Purfling, trimming, embroidering. Round, rustic dance. Comply, encircle. Their Evadne, the sister of Melantius in their play "The Maid's Tragedy".

576. LIFE IS THE BODY'S LIGHT.

Life is the body's light, which once declining, Those crimson clouds i' th' cheek and lips leave shining. Those counter-changed tabbies in the air (The sun once set) all of one colour are. So, when Death comes, fresh tinctures lose their place, And dismal darkness then doth smutch the face.

Tabbies, shot silks.

579. LOVE LIGHTLY PLEASED.

Let fair or foul my mistress be, Or low, or tall, she pleaseth me; Or let her walk, or stand, or sit, The posture hers, I'm pleas'd with it; Or let her tongue be still, or stir, Graceful is every thing from her; Or let her grant, or else deny, My love will fit each history.

580. THE PRIMROSE.

Ask me why I send you here This sweet Infanta of the year? Ask me why I send to you This primrose, thus bepearl'd with dew? I will whisper to your ears: The sweets of love are mix'd with tears.

Ask me why this flower does show So yellow-green, and sickly too? Ask me why the stalk is weak And bending (yet it doth not break)? I will answer: These discover What fainting hopes are in a lover.

581. THE TITHE. TO THE BRIDE.

If nine times you your bridegroom kiss, The tenth you know the parson's is. Pay then your tithe, and doing thus, Prove in your bride-bed numerous. If children you have ten, Sir John Won't for his tenth part ask you one.

Sir John, the parson.

582. A FROLIC.

Bring me my rosebuds, drawer, come; So, while I thus sit crown'd, I'll drink the aged Caecubum, Until the roof turn round.

Drawer, waiter. Caecubum, Caecuban, an old Roman wine.

583. CHANGE COMMON TO ALL.

All things subjected are to fate; Whom this morn sees most fortunate, The evening sees in poor estate.

584. TO JULIA.

The saints'-bell calls, and, Julia, I must read The proper lessons for the saints now dead: To grace which service, Julia, there shall be One holy collect said or sung for thee. Dead when thou art, dear Julia, thou shalt have A trentall sung by virgins o'er thy grave: Meantime we two will sing the dirge of these, Who dead, deserve our best remembrances.

Trentall, a service for the dead.

585. NO LUCK IN LOVE.

I do love I know not what, Sometimes this and sometimes that; All conditions I aim at.

But, as luckless, I have yet Many shrewd disasters met To gain her whom I would get.

Therefore now I'll love no more As I've doted heretofore: He who must be, shall be poor.

586. IN THE DARK NONE DAINTY.

Night hides our thefts, all faults then pardon'd be; All are alike fair when no spots we see. Lais and Lucrece in the night-time are Pleasing alike, alike both singular: Joan and my lady have at that time one, One and the self-same priz'd complexion: Then please alike the pewter and the plate, The chosen ruby, and the reprobate.

Lais and Lucrece, opposite types of incontinence and purity. Cp. 665, 885.

587. A CHARM, OR AN ALLAY FOR LOVE.

If so be a toad be laid In a sheep's-skin newly flay'd, And that tied to man, 'twill sever Him and his affections ever.

590. TO HIS BROTHER-IN-LAW, MASTER JOHN WINGFIELD.

For being comely, consonant, and free To most of men, but most of all to me; For so decreeing that thy clothes' expense Keeps still within a just circumference; Then for contriving so to load thy board As that the messes ne'er o'erlade the lord; Next for ordaining that thy words not swell To any one unsober syllable: These I could praise thee for beyond another, Wert thou a Winstfield only, not a brother.

Consonant, harmonious.

591. THE HEADACHE.

My head doth ache, O Sappho! take Thy fillet, And bind the pain, Or bring some bane To kill it.

But less that part Than my poor heart Now is sick; One kiss from thee Will counsel be And physic.

592. ON HIMSELF.

Live by thy muse thou shalt, when others die Leaving no fame to long posterity: When monarchies trans-shifted are, and gone, Here shall endure thy vast dominion.

593. UPON A MAID.

Hence a blessed soul is fled, Leaving here the body dead; Which since here they can't combine, For the saint we'll keep the shrine.

596. UPON THE TROUBLESOME TIMES.

O times most bad, Without the scope Of hope Of better to be had!

Where shall I go, Or whither run To shun This public overthrow?

No places are, This I am sure, Secure In this our wasting war.

Some storms we've past, Yet we must all Down fall, And perish at the last.

597. CRUELTY BASE IN COMMANDERS.

Nothing can be more loathsome than to see Power conjoin'd with Nature's cruelty.

599. UPON LUCIA.

I ask'd my Lucia but a kiss, And she with scorn denied me this; Say then, how ill should I have sped, Had I then ask'd her maidenhead?

600. LITTLE AND LOUD.

Little you are, for woman's sake be proud; For my sake next, though little, be not loud.

601. SHIPWRECK.

He who has suffered shipwreck fears to sail Upon the seas, though with a gentle gale.

602. PAINS WITHOUT PROFIT.

A long life's-day I've taken pains For very little, or no gains; The evening's come, here now I'll stop, And work no more, but shut up shop.

603. TO HIS BOOK.

Be bold, my book, nor be abash'd, or fear The cutting thumb-nail or the brow severe; But by the Muses swear all here is good If but well read, or, ill read, understood.

604. HIS PRAYER TO BEN JONSON.

When I a verse shall make, Know I have pray'd thee, For old religion's sake, Saint Ben, to aid me.

Make the way smooth for me, When I, thy Herrick, Honouring thee, on my knee Offer my lyric.

Candles I'll give to thee, And a new altar, And thou, Saint Ben, shall be Writ in my Psalter.

605. POVERTY AND RICHES.

Give Want her welcome if she comes; we find Riches to be but burdens to the mind.

606. AGAIN.

Who with a little cannot be content, Endures an everlasting punishment.

607. THE COVETOUS STILL CAPTIVES.

Let's live with that small pittance that we have; Who covets more, is evermore a slave.

608. LAWS.

When laws full power have to sway, we see Little or no part there of tyranny.

609. OF LOVE.

I'll get me hence, Because no fence Or fort that I can make here, But love by charms, Or else by arms Will storm, or starving take here.

611. TO HIS MUSE.

Go woo young Charles no more to look Than but to read this in my book: How Herrick begs, if that he can- Not like the muse, to love the man, Who by the shepherds sung, long since, The star-led birth of Charles the Prince.

Long since, i.e., in the "Pastoral upon the Birth of Prince Charles" (213), where see Note.

612. THE BAD SEASON MAKES THE POET SAD.

Dull to myself, and almost dead to these My many fresh and fragrant mistresses; Lost to all music now, since everything Puts on the semblance here of sorrowing. Sick is the land to the heart, and doth endure More dangerous faintings by her desp'rate cure. But if that golden age would come again, And Charles here rule, as he before did reign; If smooth and unperplexed the seasons were, As when the sweet Maria lived here: I should delight to have my curls half drown'd In Tyrian dews, and head with roses crown'd; And once more yet, ere I am laid out dead, Knock at a star with my exalted head.

Knock at a star (sublimi feriam sidera vertice). Horace Ode, i. 1.

613. TO VULCAN.

Thy sooty godhead I desire Still to be ready with thy fire; That should my book despised be, Acceptance it might find of thee.

614. LIKE PATTERN, LIKE PEOPLE.

This is the height of justice: that to do Thyself which thou put'st other men unto. As great men lead, the meaner follow on, Or to the good, or evil action.

615. PURPOSES.

No wrath of men or rage of seas Can shake a just man's purposes: No threats of tyrants or the grim Visage of them can alter him; But what he doth at first intend, That he holds firmly to the end.

616. TO THE MAIDS TO WALK ABROAD.

Come, sit we under yonder tree, Where merry as the maids we'll be; And as on primroses we sit, We'll venture, if we can, at wit: If not, at draw-gloves we will play; So spend some minutes of the day: Or else spin out the thread of sands, Playing at Questions and Commands: Or tell what strange tricks love can do, By quickly making one of two. Thus we will sit and talk, but tell No cruel truths of Philomel, Or Phyllis, whom hard fate forc'd on To kill herself for Demophon. But fables we'll relate: how Jove Put on all shapes to get a love; As now a satyr, then a swan; A bull but then, and now a man. Next we will act how young men woo, And sigh, and kiss as lovers do; And talk of brides, and who shall make That wedding-smock, this bridal cake, That dress, this sprig, that leaf, this vine, That smooth and silken columbine. This done, we'll draw lots who shall buy And gild the bays and rosemary; What posies for our wedding rings; What gloves we'll give and ribandings: And smiling at ourselves, decree, Who then the joining priest shall be. What short, sweet prayers shall be said; And how the posset shall be made With cream of lilies, not of kine, And maiden's-blush, for spiced wine. Thus, having talked, we'll next commend A kiss to each, and so we'll end.

Draw-gloves, talking on the fingers. Philomela, daughter of Pandion, changed into a nightingale. Phyllis, the S. Phyllis of a former lyric (To Groves). Gild the bays, see Note to 479.

617. HIS OWN EPITAPH.

As wearied pilgrims, once possest Of long'd-for lodging, go to rest, So I, now having rid my way, Fix here my button'd staff and stay. Youth, I confess, hath me misled; But age hath brought me right to bed.

Button'd, knobbed.

618. A NUPTIAL VERSE TO MISTRESS ELIZABETH LEE, NOW LADY TRACY.

Spring with the lark, most comely bride, and meet Your eager bridegroom with auspicious feet. The morn's far spent, and the immortal sun Corals his cheek to see those rites not done. Fie, lovely maid! indeed you are too slow, When to the temple Love should run, not go. Dispatch your dressing then, and quickly wed; Then feast, and coy't a little, then to bed. This day is Love's day, and this busy night Is yours, in which you challenged are to fight With such an arm'd, but such an easy foe, As will, if you yield, lie down conquer'd too. The field is pitch'd, but such must be your wars, As that your kisses must outvie the stars. Fall down together vanquished both, and lie Drown'd in the blood of rubies there, not die.

Corals, reddens.

619. THE NIGHT-PIECE, TO JULIA.

Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee, The shooting stars attend thee; And the elves also, Whose little eyes glow Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.

No Will-o'-th'-Wisp mislight thee, Nor snake or slow-worm bite thee; But on, on thy way Not making a stay, Since ghost there's none to affright thee.

Let not the dark thee cumber: What though the moon does slumber? The stars of the night Will lend thee their light Like tapers clear without number.

Then, Julia, let me woo thee, Thus, thus to come unto me; And when I shall meet Thy silv'ry feet My soul I'll pour into thee.

620. TO SIR CLIPSEBY CREW.

Give me wine, and give me meat, To create in me a heat, That my pulses high may beat.

Cold and hunger never yet Could a noble verse beget; But your bowls with sack replete.

Give me these, my knight, and try In a minute's space how I Can run mad and prophesy.

Then, if any piece prove new And rare, I'll say, my dearest Crew, It was full inspired by you.

621. GOOD LUCK NOT LASTING.

If well the dice run, let's applaud the cast: The happy fortune will not always last.

622. A KISS.

What is a kiss? Why this, as some approve: The sure, sweet cement, glue, and lime of love.

623. GLORY.

I make no haste to have my numbers read: Seldom comes glory till a man be dead.

624. POETS.

Wantons we are, and though our words be such, Our lives do differ from our lines by much.

625. NO DESPITE TO THE DEAD.

Reproach we may the living, not the dead: 'Tis cowardice to bite the buried.

626. TO HIS VERSES.

What will ye, my poor orphans, do When I must leave the world and you? Who'll give ye then a sheltering shed, Or credit ye when I am dead? Who'll let ye by their fire sit, Although ye have a stock of wit Already coin'd to pay for it? I cannot tell, unless there be Some race of old humanity Left, of the large heart and long hand, Alive, as noble Westmorland, Or gallant Newark, which brave two May fost'ring fathers be to you. If not, expect to be no less Ill us'd, than babes left fatherless.

Westmorland, Newark, see Notes.

627. HIS CHARGE TO JULIA AT HIS DEATH.

Dearest of thousands, now the time draws near That with my lines my life must full-stop here. Cut off thy hairs, and let thy tears be shed Over my turf when I am buried. Then for effusions, let none wanting be, Or other rites that do belong to me; As love shall help thee, when thou dost go hence Unto thy everlasting residence.

Effusions, the "due drink-offerings" of the lyric "To his lovely mistresses" (634).

628. UPON LOVE.

In a dream, Love bade me go To the galleys there to row; In the vision I ask'd why? Love as briefly did reply, 'Twas better there to toil, than prove The turmoils they endure that love. I awoke, and then I knew What Love said was too-too true; Henceforth therefore I will be, As from love, from trouble free. None pities him that's in the snare, And, warned before, would not beware.

629. THE COBBLERS' CATCH.

Come sit we by the fire's side, And roundly drink we here; Till that we see our cheeks ale-dy'd And noses tann'd with beer.

633. CONNUBII FLORES, OR THE WELL-WISHES AT WEDDINGS.

Chorus Sacerdotum. From the temple to your home May a thousand blessings come! And a sweet concurring stream Of all joys to join with them.

Chorus Juvenum. Happy Day, Make no long stay Here In thy sphere; But give thy place to Night, That she, As thee, May be Partaker of this sight. And since it was thy care To see the younglings wed, 'Tis fit that Night the pair Should see safe brought to bed.

Chorus Senum. Go to your banquet then, but use delight, So as to rise still with an appetite. Love is a thing most nice, and must be fed To such a height, but never surfeited. What is beyond the mean is ever ill: 'Tis best to feed Love, but not overfill; Go then discreetly to the bed of pleasure, And this remember, virtue keeps the measure.

Chorus Virginum. Lucky signs we have descri'd To encourage on the bride, And to these we have espi'd, Not a kissing Cupid flies Here about, but has his eyes To imply your love is wise.

Chorus Pastorum. Here we present a fleece To make a piece Of cloth; Nor, fair, must you be both Your finger to apply To housewifery. Then, then begin To spin: And, sweetling, mark you, what a web will come Into your chests, drawn by your painful thumb.

Chorus Matronarum. Set you to your wheel, and wax Rich by the ductile wool and flax. Yarn is an income, and the housewives' thread The larder fills with meat, the bin with bread.

Chorus Senum. Let wealth come in by comely thrift And not by any sordid shift; 'Tis haste Makes waste: Extremes have still their fault: The softest fire makes the sweetest malt: Who grips too hard the dry and slippery sand Holds none at all, or little in his hand.

Chorus Virginum. Goddess of pleasure, youth and peace, Give them the blessing of increase: And thou, Lucina, that dost hear The vows of those that children bear: Whenas her April hour draws near, Be thou then propitious there.

Chorus Juvenum. Far hence be all speech that may anger move: Sweet words must nourish soft and gentle love.

Chorus Omnium. Live in the love of doves, and having told The raven's years, go hence more ripe than old.

Nice, dainty. Painful, painstaking; for the passage cp. Catull. Nupt. Pel. et Thet. 311-314.

634. TO HIS LOVELY MISTRESSES.

One night i' th' year, my dearest beauties, come And bring those due drink-offerings to my tomb. When thence ye see my reverend ghost to rise, And there to lick th' effused sacrifice: Though paleness be the livery that I wear, Look ye not wan or colourless for fear. Trust me, I will not hurt ye, or once show The least grim look, or cast a frown on you: Nor shall the tapers when I'm there burn blue. This I may do, perhaps, as I glide by, Cast on my girls a glance and loving eye, Or fold mine arms and sigh, because I've lost The world so soon, and in it you the most. Than these, no fears more on your fancies fall, Though then I smile and speak no words at all.

Fold mine arms, cp. "crossing his arms in this sad knot" (Tempest).

635. UPON LOVE.

A crystal vial Cupid brought, Which had a juice in it; Of which who drank, he said no thought Of love he should admit.

I, greedy of the prize, did drink, And emptied soon the glass; Which burnt me so, that I do think The fire of hell it was.

Give me my earthen cups again, The crystal I contemn; Which, though enchas'd with pearls, contain A deadly draught in them.

And thou, O Cupid! come not to My threshold, since I see, For all I have, or else can do, Thou still wilt cozen me.

638. THE BEGGAR TO MAB, THE FAIRY QUEEN.

Please your Grace, from out your store, Give an alms to one that's poor, That your mickle may have more. Black I'm grown for want of meat Give me then an ant to eat, Or the cleft ear of a mouse Over-sour'd in drink of souce; Or, sweet lady, reach to me The abdomen of a bee; Or commend a cricket's hip, Or his huckson, to my scrip. Give for bread a little bit Of a pea that 'gins to chit, And my full thanks take for it. Flour of fuzz-balls, that's too good For a man in needihood; But the meal of milldust can Well content a craving man. Any orts the elves refuse Well will serve the beggar's use. But if this may seem too much For an alms, then give me such Little bits that nestle there In the prisoner's panier. So a blessing light upon You and mighty Oberon: That your plenty last till when I return your alms again.

Mickle, much. Souce, salt-pickle. Huckson, huckle-bone. Chit, sprout. Orts, scraps of food. Prisoner's panier, the basket which poor prisoners used to hang out of the gaol windows for alms in money or kind.

639. AN END DECREED.

Let's be jocund while we may, All things have an ending day; And when once the work is done, Fates revolve no flax they've spun.

Revolve, i.e., bring back.

640. UPON A CHILD.

Here a pretty baby lies Sung asleep with lullabies; Pray be silent, and not stir Th' easy earth that covers her.

641. PAINTING SOMETIMES PERMITTED.

If Nature do deny Colours, let Art supply.

642. FAREWELL FROST, OR WELCOME THE SPRING.

Fled are the frosts, and now the fields appear Re-cloth'd in fresh and verdant diaper. Thaw'd are the snows, and now the lusty spring Gives to each mead a neat enamelling. The palms put forth their gems, and every tree Now swaggers in her leafy gallantry. The while the Daulian minstrel sweetly sings, With warbling notes, her Terean sufferings. What gentle winds perspire! As if here Never had been the northern plunderer To strip the trees and fields, to their distress, Leaving them to a pitied nakedness. And look how when a frantic storm doth tear A stubborn oak, or holm, long growing there, But lull'd to calmness, then succeeds a breeze That scarcely stirs the nodding leaves of trees: So when this war, which tempest-like doth spoil Our salt, our corn, our honey, wine and oil, Falls to a temper, and doth mildly cast His inconsiderate frenzy off, at last, The gentle dove may, when these turmoils cease, Bring in her bill, once more, the branch of peace.

Gems, buds. Daulian minstrel, the nightingale Philomela. Terean sufferings, i.e., at the hands of Tereus.

643. THE HAG.

The hag is astride This night for to ride, The devil and she together; Through thick and through thin, Now out and then in, Though ne'er so foul be the weather.

A thorn or a burr She takes for a spur, With a lash of a bramble she rides now; Through brakes and through briars, O'er ditches and mires, She follows the spirit that guides now.

No beast for his food Dare now range the wood, But hush'd in his lair he lies lurking; While mischiefs, by these, On land and on seas, At noon of night are a-working.

The storm will arise And trouble the skies; This night, and more for the wonder, The ghost from the tomb Affrighted shall come, Call'd out by the clap of the thunder.

644. UPON AN OLD MAN: A RESIDENTIARY.

Tread, sirs, as lightly as ye can Upon the grave of this old man. Twice forty, bating but one year And thrice three weeks, he lived here. Whom gentle fate translated hence To a more happy residence. Yet, reader, let me tell thee this, Which from his ghost a promise is, If here ye will some few tears shed, He'll never haunt ye now he's dead.

Residentiary, old inhabitant.

645. UPON TEARS.

Tears, though they're here below the sinner's brine, Above they are the angels' spiced wine.

646. PHYSICIANS.

Physicians fight not against men; but these Combat for men by conquering the disease.

647. THE PRIMITIAE TO PARENTS.

Our household-gods our parents be; And manners good require that we The first fruits give to them, who gave Us hands to get what here we have.

649. UPON LUCY. EPIG.

Sound teeth has Lucy, pure as pearl, and small, With mellow lips, and luscious therewithal.

651. TO SILVIA.

I am holy while I stand Circum-crost by thy pure hand; But when that is gone, again I, as others, am profane.

Circum-crost, marked round with a cross.

652. TO HIS CLOSET-GODS.

When I go hence, ye Closet-Gods, I fear Never again to have ingression here Where I have had whatever thing could be Pleasant and precious to my muse and me. Besides rare sweets, I had a book which none Could read the intext but myself alone. About the cover of this book there went A curious-comely clean compartlement, And, in the midst, to grace it more, was set A blushing, pretty, peeping rubelet. But now 'tis closed; and being shut and seal'd, Be it, O be it, never more reveal'd! Keep here still, Closet-Gods, 'fore whom I've set Oblations oft of sweetest marmelet.

Ingression, entrance. Intext, contents.

653. A BACCHANALIAN VERSE.

Fill me a mighty bowl Up to the brim, That I may drink Unto my Jonson's soul.

Crown it again, again; And thrice repeat That happy heat, To drink to thee, my Ben.

Well I can quaff, I see, To th' number five Or nine; but thrive In frenzy ne'er like thee.

To the number five or nine, see Note.

654. LONG-LOOKED-FOR COMES AT LAST.

Though long it be, years may repay the debt; None loseth that which he in time may get.

655. TO YOUTH.

Drink wine, and live here blitheful, while ye may: The morrow's life too late is; live to-day.

656. NEVER TOO LATE TO DIE.

No man comes late unto that place from whence Never man yet had a regredience.

Regredience, return.

657. A HYMN TO THE MUSES.

O you the virgins nine! That do our souls incline To noble discipline! Nod to this vow of mine. Come, then, and now inspire My viol and my lyre With your eternal fire, And make me one entire Composer in your choir. Then I'll your altars strew With roses sweet and new; And ever live a true Acknowledger of you.

658. ON HIMSELF.

I'll sing no more, nor will I longer write Of that sweet lady, or that gallant knight. I'll sing no more of frosts, snows, dews and showers; No more of groves, meads, springs and wreaths of flowers. I'll write no more, nor will I tell or sing Of Cupid and his witty cozening: I'll sing no more of death, or shall the grave No more my dirges and my trentalls have.

Trentalls, service for the dead.

660. TO MOMUS.

Who read'st this book that I have writ, And can'st not mend but carp at it; By all the Muses! thou shalt be Anathema to it and me.

661. AMBITION.

In ways to greatness, think on this, That slippery all ambition is.

662. THE COUNTRY LIFE, TO THE HONOURED M. END. PORTER, GROOM OF THE BEDCHAMBER TO HIS MAJESTY.

Sweet country life, to such unknown Whose lives are others', not their own! But serving courts and cities, be Less happy, less enjoying thee. Thou never plough'st the ocean's foam To seek and bring rough pepper home; Nor to the Eastern Ind dost rove To bring from thence the scorched clove; Nor, with the loss of thy lov'd rest, Bring'st home the ingot from the West. No, thy ambition's masterpiece Flies no thought higher than a fleece; Or how to pay thy hinds, and clear All scores, and so to end the year: But walk'st about thine own dear bounds, Not envying others larger grounds: For well thou know'st 'tis not th' extent Of land makes life, but sweet content. When now the cock (the ploughman's horn) Calls forth the lily-wristed morn, Then to thy corn-fields thou dost go, Which though well soil'd, yet thou dost know That the best compost for the lands Is the wise master's feet and hands. There at the plough thou find'st thy team With a hind whistling there to them; And cheer'st them up by singing how The kingdom's portion is the plough. This done, then to th' enamelled meads Thou go'st, and as thy foot there treads, Thou see'st a present God-like power Imprinted in each herb and flower; And smell'st the breath of great-ey'd kine, Sweet as the blossoms of the vine. Here thou behold'st thy large sleek neat Unto the dew-laps up in meat; And, as thou look'st, the wanton steer, The heifer, cow, and ox draw near To make a pleasing pastime there. These seen, thou go'st to view thy flocks Of sheep, safe from the wolf and fox, And find'st their bellies there as full Of short sweet grass as backs with wool, And leav'st them, as they feed and fill, A shepherd piping on a hill. For sports, for pageantry and plays Thou hast thy eves and holidays; On which the young men and maids meet To exercise their dancing feet; Tripping the comely country round, With daffodils and daisies crown'd. Thy wakes, thy quintels here thou hast, Thy May-poles, too, with garlands grac'd; Thy morris dance, thy Whitsun ale, Thy shearing feast which never fail; Thy harvest-home, thy wassail bowl, That's toss'd up after fox i' th' hole; Thy mummeries, thy Twelfth-tide kings And queens, thy Christmas revellings, Thy nut-brown mirth, thy russet wit, And no man pays too dear for it. To these, thou hast thy times to go And trace the hare i' th' treacherous snow; Thy witty wiles to draw, and get The lark into the trammel net; Thou hast thy cockrood and thy glade To take the precious pheasant made; Thy lime-twigs, snares and pit-falls then To catch the pilfering birds, not men. O happy life! if that their good The husbandmen but understood! Who all the day themselves do please, And younglings, with such sports as these, And lying down have nought t' affright Sweet sleep, that makes more short the night. Caetera desunt ——

Soil'd, manured. Compost, preparation. Fox i' th' hole, a hopping game in which boys beat each other with gloves. Cockrood, a run for snaring woodcocks. Glade, an opening in the wood across which nets were hung to catch game. (Willoughby, Ornithologie, i. 3.)

663. TO ELECTRA.

I dare not ask a kiss, I dare not beg a smile, Lest having that, or this, I might grow proud the while.

No, no, the utmost share Of my desire shall be Only to kiss that air That lately kissed thee.

664. TO HIS WORTHY FRIEND, M. ARTHUR BARTLY.

When after many lusters thou shalt be Wrapt up in sear-cloth with thine ancestry; When of thy ragg'd escutcheons shall be seen So little left, as if they ne'er had been; Thou shalt thy name have, and thy fame's best trust, Here with the generation of my Just.

Luster, a period of five years.

665. WHAT KIND OF MISTRESS HE WOULD HAVE.

Be the mistress of my choice Clean in manners, clear in voice; Be she witty more than wise, Pure enough, though not precise; Be she showing in her dress Like a civil wilderness; That the curious may detect Order in a sweet neglect; Be she rolling in her eye, Tempting all the passers-by; And each ringlet of her hair An enchantment, or a snare For to catch the lookers-on; But herself held fast by none. Let her Lucrece all day be, Thais in the night to me. Be she such as neither will Famish me, nor overfill.

667. THE ROSEMARY BRANCH.

Grow for two ends, it matters not at all, Be 't for my bridal or my burial.

669. UPON CRAB. EPIG.

Crab faces gowns with sundry furs; 'tis known He keeps the fox fur for to face his own.

670. A PARANAETICALL, OR ADVISIVE VERSE, TO HIS FRIEND, M. JOHN WICKS.

Is this a life, to break thy sleep, To rise as soon as day doth peep? To tire thy patient ox or ass By noon, and let thy good days pass, Not knowing this, that Jove decrees Some mirth t' adulce man's miseries? No; 'tis a life to have thine oil Without extortion from thy soil; Thy faithful fields to yield thee grain, Although with some, yet little, pain; To have thy mind, and nuptial bed, With fears and cares uncumbered; A pleasing wife, that by thy side Lies softly panting like a bride. This is to live, and to endear Those minutes Time has lent us here. Then, while fates suffer, live thou free As is that air that circles thee, And crown thy temples too, and let Thy servant, not thy own self, sweat, To strut thy barns with sheafs of wheat. Time steals away like to a stream, And we glide hence away with them. No sound recalls the hours once fled, Or roses, being withered; Nor us, my friend, when we are lost, Like to a dew or melted frost. Then live we mirthful while we should, And turn the iron age to gold. Let's feast, and frolic, sing, and play, And thus less last than live our day. Whose life with care is overcast, That man's not said to live, but last; Nor is't a life, seven years to tell, But for to live that half seven well; And that we'll do, as men who know, Some few sands spent, we hence must go, Both to be blended in the urn From whence there's never a return.

Adulce, sweeten. Strut, swell.

671. ONCE SEEN AND NO MORE.

Thousands each day pass by, which we, Once past and gone, no more shall see.

672. LOVE.

This axiom I have often heard, Kings ought to be more lov'd than fear'd.

673. TO M. DENHAM ON HIS PROSPECTIVE POEM.

Or look'd I back unto the times hence flown To praise those Muses and dislike our own— Or did I walk those Paean-gardens through, To kick the flowers and scorn their odours too— I might, and justly, be reputed here One nicely mad or peevishly severe. But by Apollo! as I worship wit, Where I have cause to burn perfumes to it; So, I confess, 'tis somewhat to do well In our high art, although we can't excel Like thee, or dare the buskins to unloose Of thy brave, bold, and sweet Maronian muse. But since I'm call'd, rare Denham, to be gone, Take from thy Herrick this conclusion: 'Tis dignity in others, if they be Crown'd poets, yet live princes under thee; The while their wreaths and purple robes do shine Less by their own gems than those beams of thine.

Paean-gardens, gardens sacred to Apollo. Nicely, fastidiously.

674. A HYMN TO THE LARES.

It was, and still my care is, To worship ye, the Lares, With crowns of greenest parsley And garlic chives, not scarcely; For favours here to warm me, And not by fire to harm me; For gladding so my hearth here With inoffensive mirth here; That while the wassail bowl here With North-down ale doth troul here, No syllable doth fall here To mar the mirth at all here. For which, O chimney-keepers! (I dare not call ye sweepers) So long as I am able To keep a country table, Great be my fare, or small cheer, I'll eat and drink up all here.

Troul, pass round.

675. DENIAL IN WOMEN NO DISHEARTENING TO MEN.

Women, although they ne'er so goodly make it, Their fashion is, but to say no, to take it.

676. ADVERSITY.

Love is maintain'd by wealth; when all is spent, Adversity then breeds the discontent.

677. TO FORTUNE.

Tumble me down, and I will sit Upon my ruins, smiling yet; Tear me to tatters, yet I'll be Patient in my necessity. Laugh at my scraps of clothes, and shun Me, as a fear'd infection; Yet, scare-crow-like, I'll walk as one Neglecting thy derision.

678. TO ANTHEA.

Come, Anthea, know thou this, Love at no time idle is; Let's be doing, though we play But at push-pin half the day; Chains of sweet bents let us make Captive one, or both, to take: In which bondage we will lie, Souls transfusing thus, and die.

Push-pin, a childish game in which one player placed a pin and the other pushed it. Bents, grasses.

679. CRUELTIES.

Nero commanded; but withdrew his eyes From the beholding death and cruelties.

680. PERSEVERANCE.

Hast thou begun an act? ne'er then give o'er: No man despairs to do what's done before.

681. UPON HIS VERSES.

What offspring other men have got, The how, where, when, I question not. These are the children I have left, Adopted some, none got by theft; But all are touch'd, like lawful plate, And no verse illegitimate.

Touch'd, tested.

682. DISTANCE BETTERS DIGNITIES.

Kings must not oft be seen by public eyes: State at a distance adds to dignities.

683. HEALTH.

Health is no other, as the learned hold, But a just measure both of heat and cold.

684. TO DIANEME. A CEREMONY IN GLOUCESTER.

I'll to thee a simnel bring, 'Gainst thou go'st a-mothering: So that when she blesseth thee, Half that blessing thou'lt give me.

Simnel, a cake, originally made of fine flour, eaten at Mid-Lent. A-mothering, visiting relations in Mid-Lent, but see Note.

685. TO THE KING.

Give way, give way! now, now my Charles shines here A public light, in this immensive sphere; Some stars were fix'd before, but these are dim Compar'd, in this my ample orb, to him. Draw in your feeble fires, while that he Appears but in his meaner majesty. Where, if such glory flashes from his name, Which is his shade, who can abide his flame! Princes, and such like public lights as these, Must not be look'd on but at distances: For, if we gaze on these brave lamps too near, Our eyes they'll blind, or if not blind, they'll blear.

Immensive, immeasurable.

686. THE FUNERAL RITES OF THE ROSE.

The rose was sick, and smiling died; And, being to be sanctified, About the bed there sighing stood The sweet and flowery sisterhood. Some hung the head, while some did bring, To wash her, water from the spring. Some laid her forth, while others wept, But all a solemn fast there kept. The holy sisters, some among, The sacred dirge and trentall sung. But ah! what sweets smelt everywhere, As heaven had spent all perfumes there. At last, when prayers for the dead And rites were all accomplished, They, weeping, spread a lawny loom And clos'd her up, as in a tomb.

Trentall, a service for the dead.

687. THE RAINBOW, OR CURIOUS COVENANT.

Mine eyes, like clouds, were drizzling rain; And as they thus did entertain The gentle beams from Julia's sight To mine eyes levell'd opposite, O thing admir'd! there did appear A curious rainbow smiling there; Which was the covenant that she No more would drown mine eyes or me.

688. THE LAST STROKE STRIKES SURE.

Though by well warding many blows we've pass'd, That stroke most fear'd is which is struck the last.

689. FORTUNE.

Fortune's a blind profuser of her own, Too much she gives to some, enough to none.

690. STOOL-BALL.

At stool-ball, Lucia, let us play For sugar-cakes and wine: Or for a tansy let us pay, The loss, or thine, or mine.

If thou, my dear, a winner be At trundling of the ball, The wager thou shall have, and me, And my misfortunes all.

But if, my sweetest, I shall get, Then I desire but this: That likewise I may pay the bet And have for all a kiss.

Stool-ball, a game of ball played by girls. Tansy, a cake made of eggs, cream, and herbs.

691. TO SAPPHO.

Let us now take time and play, Love, and live here while we may; Drink rich wine, and make good cheer, While we have our being here; For once dead and laid i' th' grave, No return from thence we have.

692. ON POET PRAT. EPIG.

Prat he writes satires, but herein's the fault, In no one satire there's a mite of salt.

693. UPON TUCK. EPIG.

At post and pair, or slam, Tom Tuck would play This Christmas, but his want wherewith says nay.

Post and pair, or slam, old games of cards. Ben Jonson calls the former a "thrifty and right worshipful game".

694. BITING OF BEGGARS.

Who, railing, drives the lazar from his door, Instead of alms, sets dogs upon the poor.

695. THE MAY-POLE.

The May-pole is up! Now give me the cup, I'll drink to the garlands around it; But first unto those Whose hands did compose The glory of flowers that crown'd it.

A health to my girls, Whose husbands may earls Or lords be, granting my wishes, And when that ye wed To the bridal bed, Then multiply all like to fishes.

696. MEN MIND NO STATE IN SICKNESS.

That flow of gallants which approach To kiss thy hand from out the coach; That fleet of lackeys which do run Before thy swift postillion; Those strong-hoof'd mules which we behold Rein'd in with purple, pearl, and gold, And shod with silver, prove to be The drawers of the axletree. Thy wife, thy children, and the state Of Persian looms and antique plate; All these, and more, shall then afford No joy to thee, their sickly lord.

697. ADVERSITY.

Adversity hurts none, but only such Whom whitest fortune dandled has too much.

698. WANT.

Need is no vice at all, though here it be With men a loathed inconveniency.

699. GRIEF.

Sorrows divided amongst many, less Discruciate a man in deep distress.

Discruciate, torture.

700. LOVE PALPABLE.

I press'd my Julia's lips, and in the kiss Her soul and love were palpable in this.

701. NO ACTION HARD TO AFFECTION.

Nothing hard or harsh can prove Unto those that truly love.

702. MEAN THINGS OVERCOME MIGHTY.

By the weak'st means things mighty are o'erthrown. He's lord of thy life who contemns his own.

705. THE BRACELET OF PEARL: TO SILVIA.

I brake thy bracelet 'gainst my will, And, wretched, I did see Thee discomposed then, and still Art discontent with me.

One gem was lost, and I will get A richer pearl for thee, Than ever, dearest Silvia, yet Was drunk to Antony.

Or, for revenge, I'll tell thee what Thou for the breach shall do; First crack the strings, and after that Cleave thou my heart in two.

706. HOW ROSES CAME RED.

'Tis said, as Cupid danc'd among The gods he down the nectar flung, Which on the white rose being shed Made it for ever after red.

707. KINGS.

Men are not born kings, but are men renown'd; Chose first, confirm'd next, and at last are crown'd.

708. FIRST WORK, AND THEN WAGES.

Preposterous is that order, when we run To ask our wages ere our work be done.

Preposterous, lit. hind part before.

709. TEARS AND LAUGHTER.

Knew'st thou one month would take thy life away, Thou'dst weep; but laugh, should it not last a day.

710. GLORY.

Glory no other thing is, Tully says, Than a man's frequent fame spoke out with praise.

711. POSSESSIONS.

Those possessions short-liv'd are, Into the which we come by war.

713. HIS RETURN TO LONDON.

From the dull confines of the drooping West To see the day spring from the pregnant East, Ravish'd in spirit I come, nay, more, I fly To thee, bless'd place of my nativity! Thus, thus with hallowed foot I touch the ground, With thousand blessings by thy fortune crown'd. O fruitful Genius! that bestowest here An everlasting plenty, year by year. O place! O people! Manners! fram'd to please All nations, customs, kindreds, languages! I am a free-born Roman; suffer, then, That I amongst you live a citizen. London my home is: though by hard fate sent Into a long and irksome banishment; Yet since call'd back; henceforward let me be, O native country, repossess'd by thee! For, rather than I'll to the West return, I'll beg of thee first here to have mine urn. Weak I am grown, and must in short time fall; Give thou my sacred relics burial.

714. NOT EVERY DAY FIT FOR VERSE.

'Tis not ev'ry day that I Fitted am to prophesy; No; but when the spirit fills The fantastic pannicles Full of fire, then I write As the godhead doth indite. Thus enrag'd, my lines are hurled, Like the Sybil's, through the world. Look how next the holy fire Either slakes, or doth retire; So the fancy cools, till when That brave spirit comes again.

Fantastic pannicles, brain cells of the imagination. Sybil's, the oracles of the Cumaean Sybil were written on leaves, which the wind blew about her cave.—Virg. AEn. iv.

715. POVERTY THE GREATEST PACK.

To mortal men great loads allotted be, But of all packs, no pack like poverty.

716. A BUCOLIC, OR DISCOURSE OF NEATHERDS.

1. Come, blitheful neatherds, let us lay A wager who the best shall play, Of thee or I, the roundelay That fits the business of the day.

Chor. And Lalage the judge shall be, To give the prize to thee, or me.

2. Content, begin, and I will bet A heifer smooth, and black as jet, In every part alike complete, And wanton as a kid as yet.

Chor. And Lalage, with cow-like eyes, Shall be disposeress of the prize.

1. Against thy heifer, I will here Lay to thy stake a lusty steer With gilded horns, and burnish'd clear.

Chor. Why, then, begin, and let us hear The soft, the sweet, the mellow note That gently purls from either's oat.

2. The stakes are laid: let's now apply Each one to make his melody.

Lal. The equal umpire shall be I, Who'll hear, and so judge righteously.

Chor. Much time is spent in prate; begin, And sooner play, the sooner win.

[1 Neatherd plays

2. That's sweetly touch'd, I must confess, Thou art a man of worthiness; But hark how I can now express My love unto my neatherdess. [He sings

Chor. A sugar'd note! and sound as sweet As kine when they at milking meet.

1. Now for to win thy heifer fair, I'll strike thee such a nimble air That thou shalt say thyself 'tis rare, And title me without compare.

Chor. Lay by a while your pipes, and rest, Since both have here deserved best.

2. To get thy steerling, once again I'll play thee such another strain That thou shalt swear my pipe does reign Over thine oat as sovereign. [He sings

Chor. And Lalage shall tell by this, Whose now the prize and wager is.

1. Give me the prize. 2. The day is mine. 1. Not so; my pipe has silenc'd thine: And hadst thou wager'd twenty kine, They were mine own. Lal. In love combine.

Chor. And lay ye down your pipes together, As weary, not o'ercome by either.

And lay ye down your pipes. The original edition reads And lay we down our pipes.

717. TRUE SAFETY.

'Tis not the walls or purple that defends A prince from foes, but 'tis his fort of friends.

718. A PROGNOSTIC.

As many laws and lawyers do express Nought but a kingdom's ill-affectedness; Even so, those streets and houses do but show Store of diseases where physicians flow.

719. UPON JULIA'S SWEAT.

Would ye oil of blossoms get? Take it from my Julia's sweat: Oil of lilies and of spike? From her moisture take the like. Let her breathe, or let her blow, All rich spices thence will flow.

Spike, lavender.

720. PROOF TO NO PURPOSE.

You see this gentle stream that glides, Shov'd on by quick-succeeding tides; Try if this sober stream you can Follow to th' wilder ocean; And see if there it keeps unspent In that congesting element. Next, from that world of waters, then By pores and caverns back again Induct that inadult'rate same Stream to the spring from whence it came. This with a wonder when ye do, As easy, and else easier too, Then may ye recollect the grains Of my particular remains, After a thousand lusters hurl'd By ruffling winds about the world.

721. FAME.

'Tis still observ'd that fame ne'er sings The order, but the sum of things.

722. BY USE COMES EASINESS.

Oft bend the bow, and thou with ease shalt do What others can't with all their strength put to.

723. TO THE GENIUS OF HIS HOUSE.

Command the roof, great Genius, and from thence Into this house pour down thy influence, That through each room a golden pipe may run Of living water by thy benison. Fulfill the larders, and with strengthening bread Be evermore these bins replenished. Next, like a bishop consecrate my ground, That lucky fairies here may dance their round; And after that, lay down some silver pence The master's charge and care to recompense. Charm then the chambers, make the beds for ease, More than for peevish, pining sicknesses. Fix the foundation fast, and let the roof Grow old with time but yet keep weather-proof.

724. HIS GRANGE, OR PRIVATE WEALTH.

Though clock, To tell how night draws hence, I've none, A cock I have to sing how day draws on. I have A maid, my Prew, by good luck sent To save That little Fates me gave or lent. A hen I keep, which creeking day by day, Tells when She goes her long white egg to lay. A goose I have, which with a jealous ear Lets loose Her tongue to tell that danger's near. A lamb I keep, tame, with my morsels fed, Whose dam An orphan left him, lately dead. A cat I keep that plays about my house, Grown fat With eating many a miching mouse. To these A Tracy[A] I do keep whereby I please The more my rural privacy; Which are But toys to give my heart some ease; Where care None is, slight things do lightly please.

My Prew, Prudence Baldwin. Creeking, clucking. Miching, skulking.

[A] His spaniel. (Note in the original edition.)

725. GOOD PRECEPTS OR COUNSEL.

In all thy need be thou possess'd Still with a well-prepared breast; Nor let the shackles make thee sad; Thou canst but have what others had. And this for comfort thou must know Times that are ill won't still be so. Clouds will not ever pour down rain; A sullen day will clear again. First peals of thunder we must hear, Then lutes and harps shall stroke the ear.

726. MONEY MAKES THE MIRTH.

When all birds else do of their music fail, Money's the still sweet-singing nightingale.

727. UP TAILS ALL.

Begin with a kiss, Go on too with this; And thus, thus, thus let us smother Our lips for awhile, But let's not beguile Our hope of one for the other.

This play, be assur'd, Long enough has endur'd, Since more and more is exacted; For Love he doth call For his uptails all; And that's the part to be acted.

Uptails all, the refrain of a song beginning "Fly Merry News": see Note.

729. UPON LUCIA DABBLED IN THE DEW.

My Lucia in the dew did go, And prettily bedabbled so, Her clothes held up, she showed withal Her decent legs, clean, long, and small. I follow'd after to descry Part of the nak'd sincerity; But still the envious scene between Denied the mask I would have seen.

Decent, in the Latin sense, comely; sincerity, purity. Scene, a curtain or "drop-scene". Mask, a play.

730. CHARON AND PHILOMEL; A DIALOGUE SUNG.

Ph. Charon! O gentle Charon! let me woo thee By tears and pity now to come unto me. Ch. What voice so sweet and charming do I hear? Say what thou art. Ph. I prithee first draw near. Ch. A sound I hear, but nothing yet can see; Speak, where thou art. Ph. O Charon pity me! I am a bird, and though no name I tell, My warbling note will say I'm Philomel. Ch. What's that to me? I waft nor fish or fowls, Nor beasts, fond thing, but only human souls. Ph. Alas for me! Ch. Shame on thy witching note That made me thus hoist sail and bring my boat: But I'll return; what mischief brought thee hither? Ph. A deal of love and much, much grief together. Ch. What's thy request? Ph. That since she's now beneath Who fed my life, I'll follow her in death. Ch. And is that all? I'm gone. Ph. By love I pray thee. Ch. Talk not of love; all pray, but few souls pay me. Ph. I'll give thee vows and tears. Ch. Can tears pay scores For mending sails, for patching boat and oars? Ph. I'll beg a penny, or I'll sing so long Till thou shalt say I've paid thee with a song. Ch. Why then begin; and all the while we make Our slothful passage o'er the Stygian Lake, Thou and I'll sing to make these dull shades merry, Who else with tears would doubtless drown my ferry.

Fond, foolish. She's now beneath, her mother Zeuxippe?

733. A TERNARY OF LITTLES, UPON A PIPKIN OF JELLY SENT TO A LADY.

A little saint best fits a little shrine, A little prop best fits a little vine: As my small cruse best fits my little wine.

A little seed best fits a little soil, A little trade best fits a little toil: As my small jar best fits my little oil.

A little bin best fits a little bread, A little garland fits a little head: As my small stuff best fits my little shed.

A little hearth best fits a little fire, A little chapel fits a little choir: As my small bell best fits my little spire.

A little stream best fits a little boat, A little lead best fits a little float: As my small pipe best fits my little note.

A little meat best fits a little belly, As sweetly, lady, give me leave to tell ye, This little pipkin fits this little jelly.

734. UPON THE ROSES IN JULIA'S BOSOM.

Thrice happy roses, so much grac'd to have Within the bosom of my love your grave. Die when ye will, your sepulchre is known, Your grave her bosom is, the lawn the stone.

735. MAIDS' NAYS ARE NOTHING.

Maids' nays are nothing, they are shy But to desire what they deny.

736. THE SMELL OF THE SACRIFICE.

The gods require the thighs Of beeves for sacrifice; Which roasted, we the steam Must sacrifice to them, Who though they do not eat, Yet love the smell of meat.

737. LOVERS: HOW THEY COME AND PART.

A gyges' ring they bear about them still, To be, and not seen when and where they will. They tread on clouds, and though they sometimes fall, They fall like dew, but make no noise at all. So silently they one to th' other come, As colours steal into the pear or plum, And air-like, leave no pression to be seen Where'er they met or parting place has been.

Gyges' ring, which made the wearer invisible.

738. TO WOMEN, TO HIDE THEIR TEETH IF THEY BE ROTTEN OR RUSTY.

Close keep your lips, if that you mean To be accounted inside clean: For if you cleave them we shall see There in your teeth much leprosy.

739. IN PRAISE OF WOMEN.

O Jupiter, should I speak ill Of woman-kind, first die I will; Since that I know, 'mong all the rest Of creatures, woman is the best.

740. THE APRON OF FLOWERS.

To gather flowers Sappha went, And homeward she did bring Within her lawny continent The treasure of the spring.

She smiling blush'd, and blushing smil'd, And sweetly blushing thus, She look'd as she'd been got with child By young Favonius.

Her apron gave, as she did pass, An odour more divine, More pleasing, too, than ever was The lap of Proserpine.

Continent, anything that holds, here the bosom of her dress.

741. THE CANDOUR OF JULIA'S TEETH.

White as Zenobia's teeth, the which the girls Of Rome did wear for their most precious pearls.

Zenobia, Queen of Palmyra, conquered by the Romans, A.D. 273.

742. UPON HER WEEPING.

She wept upon her cheeks, and weeping so, She seem'd to quench love's fire that there did glow.

743. ANOTHER UPON HER WEEPING.

She by the river sat, and sitting there, She wept, and made it deeper by a tear.

744. DELAY.

Break off delay, since we but read of one That ever prospered by cunctation.

Cunctation, delay: the word is suggested by the name of Fabius Cunctator, the conqueror of the Carthaginians, addressed by Virg. (AEn. vi. 846) as "Unus qui nobis cunctando restituis rem".

745. TO SIR JOHN BERKLEY, GOVERNOR OF EXETER.

Stand forth, brave man, since fate has made thee here The Hector over aged Exeter, Who for a long, sad time has weeping stood Like a poor lady lost in widowhood, But fears not now to see her safety sold, As other towns and cities were, for gold By those ignoble births which shame the stem That gave progermination unto them: Whose restless ghosts shall hear their children sing, "Our sires betrayed their country and their king". True, if this city seven times rounded was With rock, and seven times circumflank'd with brass, Yet if thou wert not, Berkley, loyal proof, The senators, down tumbling with the roof, Would into prais'd, but pitied, ruins fall, Leaving no show where stood the capitol. But thou art just and itchless, and dost please Thy Genius with two strengthening buttresses, Faith and affection, which will never slip To weaken this thy great dictatorship.

Progermination, budding out. Itchless, i.e., with no itch for bribes.

746. TO ELECTRA. LOVE LOOKS FOR LOVE.

Love love begets, then never be Unsoft to him who's smooth to thee. Tigers and bears, I've heard some say, For proffer'd love will love repay: None are so harsh, but if they find Softness in others, will be kind; Affection will affection move, Then you must like because I love.

747. REGRESSION SPOILS RESOLUTION.

Hast thou attempted greatness? then go on: Back-turning slackens resolution.

748. CONTENTION.

Discreet and prudent we that discord call That either profits, or not hurts at all.

749. CONSULTATION.

Consult ere thou begin'st; that done, go on With all wise speed for execution.

Consult, take counsel. The word and the epigram are suggested by Sallust's "Nam et, prius quam incipias, consulto, et ubi consulueris, mature facto opus est," Cat. i.

750. LOVE DISLIKES NOTHING.

Whatsoever thing I see, Rich or poor although it be; 'Tis a mistress unto me.

Be my girl or fair or brown, Does she smile or does she frown, Still I write a sweetheart down.

Be she rough or smooth of skin; When I touch I then begin For to let affection in.

Be she bald, or does she wear Locks incurl'd of other hair, I shall find enchantment there.

Be she whole, or be she rent, So my fancy be content, She's to me most excellent.

Be she fat, or be she lean, Be she sluttish, be she clean, I'm a man for ev'ry scene.

751. OUR OWN SINS UNSEEN.

Other men's sins we ever bear in mind; None sees the fardell of his faults behind.

Fardell, bundle.

752. NO PAINS, NO GAINS.

If little labour, little are our gains: Man's fortunes are according to his pains.

754. VIRTUE BEST UNITED.

By so much, virtue is the less, By how much, near to singleness.

755. THE EYE.

A wanton and lascivious eye Betrays the heart's adultery.

756. TO PRINCE CHARLES UPON HIS COMING TO EXETER.

What fate decreed, time now has made us see, A renovation of the west by thee. That preternatural fever, which did threat Death to our country, now hath lost his heat, And, calms succeeding, we perceive no more Th' unequal pulse to beat, as heretofore. Something there yet remains for thee to do; Then reach those ends that thou wast destin'd to. Go on with Sylla's fortune; let thy fate Make thee like him, this, that way fortunate: Apollo's image side with thee to bless Thy war (discreetly made) with white success. Meantime thy prophets watch by watch shall pray, While young Charles fights, and fighting wins the day: That done, our smooth-paced poems all shall be Sung in the high doxology of thee. Then maids shall strew thee, and thy curls from them Receive with songs a flowery diadem.

Sylla's fortune, in allusion to Sylla's surname of Felix. Doxology, glorifying.

757. A SONG.

Burn, or drown me, choose ye whether, So I may but die together; Thus to slay me by degrees Is the height of cruelties. What needs twenty stabs, when one Strikes me dead as any stone? O show mercy then, and be Kind at once to murder me.

758. PRINCES AND FAVOURITES.

Princes and fav'rites are most dear, while they By giving and receiving hold the play; But the relation then of both grows poor, When these can ask, and kings can give no more.

759. EXAMPLES; OR, LIKE PRINCE, LIKE PEOPLE.

Examples lead us, and we likely see; Such as the prince is, will his people be.

760. POTENTATES.

Love and the Graces evermore do wait Upon the man that is a potentate.

761. THE WAKE.

Come, Anthea, let us two Go to feast, as others do. Tarts and custards, creams and cakes, Are the junkets still at wakes: Unto which the tribes resort, Where the business is the sport. Morris-dancers thou shall see, Marian, too, in pageantry, And a mimic to devise Many grinning properties. Players there will be, and those Base in action as in clothes; Yet with strutting they will please The incurious villages. Near the dying of the day There will be a cudgel-play, Where a coxcomb will be broke Ere a good word can be spoke: But the anger ends all here, Drenched in ale, or drown'd in beer. Happy rustics! best content With the cheapest merriment, And possess no other fear Than to want the wake next year.

Marian, Maid Marian of the Robin Hood ballads. Action, i.e., dramatic action. Incurious, careless, easily pleased. Coxcomb, to cause blood to flow from the opponent's head was the test of victory.

762. THE PETER-PENNY.

Fresh strewings allow To my sepulchre now, To make my lodging the sweeter; A staff or a wand Put then in my hand, With a penny to pay S. Peter.

Who has not a cross Must sit with the loss, And no whit further must venture; Since the porter he Will paid have his fee, Or else not one there must enter.

Who at a dead lift Can't send for a gift A pig to the priest for a roaster, Shall hear his clerk say, By yea and by nay, No penny, no paternoster.

S. Peter, as the gate-ward of heaven. Cross, a coin.

763. TO DOCTOR ALABASTER.

Nor art thou less esteem'd that I have plac'd, Amongst mine honour'd, thee almost the last: In great processions many lead the way To him who is the triumph of the day, As these have done to thee who art the one, One only glory of a million: In whom the spirit of the gods does dwell, Firing thy soul, by which thou dost foretell When this or that vast dynasty must fall Down to a fillet more imperial; When this or that horn shall be broke, and when Others shall spring up in their place again; When times and seasons and all years must lie Drowned in the sea of wild eternity; When the black doomsday books, as yet unseal'd, Shall by the mighty angel be reveal'd; And when the trumpet which thou late hast found Shall call to judgment. Tell us when the sound Of this or that great April day shall be, And next the Gospel we will credit thee. Meantime like earth-worms we will crawl below, And wonder at those things that thou dost know.

For an account of Alabaster see Notes: the allusions here are to his apocalyptic writings. Horn, used as a symbol of prosperity. The trumpet which thou late hast found, i.e., Alabaster's "Spiraculum Tubarum seu Fons Spiritualium Expositionum," published 1633. April day, day of weeping, or perhaps rather of "opening" or revelation.

764. UPON HIS KINSWOMAN, MRS. M. S.

Here lies a virgin, and as sweet As e'er was wrapt in winding sheet. Her name if next you would have known, The marble speaks it, Mary Stone: Who dying in her blooming years, This stone for name's sake melts to tears. If, fragrant virgins, you'll but keep A fast, while jets and marbles weep, And praying, strew some roses on her, You'll do my niece abundant honour.

765. FELICITY KNOWS NO FENCE.

Of both our fortunes good and bad we find Prosperity more searching of the mind: Felicity flies o'er the wall and fence, While misery keeps in with patience.

766. DEATH ENDS ALL WOE.

Time is the bound of things; where'er we go Fate gives a meeting, Death's the end of woe.

767. A CONJURATION TO ELECTRA.

By those soft tods of wool With which the air is full; By all those tinctures there, That paint the hemisphere; By dews and drizzling rain That swell the golden grain; By all those sweets that be I' th' flowery nunnery; By silent nights, and the Three forms of Hecate; By all aspects that bless The sober sorceress, While juice she strains, and pith To make her philters with; By time that hastens on Things to perfection; And by yourself, the best Conjurement of the rest: O my Electra! be In love with none, but me.

Tods of wool, literally, tod of wool=twenty-eight pounds, here used of the fleecy clouds. Tinctures, colours. Three forms of Hecate, the Diva triformis of Hor. Od. iii. 22. Luna in heaven, Diana on earth, Persephone in the world below. Aspects, i.e., of the planets.

768. COURAGE COOLED.

I cannot love as I have lov'd before; For I'm grown old and, with mine age, grown poor. Love must be fed by wealth: this blood of mine Must needs wax cold, if wanting bread and wine.

769. THE SPELL.

Holy water come and bring; Cast in salt, for seasoning: Set the brush for sprinkling: Sacred spittle bring ye hither; Meal and it now mix together, And a little oil to either. Give the tapers here their light, Ring the saints'-bell, to affright Far from hence the evil sprite.

770. HIS WISH TO PRIVACY.

Give me a cell To dwell, Where no foot hath A path: There will I spend And end My wearied years In tears.

771. A GOOD HUSBAND.

A Master of a house, as I have read, Must be the first man up, and last in bed. With the sun rising he must walk his grounds; See this, view that, and all the other bounds: Shut every gate; mend every hedge that's torn, Either with old, or plant therein new thorn; Tread o'er his glebe, but with such care, that where He sets his foot, he leaves rich compost there.

772. A HYMN TO BACCHUS.

I sing thy praise, Iacchus, Who with thy thyrse dost thwack us: And yet thou so dost back us With boldness, that we fear No Brutus ent'ring here, Nor Cato the severe. What though the lictors threat us, We know they dare not beat us, So long as thou dost heat us. When we thy orgies sing, Each cobbler is a king, Nor dreads he any thing: And though he do not rave, Yet he'll the courage have To call my Lord Mayor knave; Besides, too, in a brave, Although he has no riches, But walks with dangling breeches And skirts that want their stitches, And shows his naked flitches, Yet he'll be thought or seen So good as George-a-Green; And calls his blouze, his queen; And speaks in language keen. O Bacchus! let us be From cares and troubles free; And thou shalt hear how we Will chant new hymns to thee.

Orgies, hymns to Bacchus. Brave, boast. George-a-Green, the legendary pinner of Wakefield, renowned for the use of the quarterstaff. Blouze, a fat wench.

773. UPON PUSS AND HER 'PRENTICE. EPIG.

Puss and her 'prentice both at drawgloves play; That done, they kiss, and so draw out the day: At night they draw to supper; then well fed, They draw their clothes off both, so draw to bed.

Drawgloves, the game of talking on the fingers.

774. BLAME THE REWARD OF PRINCES.

Among disasters that dissension brings, This not the least is, which belongs to kings: If wars go well, each for a part lays claim; If ill, then kings, not soldiers, bear the blame.

775. CLEMENCY IN KINGS.

Kings must not only cherish up the good, But must be niggards of the meanest blood.

776. ANGER.

Wrongs, if neglected, vanish in short time, But heard with anger, we confess the crime.

777. A PSALM OR HYMN TO THE GRACES.

Glory be to the Graces! That do in public places Drive thence whate'er encumbers The list'ning to my numbers.

Honour be to the Graces! Who do with sweet embraces, Show they are well contented With what I have invented.

Worship be to the Graces! Who do from sour faces, And lungs that would infect me, For evermore protect me.

778. A HYMN TO THE MUSES.

Honour to you who sit Near to the well of wit, And drink your fill of it.

Glory and worship be To you, sweet maids, thrice three, Who still inspire me,

And teach me how to sing Unto the lyric string My measures ravishing.

Then while I sing your praise, My priesthood crown with bays Green, to the end of days.

779. UPON JULIA'S CLOTHES.

Whenas in silks my Julia goes, Then, then, methinks, how sweetly flows The liquefaction of her clothes.

Next, when I cast mine eyes and see That brave vibration each way free; O how that glittering taketh me!

780. MODERATION.

In things a moderation keep: Kings ought to shear, not skin their sheep.

781. TO ANTHEA.

Let's call for Hymen, if agreed thou art; Delays in love but crucify the heart. Love's thorny tapers yet neglected lie: Speak thou the word, they'll kindle by-and-bye. The nimble hours woo us on to wed, And Genius waits to have us both to bed. Behold, for us the naked Graces stay With maunds of roses for to strew the way: Besides, the most religious prophet stands Ready to join, as well our hearts as hands. Juno yet smiles; but if she chance to chide, Ill luck 'twill bode to th' bridegroom and the bride. Tell me, Anthea, dost thou fondly dread The loss of that we call a maidenhead? Come, I'll instruct thee. Know, the vestal fire Is not by marriage quench'd, but flames the higher.

Maunds, baskets. Fondly, foolishly.

782. UPON PREW, HIS MAID.

In this little urn is laid Prudence Baldwin, once my maid: From whose happy spark here let Spring the purple violet.

783. THE INVITATION.

To sup with thee thou did'st me home invite; And mad'st a promise that mine appetite Should meet and tire on such lautitious meat, The like not Heliogabalus did eat: And richer wine would'st give to me, thy guest, Than Roman Sylla pour'd out at his feast. I came, 'tis true, and looked for fowl of price, The bastard ph[oe]nix, bird of paradise, And for no less than aromatic wine Of maiden's-blush, commix'd with jessamine. Clean was the hearth, the mantel larded jet; Which wanting Lar, and smoke, hung weeping wet; At last, i' th' noon of winter, did appear A ragg'd-soust-neat's-foot with sick vinegar: And in a burnished flagonet stood by, Beer small as comfort, dead as charity. At which amaz'd, and pondering on the food, How cold it was, and how it chill'd my blood; I curs'd the master, and I damn'd the souce, And swore I'd got the ague of the house. Well, when to eat thou dost me next desire, I'll bring a fever, since thou keep'st no fire.

Tire, feed on. Lautitious, sumptuous. Maiden's-blush, the pink-rose. Larded jet, i.e., blacked. Soust, pickled.

784. CEREMONIES FOR CHRISTMAS.

Come, bring with a noise, My merry, merry boys, The Christmas log to the firing; While my good dame, she Bids ye all be free, And drink to your hearts' desiring.

With the last year's brand Light the new block, and For good success in his spending On your psaltries play, That sweet luck may Come while the log is a-teending.

Drink now the strong beer, Cut the white loaf here; The while the meat is a-shredding For the rare mince-pie, And the plums stand by To fill the paste that's a-kneading.

Psaltries, a kind of guitar. Teending, kindling.

785. CHRISTMAS-EVE, ANOTHER CEREMONY.

Come guard this night the Christmas-pie, That the thief, though ne'er so sly, With his flesh-hooks, don't come nigh To catch it From him, who all alone sits there, Having his eyes still in his ear, And a deal of nightly fear, To watch it.

786. ANOTHER TO THE MAIDS.

Wash your hands, or else the fire Will not teend to your desire; Unwash'd hands, ye maidens, know, Dead the fire, though ye blow.

Teend, kindle.

787. ANOTHER.

Wassail the trees, that they may bear You many a plum and many a pear: For more or less fruits they will bring, As you do give them wassailing.

788. POWER AND PEACE.

'Tis never, or but seldom known, Power and peace to keep one throne.

789. TO HIS DEAR VALENTINE, MISTRESS MARGARET FALCONBRIDGE.

Now is your turn, my dearest, to be set A gem in this eternal coronet: 'Twas rich before, but since your name is down It sparkles now like Ariadne's crown. Blaze by this sphere for ever: or this do, Let me and it shine evermore by you.

790. TO OENONE.

Sweet Oenone, do but say Love thou dost, though love says nay. Speak me fair; for lovers be Gently kill'd by flattery.

791. VERSES.

Who will not honour noble numbers, when Verses out-live the bravest deeds of men?

792. HAPPINESS.

That happiness does still the longest thrive, Where joys and griefs have turns alternative.

793. THINGS OF CHOICE LONG A-COMING.

We pray 'gainst war, yet we enjoy no peace; Desire deferr'd is that it may increase.

794. POETRY PERPETUATES THE POET.

Here I myself might likewise die, And utterly forgotten lie, But that eternal poetry Repullulation gives me here Unto the thirtieth thousand year, When all now dead shall reappear.

Repullulation, rejuvenescence. Thirtieth thousand year, an allusion to the doctrine of the Platonic year.

797. KISSES.

Give me the food that satisfies a guest: Kisses are but dry banquets to a feast.

798. ORPHEUS.

Orpheus he went, as poets tell, To fetch Eurydice from hell; And had her; but it was upon This short but strict condition: Backward he should not look while he Led her through hell's obscurity: But ah! it happened, as he made His passage through that dreadful shade, Revolve he did his loving eye, For gentle fear or jealousy; And looking back, that look did sever Him and Eurydice for ever.

803. TO SAPPHO.

Sappho, I will choose to go Where the northern winds do blow Endless ice and endless snow: Rather than I once would see But a winter's face in thee, To benumb my hopes and me.

804. TO HIS FAITHFUL FRIEND, M. JOHN CROFTS, CUP-BEARER TO THE KING.

For all thy many courtesies to me, Nothing I have, my Crofts, to send to thee For the requital, save this only one Half of my just remuneration. For since I've travell'd all this realm throughout To seek and find some few immortals out To circumspangle this my spacious sphere, As lamps for everlasting shining here; And having fix'd thee in mine orb a star, Amongst the rest, both bright and singular, The present age will tell the world thou art, If not to th' whole, yet satisfi'd in part. As for the rest, being too great a sum Here to be paid, I'll pay't i' th' world to come.

805. THE BRIDE-CAKE.

This day, my Julia, thou must make For Mistress Bride the wedding-cake: Knead but the dough, and it will be To paste of almonds turn'd by thee: Or kiss it thou but once or twice, And for the bride-cake there'll be spice.

806. TO BE MERRY.

Let's now take our time While w'are in our prime, And old, old age is afar off: For the evil, evil days Will come on apace, Before we can be aware of.

807. BURIAL.

Man may want land to live in; but for all Nature finds out some place for burial.

808. LENITY.

'Tis the Chirurgeon's praise, and height of art, Not to cut off, but cure the vicious part.

809. PENITENCE.

Who after his transgression doth repent, Is half, or altogether innocent.

810. GRIEF.

Consider sorrows, how they are aright: Grief, if't be great, 'tis short; if long, 'tis light.

811. THE MAIDEN-BLUSH.

So look the mornings when the sun Paints them with fresh vermilion: So cherries blush, and Kathern pears, And apricots in youthful years: So corals look more lovely red, And rubies lately polished: So purest diaper doth shine, Stain'd by the beams of claret wine: As Julia looks when she doth dress Her either cheek with bashfulness.

Kathern pears, i.e., Catharine pears.

812. THE MEAN.

Imparity doth ever discord bring; The mean the music makes in everything.

813. HASTE HURTFUL.

Haste is unhappy; what we rashly do Is both unlucky, aye, and foolish, too. Where war with rashness is attempted, there The soldiers leave the field with equal fear.

814. PURGATORY.

Readers, we entreat ye pray For the soul of Lucia; That in little time she be From her purgatory free: In the interim she desires That your tears may cool her fires.

815. THE CLOUD.

Seest thou that cloud that rides in state, Part ruby-like, part candidate? It is no other than the bed Where Venus sleeps half-smothered.

Candidate, robed in white.

817. THE AMBER BEAD.

I saw a fly within a bead Of amber cleanly buried; The urn was little, but the room More rich than Cleopatra's tomb.

818. TO MY DEAREST SISTER, M. MERCY HERRICK.

Whene'er I go, or whatsoe'er befalls Me in mine age, or foreign funerals, This blessing I will leave thee, ere I go: Prosper thy basket and therein thy dough. Feed on the paste of filberts, or else knead And bake the flour of amber for thy bread. Balm may thy trees drop, and thy springs run oil, And everlasting harvest crown thy soil! These I but wish for; but thyself shall see The blessing fall in mellow times on thee.

819. THE TRANSFIGURATION.

Immortal clothing I put on So soon as, Julia, I am gone To mine eternal mansion. Thou, thou art here, to human sight Cloth'd all with incorrupted light; But yet how more admir'dly bright Wilt thou appear, when thou art set In thy refulgent thronelet, That shin'st thus in thy counterfeit!

820. SUFFER THAT THOU CANST NOT SHIFT.

Does fortune rend thee? Bear with thy hard fate: Virtuous instructions ne'er are delicate. Say, does she frown? still countermand her threats: Virtue best loves those children that she beats.

821. TO THE PASSENGER.

If I lie unburied, sir, These my relics pray inter: 'Tis religion's part to see Stones or turfs to cover me. One word more I had to say: But it skills not; go your way; He that wants a burial room For a stone, has Heaven his tomb.

Religion's, orig. ed. religious.

823. TO THE KING, UPON HIS TAKING OF LEICESTER.

This day is yours, great Charles! and in this war Your fate, and ours, alike victorious are. In her white stole now Victory does rest Ensphered with palm on your triumphant crest. Fortune is now your captive; other Kings Hold but her hands; you hold both hands and wings.

824. TO JULIA, IN HER DAWN, OR DAYBREAK.

By the next kindling of the day, My Julia, thou shalt see, Ere Ave-Mary thou canst say I'll come and visit thee.

Yet ere thou counsel'st with thy glass, Appear thou to mine eyes As smooth, and nak'd, as she that was The prime of paradise.

If blush thou must, then blush thou through A lawn, that thou mayst look As purest pearls, or pebbles do When peeping through a brook.

As lilies shrin'd in crystal, so Do thou to me appear; Or damask roses when they grow To sweet acquaintance there.

825. COUNSEL.

'Twas Caesar's saying: Kings no less conquerors are By their wise counsel, than they be by war.

826. BAD PRINCES PILL THE PEOPLE.

Like those infernal deities which eat The best of all the sacrificed meat; And leave their servants but the smoke and sweat: So many kings, and primates too there are, Who claim the fat and fleshy for their share And leave their subjects but the starved ware.

827. MOST WORDS, LESS WORKS.

In desp'rate cases all, or most, are known Commanders, few for execution.

828. TO DIANEME.

I could but see thee yesterday Stung by a fretful bee; And I the javelin suck'd away, And heal'd the wound in thee.

A thousand thorns and briars and stings, I have in my poor breast; Yet ne'er can see that salve which brings My passions any rest.

As love shall help me, I admire How thou canst sit, and smile To see me bleed, and not desire To staunch the blood the while.

If thou, compos'd of gentle mould, Art so unkind to me; What dismal stories will be told Of those that cruel be?

Admire, wonder.

830. HIS LOSS.

All has been plundered from me but my wit: Fortune herself can lay no claim to it.

831. DRAW AND DRINK.

Milk still your fountains and your springs: for why? The more th'are drawn, the less they will grow dry.

833. TO OENONE.

Thou say'st Love's dart Hath pricked thy heart; And thou dost languish too: If one poor prick Can make thee sick, Say, what would many do?

836. TO ELECTRA.

Shall I go to Love and tell, Thou art all turned icicle? Shall I say her altars be Disadorn'd and scorn'd by thee? O beware! in time submit; Love has yet no wrathful fit: If her patience turns to ire, Love is then consuming fire.

837. TO MISTRESS AMY POTTER.

Ay me! I love; give him your hand to kiss Who both your wooer and your poet is. Nature has precompos'd us both to love: Your part's to grant; my scene must be to move. Dear, can you like, and liking love your poet? If you say "Aye," blush-guiltiness will show it. Mine eyes must woo you, though I sigh the while: True love is tongueless as a crocodile. And you may find in love these different parts— Wooers have tongues of ice, but burning hearts.

838. UPON A MAID.

Here she lies, in bed of spice, Fair as Eve in Paradise: For her beauty it was such Poets could not praise too much. Virgins, come, and in a ring Her supremest requiem sing; Then depart, but see ye tread Lightly, lightly, o'er the dead.

Supremest, last.

839. UPON LOVE.

Love is a circle, and an endless sphere; From good to good, revolving here and there.

840. BEAUTY.

Beauty's no other but a lovely grace Of lively colours flowing from the face.

841. UPON LOVE.

Some salve to every sore we may apply; Only for my wound there's no remedy. Yet if my Julia kiss me, there will be A sovereign balm found out to cure me.

844. TO HIS BOOK.

Make haste away, and let one be A friendly patron unto thee: Lest, rapt from hence, I see thee lie Torn for the use of pastery: Or see thy injur'd leaves serve well, To make loose gowns for mackerel: Or see the grocers in a trice, Make hoods of thee to serve out spice.

845. READINESS.

The readiness of doing doth express No other but the doer's willingness.

846. WRITING.

When words we want, Love teacheth to indite; And what we blush to speak, she bids us write.

847. SOCIETY.

Two things do make society to stand: The first commerce is, and the next command.

848. UPON A MAID.

Gone she is a long, long way, But she has decreed a day Back to come, and make no stay: So we keep, till her return, Here, her ashes, or her urn.

849. SATISFACTION FOR SUFFERINGS.

For all our works a recompense is sure: 'Tis sweet to think on what was hard t' endure.

850. THE DELAYING BRIDE.

Why so slowly do you move To the centre of your love? On your niceness though we wait, Yet the hours say 'tis late: Coyness takes us, to a measure; But o'eracted deads the pleasure. Go to bed, and care not when Cheerful day shall spring again. One brave captain did command, By his word, the sun to stand: One short charm, if you but say, Will enforce the moon to stay, Till you warn her hence, away, T' have your blushes seen by day.

Niceness, delicacy.

851. TO M. HENRY LAWES, THE EXCELLENT COMPOSER OF HIS LYRICS.

Touch but thy lyre, my Harry, and I hear From thee some raptures of the rare Gotiere; Then if thy voice commingle with the string, I hear in thee rare Laniere to sing; Or curious Wilson: tell me, canst thou be Less than Apollo, that usurp'st such three? Three, unto whom the whole world give applause; Yet their three praises praise but one; that's Lawes.

Gotiere, Wilson, see above, 111. Laniere, Nicholas Laniere (1590?-1670?), musician and painter, appointed Master of the King's Music in 1626.

852. AGE UNFIT FOR LOVE.

Maidens tell me I am old; Let me in my glass behold Whether smooth or not I be, Or if hair remains to me. Well, or be't or be't not so, This for certainty I know, Ill it fits old men to play, When that Death bids come away.

853. THE BEDMAN, OR GRAVEMAKER.

Thou hast made many houses for the dead; When my lot calls me to be buried, For love or pity, prithee let there be I' th' churchyard made one tenement for me.

854. TO ANTHEA.

Anthea, I am going hence With some small stock of innocence: But yet those blessed gates I see Withstanding entrance unto me. To pray for me do thou begin, The porter then will let me in.

855. NEED.

Who begs to die for fear of human need, Wisheth his body, not his soul, good speed.

856. TO JULIA.

I am zealless; prithee pray For my welfare, Julia, For I think the gods require Male perfumes, but female fire.

Male perfumes, perfumes of the best kind.

857. ON JULIA'S LIPS.

Sweet are my Julia's lips and clean, As if o'erwashed in Hippocrene.

858. TWILIGHT.

Twilight no other thing is, poets say, Than the last part of night and first of day.

859. TO HIS FRIEND, MR. J. JINCKS.

Love, love me now, because I place Thee here among my righteous race: The bastard slips may droop and die Wanting both root and earth; but thy Immortal self shall boldly trust To live for ever with my Just.

With my Just, cp. 664.

860. ON HIMSELF.

If that my fate has now fulfill'd my year, And so soon stopt my longer living here; What was't, ye gods, a dying man to save, But while he met with his paternal grave! Though while we living 'bout the world do roam, We love to rest in peaceful urns at home, Where we may snug, and close together lie By the dead bones of our dear ancestry.

861. KINGS AND TYRANTS.

'Twixt kings and tyrants there's this difference known: Kings seek their subjects' good, tyrants their own.

862. CROSSES.

Our crosses are no other than the rods, And our diseases, vultures of the gods: Each grief we feel, that likewise is a kite Sent forth by them, our flesh to eat, or bite.

863. UPON LOVE.

Love brought me to a silent grove And show'd me there a tree, Where some had hang'd themselves for love, And gave a twist to me.

The halter was of silk and gold, That he reach'd forth unto me; No otherwise than if he would By dainty things undo me.

He bade me then that necklace use; And told me, too, he maketh A glorious end by such a noose, His death for love that taketh.

'Twas but a dream; but had I been There really alone, My desp'rate fears in love had seen Mine execution.

864. NO DIFFERENCE I' TH' DARK.

Night makes no difference 'twixt the priest and clerk; Joan as my lady is as good i' th' dark.

865. THE BODY.

The body is the soul's poor house or home, Whose ribs the laths are, and whose flesh the loam.

866. TO SAPPHO.

Thou say'st thou lov'st me, Sappho; I say no; But would to Love I could believe 'twas so! Pardon my fears, sweet Sappho; I desire That thou be righteous found, and I the liar.

867. OUT OF TIME, OUT OF TUNE.

We blame, nay, we despise her pains That wets her garden when it rains: But when the drought has dried the knot, Then let her use the wat'ring-pot. We pray for showers, at our need, To drench, but not to drown our seed.

Knot, quaintly shaped flower-bed.

868. TO HIS BOOK.

Take mine advice, and go not near Those faces, sour as vinegar. For these, and nobler numbers can Ne'er please the supercilious man.

869. TO HIS HONOURED FRIEND, SIR THOMAS HEALE.

Stand by the magic of my powerful rhymes 'Gainst all the indignation of the times. Age shall not wrong thee; or one jot abate Of thy both great and everlasting fate. While others perish, here's thy life decreed, Because begot of my immortal seed.

870. THE SACRIFICE, BY WAY OF DISCOURSE BETWIXT HIMSELF AND JULIA.

Herr. Come and let's in solemn wise Both address to sacrifice: Old religion first commands That we wash our hearts, and hands. Is the beast exempt from stain, Altar clean, no fire profane? Are the garlands, is the nard Ready here?

Jul. All well prepar'd, With the wine that must be shed, 'Twixt the horns, upon the head Of the holy beast we bring For our trespass-offering.

Herr. All is well; now next to these Put we on pure surplices; And with chaplets crown'd, we'll roast With perfumes the holocaust: And, while we the gods invoke, Read acceptance by the smoke.

871. TO APOLLO.

Thou mighty lord and master of the lyre, Unshorn Apollo, come and re-inspire My fingers so, the lyric-strings to move, That I may play and sing a hymn to Love.

872. ON LOVE.

Love is a kind of war: hence those who fear! No cowards must his royal ensigns bear.

873. ANOTHER.

Where love begins, there dead thy first desire: A spark neglected makes a mighty fire.

874. A HYMN TO CUPID.

Thou, thou that bear'st the sway, With whom the sea-nymphs play; And Venus, every way: When I embrace thy knee, And make short pray'rs to thee, In love then prosper me. This day I go to woo; Instruct me how to do This work thou put'st me to. From shame my face keep free; From scorn I beg of thee, Love, to deliver me: So shall I sing thy praise, And to thee altars raise, Unto the end of days.

875. TO ELECTRA.

Let not thy tombstone e'er be laid by me: Nor let my hearse be wept upon by thee: But let that instant when thou diest be known The minute of mine expiration. One knell be rung for both; and let one grave To hold us two an endless honour have.

876. HOW HIS SOUL CAME ENSNARED.

My soul would one day go and seek For roses, and in Julia's cheek A richesse of those sweets she found, As in another Rosamond. But gathering roses as she was, Not knowing what would come to pass, It chanc'd a ringlet of her hair Caught my poor soul, as in a snare: Which ever since has been in thrall; Yet freedom she enjoys withal.

Richesse, wealth.

877. FACTIONS.

The factions of the great ones call, To side with them, the commons all.

881. UPON JULIA'S HAIR BUNDLED UP IN A GOLDEN NET.

Tell me, what needs those rich deceits, These golden toils, and trammel nets, To take thine hairs when they are known Already tame, and all thine own? 'Tis I am wild, and more than hairs Deserve these meshes and those snares. Set free thy tresses, let them flow As airs do breathe or winds do blow: And let such curious net-works be Less set for them than spread for me.

883. THE SHOWER OF BLOSSOMS.

Love in a shower of blossoms came Down, and half drown'd me with the same: The blooms that fell were white and red; But with such sweets commingled, As whether—this I cannot tell— My sight was pleas'd more, or my smell: But true it was, as I roll'd there, Without a thought of hurt or fear, Love turn'd himself into a bee, And with his javelin wounded me: From which mishap this use I make, Where most sweets are, there lies a snake: Kisses and favours are sweet things; But those have thorns and these have stings.

885. A DEFENCE FOR WOMEN.

Naught are all women: I say no, Since for one bad, one good I know: For Clytemnestra most unkind, Loving Alcestis there we find: For one Medea that was bad, A good Penelope was had: For wanton Lais, then we have Chaste Lucrece, a wife as grave: And thus through womankind we see A good and bad. Sirs, credit me.

887. SLAVERY.

'Tis liberty to serve one lord; but he Who many serves, serves base servility.

888. CHARMS.

Bring the holy crust of bread, Lay it underneath the head; 'Tis a certain charm to keep Hags away, while children sleep.

889. ANOTHER.

Let the superstitious wife Near the child's heart lay a knife: Point be up, and haft be down (While she gossips in the town); This, 'mongst other mystic charms, Keeps the sleeping child from harms.

890. ANOTHER TO BRING IN THE WITCH.

To house the hag, you must do this: Commix with meal a little piss Of him bewitch'd; then forthwith make A little wafer or a cake; And this rawly bak'd will bring The old hag in. No surer thing.

891. ANOTHER CHARM FOR STABLES.

Hang up hooks and shears to scare Hence the hag that rides the mare, Till they be all over wet With the mire and the sweat: This observ'd, the manes shall be Of your horses all knot-free.

892. CEREMONIES FOR CANDLEMAS EVE.

Down with the rosemary and bays, Down with the mistletoe; Instead of holly, now up-raise The greener box, for show.

The holly hitherto did sway; Let box now domineer Until the dancing Easter day, Or Easter's eve appear.

Then youthful box which now hath grace Your houses to renew; Grown old, surrender must his place Unto the crisped yew.

When yew is out, then birch comes in, And many flowers beside; Both of a fresh and fragrant kin To honour Whitsuntide.

Green rushes, then, and sweetest bents, With cooler oaken boughs, Come in for comely ornaments To re-adorn the house. Thus times do shift; each thing his turn does hold: New things succeed, as former things grow old.

Bents, grasses.

893. THE CEREMONIES FOR CANDLEMAS DAY.

Kindle the Christmas brand, and then Till sunset let it burn; Which quench'd, then lay it up again Till Christmas next return. Part must be kept wherewith to teend The Christmas log next year, And where 'tis safely kept, the fiend Can do no mischief there.

894. UPON CANDLEMAS DAY.

End now the white loaf and the pie, And let all sports with Christmas die.

Teend, kindle.

897. TO BIANCA, TO BLESS HIM.

Would I woo, and would I win? Would I well my work begin? Would I evermore be crowned With the end that I propound? Would I frustrate or prevent All aspects malevolent? Thwart all wizards, and with these Dead all black contingencies: Place my words and all works else In most happy parallels? All will prosper, if so be I be kiss'd or bless'd by thee.

898. JULIA'S CHURCHING, OR PURIFICATION.

Put on thy holy filletings, and so To th' temple with the sober midwife go. Attended thus, in a most solemn wise, By those who serve the child-bed mysteries, Burn first thine incense; next, whenas thou see'st The candid stole thrown o'er the pious priest, With reverend curtsies come, and to him bring Thy free (and not decurted) offering. All rites well ended, with fair auspice come (As to the breaking of a bride-cake) home, Where ceremonious Hymen shall for thee Provide a second epithalamy. She who keeps chastely to her husband's side Is not for one, but every night his bride; And stealing still with love and fear to bed, Brings him not one, but many a maidenhead.

Candid, white. Decurted, curtailed.

899. TO HIS BOOK.

Before the press scarce one could see A little-peeping-part of thee; But since thou'rt printed, thou dost call To show thy nakedness to all. My care for thee is now the less, Having resign'd thy shamefac'dness. Go with thy faults and fates; yet stay And take this sentence, then away: Whom one belov'd will not suffice, She'll run to all adulteries.

900. TEARS.

Tears most prevail; with tears, too, thou may'st move Rocks to relent, and coyest maids to love.

901. TO HIS FRIEND TO AVOID CONTENTION OF WORDS.

Words beget anger; anger brings forth blows; Blows make of dearest friends immortal foes. For which prevention, sociate, let there be Betwixt us two no more logomachy. Far better 'twere for either to be mute, Than for to murder friendship by dispute.

Logomachy, contention of words.

902. TRUTH.

Truth is best found out by the time and eyes; Falsehood wins credit by uncertainties.

904. THE EYES BEFORE THE EARS.

We credit most our sight; one eye doth please Our trust far more than ten ear-witnesses.

905. WANT.

Want is a softer wax, that takes thereon This, that, and every base impression.

906. TO A FRIEND.

Look in my book, and herein see Life endless signed to thee and me. We o'er the tombs and fates shall fly; While other generations die.

907. UPON M. WILLIAM LAWES, THE RARE MUSICIAN.

Should I not put on blacks, when each one here Comes with his cypress and devotes a tear? Should I not grieve, my Lawes, when every lute, Viol, and voice is by thy loss struck mute? Thy loss, brave man! whose numbers have been hurl'd, And no less prais'd than spread throughout the world. Some have thee call'd Amphion; some of us Nam'd thee Terpander, or sweet Orpheus: Some this, some that, but all in this agree, Music had both her birth and death with thee.

Blacks, mourning garments.

908. A SONG UPON SILVIA.

From me my Silvia ran away, And running therewithal A primrose bank did cross her way, And gave my love a fall.

But trust me now, I dare not say What I by chance did see; But such the drap'ry did betray That fully ravished me.

909. THE HONEYCOMB.

If thou hast found an honeycomb, Eat thou not all, but taste on some: For if thou eat'st it to excess, That sweetness turns to loathsomeness. Taste it to temper, then 'twill be Marrow and manna unto thee.

910. UPON BEN JONSON.

Here lies Jonson with the rest Of the poets: but the best. Reader, would'st thou more have known? Ask his story, not this stone. That will speak what this can't tell Of his glory. So farewell.

911. AN ODE FOR HIM.

Ah Ben! Say how, or when Shall we thy guests Meet at those lyric feasts Made at the Sun, The Dog, the Triple Tun? Where we such clusters had, As made us nobly wild, not mad; And yet each verse of thine Out-did the meat, out-did the frolic wine.

My Ben! Or come again, Or send to us Thy wit's great overplus; But teach us yet Wisely to husband it, Lest we that talent spend: And having once brought to an end That precious stock; the store Of such a wit the world should have no more.

The Sun, etc., famous taverns.

912. UPON A VIRGIN.

Spend, harmless shade, thy nightly hours Selecting here both herbs and flowers; Of which make garlands here and there To dress thy silent sepulchre. Nor do thou fear the want of these In everlasting properties, Since we fresh strewings will bring hither, Far faster than the first can wither.

913. BLAME.

In battles what disasters fall, The king he bears the blame of all.

914. A REQUEST TO THE GRACES.

Ponder my words, if so that any be Known guilty here of incivility: Let what is graceless, discompos'd, and rude, With sweetness, smoothness, softness, be endu'd. Teach it to blush, to curtsy, lisp, and show Demure, but yet full of temptation, too. Numbers ne'er tickle, or but lightly please, Unless they have some wanton carriages. This if ye do, each piece will here be good, And graceful made by your neat sisterhood.

915. UPON HIMSELF.

I lately fri'd, but now behold I freeze as fast, and shake for cold. And in good faith I'd thought it strange T' have found in me this sudden change; But that I understood by dreams These only were but Love's extremes; Who fires with hope the lover's heart, And starves with cold the self-same part.

916. MULTITUDE.

We trust not to the multitude in war, But to the stout, and those that skilful are.

917. FEAR.

Man must do well out of a good intent; Not for the servile fear of punishment.

918. TO M. KELLAM.

What! can my Kellam drink his sack In goblets to the brim, And see his Robin Herrick lack, Yet send no bowls to him?

For love or pity to his muse, That she may flow in verse, Contemn to recommend a cruse, But send to her a tierce.

919. HAPPINESS TO HOSPITALITY; OR, A HEARTY WISH TO GOOD HOUSEKEEPING.

First, may the hand of bounty bring Into the daily offering Of full provision such a store, Till that the cook cries: Bring no more. Upon your hogsheads never fall A drought of wine, ale, beer, at all; But, like full clouds, may they from thence Diffuse their mighty influence. Next, let the lord and lady here Enjoy a Christ'ning year by year; And this good blessing back them still, T' have boys, and girls too, as they will. Then from the porch may many a bride Unto the holy temple ride: And thence return, short prayers said, A wife most richly married. Last, may the bride and bridegroom be Untouch'd by cold sterility; But in their springing blood so play, As that in lusters few they may, By laughing too, and lying down, People a city or a town.

Wish, om. orig. ed. Lusters, quinquenniums.

920. CUNCTATION IN CORRECTION.

The lictors bundled up their rods; beside, Knit them with knots with much ado unti'd, That if, unknitting, men would yet repent, They might escape the lash of punishment.

921. PRESENT GOVERNMENT GRIEVOUS.

Men are suspicious, prone to discontent: Subjects still loathe the present government.

922. REST REFRESHES.

Lay by the good a while; a resting field Will, after ease, a richer harvest yield; Trees this year bear: next, they their wealth withhold: Continual reaping makes a land wax old.

923. REVENGE.

Man's disposition is for to requite An injury, before a benefit: Thanksgiving is a burden and a pain; Revenge is pleasing to us, as our gain.

924. THE FIRST MARS OR MAKES.

In all our high designments 'twill appear, The first event breeds confidence or fear.

925. BEGINNING DIFFICULT.

Hard are the two first stairs unto a crown: Which got, the third bids him a king come down.

926. FAITH FOUR-SQUARE.

Faith is a thing that's four-square; let it fall This way or that, it not declines at all.

927. THE PRESENT TIME BEST PLEASETH.

Praise they that will times past; I joy to see Myself now live: this age best pleaseth me.

928. CLOTHES ARE CONSPIRATORS.

Though from without no foes at all we fear, We shall be wounded by the clothes we wear.

929. CRUELTY.

'Tis but a dog-like madness in bad kings, For to delight in wounds and murderings: As some plants prosper best by cuts and blows, So kings by killing do increase their foes.

930. FAIR AFTER FOUL.

Tears quickly dry, griefs will in time decay: A clear will come after a cloudy day.

931. HUNGER.

Ask me what hunger is, and I'll reply, 'Tis but a fierce desire of hot and dry.

932. BAD WAGES FOR GOOD SERVICE.

In this misfortune kings do most excel, To hear the worst from men when they do well.

933. THE END.

Conquer we shall, but we must first contend; 'Tis not the fight that crowns us, but the end.