Ostella Or the Faction of Love and Beauty Reconcil'd ::

Ostella Or the Faction of Love and Beauty Reconcil'd

By I. T. [i.e. John Tatham]

Tatham, John (fl. 1632-1664)

[section]

Occasional Copies upon several SUBJECTS.

To a Mistris that told me, I could not live without her Love.

To a simply Coy Mistress.

To an imperiously proud Mistress, swell'd with my Praises.

Vpon the acquaintance of a Gallant Gentlewoman. To my self.

To a timorously willing Mistress.

Vpon my Noble friend, Richard Lovelace Esquire, his being in Holland. An Invitation.

To a Mistresse that thinks the sight without other enjoyment is Love sufficient.

To a vertuous Lady, on whom Envy had thrown a Scandal, for which she Mourned, and hung her Chamber with Blacks.

Spying Splendora through a Casement.

My Friend Paul Squire.

Seeing a Lady ------

An Occasional Frolick to an unknown Friend.

To a Gentlewoman that Loved me, and I not her.

Another upon the same.

A Dialogue.

To ------

To a Mistresse that bid me make another Choice.

To my self.

To the Deceiving Mistress.

To Mrs. J. H. upon my recovery of a fit of sickness.

To Mrs. I. H. upon the sight of a Marble Coverture or Statue in the Church.

A Frown.

Vpon my leaving off the Company of Hellena.

Songs in a Masque.

A Prologue spoken at the Cock-pit, at the coming of the Red-Bull Players thither.

A Prologue spoken at the Red-Bull to a Play called the Whisperer, or what you please.

On the Report of Master William Lawes his Death.

To my Mother, Mris. Dorothy Tatham, one of the Daughters of Christopher Percy of Manson in the County of Dorset, Esquire, then Iustice of Peace and Quorum, and High Sheriff of that County.

Vpon the Death of my Father.

Song.

To Cupid.

To the ------

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To a Gentlewoman that Loved me, and I not her.

Dart, dart thy Beams at one who is
a Subject fit to receive fire;
Thou sooner mai'st turn me to Ice,
than kindle in me a Desire.

The Sea may sooner flame than I
who am a Sea of liquid woe,
Ev'n dead I am, before I die,
and my heart's Coffin'd up in Snow.

Loves pretious Oyl and Sacred fire,
which in the Lamp my brest did burn,
Have left it empty, and retire
to wait upon Ostella's Urn.

That now a Vault it is become
and retains nought but holy Air,
Where Damps of Sadnesse take up room,
and Ghastly sorrows do appear.

How canst thou then hope heat from me,
whose Sorrows like to Damps, destroy
All Flames of joy, but what may be
kindl'd by thinking of her joy.

University of Virginia Library

To a Gentlewoman that Loved me, and I not her.