University of Virginia Library

The second part.

EBRIVS EXPERIENS;

OR The Drunkards humour.

Some say I drinke too much to write good lines;

Tassoes Apollogie transcribed wherein a Drunkard Humour is to life described.

Indeed I drinke, more to obserue the Times,
And for the loue I beare vnto my friend
To hold him chat, then any other end:
Yea, my Observance tells mee I haue got
More by discoursing sometimes ore a Pot,
Then if I had good-fellowship forsooke,
And spent that houre in poring on a booke.
And this's the cause (we see it now and then)
“The greatest Clerkes are not the wisest men:
Which is confirm'd by Times-experienc'd Schoole,
“The meerest Scholler proues the meerest foole.
Yet to maintaine that Vice I'le ever shon
Which claimes prerogatiue in Albyon:
For know, these Pott-shots, I so much abhorre them
That though in pittie I am sorry for them
So to deforme their forme which is divine,
And make't more like the Image of a Swine;
Yet I so weigh them as they nere shall be
Partners of any secret knowne to mee,
For him my Bosom-friend I'le never make,
Who'le loose his reason for acquaintance sake.
Yet now and then to these men I will show
Some odd respect and spend my pennie too,
To gaine me knowledge of what humours raigne
By my Observance in all sorts of men.
For I doe know no humours euer were,
Which shall not be in part decyphered there.
One you shall see has Crochetts in his braine,
And hopes ere many dayes to Conquer Spaine;
Vp goe his scaling Ladders to the walls,
Which hauing rer'd, this reeling Captaine falls,
And falling thus he cryes to such stand by,
“Souldiers reuenge, your Captaine now must die.
An other's sottish drunke, and hee's for sleepe;
The third so tender-harted he must weepe,
Of which sort I haue knowne some pule and crie,
If they had heard but th'killing of a flie.
The fourth is Courtier-drunke, whose element
Is tyed to Kisses, Congies, Complement,
Of which sort many you shall each where see,
Who spend an houre in making of a knee,
Which hauing done, completely turning round,
It's ten to one they fall vnto the ground.
Once forth I went invited by my friend,
An houre or two in fellowship to spend,
Which were not idely spent, for each was bound,
As he was generous to drinke his round.
So generall grew this same generous health,
As some were faine to get away by stealth,
With many topsie-turvie strange adventures,
'Twixt wall and kennell making long endentures.
Others more wise (tho full as drunke) had care
To keepe their weake brains from the piercing ayre,
And therefore made their Pillow of their capp,
Setling their witts by taking of a napp.
My friend and I who yet had gift to stand
And goe, for we came on the latter hand,
Obseruing this, with one vnited force,
Resolu'd to trie a better and a worse:
To it we went, we two being all were left,
(For all the rest of sense were quite bereft)
Where either call'd for wine that, best did please,
Thus helter skelter drunke wee vpsefrese.
Bring Malmsey, quoth my friend, it's good for th'back,
And I to please my palate call'd for Sack;
So long we Sack't it till our Forts were wonne,
Round run the world, and we both fell downe:
Where whilest we lay (for now the ieast began)
My friend nere shew'd his louing heart till than.
Close 'bout my necke he hung and claspt me fast,
“Vowing his Saint all other Saints surpast,
“And I was Shee: O thou art of that grace,
Thus he began, then rifts he in my face,
As none, ô none, then could he not afford
To gaine a kingdome, halfe another word.
But canst thou loue? to satisfie his choice,
I told him Yes, faining a Womans voice:
For I had so much sense left in my braine,
As I resolu'd to trie his Cupping vaine;
Then vp he counts (tho wine of wit had reft him)
How many farmes his Father now had left him,
All which (quoth he) must to our heires succeede,
Which I found true, for All came vp indeede:
Beside, and happie may that word betide,
“For of that All came vp, some fell beside,
Which, if it had nor had a speedie vent,
Had gon well nie t'haue drown'd his beauteous Saint.
Thus lay we long like Images of death,
Whilest the fat Lubber prest me vnderneath;
Stirre could I not, so motionlesse was I,
Whilest he did coll and kisse me louingly;
Yea, I am perswad'd, if the Drawer had not come,
As good hap was, into our forlorne roome,
By kisses store (so kinde a heart had he)
He had gone nere in time to stifle mee,
For breathlesse I could neither speake nor moue me,
So heauie was the Block that lay aboue me.
At last releas'd, and both vpon our feete,
To quench the passion of our Loue-sicke heate,
On tearmes of friendship, now to make an end,
I was coniured by my Kissing friend
To pledge him but one Health, and then depart,
Which if I did Is'de ever haue his hart,
I gaue assent; the Health, fiue sences were,
(Though scarce one sence did 'twixt vs both appeare)
Which as he drunk I pledg'd; both pledg'd & drunk,
Seeing him now full-charg'd, behinde I shrunke,
Whilest hee his meaning copiously displaide,
And in the Chimney all his senses laide.
Nay, then good-night (quoth I) I will not stay
With him that casts his senses so away,
For this in me Experience begitts,
“He cannot loue his friend that loaths his witts.
Yet as a friend I caus'd him to be led,
In a magestick sort vnto his bed,
For hauing left his senses there behinde him,
I plac't him there, that they next Morne might finde him.
“Thus much for Humours which so diuerse be,
“As in each Subiect there's varietie,
“All which obseru'd with apprehensiue eyes,
“May add vnto the knowledge of the wise;
For weake's his iudgement or deprau'd's his will,
“Cannot extract good from apparent ill.

The Old-mans Hearse;

OR The Yong-mans Iubile.

Hears't thou not Vitulino, who is dead!
Thy father man; nay, hang not downe thy head
Like to a Bull-rush: there's no cause at all
That thou so childishly shuld mone his fal
Whose fall's thy rising; for He wish'd to die,
Yea, and to put his Soule in ieopardie,
With his iniurious course to make thee rich,
Or thy wrong Father'd Imps he car'd not which:
But what is that to thee, thou need'st not care,
How his sin-pricked-pressed soule doth fare;
The Prouerbe is, how ere th'effect seeme euill,
“Happie's that Sonne, whose Father goes to th'Deuill.
Yet shed some fained teares; but I doe feare,
Th'art not so tender-harted, therefore heare
What thou shalt doe; put on a Vergis-looke,
And tye an Onion in thy Napkins nooke,
Which will enforce thee weepe, (right sure I am)
And make thee seeme a tender-harted man?
But many things it's fitting thou should haue,
To bring Him honestly vnto his Graue;
As first, though He was first that ere exprest,
His Gentrie by his Coate or by his Crest,
Thou must prouide some Herald that may draw
His late-vnknowne descent, and by the Law
Of Armes may Gentilize the Pesant so,
As you for Gentlemen may after goe.
Which, that each thing may be in order done,
Let th'Herald ranke the Mourners one by one,
Where some poore snakes that cottage on thy Land
May carry each a Scutchion in their hand,
And seeme to mourne, tho they were much to blame
To mourne his death that sought to beggar them.
But some Diuine thou must haue to commend
His zealous life, and his Religious end;
Which taske, as it thy bountie doth require,
“For th'Labourer is worthie of his hyre,
Clapp me a brace of Angells in his fist,
And that will make him say, Thy Father's blist,
Though his corrupted Conscience say no,
For what is it good Angells will not doe?
O how he'le make the Church ring with his prayse,
Entitling Him, the Mirrour of his dayes,
A Patron of pure Iustice, one, whose doore
Was thronged still with crowding of the poore,
(Without least crum of comfort) being knowne,
To be the Almes-basket of the Towne.
And then He'le faine a teare, and wish to see
The happie end of many such as Hee;
And he ha's cause to wish it, for their death
Might guild in time his mercenarie breath.
Then He'le descend to mans Mortalitie,
Which He'le dilate on as historically;
“Where's good Æneas, Tellus, Ancus he
“That was so rich? as other Mortalls be,
“Consum'd to dust, so as that supreme blesse
“They plac'd in Wealth, 's reduc'd to rottennesse,
And will not this doe brauely? when a Swine
That nere did one good deed in all his time,
But grunting in his Stye, or in his Stall,
Nere fed

Mieam pe{r}it Lazarus & [illeg.]inon datur, guttam Diues postulat & non [illeg.]uditur.

staru'd soule but at his Funerall,
Must be canoniz'd Saint! thrice blessed gold,
That art so soueraigne to eternize mould,
And make corruption glorious, whose esteeme
Can make our foulest vices vertues seeme!
Where an Incarnate Diuell that did shon
The sight of God is made an Angell on,
Transpos'd from earth to heauen; yet ten to seuen
In all his life He scarce once thought on Heauen.
Now when he ha's thy Fathers vertues show'd,
Wilt thou not thinke thy Angells well bestow'd?
Yes Vitulino, and will make this vse
Of his depraued Doctrine: Times abuse
Drawne from oppression, iniurie, and wrong,
May purchase praises from a hyrelings tongue,
Sooner then best deseruings; which may be
A motiue to thy owne Securitie,
Obseruing how Opinion oft-times giues
“Best name to him that most securely liues.
This done, & now the slope-sleu'd mourning gowne
Is from his sable Pulpit comming downe,
And thy worme-breeding Father's to be laide
In his last home, there must a Tombe be made
Of Porphyrite Marble, or the Thracian stone,
To memorise his Worship being gone;
Whereon t'engraue some verse, were not amisse,
T'expresse his worth, as such an one as this.
“Demas dide rich they say, but 'tis not so,

Vpon the late deceased Pinchgut Demas.

“For he dide poore, and was indebted too;
“How should that be? obserue me & I'le tell yee
“He dide indebted both to backe and bellie,
“For all He scrap'd from his Atturneyes fees,
“Seru'd but starue his maw with bread and cheese:
“So as 'mongst those we rightly may him call,
“Whose life spent lesse then did his Funerall.
“For all his life his house scarce eate one beast,
“Yet dead, his Son makes vp the Churles feast.
This Monument when thou erected hast,
And on the front a Plate of Brasse hast plas't,
With this Inscription, or one of like sort,
(But Epitaphs indeed should be more short)
Let this same Tombe where thou thy Father lay
Be th'place of payment on each festiuall day;
For't would delight the old Chrone but to heare
His Sonne and heire to make his Checker there:
Besides chinke, chinke's a Misers heauen on earth,
And therefore now when He is in the dearth
Of comfort, it were good t'allay his paine
With sight of that would raise him vp againe.
But now to thee, who like Stericydes
Canst draw Sun, Moone, and Starres what way thou please
With thy guilt Iacobs staffe, me thinkes I see,
By calculating thy natiuitie
In thee (yet I'me no Wizard) Midas Fate
“That staru'd himselfe to better his estate.
Yet thou'lt descend to th'Lapp of Danae,
Mall, Besse, coy Kate, or bashfull Barbarie,
In showers of gold, and then will wish and wooe,
But still with gold, for else thou know'st not how;
And promise all content, as curious fare,
Gorgeous attyre, and pleasures 'boue compare,
Destilled ambers, pearled broaths, and th'fruit
Which wretched Adam tasted; for no doubt
“Women doe loue that fruit which is denide them
“More then all profferd fruit that grows beside them.
But what's this Vitulino? Doest not know,
A wanton Wench will not be pleased so?
A toothlesse Hagg perchance, whose onely Blisse
Consists in hoording, will like well of this,
And will adore thy Golden-calfe, for shee
In other ioyes ha's no felicitie;
But such, whose prime of yeares, and pride of youth,
Grac'd with a smile as blith, a skin as smooth,
Charm'd with Loue-whispring tales, Loue-piercing eyes,
Rapt with delight of dreaming fantasies,
Wedded to loue, not wealth, content, not gold,
Being so free as riches cannot hold,
Nor power restraine, scorne with their heeles to haue
Their vncontroul'd affections made a slaue
To dunge or drosse, where loue is oft-times crost,
The most in that where it possesseth most.
And yet how soueraigne is't to see a chest
Ramm'd with whole heapes of gold; O shee is blest
That may possesse so glorious a Saint!
Indeede shee were if there were no content
But in possessing; but alas we finde
There is another Secret in the minde,
That passeth earth, such difference doe we feele,
'Twixt Plutoes Court, and Platoes Common-weale.
Yet boast thou may, that thou art one of those
That hast to guild thy friends, to gall thy foes;
For who will not attend thee and bestow
Their best observance on thy trencher too,
And cappe and knee this Isis Asse of wealth,
and cry,—The Lord preserue your worships health?
But if thou'de looke into the inner man,
And th'treasure He enioyes, I doubt me than,
Thou wouldst complaine, and thy estate deplore,
To see thy Soile so rich, thy Soule so poore.
Indeed I must confesse th'hast wealth at will,
Store of possessions, and increasest still
Thy large-inhanced rents; but (pray thee) can
These (of themselues) make thee a happie man?
No Vitulino, for when Time shall come,
Thy pompe must be reduced to a Tombe,
A shrowding sheete, a silly clott of clay,
And all those Summer-gnats are flowne away,
(Thy fained friends I meane) wealth cannot bayle thee
From those tormenting pangs that shall assayle thee.
Where's then thy

Aurum etsi volueris, forte non habebis: Deum cum volueris, habebis. Aug.

Gold, those Lands lay here and there,
Perchance possessed by another Heire
Then He for whom thou aym'd them; yea 'tmay be
That He thou hated most (as oft we see)
Claimes to be thy Successour! and can this
That adds grace to our foes, include our blisse?
It cannot; therefore heare me ere I leaue thee,
My lines shall say, I loue thee, though I grieue thee.
Take an

Sit filius ipse parenti in patris exumplum.

example by that faithlesse Iew,
Whose soule I feare (and ô I doubt too true
Is my religious feare) who had the name
Of an Oppressor: though from him thou came,
Trace not his stepps; let charitable deedes
Be those renewing and reviving seedes
Which blossome in thy soule; remember hence
“No griefe like to a wounded Conscience.
Make not the Widdow weepe, the Orphane cry,
Sith euery teare that falleth from her eye,
Is botteld by the Lord; relieue the poore
Out of the great aboundance of thy store;
Make

Non remittitur peccatum, donec restituitur ablatum.

restitution with good Zebedee
Of what thy Father got iniuriously;
“So Fame acknowledging her selfe thy Debter,
“Shall say,—once prou'd the Sonne the Fathers better.

The Eye.

Menippus and Mercator.
Menip.
Helpe (Reuerend Chremes) helpe what shall I doe?
Mine eyes, mine eyes.

Mer.
How now, whats matter now?

Menip.
Oh Chremes helpe me with your Spectacles,
I haue such paine and dimnesse in mine eyes.

Mer.
Dimnesse my Sonne, some cloud, some pannickle,
Some Cataract, perhapps it's but some pearle.
Puluis Benedictus, the Collirium
I cleped Ierosollimitanum
Were excellent; Oculus Christi's sure.

Menip.
True, but my sicknesse ha's indeed no cure.

Mer.
Why thine eyes well.

Menip.
No, there's before mine
A webb, a mist, so rancke, I cannot spie
A Thiefe, that takes my Purse before my face;
A Letcher may from's friend get speciall grace,
A winke, a nodd, a foote, a wringe, a kisse,
Sent by some Childe, yet I see none of this.
Th'vngracious sonne too, for his Syre may dight
The iuyce of Henbane, Poppie, Aconyte,
Cantharides, or Salamanders bloud,
And I taste some, yet call it wondrous good;
A foole may find a Hare beside my nose,
And catch her too; for I am none of those
That can discouer profit, whether 't sayle
I'th likenesse of a Meynard, or a Whale.

Mer.
But where's thy paine then?

Mer.
Marrie Grandsyre this,
Mine eyes they smart to see the happinesse
Of fooles; how prosperous honour follows knaues,
Or when they spie a crew of cringing Slaues,
That to an Idoll bow, and kisse their hand,
That cares not two-pence which of them were hang'd,
So's Lacquey scape, his Cooke, his Horse-keeper,
His Barber, Pander, and his flatterer.
Mine eyes ake too, as oft as they behold
A russet Swaine, his clothes not onely old,
But's selfe growne so with winding at the screw
Of the Lawes Labyrinth: which endlesse tew,
(Like th'webb of Ithaca) many record
Three times t'out-strip Drakes voyage 'bout the world:
I say they ake, when 'gainst the flintie earth.
He knocks his knees, to homage him whose breath
Perhapps must stab him, and with some French friske
Poyson him like a banefull Basiliske.
Nor is the Countrey vtterly exempt
From Obiects too, that breede my discontent.
Mine eyes ake there, as often as I looke
Vpon a Sheepheard, that should with his crooke
Defend his flocke, and driue away the Fox,
To see him mall the same with fatall knocks,
And beat his dogs, and giue the Wolfe that stands
Watching his prey, his young and tender lambs.
Againe mine eyes they paine me wondrous sore,
to see a greasie Lout that ha's more store
Of deadly sinnes then

See Ariosto.

of Diuinity,
For xviii. hundred pound immediately;
Aduanc't into no ordinary chaire,
A fellow that can talke of nought but fare.
Pig, Turquey, Pheasant, wine of Crete or Gaule,
Or

Rhennish.

Heidle-berge, whether's more cordiall.
Potato, Chyna, or Eringian root,
O how my Eyes they start, they sting and shoot
To see this dropsie paunch, that now outswells,
The monstruous belly of Pantagrewells:
Tumbling as in Pontificalibus,
While diuine spirits and ingenious
To him like water Spaniells must croutch loe
To take the ducks of his command.

Mer.
so, so;
I doubt thine eyes be Linceus matches, else
What office hast thou for my Spectacles?

Menip.
Good Sr. I would discouer now with them,
What store of Whales, this yeare there shalbe tane
About the Pole, and whether those that goe
From Brill to yeare shall profit yea or no!

Mer.
Why foole these be not like Prospectiue glasse.

Menip.
No, I know that, most reuerend aged Asse;
And yet with these, thy sight doth farre excell
Cycillian Straboes, that could truely tell
The Ships of Carthage, & thou these neare showes,
What's done within the Compasse of thy house,
And thine owne sheetes: yet canst thou cleerely see,
To Greene-land, Bantham, and there what will be.
The price of Pepper, Cloues and Mace this yeare
And what's like either to be cheape or deare,
In each place of the habitable world,
Such wondrous helpe these spectacles afford.
Thou seest what store of Sables there shall come
From Rhezan, spotted Armines from the Donn.
Thou seest when warres betwixt the Turke shall rise
And Sophie, then, then brasse wil beare good prize.
Thou seest the sugar Canes in Chyna too,
Silke ranke as grasse, which makes thee hunt out so
The North-West passage to preserue the men
That thither may returne, but two of ten
From this lov'd Golgatha. A hundred weight
Of Sugar six pence! why, who would not freight
With all the elements to get to Iapon,
A March-pane three times cheaper then a Capon.
Oh happy Eyes, which certainly will soone
Discouer next new nations in the Moone,
And what commoditie, what quintessence
Of newer traffique may be had from thence.

Mer.
What dost thou mocke me now? Thou meagre spy
Got by consent of some Anatomy,

This is spoken as he is going away in a chafe: expressing the testie Nature of Age. Imprecatio.

Ile teach ye ieast at a Magnifico.

Exit.
Menip.
What are ye gone? stay, let my blessing goe
along with thee; may, may thy gracelesse sonne,
Of all that thou dishonestly hast wonne,
Not leaue a groat: let him make duckes and drakes
Too of thy money, that their flight may take
Into the coffers of safe-keeping Thames,
Then let him lauish out all that remaines
To lull his sences in a Lethargy

It is heere to be vnderstood, the reason why the Satyrist directs his imprecatiō not to himselfe, but to his sonne; it is because nothing can be sayd to an old man, that will so soone moue his patience concerning himselfe, being vpon the point of going hence; as the malediction of his sonne, in whom are laid vp all his hopes, and resemblance of a new life in his posterity: in whom he may be sayd to liue after death, as he deriued from him naturally, breath.

Of pleasure curelesse, vntill beggary,
Nip him by th'sleeue and make him try a friend
In vaine for six-pence; (for, but few will lend
Great summes to desperate debtors): last of all,
Let him die leprous in an Hospitall.

Vpon Fortune.

Fortune, who calls thee blinde is not to blame,
For so much is imported by thy name;
Worth thou respects not: he that doth inherit
Thy blinde estate is one of least demerit;
Who knowes not worth, but's wont to derogate
From style of Man, to better his estate.
Fondling that fawnes on greatnesse, I detest
To be by thee or thy vaine fauours blest;
For if I should, who liue in Wisedomes Schoole,
Would gather hence I were some brain-sicke foole
That had no meanes (for so they would report me)
But iust as purblinde Fortune did support me.
And what were I then but a garish Asse,
That casts a perfume where he's wont to passe;
protesting (vaine protests) he ha's betraide,
A Ladies honour by her Chambermaide;
Sweares by his silken sinnes, he can dispence
With faith, friend, promise, soule, and Conscience;
To make his way more cleare, more eminent,
Vnto his Courtly Puppet, his faire Saint;
Whose onely glory is to vaunt of sinne,
“And as he boasts of her, shee feedes on him!
O World, how vaine is he that doth rely
Vpon thy fained, forged flattery;
When best deserts (so thin is merit sowen)
Are to degrees of worst opinion growne?
When Time affords no ioy but vnto such,
As are esteem'd for hauing ouermuch;
And younger Brothers, onely heires of wit
For want of meanes, are forc'd to silence it!
“Farewell imperious Mole, I doe defie thee,
“Since none but wittalls can be fauour'd by thee.

Vpon Mya.

The Signe in Cancer.

A crabbed Shrow through sicknes weakly brought,
Wish't by all meanes a Doctor might be sought,
Who by his Art that hee her griefe might know,
Felt both her pulse, and cast her water too;
Which done, He to her Husband turn'd againe,
And wish'd him be content, all was in vaine:
For when the Signe's in Cancer shee should die;
To whom her Husband answer'd presently;
“If that my learned Doctor had beene so,
She had beene dead beleeue it long agoe:
For these ten yeares and odd she ha's beene mine,
And I ne're knew yet out of that Signe.

Hymens Eglogue betwixt Admetus and Menalchas.

Menal.
What makes Admetus sad, what ere it be,
Some cause there is that thus hath alter'd thee;
Is it the losse of substance or of friends,
Or thy content in discontentment ends:
Is it some scruple in thy conscience,
Which vnresolu'd doth leaue thee in suspence;
Is it that thou thy long-wish'd Loue should leese?

Admet.
No no, Menalchas it is none of these.

Menal.
Thou art not sicke;

Admet.
Nor sicke, nor greatly well.

Menal.
Where lies thy griefe?

Admet.
My countenance will tell;

Menal.
Smooth is thy brow, thy count'nanc'e fresh enough:

Admet.
But cares haue made my wreakefull minde as rough;

Menal.
Of cares Admetus!

Admet.
Yes I haue my share:

Menal.
Yet hope of cure;

Admet.
No hope of cure to care.

Menal.
Nay then I se 'tis loue that thee doth wring:

Admet.
Thou errs Menalchas, it is no such thing.

Menal.
If therefore losse of friends, nor losse of wealth,
Want to enioy thy loue, nor want of health,
If neither discontent nor griefe doe show
Care in thy face, nor sorrow in thy brow,
If thou be free, as we all know thee free,
Engag'd to none, what is it grieueth thee?

Admet.
Wouldst know Menalchas?

Menal.
Yes;

Admet.
I'le tell thee than;
“The case is alter'd, I'me a married man.

Hymens Choyce.

Loues Description.

Loue , what's thy name? a phrensie; whenc'e thy birth?
From heauen; how comes it then thou liues on earth?
I liue not there; yet each vsurps thy name:
It's true indeede, but hence redounds their shame!
I liue not there, my Nature's pure and iust,
But lust liues there, and loue's a foe to lust.

AN HYMNE THALASSICALL, OR NVPTIALL;

implying Two worths included in one Name, Paradoxally intimating the true happie State of contented Love.

What I haue, that I craue,
Frank I lost, yet Frank I haue;
Happie am I in possessing
Of her that giues Loue a blessing:
Blessed loue 'boue earthly ranke,
Stated in my style of Franke,
Happie style that thinkes no shame
In respect of nature, name,
Forme, affection, and in all
To be Franke, as we her call.
Yet so franke, that though shee be
Free, it's in such modestie,
As no Creatures are, haue bin,
Can, or may taxe her of sin.
Pure in Loue, sincere in heart,
Faire by Nature, not by Art,
Crimson blushes which display,
Reddest euen makes cleerest day;
Cleerest, where like Ida's snow
Lillies on her cheekes doe grow;
Yet so mixt with true delight,
As the red contends with white;
Yet ore'comm'd with Modesty,
red ore white gets victory.
Thus two Franks in beauty one,
Yeelds enough to dote vpon;
Equall both in fauour, feature,
Honour, order, name and nature;
Both inclining to one stature,
Equall'd by no earthly creature.
For if I should paint them out,
From the head vnto the foot,
I should make you then confesse
They were earthly Goddesses:
And that Nature made these two,
As those Mirrors which might show
Her perfection and her store,
Challenging, who could giue more!
Thus both equall in one letter,
One to either, neither better;
Twin-like seeme as Time had fixt them,
As two Spheres not one betwixt them;
Yet if needs one th'best doe craue,
In my thoughts it's she I haue:
She, whose vertues doe excell
As they seeme imparalell;
Modest, yet not too precise,
Wise, yet not conceited wise;
Still in action, yet her will
Is so pure it ne're acts ill;
Virgin-modest, yet delights
To discourse of Hymens rights;
Yet she blushes when she heares,
Ought that's light sound in her eares;
And with skarlet-die displaies,
What to Women yeelds most praise:
For praise-worthy 'tis in women,
To blush at that Act is common;
Since in speech those actions show
Ill, which modest are to doe;
For a Maid should be afraid,
Hearing th'losse of Maiden-head.
With this Poem, and a Pearle
Sent to Frank my faithfull Girle;
I conclude with friendly vow,
To my Frank her neigbour too.

An Elegiack Sonnet.

THE VVIDDOVV BRIDE.

Faire shall I name thee, to expresse thy worth!
Nay, thou hast something else to set thee forth,
Then thy externall beautie, which no time
Shall ere deface, and that is truely thine.
Though outward white grac'd with an inward faire,
Vnite in one, exceedeth all compare.
For what may glorious Saints, whose divine feature
Immortaliz'd aboue an humane Creature,
Appropriate vnto themselues saue this,
Though they'r invested with the roabe of blisse!
Pure is their Stole, the State of innocence,
Full be their Lamps of divine influence,
Complete's their Armour, and their order too,
“Thus they attend the Lambe where ere he goe.
And thou terrestriall Angell, who canst giue,
(Though young) example to the old to liue,
Divines what thou shalt be: for I doe see,
All sacred Graces treasured in thee;
As in some curious artfull Cabbinet,
Where Patience shines as a rich Iewellet
Set in a precious Tablet, which may best
Allusion haue to thy vnspotted brest,
Where vertues haue their Mansion: should I speake
More freely of thy Merits? I will seeke
No moderne Modell to conforme the State
Of my affections, or will imitate
Any with affectation, but that grace
Which thou reserues in action, speech, and pace.
Honour of ages, what a Sympathie
Of soule-enthroning vertues workes in thee,
To make thee more affected! Where desire
Of Moderation tempers th'heat of ire;
Content all selfe-repining, and delight
To see another prosper, that base spite
Which worldly Moles expresse from day to day,
In seeing others flourish more then they.
No, thou art Earthly Sainted, and canst taste
What fruit's in Mundane pleasure being past,
When this same Circle of our humane blesse
Quite run about, shall end with wretchednesse
And is not this aboue th'conceit of Man,
That thou the weaker sex shouldst seeme to span,
This abstract of thy life with such respect
Vnto thy soule form'd by that Architect,
Whose glory is thy ayme? Nay, that thy prime
Scarcely arriu'd at th'freshnesse of her time,
Should so disvalue Earth, as to bestow
Thy heart on Heauen, thy frayler part below.
Where life like to a shade, whose vading glorie
Summs vp our discontents as in a Storie,
Gets disesteeme with thee, fixing thine eye
Vpon a more transcendent Emperie.
But that which shall extend thy dayes more long
Then time can limit, is thy suffring wrong,
Smiling at iniuries, as if thy brest
Were of that temper, griefes could not molest,
Nor soile her glorious Mansion, but appeares
More eminent by th'Iniuries shee beares.
I'ue heard indeed, some Womans Nature's such
As they can hardly ever beare too much;
The sense whereof, hows'ere our Criticks take it,
May be confirm'd in thee; for thou doest make it
The Trophie of thy Triumph, and the Crowne
Of all thy Conquest, to be onely knowne
Thy selfe in thy affliction, where reliefe
“In Soules sole solace giues receipt to griefe.
“For Palms pressd downe doe ever rise the more,
“And Spices bruis'd smell sweeter then before.
So as this Sentence verifide may bee,
Thou tyres affliction, not affliction thee.
Mirrour of Women, what a triumph's this,
When there is nought how great soere it is
That can depresse thy Minde below the Sphere
Where it is fixed! For 'tis this I sweare,
And onely this, which moues me to affect
Thy selfe far more then any light respect,
Drawne from the tincture of a moving faire,
Which to minds Beautie's short aboue compare.
For I haue knowne the smoothest sleekest skin,
Soild with the blemish of so foule a sinne
As Beautie lost her lustre by that staine,
Which once made blacke could nere be white againe.
But Thou in both complete, art such an one
As without assentation there is none
May glory more of what shee doth possesse,
Though on my knowledge none doth glory lesse.
And happie hee if hee had knowne his happ,
Who might repose in such a Ladies lapp,
Secure from censure: but how weake is sence
When Reason's darkned through Concupiscence!
Alasse of Error; that our humane eye,
Expos'd to lust and boundlesse libertie,
Should derogate from Man: where if wee knew
How Woman's to expect from Man her dew,
As Man from Woman; we should streight infer
“To thinke of a strange beautie, is to err.
He who did till those flowrie fields, which lay
Like Adons groue nere to the Milkie Way,
If he had knowne what happinesse it is
In mutuall loue t'enioy a mutuall blisse,
Where two diuiduate Soules doe selfely moue
By one vnited Sympathie in loue;
Hee would haue thus concluded sure I am,
“Who dotes on more then's owne is lesse then Man.
But now to thee my lines their loue extend,
Making thy selfe their Centre where they end.
“Thou mildest mould of Matron Modestie,
“Liue as Thou liu'st and gaine eternitie;
Patience shall giue thee convoy, fame renowne,
Both wch contend to reach thee triumphs Crowne.

TO HIS MVCHE-STEEMED FRIEND Sr G. D. Knight;

The accomplish'd issue of his best wishes.

If promise be, as it is said to be
A Debt, you may expect the like of me;
Which tho it be not pai'd, it shall be don
And then your quittance for my Corydon.
Receiue him Sr. for trust mee hee's your owne,
And one that will be knowne where you are known;
Whom if you cherish (as I hope you will)
From yeare to yeare hee'le better's running still,
And grow in time to be a Dogge of prize,
And scorne to spend his mouth in common cries;
For time will come (as I perswaded am)
When hee'le be heard and hallow'd too of Pan.

CORYDON,

OR The Western-Huntsman.

Vpon Censure.

Well , ill, or neither, but indifferent,
How ere your censure be I am content;
For hee's a fauning foole, the Worlds minion,
That onely writes to gaine himselfe opinion.

Vpon his name, to whom his Encomiastick vpon the Common Law was Dedicated.

ASTREA DAVINPORTA Anagram. veni, porta ad astra.

Astreas name and yours doe both agree,
And both I hit, yet both mistaken bee.