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University of Virginia Library

The Muses Melody in a Consort Of Poetry

With Diverse occasionall and Compendious Epistles. Composed by the Author Tho. Jordan

Jordan, Thomas (1612?-1685?)

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On a Citizen that was so unreasonably jealous of his wife, that he durst not trust her with the neerest in blood of her own kindred.

Peccavi, to a vertuous Lady, who was vitiously solicited by a Gentleman whilst she was in her mourning.

On handsome women that will marry fools.

An Apology to a coy Lady for a passionate Letter which a Gent. writ to her when she returned back to him a Diamond which he before had presented.

On a cruel Creditor.

Defence composed for his friend Mr. Th. Ea. who ignorantly had perswaded some Gentlemen his friends to wash their faces with Mercury, one of them being an elect Bridegroom, the night immediately before the Nuptials, who the next day were much blistered with the venome, and he much accused by the Ladyes, as if it had been done on purpose.

An Ode composed for three voices, at a celebration of the Birth-day of the much honoured G. D. Gent. on Novemb. 29.

A Vote to the much honored Thomas Bridges, Merchant in Alderman-bury London, and to his most vertuous wife.

An Epitaph on a scold.

On Jack Summer, who with two shillings, won twenty pounds of Captaine Swallow.

An Epitaph on Mr. Will. Lawes Batchelor in Musick, who was mortally shot at the siege of Westchester.

A Defence for Musick in its Practique and Theorick, Dedicated to all Lovers of Harmony, but more especially to the much honored

A Banquet of Discord, dish'd up and dedicated to all lovers of Confusion, and contemners of Concord.

An Epigram on a Mad-man.

A meer Souldiers Resolution, written by his own direction in the yeer 1642.

An Elegie and Epitaph, in two Acrosticks, composed on the pious memory of Mistress Grace Drayton, late wife to William Drayton Gentleman, unto whom she was marryed the 20 of January 1652, and deceased the 20 of June 1653.

To his disdainful Mistress, from whom he receiv'd a Repulse at the presentment of his service to lead her by the Arm in the street.

On Mrs. Howlet, and Mrs. Boone.

To a Black-moor that had married a deformed Spanish woman, and was jealous of an English Gentleman.

An Epitaph on a Prisoner for Debt, who dyed of Feaver in the Counter.

A Bull made Sense.

On Cavaliers wearing of much Ribbon.

A Congratulatory to the bountiful Lover of the Liberal Sciences, Sir Thomas Prestwich Baronet.

To Coll. Washington, on his word Away with't, &c Composed in 1643.

On a Lay-Preacher.

To the great lover and protector of Honor and Sciences Sir Henry Newton Knight, &c.

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To his disdainful Mistress, from whom he receiv'd a Repulse at the presentment of his service to lead her by the Arm in the street.

I shall give truth the lye, and must engage
In your defence the Pens of this whole Age,
Not to acknowledge that your form and features
Make you shine brightest 'mongst the best of Creatures.
He that surveys your Person with my Sense
Shall meet (at once) Light, Heat, and Influence;
Yet where you scorn, Experience bids me say,
You raise December in the midst of May.
The Chairs of State, the Scepters, Thrones, and Crowns
Of Life and Death are in your smiles and frowns,
This truth I freely vent, although you crack
The sinews of my soul upon the rack
Of undeserv'd displeasure, I must needs
Confess, all Vertue in your bosom breeds;
You are the mirror of all worth: Yet why
(If I may so capitulate) must I
For some offence unacted, or unknown,
Be tortur'd thus under the frigid Zone
Of your contempt? What have I done that can
Devest me of that Priviledge which Man
And manners justly claim? What is in me
So opposite unto civility,
That you should scatter your disdains upon
The soft Address of my Devotion?

Why should the bared Head, and bended Knee
Of faithful service meet such nicety?
You make me doubt my self, and wonder what
Great Error (like an Attom or a Gnat)
I am accus'd of; whether I did stand
Right with my Legs, or gave you the wrong Hand:
Whether my Gloves were on, or I did err
In wearing some unbutton'd Handkercher:
Which of these hainous sins it is, I can
No more conceive then a deceased man.
Pray manifest the Cause, and let me know
What is the cruel Author of my woe,
That I may curb the Love which did intrude,
And (for the future) cease to be so rude
With such Perfection; I will let the world
(To my own scorn) know why my hopes are hurl'd
From your bright Mercy: they shall understand
It is like Sacriledge to kiss your hand,
And that to Arm you brings as bad a fate,
As to be found in Arms against the State.