University of Virginia Library

ADDITIONAL POEMS

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Square brackets denote editorial insertions or emendations.

NOT INCLUDED IN HESPERIDES OR NOBLE NUMBERS.

The Descripcōn of a Woman.

Whose head befringed with bescattered tresses
Seemes like Apollo's when the morne he blesses
Or like vnto Aurora when shee setts
Her long disheuel'd rose-crown'd tramaletts:
Her forehead smooth full polisht bright and high
Bares in it selfe a gracefull maiestye.
Vnder the which twoe crawling eyebrowes twine
Like to the tendrells of a flattring vine,
Vnder whose shade twoe starry sparkling eyes
Are beawtifi'd with faire fring'd canopies.
Her comly nose with vniformall grace
Like purest white stands in the middle place
Parting the paire, as wee may well suppose
Each cheeke resembling still a damaske rose,
Which like a garden manifestly show
How roses lillies and carnations grow,
Which sweetly mixed both with white and redd
Like rose leaves, white and redd seeme mingled.
Then nature for a sweet allurement setts
Twoe smelling swelling [bashful] Cherriletts,
The which with ruby rednes being tipt
Doe speake a virgin merry cherry-lip't.
Over the which a meet sweet skin is drawne
Which makes them shewe like roses vnder lawne.
These be the Ruby portalls and devine
Which ope themselves to shewe an holy shrine
Whose breath is rich perfume, that to the sence
Smells like the burnt Sabæan Frankinsense
In which the tongue, though but a member small,
Stands garded with a rosy hilly wall,
And her white teeth which in the gum̄s are sett
Like pearle and gold make one rich Carcanett.
Next doth her chinne with dimpled beawty striue
For his plumpe white and smooth prrogatiue,
At whose faire topp to please the sight there growes
The blessed Image of a blushing rose
Mou'd by the chinne whose motion causeth this
That both her lipps doe pt, doe meete, doe kisse;
Her eares, which like twoe Laborinths are plac'd
On either side with rich rare Jewells grac'd,
Mooving a question whether that by them
The gem is grac'd? or they grac'd by the Jemme?
But the foundacōn of this Architect
Is the swan-stayning faire rare stately neck
Which with ambitious humblenes stands vnder
Bearing aloft this rich round world of wonder.
In wch the veynes ymplanted seeme to lye
Like loving vines hid vnder Ivorye,
Soe full of clarrett that whoe soe pricks a vine
May see it sprout forth streames of muscadine.
Her brest (a place for beawtyes throne most fitt)
Beares vp twoe globes where loue and pleasure sitt,
Which headed with twoe rich round rubies showe
Like wanton rose buds growing out of snowe,
And in the milky vally that's betweene
Sits Cupid kissing of his mother Queene,
[Fingring] the paps that feele like sleeded silke
And prest a little they will weepe new milke.
Then comes the belly seated next belowe
Like a faire mountaine in Riphean snowe,
Where nature in a whitenes without spott
Hath in the middle ty'de a Gordian knott
Or ells that she on that white waxen hill
Hath seal'd the promise of her vtmost skill.
But now my muse hath spi'de a darke descent
From this soe peereles pretious permanent,
A milky high waye that direction yeilds
Vnto the port mouth of th'Elisian feilds,
A place desir'd of all but got by theis
Whome love admitts to this Hesperides.
Here's golden fruit that farre exceeds all price
Growing in this love garded paradice.
Aboue the entrance there is written this
This is the portall to the bowre of blisse.
Through mid'st thereof a christall stream there flowes
Passing the sweet sweet of a musky rose.
Now loue invites me to survey her thighes
Swelling in likenes like twoe christall skyes
With plumpe soft flesh of mettle pure and fine
Resembling sheilds both smooth and christalline.
Hence rise those twoe ambitious hills that looke
Into the middle [most] sight pleasing crooke
Which for the better beawtifying shrowdes
Its humble selfe twixt twoe aspiring cloudes,
Which to the knees by nature fastned on
Deriue their overwell grac'd motion.
Her leggs with twoe cleire calves like siluer tride
Kindly swell vp with little pretty pride,
Leaving a distance for the beawtious small
To beawtify the legg and foote withall.
Then lowly yet most lovely stand the feete,
Round short and cleire, like pounded spices sweete
And whatsoever thing they tread vpon
They make it scent like bruized Cinnamon.
The lovely shoulders now allure the eye
To see two tablets of pure Ivory
From wch two armes like branches seem to spread
With tender ryne and silver coloured,
With little hands and fingers long and small
To grace a Lute, a vyall, Virginall.
In length each finger doth his next excell,
Each richly headed with a pearly shell
Richer then that faire pretious virtuos horne
That armes the forehead of the Vnicorne.
Thus every part in contrariety
Meets in the whole and maks a harmony
As divers strings do singly disagree
But form'd by number make sweet melody.
Vnto the Idoll of ye work devine
I consecrate this loving work of mine,
Bowing my lips vnto yt stately root
Whence beawty springs, and thus I kisse thy foot.

Mr Hericke his daughter's Dowrye.

Ere I goe hence and bee noe more
Seene to the world, Ile giue the skore
I owe vnto A female Child,
And that is this, A verse Instylde
My daughters Dowrye; haueing which
I'le leaue thee then Compleatly riche
Insteade of gould Pearle Rubies Bonds
Longe forfaite pawnèd diamonds
Or Antique pledges, House or lande,
I give thee this that shall withstande
The blow of Ruine and of Chance.
Theis hurte not thyne Inheritance,
For 'tis Fee simple, and noe rent
Thou Fortune ow'st for tenement.
Howeuer after tymes will praise,
This Portion my Prophetique Bayes
Cannot deliuer vpp to'th rust,
Yett I keepe peacefull in my dust.
As for thy birth, and better seeds
(Those wch must growe to Vertuous deeds)
Thou didst deriue from that old stem
(Loue and Mercie, cherrish them),
Wch like a Vestall Vergine ply
With holye fier least that itt dye.
Growe vpp wth Mylder Lawes to knowe
Att what tyme to say I, or noe,
Lett Manners teach the[e] whear to bee
More Comely flowing: where les free.
Theis bringe thy husband, like to those
Old Coyne's and Meddalls, wee expose
To'th shew, but Neuer part wth; next
As In a more Conspicuous Text
(Thy fore-head) lett therin bee sign'd
The Mayden Candour of thy Mynde:
And vnder it two Chast borne spyes
To barr out bolde Adulteryes,
For through these Optickes, fly the dartes
Of Lust, which setts on fier our hartes.
On eyther side of theis, quicke Eares
Ther must bee plac'd, for season'd feares
Wch sweeten Loue, yett ne're come nighe
The Plague of wilder Jelousie.
Then lett each Cheeke of thyne intice
His soule as to a bedd of spice
Wheare hee may roule, and loose his sence
As in a bedd of Frankensence.
A Lipp Inkyndled wth that Coale
Wth wch Loue Chafes and warmes the soule
Bringe to hym next, and in it shew
Loues Cherries from such fyers growe
And haue their haruest, wch must stand
The Gathering of the Lipp: not hand.
Then vnto theis, bee itt thy care
To cloath thy words in gentle Ayre
That smooth as Oyle, sweet softe and Cleane
As is the childish Bloome of Beane,
Thay may fall downe and stroake as the
Beames of the sunn, the peacefull sea.
White handes as smooth, as Mercies, bring
Hym for his better Cherrishing
That when thou doest his necke Insnare,
Or wth thy wrist or flattering Hayre,
Hee may (a prisoner) ther discrye
Bondage more Loued then Lybertye.
A Nature, soe well form'd, soe wrought
To[o] Calme A tempest, lett bee brought
Wth thee; that should hee but Inclyne
To Roughnes, Claspe hym lyke a Vine,
Or lyke as woole meetes steele, giue way
Vnto the passion, not to stay;
Wrath yf resisted ouer boyles,
Iff not, it dyes, or eles recoyles.
And Lastly, see thou bring to hym
Somewhat peculiar to each lymm,
And I charge thee to bee knowne
By n'other Face, but by thyne owne,
Lett itt (in Loues name) bee keept sleeke
Yett to bee found when hee shall seeke
It, and not Instead of Saint
Giue vpp his worth: to the painte;
For (trust me Girle) shee ouer-does
Who by a double Proxie woes.
But Least I should forgett his bedd
Bee sure thou bringe A Mayden head,
That is A Margarite, wch Lost
Thou bring'st vnto his bedd A frost
Or A colde Poyson, which his blood
Benummes like the forgettfull floode.
Now for some Jewells to supplye
The Wante of Eare rings brauerye,
For puplike Eyes, take onlye theis
Ne're trauylde for beyonde the seas,
Theyre Nobly-home-bread, yett haue price
Beyound the fare-fetch Marchandize.
Obedience, Wise-Distrust, Peace, shy
Distance and sweet Vrbanitie,
Safe Modestie, Lou'd Patience, Feare
Of offending, Temperance, Deare
Constancie, Bashfullnes, and all
The Vertues Lesse, or Cardinall,
Take wth my blessinge; and goe forth
Injewelld wth thy Natiue worthe,
And now yf ther A man bee founde
That Lookes for such prepared grownd,
Lett hym but wth indifferent skill
Soe good a soile bee-stocke and till,
Hee may ere longe haue such a wyfe
Nourish in's breast, a Tree of Life.

Mt Robert Hericke his farwell vnto Poetrie.

I haue behelde two louers in a night
(Hatch't o're with Moone-shine, from their stolen delight)
When this to that, and that, to this, had giuen
A kisse to such a Jewell of the heauen:
Or while that each from other's breath did drincke
Healthes to the Rose, the Violet, or Pinke,
Call'd on the suddayne by the Jealouse Mother,
Some strickter Mris. or suspitious other
Vrging diuorcement (worse then death to theis)
By the soone gingling of some sleepy keyes,
Parte wth a hastye kisse; and in that shew
How stay thay would, yet forc't thay are to goe.
Euen such are wee; and in our parting, doe
Noe otherwise then as those former two
Natures, like ours, wee who haue spent our tyme
Both from the Morning to the Euening Chyme;
Nay tell the Bell-man of the Night had tould
Past Noone of night, yett weare the howers not old
Nor dull'd wth Iron sleeps; but haue out-worne
The fresh and fayrest flourish of the Morne
Wth Flame, and Rapture; drincking to the odd
Number of Nyne, wch makes vs full wth God,
And In that Misticke frenzie, wee haue hurl'de
(As wth a Tempeste) Nature through the worlde
And In a Whirl-wynd twirld her home, agast
Att that wch in her extasie had past;
Thus Crownd with Rose Budds, Sacke, thou mad'st mee flye
Like fier-drakes, yett did'st mee no harme therby.
O thou Allmightye Nature, who did'st giue
True heate, whearwth humanitie doth liue
Beyond its stinted Circle; giueing foode
(White Fame) and Resurrection to the Good,
Soaring them vpp, boue Ruyne, till the doome
(The generall Aprill of the worlde) dothe Come,
That makes all æquall. Manye thowsands should
(Wert not for thee) haue Crumbled Into Mould,
And wth thayr Ceareclothes rotted, not to shew
Whether the world such Sperritts had or noe,
Whearas by thee, those, and A Million since
Nor Fate, nor Enuye, cann theyr Fames Conuince,
Homer, Musæus, Ouid, Maro, more
Of those god-full prophetts longe before
Holde their Eternall fiers; and ours of Late
(Thy Mercie helping) shall resist stronge fate
Nor stoope to'th Center, but suruiue as Longe
As Fame or Rumour, hath or Trumpe or Tongue.
But vnto mee, bee onlye hoarse, since now
(Heauen and my soule beare Record of my Vowe)
I, my desires screw from thee, and directe
Them and my thoughts to that sublim'd respecte
And Conscience vnto Preist-hood, tis not Need
(The skarcrow vnto Mankinde) that doth breed
Wiser Conclusions in mee, since I knowe
I've more to beare my Chardge, then way to goe,
Or had I not, I'de stopp the spreading itch
Off craueing more: soe In Conceipt bee ritch.
But tis the god of Nature, who Intends
And shaps my Function, for more glorious ends:
Guesse, soe departe; yett stay A while to[o] see
The Lines of Sorrowe, that lye drawne in mee
In speach, in Picture; noe otherwise then when
(Judgment and Death, denounc'd gainst Guilty men)
Each takes A weeping farwell, rackt in mynde
Wth Joyes before, and Pleasures left behind:
Shakeing the head, whilst each, to each dothe mourne,
Wth thought thay goe, whence thay must ner returne.
Soe wth like lookes, as once the Ministrell
Cast, leading his Euredice through hell,
I stricke thy loues, and greedyly persue
Thee, wth myne Eyes, or in, or out, of View.
Soe look't the Grecian Oratour when sent
Froms Natiue Cuntrye, into Banishmt,
Throwing his eye balls backward, to suruaye
The smoake of his beloued Attica,
Soe Tullye look't, when from the Brest's of Rome
The sad soule went, not with his Loue, but doome;
Shooting his Eye-darts 'gainst it, to surprise
It, or to drawe the Cittie to his Eyes.
Such is my parting wth thee; and to proue
Ther was not Varnish (only) in my loue
But substance, to! receaue this Pearlye Teare
Frozen wth Greife; and place it in thyne eare,
Then Parte in name of peace; & softely on
Wth Numerous feete to Hoofy Helicon,
And when thou art vppon that forked Hill
Amongest the thrice-three-sacred Virgins, fill
A full brimm'd bowle of Furye and of rage
And quafe it to the Prophets of our Age;
When drunck wth Rapture; Curse the blind & lame
Base Ballad-mongers, who vsurpe thy name
And fowle thy Altar, Charme some Into froggs,
Some to bee Ratts, and others to bee hoggs:
Into the Loathsoms[t] shapps, thou canst deuise
To make Fools hate them, onlye by disguise;
Thus wth a kisse of warmth, and loue, I parte
Not soe, but that some Relique In my Harte
Shall stand for euer, though I doe addresse
Cheifelye my selfe to what I must proffess:
Knowe yet, (rare soule,) when my diuiner Muse
Shall want a Hand-mayde, (as she ofte will vse)
Bee readye, thou In mee, to wayte vppon her
Thoughe as a seruant, yet a Mayde of Honor.
The Crowne of dutye is our dutye; well
Doing's, the Fruite of Doinge well, Farwell.

A Charroll prsented to Dr Williams Bp. of Lincolne as a Newyears guift.

Chorus.
Come then greate Lord
And see or Alter burne
With loue of yor Returne
And not a man here but consumes
His soule to glad you in perfumes.

His Mistris to him at his farwell.

You may vow Ile not forgett
To pay the debt,
Which to thy Memorie stands as due
As faith can seale It you;
Take then tribute of my teares,
So long as I haue feares
To prompt mee, I shall euer
Languish and looke but thy returne see neuer.
Oh then to lessen my dispaire
Print thy lips into the ayre,
So by this
Meanes I may kisse thy kisse,
When as some kinde
Winde
Shall hither waft it, and in leiu
My lipps shall send a 1000 back to you.

Vpon parting.

Goe hence away, and in thy parting know
Tis not my voice, but heauens, that bidds thee goe;
Spring hence thy faith, nor thinke it ill desert
I finde in thee, that makes me thus to part,
But voice of fame, and voice of heauen haue thunderd
We both were lost, if both of us not sunderd;
Fould now thine armes, and in thy last looke reare
One sighe of loue, and coole it with a teare;
Since part we must Let's kisse, that done retire
With as cold frost, as erst we mett with fire;
With such white vowes as fate can nere dissever
But truth knitt fast; and so farewell for euer.

Upon Master Fletchers incomparable Playes.

Apollo sings, his harpe resounds; give roome,
For now behold the golden Pompe is come,
Thy Pompe of Playes which thousands come to see,
With admiration both of them and thee,
O Volume worthy leafe, by leafe and cover
To be with juice of Cedar washt all over;
Here's words with lines, and lines with Scenes consent,
To raise an Act to full astonishment;
Here melting numbers, words of power to move
Young men to swoone, and Maides to dye for love.
Love lyes a bleeding here, Evadne there
Swells with brave rage, yet comely every where,
Here's a mad lover, there that high designe
Of King and no King (and the rare Plott thine)
So that when 'ere we circumvolve our Eyes,
Such rich, such fresh, such sweet varietyes,
Ravish our spirits, that entranc't wee see
None writes lov's passion in the world, like Thee.

THE NEW CHARON,

Upon the Death of Henry Lord Hastings.

The Speakers, Charon and Eucosmeia.
Euc.
Charon, O Charon, draw thy Boat to th'Shore,
And to thy many, take in one soul more.

Cha.
Who calls? who calls?

Euc.
One overwhelm'd with ruth;
Have pity either on my tears or Youth,
And take me in, who am in deep Distress;
But first cast off thy wonted Churlishness.

Cha.
I will be gentle as that Air which yeelds
A breath of balm along the Elizean fields.
Speak, what art thou?

Euc.
One, once that had a lover,
Then which, thy self ne'er wafted sweeter over.
He was—

Cha.
Say what.

Euc.
Ay me, my woes are deep.

Cha.
Prethee relate, while I give ear and weep.

Euc.
He was an Hastings; and that one Name has
In it all good, that is, and ever was.
He was my Life, my Love, my Joy; but di'd
Some hours before I should have been his Bride.

Chorus.
Thus, thus the gods celestial still decree,
For Humane Joy, Contingent Misery.

Euc.
The hallowed Tapers all preparèd were,
And Hymen call'd to bless the Rites.

Cha.
Stop there.

Euc.
Great are my woes.

Cha.
And great must that Grief be,
That makes grim

Charon
thus to pity thee.
But now come in.

Euc.
More let me yet relate.

Cha.
I cannot stay; more souls for waftage wait,
And I must hence.

Euc.
Yet let me thus much know,
Departing hence, where Good and Bad souls go.

Cha.
Those souls which ne'er were drencht in pleasures stream,
The Fields of Pluto are reserv'd for them;
Where, drest with garlands, there they walk the ground,
Whose blessèd Youth with endless flow'rs is crown'd.
But such as have been drown'd in this wilde sea,
For those is kept the Gulf of Hecatè;
Where, with their own contagion they are fed;
And there do punish, and are punishèd.
This known, the rest of thy sad story tell,
When on the Flood that nine times circles Hell.

Chorus.
We sail along, to visit mortals never;
But there to live, where Love shall last for ever.

Vpon a Cherrystone sent to the tip of the lady Jem̄onia Walgraves eare.

Lady I intreate yow weare
This little pendant on your eare,
Tis not Jewell of great prize
Or in respect of Merchandize,
But deepe mistery, not the stone
Gives it estimation.
Take it then and in a viewe
See th'Epitomè of yow,
For what life and death confines
Looks through the passage of theis lines
Whose incarvemts doe descrye
A scripture how yow liue and dye.
Read it then before your lipp
Comends it to your eares soft tipp
And the while yow doe surveye
This Janus looking double waye
With a teare yow may compare
To that yow must be; what yow are.
Know time past this cherrystone
Had a sweet complexion
Skynne and colour, flesh and blood,
Daintye tast for ladyes food.
All's now fledd saue this alone
Poor relique of the beawty, bone,
And that soe little we despaire
It ever dangling smil'd i'th' aire.
Soe must that faire face of yours
(As this looking-glasse assures)
Faile and scarce leaue to be showne
There ever lived such a one.
And when an other age shall bring
Your leane scalp to sensuring
Though the Sextons truly sweare
Here Jemmonia's titles were
In this rag'd Escutcheon
Most maye smile, beleiue will none,
Or their thought of faith may growe
But to this, to think 'twas soe.
This lesson you must pearse to' th'truth
And know (faire mistris) of yor youth
Death with it still walkes along
From Mattins to the Euensong,
From the Pickaxe to the spade,
To the tombe wher't must be layd.
Whether in the morne or noone
Of yor beawty death comes soone
And though his visage hung i'th' eare
Doth not to the sight appeare
At each warning hees as much
Know, to' th'hearing as the touch.
Place then this mirror whose briske hue
[OMITTED]
Of lines and colors make them scorne
This livery wch the greeke hath worne
Let them read this booke and learne
Their ayry coulors to discerne,
Twixt this and them this Gorgon showne
Turnes the beholders into stone.

[Epitaph on the Tomb of Sir Edward Giles and his wife in the South Aisle of Dean Prior Church.]

No trust to Metals nor to Marbles, when
These have their Fate, and wear away as Men;
Times, Titles, Trophies, may be lost and Spent;
But Vertue Rears the eternal Monument.
What more than these can Tombs or Tomb-stones Pay?
But here's the Sun-set of a Tedious day:
These Two asleep are: I'll but be Vndrest
And so to Bed: Pray wish us all Good Rest.