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University of Virginia Library

Ostella Or the Faction of Love and Beauty Reconcil'd

By I. T. [i.e. John Tatham]

Tatham, John (fl. 1632-1664)

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Occasional Copies upon several SUBJECTS.

To a Mistris that told me, I could not live without her Love.

To a simply Coy Mistress.

To an imperiously proud Mistress, swell'd with my Praises.

Vpon the acquaintance of a Gallant Gentlewoman. To my self.

Crying and Laughing.

To Mistress S. W.

To a timorously willing Mistress.

Vpon my Noble friend, Richard Lovelace Esquire, his being in Holland. An Invitation.

To a Mistresse that thinks the sight without other enjoyment is Love sufficient.

To a vertuous Lady, on whom Envy had thrown a Scandal, for which she Mourned, and hung her Chamber with Blacks.

Spying Splendora through a Casement.

My Friend Paul Squire.

Seeing a Lady ------

An Occasional Frolick to an unknown Friend.

To a Gentlewoman that Loved me, and I not her.

Another upon the same.

To a Mistresse that bid me make another Choice.

To the Deceiving Mistress.

Lycoris a Rapture.

Lycoris weeping.

To Mrs. J. H. upon my recovery of a fit of sickness.

To Mrs. I. H. upon the sight of a Marble Coverture or Statue in the Church.

Vpon my leaving off the Company of Hellena.

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Songs in a Masque.

1 Song: Fortune Descending.

2 The poor Schollers Song.

3 Song. The Country-life.

4. Song. Ambition.

5. Song.

A Prologue spoken at the Cock-pit, at the coming of the Red-Bull Players thither.

A Prologue spoken at the Red-Bull to a Play called the Whisperer, or what you please.

On the Report of Master William Lawes his Death.

To my Mother, Mris. Dorothy Tatham, one of the Daughters of Christopher Percy of Manson in the County of Dorset, Esquire, then Iustice of Peace and Quorum, and High Sheriff of that County.

Vpon the Death of my Father.

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5. Song.

Hang up this delaying devise,
since I am resolved to roam:
I hate things so peevishly nice,
and will frolick it e're I go home.

Thou tell'st me thou lovest me best,
how am I assured of that?
Thou sufferest me to dandle thy Brest,
but debarr'st me the thing thou know'st What.

Hang Lip-love, and such foolish toys,
they do but augment our Desires:
Let Kisses be nourish'd by Boys,
'tis Action that shews Manly fires.

Wherefore thinkest thou I came hither,
but to tickle thee into the Mood,
'Til with striving we do melt together?
such Surfeits do our Bodies most good.

Then I prithee tell me thy mind,
if thou to the Feat be willing;
If not, I shall find one more kind
though lesse fair, shall do't for a shilling.

For the times you know are barely made,
Men cannot much Money disburse:
And 'tis fit Women should live by their Trade,
light gains make a heavy Purse.