University of Virginia Library

Lycoris a Rapture.

In vain thou striv'st Lycorice to defeat
my purposes, thy blushes may retreat,
But not my Love, nor can they easie flight
pass unpursu'd, or scape the Eagles sight;
Thou canst not fly my Love, for it hath wings
swifter then Swallows, so the Falcon sings,
When he hath seiz'd the Dove, and vainly she
with feeble force strives her poor self to free.
Art thou not mine? did not my Love surprize,
thee and thy Faith, and didst not thou devise;
An equal Snare for mine? since they agree,
why should our pleasures then at difference be?
That I do love thee, I must needs confess,
and I am confident thou thinkst no less:
But he that loves to talk and not to do,
looseth his Time, his Oyl and Labour too.
What man can love the thing hee'd not possess
or by his mind express his willingness,
Who spares to speak must never hope to speed
The heart that seeks not help may ever bleed:
Who onely look's, and loves but to admire,
smothers his flames ere they imbrace a fire.
The Face is but the Index to invite
our Eyes to view the thing of more delight;
So Painters set their peeces forth to win
us to survey their better Works within,
And I could be content with all my heart
to give my judgement on the inward part.
'Tis not the Face (alone) that men adore,
Love softly whispers, 'tis for something more,
And hath so well that secret-sweet exprest;
we ought to love that part amongst the rest.
Who values Lutes, but for the Ayres they make?
or who the Grape but for the Juyces sake?
Who slaves himself to love, not to enjoy
surrenders up his Freedom for a toy.
And she that out of simple modesty
denies Love Tenets, can no Lover be.
Love answers Love, and in that Language best,
when he is truly by himself exprest,
Nor put me off with such your queint delayes,
as heretofore, to hope for After-dayes.
Delayes are dang'rous, and my hopes may be
like Physick mis-apply'd to poyson me.
What thanks can she deserve that shews us meat,
with this proviso that we must not eat?
He must be Mad-man, or a Fool at least,
that starv's himself with hoping for a Feast.
And he recorded be a Fool at last,
that stayes for Meat until his Stomack's past.
Or shall against Gods Benefits repine,
and drink cold Water when he may have Wine.
What pleasure can there be in this or this?
we use to flatter Children with a kiss.
And sure more flames do from my heart arise,
when I salute those sweet Babies thy Eyes.
Thou smil'st, but like the Sun before a storm,
so violent fires decay ere scarce they warm.
Thou lett'st me kiss thy hand to raise my flame,
then leav'st me to be ruin'd in the same.
Can this be judged Love, or can there be,
'twixt Love and Beauty such Antipathy?
How should I know my Friend from Enemy,
but by the secrets he intrusted me;
But thou art so severe none can discover,
whether thou writ'st thy self, or Friend or Lover.
Happy were they that liv'd in Ages past,
when nature ty'd both Love and pleasure fast:
Blest were those Dayes, when Brest with Brest did meet,
and the stol'n sweets of Love not held unmeet.
When Man had Licence given him with his Eyes,
to search into Loves profound Mysteries.
When I do court thee to't thou plead'st a sin,
so putt'st a period to't ere I begin.
Tell'st me that Chastity's as cold as Snow,
and by that Metaphor you must be so.
But says Experience when the Sun appears,
he straight dissolves its Body into tears.
To mourn its own Condition, and it turns
by often handling, so you'd think it burns.
Think me the Sun my Dear, and by my Art,
I'le thaw the Snow congeal'd about thy Heart.
For know Lycoris there's no greater Vice,
in Woman, then to be so over nice.
What though the Fruits forbidden and the Tree,
Points death to others? it speaks life to me.
Our fears deceive us, he whose poor heart dare
not stand the peril must not hope to share
I'th prize or profit: So the Merchants gain
doth recompence his Travel and his pain.
That thing that is with greatest danger won,
brings greatest pleasures when the doubts are gone.
So's fame and Honour purchas'd, and by this
We make our Acts the Authors of our Bliss.
For ne're would Souldier any Siege begin,
did not his hopes perswade him he should win.
Nor ere did Army (onely) lye before
a Fort to look on't, and to give it o're,
If there were hopes of Batt'ry, and all know
long Siege the strongest Fort doth overthrow;
For violent Outward storms the In-works break,
and Confidence may make the strongest weak.
Thou art but Woman dearest, and canst do
no more then what the strength directs thee to,
Thou hast endeavour'd strongly to resist
but still the Seige continues, all things mist
Thy aime, thou shot'st in vain, thy force is spent,
yield on Free-quarter then, no Treason's meant.
No noise but such as Turtles sigh shall fill
thy Eares my dear, and I thy victor will
Become thy Captive, then who'd shun to be
o'recome by such a loving Enemy.
The Bed shall be our Field, and our Alarms
shall be soft kisses, though we fight in Arms;
Which I will sow faster then thou canst reap,
who would no purchase Amity so cheap?
They say Love Conquers all things if't be true,
'tis possible that mine may Conquer you,
And if no Fable that accounted be
I will oppose my Love 'gainst destiny.
I'le steal the Fruit from the Hesperides
spight of the watchful Draggon, when I please,
And more, to further our Content I'le charm
those Argoes Eyes about thee, no Ear harm
Our whispers by a listning, nor a light
but thine shall lead me to that blest delight
That pure Elizer, that All-happyness
whose Sweets none can but he that tasts express.
Nor think it desp'rate to be undergone
the Will doth make the difficulty none.
She that yields up her Reason to her Fear,
looseth her Joy, and finds her Ruin neer.
For when thy coyness hath me Murdered,
thy Pitty proves bad Physick to the dead.
Or could that Pitty me to life restore,
it cures but one wound to make thousands more,
Unless it carry with't express consent,
and liberty to warrant my content.
Then he so merciful to let me be
o'recome in Love by my o'recoming thee.
And let your understanding reach at this,
none hunts the Game but when the Season is.
Make use of Time, Flow'rs ne're so fair decay,
and Love may turn his course another way.
Then while our youths do last and Loves agree,
let not our Pleasures at such difference be;
The Sweets where of will lengthen out our time,
and never fade, but still be in their prime:
The breath of Love shall make our kisses sweet,
till we conceit our very souls do meet.
And as our Limbs do lovingly entwine,
we'le grow together like the am'rous Vine;
And wantonly our fancies shall invent
fresh Pleasures, when our old grow stale or spent.
We'le fright Age from us, and force Nature to
supply our wants, till she her self undo;
Revive our Pleasures with each Breath, and taste
the sweets as often, and yet find no waste.
Thus we will build an Altar, to delight
on eithers lips, and with a flaming sp'rit,
Our Actions shall be offer'd full of fire,
first kindled from a mutual desire;
That Poets now and in the Age to come,
shall fancy ours the true Elizium.