Ayres and dialogues :: :: University of Virginia Library

Each Poet now to his own words
(With merit) Admiration brings,
And as thou dost divide the Chords,
Is led thy Captive in the Strings:
Rapt with a Musick more then dwels
In Numerous falling Syllables.

II

He thinks his Sonnet now a Charm,
And that 'tis safe to shut the Ear;
But that he fears the greater harm
Would be, to be debarr'd to hear:
Then doth the Antick Proverb mock,
And Syrens find without a Rock.

III

Sure Harmony thee through hath Lin'd
And all thy Organs doth inspire;
That (Instruments) one way inclin'd,
Do from their Functions breath in Quire:
At least thy Brest hath Tuned been,
And all the Fibra's Chime within.

Eldred Revet.

To his Honest Friend and Old Acquaintance Mr. John Gamble; upon his Musical Compositions, on several Poems.

Let the dull Drum and shril Fife silent be,
Whilst we attend his Vocal Harmonie;
Where Word and Note in Complication roll,
Like twisted Twylight, or the Sense and Soul:
Here each insinuating Note doth grow
One with the Word as waters mix and flow;
A well form'd freeborn Fancy may from hence
Hear the Word sing, and every Note speak sense:
They both consent as Lovers woo by winks
When thoughts agree, One speaks what th'other thinks;
The sliding Notes so intricately creep,
Some times you'd think, they howl, sing, smile and weep:
The lineaments of Passions are here drawn
As visibly as pictures behind lawn;
In these few Amorets is all compact
The Sense can suffer, or the Soul can act:
The Ayre and language grow as much the same,
As several materials make one flame;
With so much aptitude and prompt connexion,
As red and white comply in a Complexion.

Love-Songs will make you sigh when you come near 'em,
And Tavern Toyes make Creeples dance to hear 'em:
Where like some straight, although indented border,
Each reeling Note doth stagger into order.

He that dislikes this Piece, must (it appears)
Confess he wants both Intelect and Ears;
And may most properly be ranck'd with they
Who verily can neither Sing nor Say.

Thomas Jordan.

A DEFENCE FOR MUSICK In its Practique and Theorie, occasioned upon the Publication of these Poems Composed by Mr. John Gamble :

IMPLORATION.

Empress of Order! Whose Eternal Arms
Put Chaos into Concord, by whose Charms
The Cherubims in Anthems clear, and Even,
Create a Consort for the King of Heaven:
Inspire me with thy Magick, that my Numbers
May rock the never-sleeping Soul in slumbers;
Tune up my Lyre, that when I sing thy Merits
My subdivided Notes may sprinkle Spirits
Into my Auditory, whilest their fears
Suggest their Souls are sallying through their Ears.
What Tropes, or Figures can thy Glories reach,
That art thy self the splendor of all Speech?
Mysterious Musick! he that doth thee right
Must shew thy Excellence by thy own Light:
Thy Purity must teach us how to Praise,
As men seek out the Sun with his own Rayes:
What Creature that hath being, life or sense,
But wares the Badges of thy Influence?
Musick is Harmony, whose Copious bounds
Is not confined onely unto Sounds:
'Tis the Eyes object, for (without Extortion)
It comprehends All things that have Proportion:
Musick is Concord, and doth hold allusion
With every thing that doth oppose Confusion:
In Comely Architecture it may be
Known by the Name of Uniformitie;
Where Piramids to Piramids relate,
And the whole Fabrick doth Configurate
In perfectly proportion'd Creatures, we
Accept it by the title Symmetrie.
When many Men for some design Convent,
And all Concenter, It is call'd Consent:
Where mutual Hearts in Sympathy do move
Some few embrace it in the Name of Love:

But when the Soul and Body do agree
To serve their God, it is Divinitie:
In all melodious Compositions we
Declare and know it to be Symphonie:
Where all the Parts in Complication roll,
And every one Contributes to the Whole:
He that can Set and Humour Notes aright
Will move the Soul to Sorrow, to Delight,
To Courage, Courtezie, to Consolation;
To Love, to Gravity, to Contemplation:
It hath been known (by its mysterious motion)
To raise Repentance, and advance Devotion:
It works on all the faculties, and why
The very Soul it self is Harmony:
Musick! It is the breath of second Birth,
The Saints imployment, and the Angels Mirth;
The Rhetorick of Seraphins, a Gem
In the King's Crown of new Jerusalem;
They sing Continually, the Exposition
Must needs inferre, there is no Intermission.
I hear some Men hate Musick, let them shew
In Holy Writ what else the Angels do:
Then those that do despise such sacred Mirth
Are neither fit for Heaven nor for Earth.

Thomas Jordan.

[_]

The following poems are scored for music in the source text. Where poems are not stanzaic, no attempt has been made to reconstruct the metrical lines. Variations for different voices have been ignored.

A Tempest.

Help Love, or else I sink

Help Love, or else I sink; for know, he best can help that causeth woe; help then, and with thy smoother palm, the fury of my passion calm: Succeeding tears in billows rise, as there were Seas met in my eyes; My sighes united proudly grown, as the four winds combin'd in one; Hark how they rore, my sighs and tears, sure have conspir'd to tempt my fears; See how they swell, now they are met, and ev'n a tempest do beget; it shakes my Bark, her Ribs do crak, and now my fears a

wrack: Help Love for pity then I pray, ere my poor heart be cast-away.

The Rebbel.

Love! no, I am not such a foe to my peace

Love! no, I am not such a foe to my peace, prethee cease, say no more, though her Eyes are the skies, where Love flies, and inveagles all the Eagles, that in his aerie sore: I dare not fly in her sky, tis too high, once her frown threw me down so low, that I swore, never more, in a Sun beam to soare, Love and I will each other never know.

He brings such woe with him, nought can exceed 'm; Souls do in sorrow swim, and tears do feed 'm; that every sense is dim, to peace and freedome: Eye me, try me, can you deny me? thus he betrayes the wise: But if you to his bow do bow, your soul becomes a sacrifice; Fiers, Miers, Brooks and Briers, kinder are than he: Then shake him off with scorn and scoff, sing and drink sack with me.

Love Surpris'd

O Cloris! 'twas unkindly done

O Cloris! 'twas unkindly done, first to invade me with your Eyes; and when my yielding heart was won, then to begin your tyrannies; The generous Lion straight grows meek, and gently spares the fawning Chase, but the submissive wretch may seek in vain for pity from that Face; Where while inchanting Syrens sing, th'alured Mariner is wrackt, so whirling gulfs destruction bring, and overwhelm what they attract.

Admired Beauty.

I am no Pris'ner sure, nor can it be

I am no Pris'ner sure, nor can it be, when such rare Beauty comes to visit me: The free and uncontroled Air's confin'd, more than my mind, when it reflects upon those beams that lately in my prison shon; that glorious Angel which was sent to free the captive Saint, more bright Divinity brought not with him, than in this darksome place, from Atalanta's face brake forth and ravish'd me, with adoration of that Deitie: Blest Atalanta, may that powerful spring of Beauty

in thy Cheeks ne'r die, but bring thee more Idolaters: May the faction now see in thy Brow their errors, and repent, that thought it sin to worship such a Saint.

On Celia.

[I]

Were Celia but as chaste as fair,
How could I kiss the snare,
And never be
Weary of my Captivitie!
But she's a Whore that cools my blood;
Oh that she were less handsome, or more good.

II

Would you believe that there can rest
Deceit within that Breast,
Or that those Eyes
Which look like friends are onely spies:
But she's a Whore; yet sure I lie.
May not their be, degrees of Chastitie.

III

No, no, what means that wanton smile,
But onely to beguile;
Thus did the first
Of Women make all men accurst;
I for their sakes give Women o're,
The first was false, the fairest was a Whore.

Loves Theft.

Love still a Child a Bee persues

Love still a Child a Bee persues, whose thighs hung with fresh morning dews, perfumes the aire, and alures the Wag, to spoil him for his Honey bag; they grapple, the Bee stings the Elfe, he to his Mother flies to moan himself: She smil'd and sayes, Do not complain my Child, but learn by thy just pain, how many a wretched Lovers heart th'hast stung unjustly with thy Dart; and that till th'hast the grace to be more pitiful, none ought to pity thee.

A Calme.

Cease Warring Thoughts

Cease Warring Thoughts, and let his Brain no more discord entertain, but be smooth and calm again; Ye Christal Rivers that are nigh, as your Streams are passing by, teach your murmurs Harmony; Ye Winds that wait upon the Spring, and perfumes to Flowers do bring, let your Amorous whispers here, breath soft Musick to his ear; Ye warbling Nightingals repair from every Wood to charm this air; and with the wonders of your brest, each striving to excel the rest, when it is time to 'wake him, close your Parts, and drop down from the Trees with broken hearts.

On Man's frailty.

Short as this Hour, and brittle as that Glass

Short as this Hour, and brittle as that Glass, is Life, whose cares those sands in number pass: If with this present Hour those cares conclude, turn but the Glass, and they are all renew'd: Those sands not much exceed a handful, yet each minute brings a load of griefs with it: Oh! how unhappy is the Reck'ning then betwixt the Sorrow and the Hours of Men? But when Death finds fit time with his pale dart to break Lifes thin walls, and transpeirce the Heart; this Care-stuff'd carcase, in the grave being thrust,

will moulder, and become a heap of dust. Study this Embleme, and that lets thee see what now thou art, and shalt hereafter be.

The Haymaker's Song.

[I]

The morning doth wast,
To the Medowes lets hast,
For the Sun doth with glory shine on them;
The Maidens must Rake
Whilest the Haycocks we make,
Then merrily tumble upon them.

II

The envy of Court
Ne'r aims at our sport,
For we live both honest and meanly;
Their Ladies are Fine,
But to Venus encline,
And our Lasses are harmless and clenly.

III

Then let us advance
Our selves in a dance,
And afterwards fall to our labour;
No measure so meet
Nor Musick so sweet,
To us as a Pipe and a Tabor.

Advice to Cloris.

[I]

Cloris forbear a while,
Do not o're-joy me,
Urge not another smile
Lest it destroy me:
That Beauty pleaseth most,
And is best taking,
Which soon is won,
Soon lost, kind, yet forsaking:
I love a Coming Lady, faith I do,
But now and then I'de have her scornful to.

II

O're-cloud those Eyes of thine,
Boo-peep thy features,
Warm with an April shine,
Scorch not thy Creatures;
Still to display thy ware,
Still to be fooling,
Argues how rude you are
In Cupids Schooling;
Disdain begets a smile, scorn draws us nigh,
'Tis cause I would, and cannot, makes me try.

III

Cloris I'de have thee wise
When Gallants view thee,
And Court do thou dispise,
Fly those pursue thee;
Fasts move an appetite,
Makes hunger greater;
Whose stinted of delight
Fals to't the better:
Be coy and kind by turns, be smooth and rough,
And buckle now and then, and that's enough.

The Exile.

[I]

Have you observ'd the Hermet
When he runs his weary race,
Without a home like other men,
But walks from place to place?
Look then on me, whom grief makes tame;
My wandring fortunes are the same,
Known onely by another name.

II

Or have you seen a helpless man,
Pursu'd from Town to Town;
Whose guilt from honesty began,
And loyalty to th'Crown?
'Mongst untrod Thorns have you bin lead,
Or seen a tumbl'd Sick-mans Bed?
Such places for such faults I tred.

III

Like him that is confin'd to be,
Close Prisoner all his dayes;
Or cloy'd with too much libertie,
Or banish't sundry wayes:
Although my patience scorns to grutch,
Yet my intemperate state is such
Plagu'd with too little, or too much.

IV

Have you beheld the sick estate
Of seperated Doves?
So 'tis with mee, so with my Mate,
But crueller it proves:
Yet why so angry have I been,
Since in these latter dayes there's seen,
Such difference 'twixt the King and Queen.

V

But since the Law alowes no Love,
And Tyranny so reigns,
We will implore the Powers above
To ease us of our pains:
Then let there be with one intent,
Petitions unto Cupid sent;
Never to call a Parliament.

Loves Theft.

[I]

Know my Dear Idol Cloris, that all zealous,
Here at thine alter I would prostrate stay;
But common morn of every houre jealous,
To my disaster brings the Star of day:
Cloris farewell, Oh! let me dying vanish;
Day-light is come, my delight hence to banish.

II

Why with such fi'ry speed incessant driver,
Bring'st thou a light that obscures Lovers Skyes,
Controul thy Race, keep back thy Beamie-Quiver,
What needs more day, then shoots from these fair Eyes.
Cloris farewell, &c.

III

Trusty Night that in favour of close Lovers,
Friendly displayes thy securing Veils,
Fright back pale Morn; tell her thy shady covers
Can light us back to Love's secret assails.
Cloris farewell, &c.

IV

Can it be, ye gods, whom I importune,
That this dayes birth should make Loves Morning dye?
And this first dawn of my yet tender fortune
Must it make wings, before fledg'd Night doth fly.
Cloris farewel, Oh! let me dying vanish,
Day-light is come, my delight hence to banish.

A Health to Bacchus.

[I]

Bring us up some Sack and Claret,
Clean Pipes, and the best Varinus,
Weel swell our Veins,
And wash our Brains,
And Tom shall smoak his wry nose:
Then to Bacchus wee
With merry glee,
Whilest round our Cups are turning,
Will sacrifice
This Indian Spice on
These white Altars burning.

II

'Tis nought to Bleed to death Sir,
We'l therefore talk no treason;
But with this Provission,
And Amunition,
Beat down the Fort of Reason:
Still will we drink,
Make our Arms cry clink,
Be free without Commanding;
Discharge the Can,
Till every man
Bid good-night too's Understanding.

Coyness in Love.

[I]

Nay prethee do be Coy, and slight me;
I must love, though thou abhor it;
Thy pretty Niceness doth invite me;
Scorn me, and I shall love thee for it:
That world of Beauty that is in you,
Ile overcome like Alexander;
In Amorous flames I will continue,
Unsindg'd like any Salamander.

II

Do not be won too soon I prethee,
But let mee woe while thou do'st fly mee,
'Tis my delight to dally with thee,
I'le court thee still if thoul't deny mee;
I've fresh supplyes on all occasions
Of thoughts as various as your Face is;
No Directory for Evasions,
Nor will I woe by Common-places.

III

My hearts with Antidotes provided,
Nor will I dye when you frown on mee;
I'm merry when I am derided,
Now laugh at mee, I think 'tis on mee:
'Tis fancy only makes your pleasures,
Nor have they being, but conceited;
And when we come to dig those treasures,
We see our selves, our selves have cheated.

Then if thour't minded to destroy me,
Love mee much, and love me ever;
I'le love the more, so thou may'st slay mee,
And I'm thy Martyr then or never.

A Schismatick in Love.

[I]

Mistake me not, I am not of that mind,
To hate all Women kinde;
Nor can you so my patience Vex,
To make my Pen Blaspheme your Sex:
Or with my Satyres bite you;
Yet there are some in your free State,
Some things in those who are Candidate;
That he who Loves, or is himself, must hate;
Yet I'le not therefore slight your
For I'm a Schismatick in Love,
And what makes men adore it?
In me does more affection move,
I love the better for it.

II

I vow I am so far from loving none,
That I Love every one;
If Fair, or Neat, I must, if Brown she be,
She's Lovely, and for sympathie;
'Cause we're alike I love her:
If Tall, she's Proper; and if Short,
She's humble, and I love her for't;
Small, Pretty; Fat is pleasant; ev'ry Sort
Some gracefull good discover:
If Young, she's plyant to the Sport,
And though her Vlsage carry
Gray Hairs and wrinkles; yet I'le court,
And so turn Antiquary.

III

Be her Hair Red, be her Lips Gray, or Blew,
Or any other hue;
Or has she but the Ruins of a Nose,
Or but Eye-sockets, Ile Love those;
Though Skales, not Skin doth cloath her;
Though from her Lungs, the Sent that comes
Does Rout her Teeth; out of her Gums
Ile count all those for high Encomiums,
Nor will I therefore loath her;
There are no Rules for Beauty, but
'Tis as Fancy makes it,
Be you but kind, I'le say you're Fair,
And all for truth shall take it.

Love pretended.

[I]

Ile sware they lye who say they love
One onely Beautious Face;
He's mad or honest does not prove a
Score in three dayes space:
I'm a-la-mode my selfe, pretend that
I am here all over Love, and there could dye;
When faith ther's no such matter seriously.

II

Most Earnest Love is but in Jest,
Ladies are cheated all;
I've now a Thousand Girdles at least,
That do me Servant call;
I've courted them alike, have vow'd and sworn
My flames of Love for all did burn;
But most for her, who best will serve my turn.

III

And yet I'le swear I've been as true,
As Constant every way;
As those who colour for't in blew
And Cupids prises play;
Shew me the Lad who best Love feats can do,
I'le do as much as him, perhaps more too;
Yet never Lov'd above an hour or two.

Love convinc'd.

[I]

When first before Rosella's Face I lay,
I thought it heresie to look astray
From her Divinity;
But now I have let loose my eyes,
I'm glutted with varieties;
And see there are others
As fair that have Humanity:
So that her Face can now no passion move,
And I can live although she cannot love.

II

That every Charter which hath given her power
To look upon two Servants in an hour
Doth grant the same to me;
Nature did many Beauties make,
That men may at their pleasure take
And he that's wise
Will take his choice
In her whole Nurseire;
As Women have the Freedome, so have we,
For Cupid hath his Equitie.

III

Had I gaz'd on him still as heretofore,
And made a Conscience of Courting more,
How had I play'd the Sot,
I might have done as others do,
Received her Scorns and thank you too;
But now I see,
There are that be
Wretched, and know it not:
He that confines himself when he is Free,
Builds his own Jaol, and buyes his slavery.

Fortune Adored.

[I]

Let whining Lovers magnifie
Their little gods great Deitie,
My Love proof-heart
Defies his childish dart;
Nor will I humor any more
That Son of a Whore:
'Tis Fortune, Fortune onely I adore.

II

Then (Sacred Godesse) since I do,
Renounce all Deities for you,
Be kind and free,
Unto your Votarie;
Let my condition happy prove,
And so much above
Men's pity, that it may their envy move.

III

Or if I am decreed to be,
An Object of your Tyranie;
Let me not know,
What 'tis to Ebb and Flow:
Make me no more your Tennis-Ball,
But take away all,
That I may hope to rise, not fear to fall

Loves Passion.

[I]

What will become of me? I'm all
Chang'd to a weeping Hospital;
My Tongue (which once could speak)
Can say, nothing but Celia:
And Cupid too hath made me blind,
Lest I my stolen Heart should find;
Thus main'd before her do I lie,
Without a Tongue, a Heart, or Eye.

II

But see the Miracle, She's kind,
And doth my fettered Tongue unbind;
The Sun-shine of her Smile doth quite
Dispell the Meteors in my Sight;
And in an instant I recover
Heart enough to serve a Lover:
Thus when She list, She can recall
My Tongue, my Eyes, my Heart and all.

III

Then (Dearest Cælia) let me pay
Rent-kisses to thee every day;
They are Loves Peppercorns, and shew
I'm Tenant of my self to you;
Your Favour only must confirm
My Title, and enlarge my Term:
'Twill me a vast Subsistance give,
And you the Honour that I live.

Love Enlightned.

[I]

Welcom my heart, thou'st fondly stray'd
To find content in Widdow, Maid,
Or Woman-kind; whose wind-like change,
Now courteous, now perverse, and change
Their Loves designe, their Heat's a Fire
That ne'r decays, but still flames higher.

II

Their Business Pride, their Beauties shape
A Looking-glasse for th'amorous Ape
To spend himselfe, and Hours therein;
Their Court-ships, Garbes, but Fraud and Sin:
Say, say my Heart, Hast not this found,
And that there very Kisses wound?

III

Yes, yes, my Brest thence (taught) I fly
Back from that Syrian Company;
Who not lov'd, hate; if lov'd, despise;
If had, insult and tyranize:
Therefore I add, Blest is his Lot,
That will not know, and loves them not.

Love decyphered.

[I]

Love, Love I fly thy power, my fearful heart
How she may prove arms me against thy Dart;
And though I'm ignorant the Knowing say,
Thy Courtiers have more toilsome Cares then Play;
Therefore I'le hugg my Cave, and Live alone,
And love my Self better for loving none.

II

For what is Love, but th'Brat of fond Conceit,
Businesse, of Idleness a very Cheat?
They pay's our dream'd Eliziums, minutes Joys,
With years of perverss Humours, Fear a noyes:
Then welcome Cave, where Prayers and Tears shall prove
My active Businesse for Celestial Love.

III

Here calmly pensive pious Thoughts shall be
With my good Angell, my choice Companie
And Contemplation of those Joys above,
As the same fire shall dead the flames of Love;
The Spring my Drink, the Hearbs my Meat, this Cave
Shall be my Prison, Pallace, Church and Grave.

Love disguis'd.

[I]

Love in disguise the other day
Sought with sly cunning to betray
Some wandring Heart or other
With fair pretence, and Flateries Fine;
He came (alas!) and seis'd on mine,
But took it for another.

II

Now in his Chains I fettered lye,
But cannot tell for what, or why;
No Plaintiffe will declare;
Imprisonment I must imbrace
For doting on some killing Face
That will not now appear.

III

Clorinda too, soon as She heard
That I was Tain, had no regard,
But cast her Frowns to grieve me;
To satisfie her cold Disdain,
She lets me still live in my pain,
And will no more releive me.

Constancy.

[I]

Bllieve me Love, by those fair Eyes
That bless the World with light,
And to the blind give sight;
By this chast kiss, this pretious breath
That rescu'd my poor Heart from death,
It still remains thy conquer'd prise!

II

By Vertues felf, Enthron'd in thee,
For other Beauties were
But th'Figure of what's Rare;
No thoughts of change disturb my rest,
Whose heats consume, not warm the brest,
There's no content like constancie!

III

Yet should'st thou not continue mine
As firm as when I first
Love in my bosome Nurst;
I would the Bastard banish thence,
Though yet the Child of Innocence,
And prove him humane, not divine.

IV

Did not thy fires preserve my flame,
It should dispersing fly,
Like sparks at every eye
With wanton liberty should range,
And every minute covet change,
Till it disolv'd Loves holy frame

V

Then till thy fancy change thy minde,
If I without offence
May doubt such Innocence?
My love shall be so purely free,
From loose thoughts of disloyaltie;
It shall teach Turtles to be kind.

The Cheat.

[I]

Whit a Pox dost thou muse on? Boy, give us the Wine,
The Saint in that shrine
Must not be prophan'd;
The persecuted Sack is
The thing we do lack,
Whose Auspicious slight,
Makes our heads and hearts light,
That the fear of her loss had er'st ty'd up and chain'd.

II

Not a Relique of her but we ought to adore,
And prize it before
Those Tell-tales of Time;
True, Ellen and Lucy
Were Saints, but not Juicy;
And Winifreds-Well
Bears no sound of a Spell;
If it had, some had written her Acts more sublim.

III

Know the Time will come, Sirrah, as it was of yore,
A Dram and no more
Must serve such a Clown;
Let then hes welcome ring-Boys;
'Tis her flight bring us joy Boys,
Whose Patience is such
She doth not care how much
We of her do consume, be but true to the Crown.

IV

'Tis the flavour of this makes the Miter to stand,
The Crown to comand,
The Mare-maid to sing;
Makes the Motes in the Sun
Like to Ganimeds run,
The Fleece-Coats with Gold,
And the Seaven Stars uphold,
'Tis her Influence makes the Twelve Houses to ring.

V

Then drink, fall, and adore her, 'tis fit we shoul be
More humble then she
Hath travel'd for us;
Let's the Convoy then bless,
And the Merchant no less,
To'th Vintner a Health
Who from them got by Stealth,
This Jem, with intension to barter with us.

To Phelicia.

[I]

Pphelicia , since that I find thee
True to thy self, and just to me,
Ne'r fear their deposing:
For those Repelling Looks of thine
Must keep thee safe, securely mine,
'Gainst our Fates opposing.

II

No matter though thy Votaries
Complain how thou dost tyranize,
And do resolve to storm
Thy Beauties Citadell; Be wise,
Thou art beyond their subtilties
Thus circled in my arme.

III

Should they with factious force rebell,
Their faith and loyalties (too) sell;
'Tis what we must expect;
For when at first they did pretend
A duty, 'twas for their own end,
And treachery in effect.

IV

So such as have desire of power
Think other government too sower,
And preach up libertie;
Till they into the stirrup get,
And mounted are by others wit
It'h place they did defie.

V

Nay, though they swear they'l make thee far
More glorious then the Eastern Star,
Know, such as swear will lye;
And 't hath been prov'd in tricks of State
When they have got as they would ha 't,
Now have at all, they cry.

VI

Then dearest, in thine own hands keep
That power that will preserve thy sleep
Against conspiracie,
Let thy majestick frowns repell
All trecherous hearts that would rebell,
But keep thy smiles for me.

The Presbyters Gill.

[I]

Hang the Presbyters Gill
Bring a Pint of Sack Will
More Orthodox of the two;
Though a slender dispute
Will strike the Elfe Mute,
He's one of the honester Crew.

II

In a Pint there's small heart;
Sirrah, bring us a Quart;
Their's substance and vigour met,
'Twill hold us in Play
Some part of the Day,
But wee'l sink him before Sun-set.

III

The dating old Pottle
Does now bid us Battaile,
Let's try what his strength can do;
Keep your Ranks, and your Files,
And for all his Wiles
Wee'l tumble him down Stairs too.

IV

The Stout Brested Lumbard
His Brains ne'r incumbred
With drinking of Gallons three,
Trycongius was named,
And by Cæsar Famed,
Who dubbed him Knight Cap-a-pe.

V

If then Honour be in't,
Why a Pox should we slint
Our selves of the fulness it bears?
H'has less Wit than an Ape
In the Bloud of the Grape
Will not plunge himself o're Head and Ears

VI

Then Summon the Gallon,
A stout Foe, and a Tall one,
And likely to hold us to't;
Keep but Coyn in your Purse,
The word is Disburse,
I'le warrant he'l sleep at your foot.

VII

See the bold foe appears,
May he fall that him fears,
Keep you but close order and then,
Wee will give him the Rout
Be he never so stout,
And prepare for his Railying Agen.

VIII

Let's drain the whole Cellar,
Pipes, Buts, and the Dweller,
If the Wine flotes not the faster;
Will, when thou do'st slack us
By Warrant from Bacchus
Wee will Cane thy Tun-belly'd Master.

Loves Power.

Phelinia wept, and from her Eyes
The pearly dew did fall
Upon her Cheeks, then soon did rise
The Sun and drank up all;
A calm as sudden as the storm,
Which shew'd Love's equal force,
He could as well put on the form
Of Anger as Remorce:

Chor.

She wept for loss of pleasures past,
and smil'd to meet them at the last.

II

Love so inspir'd her every part,
That shee could Spirits raise;
And lay them with more ease and Art,
Then Boys crack Nuts at Plays:
With various Sceans of fresh delight
We spent a Summers-day,
Thou art my Son, in spight of Night,
Whil'st thou art up I'le stay:

Chor.—
But th'fancy I could not maintain,
And then she falls to whine again.

III

Oh fye, quoth she, can Love grow cold
In Thee, who's All-desire?
Or yet his Mother (never old)
In me want sprightly fire?
How can'st thou then so soon forsake
The Sweetness of my Love?
The Bare was straight brought to the stake,
But baited like a Dove.

Chor.—
With that she smil'd, and cry'd (my heart)
I wish that we may never part.

The Allegory.

[I]

As Plutarch doth write, (a man of known credit)
A Serpent there was had a mutinous Tail,
Rebell'd 'gainst the Head, that so oft had fed it,
And would not permit it to lead or prevail:
I'st not fit that by turns we Leaders should be?
Quoth the Tail, Follow me, as I've follow'd thee.

II

Now the Body being grown too strong for the Head,
Quoth the Head, Since it must be, then let it be so;
'Tis for quietness sake I yield to be lead,
Though I fear that from hence some danger will grow:
A thing so unnatural never was read,
As the Head to turn Tail, and the Tail to turn Head.

III

The Tail takes precedence as blindly leads on,
As deaf to the Reason the Head had it given;
It blusters along, and ne'r thinks upon
The straights thorough which, th'poor Head had been driven:
At last by an accident a Scean of woe,
The Head was destroy'd and the Tail perish'd too.

IV

A Monster like this, but of stranger conditions,
Ingender'd there was in the year Thirty nine;
Rebell'd 'gainst the Head, but with fawning Petitions,
To have it its right and its power to resigne:
This Monster, the truth on't to speak, was begot
'Twixt a Mungrel Parson, and that Witch the Scot.

V

So large and so mighty this Tail grew in length,
That where so e'r it came, it swept all before it;
There was no resisting so powerful a strength,
The Head at the last was forc'd to implore it:
All our Castles and Towns this Tail did subdue,
A sad tale to tell, but believe me 'tis true.

VI

Above seven years conflict this Head did indure
With that monsterous Tail, and the spawn it begot;
In which time scarce any mans life was secure,
Their Goods and their Cattle went all to the pot:
At last came a Champion with an Iron Flail,
And ended the strife 'twixt the Head and the Tail.

VII

The Head being departed, the Body began
To consult with the Tail what best was to do;
Saint George (quoth the Body) 'tis said was a man,
But what can this thing be that's called Saint O:
Why? he (quoth the Tail) was one of our rout,
And 'tis wondrous strange, he should turn Tail about!

VIII

But while they thus argu'd, in rush'd brave Saint O,
With courage more keen, then the sword that he wore;
Quoth he, You are vile things, not fit here to grow,
Such Fins in this place were ne'r known heretofore:
The blood and the fat of the Country doth feed you,
And high time it is I guess now to bleed you.

IX

Some say that this Tail wore the mark of a P;
O is a letter in rank known before it;
But it makes no matter, 'tis all one to me,
Save this, I'm sure the O had the more wit:
Their's no man so blind but may easily see,
H' has added unto his smal O, a tall P.

X

My story now ended, come, viva Saint George,
That old true blew Lad and Hospital Saint;
Bring a But of good Sack to fill up my gorge,
At this tale of Head and Tail I almost faint:
How e'r let it pass, if you study upon't
I hope you will neither make Head or Tail on't.

Sacks Uertue.

[I]

Ne'r trouble thy self at the Times, nor their Turnings,
Afflictions run Circular, and wheel about:
Away with thy murmuring and thy heart-burnings
With the Juice of the Grape wee'l quench the fire out;
Ne'r chain nor Imprison thy Soul up in sorrow,
What fails us to day may be-frind us to morrow;
Let us scorn our content from others to borrow.

II

Though Fortune hath left us, wee'l strive to regain her,
And Court her with Cups till her Favouret come;
Then we with a Courage untam'd will maintain her,
And silence the noice of the Enemies drumb:
We will fix her unto the man most deserving,
He'l keep her at work, as well as from starving;
She shall not hereafter be at her own carving.

To his Mistresse advising him from Wine.

[I]

How Dearest! Art thou weary of thy fame,
That thou wouldst banish that preserves my flame?
When I doe write on th'vigor of thine Eye,
A sprightly Glass of Sack I've standing by,
From whence my Pen takes life and speed: That smile
Of thine, thou ow'st to Sack for my fair guile.

II

That lively colour of thy Cheek and Lip,
From the rich Claret did my fancy sip;
And from the mantling sparks which thence arise,
I Metaphor'd those Cupids in thy Eyes:
From the Lov'd Grape I can create conceit
Enough to raise dejection to the—Seat

III

Of Honour:—'tis the Nepenthean Spring,
About the which the jolly Muses sing
Thy praises from my Verse: Oh! let me lack
All things else useful, so thou'lt give me Sack:
Thou may'st as well go bid me leave to live,
As have me leave the means which Life doth give:
Faith, leave my Wine, and Farewell Poetrie;
Forgetting which none will remember thee.

The Deceiving Mistress.

[I]

Thine Eyes shall be my Stars no more,
They have deceived me;
He madly doth his death implore,
That seeks from them securitie.

II

I thought they had been fix'd on me,
But wandring Lights they prove;
The more they are admir'd in thee,
The more they love to gad and rove.

III

As though they would out-vie the light
Contracted to the day;
Untill the glory of its sight
Some easie Hearts, (like mine) betray.

IV

Yet boast not of that cruel Art
That so out-witted mine;
For know, thou ne'r hadst got my heart,
Had I not more then hop'd for thine.

V

I see their's policy in Love,
The slower men come on;
The faster your desires do move,
'Tis Madness you to dote upon.

VI

For this sad truth I boldly tell,
Experience finds it such;
That had not I Lov'd half so well,
Thou hadst not hated me so much.

How to chuse a Mistress.

[I]

I would not wed the Creature that desires
To know the secrets of the Marriage-bed;
And to repell the fury of her fires,
Forsooth, in all haste must be married.

II

Nor she who by her Parents cruelty
Is made to loath her self, and cares not how
She is bestow'd, to Joy or Misery:
Ne'r minding Love nor Mariages strickt Vow.

III

Nor she who hath to any been a Stale,
And now with Frantick Resolution swears
The next that comes to Court her shall prevail,
Oh! such a peice would lug Love by the Ears.

Nor She that would be Wed to be made fine,
Thinking content should her attendant be;
Believing not to want what e're was mine;
Faith, such a Piece doth Love her self, not me.

Nor your half Matron of some thirty five,
Whose in good-law and good-sooths have worn out
Her Lips and Teeth, whose heart is but a Sive,
As fast as Love creeps in it goeth out.

Nor the green piece that weds for the Rings sake,
And other pretty things belonging to't;
The man that hath her must her Babies make,
And have a Fool and thousand plagues to boot.

Nor yet the serious Soul that doth imploy
Her whole day at her work, or pries into
The Cooks Affairs, in her there is small joy,
She'l Love me when She'as nothing else to do.

Now some will say, I cann't find such an one,
That is from one or all these follies free;
To such I answer, that they are unknown,
Unto thy worth, and ignorant of thee.

Jealousie.

The day that's lost ere scarcely shown,
Might rule eternally,
Did not the prerogative of Night
Insinuate a sov'raignty:
The Spring and Summer cropt ere blown,
With all their gaudy train,
Might ever season our delight,
Did not intruding Winter reign.

The Sea whose often Shipwracks strike
A fear into the Advent'rers mind,
Would safely harbour did no Storm
Engage its nature to the Wind:
All things in goodness would be like,
Did not their ills their differ'nce shew;
Beauty in freedome as in form,
And Nature no decaying know.

Youth dwell for ever on our Cheeks,
Did not the Iron hand of Age
Imprint a Ruine or disease,
Invade our healths and life Engage:
Man might possess as soon as seek,
The pleasures that do so entice;
But his own nature doth displease,
Else Earth had been a Paradise.

So, had not cruel Love crept in,
My heart had been from passion free;
And my content had been my own,
Not slav'd to sottish Jealousie:
But Love hath rais'd such war within,
It doth disturb my peaceful pores;
And Tyrant-like (Alas!) hath thrown
My Rest and Quiet out of dores.

The poor Scholar's Song.

[I]

What Creatures on Earth
Can boast freer mirth,
Less envy'd and loved than wee;
Though Learning grow poor
We scorn to implore
A gift but what's noble and free.

II

Our freedome of mind
Cannot be confin'd,
With Riches we're inwardly blest;
Nor Death nor the Grave
Our worths can deprave,
Nor Malice our Ashes molest:

III

When such Moles as you
Your own Earth shall mue,
And Worms shall your memory eat;
Our names being read,
Shall strike Envy dead,
And Ages our Worths shall repeat.

Upon Recovery of a fit of Sickness.

Tis true;
I did receive a Life from you:
For he's unjust
That shall deny the miracles thou dost:
When my poor Heart
Was ready to depart
This air, thou cam'st to visit me,
And brought'st me heavenly Surgerie
In either Eye.

But see,
This mercy's full of crueltie;
For I had paid
But one poor Life, had then my frame decay'd:
When now to please
Your Pride is a Disease
Past cure; for with each minute I
Suffer a Death, yet cannot dye;
'Tis Tyranny.

My Heart,
Whereon you practise all your Art;
You'l say's your own,
So Surg'ons torture ere their skill be shown:
If you'l devise
Mine to Anotomise,
That so you may advance your skill;
First be so kind as throughly kill:
My wish fulfill.

A Kiss.

[I]

When thou Ostella grac'd me with a Kiss,
It was conceiv'd it could not wound my Bliss,
Or discompose the Quiet I possest,
E're Love usurp'd the freedome of my breast;
But this I find, such Bliss, such Torment too,
I ne'r had felt, had I not fanci'd you.

II

That welcom'd Kiss shot fire at every part,
Till it had seiz'd the Chamber of my Heart;
And there surpriz'd the Virgin of Content
That ne'r knew Love before, or Detriment:
The Bee so leaves her sting, yet doth not know,
Mistaking thus where shee hath hurt or no.

III

Then when with Sighs and Tears I strive to kill
The Raging Heat, they but augment my ill;
The more I breath, the more the Flames aspire,
Love turns my Tears to Oyle to feed the Fire;
And when to you my Griefs I would impart,
Fear tyes my Tongue and Love enthrals my Heart.

IV

License my love Ostella then, and give
A Cure to that, else must not hope to live;
Nor glory in this conquer'd Heart of mine,
Pitie will make your Beauty more divine;
Soften your Heart like mine that doats on you,
Or teach me how to make mine Marble too.

His Mistriss bidding him make another choice.

[I]

Know Dearest 'twas no easie Art
Could so have conquer'd me,
My breast was proof against the Dart
Of any foe but thee:
And hadst thou wounded me with smiles,
Then cur'd me with a kiss,
I had contemn'd thy Sexes wiles as
Enemies to Bliss.

II

But having caught me in the snare,
I cann't with ease return;
Had others harmes made me beware
I might have left to burn:
But greedy of my misery,
I courted so my fate;
The Object spake all Love to me,
But the Effect on't hate.

III

No Beauty but thy own shall make,
Me sensible of wo;
For when I do the same forsake,
I must my bliss forego:
My heart shall never yield it self,
A prisoner, but to thee,
For no respect to praise or pelf,
Shall bribe my constancie.

IV

When thou shalt frame thy Throne of Bliss,
Look down on my sad heart;
And know for whose dear sake it is
Appointed so to smart:
When thou shalt find I prize thy joy
More then my own content;
What heart but thine could so destroy
A heart so innocent.

V

When thou shalt find my youth to waste,
My Loyalty indure;
And I no other joys do taste,
Then what thy hate doth sowre:
When thou shalt find I take delight
In nothing saving thee;
If pity would my Love requite,
Be kind to murther me.

VI

Till when my soul when 'tis most sad
Shall find the way to Sing
There is no comfort to be had,
But what thy Love must bring:
And if thy glories think it meet
I must thy Martyr be
When Natures watch hath left to beat,
Farewell Fair crueltie.

To a Mistress that thinks the Sight without other Injoyment is Love sufficient.

[I]

If thou intend'st only to try
The silent Courtship of the Eye,
Without the sense of what is good,
Which by Loves Fires are understood;
Command those Cupids to retire
Whose Darts are headed with Desire.

II

Forbid the union of our hands,
Each Amorous touch a heat commands;
Forbid our lips to meet and melt,
Where the pure sense of Love is felt:
Forbid thy Tongue to whisper Love,
That very word hath power to move.

III

Whose ardent breath infused, can
Raise courage in a dying man;
And through each Vein fresh heat restore,
That had been star'd with cold before:
So from thy Air such vigour came,
It curl'd my Heart into a flame.

IV

Forbid thy Cheeks to shew their Spring,
Forbid thy Nightingale to sing;
Forbid thy All and every part,
To shew so much their Mistriss Art:
For 'less thou keep'st those baits within,
They'l tempt an Anchorite to sin.

V

Yet should those excellences be,
Depriv'd their proper use in thee;
Men would be apt their faiths to pawn,
Th'art but a picture lively drawn:
One which each rude presumptuous Eye,
Admiring feasts as well as die.

VI

So I confess my flames may end,
And thou a shadow lose thy friend;
Unless thy fancy raise conceit,
Thou art my Mistriss counterfeit:
And so surveying each fair part,
I paint her figure in my Heart.

The Country Man's Life.

[I]

Who can boast a happiness
More compleatly sure then wee,
Since our harmless thoughts are drest
In a pure Simplicitie,
And chast Nature doth dispense
Here her Beauties Innocence?

II

Envie is a stranger here,
Blest Content our Boles do crown;
Let such slave themselves to fear
On whose guilt the Judge doth frown;
We from evill Actions are
Free as uncorrupted Air.

III

With the Turtles whisper Love,
With the Birds we practise Mirth;
With our harmless Kids we move,
And receive our food from Earth;
Nor do we disdain to be
Cloath'd with the Lambs Livery.

To a simple Coy Mistress.

What though I did swear your Eye
Had enough to take a Heart,
Yet from mine I will not part,
I have read Loves Sophistry:
For know, Proud, I ne'r was born
To endure your Sexes Scorn.

Though I you a Lilly swore,
Yet the Violets azur'd hue
Is for use more priz'd than you:
Nor will I those Lips adore,
Since the Cherries trees do bear
Are far sweeter than yours are.

Though I priz'd your swelling Brest,
Yet the Grape, or Goosberry
Yield a juice more Savory;
Nor will I again protest
To an out-side, till I know
'Tis for Taste as well as Show.

The Real Drinker.

[I]

Disputes daily arise, and Errors grow bolder;
Philosophers prattle, and so does the Sizer,
The more we should know then by being the older;
But plainly't appears ther's no body wiser:
Hee that spends what hee has, and wisely drinks all,
'Tis hee is the man Mathematicall.

II

The scepticall Brain, 'tis that most men like best,
To appear subtile Wits, but live in suspence;
Thus all their lives long they are but in Quest,
And never arrive at true Science or Sense:
Since the Schools then dispute about Aristotle,
Let us now agree in our terms o're a Pottle.

III

Opinion it is that governs the World;
Why should not mine, and the Clubbs be as free,
As he that a hundred into Prison hurl'd,
And with his Horse and his Mace confutes poor mee?
We have probable reasons our Tenets to back,
And what more pretend they that quarrell with Sack?

IV

Since we now for mirth (Lads) our fancy disposes,
And ev'ry man thinks what he does is but reason;
Let's tipple a Glass round, till our Cheeks and our Noses
Are deeper dy'd than the Rose in 'its season:
What is demonstrative is approv'd by all,
Then drinking Healths too, is Mathematical.

V

To our Mistrisses then a full Glass be crown'd;
He that will not pledge it, we'l count him a Sinner;
Then freely cast all your Hats on the ground,
'Tis but what was done at a thanksgiving-Dinner:
They too had reason, being inspir'd by Wine,
To believe what they did was partly Divine.

Beauty and Love at ods.

Beauty and Love once fell at ods

Beauty and Love once fell at ods, and thus revil'd each other: Said Love, I am one of the gods, and you wait on my Mother: Thou hast no power ore Man at all, but what I gave to thee; nor art thou longer fair or sweet than men acknowledge thee. Away, Fond boy, then Beauty said, we know that thou art blind; but men have knowing eyes, and can thy graces better find: 'Twas I begot thee, Mortals know, and call'd thee Blind desire; I made thy Quiver and thy

Bow, and Wings to kindle fire. Love then in anger flew away, and straight to Vulcan pray'd, that he would tip his shafts with Scorn to punish this proud Maid. Thus Beauty ever since hath been but courted for an hour, to Love a day is now a sin 'gainst Cupid and his pow'r.

Natural Beauty best.

[I]

Beauty pleaseth most the fancy,
Yet a question will arise,
Whether it is more in Nancy
Or in sweet Philloclea's Eyes?
Ten black Patches on a Face,
Adde no Beauty to that place,
Nor admir'd by men are wise.

II

Symitry some Beauty call,
And Colours some say base is;
What shall they do have none at all,
But are subject to disgraces?
The Frenchman's Shop on Ludgate-Hill,
The Ladies there buy what they will
Both for their Hands and Faces.

III

I wonder how to them't appears,
There beauty is so lasting,
That they should not at threescore years;
Nay, sooner find it wasting?
'Tis a Fort can't long hold out,
Light-foot time sure will it rout,
For after them he's hasting.

IV

Paint Ladies therefore whilst you live,
Alluring 'tis to plaister fair;
Purchase this art what ere you give,
It makes you appear not what you are:
If your house chance once to fall,
Ruines fatall to you all,
And yee are past all repair.

V

That's perfect Beauty when the Mind,
(And's longer liv'd then babling Fame,)
To Wit and Wisdome is inclin'd,
The Face and Body Natures frame:
Not patch'd up with Exchanging Shops,
Or devising Taylors props;
Art and Ornament they shame.

VI

Such a Mistris I have found,
With adoration her admire!
With all these Graces She is crown'd,
And I have my own desire:
Aged Time shall Poets raise
More worthy far to sing her praise
In a strain that is more higher.

Liberty breeds Presumption.

[I]

When the unfetter'd subjects of the Seas,
The Rivers, found their silver feet at ease;
No sooner summon'd, but they swiftly went,
To meet the Ocean at a Parliament:
Did not the petty Fountains say, their King,
The Ocean, was no Ocean but a Spring?
As now some do, the power of Kings dispute;
And think it less, 'cause more is added too't.

II

Pale Ignorance, can the excess of Store
Make him seem poorer than he was before?
The Stars, the Heavens Inferior Courtiers, may
Govern the Nights darkness but not rule the Day:
Where the Sun Lords it, though they all combine
With Lucia, in her Vulgar dress, to shine
Brighter than they; nor can He be subdu'd,
Although but one, and they a multitude.

III

Say Subjects, are you Stars, be it alow'd,
You justly of your Members may be proud;
But to the Sun inferior; for know this,
Your Light is borrow'd, not your own, but his:
And as all Streams into the Ocean run,
You ought to pay your contribution:
Then do not such Ingratitude oppress,
To make him low that could have made you less

The true Sack-drinker.

[I]

Come let us drink away the Time,
A pox upon this peevish Rhime,
When Wine runs high wits in the prime;
Drink and true Drinkers are true joyes,
Odes, Sonnets, and such little Toyes,
Are Exercises fit for Boyes.

II

The whyning Lover that does place
His wonder in a painted Face,
And wasts his Substance in the Chace,
Could not in melancholy pine,
Had he affections so Divine
As once to fall in Love with Wine.

III

Then to our Liquor let us sit,
Wine makes the Soul for Action fit;
Who bares most Wine has then most wit:
The Gods themselves their Revels keep,
And in pure Nectar tipple deep
When sloathfull Mortals are asleep.

IV

They fudl'd once for Recreation,
In Water which by all Relation,
Did cause Ducalions Innundation:
The spangled Globe, as it held most,
Their Bole was with Salt-water dost,
The Sun-burnt Center was the Tost.

V

In Wine Apollo allwayes chose
His darkest Oracles to disclose;
'Twas Wine gave him his Ruby-nose:
The gods then let us imitate,
Secure of Fortune and of Fate;
Wine Wit and Courage doth create.

VI

Who dares not drink's a wretched Wight,
Nor do I think that man dares fight
All day, that dares not drink all night;
Fill up the Goblet till it swim
With Foam that over looks the Brim;
He that drinks deepest, Here's to him.

VII

Sobrietie and Study breeds
Suspition in our Thoughts and Deeds,
The Down-right Drunkard no man heeds:
Let me have Sack, Tobacco store,
A drunken Friend, a little Whore,
Provided, I will ask no more.

Love Insatiable.

[I]

What end have his desires that takes delight
In Red and White,
His Eyes can never rest till he do see
The fairest Shee;
Then thinking to improve his Bliss,
Hee'd give a Kingdome for a Kiss.

II

If he in time obtain the Charitie
Of a kind Kiss,
The touch of the warm Snow-balls on her Brest,
And all the rest;
Such Favours heighten his desire,
And do increase, not quench the fire.

III

If she yield up her honnour to his will,
He'l covet still;
Another Face inviteth him to trie
Varietie,
No sweets of love can satisfie
A wanton Curiositie.

Sacks Flavour.

[I]

Ioyn thy enamell'd Cheek to mine,
I'le bring thee where is Rasie Wine;
And where a loving Leagur's kept,
Where many Tankard tears are wept
For the Cash
That is gon: That is here;
Joy and grief, in a Tear
We will wash.
There we studie Revenges.
Make plots without hinges.
More black then the fifth of November's.
With Pipe, Pot, and Cup,
Our Estates we rake up,
Till our Eyes do appear like the Embers.

II

There with a Sack-incensed Face,
In speckled State and flaming Grace,
With dabbl'd Doublet doth appear
The Corall front of Caveleer
With a Bole:
Full of Sack, such as can
In the most dying man
Raise a Soul.

And forbids any venter
The Leagure to enter,
Or neer it commit such a Trespass;
If his Cheeks do not shine,
With the bloud of the Vine,
And his Nostrils do look like a Respass.

III

In Fletcher's Wit, and Johnson's Style,
There we will sit and fret a while;
Cursing the puddle of their Brains
That pull'd down Grapes, and put up Grains;
They are Foes
Who with Bag-pipes for Shalmes,
Deal in smal Beer and Psalmes
Through the Nose;
May want of drink grieve them,
And no man releive them,
Till scorhing inform them what Hell is;
May Howns-ditch, and Tower-ditch,
With Shore-ditch, and More-ditch,
Be empt'ed to fill up their Bellies.

IV

May all the Ills that can be thought
Either to heavy or to hot
Light on his Belly and his Back,
That envies us the joys of Sack:
Let him dye;
Or let him live with so much strife,
That he may beg to lose his life,
Till he cry
Good fellows forgive me;
If you will beleive me,
I swear by the Sword of a Lay-man,
I'le draw out my Whyneard,
And set up the Vineyard,
In spight of the Devil and Drayman.

The Resolve.

Ther's no man so worthy of Envy as he,
Drinks Sack and is free;
Can draw down his mind to his present Condition;
And at that ebb can
Shew himself a better man
Then's Enemy at his full tide of Ambition:
H'as a breast so well man'd he fears not the thunder
Of those Bastards of Fame
That have got a Name
By rapine and plunder;
But bravely despiseth
The mock Sun that riseth.

Chorus.

He that's quiet within, what need he to care?
Though not worth a Groat, hath the whole World to spare.

He's arm'd 'gainst the Chances and Changes of State,
And still meets his Fate
With a conquering Cup of the stourest Canarie;
Drinks healths to the best,
And he wrestles with the rest,
Yet never is foyl'd, lest his liquor miscarry:
His Thoughts are more free then the Bed that he lyes on;
Who puts his Cares to flight
A Prince is o're Night,
And next morning doth rise one;
Let Fates do what they will
He's the self-same man still.

Chorus.—

Scepters have Palsies, and Crowns too are shaking,
He that soundly doth sleep, need not keep others waking.

Then give us the Sack, let the Hen-hearted sit
Drink Whey and submit,
His Cucumer-Courage nere does well till beaten;
He Camel-like kneels,
And his burden ne'r feels
Till his Back becomes gall'd, and his Carcase near eaten:
Ha's a spirit so poor that every Knave rides him;
He's soul-less alone,
At best but a Drone,
And no man abides him;
He's a compact of Clay
That will turn any away:

Chorus.—

'Tis Sack and good Company makes the Soul free,
Like the Musique of that there's no Harmonie.

A Dialogue between Cloris and Doris.

[I]

You have forgot then, Doris, your protest?
No, I have not my Cloris, 'tis confest.
But yet I saw you slide a
Garland neatly tide
Into Urania's hand; Let it suffice,
Though love be blind, Lovers have many eyes.
Will you appear so strangely full of passion?
I've cause to fear dissembled Love's in Fashion.
Then why did you, I pray,
With Strephon Sport and Play?
You Kiss'd and Danc'd till day was past its prime,
And all the while my Heart did beat the Time.

Clo.—
May I not dance, or harmlesly be kist?

Do.—
So I may chance give Garlands, if I list.

Clo.—
But when you are so free,
Me thinks you steal from me
For every Lover, will this Text approve
There's Charity in all things, but in Love?

Do.—
That day the storm fell to be true you swore.

Clo.—
But when the Sun did shine, you vow'd much more.

Do.—
Those constant vows I made,
Were by your self betray'd;
For I am taught to know, it is my due
To be no faithfuller in Love than you.

Chorus.

Then jealousies be gone, and keep our sheep,
Lest that the Wolfe should make their number Small;
But of our Loves our Loves no thing Command shall keep,
But Cloris will, and Cloris will is all.

A Dialogue between Lucasta and Alexis.

Tell me Alexis what this parting is
Lucasta.
Tell me Alexis what this parting is, that so like dying is, but is not it.

Alexis

It is a sounding for a while from bliss, till kind how dee 'you, calls us from the fit:

If then the Spirits onely stay, let mine fly to thy Bosome.

Lucasta.

And my Soul to thine.

Chorus.

Thus in our Native Seat we gladly give our Fight for one where we can better live.

Lucasta.

But oh! this Lingring Murdring Farewell Death quickly wounds; and wounding cures the ill,

Alexis.

It is the glory of a valiant Lover, still to be dying, still for to recover.

Chorus.

Soldiers suspected of their courage go, that Ensignes and their Brests untorn show; Love neer his Standerd, when his Host he sets, creates alone fresh bleeding Bannerets.

Alexis.

But part we when thy Figure I retain, still in my Heart, still strongly in mine Eye.

Lucasta.

Shadows no longer then the Sun remain; but when his Beams that made them, fly, they fly.

Chorus.

Vain dreams of Love, that onely so much bliss allow us, as to know our wretchedness; and deal a larger measure in our pain, by shewing joy, then hiding it again.

Alexis

No, whilest Light reigns Lucasta still rules here, and all the night shines wholly in this Sphere.

Lucasta.

I know no Morne, but my Alexis Ray, to my dark thoughts the breaking of the day.

Alexis.

So in each other, if the pitying Sun thus keep us fix'd, ne'r may his Course be run.

Lucasta.

But oh! If Night us undivided make, let us sleep still, and sleeping never wake.

Chorus.

Cruel Adieus may well adjurn a while the Sessions of a Look, a Kiss or Smile; and leave behind an angry grieving blush; but Time nor Fate can part us joyned thus.

A Pastoral Dialogue.

Come yee Graces, come away

Come yee Graces, come away; you pleasant, hours why do you stay?

Upon your Mistriss wait, see where in State the Queen of Love and Beauty is. On such a Solemn night as this, Sacred to kissing, what bold Nymph dare be missing? They come, they come, behold the modest graces. For Loves sake mend your paces, and blush not to be bold; the hours have lost their wings, I fear. No, they appear.

Chorus.

And Ida green is now the Court of Passas Queen: when every one doth welcome sing to Venus and their new made King.

Lilly Contemn'd.

Wwhy art thou sad? Our Glasses flow
Like little Rivers to the Main,
And ne'r a man here hath a Shrew,
What need'st thou then complain?
Then Boyes mind your Glass,
And let all News pass,
That treats not of this our Canary.
Let Lawyers fear their Fate.
In the turn of the State.

Chorus.

We suffer i' this do miscarry: 'Tis this will preserve us 'gainst Lilly's predictions,
and makes us contemn our Fate and his Fictions.

'Tis this maintains the City Ruff,
And lines the Aldermen with Furr;
It makes the Watchmen stiff and tuff
To call, Where go you Sir?
'Tis this doth advance
The Cap of Maintenance,
And keeps the Sword sleeping or waking;
It Courage doth raise
In such men now a dayes,
That heretofore cry'd at Head-aching.

Chorus.—

'Tis this doth infuse in a Miser some pity,
And is the Genius and Soul of the City.

Then why should we despair, or think
The Enemy approacheth nere?
Let such as never use to drink
Sack, be enslav'd to Fear:
Then to get Honour,
And that waits on her,
Strange Titles Illustrious and Mighty,
We'l have a smart Bout,
Shall speak us men and stout,
And I'le be the first that shall fight ye.

Chorus.—

He that stifly can stand to't, and hath the best Brain;
Shall be styl'd Son of Mars, and God of the Main.

Loves Charm.

[I]

Vnfold thine Arms, and let me go,
Thine Eyes upbraid me with neglect;
My Lips so close to thy Lips grow,
The closeness hinders their Aspect.

II

We first say they found out her face,
And to thy wandring heart made known
The purchase of so sweet a place,
To make a dwelling of its own.

III

When men a building do erect,
They give not Drudges so much pay
As they do to the Architect,
Who did the first foundation lay.

IV

Compar'd with us, what vertue hath
Each other sense; since if it must
Alwayes rely upon our faith
To take Beauty upon trust.

V

Oh! Eyes: why do you thus complain?
We dare not rob you of your due;
For our Imbraces onely aim
To humble every sense to you.

The Vanity of Wealth.

If wealth could keep a man alive,
I'd onely study how to thrive;
That having got a mighty mass,
I might bribe the Fates to let me pass:

Chorus.

But since we cann't prolong our years,
Why spend we time in needless griefs and fears?
For since Destinie
Has decree'd, us to die,
And all must pass over the Ferry,
Hang Riches and Cares,
Since we han't many years,
Let's have a short life and a merry.

Times keep their round, and Destinie
Observes not whe'r we laugh or crie;
And Fortune never does bestow
A look on what we do below:
But men with equal labour run,
Either t'enrich themselves or be undon.
Since we can take no course
To be better or worse,
Let none be a melancholly thinker;
Let the times their round go,
So the Cups do so too,
Never blush at the name of a Drinker.

Musick being heard in the dead Season of the Night.

O Stella, heark

O Stella, heark; How sweetly doth the sound of Musick in our Ears resound? how 'tis advanced by the Night, whose silence adds unto delight? Our senses dead as Night are by the vertue of its Harmony stir'd, and reviv'd; who frisk and play like wanton Kids in th' dawn of day; one Voyce doth now more comfort bring, then the whole Quire of Birds in th' Spring; it comes to visit us, like that rare thing in man so wondred at. Friendship, to set our Spirits free, when thrall'd in Fortunes Slaverie.

A Dialogue between Castadorus and Arabella.

Dear Castadorus, let me rise
Arabella.

Dear Castadorus, let me rise, Aurora 'gins to jeer me; and tells me I do wantonize.

Castador.

I prethee Sweet lie neer me: Let Red Aurora smile my Dear, and Phebus laughing follow; thou onely art Aurora here, let me be thy Apollo: It is to envy at our bliss, that they do rise before us; Is their such hurt in this, or this.

Arabella.

Nay fye, why Castadorus.

Castador.

What Arabella, can one night of Loving dallying tire you? I could lye ever if I might, one hour let me desire you.

Arabella.

Nay, Fie; You hurt me, let me go, if you so roughly use me, what can I

say or think of you?

Castador.

I prethee Sweet excuse me; thy Beauty and my Love defend, I should ungently move thee, 'tis kisses Sweet that I intend; Is it not I that Love thee?

Arabella.

I do confess it is, but then since you do so importune, that I should once lie down again, vouchsafe to draw the Curtain.

Chorus.

Aurora and Apollo too may visit, may visit silent Fields; by our consent they ne'r shall know what bliss our pleasure yields.

A Pastoral Dialogue.

Fly, Fly good Shepherd, hast away
Nymph.

Fly, Fly good Shepherd, hast away, the Wood's beset; come take this way, lest that thou lose that Life which I could dye for so contentedly.

Shepherd.

Oh! no, oh! no, my Dear I cannot Fly.

Nimph.

Then I perceive 'tis I must dye.

Shep.

Wrong not my Courage, nor my Love, nor let thy Fears my Ruine prove. Ile not depart, though for it I do soundly smart.

Nymph.

Prethee begone, here comes in arms a mighty throng.

Shepherd.

What's that to mee.

Nimph.

Oh! lovely Shepherd prethee flee.

Shep.

Sing first a song; and then perchance I may begone.

Nymph.

What shall it be?

Shepherd.

What ever't be best pleaseth thee.

Nymph.

Be not so fond, but hast away, for if thou stay, thou needs must die; it boots thee not to make delay, and if thou love me quickly flie.

Chorus.

Then shall we find hereafter, hereafter when once met, joys that are lasting, and hugely full, not Counterfeit.

A Dialogue between Thirsis and Dorinda.

When death shall part us from these Kids
Dorinda.

When death shall part us from these Kids, and shut up our devided Lids; tell me Thirsis, prethee do, whether thou & I shall go?

Thirsis.

To the Elizium.

Dorinda.

Oh! where i'st?

Thirsis.

A chast Soul can never miss't.

Dorinda.

I know no way but one, our home: Is our Cell Elizium?

Thirsis.

Turn thine Eye to yonder sky, there the milky way doth lye, 'tis asure but rugged way, that leads to everlasting day: There Birds may nest.

Dorinda.

But how shall I, that have no wings and cannot fly?

Thirsis.

Do not sigh, fair Nymph, for

Fire, hath no wings but doth aspire; tell it hit against the pole, Heavens the Center of the Soul.

Dorinda.

But in Elizium, how do they pass eternity away?

Thirsis.

Oh! there is neither hope nor fear, there is no Woolf, nor Fox, nor Bear; no need of Dog to fetch our stray, our Lightfoot we may give away: No Oatepipes needful, there thy Eares may sleep with Musick, with Musick, Musick of the Spheres.

Dorinda.

O Sweet! O Sweet! how I my future State, by silent thinking, silent thinking antedate: I prethee let us spend our

time to come, in talking of Elizium.

Thirsis.

Then I'le go on; There Sheep are full of sweetest grass, and softest wool; there Birds sing consort, Garlands grow, cool winds do whisper, Springs do flow; there alwayes is a rising Sun, and day is ever but begun: Shepherds there bear equal sway, and every Nymph a Queen of May.

Dorinda.

Ah! me.

Thirsis.

Dorinda, why dost cry?

Dorinda.

I'm Sick, I'm Sick, and fain would die; convince me now that this is true, by bidding with me all adieu.

Thirsis.

I cannot live without thee, I; I'le for thee, much more with thee die.

Chorus.

Then let us give Corilla charge, Corilla charge oth' Sheep, and thou and I thou and I'le pick Poppies, Poppies, and them steep them steep in Wine, and drink on't, and drink on't even till we weep; so shall we pass, shall we pass away, so shall we pass away in a sleep.

A Dialogue between a Shepherd and a Nymph.

What busie Cares too timely born (young Swain) disturb thy sleep?
Nymph.

What busie Cares too timely born (young Swain) disturb thy sleep? Thy early Sighs awake the Morn, thy Tears teach her to weep.

Shep.

Sorrows, fair Nymph, are full alone, nor Counsel can endure.

Nymph.

Yet thine disclose, for until known, sickness admits no Cure.

Shep.

My Griefs are such as but to hear, would poyson all thy Joys; thy Pity which thou seemst to bear my Health, thine owne destroys.

Nymph.

How can diseased Mindes infect? say what thy Grief doth move.

Shep.

Call up thy virtue to protect thy Heart & know 'twas Love.

Nymph.

Fond Swain.

Shep.

By which I have been long destin'd to meet with Fate.

Nymph.

Fie Shepherd fie, thou dost love wrong to call thy Crime thy Fate.

Shep.

Alass! what cunning could decline, what Force can Love repell?

Nymph.

Yes, there's a way to unconfine thy Heart.

Shep.

For pity tell.

Nymph.

Choose one whose love may be allur'd by thine: Who ever knew inveterate diseases cur'd but by receiving new?

Shep.

All will like her my soul perplex.

Nymph.

Yet try.

Shep.

O! could there be but any softness in that Sex, I'd wish it were in thee.

Nymph.

Thy prayer is hear

Learn now t'steem the kindness She hath shown, who thy lost freedome to redeem hath forfeited her own.

Chorus.

Then to some shade we will remove, let Pan and Pales Pan and Pales keep our Orphan sheep, whilest we perform, whilest we perform the rites of Love.

The contented Batchelor.

Rose-buds that's gather'd in the Spring,
Can't be preserv'd from dying,
And though you'enjoy the wisht for thing,
The pleasure will be flying;
The glorious Lamp that mounteth high,
And to his Noon arriving,
Must not stay there continually,
But downwards must be driving.

The last is best, for though that time
With Age and Sickness seise us;
Yet on our Crutches do we climbe
Untill a light shall ease us:
Then though I may, yet will I not
Possess me of't, but tarry;
He lives the best that hath forgot,
What means the word Go Marry.

Bushels Myners.

You Ladies of our Nation
Where is your greatness gone?
What sudden alteration
Hath forc'd you from your own?
Whilst we live here obscurely, in Cottages unknown,
No Cares or Fears we ever think upon.

Our Walls are higest Mountains,
For we live in a Comb;
We drink of Flowing Fountains,
Out dwelling is our Tomb:
Nor look to be expected before the day of Doom,
Where Scribes for bribes shall ne'r deny us Room.

We have a dreadful summons
Up in the high Countrie;
Our gracious King and Commons,
They say cannot agree:
This harness is for Cedars, and no such shrubs as we,
Yet still we will pray for a unitie.

The day we spend in working,
And chanting harmless Songs;
No mallice here lies lurking,
Our thoughts are free from wrongs:
And those that civil War do love, we wish they had no tongues,
No Drums no Guns, nor what to War belongs.

We wound the Earths hard Bowels,
Where hidden treasure grows;
With Twibil, Sledge and Trowels,
Pick-Axe and Iron-Crowes:
We search for sinful Silver, that all dissention sowes,
Their health and wealth, men do so ill dispose.

We eat the Bread of Labour,
And what endeavours brings;
Sorrow is no next Neighbour,
Our Eyes they are no Springs,
Unless we shed a Tear or two, when as we pity Kings;
The Fates of States to us are Hebrew things.

Bacchus true Adorers.

It's the news of the Town

It's the news of the Town, that Healths are put down; Zealots say 'tis for our ease; then tipple like a Sinner, at a Thanksgiving dinner, who is drunk with what you please: Kind Remembrances now each good Fellow must alow, the Act forbids not drinking, fill the Glass to the brim, and let our Fancies swim, none is excluded thinking: To Bacchus Rites we'l pay, and on his Altar lay, both Fat Zeal, and Goats, and Swine; then his Phrygian Horne, which Teaching Brothers scorn, in our thought shall be sublime.

Chorus.

Let Anachrions Boul be full, and fill Ben. Johnson's Scul; Who approv'd of Apollo's Wine, we have liberty to drink, to nod, wink, or think, to his, to thine, or to mine, we have liberty, to drink to nod, wink or think, to his, to thine, or to mine.

An EPITHALAMIUM On the Nuptials of Thomas Stanley Esquire; And the Lady Dorothy Enion.

So (at the first) the Soul and Body met

So (at the first) the Soul and Body met, when the Creator did in Counsel set, to make a little world command the great; nor are your flames less innocent then they, before the Grand Imposter did betray their fatal freedome to the worlds decay: Therefore let all that Heaven can dispense to Royal Mankind, in the Soul and Sense possess ye

with Seraphick Influence: May all the promised blessings on each Nation, From Genesis to John's high Revelation, contribute to your Cordial Coronation: May both your Brows be circled with such Beams of Glory as appear'd in Jacob's Dreams, or the Dove darted upon Jordan's Streams: May Lovers light their Torches at your Flame, and may the power of Stanley's Single Name prove the sublimest Epithet of Fame.

Chorus.

May your Hearts fix above the force of Fate, may neither Princes frown nor peoples hate your fair affections disunanimate; May you have all you can desire, and when your wishes have out-vi'd the thoughts of men, some Power direct you how to wish again.

Juno.

Iove sent thee Paris what is mine; Be safely bold, and for this Trifle I'le resign a wreath of Gold; Obey then, and command; thou canst not be just to thy self if not to me;

Minerva.

Twice happy in thy choice, be wise, e're thou dispense this

treasure, give thy reason Eyes, and blind thy sense: Thus Arms and Arts thy humble Name shall raise, alike to wreaths of Oak and Bayes.

Venus.

She whom all Suppliants else implore, is here made thine, and will for this a gift restore no

lesse divine, the best of pleasures thus enjoy, and try where Beauty courts, none can deny.

Chorus.

Examine Princely Shepherd, here, the offerings which we send thee how for that narrow narrow Golden sphere, wealth Fame

and Love and Love attend thee, and judge by this how large these honnors be, none to each other yield, each other yield, each other yield, yet all to thee.