Poems consisting of Epistles and Epigrams, Satyrs, Epitaphs and Elogies, Songs and Sonnets ::

Poems consisting of Epistles and Epigrams, Satyrs, Epitaphs and Elogies, Songs and Sonnets

With variety of other drolling Verses upon several Subjects. Composed by no body must know whom, and are to be had every body knows where, and for somebody knows what [by John Eliot]

Eliot, John

[epigraph]

[section]

To the Great in Worth and Merit as in Honour and Title, the Lady happily Marchioness of Winchester, humbly these.

To the Censorious Reader.

To the Courteous Reader.

To his Book.

To the jealous Reader.

To the Printer, if these papers should unhappily come to the Press.

To the Stationer if need be.

To the punctual Poets.

A Satyr. To the Times time-serving Poets.

A Court-Prodigall.

An Old Unthrift.

To a great Lord that upbraided his Servant with Poverty.

To his reconciled Enemy

Upon a Fool that was angry at his evil Fortune.

Upon a Fellow that fear'd he should run mad for his Mistresse.

Upon a Highway Thief.

Of one that was burnt in the Hand.

Upon a Ladies Tailor turnd out of service, having been long her Favourite.

Upon his unkinde Kinred.

A Gardner and his Wife.

A peremptory Gold-smiths Wife.

A Courteous Chambermaid.

To one that entreated the Author to write some Verses to a Book that he had going to the Press.

The Author upon his Epigrams.

To the truly Honourable and antiently Noble Benefactor the Lord Dunkelly, Vicecount Tunbridg,

To the most deservedly beloved and honoured the the Lady Viscountess Tunbridge.

An Epigram Humbly presented to his Majestie upon Release of a prisoner that was committed for making Libellous Verses.

To his Noblest Friend Mr. Endimion Porter upon Verses writ by Ben. Johnson.

For Mistress Porter on a New years day.

To his loved Friend Mr. Davenat, upon his Verses to the well-deserving both his, and all others praises the vertuous Mistress Porter.

An Epigram, To his Friend Ben Johnson, upon his Libellous Verses against the Lords of the Green-Cloath concerning his Sack.

To Ben Johnson again, upon his verses dedicated to the Earl of Portland, Lord Treasurer.

An Epitaph upon the chast and fair Lady Walsingam.

The first Coppie.

The Second Coppie.

A great Lady presented the said Lord Treasurer with a silver skreene having these following verses ingraven about it, made by this Author at her request.

The same Lady presented his Majestie the Queens Picture, in a Square table, wrought with a needle so artificially, as the most Skilfull Painter could not have better'd it, and at the 4 corners were the names of his Majesties fower kingdomes, with these verses made by the same Author.

Mrs. Sanderson her Majesties Laundress presented a Celler of empty glasses to her Majestie.

An Elogie. On the Lady Jane Paulet Marchioness of Winchester daughter to the right honorable the Lord Savage of Rock-savage.

To the Citie Sarjeants.

A City Hangman.

To a Lady Majoress.

An Aldermans wife

To the great Mistress of my humble Muse the Lady Honora, happily as deservedly Marchioness of Winchester.

To his best of friends, and so the best deserver of his best respects Sir Edward Bushell knight.

To his honoured kinsman Sir. Gregory Fenner knight.

A complaint to one of his friends to whom the Author sent a coppie of verses which were printed without his consent or knowledge.

A new made Lord.

A new made Countess.

A Lord that vsed to swear by his honour before his pattent was sealed.

To a great Lady of little worth, that used to say she could eat the Author, if he were worth the eating.

Upon a proud painted upstart Lady.

Upon her Chamber-maid.

Upon a Maide of honour that went into the country to take the ayr.

Upon her chamber-maid.

Upon a Lady that went to Tunbridge wells.

A Footman turn'd Gentleman Usher.

Upon a coy countrey Lass

Upon the same proud fool turn'd Courtiour.

A quarrell between two Court Chamber-maids.

A Court Baud.

To her Coadjutor.

To an honorable Lady that sometimes grac't the author with the name of servant, and afterwards neglected him.

To the same honorable Lady suspecting her servants secrecie.

A just Complaint to his Just as Honourable Patrones against a Sorcerer, that by his Inchantments depraves her humblest Servant of her Grace.

To the truly honourable the Lord Paulet Marquess of Winchester.

To the same noble Lord again.

To the far fam'd Lady, and Mistres of untainted vertue, the truly and nobly noble Ladie Dorathy Sherly honoured by being Sister to the most deservedly honourable Earl of Essex.

A Satyr. Upon a miraculous Marriage, made between a Brave Young Viscount, and an unworthy Old Viscounts Widow.

Upon a Coller and Garter imprisoned in a Brokers Box.

Another upon the same subject.

Upon the same again.

A Sonnet upon the same subject.

To a Ladies Chambermaid.

An Atheist, a Poet, and a Puritan.

A Papist, a Protestant, and a Puritan.

A pestilent profest Puritan.

An ignorant obstinate Brownest.

A Ladies Roses that ever lookt rusty.

Upon a Ladies Roses that were always fresh.

The Fidlers that were committed for singing a Song called, The clean contrary way.

A Lady walking with the Author in her Garden, pluckt a sprig of Bayes, and put it in his Hat to wear as her Favour.

The Author intending to write upon the Duke of Buckingham, when he went to fetch the Queen, prepared a new Ballad for the Fidlers, as might hold them to sing between Dover and Callice.

A Song.

A Song in praise of Sack.

A Song.

A Sonnet.

On Loves blindeness.

An Elogie on the Death of Love.

A Song.

On the Duke of Buckinghams Death. An Elogie.

An exortation for the battering down of those vanities of the Gentiles which are comprehended in a May pole written by a Zealous brother from Blackfryers.

Epithalamium. Upon the Celebration of the happy Nuptials of T. L. Esquire, and his Lady.

To the Lord Chamberlain.

Upon leaving off mourning for his Mistres.

An Elegy on the death of a schoole-Master.

A Catch.

On a woman haveing two Husbands.

On an Elder Brother.

On a proud beggar.

A Courtship betwixt a man and a woman.

On women, of what stuff they are made.

The lash A song.

To his freind on the death of his Mistres, immediatly before the intended marriage.

To his friend. Mr. B. archd: of N.

On Mistres Angel wife to Master John Angel preacher of Leicester, deceasing at Bath.

Collapse All | Expand All expand section

116

A Courtship betwixt a man and a woman.

Man.
Why so fast away my dear,
Is't because that I am here?
Will you ever
Still persever
Thus to fly me
And deny me?
Shall it be my hard misfortune,
Or a punishment to folly
To like, to love, and to importune
Yet still languish
In the anguish
Of despair and melancholly?

Wom.
Fond man, forbear, enjoy thy quiet,
Know, I am not for thy diet,
You can tell, Sir
Very well Sir,
What's my minde
Then be kinde
To your selfe, and let me go,
For in vain you hope to see
My spotless honours overthrow;
Then be chast,
That thou may'st
Preserve us both from infamy:

117

Man
Why will you so cruell be
Both to thy self, and unto me,
Heavenly Creature,
In that feature
Will you treasure
So much pleasure,
And put it up from mans embraces,
Be less fair, or be more kinde,
Let those temptings of thy face
Suddenly
Fade and die,
Else let me be stricken blinde,

Wom.
Thus we shall be flattered, till
Your ends are compast to your will,
Then you leave us
And deceive us.
Once undone us
You will shun us;
You may range about, and alter
Each houre, you meet a new one; we
May not do so; since men thus falter,
Ere I love you
I will prove you,
Lest I loose my liberty:

Man
What can move your thoughts to be
Jealous of my constancy

118

Let me know it,
I will shew it
If unjust
Try, then trust?
Were my breast of crystall made,
There you might my heart espy,
That never yet true love betray'd
There you might
Read the white
Charrecters of loyalty:

Wom.
I! so you tell me, but I know
How farr an ounce of aire will go,
If I thought
There were ought
Truely meant,
And hearty in't,
I were cruell then indeed;
Women can be kind, as mothers,
But they must their bounty heed,
Cause given, we
Never can be
Our own again, nor any others:

Man
'Tis unjust, to doubt, where we
No ground for our suspition see:

Wom.
Shall I doubt,

Man
We'l kiss it out.
Next Ile rifle

Wom.
What Man A trifle,

119

Which though I purchace with delight,
I shall get no more, then you,
Since neither wins, nor looseth by't.

Wom.
I am won then.

Man
I ha' done then,
Yet we still have have more to do.

University of Virginia Library

A Courtship betwixt a man and a woman.