The Treasury of Musick :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Treasury of Musick

Containing ayres and dialogues To Sing to the theorbo-lute or basse-viol. Composed

[The First Book]

[Ayres for one or two voyces to the Theorbo Lute, or Basse-Viol]

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[The First Book]

1. [Ayres for one or two voyces to the Theorbo Lute, or Basse-Viol]

A Lovers Melancholy Repose.

Like Hermit poor in pensive place obscure,
I mean to spend my days of endless doubt,
To wail such woes as time cannot recure,
Where none but love shal ever find me out.
And at my gates, and at my gates despair shal linger stil,
To let in death, to let in death when love and fortune wil.

A Gowne of gray my body shall attire,
My staffe of broken hope whereon I'le stay,
Of late repentance linkt with long desire,
The Couch is fram'd whereon my limbs I lay,
And at my gates, &c.

My food shall be of care and sorrow made,
My drink nought else but tears faln from mine eyes,
And for my light in this obscure shade,
The flame may serve, which from my heart arise,
And at my gates,

Loves ingratitude.

Take, O take those lips away,
That so sweetly were forsworn,
& those eys that break of days,
Light that do mislead the morn;
But my kisses bring again
Seals of love though seals in vain.

Hide, O hide those Hils of Snow
That thy frozen Blossome bears;
On whose tops the Pinks that grow,
Are yet of those that April wears:
But first set my poor heart free,
Bound in those Icy Chaines by thee.

Cupid's weak Artillery.

Come Lovers all to me, and cease your mourning:
Love hath no shafts to shoot, no more brands burning:
He means my pains shal you from pains deliver,
For in my brest h'as emptied all his Quiver.
Had he not been a childe he would have known,
H'as lost a thousand servants to kill one.

Love preferring Virtue above Wealth.

She that loves me for my self,
For affection, not base pelf,
Ne'r regarding my descent,
Gesture, feature, but intent,
She, only she, deserves to be belov'd of me.

She that loves me for no end,
But because I am her friend;
Never doubting my desire,
But believ'd it sacred fire:
She, only she, deserves to be belov'd of me.

She that loves me with resolve
Ne're to alter till dissolve;
Slighting all things, that stern fate
May hereafter seem to threat:
She, only she, deserves to be belov'd of me.

A strife betwixt two Cupids reconciled.

About the sweet Bag of a Bee, two Cupids fell at ods;
And whose the pretty prize should be, they vow'd to ask the gods:
Which Venus hearing thither came, and for their boldness stript them,
And taking thence from each his flame, with rods of Mirtle whipt them:
Which done, to still their wanton cryes, and quiet grown sh'ad seen them,
She kist and dry'd their dove-like eyes, and gave the Bag between them.

Venus lamenting her lost Adonis.

Wake my Adonis

Wake my Adonis, do not die, one life's enough for thee and I; where are thy looks, thy wiles thy fears, thy frowns, thy smiles? alas, in vain I call, one death hath snatcht them all; yet death's not deadly in that face death in those looks it self hath grace; 'twas this, 'twas this I fear'd, when thy pale ghost appear'd, this I presag'd, when thundering Jove tore the best Mirtle in my grove, when my sick rose buds lost their smel, & from my temples untoucht fell, and 'twas for some such thing, my Dove first hung her wing. Whither art thou my Deity gone?

Venus in Venus there is none: in vain a godess now am I, only to grieve and not to die: but I wil love my grief, make tears my tears relief, and sorrow shall to me a new Adonis be: And this the fates shan't rob me of whilst I a godess am to grieve and not to die.

To his Love Answering No.

Stay, stay, O stay, that heart, I vow 'tis mine,
Ravish'd from hence by her whose parts divine;
Words cannot fully speak, now seeks her cure,
Whose only No, sent from her lips most pure,
Makes it thus range from me, woe's me that No,
Lost me that heart, and fills its place with wo.

O hold it fast, I come yet let it fly,
I cannot move, 'tis pity both should dy;
Perhaps she may relent, and with one yea
Give us a second life, treble our bliss;
If not, farewell my heart, I've pleas'd mine eyes,
Since thou art lost, sees thee her sacrifice.

On his Loves Absence.

Bring back my comfort and return,
For well thou know'st that I
In such a vigorous passion burn,
That missing thee I dye:
Return, return, insult no more,
Return, return, and me restore
To those sequestred joys I had before.

Absence in most, that quenches love,
And cooles their warm desire;
The ardor of my heat improves,
And makes the flame aspire:
The maxim therefore I deny,
And term it though a tyranny,
The Nurse to Faith, to Love, to Constancy.

Beauty clouded with grief.

Why dearest should you weep, when I relate
The story of my woe?
Let not the swarthy mist of my black fate
O'recast thy beauty so:
For each rich pearl lost on that score
Adds to mischance and wounds, your servant more.

Quench not those stars that to Dy bliss should guide;
O stay that precious teare!
Nor let those drops upon my deluge tyde
To drown thy beauty there,
That cloud of sorrow makes it night,
You lose your Luster, but the World its Light.

On Loves Artillery.

No more blind Boy

No more blind Boy, for see my heart is made thy quiver, where remains no voyd place for another dart; and alas that conquest gains small prayse, that only brings away a tame and unresisting prey: behold a noble Foe all arm'd, desires thy weak Artillery, that hath thy bow and quiver charm'd, a Rebell Beauty conqu'ring thee; if thou dar'st equall combate try, wound her, for 'tis for her I dye.

On the Vicissitudes of Love.

He that will not love, must be my Scholar

He that will not love, must be my Scholar, and learn this of me, there be in love as many fears as the Summer corn hath ears; sighs, and sobs, and troubles more than the sand that makes the shoar: Now an Ague, then a Feaver, both tormenting Lovers ever. Wouldst thou know besides all these, how hard a Woman 'tis to please? how high she's priz'd whose worth's but small? little thou'lt love, or nought at all.

A false designe to be cruel.

[I]

In vain fair Chloris, you designe,
To be cruel, to be kind;
For we know with all your arts,
You never hold but willing hearts;
Men are too wise grown to expire
With broken shafts, and painted fire.

II

And if among a thousand Swains
Some one of Love, or Fate complains;
And all the stars in heav'n defie,
With Cloro's lip, or Celia's eye:
'Tis not their love the Youth would chuse,
But the glory to refuse.

III

Then wisely make your prize of those
Want wit, or courage to oppose;
But tempt me not that can discover
What will redeem the fondest Lover:
And flie the list, lest it appear
Your pow'r is measur'd by our fear.

IV

So the rude wave securely shocks
The yeelding Bark, but the stiff rocks
If it attempt, how soon again
Broke and dissolv'd it fills the Main:
It foams and roars, but we deride
Alike its weakness, and its pride.

Constancy in Love.

[1]

Tis not ith' pow'r of all thy scorn
Or unrelenting hate,
To quench my flames, or make them burn
With heat more temperate:
Still do I struggle with despair,
And ever court disdain;
And though you ne'r prove lesse severe,
Ile dote upon my pain.

2

Yet meaner beauties cannot claime
In Love this tyranny,
They must pretend an equall flame,
Or else our passions die:
You faire Clarinda you alone
Are priz'd at such a rate,
To have a Votary of one
Whom you do reprobate.

On Inconstancy.

[I]

Mistake me not, I am as cold as hot:
Although my tongue betray my heart ore'night,
Ere morn, I'm alter'd quite.

II

Sometime I burn, and straight to Ice I turn,
Ther's nothing so unconstant as my mind,
I change with every wind.

III

Perhaps in jest, I said I lov'd thee best,
But 'twas no more, then what not long before
I vow'd to twenty more.

IV

Then prethee see, thou giv'st no heed to me;
For when I cannot keep my word a day,
What hope hadst thou to stay.

On Womens Inconstancy.

Catch me a Star that's falling from the Skie,
Cause an Immortall creature for to die;
Stop with thy hand the Current of the Seas,
Peirce the earths Center to th'Antipodies;
Cause Time return, and call back Yesterday,
Cloath January like the moneth of May;
Weigh me an ounce of Flame, Blow back the wind;
Then hast thou found Faith in a Womans mind.

A Resolution not to Love.

[I]

Love I must tell thee, Ile no longer be
A Victive to thy beardless Deitie;
Nor shall this heart of mine, now 'tis return'd,
Be offer'd at thy shrine, or at thy Altar burn'd.
Love like Religions made an Ayrie name,
To awe those souls whom want of wit makes tame.

II

Ther's no such thing as Quiver, Shaft, or Bow,
Nor do's Love wound, but we Imagine so:
Or if it do's perplex and grieve the mind,
'Tis the poor masculine sect: women no sorrow find.
'Tis not our parts or person that can move 'um,
Nor is't mens worth, but wealth, makes women love 'um.

III

Reason henceforth, not Love, shall be my guide,
Our fellow Creatures shan't be deifide:
Ile now a Rebell be, and so pull down
That distaffe Hierarchy and females fanci'd crown.
In these unbridled times who will not strive
To free his neck from all prerogative.

A Forsaken Lovers Complaint.

[I]

As I walk'd forth one Summers day,
To view the Medows green and gay,
A pleasant Bower I espide
Standing fast by a river side;
And in't a Maiden I heard cry,
Alas! Alas! ther's none e're lov'd as I.

II

Then round the medow did she walk,
Catching each flower by the stalk;
Such flowers as in the medow grew,
The Dead-mans Thumb, an Hearb all blew.
And as she pull'd them, still cry'd she,
Alas! Alas! none e're lov'd like me.

III

The Flowers of the sweetest sents
She bound about with knotty Bents,
And as she bound them up in Bands
She wept, she sight'd and wrung her hands,
Alas! Alas! Alas! cry'd she,
Alas! none was e're lov'd like me.

IV

When she had fill'd her Apron full
Of such green things as she could cull,
The green leaves serv'd her for a Bed
The Flowers were the Pillow for her head:
Then down she laid, ne'r more did speak;
Alas! Alas! with Love her heart did break.

At a Masque, to invite the Ladies to Dance.

[I]

Come come noble Nymphs & do not hide
The joys for which you so provide;
If not to mingle with us men,
What make you here? go home agen.
Your dressings do confess
By what we see, so curious parts of
Pallas, and Aracknes Arts,
That you could mean no less.

II

Why do you were the Silk-worms toyls?
Or glory in the Shel-fish spoils?
Or strive to shew the grains of Ore
That you have gathered long before?
Whereof to make a Stock
To graff the greener Emrauld on,
Or any better water'd Srone,
Or Ruby of the Rock.

III

Why do you smell of Amber-greece,
Whereof was formed Neptunes Neece,
The Queen of Love? unlesse you can
Like Sea-born-Venus, love a man?
Try, put your selves unto't:
Your Looks, and Smiles, and Thoughts that meet;
Ambrosian-hands, and Silver-feet,
Do promise you will do't.

Loves Scrutiny.

[I]

Why shouldst thou swear I am forsworn,
Since thine I vow'd to be?
Lady it is already morn,
It was last night I swore to thee,
This fond impossibilitie.

II

Have I not lov'd thee much and long,
A tedious twelve houres space?
I should all other Beauties wrong,
And rob thee of a new imbrace,
Should I still dote upon thy face.

III

Not that all Joyes in thy brown hair
By others may be found:
But I will search the black, the fair,
Like skilfull Mineralists that sound
For treasuers in unplowed ground.

IV

Then if when I have lov'd thee round,
Thou prove the pleasant she,
In spoyle of meaner Beauties crown'd,
I laden will return to thee,
Ev'n sated with varietie.

No Beauty without Love.

[I]

Thou art not fayre for all thy red and white,
For all those Rosie ornaments in thee.
Thou art not sweet nor made of meer delight,
Nor fair, nor sweet unless thou pity mee.
I will not, smooth thy fancy, thou shalt prove
That Beauty is no Beauty without Love.

II

Yet love not me, nor seek thou to allure
My thoughts with beauty, were it now divine;
Thy smiles and kisses I cannot indure,
I'le not be wrapt up in those armes of thine.
Now shew if thou be a woman right,
Imbrace, and kisse, and love me in dispite.

Delayes in Love breeds Danger.

[I]

Phillis , why should we delay,
Pleasures shorter than the day?
Could we, which we never can,
Stretch our lives beyond three span,
Beauty like a Shadow flyes,
And our Youth before us dyes.

II

Or would Youth and Beauty stay,
Love ha's wings, and will away;
Love ha's swifter wings than time,
Change in love too oft do's chime;
Gods that never change their state,
Very oft their love and hate.

III

Phillis, to this truth we owe
All the love betwixt us now;
Let not you and I require
What ha's been our past desire;
On what Shepherds you have smil'd,
Or what Nymphs I have beguil'd.

Leave it to the Planets two,
What we shall hereafter do,
For the joy we now may prove,
Take advice of present love.

On Cælia's Coynesse.

[I]

If the quick spirit of your Eye now languish, and anon must dye;
If every sweet and every grace must flye from that forsaken face:
Then Cælia let us reap our joys,
E're time such goodly fruit destroys.

II

Or if that Golden Fleece must grow, for ever free from aged Snow;
If those bright Suns must know no shade, nor your fresh Beauty ever fade;
Then Cælia feare not to bestow,
What still being gather'd, still must grow.

Thus either Time his sickle brings
In vain, or else in vain his wings.

Loves sweet Repose.

Amidst the Mirtles as I walk,
Love and my Sighs thus enter talk;
Tell me said I, in deep distress,
Where I may find my Shepherdess.

Then Fool (said Love) know'st thou not this,
In every thing that's good she is,
In yonder Tulip go and seek,
There thou shalt find her Lip and Cheek.

'Tis true, said I, and thereupon,
And went and pluckt them one by one
To make a part a union,
But on a suddain all was gone.

In that inamell'd Fancy by
There shalt thou find her curious Eye;
In bloom of Peach, in Roses bud
There wave the streams of her bloud.

At which I stopt; said Love, these bee
Fond man, resemblances of thee;
For as these Flowers thy joy must dye,
Even in the turning of an eye.

And all thy hopes of her must wither,
As do those Flowers when knit together.

A Willow Garland sent for a Newyeers-gift.

[I]

A Willow Garland thou didst send
Last day perfum'd to mee,
Which did but onely this portend,
I was forsook of thee.

II

Since that it is, I'le tell the what,
To morrow thou shalt see
Me wear the Willow, after that
To dye upon the tree.

III

As Beasts unto the Alter go
With Garlands, so I
Will with my Willow wreath also
Come forth, and sweetly die.

Loves Victory.

[I]

Victorious Beauty! though your Eyes
Are able to subdue an hoast,
And therefore are unlike to boast
The taking of a little prize,
Do not a single heart despise.

II

I came alone, but yet so arm'd
With former love I durst have sworn
That as that privy coat was worn,
With characters of beauty charm'd,
Thereby I might have scap'd unharm'd.

III

The Conquest in regard of me,
Alas is small! but in respect
Of her that did my Love protect,
Where it divulg'd, deserv'd to be
Recorded for a Victorie.

IV

But neither steel nor stony brasse
Are proofs against those looks of thine,
Nor can a beauty lesse divine,
By any heart be long possest,
Where you intend an interest.

V

And such a one as chance to view
Her lovely face, perhaps may stay,
Though you have stole my heart away;
If all your servants prove not true,
May steal a heart or two from you.

Diswasion from Presumption.

Ladies, you that seem so nice,
And as cold in shew as Ice,
And perhaps have held out thrice,
Do not think but in a trice
One or other may entice,
And at last by some device
Set your honours at a price.

You whose smooth and dainty skin,
Rosie lips, or cheeks, or chin,
All that gaze upon you win;
Yet insult not, sparks within,
Slowly burn ere flames begin,
And presumption still hath bin
Held a most notorious sin.

The Careless Lovers Resolution.

Let longing Lovers sit and pine,
And the forsaken Willow wear,
Love shal not blast this heart of mine,
With ling'ring hope or killing fear:
Ile never love till I enjoy,
Or lose my time on her that's coy.

If Ladies call us to the field,
And all their Colours there display,
Alasse! they needs must to us yield,
Since we are better arm'd than they;
'Tis folly then to beg or whine
For us that are born Masculine.

Then Lovers learn your strength to know,
And you may overcome with ease,
Your enemy fights with a Bow
That cannot wound, unlesse you please;
And he that pines because shee's coy,
Wants wit, or courage, women say.

Disdain.

[I]

Take heed fair Chloris, how you tame
(With your disdain) Amintor's flame.
A noble heart, when once despis'd,
Awels unto such a height of pride,
'Twil rather burst than deign to be
A worshipper of crueltie.

II

You may use common shepherds so,
My flames at last to storms will grow,
And blow such scorn upon thy pride,
Will blast all I have magnifi'd:
You are not fair when Love you lack,
Ingratitude makes all things black.

III

O do not for a flock of sheep,
A golden showre when as you sleep;
Or for the tales ambition tells,
Forsake the house where honor dwels.
In Damons palace you'l ne'r shine
So bright as in these armes of mine.

Loves Fruition.

Tell me not I my time mispend,
'Tis time lost to reprove me:
Enjoy thou thine, I have my End,
So Chloris onely love me.

Tell me not others flocks are full,
Mine poor, let them despise me
That more abound with Milk, and Wool,
So Chloris only prize me.

Try other easier eares with these
Unappertaining Stories;
He never feels the Worlds disease,
That cares not for her Glories.

For pity thou that wiser art,
Whose thoughts lies wide of mine;
Let me alone with my one heart,
And I'le ne'r envy thine.

Nor blame whoever blames my wit,
That seek's no higher prize
Then in unenvy'd Shades to sit,
And sing of Chloris Eyes.

Loves Drollery.

I love thee for thy Fickleness,
And great Inconstancy;
For had'st thou been a constant Lass,
Then thou had'st ne'r lov'd mee.

I love thee for thy Wantonesse,
And for thy Drollerie;
For if thou had'st not lov'd to sport,
Then thou had'st ne're lov'd mee.

I love thee for thy Uglynesse,
And for thy foolerie;
For if thou had'st been fair or wise,
Then thou had'st ne'r lov'd mee.

I love thee for thy poverty,
And for thy want of Coyne;
For if thou hadst beem worth a Groat,
Then thou had'st ne'r been mine.

Then let me have thy heart a while,
And thou shalt have my mony;
Ile part with all the wealth I have,
T'enjoy a Lass so Bonny.

Disdain returned.

[I]

He that loves a Rosie cheek,
Or a Corall lip admires;
Or from Star-like eyes doth seek
Fuel to maintain his fires,
As old Time makes these decay,
So his flames must waste away.

II

But a smooth and stedfast mind,
Gentle thoughts, and calm desires,
Hearts with equall love combin'd,
Kindle never-dying fires:
Where these are not, I despise
Lovely Cheeks, or Lips or Eyes.

III

Cælia, now no tears can win
My resolv'd heart to return;
I have search'd thy soul within,
And find nought but pride and scorn:
I have learn'd those Arts, and now
Can disdain as much as thou.

Some God in my revenge convey
That Love to her I cast away.

Loves Content.

Dear, leave thy home, and come with mee,
That scorn the world for love of thee:
Here we will live within this Park,
A Court of joy and pleasures Ark.

To his Forsaken Mistresse.

[I]

I do confess th'art smooth and fair,
And I might ha' gon neer to love thee,
Had I not found the sleightest pray'r
That lip could move, had pow'r to move thee.
But I can let thee now alone,
As worthy to be lov'd by none.

II

I do confess th'art sweet, yet find
Thee such an Unthrift of thy Sweets;
Thy favours are but like the wind,
Which kisseth ev'ry thing it meets:
And since thou canst with more than one,
Th'art worthy to be kiss'd by none.

III

The morning Rose that untoutch'd stands,
Arm'd with her briars, how sweet shee smels!
But pluck'd, and strain'd through ruder hands,
Her sweets no longer with her dwels;
But Sent and Beauty both are gone,
And Leaves fall from her one by one.

IV

Such Fate e're long will thee betide,
When thou hast handled been a while,
With sear Flow'rs to be thrown aside;
And I shall sigh when some will smile,
To see thy love to ev'ry one
Hath brought thee to be lov'd by none.

To a Lady singing.

While I listen to thy voice, Chloris

While I listen to thy voice, Chloris, I feel my life decay, that pow'rfull noise calls my fleeting soul away; O suppress that magick sound, which destroyes without a wound! Peace, peace, Chloris, peace, or singing dye, that together thou and I to heav'n may go; for all we know of what the blessed do above, is that they sing, and that they love.

On a Bleeding Lover.

[I]

A lover once I did espy,
With bleeding heart and weeping eye;
He wept and cry'd, How great's his pain,
That lives in love, and loves in vain.

II

Can there (says he) no cure be found,
But by the hand that gave the wound?
Then let me dye, which I'le indure,
Since she wants charity to cure.

III

Yet let her one day feel the pain,
To wish she had cur'd, and wish in vain;
For wither'd cheeks may chance recover
Some sparks of love, but not a Lover.

Two Songs in the Play of The Royal Slave.

Come from the Dungeon to the Throne

Come from the Dungeon to the Throne, to be a King, and straight be none: Reign then a while, that thou mayst be fitter to fall by majestie: So Beasts for sacrifice we feed, first they are crown'd, and then they bleed, they bleed.

Love and Musick.

Come my Sweet, whilest ev'ry Strain cals our Souls into the Ear

Come my Sweet, whilest ev'ry Strain cals our Souls into the Ear, where the greedy listning fain would turn into the sound they hear; lest in desire to fill the quire, themselves they tie to harmony, let's kiss and call them back again.

A Resolution in choice of a Mistresse.

[I]

Wert thou yet fairer then thou art,
Which lies not in the pow'r of Art;
Or had'st thou in thine Eyes more Darts,
Then Cupids ever shot at Hearts;
Yet if they were not thrown at me,
I would not cast a Thought at thee.

II

I'de rather marry a disease,
Then court the thing I cannot please:
She that would cherish my desires
Must court my flames with equall fires:
What pleasure is there in a Kiss
To him that doubts the Heart's not his?

III

I love thee not 'cause thou art fair,
Softer than down, smoother than air;
Not for the Cupids that do lye
In either corner of thine Eye:
Would you then know what it might be?
'Tis I love you 'cause you love me.

Inconstancy in Love.

[I]

To love thee without Flattery were a Sin,
Since thou art all Inconstancy within;
Thy Heart is govern'd onely by thine Eyes,
The Newest object is thy Richest prize:
Love mee then just as I love thee,
That's till a fairer I can see.

II

My thoughts are now at liberty, and can
Love all that's fair, as you can all that's man;
I never will hereafter think it strange
To see thee please thy Appetite with change:
No! love me just as I love thee,
That's till a fairer I can see.

III

I hate this constant doting on a Face,
Content ne're dwelt a Week in any place;
Why then should you and I love one another
Longer then we can be content together?
Love mee then just as I love thee,
That's till a fairer I can see.

Discontent.

I prethee turn that Face away,
Whose splendor but benights the day;
Sad Eyes like mine, and wounded Hearts,
Shun the bright rayes which Beauty darts;
Unwelcome is the Sun that pries
Into those Shades where sorrow lies:
Go shine on happy things, to me,
That blessing is a miserie;
Whom thy fierce Sun not warms but burns,
Like that the Sooty Indian turns;
I'le serve the night, and there confin'd;
Wish thee less fair or else more kind.

Loves Votary.

Bid me but live, and I will live, thy Votary to be;
or bid me love, and I will give a loving heart to thee.

A heart as soft, a heart as kind, a heart as soundly free
As in the world thou canst not find, that heart I'le give to thee.

Bid me to weep, and I will weep, while I have eyes to see,
Or having none, yet I will keep a heart to weep for thee.

Bid that heart stay, and it shall stay, and honour thy decree,
Or bid it languish quite away and it shall do't for thee.

Thou art my love, my life my heart, the very eye of mee,
And hast command of every part, to live and dye for thee.

To Aurelia.

Bright Aurelia, I do owe
All the woe
I can know
To those glorious looks alone,
Though you are unrelenting stone;
The quick lightning from your eyes,
Did sacrifice,
My unwise, my unwary harmless heart,
And now you glory in my smart.

How unjustly you do blame
That pure flame,
From you came.
Vext with what your selfe may burn,
Your scorns to tinder did it turn.

The least sparke now Love can call
That does fall
On the small
Scorcht remainder of my heart,
Will make it burn in every part.

Loves Flattery.

Ladies fly from loves smooth tale,
Oaths steept in tears do oft prevail,
Grief is infectious, and the air
Inflam'd with sighs wil blast the fair;
Then stop your ears when Lovers cry,
Lest yourselves weep, when no lost eye
Shall with a sorrowing tear repay
That pity which you cast away.

To Chloris.

[I]

Come Cloris leave thy wandring sheep,
Thou shalt more amorous creatures keep;
And be the only envi'd Dame
That moves upon this grassie frame:
For thou shalt Herds of Cupids have,
And Love and I will be thy slave.

II

Nymphs, Satyres, and the Sylvian Fawns,
Shall leave the Woods and narrow Lawns
To wait on Cloris, and adore
Their Cytherea; now no more
The name of Cloris shall create
A servitude in every state.

III

In yonder Mirtle grove wee'l dwell
With more content then tongue can tell,
Where hungry Moles shall not afright
Thy tender Lambs or thee by night:
There we the wanton theeves will play,
And steal each others hearts away.

Seeming Coyness.

[I]

Ambitious Love, farwel;
You are to troublesome a Guest
To affect what doth excell;
And to be ever at a Feast;
Is not the cheapest freest diet,
Less in joy and less in quiet:
Be proud who list Fetters of Gold to wear,
I like no tedious ceremonious cheer.

II

I'le take such as I find,
So it be good, and handsome drest,
Pretty, looking freely, kinde,
To a good appetite is best.
If your Usage do not please you,
Change is near you Change will ease you:
Tempest and Feasts the wisest disaffect,
Let it suffice you find no disrespect.

III

Seek not the highest place,
The lowest commonly is most free
Less subject to disgrace,
Others eyes, or your jealousies.
Bold Freedome will improve your taste,
When awe imbitters a repast:
A doating fancy is a foolish Guest,
The freest welcome makes the sweetest Feast.

IV

It is not Natures way,
She made Love no such busie thing,
She meant it a short lay,
A Common-Weal without a King.
Her love on ev'ry edge doth grow,
Her Fruits are best in Taste and Shew;
Her Sweets extend unto the meanest Clown,
Often most fair, though in a Russet Gown.

Loves Bachinall.

Lay that sullen Garland by thee,
Keep it for th'Elizium shades;
Take my wreath of lusty Ivy,
Not of that faint Mirtle made;
When I see thy soul descending
To that cold unfertile Plain
Of sad fools the Lake attending,
Thou shalt wear this Crown again.

Now drink wine, and know the ods
'Twixt that Lethe, 'twixt that Lethe,
'Twixt that Lethe, and the Gods.

Rouse thy dull and drowsie spirits,
Here's the soul reviving streams,
The stupid Lovers brain inherits
Nought but vain and empty dreams.

Think not thou these dismall trances,
Which our raptures can content,
The Lad that laughs, sings and dances,
Shall come soonest to his end.

Cho.

Sadnesse may some pity move,
Mirth and courage, mirth and courage,
Mirth and courage conquers love.

Fy then on that cloudy fore-head,
Ope thou vainly crossed armes;
Thou mayst as well call back the buried
As raise Love by such like charmes.

Sacrifice a glasse of Clarret
To each letter of her name;
Gods have oft descended for it,
Mortals must do more the same.

If she comes not at that flood,
Sleep will come sleep will come,
Sleep will come and that's as good.

Platonick Love.

[I]

Change Platonicks, change for shame,
Get your selves another name.
This is but a thin disguise,
And betray'd to common eyes:
Dim and purblind though they bee,
Your Philosophy they see
Is but Lay Hypocrisie,
And a kind of Heresie.

II

Plato ne'r allow'd a Kiss,
Nor the like fantastick bliss,
All the day sit and Ca Goll
With Sir Amorous La Fool;
Ne'r dreamt of that delight
Which a Ball presents at night,
To apt you to what follows next,
Only you corrupt the Text.

III

Yet must Plato justifie
All your wanton vanitie,
When indeed the truth to say,
'Tis Opinion that doth sway.
Is a meer Court-Frippery,
You act but yet most formerly
What your Sex was wont to do
Many hundred years ago.

Love Neglected.

Little love serves my turn, 'tis so enflaming,
Rather then I will burn I will leave gaming;
For when I think upon't, O! 'tis so painful,
'Cause Ladies have a trick, to be disdainfull.
Beauty shall court it selfe, 'tis not worth speaking,
Ile no more Amorous pangs, no more heart-breaking:
Those that ne'r felt the smart, let them go try it,
I have redeem'd my heart now I defie it,
No more, no more, I must give o're; for Beauty is so sweet,
It makes me pine, distracts my mind, and surfeit when I see't.
Forgive me Love, if I remove into some other sphear,
Where I may keep a flock of sheep, and know no other care.

Lovers Wantonnesse.

[I]

See, see, how carless men are grown
Of Love and Loving in our days,
Every ones Heart is now his owne;
His Eyes upon no object stays,
But baits a while and goes his ways.

II

Shall Beauty that was wont to reign
Un-rivall'd in each noble breast,
Command by turns, or else in vain;
And by new fashion'd minds deprest,
Become an Inn, and love a Guest.

III

Sure they suppose her of Glasse,
And let her first on purpose fall,
Then peice-meal would pick up this Masse,
That for one Beauty bow to all,
And change of Fetters, Freedome call.

IV

Though lowly minded, I will stand
With such for place, and at no rate
Give Rebell Lovers th'upper hand,
That every day new Lords create;
I serve a Monarch, they a State.

Venus to her Adonis.

Come Adonis, come away

Come Adonis, come away, what distaste could drive the hence, where so much delight doth reign, sotting ev'n the soul of Sense? and though thou unkind hast prov'd, never Youth was so belov'd: Then lov'd Adonis, come away, for Venus brooks, for Venus brooks not this delay, for Venus brooks not this delay.

Loves Flattery.

I can love for an hour when I'm at leasure,
He that loves half a day fools without measure:
Cupid then tell me what art had thy mother,
To make men love one face more than another?

Some to be thought more wise daily endevour
To make the World believe they can live for ever:
Ladies believe them not, they'l but deceive you,
For when they have their ends then they will leave you.

Men cannot tyre themselves on your sweet features,
They'l have variety of loving Creatures.
Too much of any thing sets them a cooling,
Though they can never do't, yet they'l be fooling.

Inconstancie in Women.

[I]

I am confirm'd a woman can,
Love this, or that, or any man;
This day her love is melting hot,
Tomorrow swears she knows you not;
Let her but an new object find,
And she is of another mind:
Then hang me Ladies at your dore,
If e're I dote upon you more.

II

Yet still I'le love the fair one, why?
For nothing but to please mine eye;
And so the fat and soft skinn'd Dame
I'le flatter, to appease my flame;
For her that's Musicall I long,
When I am sad to sing a Song:
But hang me Ladies, &c.

III

I'le give my fancy leave to range
Through every face to find out change:
The black, the brown, the fair shall be
But objects of varietie:
I'le court you all to serve my turn,
But with such flames as shall not burn:
For hang me Ladies, &c.

A Lovers Legacy.

Fain would I Chloris e're I die
Bequeath you such a Legacie,
As you might say when I am gon,
None has the like! My heart alone
Were the best gift I could bestow,
But that's already yours you know:
So that till you my Heart resigne,
Or fill with yours the place of mine;
And by that grace my store renew,
I shall have nought worth giving you,
Whose Brest has all the wealth I have,
Save a faint Carcase, and a Grave:
But had I as many Hearts as Hairs,
As many Loves as Love has Fears,
As many Lives as Years have Hours,
They should be all and only yours.

Loves Martyr.

[I]

How long shall I a Martyr be
To Love and Womans cruelty?
Or why doth sullen Fate confine
My heart to one that is not mine:
Had I er'e lov'd as others do,
But only for an hour or two,
Then there had store of reason bin
Why I should suffer for my sin.

II

But Love, thou knowest with what a flame
I have ador'd my Mistress name:
How I ne'r offered other fires
But such as rose from chaste desires:
Nor have I ere prophaned thy shrine
With an inconstant fickle minde;
Yet thou combining with my Fate,
Hath forc'd my love and her to hate.

III

O Love! if her supremacie
Have not a greater power then thee,
For pity sake then once be kind,
And throw a dart to change her mind:
Thy deity we shall suspect,
If our reward must be neglect.
Then make her love, or let me be
Inspir'd with scorn as well as she.

Amintor for his Chloris absence.

[I]

Tell me you wandering spirits of the Air,
Did you not see a Nymph more bright, more fair
Than Beauties darling, or of parts more sweet
Than stolne content? If such a one you meet,
Wait on her hourly where so e're she flies,
And cry, and cry, Amintor for her absence dies.

II

Go search the Vallies, pluck up every Rose,
You'l find a sent, a blush of her in those:
Fish, fish for Pearle, or Corall, there you'l see
How orientall all her colours bee.
Go call the Ecchoes to your aide, and cry,
Chloris, Chloris, for that's her name for whom I dy.

III

But stay a while, I have inform'd you ill,
Were shee on earth she had been with me still:
Go fly to Heaven, examine every Sphere,
And try what Star hath lately lighted there;
If any brighter than the Sun you see,
Fall down, fall down, and worship it, for that is shee.

Love in a Calme.

[I]

How cool and temperate I am grown,
Since I could call my heart my own?
Beauty and I now calmly play,
Whilst others burn and melt away:
Not all those wanton hours I have spent,
Can rob me of this new content.

II

Loves mists are scattered from my sight,
Which flattered me with new delight,
And now I see 'tis but a face
That stole my heart out of its place:
Then Love forgive me, I'le no more
Thine Altars or thy Shrine adore.

III

Farewell to all heart-breaking eyes,
Farewell each look that can surprize,
Farewell those curls and amorous spels,
Farewell each place where Cupid dwels;
And farewell each bewitching smile,
I must enjoy my selfe a while.

Loves Shepherdesse.

In faith I cannot keep my Sheep

In faith I cannot keep my Sheep, since first I grew to be in love: whilst my poor Flock a wandring creep, and I to Fate a Shepherd am; Love, first in love, in love, I first began.

Love without Additionals.

[I]

Of the kind boy I ask no red and white
To make up my delight,
No odd becoming graces,
Black eyes, or little know not what's in Faces;
Make me but mad enough, give me good store
Of Love, for her I court,
I ask no more;
'Tis Love in Love that makes the sport.

II

There's no such thing as that, we Beauty call,
It is meer couzenage all;
For though some long ago
Lik't certain colours mingled so and so,
That doth not tie me now from chusing new,
If I a fancy take
To black and blew,
That fancy doth it Beauty make.

II

'Tis not the meat, but 'tis the appetite
Makes eating a delight;
And if I like one dish
More than another, that a Phesant is:
What in our Matches, may in us be found,
So to the height, and nick
We up be bound,
No matter by what hand or trick.

A Frozen Heart made warm by Love.

Go, go, and bestride the Southern wind

Go, go, and bestride the Southern wind, fly, O forlorn! nor look behind, till thou the glazed Ocean hast past and Climes unknown to man, laid on a snow-rais'd mountain, bear the bosome to the freezing air; and if those colds be not so great to quench, but they thaw with thy heat her far more cold disdain, apply thine own despair and will to dye; and when by these congeal'd to stone, then will her heart and thine be one.

False Love reproved.

[I]

By all thy Glories willingly I go,
Yet could have wish'd thee constant in thy love;
But since thou needs must prove
Uncertain as is thy Beauty,
Or as the Glass that shews it thee,
My hopes thus soon to overthrow,
Shows thee more fickle; but my flames by this
Are easier quencht than his,
Whom flattering smiles betray;
'Tis tyrannous delay
Breeds all the harm,
And makes that fire consume, which should but warm.

II

Till time destroy those blossomes of thy youth,
Thou art our Idol-worship, at that rate,
But who can tell thy fate?
And say that when this Beauties done,
This Lovers Torch shall still burn on;
I could have serv'd thee with such truth
Devoutest Pilgrims to their Saints do show,
Departed long ago;
And at this ebbing tyde,
Have us'd thee as a Bride
Who's only true
Whilst you are fair, he loves himself, not you.

Loves torrid Zone.

[I]

No, no, fair Heretick,
It cannot be,
But an ill love in mee,
And worse for thee;
For were it in my pow'r
To love thee now this hour,
More than I did the last, 'twould then so fall,
I might not love at all:
Love that can flow, and can admit encrease,
Admits as well an ebb, and may grow lesse.

II

True love is still the same
The Torrid Zones,
And those more frigid ones
It must not know:
For love grown cold, or hot
Is lust and friendship, not
The think we have, for that's a flame would dye,
Held down, or up too high;
Then think I love, more than I can expresse,
And would know more, could I but love thee lesse.

To his Chloris at Parting.

[I]

Fain would I Chloris whom my heart adores,
Longer a while between thine arms remain;
But loe, the jealous morn her Rosie dores
To spight me ope's, and brings the day again.
Farewell, farewell, Chloris, 'tis time I dy'd,
The night departs, yet still my woes abide.

II

Hence saucy flearing Candle of the Skies,
Let us alone we, have no need of thee:
Our eyes are ever day, where Chloris eyes
Shine, that a pair of brighter Tapers bee,
Farewell, farewell, &c.

III

O night! whose sable vaile was wont to be
More friend to Lovers, than the noisefull day:
Wherefore, O wherefore do'st thou fly from me,
And carry with thee all my joys away?
Farewell, farewell, &c.

Coyness in Love.

What means this Strangenesse now of late?
Since Time doth Truth approve:
This distance may consist with State;
It cannot stand with Love.

'Tis either cunning or distrust,
That do such ways allow:
The first is base, the last injust;
Let neither blemish you.

If you intend to draw me on,
You over act your part:
And if it be to have me gon,
You need not halfe this Art.

Speak but a word, or do but cast
One Look that seems to frown,
I'le give you all the love that's past,
The rest shall be mine own.

And such a faire and equall way
On both sides none can blame,
Since every man is bound to play
The fairest of his Game.

Love possest.

I wish no more thou shouldst love mee,
My joys are full in loving thee;
My heart's too narrow to contain
My blisse, if thou shouldst love me again.

Thy scorn may wound me, but my fate
Leads me to love, and thee to hate;
Yer I must love while I have breath,
For not to love were worse than death.

Then shall I sue for scorn or grace,
A lingring life, or death embrace;
Since one of these I needs must try,
Love me but once and let me dy.

Such mercy more thy fame shall raise,
Than cruell life can yield thee praise;
It shall be counted who so dies,
No murder, but a sacrifice.

A Lovers Resolution.

[I]

Tell not I dye, or that I live by thee,
And as thou points my doom, so it must be:
Or that my life (didst thou but leave to love,)
Would like a long disease, as weary prove:
Since he whose mind is proof against his fate,
Makes himself happy at the worst estate.

II

'Tis vanity for a man to build his blisse
On the frail favour of a womans kisse;
And most unmanly to enthrall his eye,
When Heaven and Nature gives it liberty:
Since Womens fancies with their fashions change,
To love for fashion to each face that's strange.

III

I know the humour of your Sex is such
You ne'r could value any one thing much;
For should thy brest with constant flames be fir'd,
'Twere more then I expected, although desir'd:
Then think me not so fond, although I love,
But as thou stear'st thy course, so mine shal move.

IV

He that hath wealth, and can that wealth for-goe,
Is his own man, nor slave to any woe;
Thus arm'd with resolution, I am free,
Still o'recommer of my destinie:
Yet know I love, thou I can leave the state,
He best knows how to love, knows how to hate.

The Primrose.

Ask me why I send you here,
This firstling of the Infant year?
Ask me why I send to you,
This Primrose all be-pearl'd with dew?
I must whisper to your Eares,
The sweets of Love are wash'd with tears.

Ask me why this Rose doth show
All yellow, green, and sickly too?
Ask me why the stalk is weak,
And yeelding each way, yet not break?
I must tell you, These discover
What doubts and fears are in a Lover.

Cupid's Embassage.

[I]

Go little winged Archer and convey
A flaming dart
Into her heart,
Then steal away
As soon as thou hast set her all on fire,
And left her burning in her chaste desire.

II

Thus teach her what it is to love, that she
When that her eyes
Do tyrannize
May pity me;
And know the flame that hath my heart possest
By the distemper of her scorched breast.

III

And when she burns if she appease my flame
With smiles which fly,
Oft as her eye,
I'le do the same;
So may we love, and burn, but ne'r expire,
While we add fuell to each others fire.

Coridon to his Phillis.

Come lovely Phillis since it thy will is,
To crown thy Coridon with daffadilles.
With many kisses, as sweet as this is,
I will repay to multiply thy blisses.
Here I will hold thee,
And thus enfold thee,
Free from harms within these arms.

Sweet, still be smiling, 'tis sweet beguiling
Of tedious hours and sorrows best exiling;
For if you lowre, the bankes no power
Will have to bring forth any pleasant flower;
Your eyes not granting
Their raies enchanting,
Mine may raine, but 'twere in vain.

Thine eyes may wonder that mine asunder
Do from the Sun-shine draw thine to sit under;
Hold me unblam'd, to be enflam'd,
Where not to be so, youth were rather sham'd:
Since that the oldest
That thou beholdest
May feele fire of loves desire.

On Chloris attractive Beauty.

Cloris , farewell, I now must go,
For if with thee I here doe stay,
Thine eyes prevail upon me so,
I shall grow blind and lose my way.

Fame of thy Beauty, and thy Youth
Amongst the rest me hither brought;
Finding this fame fall short of truth,
Made me stay longer than I thought.

For thou may'st say 'twas not thy fault
That thou did'st thus unconstant prove;
Thou wert by my example taught
To break thy oath, to mend thy love.

For I'm engag'd by word and oath
A servant to anothers will;
Yet for thy love would forfeit both,
Could I be sure to keep it still.

No Chloris, no, I will return,
And raise thy story to that height,
That Strangers shall at distance burn,
And she distrust me Reprobate.

But what assurance can I take,
When thou fore-knowing this abuse,
For some more worthy Lovers sake,
May'st leave me with so just excuse.

Then shall my love this doubt displace,
And gain such trust, that I may come
And banquet sometimes on thy face,
But make my constant meals at home.

Clora forsaken, thus complains.

Chloris false love made Clora weep,
And by a river side
Her flock which she was wont to keep,
Neglecting thus she cry'd:

Is't not Injustice, O ye Gods!
To kindle my desire,
And to leave his at so much ods,
As there's no mutual fire.

Poor victory, to peirce a heart
That was a tender one,
But cowardise to spare your dart
From his that was a stone.

As she thus mourn'd, the tears that fell
Down from her love-sick eyes,
Did in the water drop and swell,
And into bubbles rise.

Yet as I lessen multiply,
But in lesse form appears,
Thus do I languish from mine eye,
And grow new in my tears.

Wherein her bloubard face appears,
Now out alas, said she,
How do I melt away in tears
For him that loves not me.

Break not that Christall, circles me
Sweet streams by your fair side,
My love perhaps may walking be,
And I may be espi'd.

And thus in little drawn and drest
In sad tears attire,
May force such passions from his brest,
Shall equall my desire.

Reciprocal Love.

[I]

I love a Lasse, but cannot show it,
I keep a fire that burns within,
Rak'd up in embers: Ah could she know it,
I might perhaps be lov'd again:
For a true love may justly call
For friendship love reciprocall.

II

Some gentle courteous winde betray me,
A sigh by wispering in her ear,
Or let some pitious shower convey me,
By dropping on her breast a tear,
Or two, or more; the hardest flint,
By often drops receives a dint.

III

Shall I then vex my heart and rend it,
That is already too too weak;
No, no, they say, Lovers may send it,
By writing what they cannot speak:
Go then my Muse, and let this verse
Bring back my Life, or else my Hearse.

On Loves deceitful Charmes.

[I]

I will not trust thy tempting graces,
Nor thy deceitfull charms,
Nor pris'ner be to thy imbraces,
Or fetter'd in thine arms:
No Celia, no, not all thy art
Can wound or captivate my heart.

II

I will not gaze upon thine eyes,
Nor wanton with thy haire,
Lest those should burn me by surprize,
Or these my soul insnare:
Nor with those smiling dangers play,
Or fool my liberty away.

III

Since then my weary heart is free,
And unconfin'd as thine;
If thou would'st mine should captive be,
Thou must thine own resigne:
And Gratitude shall thus move more
Than Love or Beauty could before.

Beauty a fading Ornament.

[I.]

Let not thy Beauty make thee proud,
Though Princes do adore thee,
Since time and sickness were alow'd
To mow such flowers before thee.

II.

Nor be not shy to that degree
Thy friends may hardly know thee,
Nor yet so coming, or so free,
That every fly may blow thee;
A state in every Princely brow,
As decent is requir'd,
Much more in thine, to whom they bow
By Beauties lightnings fir'd.

III.

And yet a state so sweetly mixt
With an attractive mildness;
It may like Vertue sit betwixt
The extreams of pride and vileness.
Then every eye that sees thy face
Will in thy Beauty glory,
And every tongue that wags will grace
Thy vertue with a story.

Beauty in Eclipse.

Tell me no more her Eyes are like
To rising Suns, that wonder strike;
For if 'twere so, how could it be,
They could be thus eclips'd to me?

Tell me no more her Breasts do grow
Like rising Hills of melting Snow;
For if 'twere so, how could they lye
So near the Sun-shine of her eye?

Tell me no more the restless Spheares
Compar'd to her voyce, fright our ears;
For if 'twere so, how then could death
Dwell with such discord in her breath?

No, say her Eyes Portenders are
Of ruine, or some blazing starre,
Else would I feel from that fair fire
Some heat to cherish my desire.

Say that her Breasts, though cold as Snow,
Are hard as Marble, when I wooe;
Else they would soften and relent
With sighs inflamed, from me sent.

Say that although like to the Moon.
She heavenly fair, yet chang'd as soon;
Else she would constant once remain
Either to pity or disdain.

That so by one of them I might
Be kept alive, or murther'd quite;
For 'tis no less cruell there to kill,
Where life doth but increase the ill.

Cupid detected.

Silly Heart forbear, those are murd'ring Eyes,
In the which I swear Cupid lurking lies:
See his Quiver, see his Bow; to see his Dart,
Fly, O fly! thou foolish Heart.

Greedy Eyes, take heed, they are scorching Beams
Causing Hearts to bleed, & your Eyes spring streams:
Love lies watching with his Bow bent, and his Dart
For to wound both Eyes and Heart.

Think and gaze your fill, foolish Heart and Eyes,
Since you love your ill, and your good despise:
Cupid Shooting, Cupid Darting, and his Band
Mortal powers cannot withstand.

Loves Flattery.

When Cælia, I intend to flatter you,
And tell you lyes to make you true,
I swear There's none so fair,
And you beleive it too.

Oft have I matcht you with the Rose, and said
No twins so like hath nature made,
But 'tis
Only in this,
You prick my hand and fade.

When I praise your skin I quote the wooll
That Silk-worms from their Entrailes pull,
And show
That new fallen snow,
Is not more beautifull.

Oft have I said there is no pretious stone
But may be found in yon alone;
Though I
No stone espy,
Unlesse your heart be one.

Yet grow not proud by such Hyperboles
Were you as excellent as these
Whilst I
Before you ly,
They might be had with ease.

Loves Theft.

How am I chang'd from what I was
Before I saw those Eyes?
I had a heart, but now alas,
That room is fill'd with sighs,

For she that robb'd me, would not stay
To let me ask her why
She stol't or beg, she'd find some way
This theft with hers t'supply.

Thus am I left to court my grief,
For when she's out of sight,
There can on earth be no relief,
Or ought that's true delight.

I'le therefore on some River side
Wander to breath my woe,
And ask those Nymphs how Hylas dy'd
That I might do so too.

Power of Love.

[I]

Since love hath in thine and mine eye
Kindled a holy flame,
What pity 'twere to let it dye,
What sin to quench the same?
The stars that seem extinct by day,
Disclose their flames at night,
And in a sable sense convey
Their loves in beams of light.

II

So when the jealous Eye and Ear
Are shut or turn'd aside,
Our Tongues, our Eyes, may talk sans fear
Of being heard or spi'd.
What though our Bodies cannot meet
Loves fuels more divine;
The fixt stars by their twinkling greet,
And yet they never joyn.

III

False Meteors that do change their place,
Though they shine fair and bright;
Yet when they covet to embrace,
Fall down and lose their light.
Thus while we shall preserve from waste
The flame of our desire,
No vestall shall maintain more chaste,
Or more immortal fire.

IV

If thou perceive thy flame decay,
Come light thine Eyes at mine;
And when I feel mine waste away
I'le take new fire from thine.

A Motive to Love.

Faith be no longer coy,
But let's enjoy
What's by the world confest,
Women love best:
Thy Beauty fresh as May
Will soon decay,
Besides within a year or two
I shal be old, and cannot doe.

Do'st think that nature can
For every man,
Had she more skill, provide
So fair a Bride?
Who ever had a Feast
For a single Guest?
No, without she did intend
To serve the Husband and his friend.

To be a little nice
Sets better price
On Virgins, and improves
Their Servants loves;
But on the riper years
It ill appears:
After a while you'l find this true,
I need provoking more then you.

On Liberty.

How happy'rt thou and I that never knew how to love?
Ther's no such blessing here beneath, what e're there is above;
'Tis liberty, 'tis liberty, that every wise man loves.

Out, out upon those Eyes, that think to murder mee,
And he's an Asse beleives her fair, that is not kind and free:
Ther's nothing sweet, ther's nothing sweet to man, but Liberty.

I'le tye my Heart to none, nor yet confine mine Eyes,
But I will play my Game so well, I'le never want a prize:
'Tis liberty, 'tis liberty, has made me now thus wise.

Beauty and Love at ods.

Beauty and Love once fell at ods,
And thus revil'd each other:
Quoth Love, I am one of the gods,
And you wait on my mother;
Thou hast no pow'r ore man at all,
But what I gave to thee;
Nor art thou longer fair or sweet,
Then men acknowledge me.

Away fond Boy, then Beauty said,
We see that thou art blind,
But men have knowing eyes, and can
My graces better find:
'Twas I begot thee, Mortals know,
And call'd thee Blind desire;
I made thy Arrows, and thy Bow,
And Wings to kindle fire.

Love here in anger flew away,
And straight to Vulcan pray'd
That he would tip his shafts with scorn,
To punish this proud Maid:
So Beauty ever since hath bin
But courted for an hour,
To love a day is now a sin
'Gainst Cupid and his power.

Love admits no Delay.

Come, O come, I brook no stay,
She doth not love that can delay;
See how the stealing Night
Hath blotted out the light,
And Tapers do supply the day.

To be Chaste is to be Old,
And that foolish Girle that's cold
Is fourscore at fifteen,
Desires do write us green;
And looser Flames our Youth unfold.

See the first Taper's almost gon,
Thy flame like that will straight be none,
And I as it expire,
Not able to hold fire;
She loseth Time that lyes alone.

Let us cherish then these powers
Whiles we yet may call them ours;
Then we best spend our Time,
When no Dull Zealous Chime,
But sprightfull kisses strike the hour.

The Anglers Song.

[_]

For 2 Voc. Treble and Bass.

Mans Life is but vain

Mans Life is but vain, for 'tis subject to pain and sorrow, and short as a Bubble; Tis a Hodg Podg of businesse, and Money and Care, and Care and Mony, and trouble. But we'l take no Care when the Weather proves Fair, nor will we Vex now though it Rain; wee'l banish all Sorrow, and Sing till to morrow, and Angle and Angle again.

On Attractive Beauty.

[I]

Dost see how unregarded now
That piece of Beauty passes?
There was a time when I did vow
To that alone, but mark the fate of Faces;
That Red and White works now no more on me,
Than if it could not charm, or I not see.

II

And yet the Face continues good,
And I have still desires;
Am still the self-same Flesh and Blood,
As apt to melt, and suffer for those fires:
Oh some kind power unriddle where it lyes,
Whether my Heart be faultie or her Eyes.

III

She every day her man doth kill,
And I as often dye;
Neither her Power then, nor my Will
Can question'd be, what is the Mysterie?
Sure Beauties Empires, like to greater States,
Have certain Periods set, and Hidden Fates.

Power of Love.

Brightest, since your pitying Eye
Saves whom it once condemn'd to die,
Whom lingering Time did long dismay,
You have reliev'd in this short day:
Propitious gods themselves can do no more;
Slow to Destroy, but active to restore.

From your Fair, but absent Look,
Cold Death her Pale Artilory took;
Till Gentle Love that Dart supprest,
And Lodg'd a Milder in your brest;
Like Fam'd Acchillis mystick spear, thus you
Both scatter Wounds, and scatter Balsame too.

The Jovial Begger.

From Hunger and Cold who liveth more free

From Hunger and Cold who liveth more free, and who so richly choathed as we? Our Bellies are full, and our Flesh it is Warm, and against Pride our Rags is a Charm: Enough is a Feast to Morrow, Let rich men take care, we feel no Sorrow.

A Protest against Love.

No, no, I never was in Love,
Nor ever hope to be;
I have an Art protects my Heart
From that fond Lunacie.
And yet I know that I have seen
A world of Taking Faces;
And spent much time in finding out
Their several hidden Graces.

This Lady for her pretty Shape
I often have admir'd:
That for her Fancy and her Wit;
I sometimes have desir'd.
But yet I never was in Love,
Nor ever hope to be:
Unless some Stronger Influence
Do draw my heart to thee.

The Excellency of Wine.

'Tis Wine that inspires,
And quencheth Love's fires,
Teaches fools how to rule a State;
Maids ne'r did approve it,
Because those that love it,
Despise and laugh at their hate.

The Drinkers of Beer,
Did ne'r yet appear,
In matters of any Weight;
'Tis he whose designe,
Is quickn'd by Wine,
That raises things to their height.

We then should it prize,
For never black-Eyes
Made Wounds which this could not heal,
Who then doth refuse
To drink of this Juyce,
Is a Foe to the Common-Weal.

Here endeth the Ayres for One or two Voyces to the Theorbo-Lute, or Basse-Viol.

SECOND BOOK:

CONTAINING DIALOGUES For TWO VOYCES: To be Sung to the Theorboe-Lute or Basse-Viol.

A Dialogue betwixt Phillis and Clorillo.

I prethee keep my sheep for me
Philis.

I prethee keep my sheep for me: Clorillo, wilt thou, tell?

Clorillo.

First, let me have a kiss of thee, and I will keep them well.

Phillis.

If thou a while but to my little flock will look, thou shalt have this imbroidred skrip and silver hook.

Clorillo.

No other favour or reward I crave, but one poor kisse.

Phillis.

A kisse thou must not have.

Clorillo.

And why?

Phillis.

Such enticements Maids must fly: this Garland thou shalt have of Roses and of Lillies.

Clorillo.

Nor Skrip, nor Hook, nor Garland sweetest Phillis, do I require, to kisse thy fresh and Rosie lip is onely my desire.

Phillis.

Take then a kisse, and let me goe, till I return thy care upon my flocks bestow.

Chorus

together.
Sweet sweet is that kisse that doth with true and just desire as much another give, as to it self require.

A Dialogue between Silvia and Thirsis.

Dear Silvia, let thy Thirsis know
Thirsis.

Dear Silvia, let thy Thirsis know what 'tis that makes those tears o'reflow. Are the Kids that us'd to play and skip so nimbly gon astray? Are Cloris flowers more fresh and green? Or is some other Nimph made Queen?

Silvia.

Thirsis do'st thou think that I can grieve for this, when thou art by?

Thirsis.

What is it then?

Silvia.

My father bids that I no longer feed my Kids with thine but Coridons, and wear none but his Garlands on my haire.

Thirsis.

Why so? Why so my Silvia? Will he keep thy flocks more

safe when thou do'st sleep? Will the Nimphs envy more thy praise, when chanted with his round delays?

Sylvia.

No Thirsis, I my flocks must joyn with his, 'cause they are more then thine.

Chorus.

Fathers cruell as the Rocks, joyn not their children, but their flocks, their flocks, and Hymen cals, Hymen cals to light his torches there, and Hymen cals, and cals to light his torches there, where fortune, nor affections equall are.

A Dialogue between a Shepherd and Lucinda.

Did not you once Lucinda vow, you would love none but me?
Shepherd.

Did not you once Lucinda vow, you would love none but me?

Lucinda.

I, but my mother tels me now I must love wealth, not thee.

Shep.

'Tis not my fault, my sheep are lean, or that they are so few.

Luc.

Nor mine, I cannot love so mean, so poor a thing as you.

Shep.

Cruell, cruell thy love is in thy power, fortune is not in mine.

Luc.

But Shepherd, think how great my dower is in respect of thine.

Shep.

Ah me! ah me!

Luc.

Ah me!

Shep.

Mock you my grief?

Luc.

I pitty thy hard fate.

Shep.

Pity, for Love is poor releief, is poor relief, is poor relief, I'd

rather chuse thy hate.

Luc.

But I must love thee.

Shep.

No.

Luc.

But I must love thee.

Shep.

No.

Luc.

Believe,

Shep.

No.

Luc.

Believe.

Shep.

No.

Luc.

I'le seal it with a kiss, and give thee no more cause to grieve then what thou findst in this: I'le give thee no more cause to grieve, then what thou findst in this.

Chorus.

Be witness then, be witness then you powers above, and by these holy bands let it appear that truest love grows not on wealth, grows not on wealth, grows not on wealth grows not on wealth nor lands.

A Dialogue between Daphne and Strephon.

Come, my Daphne, come away
Strephon.

Come, my Daphne, come away, we do waste the cristal day.

Daphne.

'Tis Strephon calls, what would my Love?

Strephon.

Come follow to the Mirtle Grove, where Venus shal prepare new chaplets for thy hair.

Daphne.

Were I shut up within a tree, I'd rend my bark to follow thee.

Strephon.

My Shepherdess make haste, the minutes slide so fast.

Daphne.

In those cooler shades, will I blind as Cupid kisse your Eye.

Strephon.

In thy bosome then I'le stray, in such warm snow, who would not lose his way?

Chorus.

We'l laugh and leave this world behind, and gods themselves that see, shall envy thee and me, but never find such

joyes when they embrace a Diety.

A Dialogue between Shepherd and Shepherdess.

Shepherdess.

Forbear fond Swain, I cannot love.

Shepherd.

I prethee fair one, tell me why thou art so cold?

Shepherdess.

You do but move to take away my liberty.

Shepherd.

I'le keep thy sheep whilst thou shalt play; Delight shall make each Moneth a May.

Shepherdess.

Those pleasant are unthrifty hours.

Shepherd.

Thou shalt have the choycest flowers, wax and Hony, milk & wool, of ripest fruits thy belly full.

Shepherdess.

My flocks I'le keep by thine.

Shepherd.

Not so, but let them undistinguisht go.

Shepherdess.

I can afford no more. Ah cease!

Shepherd.

Love come so far may yet increase.

Shepherdess.

Each day I'le grant a kiss.

Shepherd.

Our blisses must not conclude, but spring from kisses.

Shepherdess.

Then Shepherd love thy fill.

Shepherd.

I shall, who knows how much loves not at all.

Chorus.

Then draw we both our flocks up hither, That we may pitch, that we may pitch our folds together. Amidst our chast imbracements meet, our selves as blameless as our sheep.

A Dialogue betwixt an Nymph and a Shepherd.

Tell me Shepherd dost thou Love?
Nymph.

Tell me Shepherd dost thou Love?

Shepherd.

Tell me Nymph why wouldst thou know?

Nymph.

Thy wandring Flocks that without guide doth Rove thy blubber'd Eyes, that still with teares doth flow, makes me to ask.

Shep.

I do.

Nymph.

Dear Shepherd tell me who?

Shep.

I Love a Nymph, from whose bright Eyes Phœbe doth her brightness borrow, where Love did first my heart surprize, where since hath sate my sorrow.

Chorus together.

Love sits inthron'd within the circle of bright Eyes.

Nymph.

But tell me Shepherd, doth her Vertues Beauty equal?

Shep.

As She in Beauty doth all else excel, so are her Vertues without parallel;

Nymph.

Doth She disdain thee?

Shep.

No.

Nymph.

Why griev'st thou then?

Shep.

Because her love is only worthy of the gods, not men.

Chorus.

Loves chiefest joy is but a pleasing anguish, who lives in Love, doth dying live, and living languish.

A Dialogue between Strephon and Phillis.

Shepherd in faith I cannot stay
Phillis.

Shepherd in faith I cannot stay, my wandring flocks call me away.

Strephon.

Phillis, I swear, since I have caught thee now, upon thy rosie lips I'le pay my vow.

Phillis.

Who lives in love, may not by force constrain.

Strephon.

Where imprecation false oaths must obtain.

Phillis.

I prethee Strephon leave me.

Strephon.

Dear Phillis, leave to contemn me.

Phillis.

Nay, then I see, nay then I see, I must my selfe defend.

Strephon.

Vain is all defence and art.

Phillis.

Cruel, cruel, thou dost of breath bereave me.

Chorus.

Since I have thee e're I part, I'le smother thee with kisses, printing on thy lips, printing on thy lips a thousand such as this is. Thus Strephon bold laid down his lovely Phillis. And kist her breathless, and kist her breathless upon a bank of Lillies.

A Dialogue between Venus and Vulcan.

Vulcan , Vulcan, O Vulcan, my Love!
Venus.

Vulcan , Vulcan, O Vulcan, my Love!

Vulcan.

Who cals? Who names me here, 'mongst flames?

Venus.

Sweet, hear my plaint, give sorrow ease.

Vulcan.

Thy sacred power who dares displease?

Venus.

Alas, forlorn Cupid! my wayward Son doth scorn Loves just decree, my awfull hest and heavenly Deitie.

Vulcan.

Is he so bold? well, for thy sake, I that his Arrows heads have us'd to make of piercing steel, which Lovers feel, will temper lead, whose force is dull, and stroke is dead. So that henceforth all men may blithly sing, Cupid's no God, his Bow a Toy, his Shaft no fearful thing.

Chorus.

So that henceforth all men may blithly sing, Cupid's no God, his Bow a Toy, his Shafts no fearful thing.

A Dialogue between Charon and Philomel.

Charon , O gentle Charon!
Phil.

Charon , O gentle Charon! let me woo thee with tears, and pity now to come to me.

Char.

What voyce so sweet and charming do I hear? Say what thou art?

Phil.

I prethee first draw near.

Char.

A sound I hear, but nothing yet I see: Speak where thou art?

Phil.

O Charon, pitty me! I am a shade, & though no name I tell, my mournfull voyce will say I'm Philomel.

Char.

What's that to me? I waft, nor fish, nor fowl, nor beast, Fond thing, but only humane souls.

Phil.

Alas for me!

Char.

Shame on thy warbling note, that made me hoise my sail, and bring my boat, but Ile return: what mischief brought thee hither?

Phil.

deal of love, and much, much grief together.

Char.

What's thy request?

Phil.

That since she's now beneath that fed my life, I follow her in death.

Char.

And's that all? I'm gone.

Phil.

For love I pray thee.

Char.

Talk not of love, all pray, but no souls pay me.

Phil.

I'le give thee sighs and tears.

Char.

Can tears pay scores for patching sails, or mending boat, or oars?

Phil.

I'le beg a penny, or I'le sing so long, till thou shalt say I'ave pay'd thee in a Song.

Char.

Why, then begin.

Chorus

both together.
And all the while we make our sloathful passage o're the Stygian Lake, thou and Ile sing, thou and Ile sing, to make these dull shades merry; who else with tears will doubtless drown our Ferry.

A Dialogue between Thyrsis and Damon.

Damon.

Thyrsis , kind Swain, come near, and lend a sigh, a tear, to thy sad Friend; Forsaken Damon cals.

Thyrsis.

Poor Wight, I come; But wherefore in this plight? Thine eyes are red, thy griefs are swelling: Tell them, Sorrow's half cur'd by telling.

Damon.

Take then the cause of all my woes, Phillis is gone.

Thyrsis.

Why, let her go, 'tis but with other Nimphs and Swains, to sport upon the Neigb'ring Plains; she'l come again, be't but to find the Heart with thee she left behind.

Damon.

Alas, she's taken mine! Her's free as Ayre is gone unchain'd by me, though

I with such devotion sought her love, as to great Pan I ought, whilst my pale look and scatter'd sheep show'd I, nor thoughts, nor flocks could keep.

Thirsis.

Chere up, and lightly by her set.

Damon.

He never lov'd that could forget.

Chorus.

Love is a Riddle, which he best unties, whose reason's not betray'd by his eyes, whose reason's not betrayed, betrayed by his eyes.

A Glee to Bachus with Chorus for Three voyces to be sung between every verse.

To Bacchus we to Bacchus sing

Chorus.

To Bacchus we to Bacchus sing, with wine and mirth we'l conjure him, we'l conjure him, with wine and mirth we'l conjure him.

First verse.

By his Mothers Eye, and his Fathers Thigh, by her God brought to light, and his too glorious sight; By Junoes deceit, and by thy sad retreat, appear, appear, appear, appear in Bottles here.

Chorus again.

Second verse.

By Ariadnes wrongs, and the false youths harms, by the Rock in his breast, and her tears sore

opprest, By the Beauty she fled and the Pleasures of a bed, appear, appear, appear, appear in Bottles here.

Third verse.

By this purple Wine thus pour'd on the shrine; and by this Beer glasse to the next kind Lass; by a Girle twice nine, that will claspe like a Vine, that will claspe thee like a Vine, appear, appear, appear, appear, in Bottles here.

Fourth verse.

By the men thou'st won, and the women undone; By the friendship thou hast made, and the secrets betray'd; By the power over sorrow, thus charm'd till to morrow. appear, appear, appear, appear in Bottles Beer.

To Bacchus, &c.

A Glee to the Cook.

Bring out the cold Chine

Bring out the cold Chine, the cold Chine to mee, and how Ile Charge him Come and see.

Brawn Tusked Brawn, well sowst and fine, with a precious Cup of Muscadine.

Chorus for three Voyces.

How shall I sing? How shall I sing? How shall wee looke in Honour in Honour of the Master Cooke?

The Pig shall turn Round, and Answer mee; Canst thou spare me a Sholder?

Awy Awy.

The Duck, Goose, and Capon: Good fellows all three shall dance thee an Antick, so shall the Turkey. But O! the cold Chine, the cold Chine for me.

With Brewis Ile 'noint thee from Head to th'Heel, shall make thee Run Nimbler then the new oyled Wheel.

With Pye-crust wee'l make thee the Eighth Wiseman to bee; but O! the cold Chine, the cold Chine, but O! the cold Chine for mee.

Chorus of three Voyces again.

How shall, &c.

The Tinker.

He that a Tinker a Tinker a Tinker would be

He that a Tinker a Tinker a Tinker would be, let him leave other Loves, and come listen to me: Though he travel all the Day, he comes Home late at Night, and Dallies, and Dallies with his Doxey, and Dreams of Delight.

His Pot and his Tost in the Morning he takes and all the Day long good Musick he makes: He wanders the World to Wakes and to Fairs, and casts his Cap, and casts his Cap at the Court and her Cares.

When to the Town the Tinker doth come,

Chorus.

O! how the wanton Wenches run.

Some bring him basons, some bring him boles; all Wenches pray him to stop up their holes.

Chorus.

Tink goes the Hammer, the Skillet and the Scummer. Come bring me the Copper Kettle for the Tinker, the Tinker, the Merry Merry Tinker, O! he is the Man of Metle, O! he is the Man of Metle.

A Glee.

Fly Boy, Fly Boy to the Cellars bottome

Fly Boy, Fly Boy to the Cellars bottome, view well your Quills and Bung, Sir: draw Wine to preserve the Lungs, Sir; not Rascally Wine, to Rot um. If the Quills run foule, be a trusty Soule, and Cane it; for the Health is such, an ill drop will much an ill drop will much profane it.

Here Endeth the Second Part of this Book; being Dialogues and Glees for two Voices, to the Theorboe-Lute, or Bass-Viol.

THIRD BOOK.

CONTAINING Short AYRES or BALADS for Three Voyecs: Which may be sung either by a Voyce alone, or by Two or Three Voyces.

[I wish no more thou shouldst love me]

I wish no more thou shouldst love me

I wish no more thou shouldst love me, my joys are full in loving thee; my Heart's too narrow to contain my bliss, if thou shouldst love again.

[Though I am young and cannot tell]

Though I am young and cannot tell,
Either what love or death is well;
Snd then again I have been told,
Love wounds with heat, and death with cold

Yet I have heard they both bear darts,
And both do aime at humane hearts;
So that I fear they do but bring
Extreams to touch, and mean one thing.

Chloris taking the Ayre.

[I]

Come Chloris, hie we to the Bowr'
To sport us ere the day be done;
Such is thy Pow'r, that ev'ry Flow'r
Will ope to thee as to the Sun.

II

And if a Flow'r but chance to dye
With my sighs blasts, or mine Eyes rain,
Thou can'st revive it with thine Eye,
And with thy breath mak't sweet again.

III

The wanton Suckling and the Vine
Will strive for th'honour, who first may
With their green Arms incircle thine,
To keep the burning Sun away.

[When Troy Town for ten years]

When Troy Town for ten years Wars withstood the Greeks in manful wise

When Troy Town for ten years Wars withstood the Greeks in manful wise, yet did their Foes encrease so fast, that to resist none could suffice. Waste lie those Wals that were so good, and Corn now grows where Troy Town stood.

[From the fair Lavinian Shore]

From the fair Lavinian Shore,
I your Markets come to store.
Muse not though so far I dwell,
And my Wares come here to sell.
Such is the sacred hunger of Gold;
Then come to my Pack,
While I cry what d'ye lack,
What d'ye buy, for here it is to be sold.

I have Beauty, Honour, Grace,
Fortune, Favour, Time, and Place:
And what else thou would'st request,
Even the Thing thou likest best.
First let me have but a touch of thy Gold,
Then come to me Lad
Thou shalt have what thy Dad
Never gave, for here it is to be sold.

Maddam, come see what you lack,
Here's Complexion in my Pack;
White and Red you may have in this place,
To hide your old ill wrinkled Face;
First let me have but a touch of thy Gold,
Then thou shalt seem
Like a Wench of Fifteen,
Although thou be threescore Years old.

[Where the Bee sucks there suck I]

Where the Bee sucks there suck I

Where the Bee sucks there suck I, in a Cowslips bell I lie, there I cowch when Owles do crie, on the Batts back I do flie after Summer merrilie. Merrilie merrilie shal I live now under the blossom that hangs on the bow. Merily merily shal I live now under the blossom that hangs on the bow.

[When love with unconfined wings]

When Love with unconfined wings hovers within my Gates

When Love with unconfined wings hovers within my Gates, and my divine Althea brings to whisper at my Grates. When I lie tangled in her Hair, and fetter'd with her Eye, the Birds that wanton in the Air know no such liberty.

[Do not fear to put thy feet]

Do not fear to put thy feet naked in the River sweet

Do not fear to put thy feet naked in the River sweet, think not Neute, nor Leech, nor Toad will bite thy foot when thou hast trod; nor let the waters, rising high, nor let the waters, rising high, as thou wad'st in make thee cry and sob, but ever live with mee, and not a wave shall trouble thee.

[In the merry month of May]

In the merry month of May,
On a morn by break of day,
Forth I walkt the Wood so wide,
When as May was in her pride;
There I spy'd all alone
Philida and Coridon.

Much adoe there was, God wot,
He did love, but she could not;
He said his love was to woo,
She said none was false to you;
He said, he had lov'd her long,
She said, love should take no wrong.

Coridon would have kist her then,
She said, Maids must kisse no Men,
Till they kisse for good and all;
Then she bad the Shepherd call
All the Gods to witness truth,
Ne'r was loved so fair a youth.

Then with many a pretty Oath,
As Yea and Nay, and Faith and Troth;
Such as silly Shepherds use
When they would not love abuse;
Love which had been long deluded,
Was with kisses sweet concluded.

And Phillida with Garlands gay
Was Crowned the Lady May.

100

[O my Clarissa! thou cruel Fair]

O my Clarissa! thou cruel Fair,
Bright as the Morning, and soft as the Air;
Fresher than Flow'rs in May,
Yet far more sweet than they;
Love is the subject of my prayer.

When first I saw thee, I felt a flame,
Which from thine Eyes like lightning came;
Sure it was Cupid's Dart,
It peirc'd quite through my heart;
Oh, could thy breast once feele the same!

Let not such Fortune my Love betide;
Oh, let your rocky breast be mollifi'd!
Send me not to my Grave
Unpittyed like a slave;
How can love such usage abide?

A wound so powerfull would urge thy soule,
Spight of a froward heart, coyness controule,
And make thy love as fixt
As is the heart thou prik'st,
Forcing thee with me to condole.

Sympathize with me a while in grief,
This passion quickly will find out relief;
Cupid wil from his Bowers
Warm these chill hearts of ours,
And make his power rule there in chief.

Then would the God of Love equall bee,
Giving me ease, as by wounding thee;
Then would you never scorn,
When like to me you burn;
At least not prove unkind to mee.

101

[Gather your Rose buds while you may]

Gather your Rose buds while you may,
Old Time is still a flying;
And that same Flow'r that smiles to day,
To morrow will be dying.

The glorious Lamp of Heaven, the Sun,
The higher he is getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he's to setting.

That Age is best that is the first,
While youth and blood are warmer;
Expect not the last and worst,
Time still succeeds the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,
While you may go marry,
For having once but lost your prime,
You may for ever tarry.

102

[Fear not, dear Love, that I'le reveal]

Fear not, dear Love, that I'le reveal
Those hours of pleasure we two steal,
No Eye shall see, nor yet the Sun,
Descry what thou and I have done.

No ear shall hear our Love, but we
As silent as the night will be,
The God of Love himself, (whose dart
Did first wound mine, and then thy heart.)

Shall never know that we can tell,
What sweets in stoln embraces dwell;
This onely means may find it out,
If when I die, Physicians doubt.

What caus'd my death, and then to view
Of all their judgments which was true;
Rip up my heart, O then I fear
The world will see thy picture there.

103

[Fine young Folly, though you wear]

Fine young Folly, though you wear
That fair beauty, I did swear,
Yet you ne'r could reach my heart,
For we courtiers learn at school
Only with your sex to fool,
Y'r not worth our serious part.

When I sigh and kiss your hand,
Crosse mine Armes, and wondring stand,
Holding fairly with your eye:
Then dilate on my desires,
Swear the Sun ne'r shot such fires,
All is but a handsome lye.

Wherefore, Madam, wear no cloud,
Nor to check my flames grow proud;
For insooth I much do doubt,
'Tis the powder in your hair,
Not your breath perfumes the Air,
And your cloaths that set you out.

When I eye your Curles or Lace,
Gentle soul, you think your face
Straight some murder doth commit;
And your conscience doth begin
To be scrup'lous of my sin,
When I court to shew my wit.

Yet though truth hath this confest,
And I swear I love in jest,
Courteous soul, when next I court,
And protest an amorous flame
You I vow, I in earnest am,
Bedlam, this is pretty sport.

104

[Sing fair Clorinda, Whilst you may]

Sing fair Clorinda

Sing fair Clorinda, fair Clorinda sing, whilst you move those that attend the throne, the throne above, to leave their holy business there; shall so much harmony attend to think the sphears were made in vain? Since here's a voyce quickens the sloth of natures age, it comforts growth, it comforts growth in all her works, and can provoke a Lilly to out-live an Oake, and can provoke a Lilly, can provoke a Lilly to out-live an Oake.

106

[Smiths are good fellows]

Smiths are good Fellows

Smiths are good Fellows, good Fellows, they Blow the Bellows, they Blow the Bellows, they Blow the Bellows while the Iron's hot; though there gains be small, Thy pot and my pot, come thy pot and my pot, come thy pot and my pot, and thy pot their Hammers call. Hallow, Hallow, Hallow is the White Mare Fallow, hold foot while I strike, stand fast, stand fast, stand fast with a Winion: Thy pot and my pot come thy pot, come my pot and thy pot sure 'tis but opinion Ale hurts the sight, For continually continually, Thy pot and my pot, come thy pot, come thy pot and my pot, come thy pot their Hammers call.

104

[Musick, thou Queen of souls get up]

Musick, Musick, thou Queen of souls get up

Musick, Musick, thou Queen of souls get up, get up, & sitting thy powerful Lute & some sad, some sad Requium sing, til Cliffs requite thy Eccho with a grone, and the dull Rocks repeat the duller tone,

Then on a suddain, &c.

The Oake her Roots, &c.

Chorus.

Mirtles shall caper, lofty Cedars run, & call the courtly palme to make up one: Then in the midst of all their jolly strain, then in the midst of all their jolly strain, strike a sad note, strike a sad note, strike a sad note and fix 'um Trees again.

110

[See the Light bright shine]

See, see, see the bright Light shine

See, see, see the bright Light shine, and day doth rise; shot from my Mistris Eyes like Beams divine; her Glory doth appear and; view the purer light, Stream from her Sight stream from her Sight, when she shines clearly here: But vail her leads; Ah then you'l find how night is hurl'd about the silent world; and we left blind that darkness seems to prove, for ought we see 'tis only She make night and day to move, Then shine fair Celia lest our borrowed light; when your Sun sets, when your Sun sets, when your Sun sets, perish, perish, perish in shades of Night.

112

[Turn Amarillis to thy Swain]

Turn Amarillis to thy Swain

Turn Amarillis to thy Swain turn Amarillis to thy Swain, turn Amarillis to thy Swain, thy Damon calls thee back again, thy Damon calls thee back again: Here is a pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty Arbour by, where Apollo, where Apollo, where Apollo, where Apollo, cannot cannot spy, where Apollo cannot spy. Here let's sit, and whilst I play, sing to my Pipe, sing to my Pipe, sing to my Pipe, sing to my Pipe, sing to my Pipe a Rounddelay; sing to my Pipe, sing to my Pipe, sing to my Pipe a Rounddelay.

113

Reader. Here thou hast this Song, for Two Voyces; as it was first Compos'd by my Friend the Author, though of late Years, two Inward Parts have been added to it. J. P.

114

[Now we are met, let's merry be]

Now we are met, let's merry, merry be for one half Hour

Now we are met, let's merry, merry be for one half Hour, with mirth and glee: To recreate our Spirits dull, let's laugh and sing our Bellyes full.

In praise of Musick.

Musick miraculous Rhethorick! that speak'st Sence
Without a Tongue, excellent Eloquence:
The love of thee in wild Beasts have been known,
And Birds have lik'd thy Notes above their own.

How easie might thy Errors be excus'd,
Wert thou as much beloved, as th'art abus'd;
Yet although dull Souls thy Harmony disprove,
Mine shall be fixt in what the Angels love.

W. D. Knight.

FINIS.