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The poems of William Habington

Edited with introduction and commentary by Kenneth Allott
Habington, William (1605-1654)

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CASTARA:
  
To his best friend and Kinsman William Habington, Esquire.
  
To CASTARA,
  
To CASTARA,
  
To Roses in the bosome of CASTARA.
  
To CASTARA,
  
To CASTARA,
  
To my honoured Friend, Mr. E. P.
  
To CASTARA.
  
To CASTARA,
  
To a Wanton.
  
To the Honourable my much honoured friend, R. B. Esquire.
  
To CASTARA,
  
To CASTARA,
  
To the right honourable the Countesse of Ar.
  
Vpon CASTARA'S frowne or smile.
  
In CASTARA,
  
Vpon thought CASTARA may dye.
  
Time to the moments, on sight of CASTARA.
  
To a friend inquiring her name, whom he loved.
  
A Dialogue betweene HOPE and FEARE.
  
To CVPID,
  
Vpon CVPID'S death and buriall in CASTARA'S cheeke.
  
To Fame.
  
A Dialogue betweene ARAPHILL and CASTARA.
  
To CASTARA,
  
Vpon CASTARA'S departure.
  
To CASTARA,
  
To CASTARA,
  
Vpon CASTARA'S absence.
  
To CASTARA,
  
To THAMES.
  
To the right honourable the Earle of SHREWES.
  
To CVPID.
  
To CASTARA.
  
To the Spring,
  
To Reason,
  
An answere to CASTARA'S question.
  
To CASTARA,
  
To the honourable my honoured kinsman Mr. G. T.
  
Eccho to Narcissus.
  
To CASTARA,
  
To Seymors,
  
To the Dew,
  
To CASTARA.
  
To CASTARA,
  
Vpon CASTARA'S departure.
  
A Dialogue betweene NIGHT and ARAPHIL.
  
To the Right Honourable, the Lady, E. P.
  
To CASTARA,
  
An Apparition.
  
To the Honourable Mr. Wm. E.
  
To CASTARA,
  
To my honoured Friend and Kinsman, R. St. Esquire
  
To the World.
  
To the Winter.
  
Vpon a visit to CASTARA in the Night.
  
To CASTARA. Of the chastity of his Love.
  
The Description Of CASTARA.
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CASTARA
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CASTARA:
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PROLOGUES, EPILOGUES AND SONGS FROM THE QUEENE OF ARRAGON 1640
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OTHER POEMS FROM PRINTED BOOKS
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DOUBTFUL POEMS

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16

To a Wanton.

In vaine faire sorceresse, thy eyes speake charmes,
In vaine thou mak'st loose circles with thy armes.
I'me 'bove thy spels. No magicke him can move,
In whom Castara hath inspir'd her love.
As she, keepe thou strict cent'nell o're thy eare,
Lest it the whispers of soft Courtiers heare;
Reade not his raptures, whose invention must
Write journey worke, both for his Patrons lust,
And his owne plush: let no admirer feast
His eye oth' naked banquet of thy brest.
If this faire president, nor yet my want
Of love, to answer thine, make thee recant
Thy sorc'ries; Pity shall to justice turne,
And judge thee, witch, in thy owne flames to burne.
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