Ayres, and dialogues :: :: University of Virginia Library

Amintor.
See, see! my Chloris, my Chloris comes in yonder Bark:
Blow gently winds, for if ye sink that Ark,
you'l drown the world with tears, and at one breath,
give to us all a universal death:
Hark, hark how Arion on a Dolphin playes,
to my sweet Sheepherdess his roundelayes:
See how the Sirens flock to wait upon her,
as Queen of Love, and they her Maids of honor.
Behold, Great Neptune's risen from the deep
with all his Tritons, and begins to sweep
the rugged waves into a smoother form,
not leaving one small wrinkle of a storm:

Mark how the winds stand still, and on her gaze;
See how her beauty doth the fish amaze;
the Whales have begg'd this boon of wind and weather,
that on their backs they may convey her hither;
And see she Lands just like the rising Sun,
that leaves the Brynie Lake when night is done:
Fly, fly Amintor to thy Envi'd bliss,
and let not th'Earth, rob thee of her greeting kiss.

Constancy protested.

[1]

Oft have I swore, I'de love no more;
Yet when I think on thee,
Alass I cannot give it o're
But must thy captive be;
So many sweets and graces dwel
About thy lips and eyes,
That whosoever once is caught must ever be thy prize.

2

Sure thou hast got some cunning net
Made by the god of Fire,
That doth not only catch mens hearts
But fixeth their desire.
For I have laboured to get loose
Some dozen years and more,
And when I think to be releas'd
I'me faster than before.

3

Then welcome sweet captivity,
I see there's no relief,
Yet though she steal my liberty,
I'le honor still the theife
And when I cannot hope to see
Thee Mistris of my pain,
My comfort is that I do love
Where I am lov'd again.

Counsel to a Maid.

[1]

Chloris , when e're you do intend
To venture at a Bosome-friend,
Be sure you know your Servant well,
Before your liberty you sell;
For Love's a feaver in young, or old,
That's sometimes hot, and sometimes cold;
And men you know when e're they please
Can soon be sick of this disease.

2

Then wisely chuse a Friend that may
Last for an age, not for a day;
Who loves thee not for Lip or Eye,
But from a mutual Sympathie:
To such a Friend this heart ingage,
For he will court thee in old age,
And kiss thy shallow, wrinkl'd brow
With as much joy as he doth now.

Love despis'd.

[I]

In love? Away, You do me wrong,
I hope I ha' not liv'd so long
Free from the treach'ry of your Eyes,
Now to be caught and made a prize:
No, Lady, 'tis not all your Art
Can make me and my freedome part.

II

In Love! 'tis true, with Spanish wine,
Or the French juice Incarnadine,
But truly not with your sweet face,
This dimple, or that hidden grace;
Ther's far more sweetnesse in pure wine,
Then in those lips or eyes of thine.

III

Your god you say can shoot so right
Hee'l wound a heart i'th darkest night;
Pray let him throw away a dart,
And try if he can hit my heart:
No Cupid, if I shall be thine,
Turn Ganimed, and fill us wine.

[Come fil's a cup of Sherry]

Come fil's a cup of Sherry

Come fil's a cup of Sherry, and let us be merry, there shall nought but pure wine, make us love-sick or pine; wee'l hug the cup and kiss it, wee'l sigh when e're we miss it, for 'tis that that makes us jolly, and sing Hy trolly lolly.

Hopelesse love cur'd by derision.

[1]

What? wilt thou pine, or fall away,
Because thy Daphne says thee nay?
Wilt cross thine arms, or willow wear,
Because that Shee is so severe?
Fye Shepherd, Fye, this must not bee,
Thy Daphne then will laugh at thee.

2

No, if She needs will be unkind,
On somewhat else divert thy mind:
Go sport with wanton Amarillis,
And dance with lovely nut-brown Phillis:
For Love's a shadow will deny
To follow thee, until thou sly.

3

Then Choridon, do not despair
For Daphne, whom we all know fair;
Let no proud Beauty on our Plains
Destroy thy youth with her disdains:
But if thou find her scorning thee,
Think thus, She was not born for mee.

A young Maids Resolution.

[I]

Goe young man, let my heart alone,
'Twil be a pris'ner unto none;
Nor will I Cupids shackles wear,
Since Lovers laws are so severe:
Love is my slave, while I despise;
But once content, hee'l tyrannise.

II

'Tis onely Beauty you admire,
And that's the object of Desire,
Which by degrees burns to a flame,
And hence Love first receiv'd its name.
Then young man give me leave to doubt
Since Love's a fire, and sires will out.

Cupid no god.

[I]

I prethee Love take heed or else I shall blaspheme,
And swear that thy great deity is nothing but a dream.

II

How canst thou be a god
When subtle womens hearts
Are grown so wise
To blind thine eyes
And rob thee of thy darts.

III

See where a Lady stands
With Quivers in her Eyes,
And swears that shee
Hath conquer'd thee,
And sold thee for a prize.

IV

If thou be Womans prize,
Alass, then what are wee
Who borrow light
From thy blind sight,
And know not what we see.

Inconstancy return'd.

[I]

Did I once say that thou wert fair,
And swear thy breath perfum'd the air?
Did I commit Idolatry,
And court thee as a deity?
Ah Cælia! sure then I was blind,
Or else it was when thou wert kind.

II

Did I once beg a wanton kiss,
And thought there was no higher bliss?
Did I all other objects flye
To live i'th sun-shine of thine eye?
'Tis true I did, but Cælia then
Return'd as much to me agen.

III

Now Cælia's chang'd and so am I,
Love feeds upon variety;
My constant thoughts could never find
The pleasures of a Fickle mind,
Till thy example did invite
My appetite to new delight.

His Rivals danger.

[I]

Take heed bold Lover, do not look upon my Chloris Eyes,
for every dart is tipp'd with death that from her glances flyes.

II

Nor do not think to save thy self
From danger, or from harmes,
By any virtue in her smiles,
Or other secret charmes.

III

Love hath commanded her to cure
No other heart but mine,
There is no hope that Shee can be
So merciful to thine.

IV

For though her Eyes be Murderers,
She hath reserv'd for me,
A Balsam in her Coral lips
That gives Eternitie.

To his Platonick Mistris.

[I]

Beauty once blasted with the frost
Of Age or Sickness, is quite lost;
He who loves that, and on it can,
Dote till he be no longer Man,
Hath neither Intellect or Eyes
To judge where womans beauty lies:
No, let him court your better part,
Your virtues and your loyal heart.

II

If nought but beauty in you be,
Your Picture seems as fair to me;
He that admires your red and white,
Is Traytor to his own delight;
And with those shadows growes so blind
He never can your sweetnesse find.
Then let me court your better part,
Your vertues, and your loyall heart.

III

Yet do I never hope to see
Goodnesse lodg'd in deformitie;
Though devils oft take shapes divine,
Angels take none but such as thine;
This made me make my choice of thee
The emblem of divinitie;
That I might court your better part,
Your vertues, and your loyal heart.

Amintors welladay.

[I]

Chloris now thou art fled away,
Amintor's sheep are gon astray;
And all the joy he took to see,
His pretty Lambs run after thee,
Is gon is gon, and he alone,
Sings nothing now but welladay, welladay.

II

His Oaten pipe that in thy praise
Was wont to play such roundelays,
Is thrown away, and not a swain
Dares pipe, or sing, within his plain;
'Tis death for any now to say
One word to him but welladay.

II

The Maypole where thy little feet
So roundly did in measures meet,
Is broken down, and no content
Comes near Amintor since you went.
All that I ever heard him say
Was Chloris, Chloris, welladay.

IV

Upon those Banks you us'd to tread
He ever since hath laid his head,
And whisper'd there such pining woe,
As not a blade of grass will grow;
O Chloris! Chloris! come away,
And hear Amintor's welladay.

Affection for a Lady he never saw.

[I]

O now I find 'tis nought but Fate
That makes us either love or hate;
Yet I have heard the wiser tell,
Love onely doth with Beauty dwell;
And that the Eye the thief must play,
To steal each others heart away.
But 'tis not so I find with me,
For I love one I ne're did see.

II

There's a Divinity in Love,
That doth inspire us from above;
Which needs no tutoring from the eyes,
To make our hearts to Sympathize.
Such Noble and Platonick fires,
Will know no Object for desires:
But Love's the good that dwels with thee,
Although thy self they ne're did see.

III

Thy soul, not this, or t'other part,
Hath sent her Cupids to my heart;
And there like little Angels tell,
What hidden vertues in thee dwell,
Prompting my reason to suppose
Thy Shape's Angelicall like those;
Which I shall pray I ne're may see,
Lest I should more distracted be.

Freedome from Charmes.

[I]

Go, fair Inchantress! charm no more,
But give thy fascinations o're;
Since I have found a pow'rful Spel,
That doth thy cunning Art excel;
For when I think of thy disdain,
I'm free from witchcraft, or from pain.

II

When I was young and unbetray'd,
All then was Oracle you said;
So innocent I was of guile,
I thought love dwelt in every smile:
But now that cloud of youth is spent,
I find you'r all but complement.

III

I'le love no more, I'le learn to hate,
I'le study to equivocate,
And all my pleasures now shall be
To cozen those would cozen me;
For Loves best musick runs (I find)
On fickle changes of the mind.

Future Hope.

[I]

When shal I see my Captive heart
That lies in Chloris brest?
Or, when will Love again restore
Rhose joys I once possest?
Yet, 'tis a blessing I confess,
When Fate is thus severe,
Not to be barr'd of future hopes
To mitigate our fear.

II

The Tyrant Love would be depos'd,
And from this Empire thrown,
Were not his subjects fool'd with hope
That mercy would be shown.
Then Captive heart contented lye,
And banish all despaire,
Since there is hope that she may be
As kind as she is faire.

On a Black Ribbon.

[I]

Black as thy lovely Eyes and Hair,
This Ribbon for thy sake I wear,
To tye rebellious passions in,
Lest they on other objects sin;
Thus I Love's pris'ner am, and may
Expect my sentence ev'ry day;
My heart fore-tells me now that I
Am doom'd a slave to constancy.

II

How easie 'tis for to confine
An am'rous and a willing minde!
Soft Silk from your faire hands I feel
Bindes faster far than chains of Steel:
O let me still thy Bond-man be!
I'le never sue for libertie;
Let others boast that freedome have
'Tis my content to be thy slave.

A Resolution to love no more.

[I]

Let me alone, I'le love no more,
Nor will I that fond God adore;
All your perfections cannot move
One am'rous thought in me to love:
Yet I'me not old, nor yet dis-eas'd,
But onely with your Sex displeas'd;
Not that I e're was scorn'd by any,
But because you can love too many.
What wonder is there then in thee,
When thou hast lost thy constancie?

II

Alas, where lies that great delight
Men fancy in your red and white?
The common Lilly and the Rose
Are far more beautifull then those;
And many objects in the Skies
Outshine the lustre of your Eyes,
Though Poets please sometimes to say
Your Eyes are brighter than the Day.

Cupids Artillery.

[I]

Alas poor Cupid! Art thou blind?
Canst not thy Bow and Arrows find?
Thy Mother sure the Wanton playes,
And layes 'em up for Holydayes.
Then take but Arrows from her Eyes,
Nnd all you shoot at surely dyes.

II

Then Cupid mark how kind I'le be,
Because thou once wert so to me;
I'le arm thee with such powerful darts,
Shall make thee once more god of hearts.

III

My Chloris Armes shall be thy bow,
Which none but Love can bend you know;
Her precious Haires shall make the String,
Which of themselves wound every thing.

A Lady to a young Courtier.

[I]

Love thee! Good Sooth, Not I;
I've somewhat else to doe:
Alas! you must go learn to talk,
Before you learn to wooe:
Nay fie stand off, go too go too.

II

Because you'r in the fashion,
And newly come to Court,
D'ye think your Clothes are Orators
T'invite us to the Sport?
Ha ha, who will not jeer thee for't!

III

Ne'r look so sweetly Youth,
Nor fiddle with your Band,
We know you trimme your borrow'd Curles
To shew your pretty Hand;
But 'tis too young for to command.

IV

Go practise how to jeer,
And think each word a Jest,
That's the Court wit: Alas! you'r out
To think when finely drest,
You please me or the Ladies best.

V

And why so confident!
Because that lately we
Have brought another losty word
Unto our pedegree?
Your inside seems the worse to me.

VI

Mark how Sir Whacham fools;
I marry there's a Wit
Who cares not what he sayes or swears
So Ladies laugh at it;
Who can deny such blades a it?

Falshood discovered.

[I]

Fond woman, thou mistak'st thy mark;
Thy reason guides thee in the dark:
And though thy Cupids cannot see,
Mine have too many eyes for thee.
Alas, I read in ev'ry smile,
The Arts you use when you beguile.

II

What though you sweat to me, you love
With passions equal to the Dove;
And that your flames are blown no higher
Than to the Sphere of chaste desire?
Forgive me if I needs must say
This is the common womans way.

III

Your Eyes like Suns I know can be
As warm to any as to me,
And yet you blush not oft to say
You love but the Platonick way;
Love how you will, and when you please,
My heart shall sleep and take it's ease.

Liberty.

[I]

Though thou hast Wit and Beauty too,
Enough to make a Hermit wooe,
And though, you swear your heart is mine,
Yet all this will not make me thine;
My Cupids now are full of eyes,
And that's the reason they'r so wise.
Then Ladies wonder not at me,
If I desire my libertie.

II

'Tis time to call my passions in,
That have so long in darkness bin;
For now I see you only play
To win a heart and so away;
She that can number all her store
Of servants, now is very poor:
Then Ladies wonder not, &c.

III

Spring-garden is the Market-place
Where men are brought up for a face;
Some with their hands, some with their eyes,
Catch any new thing for a prize;
That Lady now grows poor and pines,
Who wants her slaves to dig her mines.
Then Ladies wonder not, &c.

A Pot of Flowers presented to Chloris.

[I]

See Chloris, see, how Nature brings
All what she owes to thee that springs;
These Roses from your Cheeks did grow,
Those Lillies from your Bosomes snow;
This various Tulip from your Eyes,
From whence it bears so rich a prize.

II

Those purple streams in Azure set,
Gave being to this Violet;
These sprigs of Bayes we ne'r did see
Till you taught Shepherds Poetrie:
And all these flowers of purest red
Sprung up where once your finger bled.

III

These Pansyes which so low do creep,
Grew up one Night where you did sleep;
So did these Poppyes, and from thence
They have their sleepy influence;
And all their leaves became thus green
In hope by you they should be seen.

IV

And here I bring them in an Urn
Of water, which themselves did mourn,
Fearing to wyther and grow drye
By too much Sun-shine of your Eye;
For if your Beams the World inflame,
Poor things, they needs must feel the same.

A doubt resolv'd.

[I]

Fain would I love, but that I fear,
I quickly should the willow wear;
Fain would I marry, but men say,
When Love is ry'd, he will away:
Then tell me Love, what shall I doe,
To cure these Fears when e're I wooe?

II

The Fair one she's a mark to all;
The Brown one each doth Lovely call;
The Black's a pearl in Fair mens Eyes;
The rest will stoop to any prize.
Then tell me love, &c.

Reply.

Young Lover, know it is not I
That wound with Fear or ealousie;
Nor do men ever feel those smarts
Until they have confin'd their hearts:
Then if you'l cure your Fears, you shall
Love neither Fair, Black, Brown, but all.

To the first object of Content.

[I]

Why up so early in the world,
And fondly led about
From place to place to seek Content
And could not find thee out?
Alas! 'tis plain I was abus'd,
I did mistake the light
Which quickneth ev'ry Lovers eye,
And gives a perfect sight.

II

Thou art the only Star that can
Direct us where to find
The way which I so long have sought
To ease a troubled mind;
Each limb of thine's so full of grace
They ravish ev'ry Eye,
And all the Musick that we know
Is from their Harmony.

III

'Tis You alone that do create
The Beauties of the Spring,
Those Shadows which from You reflect
Adorneth ev'ry thing;
Philosophers may govern Fools,
But shall not tutor mee,
For now I find that I was blind
Until I found out thee.

A Recantation.

[I]

Forgive me Love, what have I done!
Abus'd the Stars, Eclips'd the Sun;
And rashly call'd a Wandring light
The Star whence true love borrows light:
Yet mark the jest, She thinks that I
Speak truth, and dote; Love knows I lie.

II

Will you not give men leave to sport,
Alas, my heart commands a fort,
Whence all the artillery of your Eyes
Can make no breach, much lesse a prize:
How subtle Ladies now are grown!
Yet caught in Engines of their own.

III

My heart's no Coward, you shall see,
To yield, because you shot at mee;
A man o're come so quickly may
Be taken pris'ner every day:
Then Lady boast not of your prize,
My heart still in his castle lyes.

A description of Chloris.

[I]

Have you e're seen the morning Sun
From fair Aurora's bosome run?
Or have you seen on Flora's Bed,
The Essences of White and Red?
Then you may boast, for you have seen
My Fairer Chloris, Beauties Queen.

II

Have you e're pleas'd your skilful eares
With the sweet Musick of the Spheres?
Have you e're heard the Syrens sing,
Or Orpheus play to Hels black King?
If so, be happy and rejoyce,
For thou hast heard my Chloris voyce.

III

Have you e're smelt what Chymick skill
From Rose or Amber doth distill?
Have you been near that sacrifice
The Phœnix makes before she dies?
Then you can tell (I do presume)
My Chloris is the worlds perfume.

IV

Have you e're tasted what the Bee
Steals from each fragrant Flower or Tree?
Or did you ever taste that meat
Which Poets say the Gods did eat?
O then I will no longer doubt
But you have found my Chloris out.

Chloris a constant comfort.

[I]

Stay, stay ye greedy Merchants stay,
Send not your ships so fast away,
To trade for Jems or precious Ore,
For now they'l be esteem'd no more;
Sayl to the Indies of my Chloris Eyes,
Cheeks, Hair, and Lips, there perfect treasure lies.

II

Come here Loves Hereticks that can
Beleive ther's no true joy for man,
See what refined pleasure flyes
From ev'ry motion of her eyes;
Gaze on my Chloris freely, then go tell
To all the world where true Content doth dwell.

III

Forgive me Heavens if I adore
Your Sun, or Moon, or Stars uo more;
Those often are eclips'd, and can
As soon destroy as cherish man:
But Chloris like a constant comfort shines,
Not only to our Bodies but our Mindes.

Inconstancy.

[I]

O tell me Love! O tell me Fate!
Or tell some other pow'r;
Who did Inconstancy create,
That changeth ev'ry houre?
Why should one creature seem this day
The object of Content,
To Morrow lose that new-born joy,
And prove a punishment?

II

Fair Shapes and guilded Honours raise
Rebellion in our hearts;
Then blame not Cupid if he shoot
Such sev'rall sorts of darts:
Such sullen miseries as these
Will wait on fickle Love;
Be thou a Saint it is decreed
She must inconstant prove.

Amintor's Dream.

[I]

As sad Amintor in a Medow lay
Slumbring upon a bed of new-made Hay,
A Dream, a fatal Dream unlock'd his eyes,
Whereat he wakes, and thus Amintor cryes;
Chloris, where art thou Chloris? Oh! she's fled,
And left Amintor to a loathed Bed.

II

Heark how the Winds conspire with storm and rain
To stop her course, and beat her back again:
Heark how the heavens chide her in her way
For robbing poor Amintor of his joy:
And yet she comes nor. Chloris, O! she's fled,
And left Amintor to a loathed bed.

III

Come Chloris come, see where Amintor lies,
Just as you left him, but with sadder Eyes;
Bring back that heart which thou hast stoln from me
That Lovers may record thy Constancie:
O no she will not. Chloris, O she's fled!
And left Amintor, &c.

IV

O lend me (Love) thy wings that I may flye
Into her bosome, take my leave, and dye:
What comfort have I now ith' world since she
That was my world of joy is gone from me,
My Love, my Chloris: Chloris, O she's fled
And left Amintor to, &c.

V

Awake Amintor from this dream, for she
Hath too much goodnesse to be false to thee:
Think on her Oathes, her Vows, her Sighes, her Tears,
And those will quickly satisfie thy fears.
No no, Amintor, Chloris is not fled,
But will return into thy longing Bed.

Chloris dead, lamented by Amintor.

[I]

Mourn, mourn with me, all true Enamour'd hearts,
And Shepherds throw your pipes away:
Cupid go burn thy Arrows and thy Darts,
Let Night for ever Mother Day:
For Chloris out bright Sun is dead,
And with her all our joys are fled.

II

Love is with grief congeal'd into a Stone,
And o're my Chloris grave she lies,
Where round about the Graces sit and moan,
Neglecting other Deities:
The valleys where her flocks she fed
Are drown'd with tears since she is fled.

III

Then follow me, where comfort never shin'd;
Down, down into some darker Cell;
There see Amintor weep, till he grow blind
And comfortless for ever dwell:
The Gods I fear will soon repent
This universall punishment.

Here Endeth the Ayres for One Voyce to the Theorboe-Lute or Bass-Viol.