Poesis Rediviva :: :: University of Virginia Library

Poesis Rediviva

or, Poesie Reviv'd. By John Collop

Collop, John

[epigraph]

The fruit of Paradise.

On the Master's of the Science of defence in Controversie.

Jesuite.

The Church.

The Polemick Protestant D.

The Presbyter.

Prophanum vulgus.

On servile Will, irrespective Election, and Reprobation.

In multiplicem Schismatis Hydram.

On the Umbraticall Doctors on the Romish party.

On the fencers for Religion.

B. Jewel.

Doctor Whitaker.

Doctor Field on the Church.

Dr. White, Sir H. Lynd, Dr. Featley in answer to Lyndomastix.

Master Perkins.

Doctor Usher

Master Chillingworth against Knot.

Master Brightman on the Revelation.

Master Mede.

Doctor Potter.

Master Cotton.

On Bishop Laud against Fisher.

On Doctor Hammond.

To a Lawyer who said, though men might speak against those that are called Gospellers, none justly against them were called Lawyers.

On Magna Charta.

The Character of Loyall Friendship

To the Son of the late King.

News for News to a degenerate Cavalier.

To a degenerate thing falsely called A NOBLE.

A Character of a Compleat Gentleman.

Nobility innobled.

On Thomas Lord Wentworth Earl of STRAFFORD.

Summum jus summa injuria in jure regni.

On Poverty.

The pleasures of the VVorld.

A defence of Curiosity: an unsetled mind in unseled times; to weak Calumnie and proud ignorance.

On the death of Mistris E. Kinesm, whom age had transform'd to a Sceleton.

To a painted Lady, a Calf spotted, lusts Idol, like the Idol of the Egyptians.

To a Lady of Pleasure.

Against Phlebotomy to a Leech.

For Phlebotomy.

A Piss-pot Prophet.

To a Gigger to Padua, Valentia, and Leiden Doctors.

On Suburban-non Licentiates, who Fox-like call the Colledge grapes sour.

On the excellent Dr. Glisson.

The Sequestred Priest pidling in Physick

The fugitive Chymick.

On sigils.

On the Astrologicall quack.

Oglio of quacks.

On Noah Big's vanity of the Craft of Physick.

On Dr. George Bowle of Oundle.

On the death of his inviscerately affected friend Richard Watson Esq; Chyrurgeon to his late Majesty of England.

On Theocritus, Mosius, and Theognis.

On Virgil.

Chymerica Poesis.

The praise of a yellow skin:

To a Lady wadrring why I prais'd a yellow skin.

To Aureola, or the yellow skin'd Lady; asking who could love a Fancy.

To a refin'd Lady.

On an Ethiopian beauty, M. S.

Of the black Lady with grey eyes and white teeth.

The praise of his Mistris.

On a Blew Point given by a Lady on Valentines day to her Valentine, and preach'd against by a Parson who call'd it a Rag of Superstition.

On the Refin'd Lady.

On the wearing of the Tag of her Blew Point.

On Pentepicta:

On Flavia: A yellow hair'd Lady, E. W.

On a Crooked Lady, M. V.

The praise of Thick and Short.

To Dionysia the plump Lady, S. D.

On Monocula,

To Eugenia, a defence of juvenile wildnesse.

To a man of office under the L. K. who call'd detraction love, and Calumny good Counsel.

The ingenious Lady E. V. to l. L. contemning her age.

To a Lady singing, mistake me not.

Love wing'd.

To one wond'ring at my various colour'd Mistresse.

The vanity of Courtship devotion to relicks asserted and confuted.

Donec gratus eram. Horatii.

To Lydia.

E Martiale.

To Agatha an unfortunate piece of goodnesse E. P. a golden Mine obscur'd in dirt

The good Samaritan.

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The good Samaritan.

Why art so sad my soul? ah why
Doth sorrow make thy bones all dry?
Shall my sin speak so loud, and I not cry?

Thou good Samaritane save,
See, every wound's a grave,
Sins were the Theeves, let me thy mercies have.

See how the priests with them partake!
And by not pittying new wounds make.
Can pass with hearts unmov'd though their heads shake.

Nor tears, nor wounds, can pitty win:
Thy words the twopence; heav'n Lord the Inn.
Thy blood the oyl, must cure the wounds of sin.

Up, up my soul, make hast, arise:
Yet be not rash, beware, be wise,
Heav'n loves not a fools sacrifice.

106

The vale's for servants; sin unloose;
'Tis holy ground; put off thy shoes;
An Isaack for an off'ring choose.

Let not an Ismael with him share:
So up my soul, up, offer there;
Besiedge, arm'd, enter heav'n by prayer.

What though thy sins in troops like stars,
Have menac'd heav'n so oft to wars?
Heav'n conquering pray'rs atones the jars.

Rise Sun; stars shall appear no more.
See ah fresh sins like sands of th' shore!
Pennance lends floods to hide them ore.