair and eies do give direction,
To think the rest to be of that complexion;
That rest where all rest lies that blesseth man,
That Indian Mine, that Streight of
Magilon;
That world-dividing Gulf, where he that venters
With swelling sails, and ravisht sences, enters
To a new world of bliss. Pardon I pray,
If my rude Muse presumeth to display
Secrets unknown, or hath her bounds o're-past
In praising sweetness, which I never did taste:
Starv'd men do know there's meat, & blind men may
Though hid from light, presume there is a day.
The Rover in the mark his arrow sticks
Sometimes, as well as he that shoots at pricks:
And if that I might aim my shaft aright,
The black mark I would hit, and not the white.
BENJ. RƲDIER TO THE PRINCE At his Return from SPAIN.
SIR, such my fate was, that I had no store
T'erect a goodly Pile before my doore;
Nor were my Flagons tyr'd by being taught
Their several stages up and down the Vault,
Upon the great blest Day of your return,
Wherein nothing at all was seen to mourn,
Except it were the Heavens, and well they might,
Fearing our triumphs should outshine their light:
So open hearted men were, as 't'had been
No point of faith to think excess a sin.
The poor man trickt himself with wine that day,
And did not fear to make his Landlord stay;
The Tradesman shut his shop and did not care
For the retailing his neglected ware;
For well he knew there landed on the shore,
A prize that him and all the Isle might store.
[Page 64] The In-land liver that could never find
The east from west, but by a Church, nor wind
In his lives compass ever yet did know,
But that which to his Summer-fruit's a foe,
Was better learnt; and now he knew by art
What fill'd your sails, & what wind fill'd his heart:
I that have sence of blessings cannot show
In outward things, the joy that I do owe;
And thanks to heaven for your safe return,
Yet have a fire within them that do burn
As bright as theirs, which never shall decay
Till fate assign to me a further day.
R. Of deformity in a Man.
WHat if rude Nature hath less care exprest
About thy shape, or wantonly in jest
Compos'd thee? or maliciously in despight?
Or lame with her left hand, or without light?
Be but as bold, thou may'st as well find Grace,
As one that hath the most corrected face,
Or level'd trunck, whose neatness to beget
A Taylor, and a Barbers virtue met
Upon a Semster; for a woman's eye
Seldom betrayes her heart to Cemetry:
[Page 65] But some ill-favour'd thought, that bears more sway
To foulest hope, oft times prepares a way,
Either that beauty fairest doth appear
When some deformed obect's planted near:
Or Sovereignty (at which they chiefly aim)
Is then most absolute when men can claim
Least favour, he who hopes, or strives t' approve
His person, doth submit, and yeild to Love
Upon conditions; but that man whose state,
Himself consider'd, seems quite desperate,
Stoops to all usage, and will live, or dye
To serve, or suffer under tyranny.
Some of these Reasons, or some els unknown,
It may be more, or it may be none.
An Epitaph on the Countess of Pembroke.
VNderneath this sable Herse,
Lyes the subject of all Verse;
Syan
[...]y's Sister,
Pembroke's Mother:
Death, ere thou hast kill'd another,
Learned, fair, and good as she,
Time shall throw a dart at thee.
Marble Giles let no man raise
To her Name for after-dayes;
Some kind woman born as she,
Reading this (like
Niobe)
Shall turn Marble, and become
Both her Mourner, and her Tomb.
Sonnet. P.
BLind beauty! If it be a loss
To loose so poor a man,
As neither multiply nor cross
good or bad fortune can;
Then are you poorer then you were,
for I am gotten free;
Unwilling to acquaint your ear
with what your eye might see.
What needed words, when from mine eyes
such sparks of Love flew out,
That you might easily surmise
his fires were there about.
Though I forsook the beaten way,
the path in which I trod,
Such as know all Love's Countrey, say
was nearer then the Road.
The tongue did great exploits at first,
so did the Canon too;
But both those now have done their worst,
and no such wonders do:
As Engines of a naughty sort
for Love to use in fight,
After to make a loud report,
then carry to the white▪
I was a Lanthorn all of Love,
though of the closer kind,
[Page 68] Directing you which way to move,
When it did others blind:
And you might alwaies undescri'd
have walkt from place to place;
Had you not turn'd the shining side
backwards upon your face:
So since not want of light in me,
but that ill govern'd light;
Both made your self unapt to see,
And taught the blinde their sight:
Henceforth I'le close the Lanthorn quite,
To expiate that sin;
And seem without as dark as night,
though bright as day within.
Mark how you Eddie steales a way,
From the rude stream into the Bay:
There lockt up safe, she doth divorce
Her waters from the Channels course,
And scorns the torrent that did bring
Her head-long from her native spring.
Now doth she with her new Love play,
Whilst he runs murmuring away.
Mark how she courts the banks, whilst they
As amorously their armes display
T' embrace, and clip her silver waves;
See how she strokes their sides, and craves
An entrance there, which they deny;
Whereat she frowns, threatning to fly
Home to her stream, and 'gins to swim
Backward, but from the Channells brim
[Page 69] Smiling returns into the Creek,
With thousand dimples on her cheek.
Be thou this Eddie, and I'le make
My brest thy shore, where thou shalt take
Secure repose, and never dream
Of the quite forsaken stream;
Let him to the wyld Ocean haste,
There loose his Colour, name, and taste:
Thou shalt save all, and safe from him
Within these armes for ever swim.
Of Jealousie.
Qu. FRom whence was first this Fury hurl'd,
This Jealousie ino the world?
Came she from hel? No, there doth reign
Eternall hatred with disdain;
But she the daughter is of Love,
Sister of beauty.
Resp. Then above
She must derive from the third sphere
Her heavenly off-spring.
Ans. Neither there,
From those immortal flames could she
Draw her cold frozen pedigree.
Qu. If not in heaven, nor hell, where then
Had she her birth?
An: I'th hearts of men:
Beauty and Fear did her create
Younger then Love, elder then Hate;
Sister to both, by Beauties side
To Love, by Fear to Hate ally'd:
[Page 70] Despair her issue is, whose race
Of frightful issues, drowns the space
Of the wide Earth, in a swolne flood
Of wrath, revenge, spight, rage and blood.
Qu. Oh how can such a spurious Line
Proceed from Parents so divine?
Ans. As streams which from the Christal spring
Do sweet, and dear, their waters bring:
Yet mingling with the brackish Main,
Nor taste, nor colour they retain.
Qu. Yet Rivers 'twixt their own bancks flow
Still fresh; Can Jealousie do so?
Ans. Yes; while she keeps the stedfast ground
O hope, and fear, her equal bound:
Hope sprung from favour, worth, or chance,
Towards the fair Object doth advance;
Whilst fear as watchful Centinel,
Doth the invading foe repel;
And Jealousie (thus mixt) doth prove
The season, and the salt of Love.
But when fear takes a larger scope,
Stifling the child of
Reason, Hope
Then sitting in the usurped throne,
She like a tyrant rules alone;
As the wild Ocean unconfin'd,
And raging as the Northern wind.
P. Sonnet.
LAdies flee from Loves sweet tale,
Oaths steept in tears do oft prevail,
Grief is infectious, and the air
Inflam'd with sighs, will blast the Fair;
Then stop your ears when Lovers cry,
Least your self weeping with soft eye,
Shall with a sorrowing tear repay
That pitty which you cast away.
Young men flee when beauty darts
Amorous glances at your hearts;
A quick eye gives the surer aim,
And Ladies lips have power to maim:
Now in her lips, now in her eyes,
Lap't in a kiss, or smile, Love lyes:
Then flee betimes; for onely they
Do conquer Love, that run away.
Sonnet.
FYe that men should so complain
Of women for unkindness,
And accuse them of disdain,
when 'tis but their own blindness.
For though at first they do seem coy,
and use a faint denial;
It is not fit they should enjoy,
that can abide no tryal:
Constant Love is like to Fire,
that being opprest, burns clearer,
And women know when they retire,
It makes true Love love dearer:
How many favors should they miss,
what wooing and protesting,
Wer't not they use some art in this,
and feed them with contesting.
Women therefore wisely seem
at first the more disdainful,
Because they think that men esteem
that sweet, that's somewhat painful.
[Page 73] But henceforth learn, although they swear
And vow they cannot love you,
Do not believe them, never fear,
'Tis but their art to prove you.
P. SONG.
SAy pretty wanton, tell me why
Thou canst not love so well as I;
Sit thee down, and thou shalt see
That I delight in none but thee.
Say pretty wanton, be not coy,
For thou alone art all my joy:
If a smile thou wilt not lend,
Yet let thy gentle ears attend.
If thou stop those gentle ears,
Then look upon these brinish tears;
Which do force me still to cry,
Pitty me now, or else I dye.
Fairest fair, my Love, my Jewel,
Wilt thou never cease to grieve me?
Look and pitty, be not cruel,
Let thy love at length relieve me;
Stay and hear my tongue's sad speaking,
Words must keep my heart from breaking.
Long and deerly have I lov'd thee,
Love by right should be rewarded:
Words and Vows could never move thee,
Tears and sighs were not regarded.
Oh let Love cause some relenting,
Death succeeds thy not consenting.
P. A Sonnet.
SO glides a long the wanton Brook
With gentle pace into the main,
Courting the banks with amorous look,
He never means to see again.
And so does Fortune use to smile
Upon the short liv'd favorite's face,
Whose swelling hopes she doth beguile,
And alwayes casts him in the race;
And so doth the Fantastick boy,
The god of the ill-manag'd flames,
Who ne're kept word in promis'd joy
To Lover, nor to to loving Dames:
So all alike will constant prove,
Both Fortune, running streams, and Love.
P. Of a fair Gentlewoman scarce Marriageable.
WHy should Passion lead thee blind,
Cause thy
Lydia proves unkind:
She is too young to know delight,
And is not plum'd for
Cupid's flight:
She cannot yet in heighth of pleasure,
Pay her Love with equal measure;
But like a Rose new blown, doth feed
The Eye alone, but yeilds no Seed.
She is yet but in her Spring,
And bears no Fruit till
Cupid bring
A hotter season with his Fire,
Which soon will ripen her desire:
Autumn will shortly come and greet her,
Making her taste and colour sweeter;
And then her ripeness will be such,
That she will fall e'ne with a touch.
P. A Paradox, that Beauty lyes not in Womens faces, but in their Lovers Eyes.
WHy should thy look requite so ill
all other Eyes,
Making them Pris'ners to thy will,
Where alone thy Beauty lyes:
When men's Eyes first look't upon thee,
They bestowed thy Beauty on thee.
When thy Colours first were seen
By judging sight,
Had men's Eyes prais'd Black or Green,
Then thy Face had not been Bright:
He that lov'd thee, then would find
Thee as little fair as kind.
If all others had been blind,
Fair had not been;
None thy Red and White could find
Fleeting, if thou wert unseen.
To touch white Skins is not Divine,
Ethiops Lips are soft as thine.
P. A Lover to his Mistris.
THe purest piece of Nature is my choice,
this days breath,
and to morrow's death,
Have several dooms from her all-charming voice,
So beyond fair, that no glass can her flatter;
so sweetly mild,
that tongues defil'd,
Dare not on her their envious stories scatter.
The witty forms of beauty that are shed
in flaming streams,
from Poets theams,
Like shadows when her self appears, are fled.
O let me live in th' heaven of her bright eye▪
Great Love, I'le be thy constant Votary.
Description of a wisht Mistris.
NOt that I wish my Mistris,
Or more or less then what she is,
Write I these lines; for 'tis too late,
Rules to prescribe unto my fate.
But yet as tender stomacks call
For some choice meats that bear not all;
So a queazie Lover may impart
What Mistris 'tis must take his heart.
First, I must have her richly sped
With Natures blossoms, white and red;
For flaming hearts will quickly dye,
That have no fuel from the eye.
Yet this alone will never win,
Except some treasure lye within;
For where the spoyl's not worth the stay,
Men raise the siege, and march away.
I'de have her wise enough to know
When, and to whom a Grace to show;
For she that doth at random chuse,
She will her choice as soon refuse.
And yet methinks I'de have her mind
T' a flowing curtesie inclin'd,
And tender-hearted as a Mayd,
Yet pitty onely when I pray'd.
And I could wish her true to be,
(Mistake me not) I mean to me;
She that loves me, and loves one more
Wil love the Kingdom o're and o're.
And I would have her full of wit,
So she know how to huswife it;
But she whose insolence makes her dare
To cry her wit, wil sell more ware.
Some other things delight will bring,
As if she dance, or play, or sing;
If hers be safe, what though her parts
Catch ten thousand forreign hearts.
But let me see, should she be proud,
A little pride must be allow'd:
Each amorous Boy wil sport & prate
Too freely, where he sees no state.
I car'd not much if I let down
Sometimes a chiding or a frown;
But if she wholly quench desire,
'Tis hard to kindle a new fire,
To smile, to toy, 'tis not amiss
Sometimes to interpose a kiss,
But do not cloy; Sweet things are good
And pleasant, but are naught for food.
But stay! Nature hath over-writ my Art
In her, to whom I offer up my heart:
And Evening-Passengers shall sooner trace
The wanton beams that dance on
Thames smooth face;
And find the track where once the foot did stray
On the moist Sands, which tides have washt away;
Then men shall know my heart, or find her spot,
If a revolt of hers procure it not.
R, One that was a Suiter to a Gentlewoman more virtuous then fair, wrote these to a friend of his that disliked her.
WHy slights thou her whom I approve,
Thou art no Peer to try my Love,
Nor canst discern where her form lies,
Unless thou saw'st her with my eyes;
Say she were foul, or blacker than
The Night, or Sun-burnt
Indian,
Yet rated in my fancy, she
Is so as she appears to me:
[Page 82] It is not Feature, nor a Face,
That doth my free Election grace;
Nor is my fancy onely led
By a well temper'd white and red;
Could I enamour'd be on those,
The Lilly and the blushing Rose
United in one stock, might be
As dear unto my thoughts as she.
But I search farther, and do find
A richer Treasure in her mind,
Where something is so lasting fair,
That Art nor Age cannot impair.
Hadst thou a Perspective so clear,
That thou couldst view my object there;
When thou her vertue shall espye,
Then wonder and confess, that I
Had cause to like her; & learn thence,
To love by Judgement, not by sence.
The EPICURES Paradox.
NO, worldling, no; 'tis not thy Gold,
Which thou dost use but to behold;
Nor Fortune, Honor, nor long Lise,
Nor large Possession, without strife,
That makes thee happy, these things be
But shadows of felicity.
Give me a Virgin of Fifteen,
Already voted to the Queen
Of Lust and Lovers, whose soft Hair
Fann'd with the breath of gentle Air,
O▪respreads her shoulders like a Tent,
And is her Veil and Ornament,
whose tender touch would make the blood
Wyld in the Aged, and the Good;
Whose Kisses fastned to the mouth
Of threescore years, and longer sloath,
Renews the Age, and whose bright eye,
Obscures those lesser lights of Skye;
Whose snowy Breasts (if we may call
That Snow which never melts at all)
Make
Jove invent a new disguise,
In spight of
Juno's Jealousies;
Whose every part doth re-invite
The old decayed Appetite;
And in whose sweet embraces I
Might melt my self to lust, and dye.
This is true belief, and I confess
There is no other happiness.
Opporiunity neglected.
YEt was her Beauty as the blushing Rose,
And greedy passionate was my desire,
And Time, and Place, my reconciled Foes,
Did with my wish, and her consent conspire:
Why then o're-reachless of my Loves fruition,
So eagerly pursu'd with rough intent,
So dearly purchast with perform'd condition,
Kept I my rude Virginity unspent?
Did she not sweetly kiss? and sweetly sing?
And sweetly play? and all to move my pleasure?
And every dalliance use, and every thing,
And shew my sullen Eyes her naked Treasure?
All this she did, I wilfully forbore;
And why? Because me thought she was an whore.
P. A Lover's Dedication of his Service to a Ʋertuous GENTLEWOMAN.
WHat I in Woman long have wisht to see,
Rarest of thousands, I have found in thee;
Goodness, with Beauty: O! that crowns ye all,
That makes thee perfect and Celestial.
Beauty hath time to wither, we know;
But Goodness after death hath time to grow.
Let then those Rarities in you remain,
To shew that Earth from Heav'n so much can gain,
That you a Pattern should to others be;
But such as after-times shall never see.
Believe (sweet Lady) that all this is true,
And these few Lines belong to none but you.
P. Sonnet.
A Restless Lover I espy'd
That went from place to place,
Lay down & turn'd from side to side,
And sometimes on his face.
And when that
Med'cines were appli'd
In hope of intermission;
As one that felt no ease, he cri'd,
Has
Cupid no Physician?
What do the Ladies with their looks,
Their kisses, and their smiles?
Can no Receits in those fair Books,
Repair their former spoiles?
But they complain as well as we,
Their pains have no remission,
And when both Sexes wounded be,
Hath
Cupid no Physician?
Have we such Palsies, and such pains,
Such Feavers, and such fits,
[Page 87] No Quintessential Chimick Grains,
No
Esculapian wits;
No Creature can (beneath the Sun)
Prevail in opposition;
And when all wonders can be done,
Has
Cupid no Physician?
Into what Poyson do they dip
Their Arrows and their Darts,
That touching but an Eye or Lip,
The pain goes to our hearts.
But now I see before I get
Into their Inquisition,
That Death had never Surgeon yet,
Nor Cupid a Physician.
A Pastoral.
LOVER. P.
SHepherd, gentle Shepherd hark,
As one that canst call rightest,
Birds by their Name,
Both wild and tame,
And in their Notes delightest:
What Voice is this, I prethee mark,
with so much Musick in it?
Too sweet methinks to be a Lark,
too loud to be a Linnet?
Nightingales are more confus'd,
And discant more at random,
Whose warbling throats,
(To hold out Notes)
Their airy tunes abandon.
Angels stoop not now adaies,
Such Quirresters forsake us;
Yet
Syrens may
Our Loves betray,
And wretched Pris'ners make us;
Yet they must use some other way,
[Page 89] Then singing to deprive us
Of our poor lives, since such sweet lays
As these would soon revive us.
SHEPHERD. R.
'Tis not
Syren we discry,
Nor Bird in Grove residing,
Nor Angel's Voice,
Although as choice,
Fond Boy thou hear'st dividing;
But one if either thou or I
Should face to face resemble her,
To any of these would blushing cry,
Away, away
Dissembler.
P. A stragling Lover reclaim'd.
TIll now I never did believe,
A man could love for Vertue's sake,
Nor thought the absence of one Love could grieve
That man that freely might another take.
But since mine Eyes betroth'd my heart to you,
I find both true.
Thy Innocence hath so my Love refin'd,
I mourn thy Bodies absence for thy Mind.
Till now I never made an Oath,
But with a purpose to forswear;
For to be fixt upon one Face, were sloath,
When every Ladies Eye is
Cupid's Sphear:
But if she merit Faith from every Breast,
Who is the best
Of Women-kind; how can I then be free
To love another, having once lov'd thee.
Such is the great and happy power
Of Goodness, that it can dilate
It self, to make him vertuous in an hour,
Who liv'd before perhaps a Reprobate.
[Page 91] But since on me those wonders thou hast done,
In truth work on
Upon thy self, thy Sex doth want that Grace,
To love my Truth more then a better Face.
P. To a LADY weeping.
DRY those fair, those Christal Eyes,
Which like growing Fountains rise,
To drown their Banks; Griefs sullen Brooks,
Would better flow from furrow'd looks:
Thy lovely Face was never meant
To be the Seat of Discontent:
Then clear those watrish stars again,
That else portend a lasting Rain,
Least the Clouds which settle there,
Prolong my Winter all the year;
And thy Example others make,
In Love with sorrow, for thy sake.
P. A Complement to his Mistris.
ASk me no more whither do stray
The Golden Atoms of the Day;
For in pure Love, Heavens did prepare
This Powder to enrich your Hair.
Ask me no more whither doth hast
The Nightingale when
May is past;
For in your sweet dividing throat,
She winters, and keeps warm her Note.
Ask me no more where
Iove bestows
(When
June is past) the fading Rose;
For in your Beauties Orient deep,
All Flowers as in their Causes sleep.
Ask me no more where stars so bright,
Do downward stoop in dark of Night;
For in your Eyes they sit, and there
Fixed become, as in their Sphear.
Nor ask me whether East or West,
The
Phoenix builds her spiced Nest,
For unto you at last she flies,
And in your fragrant bosom dies.
A Paradox in praise of a painted WOMAN.
NOt kiss? by Love I must, and make impression
As long as Cupid dares to hold his session
Upon my flesh of blood, our kisses shall
Out-minute time, and without number fall.
Do not I know those Balls of blushing read,
Which on thy Cheekes thus am'rously be spred;
Thy sinewy neck, those veins upon thy brow,
Which with their azure winckles sweetly bow;
Are artsull borrowed, and no more thine own
Then Chains which on saint Georges day are shown
Are proper to the wearer; yet for this
I Idol thee, and beg a luscious kiss:
The
Fucus, and
Ceruse, which on thy face
Thy cunning hand laies on to add new grace,
Deceive me with such pleasing fraud, that I
Find in thy Art what can in nature lye.
Much like a Painter that upon some wall
On which the splendent sun-beams use to fall;
Paints with such art a guilded Butterfly,
That silly maids with slow mov'd fingers try
To catch it, and then blush at their mistake;
Yet of this painted Fly much reckoning make:
Such is our state, since that we look upon
Is nought but colour, and proportion
[Page 94] Take me a face as full of fraud and lies
As Gypsies, or your running Lotteries;
That is more false, or more sophisticate
Then are saints reliques, or a man of state;
Yet such being glazed by the sleight of art
Gaines admiration, wins in many a heart;
Put case there be a difference in the mould,
Yet may thy
Venus be more choise, and hold
A dearer treasure; oftentimes we see
Rich
Candian wines in woodden boles to be.
The odoriferous Civet doth not lye
Within the Musk-cats nose, or ear, or eye;
But in a baser place, for prudent nature
In drawing up of various formes and stature,
Gives from the curious shop of her rich treasure
To fair parts comeliness, to baser pleasure.
The fairest flowers which in Spring do grow
Are not so much for use, as for the shew;
As Lillies, Hyacinth, and Gorgeous birth
Of all py'd flowers which diaper the earth,
Please more with their discoulored purple train,
Then wholesome pot hearbs which for use remain.
Shall I a gawdy speckled serpent kisse?
Because the colour that he weares is his?
A perfum'd Cordavant who will wear?
For that his sent is borrow'd otherwhere.
The robes and vestiments which grace us all
Are not our own, but adventitial.
Time rifles Natures Beauty, but slie Art
Repairs by cunning this decaying part.
[Page 95] Fills here a wrinkle, and there purles a Vein,
And with her cunning hand runs o're again
The Breaches dented in the Arm of Time,
And makes deformity to be no crime;
As when great men are gript with sickness hand,
Industrious Physick pregnantly doth stand
To patch up foul Diseases, and doth strive
To keep their tottering Carkasses alive:
Beauty a candle is, which every puff
Blows out, and leavs nought but a stinking snuffe
To fill our Nostrills with this boldly think,
Your cleerest candle yeilds the greatest stink;
As your pure food, and choicest nutriment,
Yeilds the most hot, and nose-strong excrement:
Why hang we then on things so apt to vary,
So fleeting, brittle, and so temporary?
That agues, coughs, tooth-aches, and catarre,
Slight touches of diseases, spoyle or marre:
But when old age their beauty hath in chase,
And ploughs up furrows in their own smooth face,
Then they becom forsaken, and do show
Like stately Abbies ruin'd long ago.
Nature but gives the model and first draught
Of fair Complexion, which by art is taught
To speak it self a compleat form and birth,
So stands a Copy to the shapes on earth.
Love grants me then a reparable face,
Which whilst that colours are, can want no grace.
Pigmalions painted statues I could love,
So it were warm, and soft, and could but move.
Sonnet. P.
NOw being caught in
Cupid's Net,
And no way forth that I can get;
My heart being fixt, I cannot move,
Where I settle, I must love:
My Love must still with you remain,
Although my hoping be in vain.
By Vows and Oaths now am I sure;
But mis'ry my heart must endure:
So fickle are the Female kind,
Which troubleth much my grieved mind;
Missing the Corps I should enjoy,
Brings me to ruine and annoy.
But let them not then so false prove,
But likewise join their Love for Love;
Or else come
Cupid with thy dart,
And quickly pierce my wounded heart.
Seeing with her I can't remain,
Let me be rid out of my pain.
Being I am thus crost in Love,
I needs must play the Turtle-Dove.
[Page 97] For seeing that I have lost my Mate,
My Joy is turned into hate.
Therefore abroad then must I flye,
And seek me out a place to dye.
Well Captain, now thou hast my heart,
For thy sake now sore doth it smart;
With sobs and tears then do I cry,
To think on thy false treachery.
Thy sight to me ev'n now is death,
Come gentle
Cupid stop my breath,
P. On a Strawberry.
HOw like a Virgin, white and red,
A young Rose party-coloured,
Blusheth these Berries; or like the Sun,
Whose dayes journey's new begun,
Look here 'tis white, and on this side
'Tis like the Lilly in her pride,
Or new-falne Snow, or like fresh
May,
Which was blown but yesterday;
Both which Colours making one,
Imitate perfection,
Making it to seem as fair
As a beauty past compere;
[Page 98] Or the Apple cast from
Jove
To those of the
Hesperian Grove:
Yet not jealous where it grows,
Every where they march in rows;
Fields, and Bancks, and Roots of trees
Are often spangled o're with these;
Which though good themselves, yet be
The better by Community.
Taken how it hangs the head
Like a Virgin ravished;
Bowing down, as if afraid,
Like
Daphne when she cri'd for aid;
Or like
Calisto, that had been
Tempted by great
Jove to sin,
And seeing that
Diana spy'd it,
Strait held down the head to hide it.
I would a Mistris just like thee,
Thou pattern of humilitie;
As fair, fresh, patient, and free
Of any thing but Chastity;
As silent, and which best would please,
No less willing to encrease.
P. on VENNS and ADONIS.
VEnus that fair loving Queen,
Was sporting in the fairest Green,
There fair
Adonis did she see,
As he was sleeping by a tree;
Swift as thought to him she hies,
When she pursues, then still he flies;
O stay, stay, stay, sweet Boy quoth she,
And come sit down, down, down by me:
O stay, said she, my onely joy;
Then in her arms she clipt the Boy.
To speak, said she, let pitty move;
But he said, No, I cannot love.
Yet still she mov'd him for a kiss,
Sweet, scant not that which plenty is.
Into his arms her self she flung,
But he cry'd, Fye, I am too young.
Her Robes as fair, as fair might be,
The Goddess pluckt above her Knee;
In her fair twine she held him fast,
And made him yeild to love at last:
Was ever Lady thus disgrac't?
Art thou a God, and yet shame, fac't?
[Page 100] Then blushing, down his head he hung,
And still cry'd, Fye, I am too young:
Though he was young, yet stubborn. hearted,
Away he flung, and so they parted.
Her Rosie Cheek, fair Lady than,
With sorrow looked pale and wan.
Now for thy sake, wild Boy, quoth she,
Lov's God is blind, and still shall be.
Then sigh she did, with many a groan,
And still sate weeping all alone.
R, APOSIE for a Neck-Lace.
LO, on my Neck whilst this I bind,
For to hang him that steals my mind;
Unless he hang alive in Chains,
I hang and dye in lingring pains.
Those threads enjoy a double grace,
Both by the Gemm, and by the place.
P. For an EARRING.
TIs vain to add a Ring or Gemm,
Your Ear it self out-passeth them;
When idle Words are passing here,
I warn, and pull you by the Ear,
This Silken Chain stands waiting here
For Golden Tongues to tye on there.
Here silence twine their locks, you see,
Now tell me which the softer be.
P. SONG.
COme saddest thoughts possess my heart,
And in my grief come bear a part;
Let all my words be turn'd to groans,
Those sounds do best befit my moans;
Each breath I take a sigh must be
To make up sorrows harmony:
Mine eyes once glutted with delight,
Are now eclipsed from that sight,
From whose pure light and influence
I borrowed both life and sence:
Whilst then I draw this tedious breath,
I shall but lead a liveing death:
In sable weedes I'le cloathed be,
And put on sorrowes livery;
Then to some desart will I go,
The fittest place to harbor wo;
Where Owls and Ravens horrid cries
Shall Eccho forth my miseries:
My meat shall be of troubled cares,
My drink shall be of brinish tears;
My house shall be of the dark Cell,
Where no house is, there will I dwell;
[Page 103] The hardest rock shall be my bed
Whereon to rest my troubled head;
In stead of man's society,
Wild beasts shall keep me company;
I will converse without all fear
With Lyon, Tiger, Woolf, or Bear;
No Musick but their roaring cries
Each night shall close my wretched eies;
Death's living Tomb thus will I be,
And living dye continually.
To Birds and VVorms I'le it expose,
That on my body when I dye
They may engrave this Elegie:
No solemn burial will I crave,
My Cell shall be my Tomb and Grave;
And ere I breath my last thereon,
I'le write this sad Inscription;
Here lies inclosed in this Tomb,
He that indur'd Loves Martyrdom.
Amintas. P.
CLoris sate, and sitting slept,
Sleeping figh'd, and sighing wept;
Sate, slept, and sigh'd, & wept again
For
Ami tas that was slain:
Oh! had you seen his face, said she;
How fair, how full of Majesty.
And there she stopt,
And there she cry'd,
Amintas, Amintas,
And so she dy'd.
Sonnet. P.
GO Soul, the Bodies Guest,
Upon a thankless Errand;
Fear not to teach the best,
The truth shall be thy warrant.
Go since thou must needs dye,
And tell them all they lye.
[Page 105] Say to the Court it glows,
and shines like rotten wood;
Say to the Church it shows
what's good, but doth not good
If Court and Church reply
Then give them all the lye.
Tell Protestants they live
acting but others actions,
Not lov'd unless they give;
not strong but by their factions.
It Protestants reply,
Give Protestants the lye.
Tell men of high Condition,
that rule affairs of State,
Their purpose is ambition,
their practice onely hate:
And if they once reply,
Then give them all the lye.
Tell Wit it wants Devotion,
tell Love it is bur Lust;
Tell time it is but motion,
tell Flesh it is but Dust,
And wish them not reply,
For thou must give the lye.
Tell those that brave it most,
They beg for more by spending,
[Page 106] And in their greatest cost,
seek nothing but commending,
And if they once reply,
Then give them all the lye.
Tell Age it daily wasteth,
tell Honour how it alters,
Tell Beauty how she blasteth,
tell favour that she falters:
And as they do reply,
Give every one the lye.
Tell Wit how it wrangles,
in tricks and points of niceness;
Tell Wisdom she entangles
her self in others wiseness;
And as they do reply,
So give them all the lye.
Tell Physick of her boldness,
tell Skill it is perversion,
Tell Charity of her coldness,
tell Law it is contention;
And if they do reply,
Then give them all the lye.
Tell Fortune of her blindness,
tell Nature of decay;
Tell Friendship of unkindness,
[Page 107] tell Justice of delay,
And if they do reply,
Then give them all the lye.
P. On a Fountain.
THE Dolphins trifling each on others side,
For joy lept up, and gazing there abide:
And whereas other Waters fish do bring,
Lo here from Fishes do the Waters spring;
Who think 'tis more glorious to give,
Then to receive the Juice by which they live;
And by this Milk-white Bason learn they may,
That pure hands you should bring, or bear away:
For which each Bason wants no Furniture,
Each Dolphin wailing, makes his Mouth an Ewre.
You're welcome then, you well may understand,
When Fish themselves give Water to your hand.
To a Friend. P.
LIke to a hand which hath been us'd to play
One Lesson long, still runs the usual way,
And waits not what the Hearers bids it strike,
But doth presume by Custom this will like.
So run my thoughts, which are so perfect grown,
So well acquainted with my passion,
That now they dare prevent me with their hast,
And ere I think to sigh, my sigh is past;
'Tis past, and flown to you; for you alone
Are all the Objects that I think upon.
And did not you supply my soul with thought,
For want of action they would muse of nought:
What though our absent hands may not infold
Real
[...]mbraces; yet we firmly hold
Each other in Possession; thus we see
The Lord enjoys his Lands where'ere be.
If Kings possest no more then where they sate,
How were theirs greater then a mean Estate?
This makes me firmly yours, you firmly mine,
That something more then bodies us combine.
P. On his Mistress.
KEep on your Mask, and hide your Eye,
For with beholding you I dye:
Your fatal Beauty,
Gorgon-like,
Dead with astonishment will strike:
Your piercing Eyes, if them I see,
Are worse then
Basilisks to me:
Shut from my sight those Hills of Snow,
Their melting Vallies do not show;
Those Azure pathes lead to despair,
O! vex me not, forbear, forbear:
For whilst I thus in torments dwell,
The sight of Heav'n is worse then Hell.
Your dainty Voice, and warbling-breath,
Sounds like a Sentence past for death;
Your dandling Tresses are become,
Like Instruments of Final Doom,
O! if an Angel torture so
When Life is done, where shall I go.
P. In praise of his Mistris IRONICE.
MY Mistris hath a precious Eye,
But that alas, it looks awry;
And like the Silver is her Hair,
But it is Nitty every where;
And for a Brow, as black as Jet,
But it is greasie all with swet:
As for her Nose, O dainty Bill!
But it is ever dropping still:
And for her Lips, both fair & smooth,
But slavers like a Landress Booth;
And not a Tooth within her head,
But like a Pearl unpolished:
As for her Tongue, without compare,
It never talks but out of square.
And for her Chin, O pretty chap,
But that it hath a woolly Nap!
As for her Neck, both fair and white,
But carries not the head aright.
And for her Brests, both full and soft,
But that it hath been milcht too oft.
As for her belly, and her back,
Acquainted how to bear a pack.
[Page 111] And for the best, that is untold,
Alas, it hath been bought and sold.
As for her Thighs, good flesh and fat,
But rough and furred like a Cat.
And for her Feet, and for her Toes,
If that you do not stop your Nose,
The scent will teach your patience,
She is all sweet, Sir-reverence.
Translated out of FRENCH.
LOVE the great Workman, a new World hath made,
The Earth's my Faith, w
th steddy firmness Crown'd;
The Earth's of the Universe for Centre laid,
So is my Faith of this fair World the Ground.
If any motion of a jealous War
Shakes my heart's Faith, and lead it into error,
'Tis as when Winds that in the Earth pris'ned are,
Make Earthquakes that affect the earth with terror.
My tears are th' Ocean; for to draw them dry,
Were no less work then to suck up the Sea:
The storms that raise these billows in mine eye,
Are (dear) the fears of you not loving me.
The Sea is salt, although his Waters be
Assembled Rivers first, and sweet enough;
[Page 112] Much Salter are my tears, and far to me,
Sweeter their Sources since they spring from you.
The Air's my will, that in its own Power free,
Restless about my Faith hath his repair.
The Winds are like desires that rage in me,
And move my will, as the Wind moves the Air.
The Fire invisible, that this Air unfolds,
Is the dear Flame wherein for you I languish;
And as no Lye that subtil Fire beholds,
So from the whole world hidden is my anguish.
The Moon is Hope, which still doth wax and wane,
Borrowing the Light it hath, from you alone;
When the Moon's clouded, 'tis then when in vain
My thoughts erre after you, and cause my moan.
The Sun's your Eye (the fairest Light we see)
Fair Sun of Love, light and life of our hours;
For if the other Sun the world's light be,
What Lover but derives his Light from yours.
The Summer is your smile that quickens me,
Winter, my fears, benumming all my powers;
But what boot's fear, if my Loves Autumn be,
As void of fruit, as was his Spring of flowers.
P. A DREAM.
WHen as the cheerful Light was over-spread
With misty darkness, and the Sun was fled
Unto the Western Island; who to rest,
It call'd from toylsome labour man and beast.
Methought within a shady blooming Grove,
VVhere I was walking sad, perplext with Love:
Not far I spy'd a Damsel passing fair,
VVhich might for Beauty with the Nymphs compare:
She laid her down upon the Grass to rest
Her tyr'd Limbs, with weariness opprest:
Her pretty Fingers there I did behold,
How cunningly her Tresses did unfold;
I saw her Lilly Arm, her tender thigh,
Her little waste, yet durst I not come nigh
For fear she should descry me by her light
Of horned Luna, which even then in sight
VVas seen to come from old
Endymions Bed,
Scarce 'woke, still shaking of his drowsie head.
I lay down still, at length I did espye
Her eyes with sleep fast shut, then presently
I rouz'd my spirits without fear of shame;
And to the place whereas I lay, she came.
[Page 114] How fitly there her Legs abroad she laid,
Betwixt, Dame Natures Privity bewrai'd
It self; how fit she lay for to be prest:
Still was I chearful, till at length possest
With more inflaming Lust, I softly fell
Upon her Body; Judge you that can tell
The rest: So having finisht without pain,
From whence I came, I did return again.
P. To a Lady residing at the Court.
EAch greedy hand doth catch and pluck the flowr
When none regards the stock it grows upon.
Each Nature loves the fruit still to devour,
But leaves the Tree to fall, or stand alone:
Then this advice fair Cteature take from me,
Let none pluck fruit, unless he take the Tree.
Believe no Vows, nor much-protesting-men,
Credit no Oaths, nor no bewailing Song;
Let Courtiers swear, forswear, and swear agen,
Their hearts lye ten Regions from their Tongue:
And when with Oaths thy heart is made to tremble,
Believe them least, for then they most dissemble.
No; Let not
Caesar's self corrupt thy heart,
Nor fond Ambition scale thy modesty;
[Page 115] Say to the King, Thou onely constant art,
He cannot pardon thine impurity:
For if with one, with thousands thou'lt turn Whore;
Break Ice in one place, and it cracks in more.
APOLLO'S Oath.
VVHen
Phebus first did
Daphne love,
And could no way her fancy move,
He crav'd the Cause: the Cause, quoth shee,
Is, I have vow'd Virginity.
Then
Phebus raging, swore, and said,
Past Fifteen none should die a Maid.
If Maidens then perchance are sped
Ere they can scarcely dress their head,
Yet pardon them, for they are loath
To make
Apollo break his Oath;
And better it is a Child were born,
Then that a God should be forsworn.
Yet silly they, when all is done,
Complain our wits their hearts have won;
When 'tis for fear that they should bee
Like
Daphne, turn'd into a Tree:
And who her self would so abuse,
To be a Tree, if shee could chuse.
P. ASONG.
DRaw not too near,
Unless you drop a tear
On the Stone
Where I groan,
And will weep
Untill the eternal sleep
Shall charm my wearied eies.
Cloris lies here
Embalm'd with many a tear,
Which the Swain
From the Plain
Here hath paid,
And many a Vestal Maid
Hath mourn'd her
Obsequies;
Their snowy breasts they tear,
And rent their golden hair;
Casting cries
To celestial Deities,
To return
Her beauty from the Urn,
To remain
Unparallel'd on earth again,
When streight a sound
From the ground
[Page 117] Piercing the Air;
Cried, shee's dead,
Her soul is fled
Unto a place more rare.
You Spirits that do keep
The dust of those that sleep
Under ground,
Hear the sound
Of a Swain,
That folds his arms all in vain
To the Ashes he adores;
For pity do not fright
Him wandring in the night,
When he laves
Virgins graves
From his eies,
Contributing sad laments
Unto their memories;
And when my name is read
In number of the Dead,
Some one may
In charity repay
My soul the tribute that I gave;
And howl some
Requiem on my grave,
Then weep no more, weep no more,
Souls rest from care;
Since she is dead,
Her soul is fled
Unto a place more rare.
A Prognostication upon Cards and Dice.
BEfore the sixth day of the next New-year
Strange wonders in this Kingdom shall appear;
Four Kings shall be assembled in this Isle,
Where they shall raise great tumults for a while;
Many men then shall have an end of crosses,
And many likewise shall sustein great losses:
Many that are now joiful, and full glad,
Shall at that time be sorrowful and sad:
Full many a Christians heart shall quake for fear,
The dreadful sound of Trump when he shall hear.
Dead Bones then shall be tumbled up and down
In every City, and in every Town;
By day and night this tumult shall not cease,
Until a Herald shall proclaim a Peace;
A Herald strange, whose like was never born,
Whose mouth is flesh, and very beard is horn.
FINIS.