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Clarastella

Together with Poems occasional, Elegies, Epigrams, Satyrs. By Robert Heath
Heath, Robert (fl. 1636-1659)

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To my honoured friend Mr R.H. on his rich Poems and Satyrs.
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POEMS, &c.
  
The Temple of Virtue.
  
On a dust got in Clarastella's eie.
  
On Clarastella singing to the Eccho at Aythorn Church in Kent.
  
On Loving at first sight.
  
On a black mole on Clarastella's faire check.
  
Bleeding at the nose at Clarastella's approach.
  
Seeing Her Dancing.
  
To her having got a great Cold.
  
The Invocation to Cupid.
  
To one blaming my high-minded Love.
  
On Clarastella's Picture drawn very like her.
  
On Mrs. E. H. having red haire on her head, and on her left side a pure white lock growing.
  
Amoris Somnium. To Clarastella.
  
On Clarastella singing.
  
A Love Dialogue between Damon and Stella.
  
Clarastella playing sweetly on the Lute.
  
To Clarastella. Loves enterteinment.
  
On Clarastella walking in the Snow that dissolved assoon as it came near her or the ground she trod on.
  
To Clarastella. Loves Silence.
  
Clarastella distrusting.
  
To Clarastella affrighted at the sight of a Cats fiery eies in the dark, which caused her to shreik.
  
On a Fleabite espied on her fair hand.
  
On the taking of an Amethist ring from off Clarastella's finger as she was sleeping.
  
Loves Expiration.
  
On a Christal Watch presented to Clarastella.
  
Of Love and Liking.
  
Dialogue between Sylvio and Mirtillo.
  
To Clarastella. Loves Constancie.
  
To Clarastella upon a favour received from her which she tied in my hat.
  
Clarastella's Indictment.
  
On the loss of a Gold-open-ring in which some of Clarastella's hair was enclosed.
  
To Clarastella saying she would commit her selfe to a Nunnerie.
  
The Quære. What is Love?
  
To Clarastella on St. Valentines day morning.
  
To Clarastella in a storme at Sea.
  
To her, the Storm ceasing.
  
On Clarastella walking in her Garden.
  
On the loss of Clarastella's black fan.
  
To Clarastella on a Nosegay of flowers which she wore at her bosome.
  
Song.
  
On Clarastella discovered sleeping in her bed.
  
To her at departure.
  
Elegiack Song.
  
To Cupid. Song.
  
To a Lady wearing a Looking-glass at her girdle.
  
To Clarastella.
  
The Farewel to Clarastella.
  
On the Report of Clarastella's death.
  
To a Painter limning a Curtezan.
  
On the young and fair Mrs M.H. her hair being unfortunately burnt by chance in the candle as she was Combing her head at night.
  
Writ on Clarastella's Busk.
  
Deploring Clarastella's Inconstancie.
  
Loves Hæsitation.
  
To Clarastella admiring her black Eies and Hair.
  
To Clarastella complaining of my long kisses.
  
To Clarastella. Why Lovers walk round.
  
A Pastoral Protest of Love by Damon to Stella.
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Occasional POEMS
  
To an old Gentlewoman that would have her Picture drawn.
  
Epithalamium Amatorium
  
On the strange unfortunate breaking of a Glass in a Tavern.
  
Drinking on a rainy day.
  
To one that hearing I had some faculty in Poesie, simply requested me to write somewhat on his dear wife lately dead.
  
On Copernicus his opinion of the earths turning round.
  
To one that was so impatient with the tooth-ach that he would not rest til all his teeth were drawn forth.
  
On Whip the Preaching Coachman.
  
On the unusual cold and rainie weather in the Summer. 1648.
  
Farewel to passionate Love.
  
The Excuse.
  
Equalitie
  
To a friend. Ode.
  
A sudden Phansie at Midnight.
  
On a Map of the World accidentally faln into the water and spoiled.
  
Upon the sight of an old but very deformed woman.
  
On the late Sect of the Adamites.
  
To a Ladie on the Death of her little Dog.
  
In Crumenâ Vacuum an non?
  
To a Friend wishing peace.
  
Song in a siege.
  
On the Creeple souldiers marching in Oxford in the Lord Thr. Cottington's Companie.
  
Refrigerium.
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ELEGIES.
  
On the Death of the young and pious Ladie Mrs C. P.
  
Epicedium On the beautiful Lady Mrs A. K. unfortunately drowned by chance in the Thames in passing the Bridge.
  
On the Death of the excellent fair Lady, the Lady A.R.
  
On the losse of Mr N.W. his three finggers cut off at the battel of Edgehil, he being both a Poet and a Musitian.
  
Nænia Upon the death of my dear friend T.S. Esquire, slain at the first fight at Newbery, 1645.
  
Upon the lingring death of the Virtuous Mrs L.H.
  
Upon the Death of the truly valiant Sir Bevil Grenvil slain.
  
Upon the unfortunate death of the truly gallant and noble Gent. Ed. Sackvil, Esquire.
  
Elegie Upon the death of that thrice valiant Lord, the Lord Bernard Stewart, slain in the fight neer VVest-Chester.
  
On the Death of that most famous Musician Mr VV. Lawes, slain in this unhappy Civil Warr.
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EPIGRAMS.
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The first Book.
  
To the Reader of my Epigrams and Satyrs.
  
To a lacivious Blackamoore Woman.
  
To Cosmus.
  
On Lieutenant Catch.
  
To one that after ten years studie, brought forth a lamentable work.
  
On rich Lock.
  
To the Printer.
  
On Galla her going to a Nunnerie.
  
On Marcus.
  
To Sullen.
  
On Cleombrotus.
  
To a Travellour.
  
On the Ladie Seem-pol.
  
On Sir Gervas Loftie.
  
To the Reader.
  
Epitaph on a Poor Alchymist.
  
Why men are so unlike.
  
To Madam Moyle on her Picture.
  
Epitaph on a very fat man.
  
To Clois.
  
On the English Mounsieur.
  
On Philautus.
  
On Nab and Plodwel.
  
To Lupa.
  
On Priske and Galla.
  
To a fat Usurer.
  
On Wylde.
  
On Smart.
  
On Brisk.
  
On Mopsa a Chambermaide.
  
To fat Apicius.
  
On a deaf man and his blind wife.
  
On Lena.
  
Why Justice is painted blind.
  
Of Love Sonnets.
  
To Sir Gregorie Nonsense.
  
To spend-fast a Gamster.
  
To the Ingenious Reader.
  
On Sullen.
  
To Pistor.
  
On a fruitful Merchants wife.
  
To a painted Whore.
  
To Brisk.
  
To Jeffry the Kings dwarfe.
  
To Overwise.
  
On Mounsieur Finedress.
  
On Philautus.
  
To Gripe.
  
On Lurch the match-contriver.
  
To the Reader.
  
On Proud.
  
To his dear friend H. N.
  
To Gripe and Holdclose.
  
To Gallus.
  
On Bib.
  
Of Loving Husbands.
  
On Luscus.
  
On Stut.
  
On the strange Death of Eschylus a Poet.
  
On Cob.
  
On Cleopatra.
  
On an Inveighing Poetaster.
  
The Dedication to Momus.
  
On Dul.
  
On Accismus.
  
On Tucca.
  
To Rash.
  
To Crispinus.
  
On Howdee.
  
To Brave.
  
On Venterwit.
  
On Braggadochio Cit.
  
On Wylde.
  
On Childish love.
  
On Mr Spendall.
  
On Lawyer Say-much.
  
To Medicus on Tucca.
  
To Vetus an old Antiquary.
  
On Fine.
  
On the Drunkards lavishness.
  
On Poetizing Momus.
  
On Linus.
  
On Gallus.
  
On Histrio.
  
To a Tobaccoseller.
  
To the Reader.
  
To Bankes.
  
To the Physicians.
  
To Lupa.
  
Epitaph on Bibulus.
  
On Histrio.
  
To Gut.
  
To Simple.
  
To Brisk.
  
On Nano being angry.
  
To my Reader.
  
To one that asked me why I would write an English Epigram after B. Johnson.
  
On Galla.
  
To Nab.
  
Certain modest deprecations against my malevolent Detractour.
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Epigrams. Lib. 2.
  
To the gentle Reader.
  
To the Lady Phanton.
  
On Lying.
  
Epitaph on John Newter.
  
A Question about Law.
  
To my Book-seller.
  
On Mr Fanning the Engastrometh.
  
On the Invention of Printing and Guns.
  
To Megæra.
  
On Plot.
  
To VV.B. a smal Poet.
  
The Stonie Age.
  
To Captain Nym.
  
To Mutus.
  
To Jealous.
  
On Taurus.
  
On Swill.
  
On Resolute Bat.
  
To Veta an old Shrew.
  
To Big.
  
To Mæchus.
  
On Captain Sharke.
  
To Boldface.
  
To Phydias a Painter.
  
On Chœril.
  
On Stupro.
  
On Swillmore.
  
On Brave.
  
On Pure.
  
On Dull.
  
On Sir Sullen Haughtie.
  
To his worthy friend T.S. Esquire.
  
To Pantagus.
  
To Lautus.
  
On Prophane.
  
On Bib.
  
The effects of Brainsick's letters.
  
On Mr Ap-Taffie Shentilman of Wales.
  
To an Irish-man.
  
To Spruce.
  
To Formall.
  
On Swift.
  
The Wisdome of this age.
  
On Priscus.
  
On Proud.
  
On Doctor Emperick.
  
On Bib.
  
On Nokes.
  
To his friend and Companion Mr H.N.
  
To Levinus.
  
On Vulpe.
  
Blessed Ignorance.
  
To a poore Begger.
  
On Thais her Bastard.
  
On Gamster.
  
Epitaph on the Preaching Cobler How.
  
On Sir John Lackland.
  
On Cosmo.
  
On Lowsi-Patch.
  
On Light.
  
On a fire in a Town.
  
Epitaph on Hocas Pocas.
  
To one that talked finely.
  
To Cosmo on his fair scolding wife.
  
On Silly.
  
To Momus.
  
On Bib.
  
To Moore.
  
To Madam Cr. wearing a lookinglass at her Girdle.
  
On Squire Huffe.
  
On Philip Soupe and Jone his wife.
  
On Poet Cordus a Rimer.
  
On Fusk.
  
To an old deformed Woman.
  
To Cit.
  
To Plagiarie.
  
To Lysippus a Barber.
  
To a corrupt Judge.
  
Lydia encountered.
  
On Gaming.
  
On Brag.
  
To Cosmo.
  
On Mounsieur Congee.
  
On Gripe.
  
To Harsh.
  
To Cupid.
  
On proud Mrs. Minx.
  
On three Knights without spurs.
  
On Copernicus his opinion who thought the earth went round.
  
On Doctour Love-Self.
  
To my smal friend with a great beard.
  
To Ignorant Zoile.
  
To the Reader.
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SATYRS.
 1. 
SATYR 1.
 2. 
SATYR 2.
 3. 
SATYR 3.
 4. 
SATYR 4.

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Dialogue between Sylvio and Mirtillo.

Syl.
Tel me (if ever you did feel
The pow'r of Cupids fatal steel)
Why the young Tyrant ads disdein
Thus to compleat a true loves pain?
29

Why faithful Lovers seldom prove
Belov'd again of those they love?

Myrt.
Oh 'tis because true Lovers are
Too servil fond, and Women care
For things though good if easie, lest:
The dear and hard to get please best.
For should we them but less adore,
They'd punish less and love us more.

Syl.
But when the Amorist doth find
His love rebukt by some unkind
Repulse, why doth he yet admire?
And with sick hopes stil feed desire?
Himself afflicting thus in vain
With hopes of what he cann't obtein?

Myrt.
Ah Sylvio! Love is a disease
That doth o'th' vital spirits ceaze,
Whose dregs time only must expel:
Hunger in sick folks doth foretel
Deaths sad approach, so lovesick men
When that's a dying rave agen.

Syl.
Why doth he not then strugling trie
Or to shake off this Lethargie,
Or as some peevish sick men use,
Deny'd what they would have, refuse
All comfort, and with like disdein
Since She despises hate again?

Myrt.
True lov's not like an Ague fit
That doth of cold and heat admit;
'Tis a quotidian feaver that
With constant heat doth thirst create.
That with its warmth doth make each day
Summer, and knows no Month but May.

Repent not then thy wel plac't love, though she
With the like coyness slight its modestie!
For who asks doubting lest he should obtein,
Instructs his Mistress to a coy disdein.
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