University of Virginia Library

The Phanseys of the Marquesse of Newcastle. Sett by him in verse att Paris

These following Verses to Mrs. Margaret Lucas before hee Married her.

1
The universall Confest Beuty

2
Love's Consideration of his Mistres' Picture

3
Love's Thoughts

Thus I doe thinke, t'is strainge I never heard
From my deare love so longe; is the way barr'd?
Or doth the State of France thinke it their gaine
By partinge Us the better to beate Spaine?
Or Els our Sacred Queene thinkes our intente
Somethinge gainst her by Us for Parliament?
For Else we sure should meet. Is ther no hope?
Doth Digby hinder it now from the Pope,
Or doubts our meetinge may perchance miscarry
The Grand Duke's Sister with our Prince to marry:
Madamosell, or Prince of Oringe's Daughter?
What is the cause wee mett not? who's the Author?
It is so longe, so longe agoe, since mett,
I doubt you will me Utterly forgett;
It is now how longe? it is, lett me see,
Since I had letter, or did heare from thee,
I Vow it is, protestinge here I may,
T'is since I heard from you, T'is one whole day.
Oh, Gods, oh, Gods, how it doth greeve my Sole
Longer then sixe month's day att Eyther Pole;
Methusalem, from's Death to's Youth and Prime,
To this longe day was not a minute's tyme;
Adam his dayes to this poore dust and Earthe
So shorte to ours as strangl'd in his birthe.
From the Creation, reckon day and night,
When God Commainded, now lett there be lighte,
Not so much tyme consum'd as in our day;
Nor Nature in that made so much decay.
Pray you then come, or write, or send, that that
We may doe somethinge; but if I know whatt
I am a Villan; what I thinke of thee
Is still too bigg to bee Exprest by mee.
Here by our Love I sweare that it is true,
Methinkes so longe since I did heare from you
That Almenackes are falce, so lay them by;
And all that tells me otherways doe lie.
They say t'is but a day, but doth inrage
Me so because to mee it is an Age.
Wee'le have new Efemerides and make
Love's Almenacks from them for our Each sake;
And houer-glasses, whose least droppinge Sand
Heape hills of houers, nay, for yeares shall stand,
When parted; but when mett Tyme shall stand still,
Observinge Us and waytinge of our will.

4
Love's Answer

When one doth aske, what news, I pray you Sir?
I answer yett I did not heare from her.
S'ounds, I meane Bristoll, says he, can you tell?
I answer, I doe hope that shee is well.
The Peace is made in Ireland they say?
I tell him, I doe thinke shee'le send to-day.
Are the Scotts turn'd Unto the Kinge? pray speake.
If she not love me then my harte will breake,
Say I. Says he, your Answers mad doe make me.
I sweare I love her, Else the Divell take me.
What's this to what I say or doe Enquier?
T'is true, I tell him, her I doe admire
Of all the world, and will doe whilst I live.
Says hee, the straingest answers you doe give;
Pray God you'r well, says he; what doth you move?
Are you awake? I tell him, I'm in love.
Oh, crie you mercy, says he, since you please
To tell mee that, for that is a disease.
And now I see Lovers all things refraine
But whom they love, and that fills all their Braine.
The Brayne is hearinge, thinkinge men do find;
So love is deafe, too, now as well as blinde.

5
The unexpressable Love dispising both Venus and Cupid

Alas, poore Cupid, you are quite Undun,
Though Heaire to Venus, and her onely son.
Poore Queene of Love, your mother, never knewe
The height of Love, in that as blinde as you.
Goe still to Courts, there flatter, Cogg, and Lye;
Drop a false teare, a windy Sith, and die
As lovers Use to doe; then pale and tremble;
With folded Armes, in love doe thus dissemble.
Or shoote your Arrows in the Citty, than
The Mistresse may provoake the Jorney man;
Or his head Prentise, in some lovesick houer,
Steale marrige with his daughter att the Tower,
Lawfull Unlawfully there to committ
The Sinne of Matrimony with no witt.
Or Else a Codlinge Heaire Inflaminge made
To throw himselfe away on Chambermayde.
Or Else fall lower with your love that's stale;
Practise your love tricks att a Whitson Ale,
And strike Up Love in Hornepipe, Couplinge all
On Circl'd Greene boute painted Maypole tall;
There drown'd in love and wassill, that's love's streame;
Her Joynture, Apples; Portion, Curdds and Creame.
Or Joyne with Robin goodfellow, thy Doome
To fright the Mayds by stealinge of the Broome;
If the Harthe not swept cleane, or potts like newe
By rubbinge cleane, lett Faries pinshe them blewe.
Thus Joyne your forces; with these still alonge
Enamore Shepards with the Milkemayd's Songe;
Or from a frumpe of Darymade, you finde,
Th'inraged Carter whip till's horse breake winde.
These petty Artes, God Cupid, you must Use,
And sporte your selfe by others to abuse.
Poore Child, but did your boyship ever knowe
The height of love, and how far it can goe?
Then I will teach you manners; you shall finde
You'l wishe your selfe as deafe as you are blinde
Before I've done with you. What say you, Sir,
Unto a Woman? but t'is onely her:
A spotlesse Virgin, full of Love and truthe,
Freshe as is Morning's day, or her owne youthe;
Modest beyond the newcom'd budds that's faire,
That dares not looke Upon the gentle Ayre
For feare of Scandall, so shrinkes still within
Gainst Nature's lawes, doubtinge that law's a Sinne.
So Innosent, or if she grow att all,
Like Oringe trees, in her owne Pott and wall.
In her love's Climate and more bewty hides
Then all the world of Bewty hath besides;
And all her all, love's quintesence, t'is such
T'would serve all women kinde, nay, be too much,
And doth but Justly fitt her; with the least,
For shee is shee, is not to be Expres't.
Something beyond our Nature that doth move,
Or bove the Angells, t'is a purer love;
Tis more then love; from Heaven sure it came;
We all confesse it, yett it wants a name;
Too bigge for Language, like God it is so;
A thinge wee worship still but do not know.
Worship's Religeon, lett me live and die
With all my prayrs Unto your Diaty.
Settle our Church and State, that now hath none,
For to agree in one Opinion;
Converte the Independents, you will drawe
Them to Dependents all by your Love's lawe.
Since so many Opinions we have gott
Amongst our selves, from Irishe and the Scott,
We'le sett Up for our selves love's Church, no lesse;
I worship: that's the Church, You my Goddesse.
Wee'le be no more; lett all the rest condole;
Thus by our faythe and workes save our Each Sole,
For more would damme Us: I begg then of thee,
As thee I onely love, love onely me.

6
Love's Creature

I Now sitt downe with Penne and Inke and Paper,
Invoake my Muse by my dimme single Taper.
Faire as your selfe; for ther's nothinge so faire,
Your Skinne is sulli'd with Transparent Aire;
Well favour'd like your selfe; it must be so,
For there is nothinge like you that I know.
Here is no Simulisinge, you must know it;
And if not that, why then you spoyle a Poett.
Then your discription is, to do you righte,
No Sircumscription, beinge infinite.
Incomprehensible you are, oh, then
To comprehend you how can Mortall Men?
Then some Unexpressible thinge thou arte,
That fills my Immortallity and Harte
With over joye; but whether that or this
I can not call it, or know what it is.
But there it is, somethinge as farre above
Man's kindnesse, or all Mortall Humayne love,
As Infinite to finite thinges; wee'r lesse,
Since we poore Creatures att you cannot guesse.
Sweare by thy selfe then; and so for my parte
To tell what thou art, thou art what thou arte.
I sweare by thee, all other Oaths refrayne,
That I will never take thy name in Vaine:
As I love thee, and thou lov'st onely me,
Thy thankefull creature I will Ever bee.

7
Hymen's Ancorett

Like an old Soldier in Queene Venus' warres,
My wounds of love turn'd all to mangl'd Scarrs,
Love's broaken speere and bowed sworde doe meet
As offrings att your Sacred Alter's feete.
My discharg'd Pistoll, Rusty Armes, though stronge,
Dismounted Cannon, here doth lie alonge;
And all Love's Magazine, that's thought divine,
I Sacrifise here att love's flaminge Shrine:
As all sweet powders, Essence, sweet balls, Oyles,
Rich Cloaths, Fethers, Ribbans, and all Love's Spoyles
I here give Up; all Poetry renounce,
Gainst phansi'd Ryme or Verse I here pronounce.
Though your maim'd Soldier, Venus, scorne to begg
So much of you to buy a woodne legge,
Nor Pention from love's County; I'le be stript
Starke naked first, so to my parishe whipt.
You have a Shrine but are no Saynte, they say;
I have a Hymen's Saynt to whom I'le pray.
A Glorified body shee doth holde,
So Purslaine-like, so Cristall-puer her molde,
As not a spott of Sinne on her doth faule;
Most thinkes shee's free of what's Origenall.
There dropinge Hymen's beads, with homage bowe
And Sacrifise my Pious harte; there Vow
Your holy Ancorett to be alone
Within your Marrige walls, thus two's made one;
And so with holy rights more pleasure have
Then Soles that's damn'd for it, yett ours Wee'le save;
So have two Heavens by Infused grace,
See you heere, and so God there, face to face.
Beatificall Vision, thus wee'le doe,
Sav'd by you here, and in the next world too.

8
The Easterne Ayre: Love's Shepperdesse: The Divine Nature: Love's Ballsum, or the Spotlesse Lover

9
The Savinge Love

10
Love's Excuse

My Deere, how can I thinke that you love mee?
In what, or how, can I thinke that should bee?
Did you e'ar once enquier how I doe?
Yes, but that kindnesse I provoak't you to.
Or Ever sent? your woman too did flie me,
Although in Towne yet shee would not come nigh me.
Swarmes of your Courts make Visetts heere, not know
For all that whether you doe live or noe.
Well natur'de Tom sweares that his Mistresse chid him
For offringe but to see me, so forbid him.
Cruell of Cruelty, your love, I finde,
Will not your selfe nor servants lett be kinde.
What should I say in your behalfe? oh, now
I can Excuse you, and I'le tell you how:
My love to you so much, it lefte no roome
For any from you Unto me to come;
My Love did ply you so with Prose and Rime,
That my love never would give your love tyme;
My love made such assaults, did you surrownde,
That you had much adoe to keepe love's grownd;
My Love such Volleys gave, such Noble fier,
By my Inflam'd affection and desire.
So I confesse, t'is my faulte and not thine;
So aske you pardon att your sacred Shrine.
I've Won love's battle, yet your Prisner yeeld;
Though I have Conquer'd, you have won the feeld.

11
Love's Troubles

Our Love grows Troublesome, I doubt too true;
So troublesome, both troubles mee and you.
It is both peace and Warre, all State affairs
Of Comonwelths, and drownds all other Cares;
All Greefe Expresses, and Expresses Pleasure,
The height of both; is poverty and Treasure.
Divinity and Story I can drawe
Out of our love, and Newse too, and so Lawe;
What not? so Under our love all things fall,
All things is our love, and our love is all.
Such greevous pleasure, troublesome delight,
So painfull pleas'd, with and without your Sight;
All att one Tyme, those Passions mingl'd power,
Just as is sweet things mixt with those that's Sower,
So to love's taste; yett pleasure drownds the Payne,
Pleasure by Greefe, more pleasure doth remayne.
Such mingl'd Motions Variously doe move
My Panntinge Harte and tremblinge Brayne: that's love,
And love of you; I sweare by love t'is so.
It is, it is some thing I doe not know;
And yett it is so fully Exprest in that,
That it is somethinge, but I know not what:
Like the greate hiddne Secrett of our ball,
Eternall matter mov'd, that moves our all
And yett is nothinge; Motion, Accedent,
Forme's Various Shapes, call'd things by Us, thus meant.
And yett, me thinkes, we both know love so well
In fayth, yett neyther of Us it can tell.
Thus troubled least you thinke I doe neglect you,
And you are troubled that I thus respect you.
How shall we helpe our trouble? it will Ease Us:
When our love's mett together, sure will please Us.

12
Love's Heaven

I wishe I'd never seene you, seene you never;
Or Else I wishe that I had seene you Ever.
If never seene you, then in love my Fate
As other folkes, lov'd att the Common rate,
Litle or nothinge; some small passions mov'd,
To greeve and morne, and thus like Turtles lov'd;
A litle sadd and Melancholy, finde
A Showre of Teares to lay Love's siths of winde.
If Ever with you, love's Paradise true;
In love there is no heaven sure but you;
There is no hopes, no wishes to desire,
But Everlastinge Joyes cannot mount higher;
All height's delights, Various offer'd not sought,
All present, permenent, and prevents thought.
There is no tyme to come, or what is past,
All present Joyes, those Joys for ever last;
No tyme, no Age, no Seasons, heate or Cold,
Beyond all wishes with you grows not old.
No Violence, with renu'd Joyes we lie,
That's Unexpressible, thus can not die.
Oh, you Unexpressible thinge, to parte:
That teares and kills my Sole, nay, my sole's harte,
And makes my immortality Condole;
Thus murders my Sole, you sole of my Sole,
And makes my Sole a body; thus doth bringe
Mee now to thinke it a poore mortall thinge.
Infuse that Spiritt once againe to mee,
Make it immortall by your Company.

13
Love's Transmigration

If livinge can not meete, then lett Us trie
If after death wee can; Oh, lett Us die.
By Transmigration bodys still doe rainge
In thousand things, in one another chainge:
In Roses you, for finer Poseys fitt,
I, winding Silke, your tender stalkes to knitt,
And so Imbrase you; or you, heaven's due,
Fallinge on me, a dead leafe, may renue
With honey'd kisses; you, lillies newly gott,
And putt in me, turn'd now a Purslaine pott;
Or Sweeter Grapes, whose squees'd Juce is divine,
Minglinge our selfes, makinge but one pewr Wine;
Or wholsom Salletts, mingl'd to our wishe,
Thus may be Joyn'd both in one Sallett dishe;
Our Norrishment turn'd to the quintesence
Of what makes man, and is his first Essence.
Aptly dispos'd by Hymen, wee may then
Bee gott, brought forth two twinnes, be Us againe.
In spight of fate, death, Grave, still joyned thus,
Wise Nature still will make Us both, both Us.

14
A Songe

[All my Misfortunes they are gone]

15
Love's Sole's Conversation

Were we both blind, though that were much,
Wee could both live and love by touch;
If onely Deafe, and that our beinge,
Wee could discourse our love by Seeinge;
If onely Dum, Each lovinge Brest
Our love by musick so Exprest;
Wantinge our taste, not barr'd love's tellinge,
Discourse by flowers' Various Smellinge;
Wantinge our Smellinge, love not wasted,
Our minds Exprest when lipps were tasted;
Though wanted touch, love's cheefest Joy,
Platonick love thinkes that a Toye;
If sensles were our Senses' holes,
Wee could converse our Purer Soles.

16
Love's Vision

17
Love's Conjuration

18
Love's Thoughtes

Love is the pretiest pleasinge thinge,
The sweetest thoughts doth bringe,
And makes me thinke my self so wise
All Else I do dispise
As fooles; how can I thinke them less,
Havinge other busnes?
For ther is nothinge Else, in fayth,
But what she doth or Sayth;
For all the rest are but meer toys
To love, her solid Joyes;
And wonder, by my troth, I doe,
How most doe live without it too,
And thinke they're well; alas, alas,
I pitty their poore case;
For all things in love's armes are hurl'd,
Then wee are all the world.

19
Love's Resolution

20
The only Love, or Love's Philosophy

21
The onely Shee

22
Love's Torture

When you are sad, oh, then such paynes I feele:
Stretcht on the Rack, or Broaken on the wheele;
Hung by the Thumbs, my body's weight thus borne;
Or by wilde horses all in peeces torne;
Pincht with hott Pincers, peece by peece; nay, more,
Striding the Cannon, fier'd though shee roare;
Imprison'd in the firy brason bull;
Or Else Strappado'd, out my Joynts to pull.
All these were pleasurs, and would make me glad,
To my love's Tortures when you seeme but sad.
Should you be sick, and on your bed but lie,
Your Sicknesse more then myne would make me die.
My love our Bodys chaing'd, and so Each will,
My love to yours; thus bee before hand still.

23
Love's Dieing Lethergie

When you'r displeas'd, my Body's all within
As if benuminge Campher taken in;
Or Else blood chillinge Hemblock I had ta'en,
Melancholy Night Shade, or liver's bane;
Or in dull Lethe my Eye lids did steepe,
Or colder Opium lul'd them fast asleepe;
As if my Unstrung Nerves by Lettice fedd,
And moist Emultions Vapor'd to my head;
As Moone wort, or as adder's tonge, did rayne
Their poyson'd Vapors on my Unmov'd brayne.
Thus in Love's Lethergie I lie, as dead;
The Niter'd grownd my Pillow and my Bed;
From my sad Eyes a Sea of teares doe flow,
Conjeal'd to Ice, but first was turn'd to Snow.
If your least frowne such power hath, oh, then
Give but a smile, and I shall live againe.

24
Love's Ghoste

When you leave lovinge me I'le die, and then
My Ghost shall haunt you, for I'le rise againe
Att Curfu tyme; and att the dead of Night
I will appeare, your Contious Sole to fright;
Make signes, and becken you me still to follow
To sadder Graves in Church yards, ther will hollow;
To Darker Caves, and solitary woods,
To fatall Whirlepooles, and Consuming floods,
I'le tempt you; then passe by th'unluckye Ewe,
Blasted with cursed dropings of Meldue;
Under an Oake that ne'ere bore leafe, my moanes
Shall there be told you, by the Mandrake's Groanes,
Such horrid things, and Crueltys by thee;
The winds too sithing tell, thou murder'd'st mee.
Yett loath to leave you, havinge love's desier;
But forst to Vanishe in a flashe of fier.

25
Love's Murder

When your least sadder looke on me, it still
Doth make me thinke which way my selfe to kill;
Then Melancholy Vapors presse my Brayne;
Feeds on dispare all Comforts, Joy disdayne.
Phansies a Valte, darke, Under ground, like hell,
Hung all with black; and with a fatall Spell
Invoakes th'infernall Speritts, as they're Divells,
For to appeare, and counsell mee with Evills;
But their advise so childishely did tell
As I did kick and Cudgell them to hell.
Thoughts multiplyinge thoughts, how to discover
The next way to Cruelty for a lover:
Sent for a Glorious burning Taper bright,
Though a darke deed, durst doe it by the light;
Pul'd off my Dublett, all my Shert did teare,
To see my naked brest, and, without feare,
With my drawne sword wounded that Very Parte
That led Unto my more then wounded harte;
And furiously my blood gusht out, but found
Your name it writt still as it fell o'th' Ground,
Till it droun'd that and me, being all ore;
Delightfull bathinge thus in my owne gore.
My last breath nam'd you, but did not repent;
Your purer Name to heaven thus I sent.
So parted with you; thus have sevrall fames;
You sav'd, and I to Everlasting flames.

26
Love's Fate

27
Love's Providence

Some talke of Providence, and some of fate,
Of fortune, and predestination's State;
Some calls it luck, and some the Gods do mock;
And some they say, lapt in their mother's smock
Necessitated some; others free will;
Some thinke the Gods take care of Mankind still;
Others thinke not att all, but doe advance
Their heavenly busnes, leaves mankind to Chance.
Unknowinge man Unknowne things thus disputs;
Poore wretches, one another still confutes,
So remayns Ignorant; sayes that or this,
But man shall never know shure what it is.
I thinke my fate, if rightly Understood,
Is all in your hands; what we may call good:
A ruine better I doe Understand
By you, then sav'd by another's hand.
So Eyther pleases me; I'me Never sad
So you the Auther; still you make me glad.

28
The Knowne Love

Lord, how we strive in love; shall we so still?
You know without you I have not a will;
Pray you command me then, both night and day,
Since my will is, still your will to obay.
I can not live contented, pleas'd with thee,
Except you totally doe governe mee;
Pray you now doe. Alas, tis but a toy;
Can you not doo't, my deer? sweet, doo't, my Joy.
For my sake pray you grant it; then, wherfore,
For that your bounty, I'le ne're aske you more,
For all is sayd in that; then agree still
But with your selfe; we havinge but one will
Shall still agree, since that will too is thyne;
Soles married thus, as bodys doe Combine.
This is not weaknes; Wisdome I dare owne;
Thus two is justly, onely thus made one.
For my love thus you need no fayth, t'is true,
No false fayn'd words; thus you know I love you.

29
The Mariage Songe

30
Our Love dispiseing both Venus and Cupid

31
Love's Snake

To say wee'r like one Snake, not Us disgrases,
That winds, delights it selfe, with selfe Imbrases,
Lappinge, Involvinge, in a thousand rings,
It selfe thus tieinge by love's phansy'd winges;
And so doe wee. Cutt her in peeces all,
Throw them away, those peeces ne'er so small,
They'le come together, whersoe'er they light,
And glu'de so fast, such force hath love's delight,
And thus made one; and so are wee, and then
Wee, but a word, peeces made whole agen.
Ther is no wee, but one thinge still doth move,
One Matter still, the purer parte of love,
And that for grosser braynes is still cal'd wee,
For none but puer Soles sees this Misterie.
Thus like one Snake, batinge her Venum; true,
Instead of that, our's balsum of Perue:
Love hath no Venum, Poyson, in't att all,
But is all sweetnes and Balsamicall.

32
Love's Repentance

33
The Heaven's Moulde

34
Love's Flowers

35
Both Love's Sicknesse and Love's Cuer

36
Love's Constellation

Wilde Phansey, goe possesse some younger Sole,
Whose giddy humor suffers no controll;
Whose Minde yett hath no bounds settl'd att all,
No Pale about him, Hedg, or Ditch, or wall;
Who hath no Center, cause not Circkl'd in;
Bridles no Passion but is loose to Sinne,
Takes lust for love, runnes over Woman kinde;
Lookes for Contentment, never doth it finde;
His food Inconstancy, and Various winde;
Nothinge like Love about him, but what's blinde;
Such a selfe lover, yett this doth not see.
Thinkes greatest Ladys prostitute must bee
Unto his will; though Under honor's locks,
Courts these, but with a whoore doth gett the Poxe;
Or Els his high ambition Ends in stenche,
Lays his great fury with a Kitchinge wenshe;
Or Else doth worse for to save charges, and
Like a good husband makes for whoore his hand.
Nay, his Vayne glory spoyl'd, growne wretched tame,
Misseinge to lye with a greate lady's fame,
Which was his Second Plott; so all his Payne
To loose his labour, all his dresse in Vayne.
Poore Various Color'd fethers now is lost,
Ribbans att knees, Under his waste; the Coste
Is to no purpose; nor Each ribban'd boote,
Like a Ruff footed Pigion in Each foote;
Nor his greate bunshe of Ribbands in his hatt,
Which hee did buy full deare, hee knows for whatt;
And so do I, some lady to defame her,
When I dare sweare hee knowes not how to name her.
Thus wee will leave him and his weaker Crimes,
Not Wonder att the follys of these tymes.
Hymen makes mee these follys to forbeare;
I move and onely move in my owne Spheere,
Inlightn'd by the holy flame of love;
In my owne Circkle onely I doe move,
Virtue my Orbe; seal'd with a sweeter kisse,
Makes quiett sleepe still softer then it is.
After Religious rights that peace doth bringe,
As my cleer Contience is without a Stinge;
No frowny clouds, darknes, or what is night,
But when I'm out of her beloved sight.
Or, like the Sunne, that powre shee now hath gott
To Inflame others, yett herselfe not hott;
A Presedent of Virtue, shininge bright;
Who lives as good must borrow from her light;
And mortall lovers, waken'd from their dreames,
Can live and love but by our scatter'd Beames.
But Purity of love, they all will say,
Is onely our love, that perpeatuall day;
Our love's Eternall, when our bodys die
Wee'le make one Constellation in the Skie;
And then wee'r Joyn'd againe by pure desire.
Our Soules made one, thus married wee'l mount higher,
And, what so Ever living heer we are,
After our death both bee one fixed starre.
To all Posterity, when shee is nam'd,
Love's Miracle shee shall be call'd, so fam'de;
Love's Diety, so pray'd to shee shall bee:
I lost that starre call'd Lucas, that is shee.

37
The Country Cupid

38
Love's Cristall River

Wee'r like two fountayne Cristall Riv'letts cleer,
With Serpent Windings runninge here and ther;
With sadder murmerings still as we goe
At the strict Jelous bankes, least overflow.
Spight of Earth's Carefull, watchfull, porous Eys,
Wee swell our Channells, higher wee doe Rise,
And in our lovinge Course we still advance,
Mauger our Mother Earth; thus gett a glance.
Findinge we can not Joyne as yett att all,
In pearled drops we downe againe do fall;
But plyeinge still as they their watry feet,
At last we Joyne; made one as they, so meete:
Love Traffick now a Navigable River;
Parted againe, till death, we shall be never.

39
The Lovely face, a Songe

40
Love's Preparation

Just like a Penitent that doth Prepare
For to receave, washing his Sole with Prayre
And sadder teares; repentance rubbing sinne,
All spotts thereof, so cleane, though it be thinne:
A better Imortality t'will bee
T'Injoy my Heaven, which is onely thee;
Which makes me now, in hopes for to be thine,
To purge me cleane, fitt for your holy shrine.
Thus be your living Arke, and to mee drawe
Your Virgin rodd, blest Manna, and your lawe,
And keepe them sacred; and with nothing fedd
But with pure Marriage, your shew holy bred.
In me your Consecrated Arke shall lie,
No sinfull hand shall touch Us but shall die.
So Cristall pure I'le be; for you I'l boast,
Fitt to preserve you, my love's holy Ghost.
When Joyfully receave you, I dare say
That may be Justly cal'd my Easter's day,
My Resurection; and you too shall see
My blest assention when I am with thee.
But a long lent I've had, and doe beleeve
Before our Easter had too long an Eve,
Which Crusifi'd me to my onely losse,
My darke Good friday, and my shamefull Crosse.
Old and new Testament, some thinkes Us neyther;
Sure wee'r love's Bible When wee'r bound together.

41
Love's Fluide Soles

When happily Wee mett, all did admire
To see our fluid Soles turn'd all to fier,
Whose sublim'd suttle motion none did doubt,
Feeding one another, could not goe out.
Minglinge our selves thus, still must be the same,
Each living still Eternally in flame;
But, parted, gross thick melancholy Vapors
Extinguisht light, putt out our loving Tapers;
And where before two sunns when wee wer mett,
Disjoyn'd, turn'd now Each to a dull Planett.
In whirlepooles moving to meet; if so, then
Love will inflame Us both to sunnes agen.

42
Love's Muster

43
Cupid's Murder

Oh, Cupid, I am slayne,
I bleed amayne,
Struck with thy cruell darte;
No Skinne is broake, yett wounded is my harte.
Alas, I know
Her Eye browes bent, that is your bowe;
Her sparklinge Eys your Arrows shott
Into both myne; speake, is it not?
Methinks this Cruelty should make me hate her.
So deadly wounded is my Pia mater,
No Surjon can be gott to cuer this;
But from your dewey lips a balsum kisse
Dropp, Dropp that sweeter shower, love's softer rayne,
Into my Lips, 'twill cuer my wounded brayne.

44
The Gentle Soule

45
Love's panting Harte

46
Love's thankfull Harte

Though in Night's darkenesse from you, do not feare,
Since your Beames' favor gilds our Hemisphere,
And dissepates our blacker Cloudes, despayre,
Turnes Melancholy Vapers to a Cleer Ayre;
Turning our sad thoughts' mist and foggs away,
Chainginge our darker Night to a Cleer day.
But, soft, 'cause from you, methinks yett t'is Night,
Though with your sweetnesse Starrifi'd with light.
Your Devine Nature my Misfortunes tames,
Lights my darke sole, my thankefull harte inflames.
Thus by you I have light within, without mee,
But no inlifeinnge warmth att all about me
Till I'm with you: greate Goddes, all can tell
Wher you are, heaven is; wher not, my Hell.

47
Love's Emulation

Pale Envie, with her Venum'd, hissinge Snakes
And Poyson'd tayles with stings, now Undertakes,
With sick hatred and Emulation store,
To parte our loves, that wee should love no more.
Spight of Each witchcraft, sorsery, and spell
Of Courte Divells, in their dissemblinge Hell,
And Subtlest Spiritts, with their blacker artes,
Can not Untye th'affection of our Harts.
Incorporated so, not two but one;
Halves are not two, but shews love's Union.
Love is Immortall, can not suffer death;
Wee chaing'd our Soules, with kisses, by our breath.
Prethee, take heed; be carefull then of myne,
And I will looke as carefully to thine.
No, t'is not so; not two, they're still but one;
One is together, thus wee'r ne'ere alone.
In spight of fate, wee never can be two,
But still United, what e'er they can doe:
Theirs Is not hatred but pewre love, you'l see;
For all the men lov'd you, the Women mee.

48
Love's Sunne

Oh, can we love and live? praye, lett Us die
If liveing can not meete; I'l tell you why:
When dead we may both of Us turne to Ayre,
So meete in Higher regions that is faire,
Thus have a Calme; or turn'd to waters sweete,
Postinge downe Rivers, in the Sea to meete;
Or Else, our subtle Motions Ayre, mount hier,
Our heated love Inflame Us to one fier,
And there we'er Joyn'd: one Sunne, your love and mine,
On Mortall Lovers here Ever to Shyne.

49
The Unexpressible love

My love to you Is so much, nay, tis more
Then Ever lovers yett did know before;
Theirs no Proportion, theirs is so much lesse;
Myne more then any language can Expresse.
Iff a new Alphabett was made, too small
T'expresse least parte of our love; how then all?
Nay, Algebrase, Arethmatick all o'er,
Will still fall short; our love will still be more.
Not the World's Heroglificks for ours stand;
Our love's small partes, more numerous then the sand.
Poore lady Venus and her Son, that youth,
All fictions, farre too litle for our truth.
We must finde out some new way how to move
The greatest Witts to gesse but att our love.
Love, that word's too litle, like motes to the Sunne,
Love, forty years agoe, serv'd Doctor Dunn,
But wee'r beyond it farre; our wise delight
Is what wee know, not know that's Infinite:
Then tis a God to all love Else; then thus
All Lovers as our Creaturs worship Us.

50
The Confeste Love

You are the fayrest, all the world can tell;
Why you are so, is cause you love mee well.
The Comliest too, sweetest and best behavior,
Best favor, cause that I am in your favor.
Your witt and Judgment best, when tis Exprest
Exceeds mankinde, cause you love mee the best.
And Every thing that thus Excells in thee
Is, I dare sweare, because that you love mee.
But stay, I doubt Erronious that will bee;
Is it not, Deare, because that I love thee?
No, None of these reasons att all the Cause,
For you are Justly those by Natur's lawse;
For could you hate Mankind, Mankinde hate you,
You and they both must needs confesse t'is true.

51
Love's Immortality

52
Love's Petition

Love me, I prethee, love mee; as I live,
I'd have thee love mee more then love can give.
Thou must not be now as before thou wast;
Can'st thou not give mee more love then thou hast?
That's Very strainge and, methinks, so Unkinde,
Not to give mee more love then thou can'st finde.
Why, when you've writt all your love in a letter,
Before tis seal'd you finde you love mee better;
And Evry Minut thinke can love no more,
Yett the next Minut's love scornes that before.
Then take Up love before hand, pray you, doe;
I'l pay love's Principall, and Int'rest too,
For I am rich in love; my love's not scant,
I'le sweare for my love you shall never want;
And if in love a Bankrout, can not Paye,
I'le quitt your debt, give you love Evry day:
What a rich Match to you then shall I prove;
You'l have ten thousand pounds a yeare in love.

53
The unparalel'd Love

The Princes Mary Marrys Kinge of Poland,
And you, my Deer, do marry Prince of Noland.
Shee hath a Portion, I hope you have non;
Shee hath a Dower, but your Dower's gone.
Theirs are but rich Externall shews, that move
Like love, not it; ours pure Internall love.
She doth imbrase all this world's full delight,
And you take mee to bidd the world good Night.
Shee will possesse what height of Courts can be,
But you take Up your Crosse to follow mee;
Leaves Court, your Parents, Brothers, Sisters, freinds,
Onely for mee, and hath no other Ends.
Could all the Love that Ever was on Earth
Be reckon'd Up, or all from Cupid's Birth,
Or from his Lady Mother's, nine years old,
And all the Gods' love, more then can be told
Is yours, and onely yours; these never knew
This way and height of Love, that fitts but you.
Who could do this but you? and onely you.
Is't not a dreame, a fiction? no, tis true,
Beyond Example, or what fayn'd; therefore,
Since none E'er did soe, none shall E'er doo't more.
All femall loves to this, how short they've been,
Male freindships to the height of Masculin.
So farre above them your Eternall fame,
I wishe for my sake I could giv't a Name;
Beyond Expression, that doth make mee morne;
T'is beyond Words, or deeds, to make returne;
Thus I'm inslav'd. All other love still tends
Onely for bargains, and such petty Ends.
Some might give bounties, and then sickly lie;
Or in their love's pil'de fun'ralle flames ther die,
Surpris'd with Sorrow, or a sudden Passion,
Or a Vaine Glory, like a Woman's fashion;
Or Madd for love is nothing lesse to die.
But for to dare to live in Misery,
That's love and Corage; all things Else refus'd
That is not mee, and mee thus onely Chus'd
That's wholly ruin'd; that you know's my State;
And yett will love mee thus, in spight of fate.
Thus Miseries opresse me, makes me bowe;
I ne'er knew greefe nor Misery till now.
Oh, you are Cruell, such love you might give
As might oblige mee not in slavery live.
To manacle mee thus makes mee condole,
Thus to imprison and chaine Up my Sole;
My Immortallity thus is not free,
But made your Vassell by this Crueltye.
Honour, Virtue Noble, too litle; say,
Nay, sweare, you've putt mee downe in my owne way.
Oh, fie, you love too much, pray you love lesse;
Some fine and litle love I might Expresse:
Your snow white Skinne, and then my Muse to seeke
Lillys and Roses for your Eyther cheeke,
So Simulise you all; but I do know it,
Ther's nothing like you, so you spoyle a Poett.
Pray you love lesse; how shall we doe with Us?
Yett love no other; Ignorance might thus
Make him Emperious; pray, doe not trie;
He may perchance think't your Simplicity.
Or if you tooke some fine rich Ayre with land,
Whose obligation could not Understand.
Ther's No Unhappy, happy fate but myne,
So fitt a Subject for your love to shine.
Tis too much love; for now my thankefull harte
Is loath to ruine you, yett will not parte.
You over love; know, pray you, what you doe;
You've ruin'd mee with love, and your self too,
Mee for your sake. Else Height of love's Content;
Since tis our Soles' Choyse, we shall ne'er repent.

54
The Orientall Pearle

The Oriental'st Pearle, had I my wishe,
I'd robb the Richest of the Sea-shel'd fishe
For pendents for you; Necklases not deck
But serve for foyles, worne by your whiter Neck.
So richest Dimonds: who would not dispise
Their luster when compar'd Unto your Eyes?
The Rubie of the rock, who would now seeke
When they're putt downe by blushes of your cheeke?
Such plump and Azure Vaynes belongs to you,
As the best Saphir seemes not to be blewe.
What Juell then are you, such Treasure bringes
Beyond the wealth of Welthiest, richest Kinges?
And all this you have given mee: before
Nothinge I was, and now I wishe no more.

55
Love's Musick

Your silke and danglinge Tresses of best die,
When on your whiter Satten Skinne doth lie,
With love doth so amase mee Unto death,
When wav'd with your sweet perfum'd breath.
And then your Sun-like Eyes doth make me proud
When shines on mee, and breakes through your hayr's Cloud.
So shap't, strikes Poetts dumme; they can not speake,
And Paynters in dispayre their Pensills breake.
Your words Unto my Soule such Musick brings,
Makes Voyces hoarse, Instruments breake their Strings.
Not Downe or Beaver like you for soft touch,
But none dare offer that; no, not so much;
So sithinge dies for greefe, since there is none
But one that must Enjoy you, I that one.
Oh, happy I; my fate makes mee rejoyce,
Bove all Mankinde made happy by your Choyce.

56
Love's Commission

T'is love's Commission, Justly it may call;
For Hymen's onely Use, you have mee all.
Your words such Harmony, my Eares doth feele
All Musick Else scrapt Trenchers, Ungreas'd wheele.
Your plump fleshe with your Nature Robe, so thinne,
All others ruffe like a Beare's or a seale's skinne.
Ambrosia, Nector, nautiously should caste
When hope but on your temptinge lips to taste.
The fresher flowers, Spannishe sents, they stinke,
To your Balme's dewe, like Privie or our Sinke.
The Hansom'st of your sexe to mee appears,
Compar'd to you, like men of fowre score yeares,
Not Women. Since I've left them all for you,
And they for that left mee, your love is due:
In Justice for to love mee, and love so
As love no other; Else I'me lost, you knowe.

57
A Songe

[Oh, come, oh, come, my dearest]

58
A Songe

[Sweet harte, we are beggers; our Comfort's, t'is seene]

59
Love's Matremony

60
Love's Newyeare's Gifte

I must as others doe, appeare
For to present you this new yeare:
No Mony, or what it can bringe,
Not gives, or buy then any thinge.
Nor Creditt have I for to borrow,
Which for your sake is all my Sorrow;
Nor have I left one foote of Land,
So much as for one Minut's sande;
Weake hopes of some Contingent goods,
Faint thoughts of some Potentiall woods;
With Remote Phanseys may be fedd,
But that will buy Us nowher bredd.
What shall I offer then? a harte
Swel'd with love's passion; Evry parte
So reall, Loyall, and so true;
All of it sacrifis'de to you.
So all my thoughts cannot refrayne,
Still of you, for you, fills my brayne.
When you'le not love mee then I'l trie,
Tis Easy for your sake, to die;
A life I'l give you, for to please you,
So from my love I thus may Ease you;
I can but give you what I have;
All what I am, Unto the grave;
And my last sithinge breath shall tell
How much I lov'd you; so fairewell.

61
Love's Imagination

Oh, Joy of Joys, my love, my Sweet,
And doe we meete?
Is't not a mist before myn Eyes
That flatters mee with Lies?
And pleasing Phansys of my Deer,
And you'r not heer?
Itt is not, cannot be, my fayre.
A body of Compounded Ayre?
Or body from the Grave did steale,
Thinkinge my wounds to heale?
A Vision onely to disceave mee,
To wound mee more when you do leave mee?
Oh, it doth speake; it speakes, I finde,
With Trembling Voyce and out of winde.
Oh, speake againe; your hand give mee,
To know whether that thou art thee.
Love's Palsy in myne; prethee, fold it;
It shakes so that I can not hold it.
Shure you are you; your hart so tremblinge;
Your love and myne is no dissemblinge.
Oh, doe not weepe, nor Sith, nor Groane;
Now I am with you, make no moane.
But wee'r not mett; so Joy'de, it Equalls Sorrow:
Wee'r foxt in love; let's sleepe and meet tomorrow.

62
The Knowne Angell

Long have I now bin told What Angells doe,
Their Bewty, favor, goodnesse of Natur too;
This is but fayth; beleefe doth make it true;
But never sawe or knew any but you.
Nay, were those Glories crusht into one forme,
Compar'd to yours but a ruff, boystrous Storme.
Nay, were their Essence, Virtue's highest prise,
Sett but by your's, their Virtues would seeme Vice;
Their Soules such sinfull spotted lepars all,
With deform'd bodys, ready for to fall;
Their Naturs, but compair'd to yours, so Evill,
Sinfull dispaire would turne Each to a Divell.
Presumption damn'd them first, though it seeme odd
That Evry Angell thought to be a God;
An Easyer Matter they might thinke to be,
Then in their soles and bodys like to thee:
So now Dispaire would damn them; pray you, then,
Though Angells Damnes, save mee a Mortall man.

63
Love's Joyes

64
Love's Wonder

Your sweeter lookes, when View them to my Wonder,
Gives mee love's strictest Lawe, yett without Thunder.
Your gentle Eys, in Virtue mee still teachinge,
They Edifie mee more then any Preachinge;
Their kinder Beames, shott from your modest face,
Invirtuse mee, just like infused grace.
Your Sun-like Bewty's flaminge light, so fayre,
Each glimps of Goodnes fills my hart with Prayre;
And your Each meltinge worde, what doth it doe?
When I receave them, am so thankefull too.
Kneeling thus att your Alter and your shrine,
Findinge nothinge about mee, but divine;
Thus, by reflection of your goodnesse, stole
Thus into mee your Soule, thus saves my Soule.
Thus consecrated for mee you were sent,
Makes mee beleeve Marrige a Sacrement,
That thus hath Chang'd mee from what I have bin;
Finding nothing about mee now like Sinne,
Knows not my selfe, nor thinkes that I am mee;
Marrige it could not doo't, not Married thee.
T'is thee, and thee, and onely, onely thee;
For none Else in the world could have sav'd mee,
And sav'd mee so as now my heaven's heere,
For beyond you no wishes doe appeare;
That's heaven, shure, for heere wishes doth store Us,
And Earthly thoughts have wishes still before Us,
And I have none but you; I sweare t'is true:
I have no heaven then, but what is you.

65
Love's Creatore

You Angell-like, for Bewty and for feature,
You my Creator, then I am your Creature.
Why, pray you then, why not dispose of mee,
Since all my beeing onely is from thee?
Body and Soule, and all my all, yours still;
Am not, nor have, without you, any will.
Nothing doth move it selfe, but by another,
This Mov'd by that, and that mov'd by the t'other;
So I am mov'd by you, you to obay;
If I want that, fall to my first bakt Claye.
You first breath'd life in mee; itt was your Spiritt,
For without that, I nothing could inherritt;
And as of nothinge you did make mee, then
Without you, faule to Nothing back againe.
I begg it not for mee a preservation
But for your honor, since I your Creation.
Maintaine mee now your worke, lett it not fade;
Shew power to preserve what you have made;
Else who will thinke you a Goddesse, all-seeinge?
Doe but Command, and that Comands my beinge.

66
Love's Contemplations

67
Upon her takeing Cold

68
Love's Murmering Brooke

69
The Ravisheing Voyce

70
The Maydne Gowne

71
Love's pale Cheekes

Thy Cheekes are pale,
What doe they Ayle?
Thy blood did slipp
Into Each lipp.
I wishe it may
Ther Ever stay;
But as I came them nigh,
That rosey scarlett die
Did presently mee flie;
Div'd instantly, but wher?
Looke, looke, oh, it is there,
In thy sweet brest; I sweare
They blushe for shame.
It thither came;
What was its Ayme?
Was't modesty when spide,
Your Virgin blood, when Ey'de,
So from me it to hide?
Oh, sunke againe, t'is so.
Though buri'd ne'er so low
I'l finde it, you shall knowe.
With motion's heate Enlifne it;
Love's Resurrection make it sitt
In Triumph: who hereafter seekes,
Shall finde it in thy lipps and cheekes.

72
The too serious Love

73
The Lyrick Poett

74
Love's fier