The fancies theater· By Iohn Tatham Gent

THE FANCIES THEATER .

BY IOHN TATHAM Gent.

HORAT Quòd si me Lyricis vatibus inseris , Sublimi feriam sidera vertice .

LONDON , Printed by IOHN NORTON , for RICHARD BEST , and are to be sold at his Shop neere Grayes-Inne-gate in Holborne . 1640.

TO THE HONORABLE AND THE MOST WORTHY MECAENAS , SIR John Winter Knight , Secretary of State , and Master of Requests to the Queenes most excellent Majestie . HONOR'D SIR ,

THe confidence I have of your Native goodnesse ( of which the World is sufficient Dilater ) has prompt mee to this audacious presumption , which with some would have beene held a crime insufferable . But I know your Honor is so farre from a Censurer , that you had rather cherish endeavours then destroy 'em : Besides , there 's a certaine Sect of selfe-affecters , that will ( unlesse some judicious Patron be fixt to the fronts-peece , as the beames of the Sunne , to correct their sawsie peering , with blindnesse ) not only disgorge their Envie , but wrest the sense to be succinct ; I ( knowing your Name to be such , as amongst the discerning Spirits deserves the highest Attributes of worth ; and of such singular power , 't will extirp the Malevolent thoughts that raigne in the vulgar and most infectious Traducers ) tender this , as my first Sacrifice , at the Altar of your mercy . And if it may obtaine the reflection of your acceptance , 't will so much encourage your poore Admirer , that I shall be Ambitious in the continuance of your favours : These are the Mayden-blosomes of my Muse , which ( without your protection ) may ( in their infancie ) be destroyed by the breath of Zoïlus ; but shelter'd by your Honor , they shall live , and dare the Criticks rancour , retorting to their owne shame . Sir , the fostering this Orphan will make you famous for Charity , and impose an obligation beyond expression , upon

Your Honors truly devoted , JO. TATHAM .

To the honor'd Patron of his Book . SIR , AS my service binds me and my love , ( May your faire selfe so of the same approve ) As your deservings , I have plac'd you here Equall with Phoebus in his Hemisphere , Where your refulgent brightnesse cast's a light Into these twinkling Lamps , and give 's them sight . Minerva bad me tell you she is proud Of those deserts which in your brest doe crowd As in a throng , which our capacity Not able to finde out , leave 's to her eye . Thrice worthy Hero , may your Halcion dayes Be ne're extinct till crazie Time decayes . Jo. Tatham .

Fancie , to the Reader . REaders of all sorts , when you have survai'd Each roome within this Theater , and paid Sufficient for admittance , you 'l allow To render me account of all , and how You like the fabrick , if it be well rear'd ; The thought of falling is not to be fear'd , Though he that did erect it , has not serv'd Seaven yeares to the Profession , nor deserv'd The Attribute of Architect , yet hee Expects by your faire hands to be made free ; Hee 'l then set up in th' Citie , and in spight Of Suburb power , or Corporation's might : Vse his best skill to please you . Faith , be just , Doe not enscale his Freedome with the aust , Hee 's prest t' obey you howsoe're , and will Without a grumble , serve you , and fulfill Forsooth , your precepts being prest so lowe , I hope you 'l raise him , Char'ty teacheth so : Yet , hee 'l not begge your favours , to assist Him , by Certificate , doe what you list ; He knowes the worst on 't , if you doe refuse , 'T is but the having ( to the Hall ) his Muse To have the gentle notch ; and so to try If hee in time can gaine the Mystery ; Hee sweares he will defie you , when that hee Atchives to th' Warden of the Company .

To his friend the Author on his Fancies Theater . FAncie , in all his Colours ne're appear'd So variously delightfull , as in this Magnificent Theater , which thou hast rear'd Out of thy Genuine braine , and call'st it His. Here does he take all shapes , and act all parts ; The noble Hero , and the humble Swaine ; The jocund Lovers , and lamenting hearts . As well the Buskind , as the Comick straine . Fancie has something here for every one , From Reveller to Mourner ; still provided , Each brings a proper apprehension ; And one not by anothers humor guided . But let all come and welcome : The severe Cato himselfe may have free entrance here . R. Broome .

To his friend the Author , on his ingenious Theater of Fancies . A Theater is built , and every part Order'd with various Workmanship and Art , The Sceanes with Protean transformation move , Presenting Buskins , Socks , and Themes of love : A Mourners teares , and joy of a faire Bride ; Smart Satyre , and a world of change beside . 'T is not the Building only Men should see , But what 's prepar'd for Action in 't by thee . Upon the outward forme let no Man looke , But search the richer inside of thy Booke . And if their humors doe not judgement blinde , They 'l most things pleasing , none offending finde . Sic censet Amicus . THO. NABBES .

To his loving friend the Author , on his Fancies Theater . 'T Is worth enough to have so many friends , Who doe applaud with judgement thy faire ends ▪ Which raise thy Towring Fancies to such height , That ev'ry line affords us a conceit Farre different from the Whimzies of the time , Where 't is their chiefest praise to trot in Rime , And thunder out their meaning in a Phrase , Wo'd strike a Martiall spirit in a maze : But let the world judge if what thou hast done , Deserve not good mens approbation ? For my part , I shall deeme thee worthy praise , When such a troope as these extoll thy Bayes . When Fancie in thy Theater doth play , And wins more credit than a second day ; When thy pure Helicon so high doth flow , It out-braves Iordan or the swelling Poe. Let not thy Fancie ebbe , but more and more Inlarge it's limits , and encroach the Shoare . And let the Sea-borne Goddesse ever be Propitious to thy straines of Poesie . And may'st thou in thy Verse so happy prove , That Cupid may affect thy beauteous Love Dearer than Psyche , till thou make her be Fairer than thine , lest he shou'd Rivall thee . Thy Friend C. G.

To his Friend the Author , on his Fancies Theater . FRiend , since the choise and most Emphatick phrase Appeares too slender to enrich thy prayse ; How shall the discord of my jarring skill Ought but detract from th' honor of thy Quill ? But yet , so just an int'rest in my love Thy merits clayme , that should I not approve The rich Exchequer of thy pregnant Braine To it's true worth , I should appeare a staine . Come all you Youths fill'd with Phoebean fire , ( As tribute to the Musick of his Lyre ) Bring each with willing Palmes a Daphnean Bough , And make a Chaplet to impale his Brow , Into whose Brest Apollo's selfe hath ray'd Such loftie Raptures , as may well perswade The transmigration which Pythagoras Maintain'd for truth , may for authentick passe . For , when th' inticing pleasure of thy Line , And teeming Fancies unexhausted Myne I view , me thinks the Genius of those Three Admired Laureats are ensphear'd in Thee , Smooth Shakespeare , neat Randolph , and wittie Ben , Flow in a mutuall sweetnesse from Thy Pen : Nature in Thee seemeth Arts parallell , For Thou art both her Pride and Miracle . May th' Virgin Candor of thy infant Bayes , Unravisht , spring , spight of our Critick dayes ; And from Thee such Nectarean Dew distill , As may the world with admiration fill . Geo. Lynn .

To his good friend M. Iohn Tatham upon his Fancies Theater . TO see what upstart Scriblers strive in Rime , To be the Paper-blu●rers of the time , Makes me amaz'd ; yet if they wo'd but see The flowry Raptures that are done by thee , They wo'd no question blush to see the Bulls , And rabling Ballads of their windy sculls . Here they may see compos'd a spicy-nest Of flaming Fancies , all in spangles drest : For here each line that to the eye appeares , May sing a Lullaby unto the Spheres . Poore Fancies marre a Theater , but see The Fancies Theater is made by thee . Robert Chamberlaine .

To his friend M. Iohn Tatham on his Fancies Theater . TO shew my selfe in Print I ne're had thought , But that thy Fancies has my thoughts out-wrought . What shall I say ? 't is this I doe admire , And think thy wits like to th' aspiring fire , Will ne're descend ; thy braine from vulgar straines Is clarifi'd so neatly , it containes Th' Epitome of smooth and well scan'd verse , And though in future times thy aged he●se , Shall be enthron'd with Lawrell ; yet this age May blame my zealous friendship , and in rage Both carp at thee , and me : But it shall ne're Make me strike sayle , but rather make my steere Beare stiffe with malice for to think that men Would make abortive this thy Infant Pen. But yet my hopes are confident , that they Cannot but give thy worth a branch of Bay , Though not a Lawrell , which slow-paced Time Shall bring , and humbly offer at thy Shrine . H. Davison .

To his friend Iohn Tatham Gent. upon his Fancies Theater . THou didst not meane thy Theater sho'd be Common ( though publique ) to th' Obliquity Of ev'ry duller eye : 'T is rais'd too neere , ( Propt by thy Fancies Atlas ) to the sphere Of purest wit , which the dull sonnes of Earth ( Sho'd they afflict the Universe with dearth Of Ignorance and Envie , pile it up In envious heapes for their ascent to crop Thy Bayes ) can ne're aspire to : Attempt they may , And passe our duller ayre ; But the cleare Ray Of thy bright worth appearing , will deprive Their terrified soule of sence ; deceive Their hopes through their own ruine And what they have Now for their steps , anon shall be their grave , Prest by the weight of Ignorance : But then Their guilty blushing shame shall rise agen To scornfull memory , whose black name shall give More lustre to thy praises , to survive 'Till Time hath lost himselfe : And this great All Be brought to its confused Funerall . Passe not a Zoylists envie , since th' ast knowne Thy censure through their breath , whose pleasure none Can without sacriledge dispute . But if Thy fearefull soule cannot retaine beliefe Of safety , Iove shall to secure thy feare , Displace his Bird from 's bosome-nest , and there Harbour thy Muse : But what injustice can Refuse the God's , and take the word of Man , Th' ast had a Jury of Immor●●lls , that Have given their censure : finde not guilty ; what Bold Heav'n-contemners then dare contradict , When the Divine Vote's publish their Edict ? The Daphnean Bay graspt by the Frosts cold hand , Doth grow more freshly greene ; thy Muse shall stand As firme 'gainst Envies storme , till Fame shall be Proud to record thy still greene memory . Iames Iones .

Vpon his Dreame and Censure of the Gods. ANd canst thou dreame so well ? then never wake , Unlesse it be that so thou may'st pertake The reall substance of thy thoughts , and then Thou 'lt make a subject for the rarest Pen To treat on : But having at a venture Invok'd th' th'Immortals for to have their censure Upon thy Fate ; Sol sooner shall stand still , And fire the Orbs , but thou shalt hate thy will. H. Davison .

To his friend M. Io. Tatham on his Fancies Theater . WHen I beheld and view'd each sev'rall line Appearing a full fraughted Magazine Of choyce conceits ; such as our Fancies now ( Diff'ring from what they were ) must needs allow : How sweet and how delici'ous to the taste : How pleasing to the eye , how trim'd , how chaste ; And where thy Fancy hits upon a crime , Thy Verse doth mask it , suting with the Time ; How eloquent thou art , how thine owne phrase Becomes an Orator , and tells thy praise ; The faults I found were few , the greatest was ( And yet for some knowne reasons it may passe ) Where thou do'st court thy Mistris , and doth wipe Each word with gold , enough for to invite All eyes , all hearts ; our greatest feare was , wee Should suffer by th' inchanting Orat'ry . I know thy Muse is chaste , and will not strive , T' attract all Beauties to her pleasing hive . My wishes bid goe on , and may thy Rime Flourish beyond the utmost date of Time. William Barnes .

On the Author of the Fancies Theater . AMongst the rest , Friend , Tatham , I am come , To doe thy Fancies right , and quit the summe I stand engag'd for : since my forward youth Sign'd Love a Bond , for currant Coyne of Truth , To pay at severall times ▪ the world shall be Thy Secretarie ; and take this truth from me , In all thy Shop of Fancies , not a Line ( I emulate thee so ) but I wish mine ; 'T will be sufficient portion for thy Name To live by ; for Times Treasurer , wing'd Fame , Shall , as thy worth deserves , speake thee as high As any fill'd her Trump with Poesie . Tho. Rawlins .

To his friend M. Iohn Tatham , upon his Fancies Theater . MY Muse composed more of love than fire , Would spare her Pen , and silently admire Thy worth , which her expressions cannot rayse , Unlesse she borrow thine owne stile and phrase , And from thy proper heapes purloyne a store , Which payes one debt to make a thousand more ; Did not thy friendship and thy sacred merit Conjure up flames even in a frozen spirit . Though last in number , thinke me not the least , I thought as much as all thy Friends exprest ; But our sincere desires suffer much wrong , Since the sad diff'rence 'twixt the heart and tongue ; My thoughts soare high , though my expression's weake , True friends think out their tale , when others speake . Yet write I this not for peculiar ends , To cast aspersion on your other friends ; I in that Consort jointly doe preferre My off'ring to thy Fancies Theater . An. Newport .

To his friend the Author , on his Fancies Theater . DEare friend , my infant Muse will bee Obscur'd , when as the Readers see Thy am'rous straines , and thou 'lt be found To be with greater glory crown'd By my weake Lines , which to thy prayse Affords a Coronet of Bayes . In this I am thy friend , to bee Thy foile , that plainely men may see Thy greater lustre , and may spend Their Censures gently on thy friend . R. Pynder .

To his friend the Author . HAd I Chapmans Line or Learning , Iohns●ns Art , Fletchers more accurate Fancie , or that part Of Beaumont that 's divine , Dun's profound skill , Making good Verses live , and damning ill : I then would prayse thy Verses , which sho'd last Whil'st Time ha's sands to run , or Fame a blast . But I 've a Braine so dull , that though I beat The Anvill ne're so oft , there 's nought but sweat And emptie vapours crowne my long lost paine . I write , 't is bad , dislik't , rub't out againe ; And in this serious folly I abuse The patience of my Lamp , my Oyle I loose ; Nor is it fit , that each unworthy Line Sho'd court the light , but onely such as thine . Then since I cannot write what I desire , May thine for ever live , mine 's for the fire . W. Ling.

21 Aprilis , 1640.

Imprimatur ,

JOHANNES HANSLEY .

A DIALOGVE betweene Momus , Tyme , and the Author . Momus . HOw now presumpt'ous Lad , think'st thou that wee Will be disturb'd with this thy Infancie Of wit : — Or doe's thy am'rous thoughts beget a flame ( Beyond it's merit ) for to court the name Of Poet ; or is' t common now adayes Such slender wits dare clayme such things as Bayes : Or doe's thy sickly Fancie think to get Some foole to be enamour'd on thy wit ? Thy reason , prythee , why , ambitious Boy , Thou do'st present the world with such a toy ; Yet giv'st it such a title , that 't were sin To view the outside , and not looke within ; The Fancies Theater , a Title wee Durst ne're assume to reach , much lesse for thee : It is the very Prologue , to invite A Puritan to covet for it's sight . And then agen I wonder , what mad vaine Did prompt thy Fancie , to present a straine ( So farre unworthy ) to so bright an eye , Where all deserts and true perfections lye . When I behold his name , me thinks I see Phoebus himselfe , the God of Poesie , — By whose judicious eye deserts shall live , — And spight of killing Envie , shall survive . I should mistrust my selfe , should I but think His judgement will at thee connive , or wink ; To him , forgetfull Lad , durst thou present These weak conceits ; or was it to prevent Our rasher censure ; thinking thou might'st sing At peace , once shelter'd underneath his wing ? I laugh to see thy follyes , yet I sweare I heartily could wish thy Fancies were Such as might well deserve him ; for , know , I Doe envie at thy blest prosperity . Is not the world cram'd full of wits ? why then Should'st thou be favour'd thus above those men , Whose high and rare deserts , doth clayme to be The Kingdomes best and richest Treasurie ? Yet all their fortunes , and their merits , they Would levell at his feet ; and , well they may . Tyme . IT is confest , that Tyme's old age could yet Ne're glory in a world , so full of wit , Nor was his snowy haires crown'd with delight Of sweeter choycer Raptures , such as might ( Like gold-tongu'd Orpheus ) make stones follow men : Their Verse extinct , Stones propagate agen , And though the world doth boast of such , yet wee Doe finde it stayn'd with base impiety ; Such as thy selfe proud Momus , that do'st strive To damne young wits , to keepe thine owne alive . Tyme must amend this fault I say , unlesse The world is weary of the bigge swolne Presse , And her deliverings ; When our Wits are dead , Shall only their great Names be registred , And not their works ; or shall not th' Muses heire● Encrease and multiply as Tyme , and Yeares ? For now adayes our younger wits are quite Disheartned by the venome of thy spight ; Whose base detraction would have none to be Inroll'd within the List of Poetry , But of thy Sect ; whose numbers still encrease , Belching out foule-mouth'd words , derision's ease ; For could your Sect make what you 'd mend , 't were well , 'T is better prate than doe : But let me tell The world my humour , though I 've often bin Taxt as being guilty of this Critick sin , In giving leave to your prophane intent , ( A thing Heav'n knows , my judgment never ment ) I doe pro●est , though Opportunity You have engross'd and brib'd , yet , 't was not I. I hate thy doings , so I 'le henceforth be A scorner of thy base dishonesty . Is it not time that Tyme should urge the ayre Of such grosse putrefaction ; and repaire The almost lost deserts of many , which Dare not presume their sences to enrich With the Divine instinct of Poesie : Fearing thy Carping and thy Blasphemy . There cannot now a Rapture be put forth ; But thou detract'st the substance of their worth . Is thy wit rare , or dost thou think there 's none Can equalize thy Fancies , but thine owne ? Misguided selfe-conceited Idiots , see , But your owne ignorance and simplicity ; And then you 'l yeeld 't is better mend , than make ; This without Bribe , or favour , I have spake For him whose wit 's ( as yet ) but rawe , till Time And yeares hath taught him higher for to climbe . Then forward ( Youth ) let not the Criticks eye Be th' cause ●o stay thy ingenuity . Author . LEt me first crave from thee gray-headed Time , Thy absolution , e're I put my Rime To be a Courtier in the wanton ayre , Making their Progresse to each witty faire . And courteous Mistris , unto whose white hand I wish them happy journey , while I stand Devoted for their service : I have beene Too , too , too prodigall , and have not seene My errors : but have wilfully run on , As Steward to some liberall Gentleman ? Where I have beene too lavish , and have spent What was my Masters , freely to me lent . And though the Steward hath but little now Left for to shew his Master , yet I vow I have some remnants left , although they be But shreds to what I might have gain'd from thee . If I have us'd thee ill . I 'le be thy Slave , And henceforth dote on nothing but my grave . Yet let me thus much tell thee ; my desire Ne're kindled from a base ambitious fire Of an applause , though carping Momus hee Murmurs , and bites my Title Page and mee . I have observ●d his envie ▪ and I say , I doe not this in hope to get a pay , Reward , or such base mercenary gaine ; Let them that gape for 't , have it for their paine . I will not sell that little mite of wit , If so ( without offence ) I dare terme it , At any rate ; Nor doe I care the while , If at the Title they doe lend a smile ; I willingly would please them , yet if they Will not be pleas'd , I weigh not what they say . My Title Momus , let me tell thee true , Is for to please my selfe , not to please you . Nor doe I strive to gaine a Poets name ; A title my weak soule durst never ayme To court at ; For , I may as soone aspire , To kisse the Sunne , as warme me at that fire . To end expostulation , thus much know , What my dese●ts can merit , I doe owe To him whose kinde acceptance makes me blest , Lifting me higher than the Eagles nest . And if my wit encrease ( as yeares in me ) I shall aspire no higher than to be Accounted as his Servant ; and will lay My off'rings at his feet as well as they , Whom you alledge deserv'd him better ; why ? They can but give their store , and so will I. Then why should you as canker'd , so deject That , which his wisedome's pleas'd with to protect : But I 'le not barre your custome , for 't is knowne You will detract all Writings but your owne .

To the truly worthy and his much honoured friend , Sir Edward Savage . HOw some will erre in making that seeme good , Scarce ha's allowance to be understood ! Honor consists in Vertues , nor is' t fit Each worthlesse faune should clayme a share in wit. It wrongs the Poets Genius , whose pure fire Will suffer no privation , when the Quire Of Fancy-propping Muses does distill The oyly-drops of merit from the hill Of Noble-worth , to tell the erring sence Of credulous Man , that Truths preheminence Keepes no alliance with such motions , tends To soothing flattery , the bad Mans friends . And to that end sends me Ambassador , To make the world acquainted what you are : With vowes unfained , Noble Sir , y' are one , That shares on Natures distribution . And I would say , but that your modest eares Are wool'd 'gainst your own praises , though 't appeares Roab'd in reality itselfe , you can Distinguish 'twixt the best and worst of Man : One who may clayme the Attributes of wise , Noble , and courteous , and from these does rise The living Emblems , Charity and Love , The Orbs by which each faculty doe move , That claymes a being in you . You appeare The spacious blisse where Vertue keepes her Spheare , In a sweet temp'rature ; the thought of Pride ( As Omen to your Vertues ) you deride , Exiled from that bosome which inherits ▪ The uncorrupted wishes to your merits . May health still crowne you with felicity , Till you desire to change Mortality , For th' reserved blisse in Elizium , When as your Dove-like expirations come . And may your better part transferred be Into a constellatious Soveraignty : While Vertues-Lovers Requiems sing , and I Have vitall motion , study for the eye Of your devoted Servant .

A Newyeares gift to Clarinda . FAshions are now a dayes so often us'd , That meanest Peasants have the same abus'd . Each servile creature can command their Rings , Gloves , or the like , ( such b●se mechanick things ) Reason must guide you then ; such toyes as those Are subject still to losing ; I le repose More confidence in you , and will impart A farre transcendent Gift , my loyall Heart : Embrace it then , and let no envious fate Crosse our united loves , nor derogate From what you former were ; such Gifts as this Deserve the keeping , nay , some future blisse .

Vpon an old rich Woman in love with a young Gentleman . MOre rich than wise , and yet more wise than faire , Yeares adde grey Trophi●s to enrich thy haire ; Rather than live to love , die with despaire . When as sad Comets in the Skies appeare , Some strange disaster then approacheth neere , Which in our doubtfull Soules begets a feare . Thy Nose is that disaster ; for , in thee , No lesse than thousand Comets we may see , As symptomes to ensuing miserie . Below thy Nose , a Hill we may descry , Darkning the light appearing from thy eye , Within that hollow Concave where they lye . Eye , Nose , and Chin , since you in darknesse be , Premeditate before you visit me , And rayse young Cynders to your Venerie . And in Nights shade meet with your shadow , where Some Incubus by chance may get an heire , Making the World accurst with such a paire . Or if thy wither'd Hand ( begot by Time ) Should with thy Eye , Nose , Chin , and Face combine , Without discordant , for to make me thine : Know gumlesse-wooer that diseases thirst , To seize thy hand , where th' Apoplexy must Bring thee e're long , unto thy neighbours dust . Or if thy wither'd thigh desires to know The sweet contents that in our Youth doe flow , Convert a teare into a flood below . So may some Cripple wanting Almes , supply , Thy al-most desperate necessity : And please both nose , gums , chin , thigh , hands , & eye . Covet no more when that you are so sped Nor dye your cheeks with colour from your bed , Since afore th' Ark you lost your Maydenhead .

The Superscription of a Letter sent to Clarinda . FRom my Master here I 'm come , To embrace your Martyrdome ▪ Let no other hand come neere me , You alone have power to teare me . If you like not what 's within , Then your frownes may purge my sin : But if he or I can please , Friendly let me rest at ease .

The Letter . GOe pale-fac't Paper to my Deare , And whisper this into her eare : Though I absent am , yet shee Keeping thee , embraces mee . Let no rude hand dare to touch thee , Care not though a thousand grutch thee Of that blisse which in her Hive Thou enjoy'st till I arrive , And be sure thou do'st not flye From the glances of her eye . Where she goes , be thou about her , Gad not thou abroad without her ; Nor let any dare to see What 's betweene my Love and thee . Nay , and when she chance to sleepe , Gently to her Bosome creepe , Where I charge thee , rest till shee , With her kisses waken thee . Goe and prosper for a space , Till I rob thee of thy place .

To Clarinda . PRetty Wanton , prythee say , Did you see my Heart to day ? Marks to know it , you shall finde Alwayes constant , true , and kinde ; Wounds about it , it doth beare , Drops are trickling here , and there , ●n which wound you 'l finde , a Dart Shot by you into my hart , ●f you saw it ; doe not blush , Th' wounds are fresh , and blood will gush ●nto your face , and you be knowne , To covet more than is your owne . Send it back , but let it bee Sound as when it came to thee . Doe not think for to deny it ; These are tokens will discry it . How can I subsist and live , When my owne you will not give ? Yet if you will send to me , Yours in faire exchange , I 'le be Mute , and not report that I Suffer by your cruelty . ●hen I prythee let me know , If you will exchange , or no.

In praise of Sack. TO write thy prayse , let ev'ry Poets Quill Flow with sweet Dew , suckt from Parnassus Hill. Sack , I adore thee ; nay , the Muses nine Count thee the Fabrick of their heav'nly Chime : And in their choice ●nventions strive to gaine Thy liking , ere the World peruse a straine . Aged thou art , by which thou do'st possesse Of Noble Spirits , Poets numberlesse : And to thy Cistern's head doe all resort , Admire thee , as they doe admire the Court. The very Children , ere they scarce can say Their Pater-Noster , or their Christ-Crosse A , Will to their Parents prattle , and desire To tast that Drinke , which Gods doe so admire : So by degrees , ere Time can count their yeares , Thy strength doth make them Ovids wittie heires .

To Clarinda , walking with her in his Garden . SAy , my Clarinda , is the Rose Not prowd to have thy sweet repose , Since they derive their dye from those , Those precious Colours , Red and White , Dwell in thy Checkes , may Gods invite To feed , not surfet with delight . T were sinne , Clarinda , to beleeve , From thee they could such harme receive ; Yet should they , thou canst Cordials give . ●ay , my Clarinda , why the Aire Appeares thus fresh , soft , clearely faire , Yet cloudie Vapours yonder are ? Why does the injur'd Philomell Hither retire , her moane to tell , Yet Wood-men want her dolefull knell ? Why does she alter now her Vote , Purging the Quinzie in her throat , Payes sorrow with a pleasing note ? Why Violets in Purple drest , The Damask thus the Rose invest , Whose perfum'd Mantles grace the East ? Why doe the humble Pebbles rise Like Opals , to out-brave the Skies , And Iris various Clouds despise ? Tell me , Clarinda , why the Sun Is set before his course is run , Readie to fire his Region ? And why does his beloved Flower Forget her Cue , her time and houre , And shuts not , when he shewes his power ? Each spicie Child , whose crisped Bed Intwines the Earths Spring Maidenhead , Are blest , in kissing where you tread . Or why does every thing beside , That 's good , in this small place abide , When other Gardens want such pride ? 'T is thou , Clarinda , mak'st this place So fertile glorious ; when you pace This Walke , each Evill shuns your Chase. When you appeare , th' amorous Ayre With modest breath salutes your hayre , And whispers out their zeale in prayer . The Nightingale confines her woe , And gives mirth libertie to goe , As Ecchoes to your Beds of Snow . The Violet , Rose , and Pebbles have No other Liveries than you gave , Yet such as may the World out-brave . The Sunne does melt to see thy face , The perfect Modell of pure Grace ; H 'ad rather burne than mend his pace . The Marigold knowes none but thee , To whom she owes observancie , Opens and shuts at your bright eye . Though now this place is trim and fine , When you depart , all will decline , And others seeme more rich than mine . Oh then ! Clarinda , stay and bring Night into Day , the Winter , Spring ; We need not then a Wintering .

Clarinda describ'd . CLarinda ! Oh , that very Name Includes such worth , that he but dares Without a Reverence speake the same , Commits a sinne his teares and prayers Can ne're wash off : it is so foule , 'T is her pure sighs must cleanse his Soule . Who sayes , that Leda's Swan is white , Or sweetnesse dwels in Hybla's Trees , Or Roses balmie breath delight The Pallats of the active Bees , Deceives himselfe ; they all appeare Not worth our thoughts , Clarinda neere . Her Haire our Appetites entice , Her Front a Mount of bleached Snow , Her Eyes are Natures Paradice , Her Lips are Mines where Rubies grow : Her Breath perfumes the chequer'd fields , They have no sweet , but what she yeelds . Her Neck the polisht Ivorie weares , Her Brests the Valleys of Desire . When Love cuts through the circled Spheares , There lights , to coole the scorching fire His Brest receiv'd from her : whose art Without his ayd can smite a Hart. In every part she is most rare , All good in her contracted is , Nature's whole stock 's envolv'd in her , Th' Epitome of heavenly blisse ; Her Voice can stay the hand of Fate , Her Smiles young Cupids can create . Her ex'lence Metaphysicall , Partakes not of old Natures stamps , For she is supernaturall , Her Luminaries , Heavens Lamps : I will conclude , shee 's all divine , For else I ne're had writ her mine .

On Clarinda smiling . HAve you beheld the Orient Sunne appeare , Casting his splendour to each neighb'ring Spheare ? When cold-blood Winter copulated Ice , Congeal'd a Frost , cov'ring each Bough with Spice As white as Winters hayres ; how he displayes His youthfull heat , auspicious to his Rayes ; How each tree melts , or to a jelly turnes ; Such was Clarinda's smile , that ever burnes , And melts my yeelding Heart , that I till now Cloyster'd with Ice , could not of heat allow .

A Contemplation of Liberty and Love. VVHat is that freedome which men call A blessednesse to sport withall : Or what those joyes which Lovers deeme , To equalize their best esteeme , I long to know , that I may see , The diff'rence 'twixt those joyes and me .

Responsio . THen know , Loves joyes are such as still Are subject to Fates supreme will. And every howre the Lover findes Crosse friends , crosse starres , and crosser windes . Till Seas grow calme , and we arrive At Loves eternall peacefull Hive . If Patience then may bring me ease , Swell bigg a while you boyst'rous Seas ▪

Vpon the hinderance of meeting by raine , sent to his friend Mr. W. B. WHen last we did encounter with the GLOBE , The Heav'ns was pleas'd to grace us with his robe Of settled motions ; but Aquarius , hee , Like an ambitious Churle , disdaines that wee Should have another meeting ; Bacchus smilde , But not prevail'd , because an Infant childe : Nor could we get a Venus to embrace , Mars strives to keepe them back , and hold them chace . Iove stamps , Apollo frownes , th' Heavens all o're , Seeme as contentious , and are in uprore . Mercury doth seeme to clogg his feather'd h●eles , With weighty lead ▪ in stead of flying , reeles Into great Taurus center , the BULL-HEAD , Where , with dull Claret we our sences fed , Delaying time , till the roboyst'rous raine Ceas'd its unmatched course , then up againe To walk ; th' Heavens not yet appeas●d , cast downe Their urmost Envy in that flood to drowne Our then expected hopes , in that poore wee Were forc'd to keepe our center , not to flye . Great Bishop●gate can witnesse in what houre , We did arrive within its haplesse Bowre . The Gods did seeme thus angry , thinking wee Should by our mirth consume their Treasury . What 's best to doe ? wee must not now contend

Against their power , and so farewell my friend .

Vpon Inconstancie . INconstancie , how chance that thou of late , Art growne the chiefest Minion to my Kate ? Could your ambition finde no other roome , Or secret place , but make her brest your Tomb Of ayrie motions , filling so each veyne With swelling pleasures mixt with base disdaine : That now there 's not a corner scarce left free , To lodge a thought of hidden secrecie ? Hence thou insatiate Monster , Lovers hate . The Commons envy , and the scorne of th' State ; Get thee to Court , use there thy tyranny : Let Lovers sports alone ; base Infamy , Think not to harbour in a brest so faire ; I banish thee , and doe conjure thee , ne're Usurp that center yeelds us such delight : But usher thou th' obscure and darkned night Of ever gnawing conscience ▪ in such soules Whose base and impure actions , still controules Their pale-check'd Lovers ▪ on whose fickle state , Dispaire and horror doth attend and wait . Goe base Neglect , and scorne , presume no more T' assayle those Vertues , that her choycest store Shee may impart to me ; if thou be thence ▪ I know I shall not want her excellence ▪

Vpon Clarinda's comming to Towne , and departure . NOW comes the pride of Earth , the glorious Spring ; And Philomel , to welcome her , doth sing . The pretty birds doe play , And make a Holyday . And I with them present my offering : Th' Arabian Bird presents to her , her kinde , Ne're seene before ; on whose sweet face , the winde Suckt in his breath For feare of death ; And Phoebus in his Majestie then shinde : And on her head cast his perfumes : but they , As farre unworthy , to her breath give way . The odours which The World enrich , Did to her breath their choysest sents convey ; The Queene of Love asham'd , did hide her head , And Cynthia in a cloud bemuffeled , Did murmur there , And in her Spheare Waxt pale to see her lips and cheekes so red . The humble Pebbles where her feet did lite , Were straight made Jacinths , Saphires , Rubies bright , Who wantonly did kiste At such a change as this . And blest the comming of this glorious light . If any Objects pleas'd her , with a glance They should be Mynes of Dyamonds ; but Chance The fickle Goddesse would not be Propitious to our hopes , 'cause wee Shee fear'd , with her , might out-vye Spaine and France : Nay , both the Indies : None need plough the Seas To purchase wealth with toyle ; for , here with ease They might obtaine A world of gaine , Had she but writ in smiles to them , I please . But oh ! shee 's gone , and ev'ry thing has now His courser Nature on ; Winters rough brow , And Boreas blast With envious hast Rends ev'ry tree , dis-leaves each twigge and bough ; The Phoenix too retir'd unto her nest , And pining for her absence , pierc't her brest With sighes , and di'd , Left none beside Clarinda , with her worth to be possest .

On the first leafe of a Psalme . Booke presented to Clarinda . TO her faire hand I this direct ; Good Angels guide , and her protect That keepes my heart ; O , may shee be But touch'd with flames of Love , like me !

Another vacant leafe in the same Booke . SHine little Booke , more glorious than the Sunne , In her faire heart that hath thy Masters wonne : May'st thou procure in her relenting teares , To pitty him whose thoughts breed naught but feares . I know that thou hast power enough , and Art To wound , rewound , and cure a wounded hart . Thou art her chiefe delight , whose vertuous minde , To study thee from childhood hath enclinde : Tell her thy Master sent thee , for that shee Might think on him , by often reading thee .

To Clarinda , walking with her in the night in a Wood or Grove , she being fearefull . FEare not Clarinda , though th' emulous Night , Doubting his forked Queene shou'd loose her light , Retires behind a Cloud ; horne-mad to see , Her glorious lamps extinguished by thee . Yet did she know the good shee might embrace At her full rising , on her mealy face ( Viewing thy exquisite beauty ) wou'd be drawne Mantles of crimson blushes , t' grace the lawne Of her complexion , till the angry Morne , Growne pale with Envy , sues they may adorne Her cheekes . — But th' pride of Heav'n's ecclips'd , this peacefull Grove Enjoyes their Cynthia , ev'ry st●rre does move ( As your attendants . ) Here , what need I crave Twy-light from Heav'n , that such a Guider have ? Doe you not see each harmlesse creature hies With early haste to view those Radiant eies , As Heav'ns bright Tapers ? th' active Fayries doe Trip from their Glo-worme , and resort to you : But having seene you , vanish , thinking day Was sent their tardy errors to betray ; Repine , and dye for anger . Th' Nai●des Seeing themselves surpast in Beauty , please Their Fancies with adoring you , desire No greater blisse , than warmth from your pure fire . Why weepes my deare Clarinda ? here is none Dare injure thy knowne pur'ty , th' art alone In naught but singularity ; See , The skyes Offer their stock of teares , to save thy eyes . Mix not thine , with corruption ; they can be No lesse ( my Faire ) 'till puri●'d by thee . Each teare that falls from that coelestiall fount ▪ Is of more price , than Craesus wealth can mount To by Arithmetick ; 't is of that store , One drop will buy the world when it growes poore . See , they have left with thee , ambitious raine , To watch thy opportunity to gaine Such undeserved happinesse ▪ I 'le seeke Anon for ev'ry pearle upon thy cheeke : There shall not one be lost ; each tree does shake Their sappy heads ; drops falling downe doe take Hold with thy breath , compounded Nectar 's made , Which by Favonian winds is straight convey'd To Ioves Emperial Palace ; to the brink They fill their Bowles , and Healths about they drink To us , and our successe ; the blinking Boy Recovering sight by thee , is drunk for joy , And vowes unto his Mother , and the rest , To build his Paradise upon thy brest ; So proves my Rivall : but , I know , thy might Has power to blinde him ; as thou gav'st him sight , So drowne his expectation in the flood Of the incensed Justice of the good . The Graces waite for thee ; and Cedars now , As you past by , their lofty tops they bow , To doe you reverence , while you sooty Hall Stayes your approach to guild it , then it shall Resemble heaven for brightnesse . Fancie die , If what thou speak'st be an Hyperboly .

To Clarinda singing and playing on the Lute , shee being bashfull upon the sight of him . BLush not Clarinda , though my sences steale Upon thy modesty ; I prythee seale My welcome with a smile . Oh! stop not Sweet , Let once againe thy ayre and singers meet In blest contention ; I prote it , my eares Were rapt into attention , and the Spheares Wantonly tript to heare 'em ; sure , there lyes Some power 'bove Magick in those Star-like eyes ; Whose swift pursuit gives life unto each string , I'obey the touch of thy soft fingering . The amorous courdage of thy Lute convayes , Unto the Heav'ns such Harmony , that stayes The Planets to admire it : But thy breath Despight of Nature , can enlive pale death . Sing then Clarinda , ravish evry sence , With the choyse concord of thy excellence . Out-doe the Lybian Harper , touch thy Lute , And doome the world to silence , Angels mute , While thou chaunt'st Madrigals , whose flight may tell The world th' art Heavens only miracle ; For that the Earth till now has never bin Possest of such a glorious Seraphin . Oh happy roome that has atchived more Grace by her voyce , than e're thou knew'st before , Or thy first Master hop'd for ; shee has made Thee by her presence an Elizian shade . The dumb Effigies dance , and th' hangings doe Shake off their gravity , and congie to The motion of your body ( which till now Made gray with sorrow , wore a sullen brow ) And youthfully doe move ; my faire One , see , Thy Power 's above the reach of Poetry , Or Art , or Fancie ; live to cure the world Of Lethargies , and when curst clouds are hurld , T'oppres't — Send forth thy breath ; 't will purifie the ayre From Plagues infection , full , as well as prayer .

An excusive Letter made by the Author , for a friend of his ●o his Father . AS one who having rob'd , fearing no Law , Till hue and cry a●●aults him , and doth draw Perforce his body to the Gaole , where long Enduring ali extreames , at last is stung With some remorce of conscience , doth ●elent His wicked life , a reform'd penitent . He goeth farre that never back returnes , An angry fire 't is that ever burnes Within the heart of man. Oh! then be pleas'd To let your anger passe , and be appeas'd , Though all this while , my Infant yeares did stray , And trod the path of follies baiting way : Though all this while I was in blindnesse led , And all my sences unto fondnesse wed : My unripen'd yeares had not the wit to finde The vaine delights that still provokes the minde , Till buying wit now at the dearest rate , I gain'd experience through my best friends hate : Witnesse the daily teares I shed at last , In true repentance for my follyes past . Then worthy Sir , your pardon let me crave ; Without your pardon I no life can have : For better 't were that life from body fled , Than in your deepe disdaines lie buried . Let my repentance plead for mine offence , And my reformed life my innocence .

To Clarinda upon her absence from her window . FAirest , if passions might expresse my love , If my unfained sighes might force beliefe : If that my nightly watchings could but move Your Adamatine heart , and give reliefe ; Though now I praise your beauty , I should more , Make you my Idoll , as my Saint adore . Oh what unworthy actions have you seene ? What cause , or why , am I thus sleighted now ? And held so little in your wont esteeme ? Has my youth broke a syllable , or vow Which once I willing made ? speake , and be sure , To finde a spotlesse heart , as chaste , as pure . Why should you now withdraw that heav'nly light , Which struck amazement in each living creature ? The lustre of your beauty from my sight ; A grace bestow'd on you , by choyce dame Nature . You are her only choyce , O prythee why Should'st thou thus derogate , to let me dye ? Was it because my longing eyes did still Covet to view thy beauty ev'ry day , Glutting with surfets , yet had not it's fill , But begs a pleasing smile , and then away , Leaving behinde a heart so full of woe , That I could better stay than thence to goe ? 〈◊〉 was 't because my love to thee was such , That I each minute set thy prayses forth ; And never thinking that I lov'd too much A soule of such rare beautie , and pure worth , Hoping at last to purchase such a prize , That should Iove see , he might eternalize ?

To Clarinda , having had no answer to the former Letter . NOt yet an answer ! ha's your well-●●n'd Muse Forsooke her pleasing Pamphlets , and refuse To grace me , as the subject of her Verse ? Or doe you please to keepe 'em for my Herse ; Thinking your studies ( whil'st living ) were ill spent , Unlesse in jesting sort and merriment ? Not as a solid Lover , but as one Who ne're fetcht sighs , shed teares , or lent a groane , Which I , poore I , have done . Oh , why ha's Heaven Grac'd you with such a feature , and not given A correspondent heart ? or , if it be That you retaine your Lyrick Verse for me , To grace my sable Herse ; I 'le pray no more ; You need not , Lovers shall my case deplore ; Such as have knowne what 't is to lose a heart , They , they shall pitie me , and beare a part . And if thy studies be to such an end , Live happy , and embrace another friend , Whom you can fancie better , while poore I In peace forsake this Earths mortality .

To Fortune . GReat Queene of Mutabilitie , to thee I send my Votes ; nor beg I smiles from thee ; My low and humble thoughts shall ne're aspire To climbe unto an Earledome , or Empire ; Nor are they sweld with strong Ambition so , To beg a Lordship , or thy favours : no ; Since begging is so usefull , I 'le forbeare To beg , lest whipping fall unto my share . I will not aske thee any thing , but what Thou canst not give , that onely is my lot . First , I wo'd have from thee thy massie store , Whereby I may extend it to the poore ; Nor sho'd it court your fawning Parasite , Or kisse rich Dives wealth , that 's infinite ▪ Give me thy eyes , and with thy eyes I 'le see , To give desert its due , scorne flatterie . But thou art blind , they say , and do'st not know On what , or whom thou do'st thy wealth bestow . Thy judgement rather than thy eyes are blind , In my opinion , else thou couldst not find Such ominous distinctions 'twixt true worth And dunghill Doublets , muskt and sented forth : The Gallants Feather , and his tatling Spurre , The Citie Miser wrapt in 's Neighbours Furre , The Countrey-dolthead Mungrell brought to Land , Though illegitimate , is by thy hand Advanc'd above the ranke of Carters sonne , ( Reserv'd for laughter till his wealth is done ) Gulls were ordain'd wits pastime , 't is their fate To be wits slave , though on wits gold they bate . How aptly thou hast fan●i'd out their Mates ? On vitious Gallants still diseases waites , Accompanied with pride and infamy , Base sonne and daughter to civility . On your ingrossing Usurer attends Legions of tim'rous heart-quakes , that portends Some eminent danger , masqu'd with Vailes of gold , Immur'd in dung that doth his conscience hold . Your plodding Country-man , whose subtill shift Imploy'd to vex his neighbours by his thrift ; Continuall sutes in Law , a Termes vexation Consumes more angels than a long Vacation . His misery 's in this , his painefull evill Can never gaine 'bove factor for the devill . Then what are all these blest in , save the Ore That guilds their lives , yet leaves their souls most poore ? Shou'd I with strict severenesse use my skill In the deepe search of folly , wade my quill Through pitchy Seas of Satyrisme , I might Rip up thy parched intrals , and incite Each sence we master , to grow fat , and swell With uncurb'd laughter ; let my whispers tell , Thou do'st reside in ignorance , and braggs Most in thy gorgeous vestments , when the raggs Of poverty 's more pretious : what upholds Thy pride but indiscretion ? Will controules The Law of reason , and when these doe reele , Thy state is unsupported , and thy wheele Broke in despight of frownes ; thou canst not see ( As we doe ) into thine owne misery . Wrack not thy wealth on errors , but require More brawny-nerv'd assistance , whose pure fire Cohabits with true judgement ; wisdome can Envolv'd in reason , make the soule of man Run up the Pyramids of praise , and shew The world new wayes to honor thee . Then know Thy choyce of Votaries ; the Poet will Practise his Arts Encomions , and distill His rich harmonious Raptures that shall raise A Fabrick to thy name , 'bove th' reach of praise , Vertues white essence next in order shall ▪ Accompani'd with Patience , offer all Her stock of goodnesse , and the Scholler turne His books to Martyrs , at thy Altar burne . Europe must needs adore thee ; wonder more To see the Scholler rich , the Miser poore . Poets shall then disdaine th● thred-bare Bride , When silver-fac'd Pecunia is ally'd To their ingenious Pockets ; Oh 't would be , Me thinks a glorious metamorphosie ▪ But why am I thus passionate , and speake Of such impossibilities , to breake My Optick Science ? Well , the world may see , I wou'd hav 't so ; though Fortune lowres on mee , No matter , use your Envie , thou shalt be Enricht with nothing ▪ save inconstancie .

To Clarinda upon her inconstancie . I Finde ; you are no Changeling , for indeed You can dissemble neatly , and still feed My hopelesse comforts with your hearty vowes , That neither Faith , nor Constancie allowes : I blush to speake thy weaknesse , prythee why Do'st thou make black thy tongue with perjury ? Wantons doe often use it , canst thou be A faithlesse Wanton , and so faire a Shee ? I dare not say you love me , your reply Will then ungently give my tongue the lye . You are not true as I am , but still prove A seeming Saint , in vow'd dissembling love . Yet know , I love you , and would have you doe A miracle in Woman , to be true . What constancie canst thou expect from any , That art so fickle , and canst love so many ? I prythee leave dissembling , doe not gloze , Or guild thy words with vowes , make silver dro●●e ; Thy vowes are farre more pretious ; gold to them , Is as a Leaden Crowne to a Diadem : Which vowes you 'l use so often , that they 'l be The chiefest witnesse 'gainst thy guilt and thee .

To his much honoured friend Master Robert Newsteade Gent. TO rank thee friend , amongst my best of friends , For thy Quotidian favours , makes amends , In part , though not in all ; and then againe , When I conceive the fickle state of men , How soone their faith 's extinct , how quickly gone , Like to a thing but newly thought upon : My feare begets a passion , and doth strive To hugge my friends , and keepe their names alive .

To his good friend M. H. D. FRiend , I must blame thee , yet I thank thee too : Thou hast done that which many would not doe ; For when my lines lay open to your view , Begot by me , yet fetch'd their breath from you , Through your perswasions , and entreaty , I Have thrust my Rimes into the worlds wide eye , Where I expect their censure , yet I sweare , Be 't good , or bad , thou shalt embrace thy share . Thy verse my Verse to th' world doth Usher in ; Not to requite thee then 't were held a sin : Nor will I be too lavish in thy praise , ( Thy worth alone may gaine Poetick bayes ) All that I 'le doe , if any count me rude , Is to repell the brand , Ingratitude . Io. Tatham .

An Ode Acrostick-wise on the Vertuous Gentlewoman , Mistris A. P. Amongst so many , whose desire Lives fresh thy goodnesse to admire , I doe present my Votes , to be Crowned with thy Resplendencie . Enjoy thou Beautie , whose desarts Proclaime thee Mistris of all hearts , Vertues blessing , with those Graces Raigning in their proper places , Dayning now to wait on thee , Yeelding to thy Soveraigntie . And while the starres shall grace the Skyes , Like sparkes of light from Cynthia's eyes , Imbrace more blessings than can bee Cast by Arithmetick on thee , Enrich thy Nuptials with a Guest , Proud to harbour in thy Brest ; Vesta with her Virgin Crue , Richly deckt , to wait on you , Devoted comes , and at your Shrine Yssues forth her Offering . Aurora's sence-delighting Flowers Leave to deck her fragrant Bowers , Indeared to your ever Spring , Courting Philomel to sing Encomiasticks , as your due , Purchas'd by those gifts which you Vouchsaf'd to lend them , to adorne Rose-cheek'd and nixious-finger'd Morne ; Distilled Pearles from your bright eyes , Yeelds them their Morning Sacrifice . And now the Musick of the Spheares Lent by you , invites all eares ; Iuventa ' maz'd from whence it came , Comes to meet your Pophian flame , Early brings to please your sense , Pauch●ian Fumes , rich Frankincense , Vestituted with delight , Resplendent as the Morning bright , Dis-●obes her selfe , and leaves in truth You the onely Queene of Youth . Aglaia , with her Sisters two , Likewise comes to wait on you ; Injur'd Virgins to you flye , Craving shelter from your eye , Eterniz'd by those Blessings which Presag'd their Vertues should enrich , Vniting there an ardent Zone , Reason tells is you alone ; Dryades , with all their powers You command , and they are yours ▪ Arabian Phoenix needs must bee Lesse rare than Fly , compar'd to thee ; Iove in revenge , and envying me● , Chain'd himselfe , to dote on thee ; Emperious Love hath lost his heart , Pretending thou hast got his Dart ; Vowes must be onely made to thee , Releasing Loves captivitie ; Denie not your perfections true ; Youths Queene ( and all ) doth rest in you . All Beauties , Graces , Vertues bee Lively pencil'd out in thee : In thy haire we may discrie Chast Love sit in majestie ; Eyes thou hast , by which the Sunne Plyes his course , ere day be done ; Voyce ? the Nightingales sweet throat , Runs hoarsely to thy Dorick note : Dance ? did the rare Penelope Yet live , she needs must yeeld to thee : As in the Spheare of Goodnesse , ev'ry Sence Hath by instinct in you their Residence .

To Philomel . LEave Philomel , to make thy moane , 'T is I have cause to grieve alone : Thy Woes had periods ; mine must be Invaded with fresh Crueltie . The Joyes I have , are such as may Make the greene Spring a Winters day ▪ Or such as when desir'd , doe take A course to kill , for pitty sake . Cease then thy noyse of woe , unlesse Thou 'lt grieve for my unhappinesse .

To Clarinda . THat I did love thee , summon up my Vowes , As uncorrupted witnesses allowes No partialitie ; peruse my truth , Unspotted , as th' immaculate zeale of youth , Unfained , as the Orasons of Saints , Expird , as Altars Incense , that acquaints Heav'n with sincere devotion ; that I did Adore each feature , as well seene as hid ; Examine each particular line and phrase My doting fancie offer'd to thy praise ; That every smile enliven'd my dull sence ; Search but the custome of thy influence , And it appeares in Characters of blisse , No Paradise so pleasing as a kisse ; That I did deeme thy polisht Ivory brow , A firmament , wherein twin-starres allow A greater lustre than the pride of Heaven , Contracted t' a full sky-light , could have given Us Mortals Ask the World , and then o're which A Mount of Alabaster does enrich Thy smooth Ermin-like forehead , to thy cheekes , The stock of Flora for a refuge seekes . Those Tresses which thou wear'st are golden snares , Though falsly some did nominate them haires . The Affrick Coralls on thy ruby lips Mix their perfections , ●nd in Nupti●ll skips Trip to the Spheare-like Musick of thy voyce Able to charme a Seraphin ; the choyce Electrum in your neck ; your azure veines On snowy beds discypher to the Swaines The Tempe of true happinesse , when they By my command did to 'em homage pay . I set thee forth in Verse , rais'd thee so high , All sinn'd , that breath'd thee lesse than Deity . My praises out-did Nature , thou wert then The only subject for my Muse and Pen. The world shall likewise testifie ; but here — Yet wisedome bids me stop : I will not sweare , Though I have cause to execrate thy faith , Which is a blessing your sexe seldome hath . I will omit all rashnesse , only this , Confute thy soule even in its hope of blisse . False and neglectfull Woman , hadst thou bin Deformed in thy person , as thy sin , I sho'd have then abhorr'd thee , and my eyes Perceiv'd the strong infection in thee lyes . Thou art not faire ; 't was only Fancy led Me to Hyperbole's ; thy cheeks once red Colour'd by me , thy eyes , lips , hands and all , In Lethe have deserving Funerall . Thy breath infects as-killing pestilence ; No more Panchayan Gums , choyce Frankincence , Shall grace it with resemblance ; thou art Of an AEthiopian colour ev'ry part ; Pencil'd by Shame and Infamy : thy name Rac'd forth the Role of Constancy and Fame . The world only records thy falshood ; try If thou canst winne me to credulity , That thou didst love me once , and check each tong , For it's aspertion 't is no potent wrong , Lesse vindicated ; but my faculties Abjure thee now , though once thy Votaries , And cannot retaine beliefe Colusive you Were ever reall , but in being untrue ; That only thou wert made for ; else thy brest Would ne're have covetted a new imprest : But , like the constant Emerauld , have kept Its primitive , stamp , and purity ; falshood slept In ignorance : O yee powers , can there be An absolution for impiety ? If you 'l decline from Justice , then you may Flatter her erring hopes with a long day Of fatall tryall , whose conviction must Precipitate her gloryes into dust Sure , though prolong'd , the difference then will be ; Th' insulting freedome chain'd , my bondage free .

The Authors Dreame . WHen as my dull and weary'd eyes , had long With tedious watchings , 'bout my temples hung ; The vale of sleepe like a long wasted Lamp , Smother'd , went out , and fell into a damp : My sences tasting of some happinesse , Ambition rose , and strove for further blisse , Till that me thought , an Eccho in my eare , Bad , rise and follow me , why sleep'st thou here ? With that a Winter-sweat did over-spread My bloodlesse cheekes as in amazement dead ; Each limb did shake , my panting heart did knell Death 's sad unwelcome tone , Nights-passing-bell ; The selfe-same voyce againe did seeme to be The comforter of my sad hopes and me . Musick possest mine eares , in that I then Contemn'd my feares , and seem'd awake agen . No sooner had my eares enjoy'd so rare Unlook'd for pleasures , but did straight repaire A Lady of that beauty ( clad in white ) As seem'd to out-face Day , and conquer Night . Her haire dishevel'd hung , about her browes A wreath of Lawrell ; on her garments , vowes Of perjur'd Lovers , mingled with the blood Of some poore injur'd creature , that withstood No ill-tempestuous storme in hope to gaine For her pure constancie th' Elizian Plaine ; When as their spotted soules as black as hell , Shall choake themselves with vows in Pluto's Cell . Her brests not bare , but in a modest manner , Shew the pure colour of true Lovers Banner . Under the which they hold their second faith , ( Those spungy pearlesse Twins the females hath ) About which blood a pretious stone was plac'd , Such , as had Venus worne , it wo'd have grac'd Her wanton beauty , and have forc'd the Boy T'a'left his dallying , and the sport enjoy . On th' other side whereas black vowes doe make A darknesse shadow , brightnesse does pertake Of golden Charecters , that who so see , Must by those golden letters guided be . Rich Sandals fetcht from farre , of purest gold , Did her unvalu'd feet in pleasure hold , As white as is the purest morning milk , And seem'd insnar'd with fine Arabian silk . With her two Virgins also clad in white , Supporting on each side this Queene of light . Upon each garment artificially Was interweav'd a pearle distilled eye , Sad , discontented , languisht , broken hearts , Feares , teares , sighes , sobs , laments , and piercing darts . Crosse Fates , friends frownes ( in gold ) the Parents hate , Seem'd their contentions to expostulate , With that their soules sweet Organs tun'd . Forbeare ; Let thy feares vanish , we shall bring thee where Death keepes his Court , the sable irksome Cell Of murdering soules , where sinnes with Furies dwell : There thou shalt see each broken Vow to have Deserved punishment : dead , want a Grave . Yet feare not Youth , for through the ayre wee 'l hover , And with our robes of truth thy doubts will cover . My feares then left me , and we mounted straight On a wing'd Chariot they enjoyn'd to waite For us , drawne with foure milk-white Doves ; Such as dame Venus's pleas'd with , when her Loves Shee meanes to visit ; through the ayre than wee , Swifter than nimble-footed Mercury Did fly . — At length Such shrill confusions beat into my eares , As wo'd have sunk the world , dissolv'd the spheares : But Truth my still supporter , bade me be No whit yet daunted , for I soone sho'd see Horrours of worse affrightments ; with that shake The lower earth , and from a Sulphurous lake Flew flames of quenchlesse fier , with the smoake Of loathsome brimstone , eating trees of Oake . The dismall noyse of screech-Owles , hissing Snakes , To●ds , Adders , Monsters , and what else pertakes Of ugly poyson , seem'd a Cavalere , And fellow partner with all creatures there : In that fal● teares made furrowes in my cheekes , And for some reconciliation seekes ; With that demanding of my guider Truth , What place that was ? she answer'd , pretty Youth , A place where false neglectfull Lovers be ; Such as have cancell'd faith and loyalty . This is the place where thy disdainefull Faire Shall be created new ; teare her bright haire ; Rejoyce to have a Serpent to her bed , And by deformed monsters ravished . My panting soule then sunk , but tender shee Rais'd me againe , demanding straight of mee The reason of that passion ; I reply'd , I lov'd her still : though Reason it deny'd : Shall she for whom my studies I have spent , ( Faire Truth ) receive this doome and punishment ? Shall Monsters then enjoy what I before Did Idolize , and as my Saint adore ? Shall they suck hony from so rich a Hive , And glut themselves with that each soule alive Wo'd humbly kneele for : O , shall they then be The only meanes t' enlarge my misery ? Truth 's answer was , wee 'l leave this dolefull place ; Banish distrust , wee 'l mend our slow-wing'd pace , And drive thee to the Tempe of content , Where Love shall laugh at Falshoods banishment , And in dispight of Envie , shall obtaine The feeling welcome of his heart againe . Where Pyramus and Thisbe live in blisse , And there enjoy each other with a kisse . Then did we drive our Chariot through a Grove Of Mayden-flowers , where the Queene of Love Met with her Martialist , and present came With due salutes , and homage to Truths name . The Chariot staid , we lighted , and then went Into a place call'd Loves true ravishment . Where e'ry pretty Bird in warbling notes , Did give us entertainement with their Votes . Each Lover had his Mate , and on the Greene Did sport and play , and blush because o're-seene , Exchanging kisses , in so much that I Did emulate their candy'd jollity . The Virgins that did waite upon our Queene , Left her with me , and went into a Greene , Where two sweet Youths , clad in a crimson dye , Did give 'em entertainment to the eye . Joyes met with joyes , the Quiristers did sing , As welcoming the wanton youthfull Spring , Where in an Arbour , crown'd with Violets , Each with his Mate new happinesse begets . Truth 's smiling Aspect with her Affrick gemms , Offer'd a whisper to me , and condemnes My former incredulity , then gave Me her advice to purchase ought they have : Opens her richest Caskenet , and shewes The bed of Odours , where th' Elizian Rose , The sence-delighting Violets , and th' rest Of Flora's pride , are in a Garland drest , Compass'd about with little hoops of Glasse , Reflecting on each cheeke that by 'em passe . The ground-work honey , and the Juice of love , The Mornes refreshment . Nectar cast by Iove , ( Instead of dew ) upon their colour'd veynes , With oyle of Constancy to keepe from steynes Of every ruder hand , and there they lye Unpluckt by any , save Maturity . No mervaile then Winter cannot afford Us such Redolent Miracles , when th' hord And Closet that retaynes 'em , is a place Impal'd with all contents , and Beauties Chase , A Park where Harts keepe their Imperious way Without usurping Tyrants , they can pay Their Morne-devotion without losse of life , Exactions trouble , or a womb of strife : Here they like Doves , use Nature in her kinde , Mutually live each with his Mate , refinde From the grosse errors dwell in Mortalls , who Think 't is enough , in that they onely wooe , Without a thought of fervency , if one ( A Woman , for none else wo'd be a stone ) Finds an incurable folly to invade Her Lover , called passion , sh 'as a Trade , Though 't will scarce get her living , yet shee 'l grow Fat with insulting o're her Patients woe , Which custome 's here a Stranger ; here , said Truth , Lawes are enacted to entreasure Youth ; Here Flora's Spring , Autumne , and chequer'd May , The pleasing Gales of Zephyres doe convay ; And this their Winter Mansion : Yet they know No frosty finger can assault 'em so . Here they inhabit without nipping paine , 'Till gentle Zephyres post ▪ 'em back againe , To kisse the worlds knowne Wanton , then ensues Th' unused rashnesse that their births abuse ; Each wilfull finger and depraving hand With Insolency robs , uses command ( Instead of milde entreaties ) teares from thence The infancy of their sprung influence : Crops the sweet Virgin flower before the age Makes it compleatly ripe , while the sad Bryer , Mother to those rich gemms , embraces fier ; Or else left destitute : who does become Barren in nought but griefe , her martyrdome . Oh irreligious Mortalls , see your error : Covetous in nothing but in hoording Treasure , Which last like Roses , leaving once their Tree , Becomes inconstant through inconstancie . Then know the diff'rence , and invest thy selfe With whiter thoughts , banish respect of pelfe , That like a hellish Advocate delude Mans sence into a glittering servitude : Which choakes 'em in disgestion ; cut the tye Which binds thee to thy ruine , let 'em be Disjoyn'd for ever , and deeme constancie The only meanes of Fortune , for without Such resolutions never goe about To stile thy selfe a Lover ; 't is a thing Abhorr'd in reall Actions , 't will not bring Mortality to th' pleasure sign'd for thee , This sacred Tempe's true felicity : Where no tempestuous storme of Parents hate , Shall dare to crosse thy e're propitious Fate . Thy Love and thee 'mongst th' rest in sweet content , Shall spin your times in endlesse merriment : But if that she be obstinate , and still Disdaines our dread command and pow'rfull will : I 'le send a summon by our blindfold Boy , That shall convert to terror ev'ry joy . Goe tell the lower world what you have seene , As you doe honor us a Mayden Queene : This have I shewn you , that the world may know , What power we have , and what to us they owe. Then post you back , you winged Messengers , And leave him where we found him ; Time refers No other conference , for the gladsome Day Appeares ; then hence , pack on , make hast away , For feare our theevish frosty-bearded Time , Rushes through th' speares too fast , and Phoebus shine . With that they mounted me , and in the space Of one poore minute brought me to the place Where first they found me , that my giddy braine Struck with amaze , knew not from whence I came , 'Till gentle Morpheus , that did first surprize My weaken'd sences had unlock'd mine eyes , And gave free passage to each stretching part , By the pure skill of his ne're failing Art. Then kinde Aurora grac't me with a smile , And Phoebus welcom'd me from my exile . In that my late dull spirits then were apt To entertaine secrets in Riddles wrapt . Then did I think upon my former charge , Giv'n by my guider Truth to me at large . And all those pleasures I that night did see , Grew fresh and pleasant in my memory : That I not disobeying her command , Like a true Subject , in another land In trust for her , must let her praises be Blazon'd by Fames guilt Trump of Poesie . And first unto my Dearest as a friend , I did unfold my Dreame , and recommend Each passage I had seene , time , place , and where Of paine , joy , griefe , or blisse , she might have share . But shee not giving credit or beliefe To any such weake fictions , nor reliefe To me , or any others ; but doth still Continue in her bad obdurate will. Leave her I must ; but let her know , that face Shall live to be the subject of disgrace . Nor shall one teare be shed in pitty ; shee That liv'd disdainfull , shall disdained be .

To Cupid . CVpid , I 'm inflam'd with feare , Lest her beauty bribes thy care ; Shee 's sufficient to intice Vertue out of Paradice ; When her breathings kisse her lips , Expired Gums and Odours skips ; Every Accent is a charme , And her circle is her arme , In the which shee 'l raise or lay , Man or spirit , flesh or clay ; Shee 's an Artist that delights More in Conquests than in fights , 'T is her use to fetter those Icy-bodies she has chose ( In her owne reserv'd intent , T' appeare by it more excellent ) To her bright Phebean haire , Where perfum'd M●anders are ; In such a prison Iove , or thee Wo'd descend and Captive bee . But , here 's the glory crownes her most , Shee dissolves those lumps of frost , And gives it active blood and fire , ( Rather wonder , than desire ) Makes it forme ; for , from her eye , A hot Promethean flame does flye , And penetrates so ev'ry brest , Th' augmenting flames cann't be exprest . In that shee only erres in part , 'T is wilfulnesse , not want of Art. Shee shoots her scorching beames too fast , Piles flame on flame , and blast on blast ; And then she leaves him in his flame , Though one poore teare wo'd quench the sam● ▪ Her oyl'd expressions shee did gaine , From the false Mercurian trayne . 'T is a language windes the ●ares To admiration , gulls the Spheares ; Yet all these , rarities are us'd To the contrary sence , therefore abus'd . Then Cupid , now thou know'st by me , How to shunne her flattery : Be thy selfe , and let her know , Beauty does a reverence owe To thy powerfull frowne : goe play My part a while , and for me say , ( If that her smiles don't bribe thy wit ) Rather for scorne than praise she 's fit .

Cupids Summons . FAirest Mortall , think not I Priviledge a starre-like eye , Or the choycest Faire on earth ; I can blast 'em in their birth : Yet that you might feele desires , Quenching Loves Idalian fires . 'Mongst a many Beauties more , I preserv'd thee to adore My Deity : but now I see Thou disdain'st my power and me . Therefore by my Paphian Bow My commands must let you know , That a strange complaint of late , Beat a parley at my Gate ; And so entred , that the Gods With that uprore grew at odds : In so much that they me sent Messenger of punishment , In my Mothers sacred name , You a Traitor to proclame 'Gainst the Lawes of Love and Beauty . And to what you owe by duty To th' AEthereall powers and me , Cancel'd through Inconstancie . By my Bow and flaming Dart , By the Lovers bleeding hart , By the hand , and by the glove : By the eye that captiv'd Iove , I command and summon thee , At Loves Barre to answer mee , To what we shall there object , 'Gainst thy scorne and base neglect : Faile not creature , as you will Answer , your ensuing ill .

The Oath after appearance . PAle-cheek'd Mortall , now your eyes Returne their lustre to the skyes : No hue of Rosie-red doth guide The welcome Lilyes , as a Bride : Nor are th' Lilyes fresh , and gay , As they were the other day . The present guilt doth make it knowne , Beautie lent , is not your owne . Venus now the Queene of Love , Is in presence , and must prove You a disobedient heire To her glorious Hemisphere . Paphos Archer hates to owne You a sister to his throne : And must here as witnesse be To your black-mouth'd perjury ; Therefore on this gold-leaf'd booke , In which Lovers oft doe looke , Lay your hands , if you be free From usurping Tyranny , From the many sighes and teares Lovers use , their nightly feares : From their passions , folded armes , Lull'd asleepe with Syrens charmes , From the murdering of a Hart , Glorying at th' excessive smart : From an angry lowring eye , Spying Lovers destiny , From a mock or scornefull smile , That kills , though pleases for a while . From a heart that harbors scorne , Leaving witlesse Youths forlorne : You may freely sweare , but see , The Rose has left his Treasury , Your starres are clouded ; Rubies to Have left th' exchequer'd lips of you , And with sweet gales transported thence , To seeke a better residence . Hence to tryall Themis now 'Gainst thy guilt doth set her brow And Conscience calls ; you must appeare At Loves Barre , and answer there .

His Allegations against Clarinda . TO you faire Cyprian Dame , I doe present , A languisht heart bound to imprisonment , ( Without your faire releasement ) to an eye Swel'd with Ambition , flat Conspiracie , Whose still aspiring soule did think 't was duty , That greatest Mortalls shou'd admire her beauty . Nay , to that height Ambition had convey'd A strong beliefe , shee was not Earthly made , To entertaine a Love that had no power , Like Iove t' appeare in an Argolian showre , And when bright Sol his glorious Rayes displaide To grace the world , Conceit might soone perswade He● witlesse-fancie , his all-seeing eye , Borrow'd it's lustre from her brighter eye . Your selfe whom Paris well did judge to bee Heav'ns only peece , the fairer of the three , Shee wo'd not blush to say , had the Youth seene Her matchlesse Beauty , you had beene no Queene ▪ And I in ignorance beleev'd the same , Blinded with love , so weav'd into a frame Of doting passions , having no alliance To my owne welfare , or her base defiance . For her I wasted all my houres in griefe , Expecting comfort , yet found no reliefe ; Oft have I curst the Boy that first betray'd My hearts security , forcing me to wade Through th' ever sable streame of curst despaire , Or crimson gulfe of horror to the staire Of absolute madnesse , still ingendring ill , Now sink , then rise , subject to Fates sterne will : Not knowing thee to be of sacred line , Yet felt thy sting , but knew it not divine , As now I doe . But thought some Circes might With charmes bereave me of my bodies right , Forgive me sacred Deities ; no more Will I blaspheme your goodnesse as before . No oaths or vowes of Hymenean right Could move her minde , no liquid teares invite Her heart to pitty , no disast'rous fate Of future mischiefe could accelerate My present death . But in her scornefull looke , I read her meaning as in Anger 's booke , Sometimes with a dissembling smile retaines , Me longer to encrease my Love-sick paines . As doth the cunning Doctor keepe in ure , His queasie Patient , and prolongs the Cure ; Either to make his skill the brighter shine ; Or else for feare his Patient sho'd combine With others , and he lose his Cure ; e'ne so My cunning faire with smiles wou'd work too ; Knowing that none but shee had equall power , To crowne my hopes , or blast 'em in an houre . And thus in endlesse passions did I lye , Ling'ring my breath , Deaths bare Epitomy . Nor would shee pitty that my spring-like age Sho'd dying , live , in Lovers Pilgrimage . When as th' impartiall Maids have beene at strife , Which first sho'd cut my thred , and end my life , Shee 'd tyrannize o're my passions ; nay , and more , Disdain'd your power , whose ayde I did implore ; Telling me , Beauty had more than Love , Beauty was that strong charme enchaunted Iove . Then wo'd appeare such lightning from her eye , As seem'd to equall Iunos Majesty . Here doe I stand for to averre , and prove Her base , disloyall , and my constant love . Be just you Powers , and let your sentence be A punishment too good for perjury ; That future times perusing of her shame , May praise your Justice , and abhorre her name ; Without your sentence , all will soone aspire , Like proud Prometheus for to steale your fire : For th' envie of their Sex it is so deepe , They 'l study nightly , and revenge in sleepe .

The Censure of the Gods. Present . Iupiter Sol. Cupid Vulcan Iuno Venus . . . . . Sol. WEe will not heare her answer , her reply Will but adde torments to her misery . Her guilt is too apparant , therefore wee For thy aspiring thoughts , doe banish thee From that best light , which earthly creatures doe Admire , and yearely pay a tribute to . Since from thine eye such sparks of lightning came , To blast our servant here wee 'l vaile the same From thenceforth never — Venus . Forbeare ; indeed you wrong me : her offence Requires a censure from our Excellence . Was shee not Ours , 'till her presumptuous soule ( Inflam'd with Treason ) sought for to controule Our all-commanding power , has shee not bin Stain'd with the folly of Narcissus sin ? Has not her Beauty made the world below Forget that duty which to us they owe , Deeming our greatnesse but a fallacie , Mention'd by children in their infancie ? Then know , to us , to us shee has done wrong , Corrupting Mortalls with her venom'd tongue , To cast mists on our greatnesse ; since then shee Has not yet tasted of those sweets that wee , And those that live to love , doe still enjoy , All subject to the anger of my Boy : Shee shall be barren in that happinesse , And ne're embrace what hidden sweets there is In Lovers glances ; but shall live to be The onely scorne to Loves posterity ; Shee shall love one , and ( living ) love him so , Her love shall gaine his ha●e ; his hate , her woe . Iupiter . This must not be , your censure doth appeare , Not from desert , but Envie ; I dare cleare The innocent soule . Why barren ? cause , you know The sweets already ; none can merit so . Forsooth a kisse is envi'd , and a glance That does unbreath , mans spirits with a trance . Deni'd embraces is forbidden : what if I Endeavour to salute lip , breast , or — why ? Wo'd blushes beat me thence ? wooe her white hand To lead me to the fountaine , where I 'le stand As cold as Marble , 'till her lips doe seale A Patent for my entrance , I 'le appeale Not to your Will , but Love ; ah , ' t wo'd arise Mutually sweet , when both hearts sympathize . Come , you forget your selfe ; is it not rare , To have a woman honest , while she 's faire ? Which by your Sentence must be ; 'faith , and then Shee 'l grow more famous , though lesse lov'd of men . Had you beene charie of your Maidenhead , As you were of your Beautie , y 'might ha' spread Your Ivorie Leafes to Sparrows , and they 'd peck Those Letters out , which doe your Goddesse deck . Faire Maid , for that thou hast a stirring thought Of Greatnesse , hating all but such as brought A Showre like Us , into our Dana's Lap , We fancie thee too much , to let a Clap Of raging Thunder pierce thee — lend thine eare — What , is' t a match ? No : Why ? thinkst thou they heare ? We will adjourne the Court. Not ? prythee say ; I am incinder'd ; kisse me , 't will allay My heat : come , I will have it so ; wee 'l steale Into an obscure cranie , put the eye Of Phoebus out ; my appetite does frye . Vulcan . How Iupiter does looke now : 't is a prey Wou'd make all sell their happ'nesse ; by my fay A plump-cheek'd wench , and does deserve no lesse Honour than Venus , were she of her Dresse . I le to her — don't beleeve him Lasse , his Wife Will blast thee with her anger , intrap thy life , As she did poore Alomena's ; leane to mee Venus and I are out , I le none but thee . And though I 'm rough and sootie , yet I can Bestow on thee the pleasures rest in man , As well as he ; my hoofe shall be set right , If thou sweare to let me taste delight ; Or if thou wilt not sweare , or yeeld , yet bee A woman ; winke , and let me feed on thee . Iupiter . Thou art a sawcie Vulcan ; goe about To make me thunderbolts for th' Summer rout , Use your black-cru●ted hands i' th' Cyclops forge , Or dye your Hornes a sable hue ; disgorge Your juicie stomack where our Horses lyes ; Your man-like action needs must please their eyes ; Or make thy Wife turne honest : but I feare Mars ha's too late uncharm'd her Hemispheare . Vulcan . Why in this passion ? 'las , I will connive At all your doings , provided I may thrive As well as you by it . What , not agree ? Iuno shall know thy folly then — D' ye see How brisk he is with th' piece of Venerie ? The match is made , and he must clip the thred That tyes her beautie to her maiden bed . Iuno . Wee 'le make her feele our wrath . Why fall you not To Censure ? Where 's our Iupiter ? Absent : What , Courting the trash of Beautie ? Iupiter . Yes ; but loose My labour : shee 's growne cunning , to refuse . Nay , use your pleasure now ; shee 'l scarce be made Capable of Venus traffique , Wantons Trade . Iuno . Then , Boy , 't is thee we stay for ; let thy Art And tongue agree . Cupid . Doubt not , I 'le find her heart . Since I as Vmpire stand ; I will , that shee A faithlesse Wanton shall from henceforth bee ; One , whose insatiate Wombe no meane shall know , But prostitute her Body , till shee grow Unusefull , and that time shall let her see A period to her hidden Venerie . Her person shall be much desir'd of many , Nor chast nor constant shall she prove to any , But covet to imbrace new fashions still , Whereby to glut her base insatiate will. Those that have long been practisers in sin , She shall instruct new wayes to wallow in , And with her faire illusions shall invite All sorts of Nations to her seem'd delight . But when her Face with furrowes shall appeare , And that her Cheekes no Rosie colour beare , When her soft Lip shall want the force to bind Thousands by adjuration to her mind ; When as the youthfull heat hath left to raigne , And that her Nerves an Icie cold retaine ; Where Eyes begin to looke into her Soule , Where they espie it spotted , wicked , foule ; When as her Hands , so much admir'd , shall be Wither'd , and like a bare Anatomie ; Then shall she lingring live without reliefe , Nor shall one prove a helper to her griefe . Those whom her youth and time she spent withall , ( When as her Beautie became prodigall ) Shall loath to heare her nam'd ; and more , her fight Shall be to 'em as poys'nous Aconite : And when that Time shall , with his Neighbour Death , Steale unawares , and stop her vitall breath , All that she leaves behind , is bu● her Name , And that lives onely to enlarge her shame . So , while she lives , her life is but a hate , And yet her death proves more unfortunate : Wretched by birth , and so brought vp to woe , In Life accurst , in Death her Soules chiefe foe . Then what remaines , but onely this to prove , A scorne to Time , a hatred unto Love ? And on her Grave this Epitaph shall be Read , to condemne her vitious memorie .

Her Epitaph . HEre remaines a Piece , that shame Does forbid to owne , or name : She was once , as this , a Stone , 'Till Conversion made her none ; Then her Beautie stain'd her Soule , Being faire , she was most foule : Lov'd , yet hated all ; 't is crost , Whom she lov'd , she hated most . She was skil'd in Language too , Ev'ry Nation did her woo ; She cou'd French interpret well , Till she fashion'd how to spell Through the Nose . If any passe On this tender yeelding Grasse , To view this Piece , doe not weepe , 'T is a passion they may keepe ; Onely Charitie bids us say , She is happie now she 's Clay .

Omnes . We like thy Censure well , and are content She shall endure thy Doome and punishment .

An Epithalamium on the two happie Paire , Thomas B. Esquire , the younger , and his faire Bride . VP lazie Morne , send through th' odorous ayre A blush , that may invite the Hemispheare To wonder , then looke pale with spleene , denie To all , save to this Bride , supremacie . Wonder ; in that the still usurping Night , Fat with the weight of sinnes dismounted , spight Of his assistant Horrors , e're his Raigne , Fatall to erring Mortals , cou'd obtaine Its finall course ; and Day appeare , before Thy Porter had unhing'd his painted Dore ; And 't is confest , that Night two houres ha●s lost , Since her bright rising banished his Host ; Starres hid themselvs in Clouds , no Cynthia seene , The petty Lights would all have Cynthias beene , Could they have vanquisht Nature ; but the height Of their Ambition prov'd their Opposite , And sunke them in their Errors ▪ Oh! to see A Heav'n on Earth , yet Heav'n no Heav'n to bee , ' Lesse by her Light assisted ; th' Skie appeare In sable dresse , while Day did trip it here , A new Aurora brake , whose potent smiles Gilded the Easterne Morne , thaw'd Winter Iles Tyl'd o're with plates of Ice ; shew'd th' Heav'ns grow poor In goodnesse , yet from her they may gleane store , To furnish 'em for ever , ' lesse they be Too prodigall of her liberalitie . Hamstead was made a Paradise , each Bush Retain'd a Spring-like Coat ; the chirping Thrush Grew proud and wanton , and did use their Note In fancying Anthems , which they got by Rote ; The chanting Philomels mellifluous straine , O'th'piked Eglantine reviv'd againe ; The am'rous Spring and Roses there were blowne , That in their Chaos slept , forgot , unshowne ; The frostie-bearded Winter at her feet Dropt into Pearles his substance ; and the Sheet That Earth of Nature borrowes to lye in , Chequer'd with Flòra's beauties , did begin To prove abortive , came before their time ; Yet safe deliver'd of its Spicie slime , Forc't by her radiant lustre ; ev'ry Tree Wore Fruit forbidden , cause her Liverie . Can this stirre Wonder in thee ? No ; for 't is No wonder , didst thou know but what shee is : Shee 's all divine , whose Virgin influence Merits the courtship of the dayes bright Prince , By whose amplexures , mixtures , Nuptiall tyes , Religious Votes shall from each Soule arise , To blesse their bright Conjunction ; for the which , Hymen , whose care is Vertue to enrich , Hath singled out her Consort , brought her one That out-rayes P●oebus through his Horizon ; Adorn'd with Masculine Vertues he can be : Should I compare him to th' Heavens ; but He , And in that He , consists such ample worth , We want a Homers Pen to set it forth . He 's exquisitely rare , shou'd I say more , ' T wo'd not enlarge his worth , but make me poore In fancie : for alas , what need I tell The world a storie , which they know so well ? I will conclude in prayers , not in prayse , Though you deserve them both , while I have dayes Or minutes to unburden : may Encrease For ever Crowne the Harvest of your Peace ; May you live like two Angels sent from Heaven , To teach the world examples , and run even In Vertues progresse , till your sacred Urne Claymes its prerogative , your ashes turne The Phoenix Exequies to nothing . Why ? Your lives extinct , Perfections with you dye ; Nor shall our Ages after mention one , Without committing Sacriledge , you gone , But your Remembrance , which shall last , and be The onely Phoenix to Posteritie . Shine like the Twins of Miracle ; for it 's true , Nature comply'd with Wonder , framing you . Let your refulgent Beames afford more Light , For Turtle loyaltie , than the wisht sight Of Phoebus , rouzed from the Ocean , Ascends to his full Lines Meridian . Flourish in the blest Concords Unitie , And spinne your Lives into Eternitie .

An Epithalamium on the happie Nuptials of his much respected friend Geo. F. Gent. RIse wanton Phoebus , leave thy am'rous play , And prune thy selfe , to grace this Nuptiall Day ; Shake off thy drowsie Looks , and let thine Eye Appeare in its full height of Majestie . Let Hermes in his greatest glory shine , And Bacchus drink full Bowles of Helvian Wine : Let Iove forget to play with Ganimed , And Mars once leave the Cyprian Goddesse Bed ; Vesta , with all thy Darlings , hither hie , And crowne our Wedding with thy companie : Bring thou our Bride to Church , but leave her there ; Nor blush not , if she chance to shed a teare ; Feares doe possesse the tender yeares of one , Unapt to know th' untwining of her Zone . Hymen ▪ Rites finisht , let your Welcomes be To grace our Bridegroome with your Companie . And now let chast Desires adorne her Bed , Whose Blushes shewes the Dye of Maydenhead ; Wishes and sweet content may they possesse , Each heart bring joy to th' other numberlesse . Who bids Good-night unto our Bride , be dumb , ( And sayes no more ) Such as shall hither come , Must not bring one Nights joy alone , but force Their throats to reach with Eccho's , till they hoarse . Millions of joyes attend 'em both for ever ; May they be curst who shall their chast hearts sever .

Acrostick on the well-deserving Gentlewoman , Mistris Eliz. Hill. Enricht with Natures choisest Excellence , Light to thy Sex , thou art rare Quintessence , Ioves e're admired Creature , in whose face Zeale seemes to keepe account of womans grace ; A thousand joyes attend thee , and may e're Beautie ( adorn'd with Vertue ) be thy share ; Exquisite Creature , whose perfections lye Transparent to each well-discerning eye , Heaven sends you here , to grace Mortalitie . How much was Helen counted to be faire , In so much more thou art beyond compare ; Love is thy Mirror ; then be not too proud , Lest Heaven dims that Beautie with a Cloud ; And so debarre us Mortals of that blisse , Which each deserving Soule desires were his .

Acrostick on Mistris Marie Rashley , in requitall of her Musicall entertainment . Many that knowe you not , may thinke that I Am by affection led to flatterie , Raising your Vertues to sublimest height , In hope to gaine you as my purchas'd right , Enflam'd by Love ; ah no , my zeale is such , Rare Phoenix , that I cannot write too much , As prayses due ; for shou'd Apollo heare Such Dorick Musick , he wou'd leave his Spheare ; Hymen wou'd boast , if you unto his Shrine Love , with your Vertue , bring as Offering ; Each God wou'd leave his Throne , cou'd Nature frame Your equals to embrace their Paphian flame .

On his very loving friend , Mistris Bridgett Peck . Acrostick . Beautie with Vertues , doth enlarge the store , Riches without those Vertues , are but poore ; In thee both shine , to make thy brightnesse knowne , Dame Natures glorious workmanship alone , Grac'd with her feature , and so highly priz'd , Emaculate , to be eternalliz'd ; Thou peerelesse piece of Vertue , live to be Times wonder , and Mans chiefe felicitie . Prudence , the Soule of Wisdome , 's in thy brest , Endu'd with all thy Graces , and there rest Courted . Vrania in thy Brest doth find Kind Zeale , the true Companion to her mind .

To his vertuous Kinswoman , Mistris S. B. IF to adore thee , were not held a sinne Beyond the reach of mercie , I 'd begin To render up my Orasons to thee , And so by custome , write thee Deitie . If to admire thy Beautie , and thy Grace , And prayse the Native Liveries of thy Face , Tell Stories of the whitenesse of thy Brest , Thy Hand , thy Legge , thy Foot , and never rest , 'Till I had made thee famous with my Pen , And rais'd thy Name in great esteeme 'mongst men ; If with industry I sought to please ; Yet thou would●st count 'em but Hyperbole's ; So modest is thy faith ; thou canst endure No straines of wit , that seemes to be impure , Or stuft with needlesse superstition , The knowing follies in some wanton one : Thou art entirely vertuous ; Pardon me If I transgresse , speaking Truth 's Embassie : For he that 's zealous , will confirme the same , Love blowes the fire , but you can quench the flame .

An Elegie on the vertuous Gentlewoman Frances Dixon . WHy smil'd the Heavens ? why did Sol display His golden beames to grace the slow-foot Day ? What made th' AEtheriall power to cleare the skies ? And why did Venus scorne thy Obsequies ? While Vesta's Darlings wearing black , did shew What true devotion to chaste corps they owe , Iove did appeare , and court thee e're grim Death Had pow'r to stop thy od'rous balmie breath . And hadst thou yeelded , then thy yeares had bin Enlarg'd to feast the Gods with pleasures sin : But making sleight of 's gifts , enraged hee Leaves thee to what the Destinies decree . Then 't is no mervaile that the Heav'ns did smile , To see weake Mortalls can their hopes beguile . Thou mirror of true Chastity , let mee Pay hourely tribute with my teares for thee . Nor think pure course as many use to doe . I strive with them to mourne in fash'on to . Ah no , I hate it : for my inward part Shall witnesse that the Mourner is my hart . Religion wept , and sung , and Vertues score Was paid in teares , and sighes , her only store , Sending thy sable Herse homeward to blisse , Where Chastity receives it's happinesse . And the fresh tincture of thy virgin-Tye Shall wreath thy brow with spotlesse memory . The Gods did smile for anger , 'cause poore wee Enjoy'd on earth so rich a prize as thee ; And in a rage have t'ane thee from us here , To place thee in the Elementall sphere .

On his loving friend M. John Day an Elegie . DOn Phoebus now hath lost his light , And left his Rule unto the night : And Cynthia shee hath overcome The day , and darkened the Sunne : Whereby we now have lost our hope , Of gayning Day in 's Horoscope . A strange Ecclipse did late arise , Where naught but blood did deck the skies ; And in that fight was ta'ne away , Our thrice desir'd refulgent day ; And only Phoebe does appeare , To grace the mournfull Hemisphere ▪ With her dew-ey'd Hyades , Hoping with their lights to please The angry world ; but 't is in vaine To think their light can longer raine , Since their chiefest ayde is gone Day : and left his Horizon . Yet from th' East we may descry , A new Day approaching nigh . To whom th' Heavens have given strength , And made his houres of equall length ; Vowing that the Night shall ne're Displace him from his golden sphere , 'Till this Sunne begets a Sunne , And his Sonne another Sonne .

Epigram 1. WIll the Perfumer , met me in the Street , I stood amaz'd , he askt me what I meant . In faith , said I , your Gloves are mighty sweet , And yet your breath doth cast a stronger scent .

EBRIUS . Epigram 2. EBrius had long sick of a Feaver bin , And feeling the reward he had for sin , Did freely vow unto the powers Divine , ( But at his meat ) not to drink any wine . And be'ng recover'd , he began to think How he might keepe his vow , and safely drink . And wheresoe're he came , commanded straight , That cloth and meat sho'd on the Table wait .

A BRASIER . Epigram 3. IOnas the Brasier and his wife fell out , He call'd her Slut , and so it came about . Slut Knave shee said , now in good sooth you lye . With whom ( quoth he ? ) whereat shee gan to cry , Reply'd ; Enough ; I 'le yeeld in such a case , When you are still your selfe a Brazen face .

Epigram 4. A Youthfull Lad match'd with a wrinkl'd Dame , Whose gold did kindle in the Youth a flame ; And being wedded , shee with teares wo'd say , I feare my Heart , that thou wilt gad astray , Because my time with age is almost spent , And cannot yeeld to Youth its full content . Yet prythee Love let me this poore boone crave , That you on me a small respect will have . Feare you my love , said he ? now I protest Thy teares have wrought impression in my brest ; And here I vow , by Heav'n , if thou would Desire to eare ( thou should'st not want ) my gold . But this I sweare , if he co'd so provoke her , His full intention was for to have choak'd her . FINIS .

LOVE . Epigram 5. IF any Soule desires to know How Love at first came blinde , Before the Poet made him so , The Reason now h 'shall finde : Which here to All I 'le willingly impart . Love shot his eyes and lost 'em in my heart .

LIPS . Epigram 6. I Was in company with two or three Dispos'd for Mirth ; amongst us was a Lasse Handsome enough : her Prodigality With frequent kissing on our lips did passe ▪ To one shee 'd say , How do'st thou like that kisse ? And to another ( faith ) thine was as sweet ? Swearing her lips dissolv'd , the juice of blisse , Which betweene hers , and ours , did freely meet : Whereat , we all did laugh ; I sweare ( quoth she ) If you say otherwise , you say not well ; I will refe●'t to you , Sir , meaning mee : Are they not moist , pray taste againe and tell . I did so , and reply'd ▪ thus much I felt , Either thy Lips , or else thy Painting melt .

DAME SULLEN . Epigram 7. PUtting some questions to a Sullen Dame , To each of them her answer still was , Well : The more I strove t' divert her from the same , The more she plagu'd me with her apish Well . Impertinent to my demands ; at last Finding a way to search her folly out , And change her note which formerly had past ; I us'd my Art to bring the same about , Speaking but this , How doth thy Husband doe ? Shee fetcht a sigh , and said , he do's but ill ; Pardon mee Sir , for I must tell it you , The more 's my griefe , and much against my will , He is so frigid growne : He has not done Me right , ( I vow ) since the last Mornings-Sun .

A Lawyer and his Wife . Epigram 8. A Beetle-headed Lawyer , one of those That leaves his Conscience in his other hose For feare of Bribing , and could never spell Vices imo Iacobi perfect well , Knew no more Latine , than his Clarks afford Him to encounter with the Kitchin-boord ; Some stale unsavory stuffe , at second hand Which he will have , to never understand ; He knowes how many lines there 's in a sheer , How Fayres are kept , and how his Fees do meet : And that 's enough for him , the rest must be Supply'd by his Clarks best indust'ry . I name no man , but there was such a one , Liv'd in Tricesimo of good Queene Ioane . This man of worth was wedded to a faire And comely Creature , born neere th' Northern ayre , By whom the Churle got wealth ; yet he ne're thought On th' richnesse of the Jewell he had bought Almost with nothing ; and would scarce allow Her Buttermilk , or strokins from the Cow : Yet the poore thing with patience did endure ●ll this and more , saying to her selfe , that sure H● would one day remember , how he had Promis'd her often , the next Fees should clad Her pretty body : His Fees still came in , But still with his old Note he would begin , The next that comes is thine , in Sexto Girle Thou shalt walk in , or say I am a Chirle : Which the poore soule could have said long agoe : But to be briefe , the wooll was yet to grow Should make her cloth for Gownes and such like things She had occasion of ; each day he sings One Note , and strives with words to put her by ; Till need had found her out a remedy . And of his Clyent newly come to towne She took up Fees , and he took up her Gowne .

To his much esteemed friend M. Iohn Tatham on his Fancies Theater . FRiend , let me honour thee , I did not think 'Till now , th' adst sipt at Agamppes Brink , Though I confesse thy Genious was so free At all times , that I fear'd thy Poetry Would with conveniencie appeare unto The World , and Friends ; something I have to doe , And this it is ; I tell thee Friend , from me Thou must expect no straines of flattery In too much praising ; Thus much I dare say , I know thy Fancies each sence ravish may As well as th' have done mine , for I ne're knew A line , but what was good , proceed from you ; I 've said enough , and though I last am come To fill a Page , and take up Paper roome ; Yet with as free a Heart to these last lines Of thine , I offer as to those which shines Before , thy Friends have done ; and proud am I To be a Sp●rke 'mongst starres in such a skie . Geo. Sparke .

To the Honorable Sir John Wintour Knight , Secretary of State , and Master of Requests to the Queenes most excellent Majestie , The Honor'd Patron of his Book . THe Vine and Figg-tree to the God did bring Their Mayden-tributes for their offering , In hope to purchase by their blest Decree , Favours that should our last Mans memory , And to that end , plead Merit , shew that Wine ( Mans nourishment ) without the Grape-sick vine Had ne're beene thought on , nor the dimpled sunne Of Semile sit crown'd upon his Tunne With the Grapes Chaplet ; then the Figg-tree too Boasts of her worth , shews what her strength can do With forraigne States , how great , how rich , how skil'd In Languages : the Merchants Cofers fil'd Partly by her large travels ; how the sence Of man is cherisht by their excellence : And both concluded if the Gods did please For a set-time to grant 'em Writs of ease From future transportation , that they might With more security enjoy their right , And be the select trees of all the rest , That by their sacred favours should be blest , They 'd render duly to their Treasury , A full encrease for perpetuity , And add unto their titles more than yet Was fanci'd in the Poets veine of wit. The Lawrell , Pyne , and Poplar that could ne're Boast of a happy fruit to crowne the yeare , Hearing th 'others o●tentation , th●ught There was no hopes for them , they had not brought Things meritorious ; nor could they infer Large circumstance , to make the Gods confer Their choicest blessings on ●em , all their stor● Was in their naked selves , barren and poore . These Barren Plants doubting a sad successe , By reason of the others happinesse , Would have departed ; but the pious Gods Knowing their faith was sure ( how e're the ods 'Twixt em in riches made the others bee In ●ore respect with Worldlings , ) did agree ( For some reserv'd conditions ) to supply Their poore defects by gracious clemency . The Vine and Fig tree straightway hereupon Stole from the Presence , sham'd at what they 'd done ; Those that were worthlesse trees of late , are now By the Gods Patronage and gentle brow , Made happy , and the onely trees that be Held famous , for their singularity . The Moral 's mine Sir ; great ones favour men Of meaner quality , not for deserts that pen Them meriting Characters , but in favouring them They give them all their worth , esteeme , and jem . So the reflection from your Honours eye , On this weake peece , will awe base Crit●c●e ; And so secure my freedome , that I may ( Soaring above their spleene ) your Will obey .

To a Gentlewoman having beene scandaliz'd by some . GRieve not deare Mistresse ; faults that are undone , If but suspected , might as well be done 'Mongst soules of no capacity , that draw An envious breath , not rul'd by Reasons law ; They may more safely tax the Gods of sin , Than the composed strictnesse y 'ave liv'd in , Who rather are the Patronesse of Truth , Spending in broken sighs your pretious youth : Than one that gives way to those loose desires Our giddy Youth are prone to ; such quick fires Ne're boyl'd your innocent blood , nor in your brest Did e're impure thoughts discompose your rest ; You ne're were drest like th' gaudy Queene of May , Swimming through th' streets in Coaches to a play ; Nor did you ever weare in your faire looks Lascivious glances , Lusts intangling hooks : You never kept your bed to use your wit , To ape a fashion , which to patterne it Would puzle all the Taylors save the French. O fairest Mistresse , would my teares might quench The flavour of your sorrow ; I know you ●ree From this black , false , unheard of calumny , Or each particular Page or line that may Admit of blurres to wrong thee , or decay The least of thy perfections ; Think not then It lyes in th' malice of the devill or men To staine thine Innocence , whose unspotted zeale Onely to Heaven , not to the World appeale . There you are fixt a Saint already : why Then you 'd waste your selfe so pensively ? These scandalls wound you not , they 'l heavy fall On their owne heads , whose weight will sink 'em all . Temper your crosses Mistresse , be more milde To your faire selfe , than vainely thus to strive Against your Natures sweetnesse , and impose Such cruelty on your selfe . Malice that throwes Her venome at you , if I doe not erre , Shall with 't be her owne executioner : So did the spotlesse Damsell suffer wrong , By the sinne-plotting Elders ; but e're long Heaven did acquit her : And so Heaven pure Maid Doth acquit thee from this aspertion laid ▪ So have I seene a fierce-opposing cloud , With an intent bright Cynthias light to shroud Under its sable wings , in triumph stay For a set space , then dully move away , When with a sudden motion shee 'd appeare Bright as her selfe , yet to our eyes more cleare Then formerly shee was : so is' t with thee Whom Envie left in deepe obscurity . But now shine forth , th' illustrious beames display , And make our night seeme a continuall day .

A Wart on a Gentlewomans arme . WHat 's that so neere your skin ally'd and will not thence , His head is in your colours dy'd without offence . His perfect red and white hath mixt , So long with your pure blood he 's fixt , and will not part Without much trouble to your heart : but why D' you hide it now , and set a Dye upon your cheeks , As being bashfull , cause it seeks the light , It cannot sure appeare more white than on your arme ; Nor weare a better coat of red , Than your chast blood hath mingled most sweet and warme ; So Strawberries suck the gentle streame Of fresh and most delitious Creame .

To one professing and swearing love to all Women . 'T Is not Love thy pulses beat , But the Itch of base desire ; Whose impure unlawfull heat Sets both life and soule on fire . Love delights not in those things Which disgrace and ruine brings . Love is figur'd as a Childe , Emblem of pure Innocence : Passionate , but undefil'd , Zealous , without a pretence . Love doth carry in his eye Constant flames that never dye . Love 's not subject unto change , Nor doth his affection move , Where time-pleasing Fancies range Epicures with freedome prove ; 'T is not to each face that 's faire , Hee doth his all●geance beare . Nor is' t Oathes that make a Lover : Flying vowes to ev'ry shee May intemperate lust discover , Where consuming follies bee . Love is simple of himselfe , And respects nor praise , nor pelfe . Love 's not guided unto feare By the Tongues deceiving Art , Raptures that intrance the eare . What he covets , is the Heart , On the which hee doth display Beames farre clearer than the day . At Loves sacred Altar lyes Hearts as stainlesse as the Dove , Mutuall in their sacrifice To the purity of love , Which with Nuptiall kisses smother , Growing flames in one another . Then if thou intend'st to ayme At a Lovers part , be just ; Punish that destroyes the same , Prick thy sw●lling veynes of Lust , Let thy rank pollution run , Hee 'l adopt thee then his sonne , While thou seek'st to please thy eye , Never hope to taste true bl●ss●s , When the appetite doth fry , Surfeits so , it pleasures misses ; For the blest desire of Love , 's by inspiration from above .

A Song to the picture of a Lover in his absence . COme , oh come away my Deare , Let me not for ever languish : Lest I buy my joyes too deare ; Sighs my tender Heart will vanquish ; For thee I have out-watch'd the night , While angry starres did read my story , And silver Cynthia hid her light , As envying at my wisht-for glory ; When thus upon thy lips I plaid , Making a soft impression there , The jealous Goddesse then dismaid For her Endym●on , left her sphere , And ever since hath harbour'd here .

Seeing a Gentlewoman making her ready in a window . WHat new light 's you that breaks and wraps man's sence Into a world of wonder , excellence Discypher'd to the life ; some good protect My eyes lest they transgresse ; I could affect Each amorous glance or gesture she bestowes On the reflecting Flatterer , how she throwes Odours 'gainst odours , and her snow-white hands Distilleth oyle of Roses , she commands The Sunnes retirement , and for him does light My Fancie to rare objects infinite . See , see the Twins of Miracle , her Brests Whiter than new falne snow the spycie Nests , And Pillowes for Love● lips to rest upon ! Now she disroabes her night-clothes , now goes on Her rich Carnation sattin to intice Men to forsake their hope of Paradice . Delusion , vanish ; doe not think to win Me from that blisse I have possession in , Though my Clarinda's lost , I will not be Polluted with thy vile immodesty . Thy skin though white shall ne're infect my eyes , Or staine my cheeks with blushes , nor surprize A thought of mine ; no Counterfeit ; I doe Abhorre thy actions and thy colours too ; Wilt not yet leave t' allure me ? by that power Dwells in my Mistresse name , I doe conjure Thy absence from that casement which lets in Nought but the stragling fantasmes of sin : Oh : art thou slunk away , had her pure name Sufficient skill to make thee know thy shame , And now in some obscure unhallowed place Thou pin'st ( unpittied ) at thy owne disgrace . Pardon me dearest Mistresse , that I have Made use of your blest name as ayde to save Me , from the errors I was leaning to , And heretick-like forgot my faith in you .

To a coy Mistresse . THink not coy Mistresse , I am one So fond , that can affect a stone , Or some such thing , unlesse I see There 's something in 't will pleasure me . I cannot tye my Heart on looks , Angle whole Summers in the Brooks . In expectation of a dish Of Salmon ; 'cause a Princely fish . I cannot dwell on such delayes , Or stay in hope of Halcyon dayes ; If I possesse my pleasures now , No happier dayes will I allow . Why should I hope for things to come , That may be had with ease of some ; So trifle pretious Tune away For empty hopes , and fruitlesse play ? Because y' are something faire , must I Wait your coy leasure to reply , When with some other long e're this , I might have felt a Lovers blisse ? I can as well content my sense , With one of lesser excellence That 's not so nice , nor will debate The time , when love should actuate . I 'm earnest ( Mistresse ) ; and must try ( If you refuse ) a remedie Else-where ; you know that youthfull blood Consumes it selfe , unlesse withstood . Then quickly let me know your minde ; Delayes are childrens play ; be kinde As you are faire , and let 's possesse Our Loves , and pleasures numberlesse . A Cherry gather'd in the Spring , Is a choice Present for a King ; Those that till August hang , you know Are rotten , and then common grow . Those Roses too that have desire To dwell still with their mother Bryer , Must at the last ( though let alone ) Fall off themselves , when over-growne . The Cherry and the Rose would be Of little value , did not wee For novelty sake , allow them good , Their worth would scarce be understood . Women had long since lost their name , Had not wee men reviv'd the fame . You might like things neglected lye , As uselesse , were not men you nigh . Then think on this , and let us prove , There is no joy on earth but Love , That every simple Lasse may finde ( As we did ) fire of subtle kinde . Those foolish Girles that feele a heat , Their bashfulnesse dare not repeat : When they by us know what to doe , They 'l banish feare , and fall to woe . And so by our example , they That have beene stubborne , will obey ; And Girles that stay 'till fifteene , will Repent the time they spent so ill . All sorts of people from the age Of twelve to thirty shall presage Our happinesse , and joyntly come To crowne our Loves El●zium .

Meeting a peece of Mortality val'd . VNvale thy selfe , and shine as bright As sunne by day , or starres by night . What pitty 't is to hide a face Enricht with such a comely grace ! Thy Haire like Hemlocks carelesse fall , To deck thy amorous eyes with all , As fierie as the evening , where We read the next day will be faire . Thy curious forehead to us shew , Where Ca●buncles in number grow ; But the beauties of thy Nose Would fright a man out of his clothes , To dance a naked round delay , When on th' Tobacco Pipe you play ; And the pale brightnesse of thy lips , Would force the Sunne to an eclipse . Thy cheeks of fat and foggy stuffe , Like th' running Dropsie , swell and puffe : But oh ! the Apples on 'em grow , I think were rotten long agoe . Thy pretious neck and brests display Thy skins antiquity , for they Like a dri'd dunghill , chop and break , Untill thy snowt begins to leak . Thy parched fists defie the Sunne ; For all the malice he hath done , Cann't change thy hyde , nor any stayne Corrupt it , for it 's dy'd in grayne . Thy spacious belly and thy waste , Have grease sufficiently to baste A Heard of Swine , the' have such a store , A Shambles cannot purchase more . Thy Thighes like two Colosses seeme Proportion'd , with thy bodies Teeme , And those which beare thy ponderous Britch , Are mighty Columns full of itch . But some that have thy Hoofes espy'd , With feare the fooles fell downe and dy'd ; Yet all this while I have forgot , Thy Tongue as still as Cannon-shot . All parts of thine I cann't display , The rest unseene , the Devill may . Thou art the Wonder of this age , And wantest nothing , but a Cage . Which thou in time , maist purchase too , If that the Beadle will but doe : Then come and joyne thy Vice with me , Blesse Nature for her Prodigie .

To his Friend upon saying his Mistresse was not faire . WHy do'st thou think my Mistresse is not faire , Because shee is not as most Women are , Unprofitably proud , nor will admit Of scorne , to tart the sweetnesse of her wit ; 'Cause shee in actions ( most irregular To Loves choice Edicts ) will not , Will prefer Above her Reason , nor was ever knowne To boast of Beauty , more than was her owne ; Shee 's not precisely coy , nor yet too free In her bestowing Favours , but to me . She never us'd a Dram of Vicious Art To take mans eye , and afterwards his Heart . Shee needs no Ivory Teeth , no Spanish Red , Or Powders of Inticement : she is sped In Natures Properties ; let it suffice I love her , 'cause she loves not a Disguise . Disdaine did ne're usurp her Ebon Brow , Nor does she tip her language with a Thon In base derision ; her sweet Lenity With her Minds object shares of Purity . Greece glori'd much of Helens beauteous Rayes ; But Troy lamented more at the decayes And ruine follow'd it . Do'st think that I Governe my actions solely by my eye ; Beauty is but a Garment us'd to hide Some imperfection , which if once espi'd Discretion bids us shun ; then 't may appeare . Beauty with V●rtue seldome do's coheare ; But where th' are Relatives , 't is so much rare , That Beauty is Divinely singular , And merits much ; yet let my Mistresse be Black as a Crow , she seemes a Swan to me ; She 's not defam'd , nor curtail'd of that shape Nature bestowes on any , your Court-Ape Is not contented with , and to appeare More excellent , will buy their Painting deare , Which on their cheeks lyes thick , to shew their store Like parched Walls new whiten'd , Oker'd ore . Was not her face I courted , but th' refin'd Inestimable Iewell of her minde . She has within her that which can declare A soule sufficient to create her faire ; And her conditions sweetnesse to each eye Appeares th' Appendix where felicity Doth sit enthron'd ; All these perfections dwells In her alone . Humanity excells , And is so much Divine , her firme faith can Translate to immortality fraile man. Punish thy errors friend , and that I may Assure my selfe th' art penitent , obey . By thy subscribing , that 't is onely shee Imploy'd on earth for our eternity .

A Prologue spoken upon removing of the late Fortune Players to the Bull. WHo would rely on Fortune , when shee 's knowne An enemie to Merit , and hath shewne Such an example here ? Wee that have pay'd Her tribute to our losse , each night defray'd The charge of her attendance , now growne poore , ( Through her expences ) thrusts us out of doore . For some peculiar profit ; shee has t'ane A course to banish Modesty , and retaine More dinn , and incivility than hath been Knowne in the Bearwards Court , the Beargarden . Those that now sojourne with her , bring a noyse Of Rables , Apple-wives and Chimney-boyes , Whose shrill confused Ecchoes loud doe cry , Enlarge your Commons , Wee hate Privacie . Those that have plots to undermine , and strive To blow their Neighbours up , so they may thrive , What censure they deserve , wee leave to you , To whom the judgement on 't belongs as due . Here Gentlemen , our Anchor 's fixt ; And wee ( Disdaining Fortunes mutability ) Expect your kinde acceptance ; then wee 'l sing ( Protected by your smiles our ever-spring ; ) As pleasant as if wee had still possest Our lawfull Portion out of Fortunes brest : Onely wee would request you to forbeare Your wonted custome , banding Tyle , or Peare , Against our curtaines , to allure us forth . I pray take notice these are of more Worth , Pure Naples silk , not Worstead ; we have ne're An Actour here has mouth enough to teare Language by th' eares ; this forlorne Hope shall be By Us refin'd from such grosse injury . And then let your judicious Loves advance Vs to our Merits , them to their Ignorance .

To a Vow-breaker leaving this land . GOe perjur'd Wanton , and invite With thy forg'd Language for a night , The eares of thy new-fangled Mate , Knowledge of thee begets a hate . Goe , and with thee take all the sin Thy Sexes frailty have liv'd in Since Adams fall ; for thou art worse Than Eve , or serpent , Mans chiefe curse . What dire pretence , what fained cause Has made thee violate Loves lawes ; And all those vowes which once to me Thou mad'st , before his Deity . What strange ecclipse is in , thy Youth , Which once did shine as cleare as Truth In her best lustre , to my eye , For it could not thy Faith discry ? Has some new flame possest thy blood , Which will consume , if not withstood , Thy soules chiefe portion , and strive To make thy shame alone survive ? Or did the nicenesse of my love From those immodest Acts which move Perhaps in some , beget in thee A thought of such impiety ? Some sencelesse Wretch that never knew Lusts debts , and th' payments that ensue , T is likely , has to please his sence , Deflour'd thy Beauties excellence . And thou made stupid with his praise , Regardlesse how thy Youth decayes , By thy intemp'rate VVill , dost run A course without Religion : Tend'ring to His unlawfull suit , Each day that blest forbidden fruit , VVhich Heav'n did give thee , and ordain'd Thy Prayers should have kept unstain'd . How are our Beauties happy made , That thou hast left thy Native shade To wander to th' Iberian Coast , VVhere thou may'st of thy falsenesse boast ? Hadst thou continu'd longer here , Some strange infection we might feare ; Our Beauties would have drawne from thee . Thou banisht , they from it are free . Each creature now with fresh desire , May safely warme 'em at Loves sire , And not suspect those flames unjust You us'd , consuming Hearts to dust . Do'st think fond VVoman , by thy flight , To hide thy shame from the quick sight Of thy owne conscience ? it alone Shall be thy Guilts companion : VVhich shall surround thy spotted brest VVith such black thoughts , that if exprest Either by Pen , or else by Breath , VVould fright a timorous Maid to Death . The gentle winds that now appeare , Milde as the breath of Lambs , shall beare Upon their wings in furious rage , Thy Crimes to ev'ry Forraigne Stage . The tatling bushes in the Groves , Shall tell the Story of our Loves : VVhich well observ'd , they 'l all conspire VVith Lightning , and consume with fire . Both thee and thy Familiar , so Unlook'd for my revenge will grow , And thy example will so strike In some , they 'l feare to doe the like . Thou canst not passe by Brook or Spring , But hearing their soft murmuring , Thy conscious soule will guesse that straight It whispers thy unhappy Fate . Goe where thou wilt , and use thy charmes , To circle him within thy armes ; Thou for a time will dote on , then Returne unto thy Fate agen . T is past my Creed , to think that you Now false to me , can long be true To him : for why ? new faces breed New appetites , whereon to feed . Had he each various way to please , And held a surfeit no disease ; Yet that thy custome still may swell , Thou 'lt mix , though with some Infidell . His faith with thine may best agree , There 's such a fatall sympathy In your affections , every part Resembles thine , when heart in heart . Then take my counsell and possesse Some uncouth shaggy Wildernesse . There take Plantation , and be wise ; Both wanting faith , all faith despise . There mingle limbs , and procreate Some Prodigy may ruine Fate ; So keepe those dangers off , which they Intend shall be thy Youths decay , And suddenly will fall on thee , For this thy vilde Apostacie , Which a Nuns penance cannot call Merit , t' purchase Mercie withall . Thy travailing friend when he does finde Thy want of faith , to the next Winde Will beg a whaftage , to be rid Of thee , which sacred lawes forbid Conversing with ; thy sinnes are growne So foule , they needs must be thy owne For perpetuity ; then hee Is mad that stayes to share with thee . When throughly thou hast div'd into Thy owne defects , 't will puzle you To hope forgivenesse , when you see With blushes your deformity , And every spot which will declare Thee black as night , though once as faire As Summers noone-tyde in her pride , Thou wert as neare to Heaven ally'd ; Had'st thou not lost that Essence , which By faith all Women doth enrich , And play'd away at one poore vye Thy soules entire security . Thou which hast so profusely spent Thy Youth , and Beauties Ornament , Canst hope to live , 'till age doth pour , Upon thy head a silver shour ? Or if those hopes may have successe , Thou that hast tasted the excesse Of pleasures , canst thou looke to have More comfort than th' insatiate Grave ? Our present pleasures vade away , But those to come will ne're decay , Reserv'd in Heaven ; be not remisse In seeking ( then ) such future blisse . Farewell , And when that thou hast ta'ne A full survey of what I faine Will follow : For all my wrongs , but teach thy eye To shed a teare ; and so will I.

To a Gentlewoman being fearfull upon the water , by reason of the roughnesse of 't . WHy doe you tremble faire one , why has feare Displanted the best Beauties of the yeare From their warme beds your cheeks ? what ? does the sight Of the rough waves your timorous heart affright , Cause in the conflict with the boysterous winde , You doubt they 'l to your passage be unkinde ? Let not such thoughts invade you ; though the skie Is with th' unruly stood in Mutinity : Yet your firme faith is of sufficient power , To calme the greatest tempest , in an houre , Should they mix elements , and every blast From the contentious North threaten a waste To the distemper'd water , so afflict The Vniverse with terror , wee 'd direct Our motions o're 'em , where our Boat shall play As free as when an East winde guides the way ; Then be more confident of your owne worth , While we as Prodigies admir'd , launch forth . Mistake me not , 't is not a selfe-conceit Of my deserts , kindles in me this heat Of resolute boldnesse , but 't is in you To whom all Attributes of worth are due . Under your blest protection I shall be Fixt as a Rock , that scornes their injury . Doe you observe , as soone as you appeare , How they retreat as glad to see you here , To end their difference , Boreas does retire To use his force t' encrease the Cyclops fire . Now with an amorous breath begins to move The golden tramells of your haire to love , Now mildly steales a kisse ; it 's no sin to say He courts you as his faire Orythia . The waves have smooth'd their wrinckles to , and doe ( Learning by Boreas in what forme to wooe ; ) With smiling aspect , seeke to re-invite You from your feares , to note how they delight To beare your blessed waight , and while they skip For joy , the sunne is playing with your lip , All Rivals in such blisse , the streames dash in , Wantonly kisse your garments , not your skin : That as a thing forbidden , they adore , But dare not touch as warn'd from it before : The' are all officious safely to co●vey Vs to the place we looke for , while sad they Mourne for your absence , each dissolve to teares , So drowne themselves for drowning you with feares .

To his friend , advising him from Love. WHen to my faire Clarinda I gave breath , My expectation was not present death , Her unjust doome on me , nor did I looke For such a change , that had some freedome tooke In her Hyperboles . All that have seene Her Beauty , and my Praises , would have beene My witnesse 'gainst her , how much I deserv'd In her best thoughts , whose studies had preserv'd Her Name unto eternity , had not shee Discover'd her whole sexes infamie By her revolt , that my enforced Pen ( Against its Nature , us'd for sonnets when I call'd her Mine ) did charactize her shame Blacker than Inke could make it ; for the flame My vitalls once possest , when it did know Hers was declining , would not stronger grow : But by degrees extinguisht , else 't would prove Our paines injustice , motives not of Love. Had'st thou but knowne her Will , thou would'st have said Shee was a pretty , handsome , well-fac'd Maid , Though not endu'd with those perfections I Did boast of to the World ; Poets may lye As well as seeming Prophets , for w●at shee Enjoy'd 'bove Natures bounty , sh 'ad from mee , My lines at first did pollish every l●mb ; But pencilling her heart , my eyes grew dim ; Both Pen and Fancie fail'd me , I gave o're , Finding her heart stain'd with the leaprous sore Of base deceipt , and left her with that poore Implicite Beauty which shee had , before My verse had nourisht it ; what cans't expect For all thy service , more than such neglect ? Should'st thou make ev'ry line swell with conceit , And sing her praises in each Epithite ; Yet thy reward at last will be like m●ne . Oh friend ! all vvomens Fancies doe decline With houres and minutes , and the greatest blisse Poore Man can hope for , is but in a kisse The shadow of content , which having got , It fires his soule , and yet it pleaseth not . Why should wee make an Idol of a face Of the same mould as ours , and add a grace To 't by our Homages ; so enthrall our eye , When Heaven and Nature gives it liberty . What though the strange Ideas of our minde , Transforme our thoughts to every shape and kinde : That wee approve that best that 's worst of evils , Hold Women Saints , cause some are glorious devils ? Shall wee persist , committing sacriledge 'Gainst Heaven and goodnesse , give them priviledge 'Bove mother Nature , make that hand 'cause white A miracle : that eye 'cause cleare and bright . The Deity I worship , so prophane Heavens purity and leave a lasting staine On our discretion , make a foolish toy , A Puppet to be plaid with , our chiefe joy And best of hopes , loosing all the pride Rests in true manhood , and our youth beside , For one , fram'd our inferiour , the weake thing Of peevish woman , which in mentioning Declares their first creation , and from whence They doe derive ( forsooth ) their Excellence ? What pleasure is' t to dally with the Fan Of thy fine Mistresse , or be lesse a man , And kisse her Glove , gaine from her eyes a glance , That may thy easie heart a while entrance , Fett'ring with golden hopes thy giddy youth , Hanging Dispaire upon the heeles of Truth ? Their Loves are like ones breath on purest steele , No sooner on , but off , they never feele Nor understand affection ; what we call Beautie 's a thing most prejudiciall To our humanity , how e're it seeme , A pretious object in our eyes esteeme , Wee gaze on it as th' Porcupine on th' starres , 'Till Ruine overtakes us in the Warres . We hold with our owne errors , and should wee Enjoy this new set up Idolatry , Our States were yet uncertaine , for they still Would have some fetch to satiate their will. They are infirme in loyalty , and bee Like th' golden Apples hanging on the tree O're Tantalus , which if but toucht , will fall Straight into ashes , so that little All Of good in Women is compounded so ; The least breath of temptation they 'l yeeld to . There is so many sleights us'd by vilde Woman , That th' custome ( like themselves ) is now grown common . They can instruct their eyes to weepe , when they Like Crocadiles are readiest to betray Our lives to eminent danger ; they doe make Love 〈◊〉 knots of ●ushes , which in twisting breake . The sweets they give us , treacherously assumes , To stifle up our sences with Perfumes . If we from Gall can extract Honey , then Sin may produce such Vertues . Simple men Aptly may credit : but beleeve me Friend , Those that are bad , their Mischeifes have no end . They are to theire affections so unjust , They banish chast Love to comply with Lust. I have bin long a Scholler in Loves Schoole , Experience made me a Proficient foole , I know the desperate effects ensue This apish love , and would advertise you ( As one that friendship and your knowing merit Has fasten'd in a cordiall tye ; ) inherit ( Deare Sir ) that blessed freedome , which the name Of Worth in Man can challenge , temper th' flame You have receiv'd : let not your female creature ( Knowes how to work upon so good a Nature , ) Take you up wholly , so your friends to be Depriv'd of what they love ; Your company Which they hold pretious to ' em . Gentle Sir Let not your course runne so irregular : But limit so your passion , that we may , Despight of Love or Venus , have a day , Or two , or three to consecrate to mirth , And give our hopes in you a second birth . You that are one that shares in all the parts Of Natures blessings , and sublimist Arts , You that know all , that Man should know , is good , As worthy in your actions , as by blood Of your prime Ancestors , you that justly can Instruct in knowledge the illitterate Man By exact rule ; be so much now your selfe , And let your judgement banish th' scurvy Elfe , Your too much doting Love , a thing that none But fooles and mad-men will be seene to owne : Dotage is incident to yeares fourescore ; But you as yet have not seene twenty foure : It dulls the sence , and stupifies the wit , And to reside with them it is most fit . I know thy wit 's as active as the fire , And subtill as the ayre . Kill that desire Would list thee 'mongst such Idiots . I know A nobler way than that for thee . Then goe Unto thy Study , see how ruinate It 's growne , and through thy absence desolate . See how thy Bookes lye speechlesse , how they mourne ( Like true observants ) till thy sweet returne . And see what Randevous the Mo●thes have made ; Here lyes a member of an Iliade , Compacted once , was Homers : Now it lyes Unto their spoile an humble Sacrifice . Correct these faults my friend , and thou shalt see , That childish Love 's not worth thy Librarie . But I have div'd too deepe , and may suspect ( Your Temper being mov'd ) you will correct Me as the rest , taking on me a task Which may be doubtfull to you ; yet I 'le ask No mercie from you ; what I 've done , 't is fit You should conceive was zeale , so tender it .

To the truly vertuous and his much honoured Lady , the Lady Iane S. an Ode . YOu , that are shee Which every Woman ought to be , The glory of our age ; Whose sweet demeanour shewes Where Love and Vertue flowes , Where Beauty and Delight doth dwell , Wee cannot finde your Parallell In all this Terren stage . You that are shee Whose youth is from corruption free , My Fancie dare uphold . Were there more such as you , To noble Actions true , Men need not feare to say they did Possesse some heavenly treasure , hid E're since the age of gold . You that are shee Compos'd of Natures Rarity . Cherries in Winter grow Upon your lips , which tell How much you doe excell The Summers pride : but on your brest The Phoenix builds her spicie nest , Without dissolving snow . You that are shee , The top branch of that glorious tree , for Pious acts renown'd , Departed hence , but are Each of them fixt a starre In Heavens bright firmament , while you Inherit here as your just due Honour with Vertue crown'd . You that are shee , Distinguish can formality From needlesse pride ; when wee Seeke for some beauteous face , Adorn'd with modest Grace . A Lady that 's so well enclinde . Shee beares a Seraphinian minde ; Whose sacred Meditations to us shew , Shee 's mark't a Saint , wee need not farther goe , For you are onely shee .

To the right Worshipfull Sir I. B. K. upon encouraging him in Poetry . MY Muse as cold as clay , from your quick Rayes Promethean like grew Masculine , her Bayes Receiv'd a freshnesse , your AEtheriall fire Ranne through her faculties 'till her desire Met with my wishes jointly to begin Our votes to you ; yet stay ; it were a sin Should shee omit your Lady , and your Race , The perfect figures of the sum of Grace . And honour'd Sir , to you , whose powerfull name Merits above the Donatives of ●ame : You that are great in goodnesse , whose blest Fate Makes you a Pillar of this Brittish state : May you be free from sorrow , free from care , That may disturb your quiet , to declare You onely mortall . May you live to see A Nestors age in blest felicity . May you continue ever in that seat Your merits , and not Fortune , have made great . May you enjoy your wishes full content , To crowne your latter dayes till they are spent . May you embrace a Fathers comfort , by Your children in succesfull Progenie , May they in it be happy , and may health Purchase the keeping you , and your just wealth From others deprivation , may Encrease For ever crowne the Harvest of your peace .

A Sigh . POst happy sigh upon the wings Of some blest Cherubin , that sings Continuall Anthems in the Quire Of Heaven , there finish thy desire . Thou wert not borne for the poore use Of Mistresse , but my sinnes abuse ; And 't is not fit thou should'st endure A mixture with this ayre impure ; Thou drew'st thy breath from me , and art The issue of a contrite heart . As Mothers , e're their time be runne , With anguish bring a breathlesse sonne Into the world ; so I did thee , With griefe and unfain'd misery . Th' art of as little use , unlesse Thy Innocence can winne accesse To enter heavens eares ; wee need Some Cherubin to intercede For us ; expence wee need not feare , Bribes have no power to enter there : Or if thou doubt'st ( because but one ) Thou canst not well expresse a groane , Nor justly plead for mercie , I Will send thee Legions more , shall buy My soule from death , When all agree To fill the heavens with Harmony .

To his friend J. W. a Meditation . DId wee consider rightly what a store Of imperfections waites to ruine man From 's infancie to 's grave ; Vice makes a sore Upon his soule incurable , that can Precipitate his glories to th' Abysse , Once banisht from the Paradise of Blisse . His first breath is a cry , His last a groane ; Yet happy in that groane , if hee dy'd well , Angels shall wait his soule 's ascension , none Of Vertues instruments but shall excell In joy each other , that mans penitence Has brought him to that place of excellence . Th' unbridled Youth giving his folly raines , Disclaimes all councell that his errors show , Untill a second mischiefe binds in chaines The giddy Colt , and then he findes his woe . All that his Parents left him once consum'd , He will appeare a Peacock , but unplum'd .

LOVE CROWNES THE END .

A PASTORALL PRESENTED BY THE SCHOLLEES OF BINGHAM in the County of Notingham , in the yeare 1632.

Written by Io. Tatham Gent.

LONDON : Printed by I. N. for RICHARD BEST , and are to be sold at his Shop neere Grayes-Inne-gate in Holborne . 1640.

The Prologue . YOu starres of Honour , brighter than the day , Or new rais'd Phoebus in his morning Ray ; A● rich in Wisedome as in Vertues rare ; Accept the choicest dish our wits prepare , As a third course to please your eye , which still Covets to have of novelties its fill . We have not bundled up some Kickshawes here To bid you welcome ; Wee doe hate such geere . Our braine 's the Kitchin , and our wit 's the meat , Preparitive to which , wee bid you eat , If lik't , if not refrain't ; you Judges sit To damne or save our not yet ripen'd wit : So rest upon your goodnesse ; if you frowne , Our poore endeavours then are troden downe .

Love crownes the end . A Grove discover'd , and in an obscure corner thereof Cliton as being a sleepe . To him Alexis . ALEXIS . HOW still the morning is , as if it meant To steale upon us without Times consent , And pry into our errors . I have beene Searching in every Thicket , Wood , and Greene To finde my Lamb , and many dolefull cryes Enter'd my eares e're day . What 's this that lyes In such an obscure place , where none scarce tread , Unlesse the Ghosts of the disturbed dead ? Blesse me great Pan , I see it 's Clitons face With a sword drawne ; how happy was my chace This way ! I hope his folly has not made Himselfe a Beast , as butcher'd with this Blade ; 'T may be he sleepes : I 'le speake to him , and try ; Yet I halfe doubt him 'cause he here doth lye . Cliton , awake , the Night's dislodg'd , and now Bright Morne is trimming of her Virgin brow , To court the Sunne , when from the Westerne deepe And Thetis lap his glimmering beames doe peepe T' ascend his glorious Carre . Cliton — awake , And with thy sleepe all dreames of horror shake That may affright thee . CLITON . Kinde Alexis , thanks , How found you me ? ALEXIS . Walking those flowry banks , 'Twixt the greene valley , and the place which wee Have consecrated to Loves Deity : Seeking a stray'd Lamb , I did heare sad moanes Proceed from some like peales of parting groanes , Which I pursu'd , but in my search I found None but your selfe : you resting on this ground I wonder'd much to see you ! CLITON . So you might . But when y 'ave heard the cause on 't , 't will affright Your easie brest . Doe you observe this Hand , This fatall Hand , at my unjust command Did : — Oh , I could destroy 't ! ALEXIS .

For what offence ?

CLITON . This hand has spilt the blood of Innocence , My Florida's . ALEXIS .

How ?

CLITON . And when I 'd done ( As I might well ) did hide me from the Sunne , Fearing his eye would be the onely cause To finde me out ; and here from men and lawes I have obscur'd my selfe , and could not say 'T was justly night , when night : Nor day when day ; My fact had sulled both . ALEXIS .

What urg'd thee to such inhumanity ?

CLITON . Onely suspition of her loyalty , Dreaming Lysander had enjoy'd her love , My jealousie to cruelty did move : I slew her three dayes since , and since have bin Each night at that place I stain'd with my sin , To seeke the body , but some sacred Power , For none else durst approach her purity , Has certainly made her immortall , and Convey'd the body to some holier land . ALEXIS .

Is the body gone then ?

CLITON .

Or else my eyes doe faile me as an ▪ abject not worth their help .

ALEXIS . Thy crime requires contrition ; to that end , Thou shalt with me . Thy dayes to come shalt spend In holy uses ; I 'le prepare for thee , In the best forme I can , each property Belonging to a pensive man. You must Forget all youthfull pleasures , think on dust , And penitence the onely meanes to bring Thy soule to rest after this wandering . Will you with me ? CLITON .

To death , or otherwise , since Florida is dead . Exeunt .

Cloe pursu'd by a lustfull sheepheard . Lustfull Sheepheard . ●tay my darling , doe not flye , This place is private , here 's none nigh . Feare not Wench , I 'le doe no harme , But embrace thee in my arme ; Cull and kisse , and doe the thing Shepheards doe at wrasteling , CLOE . Oh help , if any Shepheards , neere , Heare my laments . Lust. Shepheard . Yet creature , doe not feare : But if you with coy disdaine , Doe think to leave me in my flame , I 'le force those golden locks of thine To lye beneath these feet of mine ; Then yeeld and here enjoy such sweet As with our embraces meet . CLOE .

Oh haplesse Maid , no ayde will come . Lysander steps forth .

LYSANDER . Feare not Virgin ; here is some Natures monster ; Villaine , why Does thy flame now burne so high ? Will no other serve thy turne To quench the heats that in thee burne , But so faire a soule as shee ? Villaine hence , or else I 'le bee Lustfull shep. gazeth on him , then runnes in . Thy Butcher . CLOE . Kinde Youth , to whom am I Bound for this faire courtesie ? LYSANDER . First unto Heaven faire Creature ; next to me A poore unworthy Shepheard . CLOE . May your Sweetest whom you love , Ever constant to you prove . Be shee brighter than the Sunne , Pleasing as our day at noone ; Fresher than the morning dew : Sweeter than a new kill'd Ewe ; Like Aurora deckt with flowers , Or the welcome Aprill showers . May shee love you , and you be The mirrour for true Constancie ; Goe gentle Youth , and this day prosperous be Amongst our Swaines in your Activity . Exit . LYSANDER . A thousand thanks reward you Pan be my guide , and thou faire Gloriana , Whose beauty has encinder'd my poore heart Almost to nothing this day ; thou shalt finde Thou hast a power above our humane kinde . DAPHNES . Exit . Bright sunne , why do'st thou shine on me ? Is it to mock me ? keepe thy light ; for I Had rather live in darknesse , and so dye . Or do'st thou shew thy lustre in disdaine , Because I have so oft with speech prophane Blasphem'd against thy goodnesse , And in praise Of a poore earthly creature spent my dayes ? Do'st thou yet smile ? forgive me , and I 'le bee No more her servant , but will honour thee . Keepe thou thy brightnesse Phoebus , and this day From all our Swaines I 'le bring the prize away . Exit . Leon , Gloriana , and Francisco . FRANCISCO . Fairest , this day , be pleas'd to smile on me , And let those hidden favours yet unshewne , Flow in abundance , that Swaines may see None e're can conquer me , but you alone . GLORIANA . My favours friend is past , and you have tasted So much of my poore bounty , that it 's wasted . LEON . We stay too long sonne , pray make haste , Let us not spend time in waste . Daughter , you shall goe with mee , Where their pastime wee may see . Heark , I heare 'em make a noyse ; A noyse within . Oh my hearts my bonny boyes , Play your parts ; when I was young I was full as stout and strong . FRAN. Dearest , I must part ; this calls me hence . Father , I leave you . Exit Fra : GLORIANA . For ever I hope , would I could prophesie , And be effectuall ; it should be so . LEON . Daughter , this way let us high ; I am old , I 'le not come nigh : Nor shalt thou my dapper Girle , Lest those staves that often whirle Hit thy face . What againe ! A●w● againe . Nay then I feare wee goe in vaine . GLORIANA . Yet Father let us goe , that w● May know who gain'd the victory . Exeunt . The lustfull sheeph●●rd like a Satyre . Because Dame Nature , pox of all her tricks , Has not dealt so well with me as shee ought , Making me but a lump of rough-hew'n stuffe , The pettish Wenches will not play with me , Nor tick nor toy , and cause I 'm apt for sport : How e're I 'm form'd , I 've put on this disguise , To fright the baggages , when getting some 'Twixt these my armes , ●'le force 'em to my will , Yet passe unknowne . Thus I my sences fill . Scrub within . So ho , so ho , so ho. What noyse is yon ? SCRVB.

Through the Woods , and through the Woods have I run after the Run-away my Master . — What art thou in the devils name ?

Lust. shepheard . Sirrah , I am — SCRVB.

A devil , I knew 't before : Thou should'st be a leacherous devill by thy hayrie hide : but I am no Succubus goodman devill .

Lust. shepheard

Do'st thou feare me ?

SCRVB.

Oh Lord , me Sir. I have met such another devill as thou art , in my Porridge dish .

Lust. shepheard .

And didst thou know him ?

SCRVB.

Know him ? how doe you meane know him ? I should be loth to know him or thee , or hee thee , or thy grand-Master me for any ill ; for I have defi'd the devill and his works ever since the generall Earthquake , and that my Mothers Cat miscarried in the horse Pond .

Lust. shepheard .

Was thy Mother a Witch ?

SCRVB. Offers to strike .

How a Witch you devill — I 'le witch you .

Lust. shepheard .

Hold man : shee was an honest woman .

SCRVB. Nay , now thou ly'st , and thou be'st the devils devill : For I have heard her soberly say , shee had six — Bastards by a Sowgelder before shee pigg'd me . Lust. shepheard . Offers again .

Hold , hold man.

SCRVB.

The devill afraid of blowes ! I 'le make you spet fire .

Runnes after him . A great sh●wt . Lysander with a Garland on 's head , and scarfes on 's armes , Cloe following him . CLOE . Friendly Swaine , the day is yours ; you see My prayer it seemes succesfull was to thee . Pitty my mayden teares ; till now , I ne're Su'd to a shepheard , but the shepheards were My suiters . Nor deeme me light ▪ because my love is such ; I love indeed , and feare I love too much . You sav'd my life , my chastity , what more ? Take me as one that was your owne before . LYSANDER . How much I grieve faire Shepheardesse , my Fa●● Will not allow me such a just proportion , To render thee , as thy deserts have merited From me . CLOE . Oh friend ! I●le be your servant , and your flocks will keepe . I 'le nightly watch while you doe sweetly sleepe ▪ And in the morne I 'le willingly to field , While you doe taste the sweets Loves valleyes yeeld , And with industrious labour against noone , Will get your dinner ready , so you will But smile on me , and say well done . LYSANDER . To starve your hopes from furder prosecution in this suit . Know I 've already fixt my resolution To love none but faire Gloriana , shee Is the Commandresse of my life , and fortunes : So much I pitty you , that I could wish I had two hearts , that you might share in one As a just recompence for your love , but why do I Entertaine such frivolous unnecessary talk . May you live happy , and enjoy as rare , And constant Shepheard as your selfe is faire . Exit . CLOE . Is my face wither'd ? or has Nature so Deform'd me lately that I am not Cloe ? For thee poore Cloe Shepheards have pitcht the Barre , Wrastl'd , and leap'd , and showne the feats of Warre . For thee each strove to gaine thee as his Dove ; But thou did'st sleight and scorne their simple love . How many Verses have the Shepheards made , In praising of thy Beauty , whil'st thou laid Thy heart on him that hates to heare thee nam'd , And thy delight is still to have him fam'd ? How many Rings and Gloves hast thou receiv'd From the poore Swaines thou often times deceiv'd ? For thee on Holy dayes they often would Meet on the Heath next to the Pinders fold , Where they with Musick , and such sweet content , Would spend their time to make thee merriment . Since then my love is not one mite rewarded , And that my Beauty is no more regarded : I 'le teare these golden locks , that shepheards may Leave off their sport , and make no Holy-day . SINGS . I will follow through yon Grove , Where I soone shall meet my Love ; Then with sweet embraces wee Will clip , and cull , and none shall see . A willow Garland I will make , And sweetly weare it for his sake . Then through Thickets , Woods , and Plaines , I will hide me from the Swaines ? Hy da , hy da , what art thou ? As she is running in , meetes her . DAPHNES .

You were not wont to question that ; how fares my dearest Love ?

CLOE . Hence thou coward , hence from me : Blush at thy disloyal●y . Did'st not tell me thou would'st gaine Me reputation by thy fame ; And suffer'st now a stranger beare The prize , and thou to have no share ? DAPHNE . Your frownes my Fairest , and not hee , Gain'd from me the victory . Had you smil'd as you did frowne , All his strength I 'd mauger'd downe . What has disturb'd my Love ? who has committed This injurie to thy person ? CLOE . Ha , ha , ha ; foole , foole ! see you now foole ? Foole ! kisse — kisse — kisse — Exit . DAPHNES .

What fickle things are women ? yet they are such men cannot be without ; our too much doting on 'em makes 'em proud ; for loving them , they 'd make us hate our selves . I doe suspect this bad distemper in her proceeds from some deniall Lysander has given her to her unlawfull suit , knowing my love to her . 'T is so . I must not let her suffer in too high a nature . Exit .

A place discover'd all greene mirtles , adorn'd with Roses , a Title written over 't thus . LOVERS VALLEY . Lysander and Gloriana . LYSANDER . Dearest Love , faire as the Easterne morne , When with her Summers roabe shee decks the Plaines , And hangs on every bush a liquid pearle , In Mayes triumphing moneth ▪ sweet as the ayre , The Phoenix does expire in , sit while I play The cunning Thiefe , and steale thy heart away , And thou shalt stand as Judge to censure me , To recompence thy losse I must agree ; To give my heart , which being understood , 'T is but exchange , I keepe your heart , you mine . GLORIANA . Content my Love thus , shee would court thee , And thus and thus shee 'd play a Wantons part : Doe I not blush Adonis . Kisse him . LYSANDER . Oh , you must not blush ! you spoile the jest on 't , I 'le span thy Waste , and doe as Wantons use ; I 'le be Adonis , but will not refuse . GLORIANA .

Nay fie , you stray beyond your limits .

LYSANDER . Kisse .

Modesty allowes such undefiled mixtures .

To them FRANCISCO .

Ah! where are my eyes ? what curst unruly windes Have blowne 'em out , and in their stead plac'd these base counterfaits ! Oh you Deities ? you are unjust to suffer this ? If these eyes be my owne may they be blasted , that without my Lycence Durst see this object : but yet let reason Sway my passion . Why doe I wish a mischiefe on my selfe That must see their destruction ? I have long Suspected him by reason of her Necios , And the continuall scorne dwelt on her brow When I did proffer love , were I provided I 'd rush upon 'em , and from his base armes Snatch the false Girle , but I 'le stand secure A while and over-heare ' em .

GLORIANA . 'T is time to part , w 'ave dally'd Time too long . Lysander , will you walk ? LYSANDER . Thinks Gloriana That Time is lost that 's spent with her Lysander FRANCISCO . Deluding devill GLORIANA . I could Lysander . ( Might it not staine my Mayden-yeares ) live onely By gazing on thy Beauty . LYSANDER . Nay , now you mock me ; but I hope e're long Wee shall with more security enjoy What our hearts wish for . Where shall wee next meet ? GLORIANA .

In this very place to morrow be sure you meet .

LYSANDER . Exeunt . I will not faile . FRANCISCO . Nor I to meet you both . Oh my best starres ! How I shall weave my selfe into revenge just , just Gods y 'ave stampt my braine for mischiefe ▪ which on them I 'le execute . And none shall pry into my faults within . Revenge has Coverts , fit to hide his sin . Exit . CLOE mad . SINGS . Hey downe a downe derry , And shall not wee be merry ? A fire on thy hole , 'T is as black as a cole , And thy nose is as browne as a berry . Hi ho. What a thing this love is ? When Love did act a womans part , Shee sings . Shee could have dy'd with all her heart , It swell'd her so in every part ; Shee swore 't was winde , and then did — Hi , hi , hi , hi , Nymphes to her Sing about her . Love cannot chuse but pitty yeeld , He never liv'd in tented field , 'Mongst iron hearted men , He knowes both how , and when Thee to restore To what thou wert before . He has a tender brest , which knowes Your wants by the tormenting woes He 's subject to himselfe . Then doe not you despaire , That are both young and faire . Thus wee convay you hence . CLOE . Takes Cloe with ' em .

Where doe you leade mee ? Exeunt .

Lysander and Gloriana . LYSANDER . How blest are wee , that Fortune hath So much befriended us in this happy ? Convenient opportunity ? GLORIANA . 'T is an unaccustom'd favour , And we ought in duty to acknowledge A thankfulnesse for it . LYSANDER . Shee sits downe . So sits the pride of Nature to out-vye Each glorious Beauty of the chequer'd field , And Flora's richest Wardrobe . GLORIANA . I perceive Y 'ave practis'd long in th' flattering Rules of love . What wil reward you ? LYSANDER . A kisse is more than I can merit . Will you sing . GLORIANA .

And you 'l give me another for my paines .

LYSANDER . Put it to the tryall , You shall not loose your labour . SONG . GLORIANA . Sit while I doe gather flowers , And depopulate the Bowers . Here 's a kisse will come to thee ; Lysander . Give me one , I 'le give thee three . BOTH . Thus in harmlesse sport wee may , Passe all idle houres away . GLORIANA . Hark , hark how fine The Birds doe chime , And pretty Philomel Her moane doth tell . BOTH . Then pitty , pitty love , and all is well . GLORIANA . Here 's the Violet , Pink , and Rose , The sweetest breathings for the nose . LYSANDER . Yet thy breath to me doth yeeld More fragrant sents than all the field . GLORIANA . Love cares not for flowers or toyes , Play games for your apish Boyes . Nor superstition For his condition Is for to know Lysander

— if you love or no ?

GLORIANA . Then answer , love I or no. But yet me thinks that face should be The Modell of true constancie : Therefore no reason have I , To suspect thy loyalty , Here 's another kisse for thee . LYSANDER . Give me one , I 'le give thee three . BOTH . Thus in harmlesse sport wee may , Passe all idle houres away . GLORIANA . Hark , hark how fine The Birds doe chime , And pretty Philomel , Her moane doth tell ▪ BOTH . Then pitty , pitty Love , and all is well . LYSANDER . Y 'ave sung me most a sleepe , my eyes are dull and heavy , Faith I must make thy lap my pillow . GLORIANA . Repose thy gentle head on 't . Alas ! I 'm heavy too , and must obey my destinie . Sleepe . The Destinies . SING . Sleepe on , sleepe on , For wee have so decreed , That thou must bleed : Sleepe on , sleepe on , And maist thou never rise , For blood the shepheard cryes . Sleepe on , sleepe on . Exeunt . A heavenly messenger in white .

SONG . Rise , rise Lysander to prevent What the Destinies decreed . Thou art constant , permanent , And must not bleed ▪ Thy constant seed Shall be the shepheards joy , No annoy Shall attend Such a friend As the Lasses need . Rise , rise , awake ! And sleepe off shake ; The Heavens are pleas'd thy part to take , For thy Love's sake . Exit :

GLORIANA . They stirre . Lysander , where ar't ? Lord how my fancie 's troubled ! LYSANDER . How fares my Gloriana ? I have had Strange thoughts that would have dispossest Me of my rest , had I not tooke it here On your sacred lap . Francisco disguis'd with others ▪ FRANCISCO . That is the man : upon him instantly While I attach his Mistresse . GLORIANA .

Ah me Lysander , what meanes these sad spectacles ▪

1. VILLANE .

Wee must have life and death .

GLORIANA .

Both life and death : how can that be ?

FRAN.

Thy life , and thy Lysanders death .

GLORIANA . I 've heard that voyce e're now Afford more milder language . FRAN. Stop her mouth lest shee does charme me Unto pitty . LYSANDER .

Are you but men , and dare doe this ?

GLORIANA .

Oh spare Lysander , sheath your swords in me .

FRAN.

Wee 'l not expostulate : take that .

2. VILLANE .

And that .

GLORIANA . They take her with them . Oh Lysander ! Stay , stay , let me but breath my last Upon her lips , and I 'le forgive this Butchery . Cowards , Villaines , Miscreants , have you left me ? But oh my fairest , whether art thou fled ? Feare has made pale those cheekes that were so red . I 'le follow thee : they shall not dare to touch The least hem of thy garments . But oh , I faint ; And must surrender up to earth that part I tooke from her . Gloriana , oh Gloriana ! Claudia and Florida . CLAVDIA . Wee may for recreation walk , And use some pretty harmlesse talk . Religion does not tye us to A stricter course than wee can doe . FLORIDA . T is dangerous walking , every field Doth nought but sounds of horror yeeld , And to my fancie doth appeare Poore slaughter'd Maids ; the Butchers beare The name of Lovers , and can finde A way in killing to be kinde . Lysander . Oh! Ah me , whence came that groane ? CLAUDIA .

It is a Shepheard wounded sore .

FLORIDA . Sure I 've seene this face before ! Oh 't is Lysander th' truest Swaine , That ever breath'd on Grove or Plaine . CLAUDIA .

What , is hee mark'd for present death ?

FLORIDA . No , there is hopes of life : his breath I feele come coldly . Take him with ' em . CLAUDIA . Help him in . Pan be just , reward this sin . SCRUB .

The devill and his dam I think have carri'd away my Master ; I cannot finde him in never a Wenches placuit , ( pocket I should say ) and yet I have beene in a simple many since I came among these Mutton-Mongers , these sheepe-eaters , unlesse they have hid him amongst their wooll , I cannot imagine where hee should be I will weare my shooes to peeces but I 'le finde him . Exit .

Lysander , Claudia , Florida , and Cloe. LYSANDER . Religious Matron , from your divine hand I have receiv'd my life next to heavens providence : Sure my wounds were not desperate , or else Some Angell did afford a soveraigne Balsome To cure 'em in such an instant : but howsoever , I must ascribe it to your pious care : For which I owe you more than I can pay , Unlesse it be my life . CLAUDIA . The Surgery I use is sent from Heaven , And you owe them your life , not me . LYSANDER . But Florida , Did you ne're heare of your Cliton since ? FLORIDA . Never . Yet I would gladly see him , did I know By what meanes to atchieve it ? CLOE . Deare friend , the stories of us both if weigh'd In an equall ballance , would poize each other Yet to put her love to the Test , I 'le undertake your message . LYSANDER .

Thou wilt endeare me to thee then , about it .

FLORIDA . Exit Cloe.

You heard how Cloe came to our happy Cure.

LYSANDER .

Never .

FLORIDA . The Wood Nymphes brought her to our Cell , finding Her stray'd where ever since sh 'as bin . LYSANDER . If you will with mee , I 'le promise you , you shall see your Cliton : FLORIDA .

On those conditions I will.

CLAVDIA .

Whether now ?

FLORIDA .

No farther than with your consent , and if you please , yo● may goe with us .

Clau.

I am contented . Exeunt .

Gloriana distracted . SINGS . I know Lysander's dead , Then farewell maydenhead ; Thou art but one : When I am gone : It never shall be said — hy ho , ho. Oh Lysander . CLITON like a Hermit . Save you faire Maid , I wish you joy , Free from ought that may annoy Your quiet , or disturb your sence ; Send you health and penitence . GLORIANA .

Ha , ha , ha , what , are you Lysander ? what , with that beard there 's a great beard indeed : heark you Fryer Tuck , doe you see you handsome shepheard Lysander ?

Why did you say he was dead ? CLITON . You are mistaken , I 'm a Hermit that can cure All wounds , but what sinne makes impure ; And those are cur'd by one above : I can help those ills that move Man to distraction , jealous feares , In man or woman . I have yeares Has gain'd experience to apply For all sorts a safe remedy . GLORIANA . SINGS . Doe you see where he doth stand , With a Crosse-Bow in his hand . I will follow thee my Deare , Though the Goblins keepeth there . CLITON . Offers to goe in .

Stay pure Mayd .

GLORIANA . Why doe you hold me old man ? insooth you shall not . CLITON . ●f you will be rul'd by mee , You shall your Lysander see . GLORIANA . ●hall I indeed now ? CLITON . Come with me and you shall know More , if you will but patient grow . Exeunt . Leonand Alexis .

Good Father , be patient .

LEON . 〈◊〉 not my daughter lost , my onely daughter , ●he onely staffe whereon my age did rest , And onely comfort which I had on earth ? Oh! I am miserable . Leon and Alexis .

●here's hopes yet left to finde her .

LEON . ●ever . Some rude and savage hand has kill'd my Girle , ●aving deflowr'd her of her virgin honour . Talk not of patience , 't is the onely meanes To cure a bad distemper , to grow worse , And fire it out of him . Oh my Alexis ! ALEXIS . I 'm lost in loosing her . Let us endeavour to finde her , LEON . I 'le take thy counsell , goodnesse guide me still , Sometimes are Parents crosse against their will. Exeunt . Lysander . Claudia . Florida . LYSANDER . W' are almost at his Cell , where hee do's waste Himselfe away with griefe , thinking you are A Citizen in Heaven , and that wrong He did you , has so defil'd his soule , It cannot be purg'd off but by such penitence . FLORIDA . Y 'ave mov'd my heart that it dissolves to teares , Of blood , and water , for the strictnesse hee Has undergone for mee . Enter Cloe and Daphnes . CLOE . I 'm glad I 've found you ; doe you see w' are coupl'd as Lovers ought to doe : but your Gloriana is lost beyond Recovery . LYSANDER .

How ?

DAPHNES . Shee hearing of your death fell frantick , and Since I have not seene her ne're our Groves . LYSANDER Let us put wings to our pursuit to finde her ; And first wee 'l search his Cell . CLAVDIA .

Great Pan send all things well . Exeunt .

FRANCISCO . Oh Conscience , how thou do'st buz into my eares ; despaire The thing attends my guilt , Gloriana lost : For whose sweet sake I heap't new sinnes upon me ? What has my fury purchas'd nothing ? Yes !

Hell , and destruction , which onely by a haire hangs o're my head , which blowne by the least winde , falls downe and sinks me .

SCRVB.

You sirrah , madcap , that creepes like a Crab there : Hark you , doe not you know one Francisco and Pisander , two vagabonds , that cannot live in peace with Poultry , but they must flye after sheepe ?

FRANCISCO .

I owe that wretched name Francisco .

SCRUB .

Who ? you with that face ! pray where 's Pisander then ?

FRANC.

I left him at the Court when I came thence .

SCRUB .

I see you shepheards will lye abominably , hee has beene from the Court ever since seven yeares before hee was borne .

Lysander . Leon. Gloriana . Claud. Florida . Cloe. Cliton . Daphnes . Alexis . LYSANDER .

Friends , wee are happy made , Fortune and Love reserv'd these blisses to crowne the end of things .

CLITON . The story you related Florida . How this divine Matron did take your body , Finding it warme , and did apply such Balsames As hath preserv'd your life , makes me most happy . LYSANDER .

I 'm blest in my Gloriana .

DAPHNES .

I in my Cloe.

CLITON . And I in Florida . Leon , Alexis , Claudia , and Florida . And wee to see you possesse such blisse . FRAN.

Ah! Protect me some blest power : keepe farther off . I am yet reconcil'd with heaven . I doe confesse I kill'd you ! Oh be mercifull for their sweet sakes , whose innocence cannot see , or be disturb'd by thee . There they are by thee ; thy once deare Gloriana .

LYSANDER .

What a distemper 's this ?

FRANCISCO .

What will appease thy Ghost ? give me but time to aske forgivenesse of those sacred powers I 've most offended , by depriving thee of life and being , and thou shalt have my life for thy just sacrifice .

LYSANDER .

I apprehend his guilt : shepheard , feare not ; your hate grew not to such desperate effects as you expected . Feele , I live and breath !

FRAN.

Delude me not , 't is impossible .

LYSANDER .

These shall witnesse it .

OMNES.

Wee doe .

FRAN.

Can you forgive then my attempt ?

LYSANDER .

With a true heart .

OMNES.

Lysander's still himselfe , noble and wise .

FRANCISCO .

And can you Fairest wipe that Ignominy off , I deserv'd from you ?

GLORIANA .

My Lysanders word sufficeth for us both .

FRAN. Then may you both live happy many yeares : May your joyes , never be disturb'd by feares . SCRUB .

Heark you sir , now all your talk is over , I would know one thing of you ?

LYSANDER .

And what 's that ?

SCRUB .

Have you met with one Pisander , Leon , and Francisco in your Travailes ?

The Duke is dead that banisht good old Leon , and could I finde him ; his lands shall be restor'd .

LEON .

I am that Leon that with my sonne and daughter here have liv'd e're since in this Rurall way .

OMNES.

Blessings doe follow blessings .

LYSANDER .

Then I am that Pisander that left the Court , to gaine thy Daughters love by the name of Lysander . Scrub , do'st thou know me now ?

SCRVB.

A pestlence on 't , you are hee indeed .

FRAN.

Pisander , embrace thy friend Francisco .

LYSANDER .

Francisco ! thou cloy'st me with joy . Embrace .

FRAN.

I left the Court for the same end you did .

LYSANDER .

Shee 's mine now Sir , is shee not ?

LEON . As fast as th' Priest can make her , Fortune has made all happy : Yet 't is fit If they will wed , your hands should licence it .

Amor finem coronat .

GEntle Reader , there are some faults which ( through the obscurity of the Coppie , and absence of the Author ) have passed the Presse ; To particularize them were needlesse ; But favourably looke o're them , and with thy Pen courteously correct such defects as thou shalt finde , not condemning the Presse or injuring the Author .