Ex otio Negotium :: :: University of Virginia Library

Come Gallants, why so dull? What muddy cloud
Dwells on the eye-brows of the day? Why shroud
Ye up your selves in the furl'd sayles of night,
And tossing lye at Hull? Hark how delight
Knocks with her silver wings at every sense?
And great Apollo Laureal doth Commence?

Up 'tis the golden Jubilee of the year,
The Stars are all withdrawn from each glad Sphear
Within the tyring-rooms of heaven, unlesse
Some few that peep to spy our happinesse
Whiles Phœbus tugging up Olympus craw
Smoaks his bright Teem along on the Gram Paw

Heark how the songsters of the shady plain
Close up their Anthems in a melting strain!
See where the glittring Nimphs whirl it away
In Checkling Caravans as blyth as May;

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And th'Christal sweating flowers droop their heads
In blushing shame to call you slug-a beds.

Waste but a glance upon Hide-park, and swear
All Argus eyes are falln, and fixed there.
The dapled lawns with Ladies shine & glow,
Whiles bubling mounts with springs of Nectar flow;
And each kinde Turtle sits and bills his Dove
Dike Venus and Adonis lapp'd in love.

Heark how Amyntas in melodious loud
Shrill raptures tunes his horn-pipe! whiles a crowd
Of snow-white milk-maids crownd with garlands gay
Trip it to the soft measure of his Lay.
And fields with curds and cream like green-cheese lye,
This now or never is the Gallaxie.

If the facetious Gods ere taken were
With mortal beauties and disguis'd, 'tis here.
See how they mix societies, and tosse
The tumbling ball into a willing losse,
That th'twining Ladyes on their necks might take
The doubled kisses which they first did stake.

Those pretty earnests of a maiden-head
Those sugred seals of love, types of the bed,
Which to confirm the sweet conveiance more
They throng in thousand times ten thousand score

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Such heavenly surfets, as they sporting lye,
Thus catch they from each others lipp & eye.

The game at best, the girls May rould must bee,
Where Croyden and Mopsa, he and shee
Each happy pair make one Hermophrodite,
And tumbling bounce together, black & white,
Where had you seen the chance, you had not known
Whose shew had lovelier bin Madam's or Joan.

Then crown the bowle let every conduit run
Canary, till we lodg the reeling Sun.
Tap every joy, let not a pearl be spilt,
Till we have set the ringing world a tilt.
And sacrifice Arabia Fælix in
One bone fire, one incense offering.

Tis Sack, tis Sack that drowns ye thorny cares
Which hedg the pillow, and abridg our years,
The quickning Anima Mundi that creates
Life in dejection, and out dares the Fates,
Makes man look big on danger, and out swell
The fury of that thrall that threatens Hell.

Chirp round my Boyes: let each soul take its sipp,
Who knows what fals between the cup and lip?
What can a voluntary pale look bring
Or a deep sigh to lessen suffering?
Has mischief any piety or regard?
The foyl of misery is a brest prepar'd.

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Hence then with folded armes, ecclipsed eyes,
And low imprison'd groans, meek cowardise.
Urge not with oars death yt in full saile comes,
Nor walk in forestal'd blacks to yt dark tombs.
But rather then th'eternal jaws shall gape,
Gallop with Curtius down the gallant hap.

Mean time here's that shall make our shackles light,
And charm the dismal terrors walk by night,
Tis this that chears the drooping soul, revives
The benum'd captive crāp'd in his cold gyves.
Kingdoms and Cottages, the Mill and Throne
Sack the Grand Leveller commands alone.

Tis Sack that rocks the boyling brain to rest,
Confirms the aged hams, and warms the brest
Of gallantry to action, runs half share
And mettal with the buff-fac'd Sons of war.
Tis wit, 'is art, 'tis strength, 'tis all and more;
Then looss the floud gates Georg, wee'le pay or score.