Astraea's Teares An Elegie Vpon the death of that Reverend, Learned and Honest Judge, Sir Richard Hutton Knight; Lately one of his Majesties Iustices in his Highnesse Court of Common Plees at Westminster [by Richard Brathwait] |
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PANARETEES TRIVMPH:
OR, HYMENS heavenly Hymne.
Pæana cantat Hymen; taceat lachrymabile Carmen.
Remove that funerall-pile; now six whole yeares
Have beene the Nursing mothers of my teares.
These rivell'd furrowes of mine aged cheeke
Have writ griefes characters exceeding deepe.
But what's perpetuall cannot mix with earth,
“Joyes must partake with teares, and teares with mirth.
Those carelesse foldings of mine armes must cease
While ayres resounded cares, and cares ay-mees;
While tones were threnes, ech motion of my tongue
The dying accent of a Swan-like song.
These must be closed in her sacred shrine
Whose living beautie, while enstyled mine,
Made me too earthly-blest;—Another rite
Must banish these presentments from my sight;
Yet in their exile shall I still retaine
That Anniversall mem'ry of her Name,
As those declining-earth-resolving flowers
Where wee'r to celebrate these Rites of ours
Shall to my thoughts a Funerall Lecture read,
And in a fresh Brides beauty eye her dead
With such an active sorrow, as her Tombe
Were th' marriage-bed whereto I sought to come.
Yet must this time with Funerall teares dispence,
And with a feagned Solace ravish Sense,
As if it went to entertaine a Guest
Which h'as bene long estranged from my brest.
Have beene the Nursing mothers of my teares.
These rivell'd furrowes of mine aged cheeke
Have writ griefes characters exceeding deepe.
But what's perpetuall cannot mix with earth,
“Joyes must partake with teares, and teares with mirth.
While ayres resounded cares, and cares ay-mees;
While tones were threnes, ech motion of my tongue
The dying accent of a Swan-like song.
These must be closed in her sacred shrine
Whose living beautie, while enstyled mine,
Made me too earthly-blest;—Another rite
Must banish these presentments from my sight;
Yet in their exile shall I still retaine
That Anniversall mem'ry of her Name,
As those declining-earth-resolving flowers
Where wee'r to celebrate these Rites of ours
Shall to my thoughts a Funerall Lecture read,
And in a fresh Brides beauty eye her dead
Were th' marriage-bed whereto I sought to come.
Yet must this time with Funerall teares dispence,
And with a feagned Solace ravish Sense,
As if it went to entertaine a Guest
Which h'as bene long estranged from my brest.
So have I seene the Sunne his beauty shroud,
And suddenly breake from a sable cloud
With an imperiall splendor, but that beame
Became the true forerunner of a Streame.
And suddenly breake from a sable cloud
With an imperiall splendor, but that beame
Became the true forerunner of a Streame.
So have I seene Plants in a forward Spring
With bloomes and blossomes lively flourishing,
Yet long before th' imbroder'd Spring were done
Those Plants were seer'd, and all their blossoms gone.
With bloomes and blossomes lively flourishing,
Yet long before th' imbroder'd Spring were done
Those Plants were seer'd, and all their blossoms gone.
So have I seene a glorious Starre appeare,
As if sole Empresse of that Hemispheare,
Darting her twinkling lights, and marching round
Contract her Orbe, and fall upon the ground.
As if sole Empresse of that Hemispheare,
Darting her twinkling lights, and marching round
Contract her Orbe, and fall upon the ground.
So have I seene a manly spirit fight
With death so long as Oyle afforded light,
Nay smile upon his visitants, and say,
“I hope e're long, my friends, to have the day;
Yet see vaine hopes! before next enter-breath
He proves these were but lightnings 'fore his death.
With death so long as Oyle afforded light,
Nay smile upon his visitants, and say,
“I hope e're long, my friends, to have the day;
Yet see vaine hopes! before next enter-breath
He proves these were but lightnings 'fore his death.
So I; so my moist eye! which though it seeme
To take the world with a pleasing beame,
And her dis-sorting passions to exile
With the reflexion of a forced smile,
I'm same I was, and must be ever so,
“Woe may put off her weed, no weed her woe.
To take the world with a pleasing beame,
And her dis-sorting passions to exile
With the reflexion of a forced smile,
“Woe may put off her weed, no weed her woe.
And yet me thinks 'twere ominous to shed
A Funerall teare before a Nuptiall bed;
This might perplex a Bride, and make her wish
Shee'd never tasted of that painted blisse
So much by Maids affected, but had still
Bene Mistresse of her selfe and her owne will.
Those Vialls then my teare-swolne conduits fill'd
Shall to a pure Elixar be distill'd,
Which well preserv'd may treasur'd fountaines keepe
For those who make a face but cannot weepe.
A Funerall teare before a Nuptiall bed;
This might perplex a Bride, and make her wish
Shee'd never tasted of that painted blisse
So much by Maids affected, but had still
Bene Mistresse of her selfe and her owne will.
Those Vialls then my teare-swolne conduits fill'd
Shall to a pure Elixar be distill'd,
Which well preserv'd may treasur'd fountaines keepe
For those who make a face but cannot weepe.
First those brave spritely Blades, who puff'd with pride
Would in their fathers sadles gladly ride;
Hope of concealed treasures, rich demaines
Have soakt the thirsty channels of their braines
They cannot weepe to die for't: yet they'r knowne
By ribband, Cypers, mourning-hood and gowne:
Which Ornaments of griefe, hows'ere these beare them,
Seem better Mourners farre then those that wear them.
Nor is there hope that these will e're have sense
To grieve, till what their Fathers providence
Which many restlesse nights had scrap't together
Their riot h'as sent packing God knowes whither.
Then, ne're till then, they finde what 'twas to have
A pleasing eye upon a Fathers grave.
To these my late-distreaming eyes shall lend
A legacy of teares, and so befriend
These state-presenting Mourners, none shall gather
But that they sorrow truly for their father
Without enforced passion; though short time
Shall prove those teares were none of theirs but mine.
Would in their fathers sadles gladly ride;
Have soakt the thirsty channels of their braines
They cannot weepe to die for't: yet they'r knowne
By ribband, Cypers, mourning-hood and gowne:
Which Ornaments of griefe, hows'ere these beare them,
Seem better Mourners farre then those that wear them.
Nor is there hope that these will e're have sense
To grieve, till what their Fathers providence
Which many restlesse nights had scrap't together
Their riot h'as sent packing God knowes whither.
Then, ne're till then, they finde what 'twas to have
A pleasing eye upon a Fathers grave.
To these my late-distreaming eyes shall lend
A legacy of teares, and so befriend
But that they sorrow truly for their father
Without enforced passion; though short time
Shall prove those teares were none of theirs but mine.
There be some widdowes too, who stand in need
Of our Conserves of teares to suit their weed,
That seeming weed of Sorrow: these belye
Their sable habits with a teare-forc'd eye:
And like those brave Ægyptian modest Dames
Whose chaste-bequeathed brests such love inflames,
As when their breathlesse husbands buried be
They strive which may have the precedencie
To be interred with them: So doe these
With unamated courage strongly prease
Towards their Husbands graves: where they appeare
All Niobees; clasping the fatall Beare
With an affected zeale; and to ingrave
More Sceanes of sorrow leape into his Grave
As if they'd be enshrin'd (though nought lesse ment)
In the cold bosome of that Monument.
Yet h'as not one poor worme undone a stitch
Of his fresh-funerall Shroud; no, not that pitch
Which seer'd his Coffin flaw'd; no, nor one flower
Which beautifide his Hearse decay'd in power;
No, nor that late provision which should
Refresh his formall Mourners, scarcely cold
Till her decreasing griefes suggest unto her
An other hopefull, youthfull, active wooer
To raise her a new progeny; which done
She holds joyes past compar'd with joyes to come
Fall short in estimate: She wonders much
How any womans passion should be such
As to imbrace an Husband that is dead,
When th' world's so well supplide, it can bestead
Her Choice of such a choice selected one
'Twere madnesse to lament for him that's gone.
Of our Conserves of teares to suit their weed,
That seeming weed of Sorrow: these belye
Their sable habits with a teare-forc'd eye:
And like those brave Ægyptian modest Dames
Whose chaste-bequeathed brests such love inflames,
As when their breathlesse husbands buried be
They strive which may have the precedencie
To be interred with them: So doe these
With unamated courage strongly prease
All Niobees; clasping the fatall Beare
With an affected zeale; and to ingrave
More Sceanes of sorrow leape into his Grave
As if they'd be enshrin'd (though nought lesse ment)
In the cold bosome of that Monument.
Yet h'as not one poor worme undone a stitch
Of his fresh-funerall Shroud; no, not that pitch
Which seer'd his Coffin flaw'd; no, nor one flower
Which beautifide his Hearse decay'd in power;
No, nor that late provision which should
Refresh his formall Mourners, scarcely cold
Till her decreasing griefes suggest unto her
An other hopefull, youthfull, active wooer
She holds joyes past compar'd with joyes to come
Fall short in estimate: She wonders much
How any womans passion should be such
As to imbrace an Husband that is dead,
When th' world's so well supplide, it can bestead
Her Choice of such a choice selected one
'Twere madnesse to lament for him that's gone.
To these my teares I zealously bequeath,
To shed some seeming streamlings at the death
Of their expired Husbands; that their sorrow
May shew it selfe essentiall, though it borrow
Juice from my eyes, which when Time shall restraine
I looke my teares shall be restor'd againe.
To shed some seeming streamlings at the death
Of their expired Husbands; that their sorrow
May shew it selfe essentiall, though it borrow
Juice from my eyes, which when Time shall restraine
I looke my teares shall be restor'd againe.
The profuse Gallant too, who lately sped
Of a full fortunes with a loathed bed
Must share in my teare-tribute to weepe o're her,
And wish (vaine wish) that he had dyde before her.
Meane time, on choicer stuffe his love he sets,
Stepping into a bed of Violets
In stead of's icy Consort, who is gone
To take possession of her longest home.
Yet must he feagne a teare, and force a sigh,
And wish his dissolution to be nigh
To gull his weake Spectators with a seeming
Of being what was least of all his meaning.
To fit his sorrow then with fresh supply,
He may derive from my distilling eye
A numorous store; yet would I have him come
When he h'as done (as hee'l have quickly done)
To render me, and that without delay,
What I have lent, and he is bound to pay.
Nor would I have him make the world believe
While he so passionately seemes to grieve,
That these distreaming rivolets arise
From any other fountaine then mine eyes.
Of a full fortunes with a loathed bed
Must share in my teare-tribute to weepe o're her,
And wish (vaine wish) that he had dyde before her.
Meane time, on choicer stuffe his love he sets,
Stepping into a bed of Violets
In stead of's icy Consort, who is gone
To take possession of her longest home.
Yet must he feagne a teare, and force a sigh,
And wish his dissolution to be nigh
To gull his weake Spectators with a seeming
Of being what was least of all his meaning.
To fit his sorrow then with fresh supply,
He may derive from my distilling eye
When he h'as done (as hee'l have quickly done)
To render me, and that without delay,
What I have lent, and he is bound to pay.
Nor would I have him make the world believe
While he so passionately seemes to grieve,
That these distreaming rivolets arise
From any other fountaine then mine eyes.
Now some will aske why my decaying time
Should to such solemne nuptiall rites incline?
Whereto I answer, no licentious fire
Inflam'd my sprinkling Organs with desire,
No glowing heat of fancy did I feele,
Unto my --- I freely may appeale.
These were unfitting motives to weake Sense,
Though Age must render age benevolence
When time, place, spirit may such acts admit
With equall willing minds to second it.
No, my affection never tooke delight
Ith' light embraces of a marriage night,
Nor to make sacred rites such tempting lures
To sate th' desire without more inward cures.
For had these bene mine ends, my constant ayme
Had long since fixt upon more youthfull game.
Nor did I want in number to supply
The curious choice of loves-attractive eye,
Which may appeare by those selecter lines
My widdow Muse compos'd in former times.
Should to such solemne nuptiall rites incline?
Whereto I answer, no licentious fire
Inflam'd my sprinkling Organs with desire,
No glowing heat of fancy did I feele,
Unto my --- I freely may appeale.
Though Age must render age benevolence
When time, place, spirit may such acts admit
With equall willing minds to second it.
No, my affection never tooke delight
Ith' light embraces of a marriage night,
Nor to make sacred rites such tempting lures
To sate th' desire without more inward cures.
For had these bene mine ends, my constant ayme
Had long since fixt upon more youthfull game.
Nor did I want in number to supply
The curious choice of loves-attractive eye,
Which may appeare by those selecter lines
My widdow Muse compos'd in former times.
“Four wenches be there who my love would win,
“And stick as close as Ticks unto my skin;
“The first a widdow worth six thousand pound,
“But my Hopes say, more thousands may be found;
“The next as nimble as the mountaine Ree,
“But all her fortunes are not worth a stroe;
“The third a wanton witty worldly Cricket,
“But too too many Cubbs have sprung her wicket;
“The fourth of lovely hue and lively quicknesse,
“For th' Trickle-bed h'as cured her green-sicknesse,
“A Damsell fresh as is the flower in May,
“But her pure zeale impurer acts display:
“Advise me which to chuse, and I'le have at her,
“One must I have, more is an hanging matter.
“And stick as close as Ticks unto my skin;
“The first a widdow worth six thousand pound,
“But my Hopes say, more thousands may be found;
“The next as nimble as the mountaine Ree,
“But all her fortunes are not worth a stroe;
“The third a wanton witty worldly Cricket,
“But too too many Cubbs have sprung her wicket;
“The fourth of lovely hue and lively quicknesse,
“For th' Trickle-bed h'as cured her green-sicknesse,
“A Damsell fresh as is the flower in May,
“But her pure zeale impurer acts display:
“Advise me which to chuse, and I'le have at her,
“One must I have, more is an hanging matter.
And these were true, as I may hope for life,
Yet could no beauty stamp the style of wife
In my affection: for I found no Spouse
Could cheere my fancy like mine inner house:
Which to adorne with vessels of choice grace,
I made my Grove my sole-retiring place.
Where in a sacred melancholy I
Red in each Creature such variety
As I perceiv'd the very lowest plant
Might read a lecture to the ignorant
To make him rightly learn'd: No Bird ith' Aire
But sung her morning thankfull chantelere.
Which made me blush to hear such hymns from these,
And I, ungratefull I, to hold my peace.
This 'twas that made me seriously to marke
The various warblings of the early Larke,
With what a winged speed she made resort
To joyne in consort with the heav'nly Court.
Yet could no beauty stamp the style of wife
In my affection: for I found no Spouse
Could cheere my fancy like mine inner house:
Which to adorne with vessels of choice grace,
I made my Grove my sole-retiring place.
Where in a sacred melancholy I
Red in each Creature such variety
As I perceiv'd the very lowest plant
Might read a lecture to the ignorant
To make him rightly learn'd: No Bird ith' Aire
But sung her morning thankfull chantelere.
Which made me blush to hear such hymns from these,
And I, ungratefull I, to hold my peace.
The various warblings of the early Larke,
With what a winged speed she made resort
To joyne in consort with the heav'nly Court.
The Silke-worme I observ'd too, how she sought
Forth of those threeds she from her bowels wrought
To deck delicious man; how wondrously
Her silk-web spun, she turn'd a Butterfly.
Againe, I turn'd me to a desert cave
Matted with mosse like to an antient Grave,
Wherein I found a subject of that sense
As it exceeded humane providence;
A brisled Hedge-hogge, who retaines a forme
Of storing in a calme against a storme.
These were the Books I red: for teares had so
Surpriz'd my dim eyes with an overflow,
As to bestow my sight, I held it better
Upon a living then a dying letter.
Forth of those threeds she from her bowels wrought
To deck delicious man; how wondrously
Her silk-web spun, she turn'd a Butterfly.
Againe, I turn'd me to a desert cave
Matted with mosse like to an antient Grave,
Wherein I found a subject of that sense
As it exceeded humane providence;
A brisled Hedge-hogge, who retaines a forme
Of storing in a calme against a storme.
Surpriz'd my dim eyes with an overflow,
As to bestow my sight, I held it better
Upon a living then a dying letter.
Now you will wonder how I should depart
From this condition which had seaz'd my hart,
And take me to the world which I'd forgone
Since the deprivall of my dearest One.
'Tis true, you well may wonder, yet I finde
Some maine inducements to divert the minde
From such amazement; heare me, I'l be briefe,
And amongst many reasons call the chiefe.
I had some little Children for whose care
A native love injoyn'd me to prepare;
Tender they were in yares as in my love,
But, 'las, hows'ere their Non-age might approve
My constant zeale, so weak was my intent,
I could not perfect what my purpose ment.
A Father though he lov's posterity
Cannot play Mother in a family,
Nor dandle a young infant, nor bestow
Such easie kisses as a Nurse can doe.
No; nor ith' Needle, nor in any Art
Expresse himselfe so formally expert
As a remisser temper can apply,
Besides some offices necessity
Injoyne them to performe: Nor is this all,
No Solemnizer of a Funerall
But having cloz'd the period of his sorrow,
His late-expired teares may solace borrow
Of some calme interbreaths, and learne to smile,
Though it be farre from th' heart, and so beguile
A pensive houre:—Oh but a widdows state
Preserv'd from blemish do'es participate
A gracious freedom! and you know we read
“Honour a widdow that is so indeed.
Yet Eve when she was made of Adams bone,
God held't not meet that man should be alone,
And therefore rais'd him Helpe, that joyn'd together
One heart might tender mutuall joy to either.
In this my griefe-surprized heart was needing,
To cheere my selfe and for my childrens breeding:
Whose choice improvement was my highest ayme
Next th' honour of his Name from whom I came.
From this condition which had seaz'd my hart,
And take me to the world which I'd forgone
Since the deprivall of my dearest One.
'Tis true, you well may wonder, yet I finde
Some maine inducements to divert the minde
From such amazement; heare me, I'l be briefe,
And amongst many reasons call the chiefe.
I had some little Children for whose care
A native love injoyn'd me to prepare;
But, 'las, hows'ere their Non-age might approve
My constant zeale, so weak was my intent,
I could not perfect what my purpose ment.
A Father though he lov's posterity
Cannot play Mother in a family,
Nor dandle a young infant, nor bestow
Such easie kisses as a Nurse can doe.
No; nor ith' Needle, nor in any Art
Expresse himselfe so formally expert
As a remisser temper can apply,
Besides some offices necessity
Injoyne them to performe: Nor is this all,
No Solemnizer of a Funerall
His late-expired teares may solace borrow
Of some calme interbreaths, and learne to smile,
Though it be farre from th' heart, and so beguile
A pensive houre:—Oh but a widdows state
Preserv'd from blemish do'es participate
A gracious freedom! and you know we read
“Honour a widdow that is so indeed.
Yet Eve when she was made of Adams bone,
God held't not meet that man should be alone,
And therefore rais'd him Helpe, that joyn'd together
One heart might tender mutuall joy to either.
In this my griefe-surprized heart was needing,
To cheere my selfe and for my childrens breeding:
Next th' honour of his Name from whom I came.
Breeding, will some object, who can expect
From a Step-dame whose fancie's disrespect,
Best favours frownes, content meere discontent,
And when most mov'd, most in her Element?
'Tis true there are some such, whose onely song
Is canting fury with a glibbry tongue,
Bearding their easie husbands, and appeare
Rampants till they the good mans bretches weare:
Which purchase got, with an imperious brow
They glory in the title of a shrow,
And lest their Husbands should their Lectures misse,
From a Step-dame whose fancie's disrespect,
Best favours frownes, content meere discontent,
And when most mov'd, most in her Element?
'Tis true there are some such, whose onely song
Is canting fury with a glibbry tongue,
Bearding their easie husbands, and appeare
Rampants till they the good mans bretches weare:
Which purchase got, with an imperious brow
They glory in the title of a shrow,
And lest their Husbands should their Lectures misse,
“No messe serv'd up without a Chafindish.
And these indeed we Step-dames well may call,
But shee's none such that I have matcht withall.
For those who are her husbands children knowne,
She values them more then they were her owne.
Nor is't a curious dresse or luscious fare
That work effects upon her matron care;
What we account to be the precioust gem
That can adorne a civile Citizen
Makes her complete; it is a modest eye,
That wooes with no straid lookes the passer by;
Her Senses are all inward, which divine
She h'as no thought, save heaven, she styles not mine.
She dis-esteemes hand-basket Citizins
Who make their wicker baskets shroud their sins.
Pure-elevated eyes who make a show
Of doing that they never ment to doe
Are Bug-beares to her zeale; which loves to feed
Th' oyle of devotion as it is in deed.
The Church gives her a Lesson; and her scorne
Is to be taught in any other forme.
For though, where those grand Covenanters be,
She took the place of her Nativitie,
Their odious projects she does so despise
As with her Needle shee'd pick out their eyes
For want of stronger Armour, to expresse
That loyall love which she did still professe
To Prince and Countrey: this 'twas made me bring
That Scottish posie to our Nuptiall ring:
But shee's none such that I have matcht withall.
For those who are her husbands children knowne,
She values them more then they were her owne.
Nor is't a curious dresse or luscious fare
That work effects upon her matron care;
What we account to be the precioust gem
That can adorne a civile Citizen
Makes her complete; it is a modest eye,
That wooes with no straid lookes the passer by;
Her Senses are all inward, which divine
She h'as no thought, save heaven, she styles not mine.
She dis-esteemes hand-basket Citizins
Who make their wicker baskets shroud their sins.
Of doing that they never ment to doe
Are Bug-beares to her zeale; which loves to feed
Th' oyle of devotion as it is in deed.
The Church gives her a Lesson; and her scorne
Is to be taught in any other forme.
For though, where those grand Covenanters be,
She took the place of her Nativitie,
Their odious projects she does so despise
As with her Needle shee'd pick out their eyes
For want of stronger Armour, to expresse
That loyall love which she did still professe
To Prince and Countrey: this 'twas made me bring
That Scottish posie to our Nuptiall ring:
“Thus Twede and Tyne our loyall loves combine,
“Which Twedish factions never shall untwine.
O what a virile Spirit have I seene
My Panthea show! what noble dis-esteeme
To her zeale-madded Natives, when she heard
How they were palisado'd, how prepar'd,
How desperately gag'd to such a vow
As split their faith, and wrought their ruine too!
“What will these ne're have done, thus would she say,
“Must Subjects soveraignize, and Kings obey?
“Must a blind Zeale meerly compos'd of smoake
“Delude a Kingdome with an holy cloake?
“Must those fall short of their allegeance
“Whom Princes grace and favour did advance?
“Must we with civile Armes uncivilely
“Shed blood, and styl't an Act of piety!
“Are all turn'd High-landers? must this debate
“Extend unto an universall State?
“H'as my deare Countrey flourished till now
“With her light zeale to work her overthrow?
“For love sake leave, leave these intestine warres,
“Succeeding times will sorrow for their scarres.
“They cannot chuse but such impressions make,
“As th' motion of them may the Fabrick shake.
“If good Plants grow among you, cheere them still,
“But thrive they cannot till you prune the ill.
“Those generous Graffs then labour so to nourish,
“That in despite of wild ones they may flourish.
“Let not th' ambition of a phrenticks head
“Suffer one drop of loyall blood be shed;
“It is too precious, if you rightly knew
“With what a sacred cement, holy glue
“You'r mutually combin'd: oh should you see
“Those first prints of your Princes infancie,
“You cannot chuse but tax your insolence
“To be his foe who tooke his birth from thence!
“Admire his Princely clemency, whose will
“Had a desire to spare where he might spill.
“Long h'as his white flagge freely bene displaid,
“O let not your submission be delaid,
“Lest you to ill convert apparent good,
“And make a white flagge turne a flagge of blood!
“What though the thanklesse Ioy should entwine
“The spreading spurges of the weeping Vine,
“And stick so close unto her seered stem
“Till she h'as suckt the juice that nourish'd them,
“Must she your Embleme be? oh doe not so,
“These Acts worke mainly for your overthrow.
“You'r Natives and his Subjects, which should draw
“From you a zealous love and loyall aw.
“Let it be neuer said that th' Commonweale
“Of Scotland perish'd by pretensive Zeale;
“It will be such a blemish, such a scorne,
“It may impeach the Babe that's yet unborne
“When he shall heare (though guiltlesse he of that)
“Himselfe unhappy call'd a Traitors brat.
“If for your selves then you will not prove true,
“Yet for those Branches may descend from you,
“Retaine your vow'd allegeance, and returne
“Before you see one peering Beacon burne.
“Which to the sad Spectator being once showne
“I feare me much will not be quench'd so soone:
“Lay downe your Armes in time then; 'tis too late
“When you heare Fury knocking at your gate;
“While Foes and Famine close you so about
“As Feare gets in, but nothing can get out.
“Trust me, your case presageth nought but losse,
“And that which you most hate, your fate, a Crosse;
“Disloyall aymes must have disgracefull ends,
“Nor can the hope of Favorites or Friends
“Divert that Fate: for what heavens hand h'as writ
“Is not in power of man to cancell it.
“Which Twedish factions never shall untwine.
O what a virile Spirit have I seene
My Panthea show! what noble dis-esteeme
To her zeale-madded Natives, when she heard
How they were palisado'd, how prepar'd,
How desperately gag'd to such a vow
As split their faith, and wrought their ruine too!
“What will these ne're have done, thus would she say,
“Must Subjects soveraignize, and Kings obey?
“Must a blind Zeale meerly compos'd of smoake
“Delude a Kingdome with an holy cloake?
“Must those fall short of their allegeance
“Whom Princes grace and favour did advance?
“Shed blood, and styl't an Act of piety!
“Are all turn'd High-landers? must this debate
“Extend unto an universall State?
“H'as my deare Countrey flourished till now
“With her light zeale to work her overthrow?
“For love sake leave, leave these intestine warres,
“Succeeding times will sorrow for their scarres.
“They cannot chuse but such impressions make,
“As th' motion of them may the Fabrick shake.
“If good Plants grow among you, cheere them still,
“But thrive they cannot till you prune the ill.
“Those generous Graffs then labour so to nourish,
“That in despite of wild ones they may flourish.
“Suffer one drop of loyall blood be shed;
“It is too precious, if you rightly knew
“With what a sacred cement, holy glue
“You'r mutually combin'd: oh should you see
“Those first prints of your Princes infancie,
“You cannot chuse but tax your insolence
“To be his foe who tooke his birth from thence!
“Admire his Princely clemency, whose will
“Had a desire to spare where he might spill.
“Long h'as his white flagge freely bene displaid,
“O let not your submission be delaid,
“Lest you to ill convert apparent good,
“And make a white flagge turne a flagge of blood!
“The spreading spurges of the weeping Vine,
“And stick so close unto her seered stem
“Till she h'as suckt the juice that nourish'd them,
“Must she your Embleme be? oh doe not so,
“These Acts worke mainly for your overthrow.
“You'r Natives and his Subjects, which should draw
“From you a zealous love and loyall aw.
“Let it be neuer said that th' Commonweale
“Of Scotland perish'd by pretensive Zeale;
“It will be such a blemish, such a scorne,
“It may impeach the Babe that's yet unborne
“When he shall heare (though guiltlesse he of that)
“Himselfe unhappy call'd a Traitors brat.
“Yet for those Branches may descend from you,
“Retaine your vow'd allegeance, and returne
“Before you see one peering Beacon burne.
“Which to the sad Spectator being once showne
“I feare me much will not be quench'd so soone:
“Lay downe your Armes in time then; 'tis too late
“When you heare Fury knocking at your gate;
“While Foes and Famine close you so about
“As Feare gets in, but nothing can get out.
“Trust me, your case presageth nought but losse,
“And that which you most hate, your fate, a Crosse;
“Disloyall aymes must have disgracefull ends,
“Nor can the hope of Favorites or Friends
“Is not in power of man to cancell it.
“Much have I seene, yet seldom seene I have
“Ambition goe gray-headed to her grave:
“That your gray haires may then with honour goe
“Unto that Earth we all are borne unto,
“Renounce that brain-sick oath you there have made;
“Ambition goe gray-headed to her grave:
“That your gray haires may then with honour goe
“Unto that Earth we all are borne unto,
“Renounce that brain-sick oath you there have made;
“That Oath's unjust by which your Faith's betraid.
“This your owne Native wisheth; crown her wish,
“Her vowes shall pay their tribute for your blisse.
“This your owne Native wisheth; crown her wish,
“Her vowes shall pay their tribute for your blisse.
Nor doth it lesse her disposition please
T'enjoy a private then a publick peace;
Her House-hold sounds conformity: no jarres
Breath civile factions or intestine warres
In her calme Family: where some obey,
Others command without imperious sway.
None glory in precedency, nor stand
In opposition of a just command.
T'enjoy a private then a publick peace;
Her House-hold sounds conformity: no jarres
Breath civile factions or intestine warres
Others command without imperious sway.
None glory in precedency, nor stand
In opposition of a just command.
Againe, if ought appeare irregular,
She shewes herselfe no rigid Censurer:
Her courteous Curtaine Lectures they are such
They leave impressions with so sweet a tutch
In apprehensive fancies, clozing so
They make men good whether they will or no.
She yeelds preeminence unto her Mate,
And in this sort seemes to expostulate.
She shewes herselfe no rigid Censurer:
Her courteous Curtaine Lectures they are such
They leave impressions with so sweet a tutch
In apprehensive fancies, clozing so
They make men good whether they will or no.
She yeelds preeminence unto her Mate,
And in this sort seemes to expostulate.
“Let't not offend you, Sir, if I impart
“The weake expressions of a loyall heart.
“The world shall see that I'le performe my vow,
“Where you are Caius I am Caia too.
“The weake expressions of a loyall heart.
“Where you are Caius I am Caia too.
“As we are then united, heare me speake,
“Whose aymes nought more then your improvement seeke:
“Fix on your ripe experience which came
“Not onely from th' Survey of Bookes but Man.
“Unseason'd houres should challenge no such share
“In one who weares Times Embleme in his haire.
“That English Proverb in disgrace was made,
“Whose aymes nought more then your improvement seeke:
“Fix on your ripe experience which came
“Not onely from th' Survey of Bookes but Man.
“Unseason'd houres should challenge no such share
“In one who weares Times Embleme in his haire.
“That English Proverb in disgrace was made,
“That a gray head should have the greenest blade.
“Your actions should be postures to the rest
“Who are but man-like monsters at the best,
“While they decline from what is reall good,
“And staine the tincture of a vertuous blood
“With ayry vapours, which no sooner see
“The glorious Sunne then they dispersed be.
“Reflect on these; let not an houre of time
“Want the dimension of a precious line.
“Our Warfare's passing short, our Conquest great,
“'Tis shame for reverend age to make retreat
“Or yeeld one foot of ground, or weakly crave
“A Parly when one foot is in the Grave.
“It sounds not well that a light-youthfull rage
“Should claime acquaintance on decrepit age.
“An Old-mans houres should princely patterns give
“To younger yeares, and teach them how to live.
“Yet, Sir, misconster not my words I pray,
“Your parts doe please us, though your haires be gray;
“No aged wrinkle see I in your brow
“Which with my soule I beare not reverence to;
“No houre so tedious as when you'r from home,
“No newes so cheerfull as to heare you'r come.
“Begot of fancy my embraces be,
“Which scorne to cloze with any one but thee.
“O let me then enjoy what weeke by weeke
“My six yeares widdowhood did solely seeke!
“Let not a Nights distemper e're divide
“My deare Musæus from his Panthea's side.
“But if he doe, all passion I'le exile,
“And tax his errour with a pleasing smile.
“Such shall my Lecture be, which if it move
“I live, if not, I cannot leave my love:
“For such effects h'as true affection wrought,
“T'enjoy thy selfe is all, all else is nought.
“Your actions should be postures to the rest
“Who are but man-like monsters at the best,
“While they decline from what is reall good,
“And staine the tincture of a vertuous blood
“The glorious Sunne then they dispersed be.
“Reflect on these; let not an houre of time
“Want the dimension of a precious line.
“Our Warfare's passing short, our Conquest great,
“'Tis shame for reverend age to make retreat
“Or yeeld one foot of ground, or weakly crave
“A Parly when one foot is in the Grave.
“It sounds not well that a light-youthfull rage
“Should claime acquaintance on decrepit age.
“An Old-mans houres should princely patterns give
“To younger yeares, and teach them how to live.
“Yet, Sir, misconster not my words I pray,
“Your parts doe please us, though your haires be gray;
“Which with my soule I beare not reverence to;
“No houre so tedious as when you'r from home,
“No newes so cheerfull as to heare you'r come.
“Begot of fancy my embraces be,
“Which scorne to cloze with any one but thee.
“O let me then enjoy what weeke by weeke
“My six yeares widdowhood did solely seeke!
“Let not a Nights distemper e're divide
“My deare Musæus from his Panthea's side.
“But if he doe, all passion I'le exile,
“And tax his errour with a pleasing smile.
“Such shall my Lecture be, which if it move
“I live, if not, I cannot leave my love:
“T'enjoy thy selfe is all, all else is nought.
Now tell me, are not these such sweet regreetes
They'd weane a profest Lecher from the sheets
Of an enchanting Syren? Could one teare
Droppe from a disposition that's so cleare
From all dissembled passion, and depart
Without a deepe impression in the heart?
Could vowels lose their life, and turne to ayre
That were pronounc'd by one so good and faire?
No, no; I hold no Eloquence so strong
As when it falls from a calme Womans tongue.
A Traveller may by experience finde
That Sunne-beames are more violent then the Winde.
These pierce the pores, and by their powerfull heat
Resolve his native moisture to a sweat.
Meane time, though Windes with boundlesse fury blow,
They doe not show their active motion so
As those reflecting beamlings: whence collect
“Calme ayres produce the soveraign'st effect.
They'd weane a profest Lecher from the sheets
Of an enchanting Syren? Could one teare
Droppe from a disposition that's so cleare
From all dissembled passion, and depart
Without a deepe impression in the heart?
Could vowels lose their life, and turne to ayre
That were pronounc'd by one so good and faire?
No, no; I hold no Eloquence so strong
As when it falls from a calme Womans tongue.
A Traveller may by experience finde
That Sunne-beames are more violent then the Winde.
Resolve his native moisture to a sweat.
Meane time, though Windes with boundlesse fury blow,
They doe not show their active motion so
As those reflecting beamlings: whence collect
“Calme ayres produce the soveraign'st effect.
Nor doe I speake this, any one should tell her,
Nor doe I praise her with a minde to sell her.
For there's no earthly treasure that I see
Can counterveile so rich a price as she:
But to praise goodnesse in a vertuous Mate
May others move in time to imitate
Whats'ere they gracefull in another read,
And in those steps religiously to tread.
Nor doe I praise her with a minde to sell her.
For there's no earthly treasure that I see
Can counterveile so rich a price as she:
But to praise goodnesse in a vertuous Mate
May others move in time to imitate
Whats'ere they gracefull in another read,
And in those steps religiously to tread.
This have I in a faire Theatre seene
By a rare Curtezan of rich esteeme
Fully confirm'd: who hearing one commend
The chast-devoted life and vertuous end
Of an heroick Lady, who o'rethrowne
Could not by him who conquer'd her, be won
To his imbraces, but as't did become her,
Contemned life, for to preserve her honour.
“O, quoth this female hearer, that I might
“Be made so happy as enjoy the sight
“Of such a None-such: I should scorne these tyres
“(Times toyes) and cloath me with her chast desires,
“And th' patterne of her goodnesse so apply,
“As in her Service I would live and dye.
By a rare Curtezan of rich esteeme
Fully confirm'd: who hearing one commend
The chast-devoted life and vertuous end
Of an heroick Lady, who o'rethrowne
Could not by him who conquer'd her, be won
To his imbraces, but as't did become her,
Contemned life, for to preserve her honour.
“O, quoth this female hearer, that I might
“Be made so happy as enjoy the sight
“Of such a None-such: I should scorne these tyres
“(Times toyes) and cloath me with her chast desires,
“And th' patterne of her goodnesse so apply,
“As in her Service I would live and dye.
This gravell'd all the Actors; but her hart
What e're they did, could not forget her Part
Which she so well perform'd, as that same night
This Curtezan became a Convertite.
What e're they did, could not forget her Part
Which she so well perform'd, as that same night
This Curtezan became a Convertite.
Some other graces I could feature too,
Which to a judgement give a beauteous show
Because they have no varnish to adorne
Their sweet condition with a borrow'd forme.
And trust me, in such colours I'de portray them
As they should need no Herald to display them,
Were it not that so many antient Dames
Whose very yeares should tender their good names,
Seeing her gracefull vertues so approv'd
And by herselfe improv'd, and therefore lov'd,
Might hold their actions blemish'd, when they heare
So pure a light fixt in a lower Spheare.
Which to a judgement give a beauteous show
Because they have no varnish to adorne
Their sweet condition with a borrow'd forme.
And trust me, in such colours I'de portray them
As they should need no Herald to display them,
Were it not that so many antient Dames
Whose very yeares should tender their good names,
Seeing her gracefull vertues so approv'd
And by herselfe improv'd, and therefore lov'd,
So pure a light fixt in a lower Spheare.
First, youthfull widdowes, I appeale to you,
Who, loth to lose th' benevolence that's due,
Upon your Second marriage, cry alas—!
“O what a brave Blade my first Husband was!
“How pliable to me at bed and boord,
“How active in his worke, true to his word!
“What prettie toyes (such was his loving care)
“He would have brought me home from every Faire!
“The first ripe Cherry that was to be sold,
“Could it have purchas'd bene with weight of gold
“Had bene presented me: were Pease-cods deare?
“They had bene mine ith' non-age of the yeare.
“No gossip feast, but I might be invited,
“Where though I revell'd till I was benighted,
“Good man, he would sit up, till I came in,
“And with sweet language my affection win.
“If I but frown'd, hee'd weepe like any Child,
“And fast from meat till he was reconcil'd.
“No forraigne fashion, cost it ne're so much,
“But I must have't, his fancy it was such;
“I had mine owne will too in every thing,
“Which to that height of spirit did me bring,
“As what I knew for best I would not doe,
“Because my Husband had a mind thereto:
“So as I often alter'd my intent
“Because he wish'd me doe that which I ment.
“An agile Husband too, to crowne my wish,
“But I find no such activenesse in this.
“His spirit resteth onely in command,
“His soveraignty to have the upper hand;
“But since to be my head it is his happe,
“I vow, that to that head I'le be the cappe.
“To temper then a nature that's so curst,
“Wee'l strive who shall enjoy the Buckler first.
Who, loth to lose th' benevolence that's due,
Upon your Second marriage, cry alas—!
“O what a brave Blade my first Husband was!
“How pliable to me at bed and boord,
“How active in his worke, true to his word!
“What prettie toyes (such was his loving care)
“He would have brought me home from every Faire!
“The first ripe Cherry that was to be sold,
“Could it have purchas'd bene with weight of gold
“Had bene presented me: were Pease-cods deare?
“They had bene mine ith' non-age of the yeare.
“Where though I revell'd till I was benighted,
“Good man, he would sit up, till I came in,
“And with sweet language my affection win.
“If I but frown'd, hee'd weepe like any Child,
“And fast from meat till he was reconcil'd.
“No forraigne fashion, cost it ne're so much,
“But I must have't, his fancy it was such;
“I had mine owne will too in every thing,
“Which to that height of spirit did me bring,
“As what I knew for best I would not doe,
“Because my Husband had a mind thereto:
“So as I often alter'd my intent
“Because he wish'd me doe that which I ment.
“But I find no such activenesse in this.
“His spirit resteth onely in command,
“His soveraignty to have the upper hand;
“But since to be my head it is his happe,
“I vow, that to that head I'le be the cappe.
“To temper then a nature that's so curst,
“Wee'l strive who shall enjoy the Buckler first.
But cheerfull is my Panthea, and desires
To feed her fancy with diviner fires.
It cannot her sweet disposition please
To twit her last Choice with abilities
Of her first Husband: Such discourse, sayes she,
Tasts more of lightnesse then of modestie.
Her actions are all noble, and her speech
So full of gravity, as it may teach
The antient'st morall Dame, how to behave
Herselfe both for the World and the Grave.
To feed her fancy with diviner fires.
It cannot her sweet disposition please
To twit her last Choice with abilities
Of her first Husband: Such discourse, sayes she,
Tasts more of lightnesse then of modestie.
So full of gravity, as it may teach
The antient'st morall Dame, how to behave
Herselfe both for the World and the Grave.
Admit she be no Helena of Greece,
Whose beauty wrought that tragicall increase
Of Princely Funeralls: it was my care
To set my fancy on an inward-faire,
Whose never-fading Lillies might survive
The richest piece of beauty that's alive;
And in her passage hence more sweetnesse breath,
Then thousand Hero's when surpriz'd by death.
Whose beauty wrought that tragicall increase
Of Princely Funeralls: it was my care
To set my fancy on an inward-faire,
Whose never-fading Lillies might survive
The richest piece of beauty that's alive;
And in her passage hence more sweetnesse breath,
Then thousand Hero's when surpriz'd by death.
For tell me what's this skin-deepe beautie worth
When her diviner spirit is let forth
T'enjoy her freedome! Where are then those Starres
Whose love-attractive lights commenc'd such warres
With all the Senses! Sunke to such dark formes
As they are Cranies made to harbour Wormes.
Where those enazur'd brests which did supply
With luscious Objects loves-enamour'd eye!
Teats for those slimy wormlings now to pull
Which wanton fancie used once to cull.
Where that aspiring front, that mount of grace,
That dimpled chin, that modell of a face
More pure then Cynthia's? nay, ev'ry lim
Where fancie bath'd her liqu'rish senses in?
All husht in Earth: no motion to be found
Unlesse by worme-sprouts shaken in the ground.
This outward faire then it is little worth,
Since it receives her tincture from the earth,
Whereto it must by native course returne,
And so enshrine her beautie in an Urne.
'Las poore Vermillion Earth! how is that state
Which shew'd such braving postures in her gate
Resolv'd to mouldred dust? where every graine
Proves to the world, that the world is vaine.
When her diviner spirit is let forth
Whose love-attractive lights commenc'd such warres
With all the Senses! Sunke to such dark formes
As they are Cranies made to harbour Wormes.
Where those enazur'd brests which did supply
With luscious Objects loves-enamour'd eye!
Teats for those slimy wormlings now to pull
Which wanton fancie used once to cull.
Where that aspiring front, that mount of grace,
That dimpled chin, that modell of a face
More pure then Cynthia's? nay, ev'ry lim
Where fancie bath'd her liqu'rish senses in?
All husht in Earth: no motion to be found
Unlesse by worme-sprouts shaken in the ground.
Since it receives her tincture from the earth,
Whereto it must by native course returne,
And so enshrine her beautie in an Urne.
'Las poore Vermillion Earth! how is that state
Which shew'd such braving postures in her gate
Resolv'd to mouldred dust? where every graine
Proves to the world, that the world is vaine.
Give me that wench (and I have such an One)
No daintie Leda, nor no homely Jone,
Where any one may read each day oth' weeke
“Some morall-mortall Lecture in her Cheeke.
Where wrinkles write deepe furrowes in her face,
While ev'ry rivell do'es afford a grace
To her beseeming age: that, should we lack
Climact'rick yeares within an Almanack,
Her rev'rend brow might pencile out that want
And find an Errand for Deaths Pursevant.
No daintie Leda, nor no homely Jone,
Where any one may read each day oth' weeke
“Some morall-mortall Lecture in her Cheeke.
Where wrinkles write deepe furrowes in her face,
While ev'ry rivell do'es afford a grace
Climact'rick yeares within an Almanack,
Her rev'rend brow might pencile out that want
And find an Errand for Deaths Pursevant.
Pray then resolve me, may she not become
A Sibyl-Sister of our Hellicon,
Who can contract her browes without a loure,
Weare ages liv'rie, and ne're looke soure?
Enjoy her Husband with a just delight,
And with discretion coole her appetite?
Feed her affection with the least of Sense,
And make her wrinkles gaine a reverence?
Live chast to him she loves, and to that line
Confine those rich dimensions of her time?
A Sibyl-Sister of our Hellicon,
Who can contract her browes without a loure,
Weare ages liv'rie, and ne're looke soure?
Enjoy her Husband with a just delight,
And with discretion coole her appetite?
Feed her affection with the least of Sense,
And make her wrinkles gaine a reverence?
Live chast to him she loves, and to that line
Confine those rich dimensions of her time?
Yes; she or none! and she it is or none
Whom I'm resolv'd to set my love upon.
That since my Panarete lives in blisse,
My HYMENS heavenly Hymne may cloze with this.
Whom I'm resolv'd to set my love upon.
That since my Panarete lives in blisse,
My HYMENS heavenly Hymne may cloze with this.
FINIS.
Upon this Poem.
Some will collect from hence (they cannot chuse)
That I'm espous'd; so am I to my Muse.
Whose presence yeelds such solace to my life,
I would not change with OVERBERIE'S wife.
Toyes, Tyres and Dressings take not her desires,
She feeds her fancie with diviner fires;
Which so enliven me when I turne to her,
“Though I enjoy her, night by night I woo her.
That I'm espous'd; so am I to my Muse.
Whose presence yeelds such solace to my life,
I would not change with OVERBERIE'S wife.
Toyes, Tyres and Dressings take not her desires,
She feeds her fancie with diviner fires;
Which so enliven me when I turne to her,
“Though I enjoy her, night by night I woo her.
My Hymenæall-Heav'nly Hymne is this,
“Christ Jesus is my Spouse, and I am his.
“Christ Jesus is my Spouse, and I am his.
That MUSE which is not dedicate to Him
“Breakes her First faith, and soiles her Bed with sin.
“Breakes her First faith, and soiles her Bed with sin.
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