Pocula Castalia :: :: University of Virginia Library

Ile blow the Mount to Atomes, but i'l climbe
Its steep fork'd Top, and triumph over Time.
How shal I pluck from's iron teeth my Name,
That Bards unborne yet, may embalme't with fame
To last for aye? This Phoebus meant should be
A chiefe effect of my nativity.
Ne'r did Japetus son to wonder frame
His manly Statue, and inspire't with flame
Filch'd from Iove's Harth, meaning he should ascend
The Stage, there Scrape a Leg, and so descend.
For if a man should be brought forth, and cry,
And score a score of Lusters up, then Die,

And steale into his grave with no more noise
Than a blacke Ribband makes, or branch of Bayes,
And there lie mouldring under a silent stone
That courts no eyes to read th'Inscription
He were like Glow-wormes that creep out i'th' dark
At th'bottom of the Hedge, whilst no eyes mark,
If any difference 'twixt them there be
The Wormes skin shines more than his memory.
Since tis decreed then, by Impartiall Fate
Wee all must be reduced soone, or late
To our first Principle, Dust, Its my intent
To reare my selfe a death-lesse Monument:
Not that I doe desire to shrowd my bones
The labour of an Age in piled stones,
Or that my worthlesse Ashes should be hid
Under a skie-invading Pyramid.
For we of Delphos may secure our Fames
By inscribing in Times brazen leaves our names.
It is enough that wee in each mouth raise
A speaking Statue to our long-liv'd praise.

Rouze then Invention, and call Judgement in,
I know my taske, teach me how to begin
And perfect this great work. But first of all
Of what perennious materiall
Shall I erect my Monument, to last
Strong as the Poles? sweet as the fragrant East?
Cleer and perspicuous as noones bright eye
Whilest he shall hold forth light to see it by?
Shall I court curst Bellona with intent
To carve out with my sword my Monument?
No: th'Pen out lasts the Pike, and in mine eare
Minerva's Pipe sounds than her Trump more cleer.
Ile wear no spungie Buffe, nor fortifie
My selfe (my little citty) martially

With walls and countermures of steel; when I
Court Ajax shield, and the Art of Engenry
Its chiefly to oppose and keep the stout
And haughty foes of Virtue, Passions, out.

Mars shall not see me lockt in Brasse, or wield,
A speare againe, Ith blood-bedabled Field;
Unlesse my Prince, Honor, and Virtues cause
Call to assert their Rights, and equall laws.
But should I (as young Lyons new taught to prey
Invade the Herds) slow like a violent sea
On hostile Troops, or arm'd with wroth and heate
Plough up whole Armies and wall'd Townes subvert;
Or enter breaches like a winter floud
Till the resisting Cities swam in blood;
The fame o'th' deed with th'next Gazzet would burne
And with the rac'd Forts ashes find its urne.
Actions, though ne'r so arduous and high
Have no more life than one mans memory,
Unlesse some hallowed Pen in Castaly's
Sweet Nectar dipt give them eternity.
Romes glory (for whom Fame flew greater then
For other men) his acts had sullied been
With Dust of Time, had not his wiser skill
Againe done o'r, and brusht them with his quill.
Halfe's Tenure in his Booke, not all in's Sword
Lay, Ex utroque Cesar was the word.
Letters boast longer life than Porphyry
Or Marble, onely these can never die.
The Chapell sacred to great Maro's name
May sinke under Times weight, but not his fame,
That shall new burgeon in his high-rear'd straine,
And in his Verse his Bay shall sprout againe.
Though others wither, onely this chast Tree
From stormes, from blasting, and from bolts is free.

Not Naso's face ingraven in Rings of Gold
And worne by Princes, made his fame so old,
But his sweet Mvse that soar'd so even, yet high,
This, this 'twas tooke from him the power to die.
Trophies and Crownes i'th Field are but halfe given
I'th Study halfe. Deeds glorious as Heaven
Till Poesie send them 'bout the World to run
On even measur'd feet, are but halfe done,
They are not fledg'd till imp'd with th'Poets Quil
(The chiefest feather in Fames wing) his skill
Reads men and Deeds their doomes, his breath, like Fate
Can what he please make or annihihalate.
He gilds o'r Princes Crownes, his numbers can
Make Ease tast bitter, sweet Affliction.
Was not neat Ovid, a poore exil'd thing,
More honour'd than Assyria's wanton King
Melting to lust at home?—
Conquer'd Troys Son, and conquering Latium's Sire,
Lost not so much blisse by the Midwifes ire,
As by that golden Trumpet of his Deeds
Virgil, hee gain'd; 'twas he rais'd up his Head
To Heaven with Statues: though the hot youths Flame
Wasted the Towne 'twas He preserv'd the name.
Thou not immortall art great Thetis son,
For being dipt in Stix but Helicon,
By the blind Bard: He left not out thy heele,
Deaths dart thou, nor thy name, no more shalt feele.
Great He (the Muses high Priest) travelling
To lift unto the Starres the Ithacan King,
A Monument eternall hath brought forth
Which shall from eating Age preserve them both.
Of Princes this, of Poets that the Glory,
Homer by Ulysses live, he by his story.

Pallas strong arm (there) heaves them both so high
That Kings for such a Tombe would wish to die.
These Tombes shall live, and will admirers have,
Although Mavsolus his prove its own grave,
And needs a Muse that memory to afford
T'its selfe, that it should doe unto his Lord.

Since their names longest last whom their owne terse,
Or others pens embalme with sacred Verse,
By this Ile strive to be no sluggard knowne,
And to make every Age to come mine owne.
Ile court the Sister Quire with praises meet,
To teach my words to run on measur'd feet.
At Phoebvs Shrine my vowes i'l make and pay,
And on his Altar Sacrifices lay
And pil'd-up Hecatombes: His Harths I'l feast
With odors fragrant as the Phœnix neast.
Sweet gummes shall smoak in curles, and in his fire
Spice crackling yeeld sounds pleasant as his lyre,
In his wise eare: Thither my sweet-breath'd prayer
Shall up in clouds of Incense climbe; the aire
My Hymnes shall lull; Heap'd perfumes pious light
With flames full cleer, and as his own raies bright
Shall gild his Fane, till he unsealed hath
The holy Eount; there will I drench and bath
My braines, till they from earth and thicknesse are
Refin'd, and pure as are those streames; I'l there
With crown'd bowles swell me, till my fancy flies
Neer Heaven, entranc'd and fill'd with extasies,
Then sing notes worthy his owne Harpe, and prove
The Acts o'th' Theban and Evrydice's Love
No truthlesse tales, for duller things my Layes
Shall nimblier move, and stranger structures raise.
I'l scrue the spheres up higher, and lend agen
The Harmony of their round race to men.

Ile fix th'Almighty Poets Pen upon
The Zodiacke a Constellation.
If Momvs snarles, in drumming tunes my wrath
Shall rime the Dog, like Irish Rats, to death.
In keen Iambick's Ile untrusse the Elve
Till he runs mad, or wisely hangs himselfe
Lycambes like. Ile squirt his eyes with Inke
Shall rot the wretch, his Libels Leth' shall drinke.
Or plac'd above his reach, his rage Ile scorne,
And laugh to see his shafts on's owne pate turne.
Ile make each friend a Star, and fill the skies
Unfurnish'd roomes with them, and give more eyes
To Heaven to see those Hero's I will seat
Borne up by Statues, on a Pyramede
Of Glory in my Poems; I shall be
Eterniz'd thus by them, and they by me.
Then if no Issue of my Loynes convay
My Spirit downe unto Posterity,
That of my braine will: my lov'd Poetry,
My Son my History and Tombe shall be.

R. B.

Carminibus nec Fata nocent, ac sæcula prosunt,
Solaque non norunt hac Monumenta mori.

MARTIAL

FORTVNES TENNIS-BALL.

A Moral Fable.

Si Fortvna volet fies de Rhetore Consul.
JUVEN.

TO The Choicest of my Noble Friends, John Wroth Esquire.

I'm big with love. How shall I (gentle Wroth)
Set it, and th'cause of it, thy merit, forth?
I'm no rare Herald to fetch far thy name,
Or patch together coates to cloath thy Fame,
Yet I doe more than that when call thee Good;
For Vertue's higher noblenesse than blood.

I'm no grave Antiquary, to present
Old Medals, or some dusty Monument
Of some great Ancestor, by Reliques foes
Envy and Time, rob'd of an Eare or Nose.
For Worth I will not rake their sleeping Urnes,
That which but glow'd in them, in thee bright burnes.
Thee, who had old Rome in her Glory seen,
Thou 'mongst her hundred Statues plac'd had'st been:
But safe in them thy Name could not have stood,

From Times sharp teeth, even them he makes his food.
The Memphian wonders that so long did boast
Their neighbourhood and kin to Heaven, are forc't
To bow their proud tops, and begin a new
Acquaintance with low Earth, where first they grew.
Rhodes haughty Colosse that bestrid the Floud,
Is now but Aier wherein once it stood,
And needs the everlasting Muse to tell
The World it once had such a Miracle.

The Muse 'twas furnish'd Heaven with Deities;
Fames Roll with Hero's, and with Stars the Skies.
Her workes will last, 'twas She that Power did give
To some men longer than those Pyles to live.
And if that I finde grace with her to grow
In favour, shee shall doe much more for you.

Yours, More than mine own. Robert Baron.

TVCHESPHAIRA: OR, Fortunes Tennis BALL.

1

Great Cesar's Barne, Romes life, and Granary,
That so august, so great, so fertile Isle,
Where th'kicking Monster on his back doth lie,
Spitting forth flames through the Ætnean pile,
Whose smothering smoke, & sparkles at random driven
Do seem to lend new clouds and Starres to Heaven.

2

Therevtvs rul'd; A far worse man than King,
A Zealous Vot'ry of Diana's borne,
His shrill voice made each Quire of Eccho's ring,
His onely musicke was the Hunting Horne,
And game to see his flapmouth'd kennell follow
The chase, and yelping keep time with his hollow.

3

Neere to Palermo was a flowrie valley,
Levell'd and trim'd by sweating Mowers hand,
Some Rivolets slide swift, some slowly dally
With the even bosome of the sluced Land.
There Nature wanton was, and the high way
Did seeme inclosed, though it open lay.

4

Pastures in Flora's tapst'rie clad were gay,
With golden eares to pay the Ploughmans fees
Each field shon bright, the scaly Nations play
In flowing cristall, fring'd with wavering trees.
As if Industry joynd with Art so nice
To represent or excell Paradise.

5

But to what end if man was banish'd thence,
Was this Elizian Palace of delight?
What though the West hath gems, th'East Frankincense,
If this feasts not our smell, nor those our sight?
What ere is faire or good was made for use,
And the not use of things is things abuse.

6

No wight durst tread that in-vaine pleasant soyle,
For the adjoyning Thicket and curl'd Grove
Shelter'd a Boar Amyntas hopes did spoile,
Like him that toar from Love-sick Love her Love.
This fate (Woods mutter) he deserv'd, hunting there,
When Venvs would be's Parke, if he her Deere.

7

His jawes with double sword, his back was arm'd
With a set Battaile of Pikes sharpe and brisly,
His crooked tushes slew, not lightly harm'd
What ere he kist with's Urchin snout so grisly.
His foam besnow'd the trampled corn, the fair
Meads he plough'd up, his fume inflam'd the aire.

8

The Rosie-finger'd Morn did there disclose
Her beauty ruddy as a blushing Bride,
Gilding the Marygold, painting the Rose,
With Indian Chrysolites her cheekes were dy'd:
But when this Monster rouz'd him in the vale,
Feare chas'd her blush, and frighted Day look't pale.

9

The Sun durst not see him devoure his Prey,
But peeping through the leaves of Poplars green,
They shak'd; and trembling streames did run away
Groaning, and crowding strove to passe unseen.
Birds, Beasts, yea buzzing Flies petition'd Nature
To stop his breath, or change his ugly feature.

10

This prodigy of Nature and the Wood,
The fields Mower, the Mowers terror, water'd
Parch'd droughty Pastures with a crimson floud,
Then made them white with bones of bodies slaughter'd.
Hardie Therevtvs long'd to see this Beast,
(Fierce as himselfe) come smoaking to a feast.

11

His Hounds by fast made eager of the Prey,
His Javelin whetted sharpe as Crocea Mors,
Clad all in green, as he were Son of May,
He mounts his well-breath'd wind-out-running Horse.
Now like the God that beares the silver Bow,
Encountring with huge Python, did he show.

12

Ere village Cocks (the Labourers shrill Alarms)
Had thrice done Salutation to the morne,
He rouzed Eccho from Narcissus armes,
Instead of Chaunticleer his earely Horn
Call'd Phosphorvs into the milkie way,
And Nights faint shades flew fore his conquering Ray.

13

Aurora blushed to be found in Bed.
The Greenes with Roseall dew did wash their face
'Gainst Sol's uprise; the Howers opened
Heavens folding gates, through which with awfull pace
Bright Titan issued, cloath'd in Tissue gay,
Attended by his spangled Page, the Day.

14

The Aire's all noise, the hot-sent-snuffing Hounds
Awak'd the Terrour with their challenging knell.
In swelling rage the innocent Earth he wounds,
And like three-headed Porter (Swisse) of Hell,
Rush'd forth resolv'd to breake his fast on them
That durst presume so neer his Den to come.

15

As fell Medusa covetous of slaughter
Did drive the waves before his mighty breast,
Shaking his eares above the troubled water,
Disgorging new seas from his monstrous chest,
Extending yawning Jawes: so shew'd this Swine
Fiend-like as he, fierce as the angry Brine.

16

As cowards vaunt ere wreath'd brasse bids the Base,
Bragging they'l shoostrings make of guts of foes,
But when Mars seizeth for Deaths use the place,
And all whom courage rescues not, and blowes,
Then Palsie feare supprize their joynts, which fright
Doth knock together, and make another fight.

17

So th'mungrill currs, erst bold as to defie
The unseen Monster, (so rash is rage) now stand
Afraid to view him with halfe open eye,
Gazing like Armies in the Netherland.
Finding their balefull foe so grim and curst,
They all strain court'sie which should cope him first.

18

When Trumpets loud Tantarra to the fight,
Blowes make bruiz'd Armours Eccho to the noise:
So th'Horne into these Dogges infus'd new sp'rit,
Their mouthes they spend, and are become all voyce.
The airy Queen (sounds child) each yell replies,
As if another chase were in the skies.

19

The merry Horne fill'd with couragious breath,
Proclamed Parley to the woods grim wonder.
He stoutly scorn'd the summons of his Death,
And mockt their challenges with his mouthes thunder.
The busie flies he snarl'd at, and did chase
His owne foule shadow on earths wrinkled face.

20

The Boare his Tuske in many a Dog did sheath,
Their goar, his foam, like blood with milke bespread
(Whilst them he toss'd now over now beneath,
His fangs and head) bepainted all with red
His frothy mouth. The Hounds are at a Bay,
The eager cry still'ith'same place doth stay.

21

Howling with anguish here's a brace of Hounds,
There lay two other dew-bedabbled wretches
Kennel'd in Brakes, licking their venom'd wounds,
Shaking their eares, tatter'd and torne with scratches,
Their stiffe tailes 'gainst the grasse they clap and beat,
And lard the thirsty ground with blood and sweat.

22

When th'Huntsmans voice spoke Terror to the Boar,
Terror the Parasite Eccho said, like him.
When th'churlish Swine Death to the Dogs did roare
Death said the flatterer, like the beast so grim.
As Apes do postures she mock'd every cry,
Thus newters doe with either side comply.

23

The blunt Boar scorning to be kept in mew,
To ly besieg'd by snarling Curs too proud,
Like the Lernean Snake he rouzing shew,
And rush'd through the-in-vaine opposing croud.
Swift as a Roe up to the Hills he flew,
The hot-spur'd Hunters, with full cry pursue.

24

By this the Fountaine of Light low did run,
Inchanting Philomel chanted her Vesper,
The silver erst, now golden (setting) Sun
Trebled each shade; the Owle peep'd out with Hesper.
Green Tethys from her sweaty bed thrust Night,
Expecting there her far more fair delight.

25

All on a sudden Darkeness doubled was,
Flashes and noise the moving Skie distracted,
Boreas sung terrour in a blustry base,
Both Night and Winter in a storm contracted.
Thunder-bolts split the Cedars that aspir'd,
Their blasted tops the nimble Lightning fir'd.

26

The dabled South, ruffe-footed Aquilo,
Came rushing like two Rams whose steeled Horns
Dart fiery sparks and Stars; the Clouds crush'd so
Breath flames: the Air distill'd in rain and storms,
Which suffered no two together stay,
Each, as in ship wrack shift their severall way.

27

No friendly Star or Moon-like Pylots kind
(Oh Fate of Darknesse!) guide them on their way,
The formost curse them that did lag behind,
And they the formost; all ride on and stray.
Their voices all are spent, and they that follow
Can track the first no longer by their hollow.

28

They wander and take Bridges to be Stiles,
When King Therevtvs (from his train aloofe)
In spight of Night and error, spies the whiles,
A small light glimmering in a smoak dri'd roof.
Thither he makes, such straglers as these are,
A Candle weak admire more than a Star.

29

His Highnesse meant not to discover here,
His true estate, and greatnesse of his name,
'Cause he would not affright the Cottager,
But learn what of himself said common fame.
So through his Camp disguis'd went Philips Son,
To hear how opinions Tide on him did run.

30

In this low thatch'd patch'd Graung dwelt Adelin
A swaine whose quiet life honesty compleated,
Of him the wandring unattended King
A homely lodging for that Night entreated,
The poor wight (rich in love and gentle words)
Proffers the best his humble shed affords.

31

Then set he 'fore his Guest (whom he not knew)
Sweet Growte, and Whig, and Flap-jacks of fine meal,
A sheeve of household bread of nut-brown hue,
Cheese white as Milke, nor lack'd there bonney Ale,
Nor Wildings and ripe fruits, which to the eye
Gave pleasing tast ere they the mouth came nigh.

32

The King with unexcited Appetite,
Appeas'd his craving Maw with these plain Cates;
Then did he halfe envy the secure Wight,
With whom of Shepherds easefull lives he chats,
Praising a Cottage 'bove a slippery Court,
To which the Hind replied in such sort.

33

“A Prince that in the Cedars top doth build,
“And scornes the Sun, and dallies with the Wind,
“Only a Title hath his care to gild,
“His gay robe's lined with a restlesse mind.
“They that stand high have many blasts to shake them,
“And falling from on high, the more they break them.

34

“The more we graspe the Waves the lesse we hold:
“So who seekes ease in greatnesse, ease him flies.
“Just as the Persians did by slaves of old,
“Fate doth by Kings, Crown them for Sacrifice.
“Glories, like Glow-wormes, a far off shine bright,
“But look'd to neer have neither heat nor light.

35

“The Court is Fortunes cheating Lottery,
“Where places are like to the Beds that fill
“An Hospitall, where this mans head doth lie
“At that mans feet, so lower and lower still.
“When a Star glides (we say) a Child is born,
“So this Lard mounts when that slips into scorne.

36

“Souldiers, whose prize is praise, and Trophies skars,
“When they through new red seas for many a year
“Have swam to glory, become Astronomers,
“And Almanacks in their dry bones they bear;
“Or they turn Geometricians, and so
“Practice their Art on crutches as they go.

37

“Tough pale-fac'd study bookish men doth pine,
“This is that Vulture which Promethevs tore;
“Merchants that dwell with Fish in the blew brine,
“Oft lose their lives seeking t'increase their store;
“The toyling Craftsman drinketh his own sweat,
“And out hard iron hammereth his meat.

38

“Content the Shepherds Cottage onely fills,
“With th'earely Sun he doth his Flock unfold,
“And all day long on easie climbing Hills
“Or flowrie Plaines he merry chat can hold,
“Or indite Sonnets in an amorous vein,
“And with the setting Sun he folds again.

39

“Then jogging home he turnes a Crab, or else
“He tunes a round, or sings some chearly rime,
“Or on the tongs he counterfeits the Bells,
“Nor lacks he gleefull tales to cheat slow time.
“There sits he, and whilst round the bowle doth trot,
“Sings care away, till he to bed hath got.

40

“There sleepes he found, forgetting morrowes cares,
“Ne stormes, ne frayes, ne crack of credit lost,
“Ne blasts he feares, nor uttering of his wares,
“Nor franklier spends than's Flock defrayes the cost.
“Swains sleep and make more quiet nights and daies
“Than their great care-bit Lords, whose herds they graze

41

“Low set and richly warme, our Proverb wot,
“Dangers o'r fly us, mischiefes hit the high,
“Content's the Crown, this is the Shepherds lot;
“A King is but a Man, and so am I.
“Not to compare, I would not change my place,
“With great Therevtvs, Heaven shield his Grace.

42

Now leaden sleep 'gan weigh their eye-lids down,
The Lamp with darknesse strove, being almost spent:
When th'weary King (half out of love with's Crown)
Unto a cleanly, though scarce soft, Bed went,
Sleep is not tied to softnesse, more soundly
Hinds rest than they that in downe smother'd lie.

43

When slumber had shut in, and Morphevs bar'd
The windowes of his soule, and lock'd out care,
I'th silent time of night a voice he heard
As from above, calling to Him Fear, Fear.
Lost in amazement did he then uprise
Frighted, as Soldiers taken in supprize.

44

As did Dametas when Pamela fled,
He struts about the room with hair upright:
And cries, who calleth, but is answered
Only by Eccho, and the Bird of Night.
Then takes he's Bed again, and this fright numbers
Amongst the mockries of unquiet slumbers.

45

The next voice touch'd his Organ was Yeeld, Yeeld.
Then wak'd in's mind a thought of trechery.
Amidst these sweaty doubtings he beheld
The Genius of the Graunge before his eye,
Crown'd with such Chaplets as adorne a Wake:
Bowing his Cornu-copiæ, thus he spake.

Mighty Souveraigne

I am come
“From the blest Lalarium,
“The seat of the Household Gods,
“Where th'Lares have their quiet abodes,

“To tell thee 'tis the Thunderers will,
“Thou call'st to mind his Oracle,
“Which when thou asked'st who should be
“Thy Successor, thus answerd thee.

The Oracle.

“When a Lamp shall be thy Star,
“And thou both King and Cottager,
“And when thou to Bed shalt go
“Twice in one night, then shalt thou know.

The Resolution.

“This is the Time, the Lamp whose light
“Brought thee hither, thy Star I hight.
“Whilst here thou dwel'st with Adeling,
“Th'art Cottager as well as King.
“You left, and took again, this Night
“Your Bed, being seiz'd and rid of fright.

“Know then, Great, and as good, King,
“Aplote daughter of Adeling
“This night has borne a smiling Boy,
“The Gransires hope, the Mothers joy,
“The Heire by his Nativity
“To Natures wealth, Fates Poverty.
“But Fortune meanes in him to show
“How great she can from meannesse grow.
“Architects low foundations lie,
“When they intend the building high.

“See! how the spangles of the Night
“Doe sparkle with unusuall light,
“Heaven puts his cloudy tresses by,
“And smiles on him with open skie,
“Whilst all the Planets seem to throw
“Their Golden radience at his brow,
“Which by reflection Divine
“Shall thence upon his Subjects shine.
“Th'Imperiall Thunderer, with her
“That Crownes ad placitum confer,
“Have sworn by the salt Stygian Floods,
“That glide through the darke Midnight Woods,
“That Hee, and his redoubted race,
“(Whose Acts shall break Fames wind to blaze)
“Shall wear (thee dead) thy Diadem,
“And adde more Lustre to the Jem.
“Seek not to cross Fate, lest (wave like)
“You break upon the Rock you strike.
“Strive not against the stream. Alas!
“Who spits at Heaven, spits in's own face.

46

The Genius vanished, Thereutus laid,
In a mixt Passion betwixt feare and hate.
No sleep he saw with's prickling eyes, which straid
On objects of his fall, his Heiers state.
Soft sleep requires of thoughts a vacancy,
Shee dwels in Tityrvs's not Tiberivs eye.

47

By this the Quiristers o'th' Wood did shake
Their wings, and sing to the bright Suns uprise,
Whose new embroaderie did gild and make
Rich houses tops, and leaves of whistlings Trees.
Modest morn blush'd 'cause Sol saw'r rise from Bed,
As Lieer had her cheekes with Claret spred.

48

The King descending said. “Come Envie, come,
“Here will be subject for thy pin'd snakes; hurle
“About this Brats neck evry loving worm
“In clinging foulds, till I bid them uncurle
“And break their knots, and shoot at length, and hide
“Their keen trifork't stings in his malic'd side.

49

Then with a smoothed Front he bad good Day,
And happy Omens to old Adeling,
Asking, “What noise was that chas'd sleep away,
“Sounding like cries of women travelling?
Quoth th'Hind, “I hope in good time my desire
“This night has crown'd and made me a Grandsire.

50

May thy joyes grow with's yeares, said the great Guest,
And ask'd the Swain on's hopes young pledge to look;
In swadling bands the Babe he brought forth drest,
Whom in his Royall armes the Monarch took,
So flattering Juno hugg'd poor Semele
I'th' likenesse of her Nurse old Beroe.

51

Whilst here (with Sinon-like imbrace) he hold
The tender Child, the Cottage black Cat ran
Betwixt his legs, and mew'd, whereat (hee fil'd
With deep sense of the Prodigie) waxt wan,
Knowing such was an Omen of the fall
Of great SEIANUS Fortvnes Tennis-Ball.

52

But thinking his state 'bove chance, as his sp'rit
He call'd home Man, and did himself regain,
“And ask'd his Host if he knew who that night
“Had been his Guest? A friend, I hope, (quoth th'Swain)
“Whom I desire what use you here do find,
“To measure not by 'ts own worth, but my mind.

53

“How much are we a Captive to thy Love?
“(The Prince repli'd,) which we with wealth and style
“Will guerdon. Know who did thy kindnesse prove
“Is the Imperiall Monarch of this Isle,
“Therevtvs, who thy humble Shed will raise
To greatnes crown'd with wreaths of Oak and Bayes.

54

“Nay use thy legs, (the wight die kneel and shake,)
“Since we thy Guest were when this Bird broke forth
“The shell (his first Cage) tis our will to take
“Him to our Court (the forge of States and worth)
“There (if vice checks not) will we him advance
“'Bove Envies sting, or griping reach of chance.

55

“Baptize him Tvchesphaira, but this make
“Thy Province, with maternall Love and Fear
“To foster him, our selfe will send and take
“Him to the tutele of our Royall care,
“Ere twice Times measurer, the Nimble Sun,
“Hath made the Toure of Heaven, and his race run.

56

Lest Fairies should put him among their rapes,
He mark'd him with his signet on the front,
So pliable's the Virgin wax of Babes
To take what figure you please stamp upon't.
Here's a poor Sheep for th'shambles mark'd, and hate;
Thus doth man purpose, but dispose doth Fate.

57

A Troop of Courtiers shining bright and gay,
Broad-ey'd in quest of the last-night-lost King
(By diligent scrutiny being led this way)
Here found him, mingling breath with Adeling.
He mounted (guarded so) with Jove-like port,
His course for to direct to his longing Court.

58

But making to an Elme of cleanly growth,
Whereon he (lest thereby betraid should be
To his Hosts knowledge his great state and worth)
Had hung his Crown, slifted from the chast Tree;
Which (like a Charm) 'gainst Thunder fenc'd his head,
He found one half of't withered and dead.

59

A Prodigie able to have seiz'd the sense,
And routed all powers of a mortall breast.
But he (of Passions, well as men, a Prince)
Soon gather'd up himself, and them supprest.
And since game's Heleborum, he once more,
To chase sad thoughts away, would chase the Boar.

60

The jolly Horn did chafe the blunt Beasts ears,
And with loud accents lent the Woods a voice.
He, whose tough brawny sides were proofe 'gainst spears,
Eccho'd the jangling pack with as great noise.
The game is rouz'd, the Fiend from's Cabin springs,
Pursuit like lightning puts on Eagles wings.

61

The Swine unto a Bay was soon brought, since
The last daies labour being stiffe and soar,
The Hounds beleager'd him, and the brave Prince
With's Javelins point his churlish breast did gore.
He, wounded, howles, The Huntsmen fill the skies
With's many holla's, as the brute with cries.

62

Even as a ravenous red-bearded Pack
Of Serjants, hale (with taunts) a poor Bankrouter,
Some drawing on, some thrusting at his back,
To one 'oth'City Pounds, the killing Compter:
The Dogs seiz'd so, behind some, some before,
Wounded and drag'd along the gasping Boar.

63

See of a Tyrans death an Emblem fair!
The grim Swines head (even dreadfull although kil'd)
Fixt on a Pole was carried in the air.
Thousands whose smiling mouths glad Peans fil'd,
To meet the Conquerer, came out the Citty,
His Paths with boughs they fil'd, his eares with Ditty.

Song.

1

Clubfisted Hero, no more thine owne Trump be,
To tell how you tamed th'Arcadian Boar:
Her terrible pawes so rudely did thump thee
As even yet thy broad back and bones are full sore.
Therevtvs doth claim all our praise as his due,
Alas! we have none at all left us for you.

2

Archer of Heaven, sure-handed Apollo,
Vaunt you no more of the huge Pythons slaughter,
But whistle to Cut, and still thy Cart follow,
Founder not thy Team to tickle us with laughter.
Therevtvs doth claime all our praise as his due,
Alas! we have none neither left us for you.

3

Bright Youth that wert got in a showre of Gold
By Heavens Cuckold-maker, never more warble
Thy victory over Medusa of old
That turn'd all that look'd upon her to Marble.
Therevtvs of all our Praise hath bereft us,
For any other we have no more left us.

64

Now Muse to reach the Forest put on wing,
There taste the Rose, and suck in subtlier air,
And visit Tvchesphaira, who (fond thing)
Thou shalt please better with a Plumb or Pear
Than lifts of's honours upon honours ply'd,
I'th morn a Poet's aptest, not a Child.

65

Much of Mans sand through times wide glasse does run,
Many of his freshest yeers do periods know.
A long part of his Lives short web is spun
E'r he considers what he's borne to doe.
'Fore he begins his task, or knows what't was,
Much time he had to do it in, doth passe.

66

When Phoebvs Race-nags almost twice had run
Through the round Zodiac their full careere,
His toung-strings 'gan to loose, and he begun
To lispe argologies. In a whole year
Though reason rears her Tribunall up in Man,
He cannot shew't so much as Parets can.

67

Now, now began he to be like himselfe,
With purile vigour Mars, with forinitie
Venvs, Combin'd t'adorn th'dapper Elve,
Doubtlesse two Starres which glided from the skie
Have lighted in his beamy eyes, and there
Set fixt as in their high Olympick Sphere.

68

Fair Cloris pluck't her Lillies, and bespred
Their silver wealth upon his brow so sleek,
His skin with Violets she enamelled,
And planted a fresh Rose on either cheek,
Where Nature painted them with fairer blush
Than ere they knew upon their Thorny bush.

54

Corn crowned Ceres with a golden crop
Uberiously his flourishing head hath grac'd,
Whereof each sprig is ripe and bows the top.
Courteous Pomona on his plump lips plac'd
Too early blushing Cherries, where they be
Far more inviting than upon the Tree.

55

Did you not hear his Lallation, nor see
Him trip about like Mab, you'd think he were
(As Abantiades did Andromede)
Marmoreum opus, or some Statue rare
Carv'd out of Virgin wax, or Ivory pure,
Which had it wings would seem an Angel sure.

71

Now did he find his feet and gin to move
Upon a wheele of danger, were it not
Restraind, each thing an Atropos would prove
His web to clip ere scarce to th'Rock it got,
Or fatall Axe this new sprung spray to fell,
Or Sextons hand to toule his passing Bell.

27

But from the Court his good and evill sprung,
There th'King chose out two Lords whom he much lov'd
Men of sound Fame Cicilians among,
Whose truths oft true as Truth its self had prov'd.
To these he trusted all the former story,
Adding thereto this cruell Mandatory.

73

“Hast to the Grange, there with perfumed words
“Demand the Infant in our Royall Name,
“Then dig his side with your remorcelesse swords.
“And bear to us the entrailes of the same.
“We would not slay if we could safely save,
“Yet than a Throne tis cheaper' give a grave.

74

“But seale your lips up, and be sons of night
“And silence, if you have (which I not fear)
“A chinck in you, through which this peeps to light,
“Our reputation deeply wounded were,
“You die like snuffe and stink, our selfly under
“The lash of Censure, and tongues brutish Thunder.

75

The Lords repli'd, “Fate Love us as we lock
“This secret deep from Day and peering foes,
“Firm shall our Faiths stand as the Pirean Rock.
“Be it your care to see what you impose,
“Our Duty's to obey. Bright Cicil's Sun
“You are a God, and your high will be done.

76

Just as the King Decreed the Babe to slay,
The Sea burst forth, and bellowing rag'd along,
And half the City Thindaris bore away.
“So just is Heaven t'avenge the guiltlesse wrong.
The Brine too in the haven turn'd fresh and sweet,
As once before, when Denis lost his seat.

77

The Nobles hasted to the Swaine, so free
From the loud Tumult and the roar of state,
Of him the Infant they demanded; Hee
(Making each flowing eye wet griefes floudgate)
Deliverd him fraught with a thousand blisses,
Seal'd with as many ceremonious kisses.

78

Homewards they took their way, and by and by
Their bounding steeds they checked, having reacht
A bushie Grove, pricking the lookers eye,
As if the Thornes them teares and pitty teacht,
And shak't their armes, as if they'd let them know
They meant to scratch them if they gave the blow.

79

The Lords to execute the Kings command
Emptied the sheath of the sharp threatning skive,
For which the silly babe reacht forth his hand,
Thrice touch'd and rac'd his tender skin the knife,
And thrice his smiles drew forth their teares; once more
They did begin and ended as before.

80

“Betide us Life or Death, live still (at least
“For us) they said, and so threw down the blade.
“Herein shall we obey our Soveraigne best
“That he by our hand is not guilty made.
“Who serves his Prince in what is judg'd unjust
“By his own Law, serves not his power, but Lust.

81

But 'cause the Monarch charged them to bring
His entrailes, they a young Pig slew with hast,
Resolv'd to bear his inwards to the King,
Since every Man within is like this Beast.
And some without, whom malice and strong Wine
Make churlish as a Hog, drunk as a Swine.

82

Since by a Wolfe Romes Founders suckled were,
Great Cyrvs by a Bitch rob'd of her young,
Troy's fire-brand, hot Paris, by a Beare,
Jove by a Goat the swelling hills among,
For this poor Innocent were there hopes as good
If left to the wild Nurses of the Wood.

83

In an old hollow Oke, whose top a Swarme
Of Bees (the Muses Birds) had made their hive
They left the Child, with Gold, and 'bout his arm
Bracelets of Jems whose shine with's eyes did strive.
These their Loves gave, that who so him should find
Might be, if not for Loves, for wealths sake kind.

84

The Lords then to the King did spur on hast
(Whose every thought 'bout their success did wake,)
Shaking with scorn the entrailes of the Beast,
Entring the Presence, thus they silence brake.
“Live Great Therevtvs, behold here all that
“The Wild Beasts teeth, have left of yonder brat.

85

The King with Jvy armes his Lords embrac't,
(Who had made purchase of his Love for ever)
With looks for scorn fit, into fire he cast
The Pigs (he thought the Infants) Heart and Liver,
Saying, “Now Dreames are lies, the Delphic Rood
“A trunk of Fables, at best common wood.

86

In the wild Desart Tvchesphaira laid
Whom the Bees fed with their Ambrosiall sweat,
Whilst with them, as with Birds, he (fearelesse) plaid,
Th'infected Animalls their stings forgat.
The Woods plum'd Quiristers forsook their neasts
To charme him with the wonder of their breasts.

87

A full dug'd Hind came, and her milkie teat
Gave to the lips of this poor out-cast creature,
As 'twere his mothers breast he suck'd thereat.
Reader, think not this story crosseth Nature,
But read on, and you'l say, in this the Hind
Was to her selfe, as well as to him, kind.

88

The fruit o'th' Hind (thus Nature wills) swels so
In her straight womb she ne'r could bring it forth,
If Jove did not his Queens task undergo,
And (playing th'Midwife) helpe it to the birth.
He tears the skies with thunder, which doth fright
Her into Travell, and her young to light.

89

The Fawne (well grown allready) soon forsakes
Th'pleasure o'th'teat for that of Liberty.
The Dam pain'd with much Milk, which bulks and akes
In her stiffe Dugs, oft succles willingly
Creatures of different Species to ease her,
Why might not he, as well as Beasts, then please her.

90

Evstachvs, one o'th Kings grave Counsellours,
(A Person both of Blood and Honour stockt
In a long race of vertuous Ancestours)
His mind, with deep Idea's tir'd, unlockt,
And with delight to sweeten his State eare,
O'th'Woods side gat on foot the purblind Hare.

91

The Dogs were at a fault, and flockt about
Snuffing and fawning on the Infants Tree,
Which made the Patriot (thinking they smelt out
Some willy Fox there earth'd), ride up to see,
Where, on his back, the smiling Boy he found
Sucking the Hind, and stroaking of a Hound.

92

'Cause with rich Jems and Gold so bright be shon
The Lord of Parentage right Noble deem'd him,
And bore him thence; Lacking himself a Son,
He fostered, and as his own esteem'd him.
Who prov'd (as he of Time had got the start)
The Early Miracle of Armes and Art.

93

But here the Reader is to be advis'd,
That when this Youth found in the Forest was,
Evstachvs (Ignorant he was baptiz'd
Before he found him) nam'd him Ulorvs,
The which name he must bear, till my Muse can
I'th' Songs close, call him Tvchesphair agen.

94

Therevtvs when bald time upon his wing
Had stoln his fiftieth Yeer for a Jub'le
Revoked exiles from pale wandering,
Pardon'd State Cankers and set Captives free,
And sham'd Darivs in a solemne Feast,
To which each man of name was call'd a Guest.

95

Tilting the Day, masquing the Night chac't thence,
Perfumes did raise sweet Mists in every room
To keep the air in awe of the nice sense,
Attalick garments cloath'd each swaggering Groom,
Rich Tyrian Arras evry Wall, hung round
With meddalls in old Gaule or Carthage found.

96

Scorning (there ord'nary) Corinthian Plate
Men quaft in Stone at dearer prices sold,
At Jvory tables, or wood of higher rate
They eat, on quilted Beds of Silk and Gold.
Their wanton tasts had onely in request
Newest and rarest things, though not the best.

97

The feather'd River Phasis could not yeeld
Them Fowle enow, nor Oysters Lucrine Lake,
They spring each Thicket, Fowle each bush and Field,
All seas they draw, all Ponds in nets they take,
Circes too (Natures Larder) do they seek
To please the witty gluttony of a week.

98

Lachrymæ Christi flow'd down, and the blood
Of Tuscan Grapes swel'd high each joviall mind.
Had Nature lost her Species, air her brood,
Water her spawn, here might they seek, and find.
Apitivs a Carthusian was to these,
And Æsope's Platter a poor Scholars messe.

99

The Pallace crackt with weight of thronging Guests
As Theaters when som fine sock is on,
Evstachvs there was seen among the rest,
And with him Vlorvs, his reputed Son.
Who now wrot man, and full of hopes most high,
Assum'd the vesture of virility.

100

In Comvs's heat and Pride the glorious King
Viewing the young man with a setled eye,
Through his loose hair the print of his seal Ring
Spi'd on his front; this dash't his jollity.
This marke, a mole, his Phisnomy assur'd him
'Twas he 'gainst whom he thought death had secur'd him.

101

His mirths spred wings were clipt, the pale desire
Of revenge seiz'd him, with hot fury stockt,
But that which swell'd his floud of Passion higher,
Was, that the Lords by whom he was so mockt,
Full of grand Honours, wounds, and daies, were dead,
And with wet Elegies their Hearses spread.

102

Rufling his brow, biting his lip he sat
Waking all forces of his phantasie
To guide his wrath: being observ'd, this fit
He call'd a spice of an old Lethargie.
Then rallying his wiser thoughts, he spake thus
Unto the good (thats more than great) Evstachvs;

103

“How happy are you in a Son (my Lord)
“So rich in Natures store and Arts best things;
“Only you ought not so great wealth to hoard,
“Jems shine not in the Quarry, but in Rings.
“Leave him with us at Court, so shall he seem
“Engloried by the Place, the Place by him.

104

Evstachvs; covetous of so good hap
Gave to the King his Vlorvs much lov'd:
Who, as if he upon some Courtly lap
Had alwaies slept a formall Courtling prov'd.
His mouth the mint of complement, and he
The very Tyrant in bare courtesie.

105

His phrase, and gests were followed and allow'd,
So full of Man his evry Act was showne.
And (which was chiefe) not borrowed it shew'd,
But all he did became him as his own,
And seem'd as proper, and as naturall
As breath with life, or light with radient Sol.

106

Which is the soul of Courtship, he became
The Marigold of every Ladies shine,
Teaching each beauty t'give and take a flame,
Approaching it in its own height and Line.
All Ladies with one Luer caught are not,
No more than all Birds are with one bait got.

107

The proud he tickeled with praise of theirs,
Dispraise of others Beauties, modes, and dresses.
The witty with Romants he pleas'd and verse,
Th'amourous with Love Legends mixt with kisses.
And flourishing still in the Spring o'th' Fashion,
He got a credit beyond admiration.

108

But now, Heaven moved by the late excesse,
Or by Therevtvs Tyrannous intent,
Hot painted feavours clad in spotted dresse
(Plagues Harbingers) 'mong the Sicilians sent,
And (no auspicious Omen) in each field
Sholes of hoars Ravens unwonted musters held.

109

Then envious Stars shot poyson from their Sphere,
Or Earth from the dark Dungeon belch't it forth,
Or angry winds did puffe it through the aire.
That th'Isle one Pesthouse made, one grave the Earth.
O Dismall Argument! black subject! where
All comma's sighs should be! each point a Tear!

110

The sweeping Plague's begun; some fall, all fear,
As when i'th' Night fires are discovered.
Fates (as if vext they meant to blunt their sheares)
Warps by whole hanfulls cut, not threed by threed.
Mortall Abaddon with keen sickle hovers,
Flesh like Grasse mowing, making few Passeovers.

111

Think but how fast at evry puffe of wind
From Trees the mellow leaves in Autume glide,
I'th' steps of Cattell some interment find
Some on the wings of wanton briefes ride:
So in this busie Terme of Death folk dy'd
Faster than those alive could graves provide.

112

No Songs, but Dirges, fill'd the infected air,
No Musick but the Bells sad Knells is heard.
Pebles which erst much peoples feet did wear
And pollish, now, with grasse oregrown, Churchyard
Rather than street seem; along which there wave
Black Beers, that strive wch first should reach the grave.

113

Churchyards so delv'd and harrow'd are, none now
As type of Resurrection Grasse affords
This death (a Schismatick) will not allow
Of Ceremony, Men on slings and boards
Uncovered are posted to the grave,
Which, although free Land, none may single have.

114

That best of Nature, Neighberhood, was gon,
With hateles treason, friends by friends breath dy'd.
They're safest who like salvage live alone,
And although debtlesse, from this Serjant hide.
No help is left but all helpe to forgo,
To joyn their forces were t'augment their foe.

115

For Deaths use seized are all naked streets,
Which who so dares adventure to passe by,
A presse of thronged Funeralls he meets,
And People that their lofty Mansions fly.
Daring to dying sheds their lives commit,
Which each blast shakes into a Palsie fit.

116

Each carkase of a Grange hath Guests, some hide
In vacant Windmills, some in tented Boat
On watry floores, rock'd by the tumbling tide
With their sick houshould at dead Anchor flote.
Yea who no tilt could hope but open skies
Dare home forsake, so Sicil Sicil flies.

117

Palermo differ'd from Palermo so
As doth a Tree which erst did blow and bear,
But naked in December stands, like to
A Skelleton, ratling its bones all bare.
Such solitude as this i'th' waxen Town
Appeares when th'winged hony Host is flown.

118

As prudent mice fromsfalling roofes make hast,
And thence to sounder walls for shelter flee:
So from sick Sicilie her brood flock't fast
To neighbouring Isles, as Cæne and Strongile,
Now with like luck as when two Suns appeare
'tk'clouded skie, two Sicilies there were.

119

Therevtvs selfe from's royall place retir'd
To's Tusculanium in the Countrey,
Not built to envious show but health desir'd,
And to th'adjacent Islles Æoliæ,
(Where Æolus his Throne of old was seen)
He sent his onely Daughter and great Queen.

120

The Queen Hymetta, whose each part a story
Of Beauty was, 'bove wonder far renown'd,
Of her fair fex she the faire Crown and Glory,
Who yet all these straines in her vertues drown'd.
But her chiefe Elogie (to veile all other)
Is this, she was the rare Rosella's Mother.

121

Sosella, without whom the Court was dark,
Fresh morn her handmaid was, and Roses strew
About Loves Hemisphere; each heavenly spark
Wheg she arose, ecclipz'd, and sad withdrew
For shame to be out-shin'd by her bright eyes,
Who, more than they the Earth, did gild the skies.

122

Old Jvno, seeing a new let her plumes fall,
The Graces wondred at themselves to see
They'd fram'd a Grace that far surpast them all,
And had exhausted quite their Treasury
To shame themselves by one, on whose each part
Fame might spend all her voice, Verse all her Art.

123

She was of Goddesses a Rapsodie,
Boasting Avrora's rosie fingers small,
Satvrnia's stately front, Pallas grey eye,
Venvs her dimpled chin, and Beauties All.
Of Ceres Daughter the life-wasting wast,
And Gorgons curled hair, before it hist.

124

She was the onely Loadstone of all Eyes,
She was the onely Touchstone of all Hearts,
The Whetstone of all braines and Phantasies,
Making each Freshman Master in Loves Arts.
She chew'd with Studs of Pearle, with Rubies kist,
She look'd with diamonds rescuing Day from Mist.

125

This Saint and Angell both did harbour give
To as much winning beauty as could die,
And to more heavenly vertues than doe live,
Which in her blest Urne I'l let quiet lie,
Lest all to whom such Miracles are told,
Or turne Idolaters, or think her old.

126

A Venvs and Diana mixt in one
She was, whose wit was even in greenest yeers
Flowing as Nectar, ripe as Autumn showne,
And crown'd with graces envy'd by white haires:
Which who can tell? and yet who cannot tell?
Well may I praise her, but not praise her well.

127

To do it meanely were no lesse disgrace,
Than a course garment to a Princely Dame,
Or homely painting to a lovely face,
Or a brasse setting to a precious Gemme.
Think not weak Muse by thy low Song to raise her
Tis praise enough that none enough can praise her.

128

Here of this wonder of nice Natures sweat
Taking my Leave, I am for Sicilie
Imbark'd, from whence Phoebvs withdrew his heat
And fled, as he too fear'd the Malady.
Winter the Isle shut up in icie bars
As close as sicknesse did the Islanders.

129

With the years heat (Plagues nurse) the Plague outwore,
The mortall Angell sheath'd his Sword, the street
Put off its mossie mantle, and once more
Began a new acquaintance with mens feet.
Still Piles are built and blaze, still Bells loud call,
But for devotion more than Buriall.

130

All aske what frends Heavens Besom swept away,
And who is left. All gape for fresher air,
And like Stags snuffing 'bout the Fields they stray;
So Fishes stifled with long ice repair
Unto the hole, when as the Leatherine Hine
With Axes break the frost to water kine.

131

Now men with health (as Swallowes with the Spring)
Again to their dear Mothers Bosome run,
Once more Palermo the desired King
Blest with his Presence, shewing like the Sun
Scattering th'Egyptians long loath'd Night away,
Or out black Chaos striking Christall Day.

132

He seeing admired Vlorvs become
The tenth Sphere of the Court, drawing all after him,
And daily triumphing ore the Hearts of some:
Griev'd that the fatall Angell spar'd do slaughter him,
He sate in Councell with his thoughts, at strife
How to remove his fear, the youngmans life.

133

His busie braine was like an Howerglasse,
Wherein Imaginations like sands ran
Filling up hasty time, but then (Alas!)
Were turn'd and turn'd and ended as began,
So that he knew not what to stay upon,
And lesse to Crown with execution.

134

To thrust him out of life sans processe, were
To blot himselfe out of the Rolls of Fame,
To send him to the wars, in hope that there
Quick death might find him, were t'augment his Fame.
A Hero lockt in brasse will force all breath
To chant his Trophees brave, or braver Death.

135

Taking the wisest counsell of his brain,
At last Invention prompted a course to him
For which he hug'd his wit and cruel veine,
And this was mask'd in friendship to undo him.
Malice in Love disguiz'd was in all time
Most safe and common held, yet is't a crime.

136

So poysonous Snakes in Roses ly in wait,
And lurke in honny-dropping Grasse to sting.
So the Hyenna murders by deceit.
So from the Rocks th'alluring Syrens sing,
And call down the high notes of the sweet Spherse
Before they prey, to fill the wretches eares.

137

The Senat of his thoughts decreed to send
The Young Man to the Queen t'Æoliæ
With secret Letters; feigning as a Friend
The honouring of him with the Embassie,
Which was, that as soon as he should await her
She privily execute him for a Traytor.

138

To paper he this Mandate did commit,
And with his Seal enjoyn'd it secrecy.
Then charg'd his Favorit Ulorvs with it
Unto his Queen on hasts spred wings to flie.
From David so, to Joab once before
Uriah his one fatall sentence bore.

139

The Favourite (proud of the employment) rode
Attended with no long yet trusty train
To the next Port, his vent'rous foot there trod
Upon the rude throat of the scalding Main.
Favonivs and Thetis mixt in one
To blesse him with kind Transfretation.

140

About the Noon of Night he reach't the shore,
And took up's quarters in a common Inne,
Where (partly, 'cause for manners sake, before
The Sun had, he would not salute the Queen.
Partly to compose his Sea shuffled head)
He made his cloaths poor to make rich his Bed.

141

One of his Traine (having Athenian ears
Itching for news) much longing to descry
His Lords quick message, when the band of cares
Soft sleep had seiz'd him and his company,
He crept into his Chamber in the dark,
And stole his Packet thence, whilst none did mark.

142

Being no Novice in that knavish trick
Of ripping Seales, and closing them again,
(A Burglary baser than locks to pick;
For that robs but our coffers, this our braine,)
Not dar'd by's Kings dumb face, he opened
Nicely his Royall Packet, and thus read.

T. R. ad H. R.

Therevtvs to his Queen Hymetta dear
Sends the same health which he enjoyeth here.
Rebecca's Twins, love, hatred, this scroule beares,
The first is thine, the last this Messengers,
Whom we have thus employ'd, that we migh have
By this unsmelt means, Safety, he a Grave.

This Ulorvs is th'Ague of our Reigne,
He shakes it, as Windes stoll'n into Earths veine
Doe our dull staggering Mother. He's the ill
Conscience o'th' State, that ne'r lets it be still.
'Twas in our thoughts by just help of our Lawes
That this effect might Cease, to seize the cause.
But being such a Minion of the rude
Beast with so many heads, the Multitude;
We judg'd him not here, in their sights, to die,
Lest they mistake Justice for Tyranny
In us, and in themselves Rebellion
For Pitty; Lest our Bark of State split on
These Rocks, We've sent him to your Court, that there
His Death may be close as his Treasons here.
If of his Fate you can all eyes prevent
Wee'l father it upon some accident.
How e'r do't; if you can't stop Fames wild breath
Wee'l draw up's Posthume Processe after's Death.

Grieve not to nip this young weed in the bloom,
A young Wolfes Death to soon can never come.
Yet were it cruell, tis Fate is harsh not wee,
Selfe preservation warrants Crueltie.

143

“Alas! (Quoth th'Servant) whilst my Lord aimes at
“The honour of being but a Royall Post,
“His selfe is lost. So patient Chymists get
“But Smoke, Dust, Hope, for all their reall cost.
“So th'Dog that on the waters face did catch
“At th'shaddow of his Morsell, lost the flesh.

144

“Poor Mercvry, whose being so's thy Death!
“Losing true Treasure for an empty name,
“Thy selfe for Honour, Yet but breath for breath,
“The breath of Life for the fond breath of Fame!
“Ah! how much more than pitty tis to fell
“A blooming Spray that sprouts so straight and well!

145

“Brood with me Hermes, help this Plot to hatch,
“That this Anti-Ixion whose strift is
“To grasp but a Cloud, airy Fame, may catch
“A reall Jvno, or a fairier piece,
“What though he nor rewards nor knows my pain?
“In vertuous Acts the very doing's gain.

146

“Or tis a crime or none t'have op'd this Letter.
“If none, I've pleas'd my selfe, not wrong'd the King.
“If tis a Sin, to purge it no way's better
“Than good out of intended evill to bring.
This said, he took a blank, and altering the
Mind of the Monarchs Letter thus wrot he.

The Kings Letter changed.

Therevtvs to his Queen Hymetta dear,
Sends the same health which he enjoyeth here.
This paper Barke a freight of Love doth bear
To be shar'd 'twixt thee and this Messenger,
Whom we have made so, that he may inherit
(To all our joyes) the meed of his high merit.
This Ulorvs, so high fam'd, and so allow'd
(Of whom our Court, and Natures selfe is proud;
To whom both Pallas arts alike are shear'd,
A sage Philosopher without a beard.
Who, if his mind as his green yeers increase,
His Age will alwaies than himself be lesse.)
We've sent t'attend you, that you may behold
The truth that unbeliev'd Report hath told
Though too too nigardly of his great worth.
To honour vertue is to set it forth.
We will you treat him then with every rare
Device that Love and Honour can prepare.
Since our People, gilding each act of his
With liking, make it better than it is,
Since they've given up themselves unto him, so
As they've a Law within themselves to doe
His Mandats binding, and that Law is Love
Which Princes as their strongest fort approve.
Since Fate denies us a Male birth to be
The Atlas of our Realme and Family,
(But had we Ægiptvs's number, none could be
Worthier such honour than this Mercvrie)
Therefore I'th' Carnavall (midst mirth and Laughter)
We will you marry him to our only Daughter.

Muse not we speak of Consummation, ere
Ther's due approaches made; for young and fair
Have made acquaintances in Nature, so
When their eyes meet they have the lesse to do.

SICILIE.

T. Rex.

147

Now wrapt he up this Scroule so counterfaite
In the same fashion as the King had his,
Then ript (with curious heed) the seale from that,
And with a Wafer fixt it (whole) to this.
Next to the Chamber (on fears socks) he crept,
And left it there, whilst still his Master slept.

148

Soon as the early Lark even tir'd with rest,
From his moist Cabinet sprung up on high,
Waking the morning, from whose dewy breast
Heavens wandring Knight rose to his errantry,
Th'Embassadour don'd rich embroideries pride,
And to the Court his paces did divide.

149

Whilst there he waited in a Gallery.
Hung round with Titians and rare Hylliards hands,
The Queen stept in, clad in such Majesty
As the Great Goddesse that ties Nuptiall Bands
Used, when she did contend on Ida's plain,
From Beauties Queen Beauties bright prize to gaine.

150

Low on his knee he kist her Royall Hand,
Then fil'd it with the Packet, (by happy blisse
For him (without him) from its first self chang'd)
Which read, she gave once more her hand to kisse.
And putting on her best looks to delight him,
She to a Royall banquet did invite him.

151

Now they descended to the Pallace Hall,
Where hundred objects claim'd his doubtful eye,
Which though the least alone had fil'd it all,
Was famished amidst variety.
Now this he tasts, then that he glances on,
Diversity confounds election.

152

But gather up thy sense and fortifie,
Weaknesse in fractures, strength in union lies.
Now youth the valour of thine Opticks try,
Here, here an object comes that's worth all eyes.
But (as who stares at Sol finds night at noon)
She having such bright ones make all else have none.

153

Rosella the rare Princesse (in quaint dressing
Of Sea green Tabie, whose wat'ring seem'd apace
Like Waves to move with her, the Lace expressing
Silver Rocks) enter'd, with such winning grace
As Cypria wore, when of Troys royall Swain
She (worthily) did Beauties prize obtain.

154

Her Hair, alas! too cold a word! Her Beames
O'r-shaddowing her Robe with loose command
Out-shin'd his rayes that gild the tottering streames.
Her bared Breasts appear'd Loves Scylla and
Charibdis, betwixt whom no eye might steer
But must (perforce) becom a Prey to her.

155

Her Stomacher was cloath of Gold vail'd ore
With subtle Tiffana, to shew the Land,
Strew'd with such Margarites as inrich the shore,
And Spangles, crookt, like shells that paint the sand.
The gum'd Silk's whistling must be understood,
Vvltvrnvs milder breath curling the floud.

156

The Youth made haste his trembling knee to bend
(As dazled Pilgrims 'fore some glorious shrine)
With devout feare he kist her melting hand
(As they doe Reliques, or some Rag divine)
Now rights he out his knee, but still doth look
Like to an Aguish Asp that's Planet strook.

157

She also felt a civill war in her
Distracted thoughts, all forts wild Passion seiz'd.
Love Generall, quarter'd in her eyes while ere
(Making her browes bowes to shoot all that gaz'd)
From those Frontiers, unto her Heart retir'd,
Where finding Reason possest, the Fort he fir'd.

158

Reason his blinde foe with Cowardize then taunteth
Saying Noblest Conquerers do wrecks avoid.
He answers, if a Heart Rosella wanteth,
I'l give her Ulorvs his to be enjoy'd,
Yet that must flame first, for like Gold we prove
Hearts must be fin'd and melted ere they love.

159

If their Hearts, Gentle Tyrant (Reason reply'd)
Smell sweetest in the flames, like Cassia,
If they (like Martyrs, though their sect divide)
Will accord best in their sweet misery,
Let us love too, and blow the coal together,
Good reason, they, young and fair, should love each other.

160

Both did desire, both were desir'd, though neither
Knew eithers wish; yet saw they whence their griefe
Sprung, even from whence they must expect their cure,
Yet fear'd, who would kill would denie Reliefe.
Love mixt so with them by his mistick Arts
As he soon had for Trophies both their Hearts.

161

The Heart-rob'd Youth resolved, by his Tongue
His Hearts Atturny, his sute to commence,
But was a drawing up the charge so long
New wounds came thick, and th'formers griefe chac'd thence.
Yet when to make the motion he'd assay
His words were crusht to sighs, and all was Ah!

162

She eccho'd him, thinking each sigh did bring
Loves summons, she, by hers, her yeelding sent,
Whereat the feather'd Wag did Io sing
And in her fresh cheeks pitcht his crimson Tent,
Displaying his blush-colour'd Ensigns there,
Shewing his Almighty self as Conquerer.

163

The Tables furnisht were as they'd invite
A bedrid stomach that surcharged lies
With potions to a freshmans appetite.
But Ulorvs best dish was Rosella's eyes.
As Lovers use when their mawes call to eat,
He cut his fingers in the stead of meat.

164

And with much gazing on (Heavens map) her face
He hungry rose, (in this too like a Lover.)
His words he left halfe spoke, or did misplace,
Or (Lover like still) he spake them twice over.
Questions were put, but when he would reply
His answers (Lover like) were quite awry.

165

The joyous Queen with smiling cheer did see
The wounding friends shoot their hearts each at other
Through their eyes, hoping evry look would be
A new dart, to continue them together;
She strait commands a Masque, then doth invite
Them to grace the short bravery of the night.

166

The nimble Masquers danc't as movingly
As Joves nine Twins on the Pierian Lawnes,
Or Thebes Stones a Amphion's melody,
Or brisk Pan and his Herd of light heel'd Fawnes.
But how could their feets freedom please this pair
Whose hearts lay tangled in each others hair?

167

Such melody courted their ears to hark
As th'orbes harmonious journey make, which they
No more regarded than the child doth marke
His lesson, when he hath got leave to play:
For how could Orphevs Raptures take those eares
Whose notes were onely sighs, their closes teares.

168

Now the ones eyes laid themselves open wide
To receive all the darts the other threw,
Then were they close with admiration tied
To keep the wealth they had already drew,
Or cast their Lids as curtaines ore the rare
Image of Beauty each look painted there.

169

Affection encreas'd their looking, and
Their looks augmented their affections,
Their eyes (like children 'fore whom sweet-meats stand)
Eager, but fearfull of their Guardians.
When one did sigh, as if that sigh were to
Be waited on, the other sigh'd also.

170

The Scene is clos'd up, the Soule mingling-pair
(Whose fancies travell'd undelivered
With throes of feare desier and despaire)
More overcast with thought than sleep, were led
To severall Lodgings, there they vent their breasts
With sighs and wishes, the rest retir'd to rest.

171

When Sol the Captain of the Planets bright
Came arm'd in burnisht Tinsell to Heavens Guard,
To relieve the winking Centinels of Night,
And give them leave to rest whilst he would ward;
The Princesse, seeing sleep was banisht fro
Her weary Bed, she left it empty too.

172

So day broke out of Chaos hurling Night
Unto the Center. So the Skie-wanderer
Unfetters from the Armes of Amphitrite.
So Roses break forth and perfume the air.
Only the first, the second, the last, be
Not halfe so cleer, so bright, so sweet, as she.

173

Now stood shee like the beautious Aphrodite
New risen from her frothy Mothers Bed,
Her purer smock lookt much like that pure white
Foam that the Goddesse limbs yet all bespred.
Her Bed (like bodies when their soules are flown)
Turn'd pale and cold for griefe that she was gon.

175

A mantle of green Velvet (wrought to wonder)
Her maidens o'r her curious limbes did cast,
It over her left shoulder went, and under
Her right Arm; on her breast it was made fast
With claspes of radient Diamons, now as
A Dazie shew'd she, in a field of grasse.

176

Now th'Queen her Mother came, and did impart
To her the message from the King was brought.
This somewhat lightened her heavy heart,
To think what she so wisht her Father sought.
But then her joyes did flag again, through fear
Lest he she so lov'd, too no thought for her.

177

By this the climbing Sun with warmth doth thaw
And tender make the of-late crusty Earth,
Each naked twig blood from the root doth draw
To swell the branch, and give a lively Birth
To the dead leaves, now fill'd again within
With plump juice, and without painted with green.

178

The pretty firstlings of the infant year
Now make their mother smile, and their gay heads
(Which late in icy graves did dead appear)
Advance afresh above their easie Beds,
Like Types o'th'Resurrection, and shew
Like weeping Virgins all be pearl'd with dew.

178

The Groves shrill Quiristers whose frozen throats
Late wanted motion and male heat to strain
Their little Organs, now have found their notes.
Now Philomela's tongue is grown again,
She scrues her sprightly Seraphins voyce up high,
To teach men Art from Natures Melody.

179

Now all things else smile with the forward Spring,
No Vine so young now feares the blasting stormes
That foul-mouth'd Auster carries on his wing,
Or the South-west wind hurries in his armes.
No rugged Boreas blows, but Zephyr's calm
Sweep flowry Gardens, and the air embalme.

180

So smil'd the daies from Chaos first when sprung,
As now, then did the loughing Oxe repair
Not to warm stalls, but open Fields; among
The Woods herds dwelt, and chattering Birds the air
Fill'd with their Song; then Natures frame t'uphold
Heaven temper'd this sweet mean, nor hot, nor cold.

181

This serene season seemed to beseech
The sweet Rosella (Earths and Heavens Pride)
Net only one poor chamber to enrich
And so impoverish ev'ry place beside,
But to walk forth and with her smiles to bring
An early Summer on the forward Spring.

182

The Grasse did court her soft tread, and then wept
For Griefe that she so soon off it was gon,
And perfum'd teares upon her small foot left.
The Flowers that did require no other Sun
As she approacht did start from their soft Beds,
And for a sight of Her, steal out their Heads.

183

Here in an odorous Bower rich in shade
She took a seat, whereon a Primrose grew.
“Flora's first Daughter! Ah! (she sighing, said)
“How like me in my loving state art thou!
“Blubber'd with dew thou standst, and in mine eares
“To whisper seem'st, Loves sweets are washt with teares.

184

“How yellow green and sick thy leaves appear!
“Like ripening Girles that junket on Loam walls,
“Or Feast on chalk and coals; to Earth how neer
“Thy weak stalk bends, yet neither breaks nor falls.
“These to the nimble fancy do discover
“The doubts and fear-shaken hopes are in a Lover.

185

Whilst here she sate one the embroidered ground
Musing on her new Love, her busie head
With thoughts was crowded. Now reason would have found
No cause to Love, because no hope to speed,
Then Love crost that; when from a Grot hard by
Her shady couch, she heard this melody.

Song.

1

Of all dread Monarchs falls, I wonder lest
At thine Cyrvs of Persia.
The Son may fall, and's Plumes adorn thy crest,
But thou must be the Mothers prey.
With men to fight that Sex hath ods
That triumphs both o'r Men and Gods.

2

In Peace, their arrowes slay, yet draw no blood,
In war, they win when lofe the Day.
Though Captives, on their Conqu'rers necks they tread,
And the fierce Victor make their prey.
Strong Sex! who from your chaine is free,
That though he foyles ye, bound must be?

186

The Eccho of the Grot much added to
The voyce and words, but for this cause it was
Sweet musick in Rosella's eare, she knew
By th'Tone it came from her dear Ulorvs,
Whom thus (known though unseen) in his own strain
She answered, and he repli'd again.

Rosella.
No, no, the Yoak must ever gall our necks
Our harsh Fates made us to obey.
In childhood we observe our Parents becks,
Then men doe steale our hearts away.
Wretched as weak our Sex is grown
Whose Wills and Hearts are ne'r our own,

Vlorus.
How wretched's he whose fortune lower lies
Than his Love will bow unto't?
Joves royall Bird preys not on silly Flies,
Shrubs wither at the Cedars root.
Fond Icarvs, rather then die tame
With secret griefe than open shame.

Rosella.
How fond is he his sword away will throw
Ere victory to his foe flies!
The highest Sun doth daign to shine below,
Palmes supprest doth higher rise.
Then live, or let thy fall be fair
By brave attempts, not base Despaire.

187

When her sweet Grace this word of comfort gave
To her sad Servant, now so nigh Despair,
She, modest, blusht, he smil'd, and seem'd to have
New sp'rit infus'd to him by her kind air.
Resolv'd at last his doubtfull prize to try,
And by her favour live, or frowning die.

188

She his approaches met as the coole stream
Doth bathing Virgins, when they first uncase
And come nigh, the coy Nymph to stop them seem,
But enter'd, she their limbs kisse and embrace.
Now nothings wanting but the Churches rites
To fill with joy their daies, with sport their nights.

189

Th'Youth to the foresaid Bower would oft resort
To kisse the leaves his Mistris sate among.
There one day musing of his future sport
He in an extasie this Rapture sung.
Think not this Humors madnesse, wise men say
All great wits have of Madnesse some allay.

A Rapture.

1

Come (Fairest) through the fleeting skie
Lets cut a way with nimble pace,
On Cvpids pointed wings lets flie
To Paradise, which is my place
Where I may banquet on thy face.

2

Hark! the Springs Quiristers conspire
With aires might make an Hermit dote
T'invite us to their leavy Quire,
And Philomela's well-strung throat
Is tun'd with an alluring note.

3

The flowrie Floore's embelished
With Cloris's painted Tapsterie,
By Nymphs at Loves command here spred,
Who meant that these should be for thee
A downy Bed, and thou for me.

4

No spies shall lurk here to reveale
To eares that itch with jealousie
The houres of Pleasure we two steale:
Great Jove knew no such Liberty
When he imbrac'd bright Danae.

5

Being set, lets sport a while (my Deare)
I will look Babies in thine eye,
Which shall i'th'shade make sun-shine cleer,
And Love knots in thy locks I'l tie
Wherein my Heart doth fetter'd lie.

6

I'l turne Loves Bee, and feast a while
On either Rose which kindly do
Unite in thy fair cheek, whose smile
Might make a Cynick love thee too,
And tempt him from his Tub to woo.

7

I will bedew with fervent kisses
The fresh Adonis on thy lip
That balmy Theater of blisses,
Chorus of kisses there shall skip
And in unnumbred Galliards trip.

8

The Violets of thy veines I'l tast
That in blew archt Meanders lay.
Thence to the vale of Lillies hast
In whose smooth allyes I will stray,
And 'mong their Mazes lose my way.

9

Next downwards I'l my way devoure,
To Loves sweet-bramble bush I'l fly,
And cull from evry spicy flower
Fresh bags of hony, till that I
Have swell'd therwith my laden thigh.

10

Then to thy hive my Load of Balme
I'l bring, where (as in thought before)
Halfe smothered in a sweaty Qualme,
I will unlade my plenteous store,
And roam about thy fields for more.

190

Now 'gan their Hymeneal's to approach,
The time's set. Titan, oft the Youth did say
Oftner the Maid, Lash on thy lazy Coach:
How thick thy cri'd, kind Phosphorvs bring the day.
It came at last (though their desires thought late,)
Then these Doves coupled, in this Masque-like State.

191

Bright Juga Jvno's Orgies are begun,
Above her Altar in a Saphire Cloud
Her airy Majesty displaid her Throne,
Supported by two Peacocks gay and proud.
The charming spirits of the air did beat
Their sacred concords 'bout her Starry seat,

192

With a white Diadem her brow was crown'd
From whence a swelling veile descended, flying,
Whose upper end a silken Fascia boun'd
Of severall hues, the many dies implying
The various mutations of the skie,
Of causing these she having th'faculty.

193

The wealthiest Gems in Neptvnes cabinet
Shon on her Fascia, in the top high
With Roses blooming as her cheek, and set
With Pestan Lillies, which her milk did die
That from her brest dropt, when Jove thence did pluck
Her Privignus, laid there by stealth to suck.

194

A Royall Scepter in her right hand shon,
Her left a Timbrell held; her golden feet
A Lyons shaggie hide trampled upon.
Thus in her Argive Temple did she set,
As 't'were insulting o'r her Lords two scapes,
The Monster-Master, and the God of Grapes.

195

The Region of Fier in an even
Circle was ever whirling 'bove her seen:
Jove standing in the top, (figuring the Heaven)
Brandishing flaming Bolts as if he'd been
To charge the Gyant Host. Iris below
Her Saphrie Throne, bent her enammel'd Bow.

196

Eight Ladies 'bout her Altar measur'd paces,
Enstil'd her Powers or her faculties,
Veil'd, lest all mortals with their dazling graces
Should (as th'armed Boy did) lose their eyes.
All these some Surname bore given properly
To Jvno, for some nuptiall mystery.

197

The first was Cvris, nam'd from th'Sabine Sphere
That Hast a Coelibaris, that had stuck
In the slain Gladiator: the Brides hair
With this she did divide, and keem and deck,
To tell her, as in him that fast did 'bide,
So close must she unto her male by ty'd.

198

Or it portended valiant men to come
Out of her loynes, or else this badg of sway
Denoted her subjection to her Groom:
Or rather it might be in memory
Of their first Marriages, by force contracted
With them that came but to see Plaies, yet acted.

199

Next Unxia with her wollen Fillets stood
The Posts and Columnes of th'House t'adorn,
And to annoint with hollow'd Oyles approv'd
And fat of Wolves and Beares mixt in a Horn
E'r the Bride enters: to expell thereby
All frights and evills from the Family.

200

The third was Jvga (that soul-mingling grace)
In silken Yoak the loving Pair that bind
Ready to Vnion to sacrifice
Two hearts melted and mixt into one mind.
Thus as two Maids of different sex made one
And to that state restor'd that first was known.

201

The fourth takes care that they remaine so still,
Gamelia, that behind the Altar throws
The Gall: no strife is left, no stubborn will,
But Peace and Love and Faith betwixt them growes.
Such was the golden Chain let down from Heaven
Of Linkes consisting thus well joyn'd and even.

202

The fift and sixt were Iterdvca, and
Her sister Domidvca, these are they
That were the Brides fair footsteps to attend
When to her Spouses house she took her way.
The seventh was Cinxia, that defends the Maid
Quit of her Zone, whilst in that state she staid.

203

The last was Telia, she that crowneth all,
That brings the gratefull hower, and excites
Lovers to reap the fruit of their long thrall,
Embracements, kisses, and those short delights
And melting toyes chast Love allowes; the same
That gives Perfection, and a womans name.

204

The Altar drest, first to it did approach
The Quinque Cerei attir'd in white.
These were five Pages, bearing each a Torch
Of Virgin Wax; their number, in the rites
Imply'd Perfection, seeing five is
The number whence sweet Union claimes her Blisse.

205

The Bridgroome, behind these, with Myrtle crown'd
Walk'd (like Loves Champion ready for the Lists)
With longing looks. His hair was short and bound
With party-colour'd Ribbands and Gold twists.
Her garments hues the whitest Lillies stain'd,
And ruddy'st Roses that e'r Xevxis feign'd.

206

In Saffron-colour'd robes next Hymen came,
His under vestures white, his Socks were Gold,
His head with Roses crown'd and Marjoram:
A Torch of Pine Tree his right hand did hold,
His left a blushing veile, to signifie
The bedded Virgins bashfull modesty,

207

Then came Camillus, a young youth in white,
Bearing a Torch of white and blooming Thorn,
To fright all malice with the ominous light,
In sign too of Increase this Tead was born.
Next came a Rock and Spindle, nothing good
These shew, gives check unto the highest bloud.

208

'Twixt them the Lovely Bride was led; Her Head
A Rosse Crown had like a Turret made,
Her loosly flowing hair with grey was shed
To shew she enter'd to a Matrons state.
Wherfore a Weathers Snowie fleece was worn
At her back, that she might not labour scorn.

209

Her robe so white, was nothing else durst vie
With it, but her pure skin. Bout her small wast
In many many folds and contrary
Circles her Virgin Zone of Wool was cast,
Yet met in one Herculean, that binds,
To intimate, so should all married minds.

210

With fire and water th'Auspices came next,
To shew, that as each Birth is helpt to life
By female moisture with male Heat well mixt:
So for their likenesse sake joyn Man and Wife.
Last, the Musicians came, with Rosebuds crown'd,
Strayning their Organs high, this air to sound.

Song.

Virgins Imprison your liberall flowing hair
In Ribbands white:
Bright Vnions Altar, and her rites prepare,
Her cleer Pines light
And Io sing, then dew your eyes
'Cause you are not the Sacrifice.

211

Now leave yee Jvno's Orgies to begin
The Gods whose nights outshines his daies so far.
Th'Idalian Star that so long wisht hath been
Now gives Alarum to the peacefull War.
And chides you for dalaying rites behind
That have, though lesse of state, yet more of kind.

212

See! Mirtles trim your way. See! Roses there
Flow in whole showers, and Violets seem to grow
I'th' Chamber, as if Venvs Mead it were,
Where you shall revell in Loves Sphere, and know
Nor fear, nor change; exalted far above
Even hope, and th'Wheel that spins the fates of Love.

213

The Zones strong knots the Gallant has unti'd,
And's ready other pretty difficulties
T'encounter. Matrons sage have plac'd his Bride,
Whilst he then out his cloathes like lightning flies
And shoots himself into her Bosome, notes
Wee'l borrow of the Spheres to tune these votes.

Epithalamium.

To Bed, Yee two in one united, go,
Passe Doves in billing:
Mix ye, and struggle till your marrow flow,
Embrace more willing
Than th'Loving Palmes (great Vnions wonder)
That ne'r bore any fruit asunder.

Be young to either, when Winter and grey haires
Your heads shall climbe,
May your affections like the merry Spheres
Still move in Time;
And may (with many a good Presage)
Your Marriage prove your Merry Age.

214

Next Day, when the fair Bride might boast a name
More noble, and 'rose perfect as her Mother,
All sorts joyn'd hands to celebrate her fame,
And grace the Pomp with some device or other.
Songs lull'd the Aier, and the battering feet
Of tilting Steeds dull Earth to motion beat.

215

The honest Swaines, whose Rustick paines and Love,
The noblest Princes are too high to scorne,
Joyn'd in a Pastorall, both their mirth to move
And shew what dutious minds by them were born.
To name no more, there Willie to his mate.
The last daies Pomp thus bluntly did relate.

A Ballade Vpon the Wedding.

1

I tell thee Jack as I sought out
A stragling Lambe which straid about
The Hony-suckled Plaine,
Mine eyes met such brave things i'th'way,
As I ne'r saw before that day
Nor never shall againe.

2

From yon gay House there came a Band
Of simpring Courtiers hand in hand,
Drest wondrous brave and fine.
But O their Leader was a Lad
In such a gaudy habit clad,
As he did all out-shine.

3

Our Lord o'th'Town bears not such Port
When he fits talking Law i'th'Court,
With's Tenants round about.
Should he be on the green at Night,
(Jack) thee and I each Lasse would slight,
And crowd to take him out.

4

But wot you why he went so gay,
It seems it was his wedding Day,
And now to Church he go.
Me thought he lookt oft at the Sun,
As if he wisht his race were run,
So did the Bride also.

5

The Bride! the bravest in the row
Our Town and all our Hundred too
Can't shew the like I'l swear.
I ne'r saw Lady at a May
Or Shrovetide, or on Whit sonday
That with her might compare.

6

Of a pair of Indies I've been told,
Where men find precious stones and Gold,
I wot not where they are.
Nor doe I mind to go to see,
But doubtlesse if such things there be
I think they'r both in her.

7

The East, the tramells of her hair
Gilt by Phœbus beames appear
Like to a golden Fleece,
More rich and fair than that which
Was stollen by the Colchan Witch
And the bold Youth of Greece.

8

Her sparkling Eyes are Jems so fair,
Their lustre dims the twinckling Star
Which bids us Shepherds fold.
Her lips be Corrall of great price,
Her breath is Violet buds, and Spice
Whose worth cannot be told.

9

The other Indies men call West,
These she hath too, and he is blest
That sought their secret treasure;
But did he dig in those mines though,
So oft as some in thought did do,
He'd labour'd out of measure.

10

Her milkie skin and front did show
Like Meadowes clad in Winters Snow
Or Cotshall Wool new drest;
Or like the girdle of the Skie,
Or a smooth mount of Ivory,
Or like to curds new prest.

11

Her cheeks (wherein both Roses joyne)
Seem'd Milk commixt with Claret wine,
Such as we drank last May Day.
No Tulip e'r such colour wore,
They look'd like Strawberries sugar'd o'r.
Such as we eat last Play Day.

12

When to the new swept Church they came,
The lightning which this Princely Dame
Shot from her eyes so bright
Struck blind the Parson, so that he
Poor Beauty-blasted Man, could see
Scarcely to read aright.

13

For all his Coat or Gravity,
I think he wisht as ill as I
Or any that stood by her.
Though all did look as who should say
Their very soules did melt away,
And drop before the fire.

14

The rites done (which like long Grace do
But keep them off that would fall to)
The two, now one, went home,
And call'd the waiters (Sans delay)
To serve the dinner up, though they
Had their Feast yet to come.

15

The Cooks to give the Guests content
Had plundred evry Element,
And rifled Sea and shore.
Beshrew my Heart I ne'r did see
Boards deckt with such variety,
And laden with such store.

16

Now were our Heads with Rosebuds crown'd
And flowing cups ran swiftly round,
Wee all did drink like Fishes;
That joy and pleasure may betide
The Bridegroome, 'specially the Bride,
Each lusty Gallant wishes.

17

The Womens eyes dwelt on the Maid,
Some lik't this Lace, some that, and said
'Twas A la mode du France.
And drew the picture of the Peak:
But then the Youth did silence break,
And call'd them forth to dance.

18

No dapper Elves or light-heel'd Fawnes
Could nimblier Trip it o'r the Lawnes,
Or Faries o'r the green.
Though by the Bride all were as far
Outstript as frisking Faries are
By Mistris Mab the Queen.

19

No Jack a Lent danc'd such a way,
No Sun upon an Easter Day
Is such a bouny sight.
Yet in her eyes I read that she
Meant to outstip her selfe, and be
Much nimbler far at night.

20

Now Supper came and Healths went round,
In full fill'd crowned Bowles we drown'd
The slow and tedious Day.
In Singing, Kissing oft, and Dancing,
In sighing, wishing well, and glancing,
We drave the Time away.

21

Till th'Nightingale did chant her Vesper
And our curl'd Dogs were warn'd by Hesper
To Congregate our Sheep.
Till the gay Planet of the East
Took leave of Iris, and did hast
To's sea-green Couch to sleep.

22

Now (Jack) th'unwilling willing Bride,
With th'busie Virgin crew, aside
Was stoll'n to undresse.
The Youth whose active blood began
To strike up Loves Tantarra, cam
Within an hower and lesse.

23

In came he, where she blushing lay,
Like to a Musk-Rose into a
Lap full of Lillies cast.
What pitty tis we still should stay,
And make them riper Joyes delay,
Only a kisse to tast!

24

But still as 'twere to crosse their blisse,
The Bridemaids Banquet enter'd is,
The Youth devour'd it halfe,
To end it, not his tast to please.
For minding those sweats comming, these
Were dull, as Whey and Chaffe.

25

At last, the lights and wee, went out.
Now what remain'd to do, they do't.
Some say they danc'd a Jig.
If so (Jack) 'twas but such as that
That thou and I i'th' Bower had
With Betty and with Peg.

216

But ah! how short's the tenure of mans blisse
On this side immortality! alas!
The gaudiest Fate with black lines dapled is.
What mortall e'r so bright a day did passe,
But viewing o'r the howers at Night, has seen
Some he had wish'd had not so gloomy been?

217

Yee happy Hermits! secur'd by kind fate,
From the gilt curse of Fortunes flattery!
Your blisse alone enjoyes a fixed seat,
Ours ebb and flow; you only wealthy be
In voluntary Poverty, and still
Pleas'd what e'r comes, since what's heavens is your will.

218

Whilst we are the blind Idoll Fortune's sport,
We are her Balls (stufft (ah) how beggerly)
The world so hazzardfull's her Tennis-court,
Contents the Cord, Her bandying Rackets be
Hope and Despair, with these, she (wanting eyne)
Tosse us, ofter below than 'bove the Line.

219

Soon to Therevtvs this crosse newes made wing
That Ulorvs (who now he thought had made
The Wormes a feast) on Beauty banqueting
In his fair Daughters armes entwined laid.
So stead of being into his first dust thrown,
Of his own flesh was a chief member grown.

220

No Bear rob'd of her Cubs, no hunted Boar
Melted to foam, chaft with so buncht a brow.
As dread Tarpean Jove when's thunder tore
The Welkin, and his forkt bolts laid full low
Th'ambitious Piles the hundred hands had rear'd;
With wrath so arm'd the furious King appear'd.

221

How can an Infant Muse reach at such woe?
Which only he can tell that Father is
To but one girle (whom Cypria did indew
With her choice gifts, and Delius with his)
When he sees him clasp'd in her dear armes ly
Whom he thinks his, and her worst enemy?

222

What Earthquakes in a Land th'Kings anger makes!
As th'Forest trembles when the Lions roar,
As Schoole-Boyes when his rod their Master shakes:
Such Palsie seiz'd the Court, And horror more
Than curiosity made all long to know
Since the dread arm was up, whose should be th'blow.

223

But these are safe in their best sute of Male
Their Innocence, the Queen and hers are meant.
So meannesse oft times is the low shrubs baile,
When Cyclops sweat the lofty Cedars rent.
Now overhasty Prince, who would not be
Rather a Groom than Wife or Childe to thee?

224

The King no sooner thought it than he sent
To th'Ile a Confident, a man whose will
He knew was melted into his, and bent
To feast all's humors were they good or ill.
He in Commission strong and's trusty Band
Soon left his own, and gain'd th'Æolian strand.

225

What time the pale Moon peeping through a cloud,
The secrets of the sullen night behold,
He and his train through the Queens guard did croud
With the Black Rod in's hand, which, her, he told
The King had sent, in token she must go
With him, the cause and end she soon should know.

226

The patient Queen with humble grace repli'd,
“And wills the King I soon my end should know?
“I thank his Grace, by making me his Bride:
“He heav'd me to the high'st seat Earth can show,
“And still he's good (since then this Earth hath none
“More rich) in giving me a Heavenly Throne.

227

To th'Princesse Lodgings next this Messenger
Of Death made way, where he did vertue see
With valour sporting; she with her brave Dear,
She the sweet burthen of the Gallants knee.
So Turtles bill, so Kids upon the Plaine,
Their snowie limbes doe wantonly enchain.

228

One of her hands (that compact of firm snow
And softer Ivory) he glew'd to's Lip,
Her other play'd with's jetty Locks. Doves so
From twig to twig as her quick fingers trip
From curl to curl, do hasten; but as they
Are th'Fowlers: so must these be Fortunes prey.

229

Now blasts their ears the cruel Message sent
From th'angry King; now they (O harshest Death!)
From eithers sweet embracements must be rent.
This melts the Princesse's eyes, th'affright her breath
Stopt, and she fainting catcht fast at her Dear,
As drowning men at any bough that's near.

230

Upon his Arm she her declining head
Did rest, whilst death in gliding sleeps disguize
Crept softly o'r her silence; fear bespred
Her silver Lids as curtaines 'fore her eyes
(Wherein the Sun was set) that her losse might
Not give her fresh wounds by the bitter sight.

231

Those Corrall twins her Lips which late I guest
Bloud hardned into blushing stone, turn'd clay.
Her Breath retired to perfume her Breast;
Her Roses and her Lillies drooping lay;
Her late swift Pulses slept, and did constraine
Their wanton dances in her Saphire veine.

232

Th'uncivill Pursivant arm'd with the wreath
Of his dread Master, falleth foule upon
The noble Youth; nought threats he lesse than Death,
Than which the vigorous Law more harsh had none.
So Falstaffe triumph'd o'r Hotspur's stiffe clay;
But, what cannot resist is Asses prey.

233

The Gallant youth who in just rage e'r while
Would such unmannerly soules kick from their slime,
Now seems no sense of injury to feel
Because the Mans high trust secur'd his crime
From privat chastisement; words poiz'd should be
Not by their own weight but the tongues degree.

234

The Ladies that their due attendance paid
To the sweet Princesse in the fright all shear.
Distracted thus, few to their Mistris laid
Their helping hands, which they employ to tear
Their hair now skar'd on end: all their tongues thus
Secure thy selfe by flight Lord Ulorvs.

235

As the last Trump shall at that great Assiise
(That Day of raising bones, and quickning clay)
Rallie our scatter'd attomes, and we 'rise
From out the mouldie Beds wherein we lay:
So at that Loved name Rosella broke
The bars of drowzie Death, and gently woke.

FINIS.

ELIZA

------ Huic labrr est placidam exorare Puellam.
OVID.

Upon the first sight of ELIZA, Masked.

When her saint Metaphore, Heavens radiant eye
Puts his black Velvet Mask of darknesse by
And freely shines, those Statues of live Jet
I'th' Eastern shores half pickled up in sweat
Adore his Lustre; but they never bow
Whilst Clouds case up and night-cap his fair Brow:
So when mine eyes first reacht her, she (alas!)
Was Mask'd, and Ignorant I by did passe
Without adoring, when such Shrines as hers
May make Saints croud to be Idolaters.

When Lady-like Loadstones in boxes cas'd
I've sometimes seen neer Iron wedges plac't

The am'rous metall wav'd, and still crept neer,
As if it knew its Love were shrined there.
I felt this sympathy, and in my breast
(Like a stray Bird now fluttering near his Neast,
Or like the Needle) my warm'd Heart did hover,
As who would say, the North I do discover,
The Center, cease then 'mongst the Rocks to steer
Thy course, but fix with presporous Omens here.

Now with devouter eyes I lookt agen,
But her black veil not drawn, thus (thought I then)
Thus Angels Pictures in the Sacred Quire
Are veild to raise our adoration higher.

Still (fair one) for the common good thus shroud
Your beames in waving curl, or silken cloud,
Or you'l scorch more than Phaeton with one Ray,
Whose shine might send the Cime'rans a Day.
Each Heart an Ætna, evry man must turn
A Salamander, and even living burn.
Blind as wag Cupid your refulgency
(As it did his) will strike each daring eye.
Myriads on each side as you walk must fall
As spurious Eaglets fore your Emblem Sol.
Thus you'd with looks Philosophy controul
And Fate, and leave the world without a Soul,
Or prove (which I confesse, since I was hit)
This all hath but one soul, and you are it.

On Eliza Unmasked.

When her bright eyes (those ruling Starres which now
Must guide my Fortune, and mine Actions too
Boasting a power 'bove Fate) pleas'd to dispell
Those silken mists and clouds which trembling fell
'Fore them, as bowing to those Rayes Divine,
And whilst they did ecclipse, adore their shrine.
Now darted she her beames through Beauties skies
And kindled willing me her Sacrifice.

So Heaven its holy fier once did fling
On its Elijah's piled offering,
Like it, in pure and Turtle flames I burne
Ne'r to be quencht till th'Pyle shall ashes turne,
Then, like a coal in dust of Juniper
Mine Heart shall glow a Martyr still to her.

Since then i'm turn'd all heat, had she not best
Consult with coldnesse, so to slake my breast?
No, Fondling no, then (as the deeper well
Makes fuell of the Ice) my flame will swell.

Thou then, the twang of whose Bow all commands,
Turn thy plum'd shafts to sacred fierbrands,
And make her Breast the Vestall Harth, that she
May sweetly burn in equall flames with me,
So (Love's 'bove Nature) this fire that sh'ant smother
But both vie Ardour, and maintaine each other.

Sonnet. To Eliza upon May day morning. 1649.

1

See! (Fairest) Virgins gather dew;
Wing'd Heralds blaze on evry bough
May's come; if you say so, tis true.
For thus your Power's 'bove his that seasons sway,
He brings the Moneth, but you must make it May.
Arise, Arise
Bright eyes,
And silver over Beauties skies:
You set, Noon's Night, you up, each Day
Turns jolly May.

2

Now Venus hatches her young Doves,
This fruitfull Moneth's proper for Loves,
Though Aprill sayes like her it moves
Full of sad change; but you may chase away
All showres with smiles, and make all our days May.
Arise, Arise, &c.

3

All, but you, Love, (though all love you.)
The Birds their song each morn renew,
Even Earth has dond her gaudy hue.

Since all things else are blith, let your kind Ray
Do more than Sol's, and make in me too May.
Arise, Arise, &c.

4

May this Moneth last, when bald Time shall
Climb your fair Hill of Youth, may all
His steps be slip'rie, and he back fall
To Beauties Spring, that your cheek may alway
That lustre weare that now adorneth May.
Arise, Arise
Bright eyes,
And silver over Beauties skies, &c.

Song. A Dialogue 'twixt Passion and Reason.

P.
VVhy doth her smiling eye shoot Rayes
(Able to gild a Captives Dayes,)
Which kindle in my Soul Desire?

R.
'Cause Love that dwels there is a fire.

P.
But why is tender Pitty bar'd
Out of her Heart that's frozen hard,
And cold as ycie Scythia?

R.
'Cause Love's a Nymph born o'the Sea.
And like her wavering Dame to be
Is faithlesse, as the Moon or Shee.

Chorus.

Love is cold, and yet a fire,
Tis a hot cold fiction,
A pleasant Affliction,
A fond Desire,
That puzzles Reason with a meer contradiction.

To Eliza, with my Cyprian Academy.

Lady,

Now hath the Youthfull Spring unbound
The Icie fetters of the Ground,
And ransom'd Flora from beneath
The frosty Prison of the Earth.
Fresh cloaths of State she spreads upon
The Downes, in hope you'l walke thereon,
And many fair flowers she doth create
Your fair cheeks to imitate,
Then borrowes perfumes for her Birth
From the Spicery of your Breath.

Shall I more barren than the thick
Element be? no, I'm more quick,
When she but leaves, see! fruits I bring,
Though scarce (I fear) well rellishing.
Their only excuse is, they be
Early, in the yeers Infancy.
Even tender Weeds 'mong Sallads passe,
And young things claime to prettinesse.

These clusters, if yet sowre of tast,
(As being somewhat too soon Prest,
And nipt with many an envious blast)
Thus still may hope maturity,
From the kind sunshine of your eye.
Daign but to gild them with one Ray,
And evry sprig shall turn a Bay
Green as that coy one. And I'l dare
To swear they're good when yours they are;
In you and shrines Divinity dwells
That hallowes all your utensills.
So I may hope too your sweet Power
Might make even me good were I

Your R. B.

Upon a Black patch on Eliza's cheek, cut in the form of an Heart.

VVhat's this, that holds that happy place
Her Cheek? and to requite such grace
Serves for a foyle unto her face?

Such Mole, the Queen hot Hearts obay,
Such Spots she beares that makes Night Day,
Such Tho[illeg.]e of Love wore Helena.

At distance, like a Cloud it showes
I'th' Skie when Morn doth first disclose,
Or like a Fly upon a Rose.

Near, tis an Heart, which being so nigh
The Torrid Zone of her bright eye,
Is scorch'd into the Negro's die.

I guest it some poor Heart, which late
Died th'Martyr of her Love and Hate,
Now Mourner turn'd for its sad fate.

And for Reward of Loyalty
Made by some pittying Destinie
A mourning Star in Beauties skie.

Strait on my Breast my Hand was thrown,
From whence I found my Heart was flown,
And thought to claime this for mine own.

But mine flames bright like Juniper,
A Turtle Sacrifice to her,
Not turn'd a coal by black Despair.

Yet lively this doth Typifie
My State me thought, if January
Should keep her Heart as Iune her eye.

But since my Heart will be her Guest,
May it not be shut out, but rest
For ay i'th' Paradise of her Breast.

Song. The Rose.

1

Ffrom Eliza's Breast
(That sweet Nest
Where my heart and Cupid rest)
I took a Rose-bud, which flew thither
For shelter from the droughty weather.

2

Whilst a Place it held
In that field
Of Lillies with Violet Mazes rill'd,
It gathered all its sweetnesse there,
And smells not of it selfe, but Her.

3

I thought to kisse the
Stalk, but see
It (angry) raiz'd it's fangs at me,
And prickt my lips in poor revenge
For making it its sweet bed change.

4

Whilst it therein laid
In its shade
Thousand Cupids frisk'd and plai'd
With Fairy Graces thither come
To prove her Breast Elizium.

5

Whence had it this die?
Did the skie
Lend it her Ruby Livery?
No, No, it only blusht to see
Her cheeks excell its gallantry.

6

See! so to be sham'd
And be tane
From her bosom, the poor man
Languishing floure its leaves hath spred
For Griefe, and lies (griefes Martyr) dead.

7

In it yet doth lie
Fragrancy;
Thus must choycest Beauties die,
But as this after death shall be
Still od'rous in their memory.

The Temper.

1

Cease me with Ardour to infest
Fierce Leo, and Heavens burning stone,
Th'Idalian fire hath made my Breast
Loves Africk, Cupids Torrid Zone,
Or Ætna, which doth feed such great
Flames, as I need no other Heat.

2

Invested in thine icye tire
Come hoary Hyems to my reliefe.
But yet I fear before my fire
Thoul't drop away; or else for Griefe
Dissolve to briny tears to see
My feaver, and drown thy selfe and me.

3

If Poison Poison can allay,
Sol fires extinguish with his beams,
Come Titan, with thy scalding Ray
Look out my flame. If by th'extremes
I chance to get a Calenture,
That's cool to what I now endure.

4

Cease Winter crown'd with Cristall ice
To frigidate my Eliza.
Her Heart's the Court of Dian nice,
Who makes it Greenland, Scythia
Or Caucasus, the frozen Station
Of cold which needs no Augmention.

5

She's white enough, and well may spare
Thine ashie fleece, a foyle to her,
Which when it sees it self so far
Excell'd, dissolves into a tear,
For spight its not so fair as she,
It turnes durt foule as others be.

6

Come Phœbus arm'd with scorching beams,
Besiege her with Iunes heat. But I
Fear e'r shee'l thaw to amorous streames
Thy selfe wilt freeze, or from her eye
(The Cittadell o'th' God of Love)
Thou'lt be shot and my Rivall prove.

7

If Snow can keep the Saplings warm,
If Wells be hottest in December,
Winter thy selfe with Ice go arme,
And come beleager evry member,
Till she yeelds Dian shall be sent
Into perpetuall Banishment.

8

When thou hast chas'd her from her hold,
And art possest thy selfe of it,
If by thy over-chilly cold
She chance an Ague for to get,
She shall extract from me such Cyprian heat
As'l cast us both into a panting sweat.

The Lovers Sun.

1

Let age-dry'd Æson Sacrifice
To Sol, and he whose weather-wise
Autumnine joynts at evry blast
Of Boreas keener Breath are cast
Into a Palsie, and do find
As much adoe to stand i'th' wind
And frost, as the thatcht shud, which he
Erected in's Minority.
And let Amyntas, and the Swaine
Whose Soule is corn, and Hope the gain
That the kindly-ripning Springs
And Golden-headed Harvest brings,
Evry Yeer
An Altar rear
To the gay Planet of the East,
And with a fatted Horse him feast.

2

Think not (Loves tell-tale foe) to see
These Superstitious rites from me,
For I acknowledge unto you
No Orgies or Allegiance due.
Tis not thy Atom-thronged Beam
Creates the Day in my esteem,
But bright Eliza's eyes which are
Than thee more radiant by far.
Compar'd with them, thou seem'st to me
Like Bristow stones compar'd with thee.
Nor is't thy abscence (flaming stone)
That makes my christall day-light gone,
But when dear she
Frownes upon me,
And shuts her eyes, Oh, then am I
Involv'd in Tenebrosity.

3

I owe not to thy sparkling Ray
The benefit of Night or Day,
Did she ever smile, thy light would be
Just as uselesse unto me
As is thy bicorn'd Sister Moon,
When sometimes she peeps out at Noon.
When my Saint shuts those heavenly lids
Whose wink each daring thought forbids
I hate to see thy glaring Light
And love my melancholy Night.
I wish thy race were shorter yet;
For when my Souls fair Sun be set

My heape of clay
Needeth no Day.
Besides, thou want'st enough of Light
To make it day when she makes Night.
So smiles or frownes she me upon
I either slight, or wish thee gon.

4

Nor owe I unto thee, but Her
All the foure Seasons of the yeer.
When Hyems hath benum'd the World
And such a cold about it hurld
As thou thy selfe hadst need to shine
Wrapt in an Irish Gausopine,
If I obtaine a Glance of Her
Or if her Name but strikes mine eare,
I am with a strange heat possest,
A Lightning's darted through my Breast,
And in my glowing Soul Desire
Hath kindled such a Vestall fire
As Trent and Thames
With all their streames
Shall ne'r quench; but for aye shall burne,
And warm mine ashes in mine Urne.

5

When thy fierce heat (Olympick coal)
Hath crack'd and thaw'd the Icye Pole,
And thou hast wrought thy toylsom track
Up to the lofty Lyons back.
And thereon rid'st environed
With beames ejected from thine Head,

That rive the ground, and singe the Grasse
And tan the jolly Shepherdesse.
The Oxe now grazes not, but lies
Tormented by the stinging Flies,
Or runs to find a cooler Bower,
I'l slight thy Tyrannizing Power,
I'l not in (vain)
Wish frost againe,
But shroud me from that flame of thine
In her sweet Grove of Eglantine.

6

Neither canst thou (for all thy heat)
Two Seasons at one time create,
But all succeed by turns. In her
All fower at one Time appeare.
The Spring perfum'd with fragrancy
I'th' Violets of her veines I spie;
To evidence tis Summer Time
Her Lips bear Cherries in their prime;
Wish I Autum? Lo, all the Year
On her Cheek hangs a Katherine Pear;
And Apples on her Breast be set
By Nature fairer far than that
Which tempted Eve
T'eat without leave.
If I desire a Winters Day
Warm Snow upon her hands doth lay.
But Ah! (which most I grieve to tell)
He also in her Heart doth dwell.

Upon a black patch on Eliza's Breast cut in the form of a Dart.

Sure Cupid thou hast lost thine Art?
See how neer, yet in vain thy Dart
Flew to my dearest dearest's Heart?

What triumphs can such Archery claim?
Reason would have thought in half this time
You might have taken surer aime.

But Pardon, I blaspheme in Jest,
Yet dread not thy Revenge i'th' least,
Thou canst not wound me more than th'hast.

But 'cause I'de have thee not refuse
Againe at her thy Bow to use,
I'l cog, and frame thee this excuse.

You gaz'd so long her eyes upon
(Far brighter than thy Psyche's own,
Or Heavens illustrating stone)

As dazled with the wondrous flame,
Alas! you lost your levell'd aime,
And with halfe strength thine Arrow came;

Which, losing th'point did side-waies fall,
And on her Breast hung like a small
Anchor upon a free-stone wall.

To Eliza with my Apology for Paris.

See! (Sweet) the Trojan Prince is come
To you t'attend his finall doome,
His judgement oft hath Judged been,
And controverted Pro and Con,
But if you please t'allow it just
He'l henceforth scorne each Criticks gust.
And from your mouth our Oracle
Wee'l him Loves Minos ever call.

If my soft Muse you think rän low
In blazing Cypria, and I show
But a pale shadow of her worth,
Alas! tis' cause I drew it forth
Before your eye beames did inspire
My fancy with Idalian fire.
If this I said for th'Queen of Love
What had I said if you had strove?
In your behalfe? but (fairest) then
No Argument had needed been,
The least glance of your conquering eyes
Had made the youth lay Beauties prize
And's Heart too, at your feet, without
Which to prefer the smallest doubt;
And then he had not needed mee
To coyne him this Apologie.
Such choice even Cato had approv'd,
And Cæsar for it had him lov'd.
For this I'l prove, with smal expence of wit,
Venvs gat Beauties prize, you merit it.

To Eliza, with a Tulip fashion'd Watch.

Lady,

This measure of Time accept with serene eye
From him, whose Love to you shall Time out-vie.
See! what disguise this spie of Day doth wear,
A Tulip! as the forge its Garden were.
Indeed heat procreates even Flowers, but this
A peece of an Egyptian Mysterie is.

Time, by a Flower denotes how suddenly,
Earths frailer crops bloom, flourish, fade, and die,
In speciall Beauty (that sweet Tulip) hasts
To waite on Time, then use it whilst it lasts.

When these small clicking orbs you busie hear,
Panting in their round journey, like the Spheres,
Think so my constant heart doth palpitate
Towards you, and th'Pulse of my Affections beat,
Ne'r to stand, till shee that each happy thing
Envies (the peevish sister) cuts the string.

Song. The Maiden Blush.

VVhere hast thou been Aurora bright?
With Bacchus revelling last Night?
And now the Clarret thou drank'st there,
I'th' tincture of thy cheeks appear.

100

Or thou art turned Gallant gay?
And wilt perhaps to Court to Day?
And for thy more admired grace
Hast painted thy enchanting face?

But Eliza has not revell'ing been
Nor meanes to be i'th' Presence seen,
And yet the same Vermilion
Her Rosie-tincted cheek is on.

Or Morn doth blush to see, so far
Her selfe excell'd in hue by her,
Else sure carnation Heaven doth die
Her cheeks, or they bepaint the skie.

Doubts & Feares.

Rouze Erra Pater, and erect a Scheme,
Tell, tell me, may I hope one cheering beame
From my Loves eye? say, shall my Joyes become
Perfect on this side of Elizium?
Cast, Cast a figure, shall I find that place
On Earth in a sweet Heaven of her embrace.

Why should hope flatter me? since her fair hands
I find so loath to tie those life-long bands?
But why should she shun Juno's fane? or be
So adverse to the Genial Deitie?
Truth on mens tongues (she saies) doth seldom sit
But what they rashly swear they soon forget.
Shee saies they write in Sand when they take oathes
And keep their vowes just as they weare their cloaths,

101

Whilst only they be new and fresh i'th'fashion
But once grown old (like words they speak in Passion)
They lay them by forgot, and their Loves leave
With watry eyes to waile the faith they gave
To their more watry vowes; And then in Pride
In scornes Triumphall Chariot will they ride
Over their spoyles, and tirannously glory
How many female Trophees deck their story.
So quick-eele Theseus of two conquests vapour,
Poor Ariadne and the Minotaure,
And leaves Fame in the Labyrinth to tell
Of that, or himselfe which was beast most fell.
So did false Jason by his vow-breach prove
'Twas gaine he sought for, not Medea's Love.
Thus slippery streames the yielding banks do court,
Then gliding thence, say they but lov'd in sport.
Thus winds wooe Flowers, but having of their smells
Rob'd them, sly thence perfum'd to other cells.

Rouse ye infernall Hags, yee direfull three
From the foule lakes of Nights darke Empery.
Give me a bunch of Scorpions to lash
Lady-deceivers, and to teare their flesh
With stings, more than they did the gentle hearts
Of maids they cheated with their Crocodile Arts.
Hells curse on the inconstant crew that tooke
Loves sacred name their fraud or lust to cloak.
Vipers to your own kind, its long on you
Ladies scarce credit us that would be true.

Rest thee Ixion, these deserve to feel
The weary service of thy constant wheel.
May the inconstant Stone disturb your rests,
And ravenous Vultures banquet on your Breasts.
And 'cause your flame of Love went out, fry there
In flames eternall as your shame is here.

102

There (though not here) be constant in your tones,
But let them be Caligula's musick, groanes.
May heaven invent new Plagues, and Poets adde
More curses for you to the store we had.
And may your Ribs in Hell a Grydiron be
Whereon your soules may broile eternally.

But ah! I faint! I fear my fate is near,
I feel that colder poyson sad Despair
Invade my veines, shaking my cot of clay,
Warning my soul out; thus warn'd none can stay.
Yet may I ere on Earth I quit my room
Bespeak a better in Elizium.

Sweet Svckling then, the glory of the Bower
Wherein I've wanton'd many a geniall hower,
Fair Plant! whom I have seen Minerva wear
An ornament to her well-plaited hair
On highest daies, remove a little from
Thy excellent Carevv, and thou dearest Tom,
Loves Oracle, lay thee a little off
Thy flourishing Svckling, that between you both
I may find room: then, strike when will my fate,
I'l proudly hast to such a Princely seat.
But you have Crownes, our Gods chast darling Tree
Adorn your Brows with her fresh gallantry.
Stay, I'l go get a wreath too, the Saint I
So long ador'd a Willow can't deny,
I'l claim it, and of that as proud be seen
(Cause tis her favour, and in her hand hath been)
As you of Lawrell, tis as fresh, as green.

103

Sonnet. The Protestation.

1

First stones shall races upward run,
Scots forget craft, and Avarice Jewes;
The Needle its dear North shall shun,
And Impudence the publique Stewes;
First supple flattery Nero's Court shall flee,
E're I cease thee to Love, and only Thee.

6

If any object to mine eye
Seems fair, but what in thee is found;
If my dull ear hears melody
Besides thy voice in any sound;
If my abused taste its art should misse,
And relish ought besides thy balmy kisse;

4

If my false touch should think it hath
Felt any thing smooth or soft, but thee;
Or if my smell, besides thy Breath
Counts ought Perfume, or Nard to be;
May Titians Kites feast on me, whilst I see
My Rivall joy in and enjoying Thee.

FINIS.

105

POEMS.

107

Upon Birth and Infancy.

1

Birth is a kind of Resurrection;
For Man is buried ere he be brought forth.
Th'membrane that veiles the tender Embrion
Is first its winding sheet, then swadling cloath.
Death ushers in mans life, so that the wombe
Is both his genethliack Inne and Tombe.

2

Birth is a kind of Goal delivery.
A Prisoner ere he knowes what's to be free
Man is. Thrice three Moneths doth he cloystered lie
In a maturnall Dungeon, after, he
Lives halfe in nights; whom Lucine forth doth let
Leaves not his darknesse, but exchanges it.

108

3

Gods Commissary Nature doth bestow
The inborn Principalls and Physicall
Dictates of Reason on him, this yee don't know.
And thus alone he proves he's rationall,
He wailes with cries which no salt teares do want
The Ignorance of which he's Ignorant.

4

His lives twilight, or dawning of the Day
In this same wheel or circular is spent,
He sucks, sleeps, cries, Tria sunt omnia.
As if he deem'd Death gain, Life punishment.
He's quiet but sleeping when in jeast he dies,
But when he wakes, and finds he lives, he cries.

5

He is beholding to (though he's by Birth
The Monarch of the whole creation)
Brute Animalls and hospitable earth
Both for his vestments and nutrition.
Being cloath'd he's lull'd asleep by his own cry,
So, ere he 'gins to live, he learns to die.

109

In Principem arma petentem. ------ Erit ille mihi semper Deus.

And weares his Highnesse Buffe? stir, Vulcan, stir
The coales, and forge bolts for Heavens Thunderer.
To naile his foes to earth with. Now assume
Celestiall Archer thy sure Bow, new plume
The Shaft that pierc'd the Python; Neptune bear
Thy Fork aloft and many maid thy Spear.
Sern Mars girt on thy sword and shake the Lance,
Thy knotty Club, great Hercules, advance.
Arm Gods, and Hero's arm, keep watch and ward
About his Person and be his Life Guard.

May evry Sun present him with fresh Bay,
May he ne'r know what tis to misse o'th' Day.
May's name (like Zisca's Drum) his foes affright,
May their hearts drop into their heeles at's sight;
And may our arms pave all the way he treads
With peacefull Olives, or bold Rebells heads.

Kind Jove give Fortune eyes, for could she see
Whom she attends upon, it could not be
That (to what place so e're he would betake him)
She should so hate her selfe, as to forsake him.

TO That Darling of Virtue his dear Friend John VVroth, Esq

I love thee highly, but for what?
Is't for thy blood or Births sake? no
I'm not so fond to dote on that
Which ballanced no weight doth know,

110

Nor object to the eye doth bear,
But only fills the vulgar ear.

Nor for thy fortunes, since we know
They (sometimes) like the faithlesse sea
Ebb from the good, to th'impious flow,
And them with flattery betray:
Stealing, like to the theevish sands,
When most they grasp them through their hands.

From dead mens urnes and dust doth come
Gentilitie, but wealth doth take
Its rise yet lower, that's but scum
Of the sulphury boyling Lake.
These I respect, but what I love
In thee, is something from above.

Vertue it is, which as a Star
In thy ennobled Soule doth shine
Fixed, as in its proper Sphear,
And making thee (like it) Divine.
For th'rest I honour thine Ancestours;
Greatnesse we borrow, Vertu's ours.

111

To that emulated piece of Perfection the Lady Diana Willoby. With Sir Tho: Overbury's Wife.

Lady,

Here comes a Wife to kisse your hand
By whom both Death and Life her Parent got.
Yet she's not the worse to be entertain'd
Since th'first was her ill fate, the last her Plot.
Her chief fault (whereof all have some) that I
Find, is that hitherto she'th mist your eye.

Your eye! ah! too too dark a word! our Sun
To which all Poets their braines-births should bring
There to be tri'd (as Eagles oft have done
Their young ones to the Planets glorious King;)
And banish those, as spurious from their Nest
That could no: 'bide your most judicious Test.

View her then (Madam) or rather your self view;
For she's your shaddow, you her substance are.
What he Lord wish't in her, yours find in you,
As you th'originall, she the coppy were.
Use her thereafter, if she welcom misse
You are harsh even to your selfe, for you she is.

112

To my Honour'd Friend Benjamin Garfield Esq; Upon his excellent Tragi-comedy Entitled The Unfortunate Fortunate.

And is thy Sock on friend? ascend the Stage
And tell the Antimaskers of our Age
Thalia's harth shall Smoke yet; what though that
Pig-wiggin Satyrist makes the poor Presse sweat
With dull invectives 'gainst her Comick train?
Pox, tis 'cause he wants ears to hear her straine.

We find (such surfet th'Iron Age hath tane)
More moralls at a Theater than some Fane,
Our Brittish Turks exhort us there with heat
With Poleaxes into mens heads to beat
Their new Capricio's, this Enigma there,
To obey Kings by opposing, is call'd cleer.
These are the truest Playes, those we stile so
Teach us in jeast in earnest what to do.
They're Sermons in disguise, a good Play is
A Lecture of humanity. So is This.
Thy Muse, the goodliest of the Iove-born Quire,
(From whose Syrenious voyce and mellow Lyre
Orpheus might learn to tune the chiming Sphears)
Unto a Musick Banquet calls ours ears,
Where ('cause best melody in Discords dwell)
Countrey and Court our hearing Organs fill.
First Balaam's Asses bray, beasts set on end,
Soules drown'd in lumps of flesh that downwards tend.
Yet 'mong these walking clods thine Effre showes
Like one of Venus team trooping with Crowes.

113

She thus disguiz'd is no more blemished
Than a rich Diamon'd that's set in Lead.
Of their Rusticitie she partaked lesse
Than th'scaly Tribe do o'th' seas brackishnesse.
So Danube scornes with Sava's muddy tyde
To mix though both through the same channel glide.
Thus the coy River Arethusa ran
Piercing the bowells of the Ocean
Some hundred Leagues, and then forth issued
Free from salt Tincture as at her springs head.
Thou tell'st us how one Dart struck two together,
Plum'd with a Turtles, not a Sparrows feather.
But oh the frownes of chance that Lovers meet!
“'Lesse 't had sowre sawce Love were too sweet a meat.
Now a foule Dungeons eccho must reply
Their itterated vowes of constancy.
Yet nor this storm of Fate, nor cage them moves,
But here like Nightingales they chant their Loves.
“A great mind, maugre usurpt Power, or thrall,
“Is free in Carisbrook as in Whitehall.
At length their Innocence breakes forth like Day
And chase black Nights suspicious clouds away.
“Fortune's like Proteus the changling Kern,
“But kick and she'l to her true shape return.
Thy Lovers fortitude in hard assays
Got them the Nuptiall Garland, thee the Bayes,
In which ere verdant wreath no branch of Vine
I spie, its dew'd with Helicon, not Wine.
With strenuous sinewie words that CAT'LINE swells
I reckon't not among th'Men-miracles.
How could that Poem heat and vigour lack
When each line oft cost Ben a glasse of sack?
“When brisk Canary flowes with Castaly,
“Wits torrent swells, and the proud floud boiles high.

114

If you mixt ought with th'Aganippe floud,
'Twas but an Heritiques, not God Bacchus's bloud,
The Hop's the Heritique, yet thou art he
Bring'st Truth of Poesie out of Heresie.
If such things flow from th'fat, a Brewers horse
I'l yoak with Medusean Pegasus.
The Grape and Hop in the same scale I'l put.
Now, now, the Hoghead's equall with the Butt.

Go, forth, and live, great Master of thy Pen,
And share the Lawrell with thy namesake Ben,
Whose Genius thou hast as well as name,
And as your wits are equall, May your Fame.

It rests, but that I wish the Actors may
As well as thou hast written, make the Play.
“Playes written are not finished, made they are
“I'th' study first, next on the Theater.

ERYNIS,

OR, Discords Speech in a private Presentment.

Hoop, Hoop me, or I burst! to what a fear'd
Stupendious height I have my Trophies rear'd?
Though yet my Power and wishes be not even
My head at each step tilts 'gainst stars in Heaven,
In Heaven, where onely Jove me rule denies,
But as he hath me from above the skies

115

I've banish'd him beneath; so of the tripple
World he but one part holds, but I a couple.
Far, as the messe of jarring Brothers I
Do puffe my severing breath, if they swell high
And stiffely plead their claimes to th'airy throne
In Thunder that hoarse Stentors base doth drowne,
These my officious wormes as loud have hist,
And prest from Hæmus top Mars to assist
Their rage, with artificiall claps that mock
Joves idle terrors, and his Region shake.
If they disigning to invade the skie
Throw christal mounts on mounts to scale thereby;
And from their Potgun throats belch gusts that teare
(Granado like) the Houses of the air,
In this my knotty bunch worse stormes each Snake
Can raise, which down at last in red showres break.

Thanks dutious Son, more sage than Machiavel
(Though the joke saies he scarce is match'd in Hell)
Thanks for abusing the aspiring traine
Their easie faith with, but Divide and Raigne.
To their hopes scene now longing court they me
Where I make them toyle for their Tragedie.
Thus gull'd, they find no Raign, but that of blood,
And Plagues high swelling as Ducalions Floud.
Whilst I and Spoyle, like mercenary Bands
Quell them that call us in, and share their Lands.
Thus Slaves crowd in, whilst I with smiling chear
But clap my hands and cry fight Dog fight Beare.
Successe thus makes th'Oraculous sentence good,
Divide and Discord Raign, shee's understood.

116

An Anniverse on the fifth of November.

You that derive your far-fetch'd Pedigree
From mighty Brute, from th'Son of Saturne He,
Sing Io, Io, and fill the sportfull skies
With songs, for joy you tore them not with cries.

This is the Day (meant for your Day of Doom)
In which to Babell, rather than to Rome
Your Commons, Peers, your Prince, your Queen, and King
Were all intended a burnt-offering.
The Pyle was built, the sulphurous train was laid
Which had but one Squib of a Nation made;
Had the least spark but lent it breath't had driven
In bright Elijahs Chariot to Heaven
Princes and Prophets; tattred limbs had fill'd
The air, where bloud had in red showers distill'd.
Quick Death had given no time to fear his spight,
The active flame had seiz'd ere had the fright.
The coward Dame had cut threads unprepar'd,
And wounded men ere they could wake to ward.
Who ere were those unfortunate male contents
That of this dire Treason were Instruments,
The Author was that subterranean Fiend
The common Enemy of Man, his end
A scandall and an odium to bring
Upon those People whom their peacefull King
So strongly guards from all his other harms.
And to cast dirt he meant by traytrous charmes

117

On their Religion, that she might here
As foule as she doth fair in Heaven appear.
The Powder Plot, a Monster Hell did hatch,
Was such, for which no story has a Match.

FINIS.

119

EPIGRAMS, &c.

FIRST BOOKE.

------ Queritur læsus Carmine nemo meo.
MARTIAL.

121

I. To my Lady E. R. Commending his Muse.

Madam,

If weight or light in my weak lines you spie,
Weight from your mouth they take, Light from your eye.

II. To the same, On War.

VVar, that black word, compos'd of thousand ills,
Ladies ne'r speak nor think, but 'gainst their wils;
The Lute sounds pleasant, harshly stern alarm's,
They love not Armed Men, but Men in Arms.

122

III. On the Picture of Lovys the fourteenth King of France.

This, this is Hee that turn'd the storme to calme,
And fenc'd his Lillies with triumphant Palme,
And by his actions, so far greater then
His Age, proves Kings are never childeren.

IV. Antithesis, to the conclusion of Sannazarius his Epigram on the City of Venice, which when he has compared to Rome, he saies

Illam homines, dices, hanc posuisse Deos,
Those men you'l say,
These stones the Gods did lay.

In silence be the worlds Seven wonders lost,
Thy stately Hills Proud Rome, no longer boast.
See here! men dwell with Fish! a City stands
I'th' water! and the God thereof commands!
Neptunes great Realm's invaded thus, and tam'd!
Not Men (you say) but Gods, this Wonder fram'd,
That makes the wonder lesse; tis Venice's praise
That mortall Men, not Gods such Piles could raise.

123

V. To a Cadet.

What though thy Creditors call Pay? ne'r fret,
A Pound of care can't pay an ounce of Debt.

VI. An Epitaph, Upon Henry the eighth King of England, Translated out of Spanish.

O Henry more than this cold cover
Of stone, thy worth do hide and smother
The Love of Luscious Venery,
And stubbornnesse in Heresie.

How with thy greatnesse I demand
(Poor Cosen'd Briton) could it stand
To let a Woman on thee tread
And yet to be the Churches Head?

VII. Another, on Queen Elizabeth.

This Urne doth Iesabels dust comprise.
Here the new Athalia lies.
O'th' Western ore the Harpye,
The cruell firebrand of the Sea.

124

Here lies a wit, of Fame the most
Worthy that even Earth could boast,
If, to arrive at that blest Bay
Of Heaven, she had not miss'd her way.

VII. To Sim the Letcher.

I told Sim if he breath'd his last at Rome
His dust with Courtizans should mingled lie:
For Whores and Heretiques there find one Tomb.
He answer'd, that's a happy turne, for why
Alive but one at one time I enjoy'd,
But dead in that Elizian grave shall I
With thousands lie at once and not be cloy'd.

VIII. To Momus.

Momus , my Poems I have sent
Abroad ere the Carnavall is spent,
'Cause I would have Carpes cheap in Lent.

IX. On the same.

My Book, like Persius, 'gainst the wall he hurries
Saying, Dicitque tibitua Pagina fur es.
And tis more crime (Synesius did suppose)
To steale a dead mans labours than his cloathes.

125

What Author in the Vatican is left,
If this be true, unblemished with theft?
I must confesse I'm guilty as the rest,
And am (like them) contented to be Prest.

X. To Will: Ad. upon his Marriage.

Now thou hadst need be very mild and still,
Seeing thy Kate is wedded to her Will.

XI. On Wittoll:

VVittoll said, he hop'd his Love
Would a pretty Fortune prove.
As so she has indeed, for she
Is famous for Inconstancy.

XII. On Hornes.

VVhen as the Wife deserveth them
Why should the Man hornes weare?
Because he is his Wifes head, and
No Beast weares Hornes but there.

126

XIII. Epitaph, On Henry the fourth, surnam'd the Great, King of France.

Stay Traveller, see Honours fraile decay,
Then passe, and wash with teares thy further way,
Seek not in Sols whole round a nobler Tombe.
A Greater King ne'r laid in lesser Roome.
No Death ere drew more Rivers from swoln eyes,
No Funerall broke the aire with sadder cries.
Pallas was so shar'd in him 'twere a bold word
To say which sharpest was his wit or sword.
These drops o'r all the blubber'd marble spread
Are Pearl like Teares, Griefs gems, to crown him dead,
Weep too, lest thou be'st harder than these stones;
Then passing say, (in broken sounds and grones)
Although a Bruter hand rob'd him of Breath,
France own'd a Cæsar in brave Deeds and Death.

XIV. On Sir Iohn Suckling.

The Rose (the Splendor of Flora's Treasurie)
Smells sweeter when tis pluckt than on the Tree.
So odorous Suckling (when he liv'd a Flower
Able alone to make the Nine a Bower)
Is held since he by Times Sith mow'd has been
The Sweetest Plant in the Pierian green.

127

Nor envious Fate, nor Northern blasts together,
Though he was nipt i'th' bud can make him wither.

XV. On Spend-all.

Spend-all to Court, to learn some manners went,
But there in revelling, all his Manors spent.

XVI. To Leigh the Linguist.

I oft have heard thee spend much of thy lunges
Praising the copious French, Greek, Latine, Tongues.
English thou saist is poor, and much doth want
Emphatick Phrases, words significant
T'expresse the Ideas that the mind affords,
Tis easly helpt; Marry, you I want no words.

XVII. To Mr Robert Brownrigg.

Prophetick Delius, (to whom is seen
What is, and what shall be, and what ere hath been,
From whose instructive Genius, Meeter springs,
And how to touch the well-concording strings,)
Being banish'd Delphos (where he us'd to shew
Inquisitive Mortalls what should ensue)
To Abions Woollie Isle he came, to find
A Monastry where he might sit enshrin'd.

128

Upon thy Head he happily hath hit,
Where he raignes, mounted on a Throne of wit;
And by Prerogative has given to thee
Th'manor of Tempe, t'hold in Capite

XVIII. To Mrs Diana Willoby, Upon her marriage Day morning it being very dark and misty.

VVhy is the Sun so thrifty of his light?
Is it to shew a Lovers Day is Night?
No, I've the Reason, the God of amorous heat
Takes up your eyes to light his torches at;
So bankrupt Sol, the wandring Knight so fair,
'Can't borrow thence one beam to gild the air.
Look then, and rescue with a glimpse Divine
From almost conquering clouds his fainting shine.
As with us (Madam) so it fares with him,
Without you shine all beames are sick and dim.
Astrologers (the Lanthorn-men o'th' year)
Shall henceforth tell, that from Diana cleer
Sol borrowes light, not she from his pale Ray,
Since you make both his and our (Wedding) Day.

129

XIX. To his Rivall.

I prethee why, since Twins in Love we be,
May not one Mistris serve both thee and me?
Since in the Worlds embroidered Canopy
Ther's but one Virgo for the Gemini?

XX. The Rivalls Answer.

VVhilst both unmarried be there needs no strife;
One Mistris may serve two, but not one Wife.

XXI. To Sir Iohn Falstaffe.

Thou think'st Sack makes men fat, faith't makes them leane
If they drink much of't, 'gainst the wall I mean.

XXII. Upon the Picture of my Nephew Mr. Iohn Man.

The Simulachre of the Queen of Love
In which Apelles cunning hand did prove
It abler skill, by adverse Fates was crost,
But Art, loath to have such a piece quite lost,

130

Only th'intended sex of Feminine
Have Metamorphos'd into Masculine,
And though not Cypria, tis a Young man
Whose fittest Epithet is Cyprian.

XXIII. Of Sutes.

Taylors are Liquids, Lawyers be no Mutes,
Yet here they jump, they both do live by Sutes.

XXIV. Epitaph, On a scolding Woman, Sub persona mariti.

Here lies my Wife interr'd; oh how
Good is't for her quiet, and mine too.

XXV. The Golden Age.

The Golden Age, that gild such golden rimes,
Was but a Prophecie of our now Times,
Though somwhat antidated, or (Sans doubt)
Now the great Yeer of Plato's wheel'd about.
For this wherein Lawes Lives and all are sold
Is, or the Golden Age, or th'Age of Gold.

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XXVI. To Kate common.

If like loves like, why should'st thou love the night
And deeds of darknesse, since thou art so light?

XXVII. On the same.

To sell her selfe is her chiefe care,
She is both her own shop and ware.

XXVIII. On the same.

Peacocks and Whores are neer ally'd,
Since both their Tailes maintaine their Pride.

XXIX. Occupations.

Tis an hard Time say Tradesmen, if it so
Continues, our Haire soon through our Caps will grow.
But whosoever breakes, who ever thrives,
Hoarse Lawyers will live, and sweet-tooth'd Midwives.
Especially the last, for young and old
Stir every stone, to make their trading hold.

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T'wish their gain more than Lawyers is no sin,
They Jars, these wish agreement friends between;
They live by fallings out, these falling in.

XXX. To an Antidated Cuckold.

Thou said'st 'cause War makes Men scarce, Women common,
Thou would'st ne'r marry, lesse to som great woman.
Nor have thy hand thy tongue and oath beguild,
Thou'st marry'd a great woman, (t'wit) with child.

XXXI. Women strongest.

VVhy should wee women th'weaker vessells call?
The vulgar Reason, we put them next the wall?
When I've heard say one Ladies single hair
Can draw more than of Oxen twenty pair?
And lesse it be in constancy we men
Th'exceed in strength; nay th'Devill himself, for when
He showes his face he only makes (weak fiend)
Our hair, these make our flesh to stand on end.

XXXII. To Mal: Winter.

VVould'st know why thy name's Winter? ther's reason for't,
Th'art like a Winters Day, durty and short.

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XXXIII. To curst Tib.

'Cause her low Husbands breeches are so short,
Long-shank't Tib raves, and beates the Taylor for't;
Peace Tib, what need you care what weares the Elfe?
O, cry a mercy, you'd weare them your selfe.

XXXIV. To loan Tosse-pot

Amongst couragious drinkers thou
Dost surely bear the Bell.
Though like a founder'd Jade thou look'st
Yet thou draw'st passing well,

XXXV. Campo-musæ.

Silvan by wagging of a bough,
Did becken me forth to see how
The Spring (the fair mother of Flowers)
Had given new coats to whistling Bowers.
In this gay Palace of the Spring
To hear May's harmlesse Syrens Sing.
And teach Nimph Eccho aires, I spread
My limbes upon a spicy bed
Of sweet though ordinary flowers
Perfum'd with West winds balmy showers,
Here many a theam my fancy hit,
Each object drew my thoughts to it,

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I saw the Marygold (Clytie pale)
Her beauty to the Sun unvaile,
As if she hop'd he would be to her
No longer coy, but came to woe her.
I thought no Plant in all the Bower
So like a woman as this Flower,
'Cause when she feels a litle heat
She opes her leaves and wide doth spread.
But she doth this whilst the Worlds eye
Doth brave the East, and gild the skie;
When he descends into the maine
And makes night shee shuts-close again.
With that my Muse her Theam did vary,
Knowing Women do the contrary.

XXXVI. To my Lady Venetia Grey.

Madam, from whom vertue might copies take,
And Nature learn more beauteous forms to make,
Chide not my Muse, your humblest servant, when
Even in your softer sex she spares not sin,
Since this e're was and e're shall be her care
To tax the crimes but yet the persons spare.

XXXVII. To the same, on her Wedding day morning.

Good morrow to the Bride, who (only) can
Show us the Day, Sol like a Servingman
Attends her windowes, whilst she sits undrest
He Westward seems, though newly rose i'th' East.

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XXXVIII. To my Poetique friend, I. S.

Daphne is star-proof, fork'd bolts never,
Her flourishing trunk could split or sever;
She having then secured thine head,
What need'st thou foul tongues thunder dread?

XXXIX. To Poetaster.

Of Admiration Ignorance is Sire,
But I know thee, therefore I don't admire.

XL. To fiery Face.

Telling som pranks of thee (plump Jack) you blam'd
Me, and desir'd, lest I should make ye asham'd,
Your name to hide; why fear'st thou that (Jack) tush,
Thy face is shame-proof, Scarlet cannot blush.

XLI. Too a covetous Puritan.

A crosse you dare not see, for you
From that and neck-weed feare your due.

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XLII. To the same.

Crosses you hate, and wish them banish'd hence,
Reform your Purse first, cast away your pence.

XLIII. To a Detractor.

I thank thee Aristarchus or stark Asse,
For taking with a sowre Tobacco face
My Lines, in Snuff, still spitting on each Letter,
For this makes me review and make them better.

XLIV. Past recovery.

Hei mihi quod nullis amor est medicabilis herbis!

VVhen sage Lycurgus, Sparta's Law inactor,
Made mulcts for this and th'other Malefactor,
No Penalty for Paricides he set,
Thinking none would so foule a crime commit.
So Æsculape the Physic Deitie
Gave salves for every other Malady,
But none for Loves sore, 'cause he thought indeed
No Liver so corrupt was such a Plague to breed.

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XLV. Perfumed corruption.

You that quaffe Amber, and with Musk-cats lie,
Embalming your corrupt bodies 'fore you die;
Who rottennesse to make sweet by Perfumes think
Lose coine and time to gain a dearer stink.

FINIS.