University of Virginia Library

ΙΙΟΛΥΛΟΓΙΑ;

OR, Several Ecloges:

The first revived; from some Papers formerlie written, 1.6.3.8.

The rest, Written by the same Author; .1.6.4.8.

An Ecloge Spoken by Amintas and Strephon.

AMINTAS.
And why, my Strephon, are thy Thoughts soe wed
To the dull Country? whose free Lustie-hed
Might challenge higher place to raise thy Name;
Leave it, for shame; and wanton on the Thame.

STREPHON.
'Tis well, Amintas; wherein were I more
Or good, or happie, then I was before?
I doe admire your Thames; but let my mind
And bodie to the Countrie be confin'd.
Here safelie can I sitt vnder a Hill,
Tending my flocke, and take my Pipe, at will;
My Pipe, which pleases me, and gives to none
Matter of grudge or Emulation.

AMINTAS.
Alas! that matters not; what thing can be
(If it deserve soe much) from Envie free?
Envie (Selfe-poison) hurts the brest from whence
It doth proceed; Wee gaine fresh Courage thence.
What best, but Envy strikes it? Envy brings
Her Bodie,—Toade; but Eagle, Eye and Wings;
Aymes at the highest, fixeth on the Sun:
Give me a Verse, for Emulation.

STREPHON.
'Tis true; but yet it better pleaseth Mee
To sing in Shades, from Spight and Envy free;
Not that I feare the Monster; I despise
Her Spurious Bratts, Slander and Calumnies;
But (my Amintas) I desire to rest
Private at Home, in a poor Qviet blest.

AMINTAS.
Ah, doe not say soe; thou art then ingrate
Not more to Nature then thou art to fate.
Why should not what Heaven gives (a gift devine;
And given to vse) in a full glorie shine?
See to the City once againe, and trye
(If a meere doltishnes not bleare thy Eye,)
What odds!—Oh, heaven! let me be patient,
In all things but this Madnes—if Content
Be in abundant Pleasures; if the Springe
Want Sweet in Yours, to what our Autumnes bring;
If to All this, and All wee can Adde more,
(If there may be Addition to that Store
Which Nature, prodigall, hath here layed out,)
You put your Iudgment; let me never doubt,
You can forsake the Citye to Converse
With Earth and Iuments.—

STREPHON.
—Be not yet too feirce,
My deare Amintas; though I doe admire
To what you say, the Cittie, perhaps higher
Then you have meant to; yet, I must be free
To my owne private; for, felicitie
Wee bound to our Conceptions; this you call
Pleasure or Happines; which I doe fall
To see our owne securitie; I more
Value my want then what you 'count your Store;
For I am rich, not you; though Gemms or Coyne
I doe not boast; I need 'em not; all mine
A narrow Roome contains—

AMINTAS.
—Narrow, indeed;
I almost blush to feare my freind should reade
Some punie Stoicism's; dear Strephon, give
Thy nobler Nature wing to flye; and Live
To that Intention. Wee converse with Men,
Which setts new Edge on witt; the richest Pen
Of fancie here finds Inke; the glorious Names
Of Ionson, Beaumont, Fletcher, live with Thames,
And shall outlive his waters. Had they crept
In mudled remote Streams, their worth had slept;
And those great Fancies which all men Admire
Had flowen, but in the Smoake of their owne fire.
'Tis Fame gives Life; Iudgment gives Life to Fame;
Iudgment moves here; then be noe longer Shame
Vnto thy Genius; wast noe more thy witt
With Hinds, whose palats cannot relish it.

STREPHON.
Had I what you are pleas'd to say; could I
Flatter my Selfe into a facultie
I love but have not; could I truelie boast
A flame attendant to those names I most
Admire; I should not seeke beyond the Sphere,
I move in now. Are there noe Iudges here?
'Tis true, wee doe not stretch Hyperbolees
To Crowne our Names, but give a modest praise.
Modest is Iust; and if noe praise it gaine,
Wee rest contented well, to Entertaine
Our Selves with our owne Thoughts. Who writes to please
Or get a Name, flyes lowe; yet some of these,
Wee see how forc'd, are thrust vpon the Stage
Of your great Theatre, where witts engage.
Write what I will or where, 'tis but my owne,
Perhaps my Shame, not worthy to be knowne;
If more it merit, Fame and Time are Iust;
Soe some are dead, Alive; Some Live in Dust.
Must only names live with the nobler Streames?
Are wee All tyed to the ingrossing Thames?
Swans Sing in shallow waters. Avon, Trent,
And Medway have bene heard. One Eminent
To cope with its devourer, and, perchance,
Poor Devia, fameles now, may yet Advance
Something to memorie, and create some new
Glorie vnto her Current; knowne by fewe.
Soe to his native Mincius, Maro vowed
His Qvill, though by Imperiall Tiber wooed.

AMINTAS.
Too much to blame; yet rather I'le perswade,
Then chide from Error. Reason may invade
Where Passion moves not. Doe you thinke the low
Water which slides into the more fam'd Po,
Or Po it Selfe, had bene enough to reare
That verse which pleas'd the greatest Cæsar's Eare?
That verse which Tiber claimes, more glorious
Then Po, constellated Eridanus.
Verses are Insects, which the common Sun
Makes craule or flutter; but to move and run
On steddie feet, needs a particular
Influence: for such, our severall Poems are;
Like nobler Creatures, from the Imperiall Eye
Witt takes a growth, and getts full wings to flye;
Whilst grosser heads bring forth their dunghill brood,
Vnform'd, to dye againe, in Earth and mud.
I wonder, Strephon, you, (who have a Mind
Able to manage all you have design'd;
Who know Great Things, and may arrive at more
Then narrow Soules can fathome:) thus should Soare.
With Kites and lazie Puttocks; when wee know
You have a wing of Strength, might toure into
The purest Region fancie breaths, and Scorne
These Shamble-seeking birds. Wee can but mourne,
Perswade, and pittye you. A man may speake
Stronge Reason to himselfe, which seemes but weake
Where it should worke; and sometimes it may fall,
Where wee intend not wee move most of All.
If what I spoke have moved! if, what I meant
(For freinds, may often see a freind's intent,)
Were Love and Zeale, (to have my Strephon live
Worthy himselfe, and his Endeavours give
A Sacrifise to Honour, or his Name
Stand to all Time, in an vnblemisht Fame,)
Hee will not blame Mee; let me read Consent
To my perswasion, and thy owne Content.

STREPHON.
Doe you ioyne these as one? which I can never,
But like the Poles, at vtmost distance Sever.
If you perswade to see the Court, the Towne;
Feast me with nothing, garnisht with my owne
Content; you say A word, and perhaps All
Your Selfe has found yet. Oh! why should I fall
From the bright Region where I move and Live,
To any lower flight? Court-glasses give
False Light, and take the foolish bird (that dares
At painted Shadowes,) often vnawares.
The nobler Larke flyes high, himselfe to veiwe
In the Celestiall Mirror, where all true
Reflections are. Amintas, 'twere as good
From fier, heat to sever, Life from blood,
As ioy to mee, from what my selfe propose;
A private Countrie Life. I blame not those
Who (more Ambitious) Citties doe frequent;
Bee it their Ioy; it were my punishment.
I rather here with Silvia chuse to sitt,
And Sing of harmles Love and Sober witt;
Of Innocence, of Truth, of Peace, or what
Calme fancie moves; then chatter to the rate
Of my Lord's bountie; wildlie ramping downe
Hideous Chimara's, to affright the moone.
Did not, of old, Great Orpheus and the rest
Of Citie-builders love the Countrie best?
Soe through all Times; what is't they All admire?
A mind and bodie sound, in safe retire.
'Tis true, there is noe ioy but to the Mind;
You, yours in Citties; I, mine here doe find.

AMINTAS.
You are too bent, and I but pitty can
The Losse of such a Mind, of such a Man;
When happie Names shall fill the mouth of fame,
Noe breath shall move to thee; but in thy name
Dye, like a thing vnborne; thy verse may creepe
To Chimneyes, or watch-women till they sleepe;
Or please, when drinkings' done, the Countrie Squire;
Who least can Iudge, though happilie Admire.
This be thy fate, though farre below thy verse,
Meriting better Author, better Ears.
I could be Angry, but our freindship shall
Not breake vpon the Circumstantiall
Ayre of opinion. Cast yet backe an Eye
Vnto the Cities full varietie;
I pitty thy retire, and doubly greive,
That thou wilt here, and I must from thee Live.
I cannot move, fetteréd in the Eye
Of bright Vrbanae's powerfull Maiestie.
Vrbana, She whose glories may envite
Monarchs to wooe, and everie muse to write.

STREPHON.
Such Splendor might Astonish my weake Sence;
My Silvia pleases me; her Innocence
Is all her praise. Alas! She singlie sitts
Vpon some humble Hillocke, and there fitts
Grasse to her Strephon's browes; and, to make fine,
Puts in a Dasie or an Eglantine;
A Sprig of Mirtle, or, perhaps, a Rose,
On festivalls; for wee observe still those:
Though daies with you are Equall. These, though poore,
Are high enough for him who seeks noe more.
My deare Amintas, doe not thinke the bright
Zenith of London carries onlye Light.
Let Yorkshire have some ray from the great flame,
Which warmes you there. What doe wee want to name,
That you abound with, needfull? Perhaps more
And better wee might bring, accounted poore.

AMINTAS.
Noe longer, Strephon: I have heard too much,
And blame thee, partiall, to Compare or touch
Our Southerne Ayre with Yorkshire clouds. What heat,
But moves from vs to you? How weather-beat
Your meadowes are! Your feilds halfe bare appeare;
Your fruit-trees scarcelie bloome, when ours ripe here;
Noe winter chills our Earth, when you lye bound
Vnder the frozen Circle, or else drown'd
In Swelling waters; such as might perswade
A Second Deluge, 'gainst the promise made.

STREPHON.
Well, 'tis enough; yet looke vpon our feilds,
As faire as yours; indeed our Season yeilds
To you somewhat in Time; our loadned trees
Beare equall Burthens; but noe more of these;
These, the full hand of Providence has spred
Largelie to all the Ile. Yet, if I did
Waver in Choice, and tooke the whole Survay
Of North and South, noe Countrie everie way
More pleases me; and I am glad you fall
To allow the Countrie pleasant is at all.
Amintas, 'tis; (if humane nature can
Arrive at what may make a happie man)
The Summe of All; to enioy, without feare,
What heaven layes out to blesse vs every yeare;
In such abundance, such varietie,
That were wee Blind to it, the Motts would see
To praise the giver; were wee mute, the Stones
Would sing to him; and All the Hills at once
Leape like yonge Kidds. What need wee witt or Skill,
When these informe our brains, and leade our Qvill,
Beyond all Conversation? Men and Bookes
But trouble Him who at the Creature lookes.

AMINTAS.
'Tis a new doctrine, and perhaps may sound
Well to your Selfe; but shall wee then be bound
To frustrate Providence? Who made man fitt,
Communicative; not like owles, to sitt
And pore out day-light, in a silent Muse;
They see the Creature, and their organs vse
To praise this maker; and they know the end
Of Nature, in themselves; and may extend
Further then our Philosophie allowes,
In Contemplation; for, Alas! who knowes?
The Age is full of new; and to contend,
In this, what boot, when Strephon is my freind?
And being fix'd, I will not now dehort
Thy setled Mind; but must be sorrie for't.
Mayest thou enioy thy Thoughts; secure and free,
Silvia; and if noe trouble, thinke of mee.
Soe freinds may Live together, whilest I beare
Thy memorie, and Muses equall Deare.

STREPHON.
Dearest Amintas, be thou happie in
Vrbanae's Love, whilst Silvia is mine;
And when Vrbana shines in all her State,
Prize not my Silvia at an vnder-rate
Oh doe not thinke but She may be as faire,
In nature's bounties, with vnborrowed haire;
As wise, as happie, in an innocent Heart,
As thine with all the Complements of Art.
Wee, in our Selves, are Happie; Fate shall be
Emulous of our Ioy; and when you see,
From the scorch't South, our pleasures; then yow'l say
Noe Life to this, noe Paire soe blest as They.

AMINTAS.
May it be soe; whilest in Vrbanae's Lap
I sing of thee; and let no hower escape
To gratulate thy Ioye; which to my owne
I shall prefer. Farewell: let me be knowne
Worthy thy Verse; and sometimes daigne a Line
To thy Amintas: Farewell.—

STREPHON.
What of mine
Is worthy to record a Freind soe Deare?
Soe much himselfe, yet to his Freind soe neare.
Wee will not be devided; once again,
Let me hope, oft weele meet; and entertaine
Our Selves with what wee fancy, to the full
Of all our Thought. Farewell: if I be dull
'Tis to leave thee. To thy Vrbana goe,
Whilst I, with Silvia, my Time bestow.
Maiest thou be happie ever; may what all
Good wishes tend to, in thy bosome fall:
At thy loved London, may thy Ashes lye;
In Yorkeshire may I Live, in Yorkshire Dye.

An Ecloge: Spoken by Mælibeus and Dorilus.

MELIBEUS.
The North lookes grisly blacke; our Ewes new-Shorne,
Hast to the Covert of yond' thick-set Thorne;
Presage of Storme: goe wee, while angrie clouds
Threaten our flocks, into the well-made Shrouds
Of the neare Grove. Lambs, sooner wise then wee,
Have got the Hedge, and now stand Weather-free.

DORILUS.
Poore Innocents! who take noe further Care
Then to prevent distemperatures of Ayre;
Happie beyond our Envie; I have oft,
Deare Melibæus, in a serious thought,
Bene pleas'd to see our flocks, how gladlie they
Live in their Nature, pleas'd (as wee may say)
With Providence; and lesson to vs men,
In their faint bleatings, precepts, which the pen
Of Schooles is not soe cleare in. I can see
More resignation, more humilitie,
In this poore Lambe, and practise by Him, farre
Beyond the highest Lectures that I heare.

MELIBEUS.
Ah Dorilus! 'tis Soe: our retchles Swains
Are idle All, and have Lethargicke Brains;
Nature inverted, Starts to see the Change;
And man the onlie Ideot, in a Strange
Posture of Dreaming. Whether tends this dull
Stupiditie vnto? May wee not pull
The Syllie-Hoe (which binds vp our best Eye
From its deare obiect of Tranquillitye)
Away? but tarrie Infants, in the wombe
Of Ignorance, till it become our Tombe?

DORILUS.
Men are but Children ever; what wee know,
Or what wee say wee know, wee doe not Soe;
Wee may intend at Something, and arrive
In Ken of the faire Port at which wee drive;
But there the Sands immure vs. If wee seeke
By force to tugge her in, wee either leake,
(Fraile vessels can noe more) or hemm'd about,
Wee're lost; not to get in, nor can get out.

MELIBEUS.
Wee seeke Destruction with a willing hast,
And boast to be vndone. How madlie fast
Wee run into Selfe-ruine! All our Pride
Is to out-foole our Selves! Some few are tyed
To the dull precepts of Antiquitie;
I call 'em dull, as dull to them who see
Not to the force, but trifle in the word;
Which to the height they tend to but afford,
A Glimpse of Light. Hee in a mist doth stray
To Knowledge, who by words would find his way.
Yet Somewhat must be Spoke; and much is said,
By which the riper Intellect is made
Able to know its obiect by the Sight;
This but to few, though All pretend to Light.
And bad men, in our bold Age, now dare boast
New knowledges to vs; and bring the lost
Exploded errors of all former Ages,
Iustified, to the world, in their full Pages.
Now, nothing from the peasant, Groome is heard,
But Subtle Doubts, & Selfe-sprung doctrines rear'd.
Who has not heard lewd Blotos in a fitt,
Defame All wee thinke Truth? And make it witt
To laugh things Sacred into all Contempt;
Not even Divinitie itselfe exempt.
Vnheard of Arrogance, to question All
Wee move by, from our Earth's originall.
The ranke Impieties of mortalls rise
From burning Entrails, sulphurous Blasphemies;
And to convince themselves they ever beare
Their Hell with them, which they seem not to feare.
Oh! the Anxietie of such a Soule!
Beleive it, Dorilus, the Furies houle
Still in that Bosome; all imagin'd fears
And reall feinds, vnto that Eye appears;
And though Hee (blushles false) seeme to perswade
Nothing of Heaven or Hell, his Thoughts invade;
Hee dare doe All, or neglect, as he List,
Pietie or Profaneness; and persist
Incorrigible; Laugh at all beside,
The follie of the world; and his owne pride,
Is Reason; Reason, God; Or what wee call
Divinitie; and Hee to Himselfe is All.
I tremble to repeat it; yet I've knowne
Him Stupid in his fears, and oft, alone,
Afrighted Start, and Stare, and broken Speake
To the darke Goblins his owne fancies make;
Yet still impenitent, had rather dye
Rack'd by his fears and foule impietie,
Then seeme to retract any of his will;
Obstinate Miscreant to his Error still.
These, the Contagion, not of families,
But Commonwealths, and humane Policies;
What Thought abhors not? Hammers to beat downe
All bonds of Peace, of Love, Religion.

DORILUS.
These, Melibæus, now soe frequent are,
Hee sitts a Dizzard to the world that dare
Not impious be, and with a saucy taunt
Affront Divinitie; as 't wer a want
Of witt or Courage, not to be profane.
Man should dare anything; Shall the inane
Terrors of Death and Hell, the forgéd dreame
Of Heaven, be made a bridle vnto them?
I cannot, dare not, Speake, what even this Eare,
From such foule Mouths, has gvilty bene to heare.
Sence pleasing fallacies! But wherefore should
Wee wander in these waies? Vnles wee could
Reduce them stray'd; a Thing in vaine to trye:
Leave we to speake what None can remedie.

MELIBEUS.
Leave wee't to Him who made and can restore
All Hearts; Him, th' only Maker, to Adore.
That obiect only worthy our desires,
To whom noe Thought can reach; nor the Enquires
Of humane Industrie can ever gaine;
Leave it to Him. It fitts the humble Swaine
Better to see himselfe, or Sing his owne
Notion of things, or ravill out th' vnknowne
Series of naturall Causes; and be free
With fellow-Creatures. Here, can nothing be
Obstructive to our faith; and if wee misse,
'Tis but in Iudgment, which no Error is.

DORILUS.
That, wee can scarce Allow; though it may hitt,
Perhaps, with some new Meta-phisicke witt.
Philosophie and Reason have their Sphœre,
Though in a lower orbe, and Truth is there.
A firme and setled Being doth not move
Or floate with humane fancies, as they rove;
Some thing is Truth; and though the diverse head
Of man, from One, has manie seeming made;
Wee may not grant; for then, might everie braine
Boast its validitie, though nere soe vaine;
And those strange Pseudo-doxal fancies be
Which Maladolon gives Philosophie.
Thinke not, by this, I to old principles
Am meerly tyed, and blow away what else,
By latter Qvills, has worthilie bene taught.
Where pregnant proofes and Reasons have bene brought.
To vindicate their Teachings, there I'me free,
And at my owne Election left to be;
Though 'twer a Thesis by the Stagerite
Left as inviolable. If I might
Put in my humble Iudgment, to the high
Flyings of others in Philosophie;
And give my Approbation, (though alas
I know soe little, yet all Praise will pass).
Lately, a noble Shepheard made appeare
Philosophie, in Garments fitt to weare;
Which I admire, and truelie must allow
It weight and Current; though, perhaps, I know,
The Schooles, and Some who would Schoole-learning vant,
Explode it, false, defective, Arrogant.
Truly, with those Heads shall I never ioyne;
But kisse that honoréd Hand, in everie Line
Of his elaborate Treatise, and confesse
Hee has taught more to me, then I could gvesse
By all I knew before—

MELIBEUS.
that learned Knight
Has left a worke of price, worthy the Spight
Of such an Ignorance as vndertooke
To cavill it, and the most worthy Booke
Now extant; where, me thinks, I read againe
Man from his Principles, to perfect Man.
But let such Impudence discover what
Malice would doe, if 'twer within his fate;
A Qvill soe low, soe yet vndipt, to cope
With these well-mention'd worthyes. What mad Hope
Could soe encourage Him! Ill may his Inke
Run, to revile him. I dare hardlie thinke
Madnes it selfe could hope to merit fame
From such light Pasquills; if not with the name
Of his great opposites Hee thought to find
Some soon-caught Reader, for their Sakes, soe kind.

DORILUS.
You can be bitter; as indeed, I blame
Not much your Zeale to vindicate the name
Of honour, from the Envious breath of those
Who detract Truth, and run with Saucie Nose
To everie neighbour feast; and gather All
The Qvelq-chose or the Scraps, which are let fall
Perhaps to that End. Give the Curre a bit
Or bone, to stay his Canine Appetite.
But, Melibæus, Some, who would appeare
Sober and Solid, iudge that Booke, I heare,
And passe it, in a Character, which sounds
Frightfull to Sence; and weaker Iudgment wounds.

MELIBEUS.
Some, who put on grave Browes, have shallow Brains;
Whose face, their Stocke of wisedome still maintains.
These are Austere, and put a sullen brow
Of Censure to all freedome they not know;
Seeme startled (they confin'd) at fuller ayres,
Which from Enlargéd Minds expression bears:
Where, to name Providence, were to denie
Our faith, and raise some heathen Deitie.
Though higher Soules, full with Cœlestiall fruits,
See God and know Him by his Attributes.
Love, Peace, Truth, Light, and Fire; (expressions, which
Hee daigns;) to them, sounds nothing but an itch
And levitie in words; weake Soules may feare;
And 'tis a vertue, in them, to forbeare.
Though, doubtles, Some minds may expatiate
With as much Innocence, to all the height
Their Notions are made Capable: they, free
In their owne Thoughts, may vse this Libertie.
For still shall Man be foole? or soe much Slave
To words? whose worth or weight, (if ought they have)
Hee gives; and may not Hee vse to his owne
Idea, the most apt expression?
Some words are flat and low, and halt to bring
Forth great intentions; want the relishing
Which fluent Qvills and full Thoughts ever give;
Somewhat beyond the words, which makes 'em Live.

DORILUS.
And in that Hee is Happie; all his Sence
Soe poinant is, soe vnstrain'd his Eloquence,
Hee steales vpon the Soule, and apts the Mind
To all the Proiect which he has design'd;
His words are soe Himselfe; so everie man
That will but speake Himselfe; as nothing can
Be clearer to an Eye not meerlie led
By its owne Meteors. Let the swimming Head
Floate in a Sea of Phlegme, whilst Knowledge towers,
With wings vncurb'd, to ioyne with its great Source;
There lives a flame combin'd, never to fall,
Made one, whence first it had originall.
How diversly the mind of Man may frame
Its owne Beatitude, vnder the Name
Of Knowledge! Each, within himselfe possest,
Hee has the ray, still liveing in his brest.
And sure Each has Enough to his owne End;
What Providence did equallie intend,
Nature, ill organized, may faile to spread;
Or parts, by Accident enfeebled,
May hinder it, to the exterior Sence:
But in its Light, its Seat of Excellence,
The Soule is cleare and perfect; when wee shall
Move Intellects meere in-organicall.

MELIBEUS.
What Strange wild Paradoxes, humane Witt
Oft teem's with! and dare boldlie vtter it,
Strong Reason! Doe you thinke that all Soules be
Equall in their first Cause? or Equallie
Move to the End? Are vessels of one Size,
Or in proportion? or in dignities?
And but the interposure of our flesh,
Doth difference, to make it more or lesse,
Active or cleare? Pardon, if I dissent,
Or if I say 'tis not yet evident,
This Same-proportion; though the Arteries,
And organizéd flesh may faculties
Perhaps obstruct; or sometimes mure the way,
Where Reason should make Sallye. But you say
All minds are forméd Equall, and that All
Shall equall move, One with th' originall.
I doe beleive and know the flesh a weight;
And duller organs hinder the great flight
Our vnderstanding tends to, that Wee now
Not apprehend the least, what wee shall know.
And ev'n that Mind which wee see drench't in mire,
Shall looke at Glorie, freed from its attire
Of Earth; but with a differencéd Light
To those, who liveing saw that flame more bright.
Else, to the Ideot better portion falls
Then to the wise; and what all Wisedome calls
A Blessing, is not soe; but soe much worse;
A Torture, a Disease, perhaps a Curse.

DORILUS.
I cannot yet retract: my Reason must
Vse her owne wing, in this, rather then trust
The borrowed feathers from another's braine;
And what I have said once, must speake againe.
Soules equall are, and Equallye doe move,
In Glorie, to the height of Knowledge, Love.
This, if it be a Paradox to you,
I blame not; to my Iudgment it sounds true;
And truelie, could wee speake our owne thoughts cleare,
Or make full-form'd Conceptions appeare
To others in the Light to vs they Stand,
Wee should not differ; for wee vnderstand
Things now by halfes, and hardlie see the End
Propos'd, or whether the Discourses tend;
Things in their Causes hid, and set beyond
The vtmost fathome of the extended Mind;
Noe wonder if in words they darke appeare,
Hard to Another's Intellect and Eare.
For, what wee know and See, what Sence perswades
Is not well ever told; how lesse, the Shades
Of our Imaginations sett to veiwe?
How least, of faith? which noe man ever knew,
Or could display, beyond the fixéd Light
Resident in him; to informe his Spright.
The brightest Notions which our Reason heav's
From Fancie's hindge, imperfectlie wee leave
To the then forme of words; the beautie rests
Still hid, perhaps; but what, to our owne brests
Was borne within vs, pleases still the mind;
Though hearers nought of Satisfaction find.
But, Melibæus, see, the Storme is ore,
Our flocks now fall to feeding, as before;
Cease wee of this, till further time; and keepe
Committed trust; Love wee, and tend our Sheepe.

MELIBEUS.
The great Cloud breaks, and Titan, with his ray
Obliquelie glanc'd, seems to revive the day;
A merrie wind whistles through all the Grove,
And clears the Ayre; the welkin Smiles above;
Our glad flocks Spread the Hill; the Lambs, made bold
In warmer Ayre, forget the Storme and Cold.

DORILUS.
Then goe wee to the Hill, and lead 'em out
To fresher Herbage, ere the evening Shutt:
The Sun declines, to lave his fierie Carr
In westerne Seas, and rouse the Evening Starr.
Shepheard, applie thy Pipe, whilst Sober Layes
Begvile our Steps, in these oft-trodden waies.

An Ecloge: Spoken by Halon and Eudœmon

HALON.
The rageing wolfe, which made our flocks his Prey,
Hath bled his Last; Eudœmon, yesterday
Five iolly Swains, with dogs to that End bred,
Hunted him ore the Hills, with eager Speed;
Though Long, at last he fell; noe longer wee
Need feare our foldes should broke or frighted bee.

EUDŒMON.
Ill fitts that word the mouth of any Swaine;
Are wee secure because the wolfe is Slaine?
There may be moe; or were there none but Hee,
What Spell have wee from foxes to be free?
Are not our Lambs to Badgers yet a prey,
Perhaps were we but Absent halfe a day?
Noe, Halon, were these all removed, the Swaine
That loves his flocke doth still his care retaine.

HALON.
'Tis an vnnecessarie precept, wee
Derive from worne Leavs of Antiquitie;
But wiser Shepheards now have better Taught;
Danger removed, why should wee care for Naught?
Wee loose our Selves in a perpetuall Toyle,
And are made Slaves to what's not worth the while.

EUDŒMON,
Fye, Halon, doe not say soe; if you knew
The value of your Chardge, or had the true
Vsing of flockes, which everie Shepheard ought;
It were a Care, even worthy all your Thought.
But (ah) the Libertie of this leud Age
Spreads as a deluge, even to engage
All in the Gulph; and newer pleasures now
Shepheards enthrall, which Shepheards did not know.
The Simple Merrie-make of older Swains
Was Innocent, and rurall Entertains
Had noe ill-meanings. Halon, I have bene
In either Age, and both their Customes seene.

HALON.
Eudœmon, noe; your Age of lesse then mine
May speake, for time; and may my best Ramme pine,
If ere I knew it otherwise then now,
Good frolicke Sportings vsed; alas, I know
Our carefull Sires would tell a Time of old,
When all was good; such as Eudœmon would
Now fancie to himselfe; but, Swaine, I know
Thow think'st the times were ever as they're now.

EUDŒMON.
Indeed! I thinke our fancies doe gvild ore,
Somewhat, the face of Ages gon before;
But certaine, Halon, better then wee now
Live in to see, your selfe and I did know.

HALON.
To me, 'twas ever thus; but I not came
To talke of Times or Customes; they're the Same.
My errand was my first; tomorrow shall
A day of Mirth be kept. Eudœmon, All
Expect your Companie; the rest did make
Mee now their Messenger, to come and Speake.

EUDŒMON.
Though, Halon, noe man then my Selfe, more Ioyes
At others Happines, or in this prize,
The luckie Swains brought home; I must refuse
To meet, to-morrow: Carrie my Excuse.

HALON.
Excuse you! now I doubt ther's something more
Troubles Eudœmon, then I thought before.
Are wee not All Concern'd? You must appeare;
You will be thought on stranglie, if not there.

EUDŒMON.
Noe: they will pardon it.—

HALON.
Noe pardon can
Fall vnto such a Crime. Eudœmon, man,
Whither away! How art thou dully Lost
From thy once Selfe, and what thou lovedst most?
Not meet! Wee must be merry; Cups shall Crowne
Our Ioyes, and make the Conquest full our owne.
'Tis not a Life, our Dayes wee but vntwine;
Save Time a Labour, and our Genius pine
In Silent Musings, to noe good, which wee
Our Selves intend, or other Men can See.
Societie! the Best of All, our Boast;
Without which, Life it Selfe were not ill-Lost.
What need I more perswade? To Him who once
Could bring a Thousand motives to advance
Designes of Drinking; which, forsooth wee Name
Modestlie, meetings. Fye vpon this Shame!

EUDŒMON.
Why, Halon, thou art almost rapt to thinke
Of this great meeting. Let them goe to drinke,
Whose Last night's Surfet call fresh Cups, t' allay
The Stomacke-Stretchings of the former Day;
I am resolved: for, Halon, I have seene
Enough of Madnes; and too often bene
A franticke Actor in the foolish rites
Of bloat-fac'd Bacchus; now noe more delights
But Tortures to my Thought; to see how deepe
My better part was shrunke into the heape
Of follie and forgetfullnes.—

HALON.
—And now
A Satire feirce! How long? I prithee, how
Many, or dayes or howres? For weekes! who can
(That has a Throat,) one Single weeke abstaine?
How long hast thou pin'd in this dolefull plight
Of Sobernes? Or how long shall wee see't
Continue? Dearest, tell me, some fond vow!
And limited, I warrent! Faith say how.

EUDŒMON.
Noe vow it is, nor yet a vulgar Tye,
Made ore a Posset, for the Maladie
Of many Cups; nor a Conversion, made
From Crop-Sicke Qvalms or Giddines of Head;
But a well-made Resolve; which Dayes nor Howers,
(But Time alone when Hee my Selfe devours)
Shall ever forfeit. Prithee, Halon, tell
The ioy thou takest (for thou lovest Drinking well)
In the strange Swilling of vnnumbred Cups?
By whole-Sale Flaggons, or retailing Supps!
What is the End to which your proiects drive?
To make you Longer, Merrier, Better Live?
For one or All of these I cannot see
(Soe sordid now doth it appeare to me,)
What any man can Say; I have forgot
What 't was my Selfe would Say, when I, a Sott,
Durst vindicate my ill-spent howers; or please
My fancy in such franticke mirths as these.

HALON.
Holla, Eudœmon! Yet I hope to see
Your reconversion for Cup-Libertie;
Which I prefer as Conscience; and had rather
Then seale vp Lips, they'd Sowe my Soule together.
I recke not what they make of forme or faith;
Nor would I be a Martir, vnles death
Were to be drunke; in that, let Law be free,
And make Religion what they list, for mee.

EUDŒMON.
Indeed, such expectations, such desires
May fitlie suite; how happie are the fires
Which Sober Fancie kindles in ye Mind!
How strange these Fumes appeare! of wine and wind!

HALON.
Yet, let my little Reason,—for in troth
I doe not boast of much; I should be loath
To vse it, if I had, as words, ill Spent
T' enforce this All-convincing Argument:
Let me, (I say) perswade a little; once
Pledge a full Glasse; suppose it may advance
The Health of him wee honour; to denie
Such a Request were want of Loyaltie;
To morrow, This the widest Goblet swells;
Such as refuse it, meerlie Infidells,
Can hardlie hope Salvation; not vnlesse
They fill three bigger, and their Zeale expresse
To Mirabella; or, with bended knee,
Swoope of a vessel bigger then all three.
To our bright Hopes, the riseing Shepheard's Starre,
What Loyall Heart can drinking these forbeare?
And here the frolicke seems but to begin;
Our Mistresses are call'd, and they come in;
Number the letters in her name, by Boules;
Old Martial lives againe; Wee have our rules,
And keepe a due Decorum; firéd thus,
Each Brain becomes his proper Pegasus.

EUDŒMON.
Poor Halon, how I pitty thee; and then,
Your reeling God is Chariot-drawne, by Men
Transform'd to Tigers, and to Panthers; bruit,
As ounce, or Pard'; and well the Chariot Suit.
The Women in the house, (for women must
Still close the Draught; wine ever ends in Lust,)
Like yauling Mœnades, their Iooes send
To the full-fraught, lest drinking there should End.
There my once sung Nicotiana keeps
Still the hearth warme, till panch-swolne Bromius sleeps;
And her Health-giveing odours madlie wasts,
To scalded palats, who have lost their tasts.
Iocosa there, the light-heel'd giddie Dame,
Must be another, or your mirth were Lame.
Poore drenched, drowned Soules; hardly to hope
That Eye (drinke-closéd still) can ever ope.
Have you said All, Halon? or you intend
Another Panegyricke? I attend;
For Since I was my selfe, I dare let out
My Ears to any thinge, yet keepe my Thought.

HALON.
Eudœmon, you mistake; the frantick rites
Of Bacchus were soe kept, in the dull nights
Of Ignorance; but drinking now, emproved,
Is growne an Art: and orgies, which behoov'd
A Thing soe necessarie, added are;
The old Abolisht and the new made cleare.
Fitt Ceremonies vsed, of Cap & knee,
That drinking now devotion seems to be;
Whilst (a new rite) Nicotiana's bound,
From purgéd Censers, to throw incense round;
Spreading her roabes, like many-folded Skyes,
Whilst all men busie are to sacrifize
Vnto the Ivie-crown'd; and wishes breath
Vpon his Altars, to bring Life or Death;
Courage and Witt, inspir'd by hidden means,
From his bright Flame, the Head and Heart attains.
Nothing soe difficult, or soe abstruse
Can be to Man, but easie is to vs;
And all the Subtle Knotts, which crabbéd Heads
Have twist, fall loose before vs into threds;
The Heavens make all things hard to thirsty Soules,
And only wine, encroaching Care controules.

EUDŒMON.
Soe the mad Roman, who to make more fine
His Platan Trees, drencht them in Shewers of wine;
Or as the late-past Summer, whose excesse
Of wett ruin'd those fruits calme deawes refresh;
You soake your soules, and by too large a flood,
Thistles and weeds grow, where the corne had Stood.
I will not say but wine may sometimes adde
Vnto the Genius of a Sober Head,
In Cups not lavish, by the well-made vse
Of Creatures, to that End, bestowed on vs;
Yet would you say? for I dare safely heare
All you can Adde of frenzy to this Eare;
Vnmoved, I sitt happie now, to see
My freedome to my fore-past vanitie;
Now, now I move; as whilome, in the bud
Of Innocence; and glide vpon the Flood
Of Life, with Pleasure; noe rude Stormes affright
My new-rigg'd vessel; noe distemper'd night
Now tears my brains; noe morning penitence
Belches the folly of my last offence;
But when the morning Spreads her dewey wings,
My Larke dare rise, to pay her offerings;
For now I live, to vse my selfe, and find
My Constitution to Health inclin'd;
A constant Temper dwells within my blood,
And I am all my owne, beyond the woo'd
Temptations you can bring; I now, possest
With calme Thoughts, boldly open all my brest:
What hinders Sober man to speake his heart?
And even the Secrets of his Soule, impart?
But drunkards, certaine none dare impious be;
They fatt themselves in their impietie,
And dare with horrid Arrogance pronounce
The glorie of their Sin; not wicked once,
But leudlie boasting it from time to time,
Make even theire Many, one-continued Crime.
I have bene gviltye, and he lives not free,
Who sold to his owne Lust and Infamie,
Dare goe a little further; even from thence
Cups come to Custome; Custome, Impudence.
Let me abhorre the Stupor of this Sin;
Which were enough, if nothing else came in,
To make it hated to a Soule that loves
Its owne felicitie, a mind that moves,
Worthy of its Creation, in the Light
Of Sober Reason, not bruit Appetite.

HALON.
These two, to me are one, or interchang'd,
Either is other; by the fancie rang'd
To the proportion and worth they seeme
To carry, in our varied esteeme.
What you in me call Appetite, Desire,
Is all my Reason; I see nothing higher;
That I submit to as my gviding Light,
And call it Reason, you call Appetite.
Whether shall wee appeale? the Iudgment binds
But from the Selfe-Tribunall of our Minds.

EUDŒMON.
Such Taverne-teachings please the wine-sprung mind
And giddie fancie roves about, to find
Excuses and evasions, to secure
Our dearling faults, though never soe impure.
What profuse wast and profane wishes rend
Immortall Ears! and sober minds offend
In lavish Cups! noe memorie retaining
Of what wee are; or ought of man remaining;
The Soule surpris'd in all its faculties;
Iudgment is Error; Witt, Velleities;
The vnderstanding, nothing but a Thin
Shadow of what wee once were happie in;
All the prærogative which Nature gave
Is swallowed in a Hogshead, now the grave
Of that immortall fire, which might be knowne
A Light to all the world, if kept our owne.

HALON.
Eudœmon, still you measure by the Square
Of your owne fancie, and in Small-beer ayre
Flutter with feeble wings; for who will thinke
You can be witty, that have left to drinke?
Bacchus, the great inspirer of our Soules
Has thus decreed All Water-Drinkers fooles.
'Tis wine, the Ioy of Life, the Strength of witt,
The fire of fancie, Edge of all Conceipt;
And Hypocrene it Selfe is but a Tale
To countenance dull Soules who drinke not Ale;
Our Brittish Bacchus; the true fountaine which
The Muses Love, and makes the fancie rich,
The Horse-hoofe never rais'd; but humane heeles
Make spring, when full-Swolne grapes their burthen feele;
Here will I sip, and to the Sacred Hest
Of Bacchus, offer with a gratefull brest,
The Tribute due; for All I have or know,
Or can desire, from his bright fountains flow.

EUDŒMON.
Dulnes it selfe might now ashaméd sitt,
To vtter such a follie; and is witt
Then drawne from Spiggots? or the Sacred flame
Of Rapture, set a Candle, to the Steame
Of drinke-washt tables. Let me rather pine
Witles and water-drinking, then love wine,
To make me seeme what I know I am lest,
A Witt. Oh, heaven! how happie doe I rest,
Free from the Clamour or Applause of such,
Who cannot praise Witt, and yet praise too much.
What things passe there for Witt! Scurrilitie
Runs there; the Mirth and Iest, Impietie;
Such heats I envie not. My water still
Affords me Health, and gives a readie Qvill
To vtter my free thoughts; though meanly clad,
My Genius suits; to which wine cannot Adde.

HALON.
Eudœmon, these faint pleasures cannot fire,
My Sangvine inclinations to desire
The happines you speake on. I almost
Misknow my selfe, to see how thou art lost.
May not a Beard appeare but still to preach?
I Apprehend it now, thou hopest to hatch
The goodlie Egge of Temperance, within
The full growne feathers of thy Cheekes and Chin;
And it may prove a Chicke worth all thy Care.
Keepe thy selfe warme with holines and Haire;
I know a fitter raiment to my backe;
The Misterie of all-Sufficing Sacke.

EUDŒMON.
Soe please thy follie-drenchéd Soule, to sitt
In drinke still warme, and never-wanting witt;
Nurse there a Sacke-sprung Basiliske, to slay
The foole which foster'd it, another day;
Then, all too late, the Ideot sees, his owne
Glorie, his Shame; his Ioy, destruction.
But trulie, Halon, if a Serious heart
Be worthy to advise, in time depart
From the bewitching Sottishnes of Sin.
That Follie, of the rest, if words might win
I could perswade; or if example might
Informe another, I have done thee right.

HALON.
Dost hope I may be recreant to my first
Dear principle of Drinking? I was nurst,
I thinke, begot, with wine; on Nisa bred,
And with the noble Bacchus fosteréd;
Shall I then be Apostata to all
My Education? Or the naturall
Instincts still pressing? 'Tis a good dull way
The posture you are in; but never may
I live to tread it. 'Twas an ill begun
Discourse of ours; for neither yet has won
Vpon the other; though I am afraid
Were not tomorrow next, thy words have made
Some fond Impression. Deare Eudœmon, see,
The Sun growes low; let not my coming be
Meerlie in vaine; to morrow you will meet;
And then thy Power, oh Bacchus! Let me see 't.

EUDŒMON.
Say to the Swains, Eudœmon is become
Himselfe againe; and means to stay at home;
Not Envie to the glorie of the preye,
But stricter Resolutions make him Stay;
For Hee, who such full meetings doth frequent;
Though he be free, can scarce be Innocent.

HALON.
Morall Philosophie! Come, let vs goe
Homeward apace; the night begins to grow
Vpon that Hill, and spreads an Eager arme
To involve vs all, by necessarie Charme.
Yet let vs not walke Silent; give your Song,
Eudœmon now, (or else you doe me wrong)
To vindicate your absence; whilst I bring
My verse to Bacchus; and his praises sing.

EUDŒMON.
Halon, if that be all, I dare excuse
Retirement, with a warrantable Muse;
Then lead wee out our flocks, and homeward wend,
Whilst the refracted West some Lights yet lend.

An Ecloge: Spoken by Damon and Amintas.

DAMON.
Amintas! (who our northerne feilds makest proud;
Whose Eye, then Phœbus more prevents that cloud,
Now, from the Southeast threatning,) ah, how long?
How many Summers since thy glorious Songe
Our Ayre enricht! growne foggie, since the time
Strephon contending, in an humble Rhime,
His Silvia prais'd, to thy Vrbanae's Eyes.
Deare Shepheard, now, (if our Societies
Seeme not vnworthy thee) that pipe assaye,
Which has made Short even the Longest Daye.

AMINTAS.
Damon, that Pipe is broke, and Numbers now
Amintas can noe more; my Braine and Brow
Is but one Cloud; if, Damon, I may heare
Thy better Notes, I lend a willing Eare.

DAMON.
My deare Amintas, Say what may it be,
(If a freind may partake) that troubles thee?
Are thy flockes faint? or doth Alexis faile
In freindships to thee? or (more Sad then All)
Is thy Vrbana false? a feare I durst
Scarce feare! but Love is Apt to feare the worst.
Say, Shepheard, to thy freind, what Torture may
Soe scorch thy Soule, to wash thy Eyes away.

AMINTAS.
If, Damon, my weake Spirrits may not beare
Soe great a Burthen, doe not blame a Teare;
Your feare, alas, is but too safe, too Iust;
Vrbana is,—is false, and strangelie Lost
To her first vowes; a prostitute or more,
To the Grand Paillard, proud to be his whore.
This but a part, though, ah! too much by this;
The rest I cannot Speake; for, Damon, 'tis
Soe beyond wonder, such a Prodigie,
It starts a Horror, everie Thought in Mee.

DAMON.
May it not Adde Affliction, to lay out
All thy mishap, my deare Amintas doe't;
Whilest I, with open Ears, thy Sorrowes gather
Into my brest; wee better suit together;
Let me (at lest in this) thy Rivall prove;
'Tis fitt, hee Share thy greife, whom thou dost Love.

AMINTAS.
The Storie's Long and Sad, but may Appeare
Perhaps, not tedious to a tender Eare:
You, Damon, are concern'd; your Loyaltie
Makes you a partner in the miserie;
And the strict tye of freindship 'twixt vs two
Emboldens me to vtter what I know.
Thus then it is; our folds and flocks, whileere
To Pan made Sacred; and his Steward here,
Next vnder Him wee honour; and noe knee
But vnto him did bend in fealtie;
His Ivorie Hooke; (made glorious by his Hand)
More then a Scepter, shinéd ore the Lande;
And wee inferiour Swains were taught to bring
Our Tribute-Lambes, and our fleece-offering
To this Great Shepherd; part of the increase
Which Hee preserved soe many yeare in Peace;
This was: but, Damon! now, wee may noe more
Performe or paye the Duties vs'd to fore.

DAMON.
Is Pietie a Sin? or Loyaltie
Now made a Crime? vnriddle it to mee;
For since I can remember, I was taught
To honour the Great Shepheard; and have brought
My frequent Tributes, with a willing Hand;
Who now soe bold, dare his iust rights withstand?

AMINTAS.
Ah Damon! latelie to another, Hee
Imparted Somewhat of his Roialtie;
A Cozen of the Blood, of Sex vnfitt
For Soveraigntie; yet Hee allow'd her Sitt
Next to his Throne; vnheeding what, too Late
Hee now repents; her ill-bestowéd State.
For when She now, by favour of his Eye,
Seem'd to the world a part of maiestie;
The giddie Heads who still delight in Change,
Fixe vpon Her the Light, and put a Strange
Glorie vpon Her; yet, it was but Ayre
And her owne Pride, made her appeare so faire;
For all the Nobler Shepherds were afraid
Her Rule might ruine what the other made;
Still our Great Shepherd, to him selfe Secure,
Is pleas'd with new Addresses made vnto Her:
From everie corner of this Iland flye
Papers, to establish her yonge Maiestie;
Hee, all the while remisse, is well content
To see how she can manage Government;
Lulled by her Sugred Sayings and the oft
Repeated vowes, which (ah) She never thought;
Hee from his owne Hand gives his Ivorie hooke,
Which even His Father and Himselfe had tooke
Of Pan, with Solemne vow; and now begins
Proud Zephirina to augment her Sins;
For what She only wisht, and durst not Act,
Power gives her Right, and Iustifyes the fact:
Now, by himselfe forsaken, many Swains
Leave him (alas) whom kind Shee entertains;
Still her power Spreads; the Axe is now put downe
Vnto the Roote; the ruine falls,—a Crowne:
Now those who were freinds, or in favour high,
To the Great Sheapherd, fall; for Royaltie
Admitts noe Rivall; and Supreme Estate
Nothing Approves but what it did Create.
What need I tell, Philarchus lost his Head?
Or Mirabella, strangelie banishéd?
Or how Penandro, now her Minion growne,
Must not by him be call'd in Qvestion
For highest Crimes? To offer it, were more
Then Regicide it Selfe had bene before;
And even those few which did attend Him then,
Rebells denounc't; Himselfe the worst of Men;
That now (alas!) he's forc'd (Soe powerles left)
In this remoter Countrie, thus to Shift.

DAMON.
Oh the Sad Day! Amintas, wee have seene
The former Glories of a King and Qveene;
Then Zephirina hardly had a Name;
At most, below any pretence of Claime;
Alas! what Safetie can our feilds Afforde
To Him, they must acknowledge yet their Lord?
Hee thinlie fenced with Loyall Hearts, may Stand,
But they (alas) want Armes to the strong Hand
Of Zephirina now. Our Townes are weake,
Our Numbers few, and farre away to seeke.
This Sought in Time, might have some Refuge bene,
When His owne Troopes were full amongst vs seene;
When noe Power visible could animate
Aspiring Treasons; now it is too late;
Now Matho, with an Iron yoake, has prest
Our Loyall Shoulders; now, Hee stands possest
Of that strong Towne, which by a King once rear'd,
May be another's Ruine to be fear'd:
What can his Hopes Suggest vnto Him here?
Wee All are Cowed, even Stupifyed with feare.

AMINTAS.
Soe is the Nation all; or rather lost,
In his neglect. They Careles are, almost,
And let the Threat'ning Billow over-run
Their fortunes, willing soe to be vndone;
A retchlesnes has now Seiz'd everie Mind,
Or a strange Tumor, newer things to find:
For never greater Disproportion dwell'd
Amongst Minds; All are Sunke, or overswell'd.
Hither our Maister, confident of Some
Yet Loyall Hearts, encourag'd was to come;
Far from the Reach of Zephirina's power,
Which everie day encreases more, and more;
Her late imperious Summons She hath sent,
And if it fayle, by force She will Attempt
His Sacred Person; 'tis alreadie done.
Her 'Complices in this Sedition,
Bring in their willing Armes, their Purses ope,
T' exasperate her Rage, and vrge a Hope
Of her Establishment. Leavies are made,
And Voluntarie Troopes goe to Her Ayde;
That now her forces in the feild Appeare
A formidable Armie; and Wee heare
Cornigerus, the Generall of the rout,
Must bring that Proiect speedilye about.

DAMON.
Alas! what Counsels may our Maister have
To avoyd this Torrent, and his Honour save?
Our Numbers are too weake, our wealth exhaust,
To Cope with such a numerous and vast
Army, as they are made to vs by fame;
Amintas, Say! what Succours can Hee frame?

AMINTAS.
'Tis (ah) but Small yet all Hee can pursue;
Necessitated thus, Hee, with the fewe
Willing to serve him, Westward now intend;
Where they perswade Hee will have many a freind;
However, he resolves at once to run
The hazard of his Life, with Losse of Crowne.
There, his Imperiall Standard will he place,
(If yet it be soe powerfull as it was,)
To call in everie Heart, and everie Hand,
T' assist his Right, and her rude force withstand:
This, his last Refuge, a wan hope, to bring
Himselfe to former Glories of a Kinge.

DAMON.
I doe not See what Succours can be brought,
Worthy of his Necessities or Thought;
For Zephirina everie Countie awes
With Edicts Strange, and never heard of Lawes;
Her Ministers, throughout the Kingdome spred,
Are Active to advance her late-rais'd Head;
All Mouths are full of Her; and everie Tongve
In her Name's Priviledge, can not speake wrong;
When our Great Maister but a By-word Stands,
And Groomes dare make a Iest of his Commands.
But Say, Amintas, for the Evening calls,
How comes thy bright Vrbana, to be false?

AMINTAS.
That, as a part of Sorrow, to the rest
Then may I adde, and poure out all my brest;
When Zephirina, in her obscure Cell
Livéd erewhile, Vrbana loved her well;
And though She cunning kept it from my Eare,
She wish'd her ever, what wee All now see her;
And her Ambitions did foment to all
Strange vndertakings; that I doe not Call
'Em worse, for worst they are. Noe sooner was
This Zephirina in the Royall place,
But false Vrbana, all her vowes made Light;
Her many former vowes, which Shee had plight,
And with new Oaths seal'd, for the single Sway
Of this Vsurper ioynes; and everie day
Adds to her rule. Vrbana Sweeps the round
Of all her Streets, for Ruffians to be found;
And all the Dregs of Men, by numerous Polls,
Swarme in, to fill vp Zephirinae's Rolls;
These Polymorphus leads in, to assist
The new-rais'd Tirranie of What they List;
And thus Vrbana, (not to her owne Lust
But Zephirinae's Baud,) has quitt her Trust.
What shall I more? What you imagine more,
Vrbana is of wicked. Thus the Sore
You now have seen, which wounds Amintas' brest:
What else remains can never be exprest.

DAMON.
Though further Wee removed, not lesse concern'd
As some have taught; a Dictate never learn'd
By loyall Minds; who know noe Limit to
Their Zeale, or a proportion to their vow;
My brest is full as thine, with the same fire,
And what I can not vtter, I admire;
With Horror wounded, a darke Extacie
Runs through my Soule, in everie facultie.

AMINTAS.
Ah, Damon! though wee bleed, yet thinke, how more
The Arrow wounds our Maister. Wee are poore;
And though our Indyviduall Selves may seeme
Near in our Eyes, wee are of noe Esteeme;
Poore Shepherds may be ruin'd everie Day,
Without a Noyse, and noe Man left to Say
'Twas pittye; for their narrow Motions are
But in the Sphære of a Particular.
Princes are set a Step beyond their fates;
They never suffer Single; forméd States,
The Structurs of well-setled Polities,
And changéd Government; their Exequies
Are ever made; and not the meanest Hee
But falls a Part in ruin'd Monarchye.

DAMON.
What may wee doe? the Shepheard is not free
To Sing his Thoughts, vnder the Tirranie
Of this expected Rage; our humble verse
Now carries Danger to still Iealous Ears;
Wee must retract what wee have sung before,
And Numbers raise (which Muses all abhorre)
To Celebrate the Glories of a late
Vsurpéd Power, and most deforméd State.
Sing let me never, Phœbus, if I raise
To thriving Treasons any note of Praise.

AMINTAS.
Noe matter, Swaine, Apolloe's Harpe vnstrunge,
Was seen the other Day, and careles hung
Vpon the Willowes. Pan, his Syrinx made
A pipe, has throwne away, and left the Trade.
The Muses Silent, everie Swain strucke mute,
And Verses now fall, like vntimely fruite;
For what is left to Sing? Our Glorie's gon,
Our Loves are Lost, or not worth thinking on.

DAMON.
More happines have wee: (though Miserie
Surround vs All) yet in our Loves wee're free;
And Shepheard's humble Loves wee not the least
Of happines determine, if not Best.

AMINTAS.
Had Such bene mine, Soe had I happie lived,
My flocks still kept their fold, and I had greived
Noe Strumpet's loosenes; then my Pipe had Still
Bene pleasant; now, a worne and wearied Qvill:
Damon, noe more, for longer Shadowes fall
From Westerne Hills, and Shepheards homeward call.

An Ecloge: Spoken by Hilas and Strephon.

HILAS.
If, Strephon, yet our Sorrowes doe not presse
Too deepe; applye that Pipe, which has, ere this,
Enricht ye proudest Groves, & taught delight
To dullest Soules; that Power which vanquisht quite
The coy cold brest of Cœlia; did surprize
Fixt Galatea, to whose brow all Eyes
Pay'd their iust Homage; to all Passions cold,
Rapt by thy verse, Shee could noe longer hold;
That Power may yet availe; not Stones & Trees
May only be enliv'né Destinies
Are not inexorable to the cleare
Proportion of our Thoughts, when they appeare
In well-weighd Numbers; yet, if not too late,
Repeale the Doome of a Dire Threat'ning fate.

STREPHON.
Too late will fall our best Endeavours now;
'Twas but when easie Peace made Smooth ye Brow,
And soft Pipes might be heard; that Love and Witt
Gave Verse a Charter, soe too infinite.
The Dreams of Fancie lull'd our idle Brains
And form'd a privilidge, which but remains
A meteor now, t' Astonish weaker Eyes;
But wiser Heads admit noe prodigies.
Let rather Silence seize all Tongves, then bring
One Accent not to gratulate the King,
The Lord of All wee are; whose Equall Rule
Made Muses pleasant to the noble Soule;
And did inspire Each brest, informe each braine,
With flame, in wonders of his happie Raigne;
But now, the Time is Come All wee can Say,
Sounds like the Horrors of Departed Day.

HILAS.
Then, in this Night of Sorrow, let vs bring
Our Grones to the Disasters of the King;
Sigh out a Storie to ye pious Ears
Of Men, who when wee're dead, may read this verse.
The high-soul'd Eupathus dare now disclose
A Storie iust to Truth, in (his owne woes,)
His Maister's many Sorrowes; ye Swolne rage
Of this Rebellion, and affront the Age
With a cleare Pen; a hand by Truth led on,
White as her Brow; vnswai'd by Passion;
For 'tis a Crime noe Time shall put away
To place Affection where sole Truth should Sway;
T' insert our Interests, or wand'ring be
In Selfe-borne Hoti'es, from the Historie.

STREPHON.
Ah, Hilas, but that Qvill! what Hand but must
Erre in the Storie? manie Things of Trust,
Some byasséd by Passions, wee relate;
Some wee inforce, Some wee extenuate;
Too sensibly severe or too remisse,
Wee shall but wander; be the Glorie His.

HILAS.
Leave wee the lofty Elme & spreading Plane,
This crooked Alder better fits our Straine;
Here, in the Nettles, stung more by our owne
Still-seeding Sorrowes, wee may greive and grone.
Say, Strephon, since our Maister went, what may
Conduce to bring on this vnhappie Day?

STREPHON.
Dire, as ye Smiting Haile to new-ean'd Lambs,
Or Summer Shewers vnto their late-shorne Dams,
This Scourge has followed vs; Thunder alone
Not strikes the Cædar; Shrubs are overthrowne
In this strange Clap; Brambles & Thistles are
In the Concussion not exempt their Share.
Ill, therefore, did Antiquity discourse
Security, to this all-swallowing force;
Though, to ye Pine, a thousand Shrubs may be
Vn-valued, yet they fall, as well as Hee.
Nor may wee safely say, when winds impent,
Make Pelion tremble to Astonishment,
The minor Hills are free; their little wombes
Feele the same Collicke, pinch't in narrower rooms;
But who observes the Dazye's rise or fall?
The Royall Tulip stands ye Care of all;
And Everie Eye markes its progressive threds,
To give an Estimation as it spreads;
When Hyacinths and common Lillyes spring,
To Dye againe, as were there noe such Thing.

HILAS.
This Banke our Couch, wee may discus the sad
Event of Things. The Glories wee once had
Are witheréd: our Ioy, Anxietie;
Our empty Stalls now speake our Povertie.
Who boasts of heards or flocks? ye mazors which
Our pious Sires left, not to make vs rich,
But to remember them; these Legacies
Were counted Sacred; I, my Selfe, have twice
Recover'd ye carved Boale my grand sire left,
At a great price; yet now againe bereft.

STREPHON.
Trifles ill fitt our verse, though our verse be
It selfe a Trifle, to the Dignitie
Of what wee would report. Our humble Qvill
Our owne mishaps may vtter; but what Stile
Carries a Buskin deep enough to Sing
Royall Distresses and lament a King?
Call Suckling from his Ashes, reinspir'd
With an Elizian Trance; soe fitly fir'd
To Sing a Royall orgie. There Soules move
Without their Passions, how to feare or Love;
Enraptur'd with divine Beatitude,
Beyond our Earth. Hee, while he liv'd, pursu'd
Those noble flights, as might become the name
Of Maiestye; made greater in his flame.
Now, might he rise, earth-freed! His only Qvill
May write of this; Panacean Asphodil
And fresh Nepenthe (yet a while set by
The second Course vnto mortalitie)
Can but infuse what wee in fancie gleane
From barren mountains, horse-rais'd Hyppocrene.
Oh! he might Speake, or Ionson's numerous Soule
(Now great as Pindar's) might these Gests enroll;
But then, alas, the greife is where it lay;
They sing too high; wee know not what they Say;
For earth is dull, and may not comprehend
Those heights of wonder which they else have pen'd:
How should wee stupid be? how meerlie mud,
Below our generation? when the flood
Of devine fury, might enscale our Ears
T' astonishment! For verse there, is not verse;
'Tis more then all our fancy can attaine;
A measur'd Idiome, to make cleare and plaine
What here, in confus'd Notions, wee descrye,
By iarring Accents; a iust Harmonye.
I am but where I was, lost in my Selfe
With thought of Somewhat; I have found ye Shelfe
Still fatall to my over-haughty Qvill;
The Syrtes of my Thought confounds my will.
Noe, Hilas, wee, though happily as great
In Loyaltie, for numbers have no seat;
Farre from the Sun, & him whose rayes shoote more
True Life to numbers then all Phœbus power;
Let vs of lower things report. Who knowes
Our late-made Laureate, (constant to his vowes)
Has done what wee intend? to which our notes
Would sound more harsh then plash-full marish throats;
Or Cleveland, full in fancy (whose Sole praise
Is but his fault) to these great flights might raise
A wing, for everye eye to fixe vpon,
And breath a Note worthy Attention.
For mighty Epicks are not worthilye
By all attempted; & may rather I
Suffer to creepe, then striving how to flye,
Fall in the rise, to greatest infamye;
For every thing is happie in its first
Existence given; & only but accurst
As from its Nature it may turne or slide,
Whether above, below, too strict, or wide.
All minds have their dimensions, as all things:
Some belly-sweep the Earth, & some, have wings
To cut the purer Ayre; Some, midly move,
Scorne what's below, & envie what's above,
Though ignorant in both; & did wee know
Perhaps it were but as I thinke it now,
Each in his Station blest; & something may
Disturbe each in the progresse of his way.
Let me not fill you therefore with my owne
Strange fancies, which exceed proportion,
To what I apprehend. If a Slow Muse
May Sing her owne, 'tis well; if not, excuse
My wanderings; Let stronger pineons trye
A flight into the Sphere of Maiestie!
Me, peace-surrounded, mirtles may secure;
But thistles now my burning Browes immure.
Let, let those healthfull Temples wch maintaine
Daphne still verdant, high thoughts entertaine;
And gaine ye Glorie of a great pursuite.
Wee envie not, because wee can't doo't;
But what our Admirations may Adde,
To their Endeavours, shall be truly paid.

HILAS.
May Still his Ears be Adder-stung, who not
Attends thy Song; where man is not forgot;
For he has gain'd enough who hears thy verse;
Not selfe, not man, but All things to reherse.
This, willingly I heare, and who soe well
Can Sing his owne, I must expect can tell
Worthily, what may Adde vnto the Glorye
Of our dread Maister, in his dismall Storye.

STREPHON.
Thus, then, may Pietie enforce vs make
Expressions, where noe Tongve can rightly speake;
Soe may the Ant, by her short Steps, contrive
To scale the Summit of Mount Tenerif,
And perch within ye Clouds; as our verse send
One Accent fitt to what wee Apprehend.
How many Times deluded by our owne
Weake hopes, though careles how to bring 'em on,
Have wee expected, with too confident
A Challenge, the King's re-establishment,
From probable coniectures? When his low
And vnprovided Army made them bow
At Keinton; vndisturb'd he did posses
Himselfe of Oxford, with a faire encrease
Of many Noble Triumphs; Towns & forts
Surrendred daylie, to enlarge his Courts;
Great Battles fought, where, though noe victorie
Can be reported, yet Equallitye
Stands not against a Scepter. Rebell Powers,
Till All be vanquisht, are noe conquerours.
But the Convincing Right, which Princes bring,
Secures them victors, in not suffering.
Brought from a King to nothing, Hee, of Late,
From Nothing had attain'd his former State;
And Rebell mouths, (who speake noe truth, vnles
Evicted 'bove their Rage) did then confesse
Him master of ye feild, and seem t' encline,
(Enforc'd beyond their power) to a designe
(Which plausible enough) did more invade
Then Armes could doe; They sev'rall Treaties made:
This must subvert; for Princes, in their course
Of Victories when staied, run backe, of force.
Here once to vndertake & not proceed,
Is to retire. In Pleurisies to bleed
Gives a Recoverie; but let it rise
One very little, & the partye Dyes.
Still our great Maister, willing to compose
These fatall Iarres, accepts what they propose,
As farre as stood with honour or his oath,
Beyond his Interest. Oh the strange growth
Of Treasons! Like to Adders, hid in Brakes,
Are feeble wormes; new-clad, destroying Snakes;
They lurke, and they appeare, act, or contrive
To bring on the designe at which they drive;
And ever, in compliance, they renew
Their Scales & Strength; enabled to subdue
Th' vnwarie opposite; recovered in
These Slye advantages, againe begin
They to appear themselves, & then contemne
What they propos'd, or what Hee offer'd them.
Now, strong in Armes, they strangely iustifye
Their Actings Lawfull; and from Loyaltie
(Their first-borne plea) they now put in their owne
Interests, without Qualification.
Thus thriving Treasons still are Insolent;
Rebellion treads beyond a President;
And State-Subverting Magicke has a feate
Beyond all Rule was ever spoken yet.
The Florentine prescribes to duller fooles;
But Stronger flow from all relaxéd Soules.
What may I adde? Where force could not prevaile,
Phillip's ne'r-failing Batterie must assaile;
Honour made merchandice; & Loyaltie
Was set to price; these Bag-Granadoes flie
Still to Advantage Garrisons' Revolt;
And their feild Armies march, without a Halt.
The King, this while growne weake; his party all
Distracted, from their first and generall
Engagement of obedience; now pursue
Their private Ends; Honour & profitt drew
Some in to serve; Ambition, Place, & Power
Made others Loyall; till (alas, noe more
Wee now see left Him; then the Stragling few
Which into severall Garrisons he drew;
For nothing else is left, & ev'n the cheife
Strictly beseig'd, expecting noe releife,
Must yeild of force; where (ah), (why must I say
What I abhorre?) his sacred Person may
Be captivated theirs. Not may, but must,
Inevitably fall, to their vniust
Tirrannous wills. What then will be too small
For them to doe, when they have gotten All?
Ah, Hilas! I am full; my passions breake
Vpon my Reason, that I cannot Speake.

HILAS.
'Tis Lamentable Sad; and doth display
A certaine Ruine in Phœnomena.
Some men Sad fates attend; & to be borne
A Prince is not secure; the certaine turne
Of Destinie's darke wheele involveth All;
And Scepters, to prœordred Ends must fall.
But Strephon, yesterday Amintas told
The King's escape from Oxford, as a bold
And certaine Truth; how Hee, with other two
Whom he might trust, came out; Himselfe in low
Condition, as a Servant did attende,
To secure better what Hee did intende;
And now before beseiged Newarke, Hee
Is with the Scotts; in what Capacitie,
Hee did not Say; but vpon overture
Formerly made, he hopes to be Secure;
And to engage that Nation, who has bene
The Greatest Cloud his Glories yet has seene.
From this, Some expect wonders; others hott
Boyle out proverbiall fears—A Scott's a Scott.
What may be ye event, Time will produce;
And wee all gape to heare ye next daye's newes.

STREPHON.
Wee can expect from thence but little good;
A nation branded faithles, who have stood
Opposite ever to his rule; they first
Blew vp the Embers which wee now see burst
A flame too great to quench. Yet ere I stray
Too farre, t' asperse that Nation; by the way
Let me exempt Montrose's glorious hand,
The Loyall Gourdons, & brave Craford's band;
Mac-donnel's Puissance, which still maintain'd
The Royall Cause; and All who (never stain'd)
Have suffer'd for their master; humbly low
As I can fall, to these my selfe I bow;
Who have recall'd my enrag'd Qvill, which might
Have printed deepe to Time; for to recite
The frauds in Cambel, or the periuries
Of Hamiltons, the Lesley's Subtleties,
Might move a better temper; though noe doubt
Some of these Names not suffer in the Blot
Their Cheifs have spread vpon their families;
May they, the gverdon of their Loyalties
Have from a better Pen; and now, the King
Is pleas'd to refuge there; may ev'n these bring
The long-spred Calumnye of a loud fame,
A Sin on those who shall traduce their name;
Yet let vs feare, and I doe feare, he not
Shall be a lyar made, who has that thought.

HILAS.
'Tis but too probable their Ends may be
Their Interest. But, Strephon, certainly
Some Invitations, with assurance, must
Make the King give his Person to their trust,
Though they be false as Hell? And how a man
Of his high Reason, (once deceiv'd) ere can
Againe be brought to trust 'em, I not see;
Being insnar'd by former periurie,
To this now falling ruine; may it not
Be his too much Affection to the Scott
Enieopards him? But rather from a ground
In Iudgment he may trust 'em! Had he found
Former performances, and not a Stale
Made of things Sacred to their owne availe,
Something might move; at lest, wee more remote
(This granted) feare, what cannot be forgot.

STREPHON.
This Great King! this Good Man! For he was both,
Till Treason cropt the one, to give a growth
More visible to his more valued fruite;
And this Hee is, even in their Repute.
This Good King Saw a Sphere beyond our Sence,
His Iudgment is almost Intelligence;
And what wee, groveling, may surmise, he reads
Distinctly Acted. Why he thus proceeds
Let not vs question. In a wracke wee trust
A Sayle-yard, or a Planke of broken Chest,
To carrie vs. When ere wee put to Sea,
We'd know how kauk'd & trim'd ye Ship may be.
Extremity, one hazard, must assay,
And fate determines but the better way.
But, Hilas! ere aware, the Sun declines,
And longer Shadowes make yond Poplars, Pines;
Home let vs hast, & what remains reherse
To our Sad Pipes, in an alternate verse.

THE SONGE.

HILAS.
'Tis Sad,
What wee must Sing;
A Storie made
To pussle verse;
For (ah) what number can reherse
The Sorrowes of the King?

STREPHON.
Oh, Sing noe more,
But throw away your oaten Reeds.
What voice or Qvill
Can reach this note? the Thistle seeds
Where Roses sprung before,
And Lillyes grac'd ye Hill.

HILAS.
Then farewell Softer Layes!
This Sullen Straine
Is musicall, and worthy praise.
When wee complaine,
Wee may be loud;
And Greife disord'red is not rude.

STREPHON.
Let Love & Witt
Polish smooth Accents, & affect a Cleare
Current in Numbers; Sorrow here
Is all our Muse; & what may fitt
So deepe a Passion, wee now bring,
Tears, Grones, & Sighes, attendants to the King.

CHORUS.
Then breake our Pipes, while wee forgett All verse,
And make it out in Sighs, in grones, and Tears.