By THOMAS RANDOLPH Master of Arts, and late Fellow of Trinity Colledge in Cambridge.



Printed by LEONARD LICHFIELD Printer to the Vniversity, for FRANCIS BOWMAN: M. DC. XXXVIII.


IN such a solemne traine of freinds that sing
Thy Dirge in pious lines, and sadly bring
Religious Anthemes to attend thy Hearse,
Striving t'embalme thy precious name in verse:
I, that should most, have no more power to raise
Trophies to thee, or bring one graine of praise
To crowne thy Altar, then the Orbes dispence
Motion without their sole Intelligence.
For I confesse that power which workes in mee
Is but a weake resultance tooke from thee;
And if some scatter'd seeds of heate divine
Flame in my brest, they are deriv'd from thine:
And these low sickly numbers must be such,
As when steel moves, the Loadstone gives the touch.
So like a spungy cloud that sucks up raine
From the fat soile to send it back againe;
There may be now from me some language showne
To urge thy merit, but 'twas first thy owne:
For though the Doners influence be past
For new effects, the old impressions last;
As in a bleeding trunk we oft descry
Leaps in the head, and rowlings in the eye,
By vertue of some spirits, that alone
Doe tune those Organs though the soule be gone.
[Page] [...] [Page] [...] [Page]But since I adde unto this generall noise
Only weake sounds, and Echoes of thy voice;
Be this a taske for deeper mouthes, while I
That cannot bribe the Phansy, thaw the eye:
And on that Grave where they advance thy praise
Doe plant a sprigge of Cypresse not of Bayes.
Yet flow these teares ▪not that thy Reliques sit
Fix'd to their cell a constant Anchorit:
Nor am I stirr'd that thy pale ashes have
O're the darke Climate of a private Grave
No faire inscription: such distempers flow
From poore lay-thoughts, whose blindnesse cannot▪ know
That to discerning Spirits the Grave can be
But a large wombe to Immortality:
And a faire vertuous name can stand alone
Brasse to the Tombe, and marble to the Stone.
No, 'tis that Ghostly progeny we mourne,
Which carelesse you let fall into the Vrne:
We had not flow'd with such a lavish tide
Of teares and greife, had not those Orphans dy'd.
For what had been my losse, who reading thine,
A Brother might haue kiss'd in every line.
These that are left, Posterity must have;
Whom a strict care hath rescu'd from the Grave
To gather strength by Vnion; as the beames
Of the bright Sunne shot forth in severall streames,
And thinly scatter'd with lesse fervour passe,
Which cause a flame contracted in a Glasse.
These, if they cannot much advance thy fame,
May stand dumbe Statues to preserve thy name:
And like Sun-dialls to a day that's gone,
Though poore in use, can tell there was a Sunne.
Yet (if a faire confession plant no Bayes,
Nor modest truth conceiv'd a lavish praise)
I could to thy great glory tell this age
Not one invenom'd line doth swell the page
[Page]With guilty legends; but so cleare from all
That shoot malicious noise, and vomit gall,
That 'tis observ'd in every leafe of thine,
Thou hast not scatter'd snakes in any line.
Here are no remnants tortur'd into rime
To gull the reeling judgments of the time;
Nor any stale reversions patch thy writ
Gleand from the ragges and frippery of wit.
Each syllable doth here as truly runne
Thine, as the light is proper to the Sunne.
Nay in those feebler lines which thy last breath
And labouring brains snatch'd from the skirts of death
Though not so strongly pure, we may descry
The father in his last posterity,
As clearly showne, as Virgins looks doe passe
Through a thinne lawne, or shaddowes in a glasse:
And in thy setting, as the Suns, confesse,
The same large brightnesse, though the heate be lesse.
Such native sweetnesse flowes in every line,
The Reader cannot choose but sweare 'tis thine.
Though I can tell a rugged sect there is
Of some fly-wits will judge a squint on this;
And from thy easy flux of language guesse
The fancies weake, because the noise is lesse;
As if that Channell which doth smoothly glide
With even streames flow'd with a shallow tide.
But let a quick-discerning judgment looke,
And with a peircing eye untwist thy book
In every loome, I know the second veiw
Shall finde more lustre then the first could doe.
For have you seene when gazing on the skies
With strict survey a new succession rise
Of severall starres, which doe not so appeare
To every formall glance that shootes up there:
So when the serious eye has firmly been
Fix'd on the page, such large increase is seen
[Page]Of various fancy, that each severall veiw
Makes the same fruitfull book a Mart of new.
But I forbeare this mention; since I must
Ransack thy ashes, and revile thy dust
With such low characters, I mean to raise
Thee to my contemplation, not my praise:
And they that wish thy Picture clearly showne
In a true Glasse, I wish would use thy owne:
Where I presume how e're thy vertues come
Ill shap'd abroad, th'art fairly drest at home.
RO. RANDOLPH. M. A. Student of C. Church.

Lectori nimiùm critico qui Authoris Fescenni­nos sales plus justo rigidus interpretatur.

DExtra quid Archetypae nudas mysteria chartae?
Privati (que) aperis limina clausa joci?
Non lucem patitur sed coelebs margo venenum,
Et videt ingenuis toxica mista jocis.
Quae (que) stolata dedit sanctus Floralia vates,
Exuis, & nudos das sine veste sales.
Hin [...] tota immeritam jugulat censura papyrum,
Et levis ingenuos damnat arundo sales.
Carnifices calamos & rauc [...] jurgia Musae
Simplicitas casti sentit honesta libri.
Quid culpae fuerit si vatis amabile carmen
Lascivam casto schemate lusit anum?
Lintea si nudis iniecit pulchra pudendis?
Uel tegit incastam larva modesta Deam?
Nulla tuis regnant nisi nomina mascula chartis,
Si quod foemineum est culpa legentis erit;
(Vt proles uteri primò qui claustra reliquit,
Mascula, foemineum vidimus arte Sporum.)
Das thalami lusus cortin [...] at tegmine sanctos,
[Page]Cyntbia quos lectos gestiat esse suos.
Dii benè, quam sanctis loquitur Venus impia verbis?
Tyndaris & raptus hic stupet esse pios.
Lecta puella tuis dum spectat crimina chartis,
Visa sibi est furt [...] sanctior ire su [...].
I nunc ingenu [...] parcas lex Iulia chart [...],
Scripta librum dederat, lecta lupanar erat.
RO. RANDOLPH. ex Aede Christi.
BLest Spirit, when I first did see
The Genius of thy Poetrie,
Nimble and fluent; in a straine
Even with, if not beyond the braine
Of Laureats that crown'd the stage,
And liv'd the wonders of the age:
And this but sparkles from a fire
That flam'd up, and soar'd much higher;
I gaz'd desierous to see
Whither thy wit would carry thee.
Thy first rise was so high, that even
As needs it must, the next was heaven.
I. T. A. M.

In Authorem.

CAnescant alii, sterili (que) aetatis honore
Laetentur; fecit te tua Musa senem.
[...]arcarum labor est vit [...] mensura peractae:
Texuntur propriâ stamina vestra manu;
Felix qui primo excedis, Randolphe, sub aevo,
Nec Genii extincti praevia fata vides;
Dii bene non dederint effoetae frig oravitae:
Debes quo fueras natus in igne mori.
THO. TERRENT M. A. [...] Aede Christi:

Vpon Mr. Randolph's Poems, collected and published after his Death.

AS when a swelling Cloud melted to showres,
Sweetly diffuses fresh and active powers
Into the shrunke and thirstie veines of earth;
Blessing her barren wombe with a new birth
Of graine and fruit: and so redeemes a land
Of desperate people from th' destroying hand
Of merc'lesse Plague, Famine, or Dearth; and then
Collects it's streames unto the Ocean:
So thy diffusive soule, and fluent parts,
(Great miracle of naturall wit and Arts,)
Rapt up some Regions 'bove our Spheare, did flow
And showre their blessings downe on us below:
Whilst we, dull earth, in extasies did sit,
Almost o'rewhelmed with thy Flouds of Wit.
What bloud of verse is pump't from our dry Braines,
Sprung like a rushing Torrent from thy Veines.
When a long Drought presag'd some fatall Dearth,
Thy unexhausted Founts gave us new byrth
Of Wit and verse: when Cham, or Isis fell,
Thy open'd Floudgates made their Riv'lets swell
'Bove their proud Banks: Where planted by thy hand
Th' Hesperian Orchards, Paphian Myrtles stand,
And those sweet Shades, where Lovers tell their blisses
To th' whisp'ring leaves, and summe'em up in kisses.
There in full Quire the Muses us'd to sing
Melodious Odes, bathing in Cham, their Spring:
And all the Graces, TOM, dwelt with thee too,
Crowning thy Front for old Citherons Brow.
Nor were we rich alone; Climes farre from hence
Acknowledge yet thy soveraigne influence:
Sicilians owe to thee their fruitfull Vale,
And Cotswold [...] thy Dewes created Dale.
[Page]All Lands and Soyles from hence were fruitfull growne,
And multipli'd the measures thou hadst sowne.
Green-sword-untilled milk-maids wish no blisses
Beyond a stammel Petticoat, and kisses,
And thy sweet Dowry! This alone, they cry,
Will make our Beasts and Milk to multiply.
And the d [...]ll Fallow Clownes, who never thought
Of God or Heaven but in a floud or drought,
Doe gape and pray for Crops of Wit, and vow
To make their Lads and Wenches Poets now.
For they can make their fields to laugh and sing
To th' Muses Pipe, and Winter rhime to spring.
They pray for the first curse; like Schollers now,
To earne their livings by their sweaty Brow.
Then the fine Gardens of the Court, are set
With Flowers sprung from thy Muses Coronet.
Those pretty Imps in Plush, that on trust goe
For their fine clothes, and their fine Iudgments too,
The Frontispice or Titlepage of Playes,
Whose whole discourse is—As the Poet sayes.
That Tavernes draine, (for Ivy is the signe
Of all such sack-shop wits, as well as wine.)
And make their verses dance on either hand
With numerous feet, whilst they want feet to stand.
That score up [...]ests for every glasse or cup,
And th' totall summe behind the Doore cast up;
These had beene all dry'd up, and many more,
That quafse up Helicon upon thy score.
The sneaking Tribe, that drinke and write by fits,
As they can steale or borrow coine or wits,
That Pandars fee for Plots, and then belie
The paper with—An excellent Comedie,
Acted (more was the pitty,) by th' Red Bull
With great applause, of some vaine City Gull;
That damne Philosophy, and prove the curse
Of emptinesse, both in the Braine and Purse;
[Page]These that scrape legges and trenchers to my Lord,
Had starv'd but for some scraps pickt from thy Bord.
They'had try'd the Balladiers or Fidlers trade,
Or a New Comedie at Tiburne made.
Thus, TOM thy pregnant Phancy crown'd us all
With wealthy showers, or Mines Poeticall.
Nor did thy dews distill in a cold raine,
But with a flash of Lightning op't thy braine,
Which thaw'd our stupid spirits with lively heat,
And from our frosts for [...]'d a Poëticke sweat.
And now, Wit's Common-wealth by thee repriv'd,
(For its consumption shewes it not long liv'd,)
Thy farre dispersed Streames divert their course,
(Though some are damned up) to th' Muses Sourse,
This Ocean:—He that will fadome it,
By's Lines shall sound an Ocean of wit;
Not shallow, low, and troubled, but profound,
And vast, though in these narrow limits Bound.
The tribute of our eyes or pens, all we can pay,
Are some poore drops to thy Pactolus Sea,
And first stolne thence, though now so muddy growne
With our fowle channels, they scarce seeme thy owne.
Thus have I seene a peice of Coine, which bore
The Image of my King or Prince before,
New cast into some Peasant, loose its grace;
Yet's the same body with a fowler face.
If our owne store must pay; that Gold which was
Lent us in sterling we must turne in brasse.
Hadst thou writ lesse or worse, then we might lay
Something upon thy Vrne thou didst not say:
But thou hadst Phansies vast Monopolie,
Our stocke will scarce amount t'an Elegie!
Yet all the Legacies thy Fatall day
Bequeath'd, thy sad Executour will pay.
To late Divines (by Will and Testament)
A Paraphrase on [...]ach Commandement,
[Page]In Morall Precepts; with a Disputation
Ending the Quarrells 'bout Predestination.
To those that study how to spend the Day,
And yet grow wise—The Ethicks in a Play.
To Poets, 'cause there is no greater curse,
Thou bequeathdst—Nothing, in thy [...]mpty Purse.
To City-Madams, that bespeak new faces
For every Play or Feast, Thy Looking-glasses.
And to their chamber-maids, who only can
Adorne their Ladies head, and dreame on man,
Th'ast left a Dowry; They till now, by stealth
Writ only members of the Common-wealth.
To Heaven thy Ravish't Soule, (though who shall look
Will say it lives in each line of thy Book.)
Thy Dust, unnaturall Reliques that could die,
To Earth; Thy Fame unto Eternitie.
A Husband to thy Widdow'd Poetrie,
Not from the Court but Vniversitie.
To thy sad Aunt, and now despairing mother,
Thy litle Orphans, and thy younger Brother;
From all of which this free Confessions fit,
The younger sister had the elder Wit.

Ad Auhorem.

MOllia quòd tenui currunt mihi carmina filo,
Et meus in gyro stet breviore labor,
Dum tua constrictis assurgit Musa Cothurnis,
Et Ueneres casto vincit Avena I [...]co,
Cedimus inculti! Fato par Gloria nostro
Quod Tua mirentur Carmina, Nostra legant.
R. BRIDE-OAKE. A. M. No. Coll.
WHat need thy book crave any other fame,
It is enough that it beares Randolphs name.
[Page]Who sees the title, and him understood,
Must much condemne himselfe, or say tis good.
Goe forth example to the Neophyte,
Who hence should learne to Catechize his wit.
And dresse his Phancy by this glasse: whose Muse
Welfavour'd is, should here her face peruse,
It will not flatter, 'twill reflect the grace
She takes from th'owner of a beuteous face:
But if a menstruous, and illiterate eye
Blast her, the various specks shall soone descry
The foule beholder, and proclaime her spoile
Not to result from thence, but his own foyle.
ED. GAYTON. M. A: [...]oan.
IMmortall BEN is dead; and as that ball
On Ida toss'd, so is his Crowne by all
The Infantry of wit. Vaine Priests! That chaire
Is only fit for his true Sonne and Heire.
Reach here the Lawrell: Randolph [...] 'tis thy praise:
Thy naked Scull shall well become the Bayes.
See, Daphne courts thy Ghost: and spite of fate,
Thy Poems shall be Poet Laureat.
G. W. Ioan.

To his worthy friend Mr ROBERT RANDOLPH of Ch. Ch. on the publishing of his Brothers Poems.

WE thank you, worthy sir, that tis our hap
To praise even Randolph now without a clap,
And give our suffrage yet, though not our voice,
To shew the odds betwixt his fame and noyse:
[Page]Whose only modesty we could applaud,
That seldome durst presume to blush abroad;
And bear his vast Report, and setting forth
His vertues, grow a suff'rer of his worth,
Was scarce his own acquaintance, and did use
To hear himselfe reported but as newes,
So distant from himselfe, that one might dare
To say those two were nere familiar:
Whose pollisht Phancy hath so smoothly wrought,
That 'tis suspected, and might tempt our thought
To guesse it spent in every birth, so writ
Not as the guift but Legacy of his wit:
Whose unbid braine drops so much flowing worth,
That others are deliver'd, he brought forth;
That did not course in wit, and beat at least
Ten lines in fallow to put up one Iest;
Which still prevents our thought, we need not stay
To th'end, the Epigram is in the way.
The Towne might here grow Poet, nay tis se'd
Some May'ors could hence as eas'ly rime as read;
Whose losse we so much weepe, we cannot heare
His very Comedyes without a teare;
And when we read his mirth, are faine to pray
Leave from our griefe to call the worke a play:
Where fancy plaies with judgement; and so fits
That 'tis enough to make a guard of wits;
Where lines fulfill themselues, and are so right
That but a combats mention is a fight.
His phrase does bring to passe, and hee has lent
Language enough to give the Things Event;
The lines pronounce themselves, and we may say
The Actors were but Echoes of the Play:
Me thinkes the book does act, and we not doubt
To say it rather Enters then Comes out;
Which even you seeme to envy, whose device
[Page]Has made it viler even by its price,
And taught its value, which we count so great
That when we buy it cheapest we but cheat;
And when upon one Page we bles [...]e our look,
How-ere we bargaine we have gain'd the book;
Fresh-men in this are forc't to have their right,
And 'tis no purchase though 'twere sold in spight;
So doe we owe you still, that let us know
He gave the world the Playes, and you the Show.
IOS. HOWE. Trin. Coll. OXON.

On his beloved friend the Author, and his ingenious Poems.

VVHat need these busy wits? who hath a Mine
His owne, thus rich, needs not the scatter'd shine
Of lesser heapes: Day dimmes a taper's light:
And Lamps are uselesse, where there is no night.
Why then this traine of writers? forreigne verse
Can adde no honour to a Poet's hearse,
Whose every line, which he to paper lent,
Builds for himselfe a lasting Monument.
Brave verse this priviledge hath; Though all be dumbe,
That is the Authors Epitaph and Tombe.
Which when ambitious Pyles, th'ostents of Pride,
To dust shall fall, and in their ruins hide
Their then no more remembred Founders Name:
These (like Apollo ever young) shall fame
The first composer; whose weigh'd workes shall tell
What Noble thoughts did in his bosome dwell.
But now I find the cause: they that doe praise
Desert in others, for themselves plant Baies:
For he that praises merit, loves it: thus
[Page]Hee's good, for goodnesse that's solicitous.
Else, though Hee diamonds keenly pointed write,
They but proclaime a quainter Hypocrite:
Thus in the future, it shall honour bee,
That men shall read their names bound up with thee,
So country Moles, that would at Court appeare,
Intrude some Camels traine that does live there.
So Creatures that had drown'd else, did imbarke
With Noah, and liv'd by being in his Arke.
Or if not thus; as when in Royall state
Nobles attend Kings to inaugurate:
Or as last yeare when you both courts did see
Beget joyes noone in th'Vniversity;
All the learn'd tribe in reverend Habits meet,
As if the Schooles were turn'd into the street;
Where each one strove such duty to put on,
As might give honour to their own Sunnes Sunne.
Such honour here our dimmer pennes would have,
In pompe to wait him to his solemne grave:
Since what he was, his own fruits better show,
Then those which planted here, by others, grow.
Rich jewels in themselves such lustre cast,
As gold about them, is no grace, but Wast.
Such was his Genius: Like the eyes quick wink;
Hee could write sooner, then an other think.
His play was Fancies flame, a lightning wit,
So shot, that it could sooner pierce, then hit.
What e're he pleas'd, though but in sport to prove,
Appear'd as true, as pitty dwells with love.
Had he said thus, That discreet zeale might stan
Both with the Iesuit, and the Puritan,
T'had been believ'd; That [...]tost from heat proceeds.
That chastity from ease, and fulnesse breeds;
That women ought to wooe, as Eve at first
Woo'd Man, to make the world, and man accurst.
[Page]All would be taken up for Truth: and sense
Which knew Truth coming, would not going hence.
Had he maintain'd Rich Lucans worke had been
Meere History; there would no pen be seen,
To call it Poem. If for Caesar stood,
Great Pompey should be neither weak, nor Good.
Oh! had he liv'd to plead the craggy Law,
Which now unsetled holds the world in awe▪
He would have met some Ostracisme, I feare,
Lest he had charm'd the purple Iudge to erre.
Nor could he only in his Native speech
Robe his ripe thoughts; but even the Copious, Rich,
And lofty Greek, with Latine, did appeare
In him, as Orient in their proper sphere:
That when in them, himselfe he pleas'd t' expresse;
The ravisht hearer, could not but confesse,
He might as well old Rome, or Athens claime
For birth, as Britaine, circled with the Maine.
'Tis true, we have these lauguages still left;
But spoken, as apparrell got by theft
Is worne: disguis'd, and shadowed. Had hee
Liv'd but with us, till grave maturity;
Though wee should ever in his change have lost,
Wee might have gaind enough whereof to boast
Our nations better Genius; But now
Our hopes are nipt, e're they began to blow
And sure I am, his losse must needs strike deep,
For whom in verse, thus Englands Eye doth weepe.
Whose teares thus dew'd upon his mournefull dust
I will not longer trouble. They that must
Carp though at best things; let them only read;
These Poems here will strike that humour dead.
Which I should praise too: but in them I see
There is one blemish; for he hath nam'd mee.
Else, I'le not think the Reader so distrest
[Page]In wit: but that he will admire the rest.
Concluding thence, though in his forenoon-youth,
(And what I now shall write is modest truth,)
He knowes not him, who doth so much excell,
That could so quickly, doe so much, so well.

On the death of Mr Randolph.

VVHen Donne, and Beaumont dyed, an Epitaph
Some men (I well remember) thought unsafe;
And said they did presume to write, unlesse
They could their teares in their expression dresse.
But love makes me more bold, and telles me I
In humble termes to vent my piety
May safely dare; and reason thinks not fit,
For which I lov'd, I now should feare that wit.
Respect lookes like a bargaine, if confinde
To rules precise; and is more just then kinde.
If by a poiz'd and equall testament
It turnes good-will, into a covenant;
Must every present offer'd to a Prince
Be just proportion'd to his eminence?
Or ought my Elegy unjust be thought
Because I cannot mourne thee as I ought?
Such lawes as these, (if any be so bold)
Ought those unskilfull but proud soules to hold,
Who think they could and did, at a due rate
Love thee; not mee, whose love was passionate,
And hath decreed▪ how ere the censure goe,
Thus much, although but thus, to let men know.
I doe admire no Comet did presage
The mournfull period of thy wonder'd age;
Or that no Sybill did thy death fore tell,
[Page]Since that by it alone more ill befell
The Laurell-God, then when the day was come
Wherein his Delphick-Oracle was dumbe:
In meaner wits that proverbe chance may hold
(That they which are soon ripe are seldome old)
But 'twas a poore one, and for thee unfit,
Whose infancy might teach their best years wit;
Whose talk was exemplary to their pains,
And whose discourse was tutor to their streines;
If thou wert serious, then the audience
Heard Platoe's works in Tullies eloquence:
If sad, the mourners knew no thrifty size
In teares, but still cri'd out, oh lend more eyes.
If merry, then the juyce of Comedy
Soe sweetned every word, that we might see
Each stander by having enough to doe
To temper mi [...]th, untill some friend could wooe
Thee take the pains to write, that so that pressure
Checking thy soules quick motions, some small leasure
Might be obtain'd to make provision
Of breath, against the next Scen's action.
I could goe through thy works, which will survive
The funerall of time; and gladly strive
Beyond my power, to make that love appeare
Which after death is best seen in a teare;
But praising one, I should dispraise the rest,
Since whatsoere thou didst, was still the best:
Since then I am perswaded that in thee
Wit at her acmie was, and wee shall see
Posterity not daring to aspire
To equalize, but only to admire
The [...] as their archetype; with thought of thee
Henceforth I'le thus enrich my memory.
[Page]While others count fro [...] Earth-quakes, and great frost;
And say i'th' last deare yeare, 'twould thus much cost.
My time-distinctions this shall be among,
Since wits-decay, or Randolph's death,—so long.
R. GOSTELOW. Mr. A. Oxon.

To the pious Memory of my deare Brother in-Law Mr Thomas Randolph.

REaders, prepare your Fayth; who truly tells
His History, must needs write miracles.
Hee lisp'd Wit worthy th'Presse, as if that hee
Had us'd his Cradle as a Librarie.
Some of these Fruits had birth, when other Boyes
(His Elders) play'd with Nuts; Books were his Toyes.
Hee had not long of Playes Spectatour beene
But his small Feete wore Socks fit for the Scene.
Hee was not like those costive Wits, who blot
A quire of paper to contrive a Plot.
And e're they name it, crosse it, till it look
Rased with wounds like an old Mercers Book.
What pleas'd this yeare, is next in peices torne,
It suffers many deaths e're it be borne.
For Humours to lye leidger they are seene
Oft in a Taverne, and a Bowling-greene.
They doe observe each place, and company,
As strictly as a Traveller or Spie.
And deifying dunghills, seeme t'adore
The scumme of people, Watchman, Changling, Whore.
To know the vice, and ignorance of all,
With any Ragges they'le drink a pot of Ale;
Nay, what is more (a strange unusuall thing
With Poets) they will pay the reckoning;
[Page]And sit with patience an houre by th' Heeles
To learne the Non-sence of the Constables.
Such Iig▪like flim-flams being got to make
The Rabble laugh, and nut-cracking forsake,
They goe Home (if th' have any) and there sit
In Gowne and Night-cap looking for some wit.
E're they compose, they must for a long space
Be dieted as Horses for the race.
They must not Bacon, Beefe, or Pudding eate,
A jest may chance be starv'd with such grosse meate.
The Good Houre come, and their Braine tun'd, they write,
But slow as dying men their Wills indite.
They pen by drams and scruples, from their quill
Words (although dreggy) flow not, but distill.
They sta [...]e, and sowre their faces; nay to vent
The Braines they eate their fingers excrement:
And scratch their Heads, as if they were about
(Their wit so hide▪ bound is) to pull it out.
Ev'ry bald speech though Comicall it bee
To their rack'd members proves a Tragoedie.
When they have had the Counsell of some freind,
And of their begging Epilogue made an end,
Their Play salutes the world, and claimes the Stage
For its inheritance, being now of Age.
But while they pump't their Phansy day and night;
Hee nothing harder found then not to write.
No dyet could corrupt, or mend his straine;
All tempers were the best to his sure Braine.
He could with raptures captivate the King,
Yet not endanger Button, or Bandstring.
Poems from him gush'd out so readily
As if they'd only been in's Memory;
Yet are they with as marble fancies wrought,
As theirs whose pen waits for the thirteenth thought.
[Page]They erre who say things quickly done soone fade;
Nature and Hee all in an Instant made.
Those that doe measure Fansies by the glasse,
And dote on such as cost more time, may passe
In rank with Gulls, whom folly doth e [...]tice
To thinke that best which has the greatest price.
Who poreing on, their Spungy Braine still squeeze,
Neglect the creame, and only save the Lees.
Stopping their flying quill, they clip Fames wing,
Make Helicon a puddle that's a Spring.
Nor was his Hast hood winkt; his Rage was wise,
His Fury counsell had, his rashnesse eyes.
Though hee (as Engines arrowes) shot forth wit,
Yet aim'd with all the proper marks to hit.
His Inke ne're stain'd the Surplice; he doth right
That sometimes takes a care to misse the White.
Hee turn'd no Scripture phrase into a jest;
Hee was inspir'd with raptures, not possest.
Some Divelish Poets thinke their Muse does ill
Vnlesse their verses doe prophane or kill.
They boldly write what I should feare to thinke,
Words that doe pale their paper, black their Inke.
The Titles of their Satyrs fright some, more
Then Lord have mercy writ upon a doore.
Although his wit was sharp as others, yet
It never wounded; thus a Razer set
In a wise Barbers hand tickles the skin,
And leaves a smooth not carbonaded chin.
So soveraigne was his Phan sy, that you'd think
His quickning pen did Balsam drop not Inke.
Read's Elegies and you will see his praise
Doth many soules 'fore th' Resurrection raise
No venom's in his Book; his very S [...]ake
You may as safely as a Flower take.
[Page]There's none needs feare to surfet with his phrase,
He has no Gyant raptures to amaze
And torture weake capacities with wonder:
He (by his Laurell guarded) nere did Thunder
As those strong bumbast Wits, whose Poetrie
Sounds like a Charme, or Spanish Pedigree.
Who with their Phancy towring 'bove the Sun,
Have in their stile Babells confusion.
If puny eyes doe read their verses, they
Will think 'tis Hebrew writ the English way.
His Lines doe runne smooth as the feet of time;
Each leafe though rich, swells not with gouty rime.
Here is no thrum, or knot; Arachne ne're
Weav'd a more even webb; and as they are
Listed for smoothnesse, so in this againe
That each Thread's spun, and warp'd by his own braine.
We have some Poetasters, who although
They ne're beyond the writing-Schoole did goe,
Sit at Apollo's Table, when as they
But midwives are, not Parents to a Play.
Were they betray'd, they'd be each Coblers scoffe,
Laught at, as one whose Periwig's blowne off.
Their Braines lye all in Notes; Lord! how they'd looke
If they should chance to loose their Table-book!
Their Bayes, like Ivy, cannot mount at all
But by some neighbouring tree, or joyning wall.
With what an extasy shall we behold
This Book, which is no Ghost of any old
Wormeaten Authour; heres no jest, or hint,
But had his Head both for it's Ore an' mint.
Wer't not for some Translations, none could know
Whether he had e're look'd in Book or no.
He could discourse of any subject, yet
No cold premeditated sence repeat;
[Page]As he that nothing at the Table talkes,
But what was cook'd in's study or the walkes;
Whose wit (like a sun-diall) only can
Goe true in this, or that Meridian.
Each Climate was to him his proper Spheare;
You'd think he had been brought up every where.
Was he at Court? his Complements would be
Rich wrought with Phansies best embroderie;
Which the spruse Gallants Echo like would speake
So oft, as they'd be thread-bare in a weeke.
They lov'd even his Abuses, the same [...]eere
So witty 'twas, would sting and please their eare.
Read's flowry Pastoralls, and you will sweare
Hee was not Iohnsons only, but Pans Heire.
His smooth Amyntas would perswade even me
To think he alwaies liv'd in Sicilie.
Those happier Groves that shaded him, were all
As Trees of knowledge, and Propheticall:
Dodon's were but the type of them, Leaves were
Books in old time, but became Schollers here.
Had he liv'd till Westminster Hall was seen
In Forrest Townes, perhaps he fin'd had been.
Whilst others made Trees Maypoles, he could doe
As Orpheus did, and make them Dancers too.
But these were the light sports of his spare time;
He was as able to dispute, as rime.
And all (two gifts ne're joyn'd before) outwent
As well in Syllogisme as Complement.
Who looks within his clearer Glasse, will say
At once he writ an Ethick Tract and Play.
When he in Cambridge Schooles did moderate,
(Truth never found a subtler Advocate)
He▪ had as many Auditours, as those
Who preach, their mouths being Silenc'd, through the Nose.
[Page]The Grave Divines stood gazing, as if there
In words was colour, or in th' eye an eare:
To heare him they would penetrate each other,
Embrace a Throng, and love a noy some smother.
Though plodding Pates much time and oyle had spent
In beating out an obscure Argument;
He could untie, not break, the subtlest knot
Their puzling Art could weave; nay he had got
The trick on't so, as if that he had been
Within each Braine, and the nice folding seen.
Who went to th' Schooles Peripateticks, came,
If he disputed, home in Plato's name.
His Oppositions were as Text; some le'd
With wonder, thought he had not urg'd but read.
Nor was his Iudgment all Philosophy;
He was in points of deepe Divinitie
Only Not Doctor; his true Catho'lique Braine
The Learning of a Councell did containe.
But all his Works are lost, his Fire is out;
These are but's Ashes, which were throwne about
And now rak'd up together; all wee have
With pious sacriledge snatch'd from his Grave
Are a few meteours; which may make it [...]e'd
That TOM is yet alive, but Randolph's dead.
Thus when a Merchant posting o're the sea
With his rich loaden shippe is cast away;
Some light small Wares doe swim unto the shore,
But th▪ great and solid Prizes ne're rise more.
RIC. WEST. Bac. of Arts, and Student of Chr. Church.


GOE sor did earth, and hope not to bewitch
My high-borne soule, that flies a nobler pitch!
Thou can'st not tempt her with adulterate show,
She beares no appetite that flaggs so low.
Should both the Indies spread their lapps to me,
And court my eyes to wish their Treasurie,
My better will they neither could entice;
Nor this with gold, nor that with all her spice.
For what poore things had these possessions showne,
When all were mine, but I were not mine owne!
Others in pompous wealth their thoughts may please,
And I am rich in wishing none of these.
For say; which happinesse would you beg first,
Still to have drink, or never to haue thirst?
[Page 2]No servants on my beck attendant stand,
Yet are my passions all at my command;
Reason within me shall sole ruler be,
And every sense shall we are her livery.
Lord of my selfe in cheife; when they that have
More wealth, make that their Lord, which is my slaue.
Yet I as well as they, with more content
Have in my selfe a Houshold government.
My intellectuall soule hath there possest
The Stewards place, to governe all the rest.
When I goe forth my Eyes too Vshers are,
And dutifully walke before me bare.
My Leggs run Footmen by me. Goe or stand
My ready Armes waite close on either hand.
My Lipps are Porters to the dangerous dore:
And either Eare a trusty Auditor:
And when abroad I goe, Fancy shall be
My skilfull Coachman, and shall hurry me
Through Heaven & Earth, and Neptune's watry plaine,
And in a moment drive me back againe.
The charge of all my Cellar, Thirst, is thine;
Thou Butler art and Yeoman of my wine.
Stomacke the Cooke, whose dishes best delight,
Because their only sawce is Appetite.
My other Cooke digestion; where to me
Teeth carve, and Palat will the taster be.
And the two Eylids, when I goe to sleepe,
Like carefull groomes my silent chamber keepe.
Where least a cold oppresse my vitall part,
A gentle fire is kindled by the Heart.
[Page 3]And least too great a heat procure my paine,
The Lungs fanne winde to coole those parts againe.
Within the inner closet of my braine
Attend the nobler members of my traine.
Invention Master of my Mint growes there,
And Memory my faithfull Treasurer.
And though in others 'tis a treacherous part,
My Toungue is Secretary to my heart.
And then the pages of my soule and sense,
Love, Anger, Pleasure, Griefe, Concupiscence,
And all affections else are taught t'obey
Like subjects, not like favourites to sway.
This is my Mannor-house, and men shall see
I here live Maister of my family.
Say then thou man of worth; in what degree
May thy proud fortunes over-ballance me?
Thy many barks plough the rough Oceans backe;
And I am never frighted with a wracke.
Thy flocks of sheepe are numberlesse to tell;
And with one fleece I can be cloth'd as well.
Thou hast a thousand severall farmes to let;
And I doe feede on ne're a Tenants sweat.
Thou hast the Commons to Inclosure brought;
And I have fixt a bound to my vast thought.
Variety is sought for to delight
Thy witty and ambitious Appetite;
Three Elements, at least, dispeopled be,
To satisfie judicious gluttony▪
And yet for this I love my Commons here,
Above the choicest of thy dainty cheere.
[Page 4]Noe widdowes curse caters a dish of mine,
I drinke no teares of Orphans in my wine.
Thou maist perchance to some great office come,
And I can rule a Common wealth at home.
And that preheminence injoy more free,
Then thou puft up with vaine Authority.
What boots it him a large command to have,
Whose every part is some poore vices slave!
Which over him as proudly Lords it there,
As o're the rusticke he can domineere.
Whilst he poore swaines doth threat, in his own eyes
Lust and Concupiscence doe Tyrannize.
Ambition wrackes his heart with jealous feare,
And bastard flattery captivates his eare.
He on posterity may fixe his care,
And I can study on the times that were.
He stands upon a pinacle to show
His dangerous height, whilst I sit safe below.
Thy father hords up gold for thee to spend,
When death will play the office of a friend,
And take him hence, which yet he thinkes too late:
My nothing to inherit is a fate
Above thy birth-right, should it double be;
No longing expectation tortures me.
I can my fathers reverend head survay,
And yet not wish that every haire were gray.
My constant Genius sayes I happier stand,
And richer in his life, then in his land.
And when thou hast an heyre, that for thy gold
Will thinke each day makes thee an yeare to old;
[Page 5]And ever gaping to possesse thy store,
Conceives thy age to be above fourescore
'Cause his is one and twenty, and will pray
The too slow houres to hast, and every day
Bespeake thy Coffin, cursing every bell,
That he heares tole, 'cause 'tis anothers knell;
(And justly at thy life he may repine,
For his is but a wardship during thine.)
Mine shall have no such thoughts, if I have one
He shall be more a pupill then a sonne:
And at my grave weepe truth, and say deaths hand,
That bountifully unto thine gave land,
But rob'd him of a Tutor; Cursed store!
There is no piety but amongst the poore.
Goe then confesse which of us fathers be
The happier made in our posterity:
I in my Orphane that hath nought beside
His vertue, thou in thy rich parricide.
Thou severall Artists doest imploy to show
The measure of thy lands; that thou maist know
How much of earth thou hast: while I doe call
My thoughts to scan how little 'tis in all.
Thou hast thy hounds to hunt the timorous hare,
The crafty fox, or the more noble deere;
Till at a fault perchance thy Lordship be,
And some poore citty varlet hunt for thee.
For 'tis not poore Actaeons fault alone;
Hounds have devour'd more Masters sure then one.
Whilst I the while pursueing my content,
With the quicke Nostrils of a judgement, sent
[Page 6]The hidden steps of nature, and there see
Your game maintain'd by her Antipathye.
Thou hast a Hawke, and to that height doth flye
Thy understanding, if it soare so high:
While I my soule with Eagles Pinions wing,
To stoope at Heaven, and in her Talons bring
A glorious constellation, sporting there
With him whose belt of starres adornes the spheare.
Thou hast thy landskips, and the painters try
With all their skill to please thy wanton eye.
Here shadowy groves, and craggy mountaines there;
Here Rivers headlong fall, there springs runne cleare;
The Heavens bright Raies through clouds must azure show,
Circled about with Iris gawdy bow.
And what of this? I reall Heavens doe see,
True springs, true groves; whilst yours but shadows be.
Nor of your houshhold stuffe so proudly boast,
Compos'd of curiosity and cost.
Your two best chambers are unfurnished,
Th' inner and upper roome, the heart and head.
But you will say the comfort of a life
Is in the partner of our joyes, a wife.
You may have choice of brides, you need not wooe
The rich, the faire; they both are proferd you:
But what fond virgin will my love preferre,
That only in Parnassus joynture her!
Yet thy base ma [...]ch I scorne, an honest pride
I harbour here that scornes a market bride.
Neglected beauty now is priz'd by gold,
And sacred love is basely bought and sold.
[Page 7]Wives are growne traffique, marriage is a trade,
And when a nuptiall of two hearts is made,
There must of moneyes too a wedding be,
That coine as well as men may multiplye.
O humane blindnesse! had we eyes to see,
There is no wealth to valiant poetry!
And yet what want I Heaven or Earth can yeeld?
Me thinkes I now possesse the Elisian field.
Into my chest the yellow Tagus flowes,
While my plate fleete in bright Pactolus rowes.
Th' Hesperian Orchard's mine; mine, mine is all:
Thus am I rich in wealth poëticall.
Why strive you then my friends to circumvent
My soule, and rob me of my blest content?
Why out of ignorant love counsell you me
To leave the Muses and my poëtry?
Which should I leave and never follow more,
I might perchance get riches and be poore.

In Anguem, qui Lycorin dormientem amplexus est.

VEr erat, & flores per apertum libera campum
(Vt Cereris spes una) legit mea flamma Lycoris.
At nimio tandem studio, nimio (que) labore
Admisit somnos virides defessa per herbas.
Vt (que) erat, & placidum carpebant membrasoporem,
Alternâ varius maculâ de flore propinquo
[Page 8]Per vestes tacitè subrepsit Lubricus anguis.
Vidi ego, & attonitam perculsus frigore mentem,
Omnia pertimui: Tu me Rhodopëia conjux
Serpentum insidiis blando direpta marito,
Prima feris: sed cum tendentem innoxia vidi
Spicula, nec lassae fraudem intentare puellae:
Quam longè timor hic abiit, maiore secuto
Nam (que) levis totum lustravit vipera corpus;
Iam (que) suam Lybiam & steriles fastidit arenas:
Et mirata femur, ventrem (que) atque ubera lacte
Candidiora suo; Tali fas, dixit, in arvo
Fas mihi semper erit, per (que) istos serpere colles.
Me videt & metuens cerni fugit improbus anguis.
Sub niveoque latet collo, sua lilia credens;
Purpureis mox usque genis allapsus, in istis
Tutiùs est haerere rosis, & dulciùs, inquit.
Tum frontem spectans, venas (que) in fronte tumentes,
Quaenam (ait ille) jugo violae nascuntur in isto?
Hinc ad Caesariem surgit, flavos (que) capillos,
Et stupet [...]uratam formoso in vertice sylvam.
Hesperium (que) nemus iam credit, credidit hortum.
Talibus aut foliis, aut tali fronde superbâ
Non illi Myrtus Paphiae, Dodona (que) Quercus,
Thessala nec Pinus, nec erat Penëia laurus.
Gaudia iam tota implêrant secura perîcli
Pectora, descendit rursus, totos (que) per a [...]tus
Lascivus gestit numeroso ludere gyro.
Cauda (que) formosum cingat dum frigida collum,
Labra petit labris, & Nectaris osculalibat,
Spirantesque haurit Zephiros, atque omnia Phoenix
[Page 9]Quae potuit moriens precioso imponere bust [...].
Quicquid olent Arabes, saevum non inde venenum,
Sed velut Hyblaeos discurrens incola campos,
Mella legit nova naper Apis: jam credite, possit
Inter Aristaei serpens armenta vagari.
Ah quoties metui coelestes frigidus Artes,
Rivalem (que) Iovem! formâ ne callidus istâ
Appeteret nostram, petiit Deoïda Nympham.
Exerit ille caput (toto iam corde voluptas
Insedit) Cantu (que) suae blanditur amicae,
Dulcia (que) erectis [...] sibila cristis.
Excutitur Nymphae [...]omnus; iam membra refecta
Lumina (que) attollit totum admittentia Phoebum.
Dum (que) ibi dispersos flores, lapsam (que) coronam
Colligit in gremio, maculosus cernitur angui [...].
Illa (sibi notae quanta est fiducia formae!)
Nil metuens, tenerum tractavit pollice vermem,
Admovit (que) sinu, collo (que) & pectore fovit.
Hic ludens modo per digitos novus annulus ib [...]t,
Splendida nunc mediam complexus Zonae puellam;
Viva (que) per teretes pendens armilla lacertos.
Gratior ut fieret cultus, in mille figuras
Flectitur, innumeros [...]ese variavit in orbes,
Candida multiplici constringens brachia nodo.
Ah nimium superis, nimium est dilecta Lycoris!
Eo [...]s alii fluctus, & litt [...]ra rubra
Scrutantur; nulli misit priùs Africa gemmas.
Perniciem quaecun (que) parant & flebile virus
Humano generi, cupiunt ornare Lycorin.
Nam (que) ea, parva licet, summo quae pendula tect [...]
[Page 10]Nectit opus, cum de serpente monilia facta
Aemula vidisset, subito novus ardor amantis
Pectus agit: Serpensnè, inquit, tibi gemma Licori?
Nulla ego contulerim divinae munera formae!
Nec mora; deposcit radios, sua retia mittit,
Quae (que) solet trepidis venabula tendere muscis,
Et tibi subtiles meditatur Aranea telas.
Tu tamen, ô serpens, qui nostris reptile felix
Deliciis fruere & triplici rapis oscula linguâ,
(Sic semper novus exuviis & pelle renatâ
Perfectam repetas per saecula mill [...] iuventam!)
Vestras pulchram artes & pharmaca vestra Lycorin
Edoceas, longam ne sentiat illa senectam,
Nec fronti turpes inscribant tempora rugas.
At nova perpetuò facies, eadem (que) Lycorin
Monstret, & in speculo nunquam sese altera quaerat,
Et Venerem formâ superans aevo (que) Sybillam.
At tandem hinc abiens, ô felicissime Serpens,
Quando ren [...]scentes numerâsti saepius annos,
Accedas aftris sidus, Pythone remoto,
Fluminis in morem flexus; Tu deinde Lycori
Cum taedet vitae Serpenti proxima charo
Stella nite, coelum (que) bea, tibi det (que) Cathedram
Gassiopaea suam, det Bacchi Virgo Coronam.

Englished thus [...]

THe spring was come, and all the fields growne fine
My flame Lycoris like young Proserpine
[Page 11]Went forth to gather flowers, bettring their sent
They tooke more sweetnesse from her, then they lent.
Now loaden with her harvest, and o'repress't
With her sweete toyle, she laid her downe to rest.
Lyllies did strow her couch, and proud were growne
To beare a whitnesse purer then their owne.
Roses fell downe soft pillowes to her head,
And blusht themselves into a deeper red
To emulate her cheekes: Flora did set
Her maids to worke to weave the Violet
Into a purple rugge, to shield the faire
Lycoris from the malice of the Ayre.
When loe a snake hid in the neighbour bowres,
(Ah who could think treason should lurke in flowers?)
Shootes forth her checker'd skin, and gently creepes
Ore my Lycoris, that as gently sleepes.
I saw it, and a sodaine frost possest
My frighted soule in my then troubled brest.
What feares appear'd not to my mind and me?
Thou first wert call'd bemoan'd Euridice;
By serpents envy forced to expire,
From Orpheus rapt, and his death conquering lyre.
But when I found he wore a guiltlesse sting,
And more of love did then of treason bring:
How quickly could my former feare depart;
And to a greater leave my iealous heart!
For the smooth Viper every member scands,
Africk he loaths now, and the barren sands
That nurst him, wondring at the glorious sight
Of thighes and belly, and her brests more white
[Page 12]Then their owne milke: Ah might I still (quoth he)
Grawle in such fields, 'twixt two such mountaines be!
There me he spied, and fearing to be seen,
Shrowds to her neck, thinking 't had Lyllies been.
But viewing her bright cheekes, he soone did crye
Vnder you Roses shall I safer lye.
Thence did her forehead with full veines appeare,
Good heaven (quoth he) what violets growe here
On this cleare Promontary? Hence he slides
Vp to her lockes, and through her tresses glides,
Her yellow tresses; dazel'd to behold
A glistring groue, an intire wood of Gold.
Th' Hesperian wood he thinkes he now hath seene,
That thought, But now, they had an Orchard beene;
For leaves and boughs the Archimenian vine,
The Dodon Oak and the Thessalian Pine
must yeeld to these, no trees so bright as they,
Nor Paphian Mirtles, nor Penëian bay!
Ioy now filld all his brest, no timorows feare
Of danger could find roome to harbour there.
Downe slips he and about each limbe he hurles
His wanton body into numerous curles.
And while his taile had throwne it selfe a chaine
About her necke, his head beares up againe;
With his black lips her warmer lips he greets,
And there with kisses steept in Nectar meets.
Thence Zephyr's breath he suckes, then doth he smell
Perfumes that all th' Arabian gummes excell.
And spices that doe build the Phoenix Pyre,
When she renewes her youth in funerall fire.
[Page 13]Nor seekes he poyson there, but like the Bee
That on mount Hybla plyes her husbandry.
He gathers honey thence, now, now I know
With Aristaeus flocks a snake may goe.
Ah cold at heart, I fear'd some heavenly sleight,
And love my rival; that his old deceit
Had once againe this borrowed shape put on
To court my Nimph, as he Deöis wonne.
Up lift the snake his head (for pleasure now
Held all his soule) and with erected brow
To flatter's Loue he sung; he strives to play,
And hisses forth a well tun'd Roundelay.
This wakes the Nymph; her eyes admit the day;
Here flowers, and there her scatter'd garlands lay,
Which as shee picks up and with bents retyes,
Shee in her lap the speckled Serpent spyes.
The Nymph no signe of any terrour shows,
(How bold is beauty when her strength shee knows!)
And in her hand the tender worm shee grasp'd,
While it sometimes about her finger clasp'd
A ring enamel'd, then her tender wast
In manner of a girdleround imbrac't;
And now upon her arme a braslet hung,
Where for the greater ornament, he flung
His limber body into severall folds,
And twenty winding figures, where it holds
Her amorous pulse, in many a various twist,
And many a love-knot tyes upon her wrist.
Lycoris to the Gods thou art too deare,
And too too much of heaven belov'd I feare.
[Page 14]This or that Nymph's the red-sea spoiles may be,
But Lybia ne're sent Iewels but to thee.
What e're to us are deaths and poysons sent,
Desire to be Lycoris ornament.
For that same litle spider that hangs up,
Together with her web on the house top,
When shee beheld the snake a bracelet made,
Struck with an envy, and a love; shee said,
And shall a snake thy Gemme Lycoris bee,
And such bright for me receive no tyres from mee?
Then flings her nets away, and throwing by
Her subtle toyl shee sets to catch the fly;
To th'loom Arachne goes, and plyes it there,
To work a robe for my Lycoris weare.
But thou, ô Serpent, which so blest canst bee
To reap those joyes for which I envy thee:
That, happy worm, upon her lip hast hung,
Sucking in kisses with thy three-fork'd tongue,
(So may'st thou age and skin together cast,
And oft recall thy youth, when it is past.)
Teach my Lycoris what your Arts may bee,
Let her th' Ingredients of thy Cordials see.
That shee may ne're grow old, that times dull plow
May never print a wrincle in her brow.
I charge thee in the pow'rfull Cupids name
May a new beauty alwayes and the same
Lycoris shew, ne're may shee in her glasse
Look for her own, and find another face.
Venus for beauty may shee then appear,
When shee has liv'd to old Sybilla's year,
[Page 15]And when, deare snake, thou wilt no more renew
Thy youthfull vigour, bid base earth adiew.
Adde glory to the night, or from his spheare
Huge Python pull and fix thy torches there:
Where like a river thou shalt bending go,
And through the Orbe a starry torrent flow.
And thou Lycoris, when th' art pleas'd to take
No more of life, next thy beloved Snake
Shine forth a constellation, full, and bright;
Blesse the poor heavens with more majestick light.
Who in requitall shall present you there,
Ariadnes Crown, and Cassiopae as Chayr.

A complaint against Cupid that he never made him in Love.

HOw many of thy Captives (Love) complaine
Thou yoak'st thy slaves in too severe a chaine?
I'have heard 'em their Poetique malice shew,
To curse thy Quiver, and blaspheme thy bow.
Calling thee boy, and blind; threatning the rod;
Prophanely swearing that thou art no God.
Or if thou be; not from the starry place;
But born below, and of the Stygian race.
But yet these Atheists that thy shafts dislike,
Thou canst be freindly to, and daigne to strike.
This on his Cloris spends his thoughts and time;
That chaunts Corinna in his amorous rime.
[Page 16]A third speaks raptures, and hath gaind a wit
By praising Caelia; else had mis't of it.
But I that think there can no freedom be,
(Cupid) so sweet, as thy Captivity.
I that could wish thy chains, and live content
To wear them, not my Gives, but ornament:
I that could any ransom pay to thee,
Not to redeem, but sell my liberty;
I am neglected; let the cause be known;
Art thou a niggard of thy arrows grown,
That wert so prodigall? or dost thou please
To set thy Pillars up with Hercules
Weary of conquest? or should I disgrace
Thy victories, if I were daign'd a place
Amongst thy other Trophies? none of these,
Witnesse thy dayly triumphs: who but sees
Thou still pursuest thy game from high to low;
No age, no Sexe can scape thy pow'rfull bow.
Decrepite age whose veins and bones may bee
An Argument against Philosophy,
To prove an emptinesse; that has no sense
Left but his feeling, feels thy influence;
And dying dotes: not babes thy shafts can misse;
How quickly Infants can be taught to kisse!
As the poor Apes being dumb these words would bor­row,
I' was born to day to get a babe to morrow.
Each plow-man thy propitious wounds can prove,
Tilling the earth, and wishing t'were his love.
Am I invulnerable? is the dart
Rebeaten, which thou level'st at my heart?
[Page 17]Ill rest my Parents bones, if they have done
As Tethis once did to her God-like sonne
The great Archilles, dipt in Stygian lake;
Though I am so, Cupid, thy arrows take,
Try where I am not proof, and let me feel
Thy 'archery, if not i'th heart, i'th heel.
Perchance my heart lyes there; who would not be
A Coward, to be valiant made by thee.
I cannot say thy blindnesse is the cause,
That I am barr'd the freedom of thy laws;
The wretched out-Law of thy Mothers Court,
That place of comfort, Paradise of sport.
For they may say, that say thou blind canst be,
Eagles want eyes, and only moles can see.
Not Argus with so many lights did shine,
For each fair Ladies sparkling eyes are thine.
Think'st thou because I doe the Muses love,
I in thy Camp would a faint souldier prove?
How came Musaeus, and Anacreon then
Into thy troops? how came Tibullus pen
Amongst thy spears; and how came Ovid (say)
To be enrold great Generall in thy pay?
And doubts thou me? suspect you I will tell
The hidden misteries of your Paphian cell,
To the straight lac'd Diana? or betray
The secrets of the night, unto the day?
No Cupid, by thy mothers doves I swear,
And by her sparrows, 'tis an idle fear.
If Philomel descend to sport with me;
Know I can be (great Love) as dumb as shee,
[Page 18]Though shee hath lost her tongue; in such delights
All should be like her, only talk by nights:
Make me thy Preist (if Poets truth divine)
I'le make the Muses wanton; at thy shrine
They all shall wait; and Dian's selfe shall be
A votresse to thy Mothers Nunnerie.
Where zeale with nature shall maintaine no strife;
Where none swear chastity, and single life.
To Venus-Nuns an easier oath is read,
Shee breaks her vow, that keeps her maiden head.
Reject not then your Flamin's ministry:
Let me but deacon in thy Temples be:
And see how I shall touch my pow'rfull lyre,
And more inspir'd with thine, then Phoebus fire,
Chaunt such a moving verse, as soon should frame
Desire of dalliance in the coyest dame;
Melting to amorous thoughts her heart of stone;
And force her to untrusse her Virgin Zone.
Is Lucrece, or Penelope alive?
Give me a Spartan Matron, Sabine wife;
Or any of the vestals hither call,
And I will make them be thy converts all.
Who like good Proselites more in heart then show,
Shall to thy origies all so zealous go,
That Thais shall, nor Helen such appeare;
As if they only Loves precisians were.
But now my Muse dull heavy numbers sings,
Cupid 'tis thou alone giv'st verse her wings.
The Lawrell-wreath I never shall obtaine,
Vnlesse thy torch illuminate my braine.
[Page 19]Love Laurell gives; Phoebus as much can say,
Had not he lov'd, there had not been the Bay.
Why is my Presentation then put by?
Who is't that my Induction dares deny?
Can any Lady say I am unfit?
If so, I'le sue my Quare Impedit.
I'am young enough, my spirits quick and good;
My veins swell high with kind and active blood.
Nor am I marble; when I see an eye
Quick, bright, and full, 'raid round with maiestie;
I feel my heart with a strange heat opprest,
As 'twere a lightning darted through my brest.
I long not for the cherries on the Tree,
So much as those which on a lip I see.
And more affection beare I to the Rose
That in a cheek, then in a garden grows.
I gaze on beauteous Virgins with delight,
And feel my temper vary at the sight;
I know not why; but warmer streams doe glide
Thorough my veins, sure 'tis a wanton tide.
But you perchance esteem my love the lesse,
Because I have a foolish bashfulnesse,
A shame-fac'd rose you find within my face,
Whose modest blush frights you from my embrace;
That's ready now to fall, if you'le but daigne
To pluck it once, it shall not grow againe.
Or doe you therefore cast my love away,
Because I am not expert in the play?
My skill's not known till it be ventred on;
I have not Aristotle read alone.
[Page 20]I am in Ovid a proficient too;
And if you'd heare my Lecture, could to you
Analize all his art, with so much more
Iudgment and skill, then e're 'twas taught before.,
That I might be cheife master, he, dull foole,
The under usher in the Cyprian Schoole:
For petty Paedagogue, poore Pedant, he
First writ the Art, and then the remedie:
But I could set downe rules of love so sure,
As should exceed Art, and admit no cure.
Pictures I could invent (Love, were I thine)
As might stand copies unto Aretine▪
And such new dalliance study, as should frame
Variety in that which is the same.
I am not then uncapable (great Love)
Would'st thou my skill but with one arrow prove.
Giue me a Mistresse in whose looks to joy,
And such a Mistresse (Love) as will be coy,
Not easily wonne, though to be wonne in time;
That from her nicenesse I may store my rhime:
Then in a Thousand sighes, to thee I'le pay
My Morning Orisons, and every day
Two Thousand groans, and count these amorous pray­ers
I make to thee, not by my Beads, but Teares.
Besides, each day I'le write an Elegy,
And in as lamentable Poetry
As any Inns of Court-man, that hath gone
To buy an Ovid with a Littleton.
But (Love) I see you will not entertaine
Those that desire to Live amidst your traine;
[Page 21]For death and you have got a trick to fly
From such poore wretches as doe wish you nigh.
You scorne a yeelding slave; and plainly shew it,
Those that contemne your pow'er you make to know it.
And such am I; I slight your proud commands;
I mar'le who put a bow into your hands;
A hobby-horse, or some such pretty toy,
A rattle would befit you better, Boy.
You conquer Gods and men? how stand I free,
That will acknowledge no supremacie
Vnto your childish Godhead? does it cry?
Give it a plumme to still it's Diety.
Good Venus let it suck; that it may keep
Lesse bawling; gentle Nurse rock it a sleep.
Or if you be past babie; and are now
Come to weare breeches, much we then allow
Your Boy ship leave to shoot at whom you please?
No, whip it for such wanton tricks as these:
If this doe anger you, I'le send a Bee,
Shall to a single duell challenge thee:
And make you to your Mam run, and complaine
The litlle serpent stung thee once againe.
Go hunt the butter flyes, and if you can
But catch 'em, make their wings into a fan.
Wee'le give you leave to hunt and sport at them,
So you let men alone.—But I blaspheme
(Great Love) I feare I have offended thee,
If so, be mercifull, and punish me.

A gratulatory to Mr Ben. Iohnson for his adopting of him to be his Son.

I Was not borne to Helicon, nor dare
Presume to thinke my selfe a Muses heire.
I have no title to Parnassus hill,
Nor any acre of it by the will
Of a dead Ancestour, nor could I bee
Ought but a tenant unto Poëtrie.
But thy Adoption quits me of all feare,
And makes me challenge a childs portion there.
I am a kinne to Hero's being thine,
And part of my alliance is divine.
Orpheus, Musaeus, Homer too; beside
Thy Brothers by the Roman Mothers side;
As Ovid, Virgil, and the Latine Lyre,
That is so like thy Horace; the whole quire
Of Poets are by thy Adoption, all
My uncles; thou hast given me pow'r to call
Phoebus himselfe my grandsire; by this graunt
Each Sister of the nine is made my Aunt.
Go you that reckon from a large descent
Your lineall Honours, and are well content
To glory in the age of your great name,
Though on a Herralds faith you build the same:
I do not envy you, nor thinke you blest
Though you may beare a Gorgon on your Crest
By direct line from Perseus; I will boast
[Page 23]No farther then my Father; that's the most
I can, or should be proud of; and I were
Vnworthy his adoption, if that here
I should be dully modest; boast I must
Being sonne of his Adoption, not his lust.
And to say truth, that which is best in mee
May call you father, 'twas begot by thee.
Have I a sparke of that coelestiall flame
Within me, I confesse I stole the same
Prometheus like, from thee; and may I feed
His vulture, when I dare deny the deed.
Many more moones thou hast, that shine by night,
All Bankrups, wer't not for a borrow'd light;
Yet can forsweare it; I the debt confesse,
And thinke my reputation ne're the lesse.
For Father let me be resolv'd by you;
Is't a disparagement from rich Peru
To ravish gold; or theft, for wealthy Ore
To ransack Tagus, or Pactolus shore?
Or does he wrong Alcinous, that for want
Doth take from him a sprig or two, to plant
A lesser Orchard? sure it cannot bee:
Nor is it theft to steale some flames from thee,
Grant this, and I'le cry guilty, as I am,
And pay a filiall reverence to thy name.
For when my Muse upon obedient knees,
Askes not a Fathers blessing, let her leese
The fame of this Adoption; 'tis a curse
I wish her 'cause I cannot thinke a worse.
And here, as Piety bids me, I intreat
[Page 24] Phoebus to lend thee some of his own heat,
To cure thy Palsie; else I will complaine
He has no skill in hearbs; Poets in vaine
Make him the God of Physicke; 'twere his praise
To make thee as immortall as thy Baies;
As his owne Daphne; 'twere a shame to see
The God, not love his Preist, more then his Tree.
But if heaven take thee, envying us thy Lyre,
'Tis to pen Anthems for an Angels quire.

In Lesbiam, & Histrionem.

I Wonder what should Madam Lesbia meane
To keep young Histrio, and for what scene
So bravely shee maintaines him; that what sence
He please to blesse, 'tis done at her expence!
The play-boy spends secure; he shall have more;
As if both Indies did supply his store.
As if he did in bright Pactolus swim,
Or Tagus yellow waves did water him:
And yet has no revenews to defray
These charges, but the Madam, shee must pay
His prodigall disbursments: Madams are
To such as he, more then a treble share.
Shee payes (which is more then shee needs to doe)
For her owne comming in, and for his too.
This is reward due to the sacred sin;
No charge too much done to the beardlesse chin:
[Page 25]Allthough shee stint her poore old Knight Sr Iohn,
To live upon his exhibition,
His hundred marks per Annum; when her Ioy,
Her sanguine darling, her spruce active boy
May scatter Angels; rub out filks, and shine
In cloths of gold; cry loud the world is mine:
Keepe his Race-nags, and in Hide-parke be seen
Briske as the best (as if the stage had been
Grownethe Court's Rivall) can to Brackly goe,
To Lincolne Race, and to New-market too;
At each of these his hundred pounds has vie'd
On Peggabrigs, or Shotten-herrings side;
And looses without swearing. Let them curse
That neither have a Fortunatus purse,
Nor such a Madam; if this world doe hold
(As very likely 'twill) Madams growne old
Will be the best Monopolies; Histrio may
At Maw, or Gleeke, or at Primero play.
Still Madam goes to stake; Histrio knows
Her worth, and therefore dices too; and goes
As deepe, the Caster, as the only Sonne
Of a dead Alderman, come to twenty one
A whole weeke since; you'd know the reason why
Lesbia does this; guesse you as well as I;
Then this I can no better reason tell;
'Tis 'cause he playes the womans part so well.
I see old Madams are not only toyle;
No tilth so fruitfull as a barren soyle.
Ah poore day labourers, how I pitty you
That shrinke, and sweat to live with much adoe!
[Page 26]When had you wit to understand the right,
'Twere better wages to have work'd by night.
Yet some that resting here, doe only thinke
That youth with age is an unequall linke:
Conclude, that Histrio's taske as hard must bee,
As was Mezentius bloody cruelty.
Who made the living to embrace the dead,
And so expire: but I am rather lead
His bargaine of the two the best to call;
He at one game keeps her, shee him at all

De Histrice. Ex Claudiano.

FAm'd Stymphall, I have heard, thy birds in flight
Shoot showers of arrowes forth all levied right.
And long the fable of those quills of steele
Did seeme to me a tale incredible.
Now have I faith; the Porcupine I see,
And then th' Herculean birds no wonders bee.
Her longer head like a swines snowt doth show;
Bristles like hornes upon her forehead grow.
A fiery heat glows from her flaming eye;
Vnder her shaggy back the shape doth lye
As 'twere a whelpe: nature all Art hath try'd
In this small beast, so strangely fortified.
A threatning wood o're all her body stands;
And stiff with Pikes the spectled stalks in bands
Grow to the warre; while under those doth rise
[Page 27]An other troope, girt with alternate dyes
Of severall hue; which while a blacke doth fill
The inward space, ends in a solid quill.
That lessning by degrees, doth in a while,
Take a quick point, and sharpens to a Pile.
Nor doth her squadrons like the hedghogs stand
Fixt; but shee darts them forth, and at command
Farre of her members aimes; shot through the skie
From her shak'd side the Native Engines flie.
Sometimes retiring, Farthian like, shee'l wound
Her following foe; sometimes in trenching round,
In battaile forme, marshalling all her flanks,
Shee'l clash her javelins to aff right the ranks
Of her poore enemies: lineing every side
With speares, to which shee is her selfe allied.
Each part of her's a souldier, from her back
But stir'd, a horse and horrid noise doth crack;
That one would think the trumpets did incite
Two adverse Armies to begin to fight;
So great a noise, from one so small did rise.
Then to her skill in Armes shee is so wise
As to adde Policy, and a thrifty feare
Of her owne safety; shee a wrath doth beare
Not prodigall of weapons, but content
With wary threatning; and hath seldome sent
An arrow forth, caus'd by an idle strife,
But spends 'em only to secure her life!
And then her diligent stroke so certaine is
Without all error, shee will seldome misse.
No distance cozens her; the dumbe skin aimes right,
[Page 28]And rules the levy of the skillfull sight.
What humane labour, though we boast it such,
Withall her reason can performe so much?
They from the Cretan Goats their hornes must take;
And after, those with fire must softer make.
Buls guts must bend their bows; and e're they fight
Steele armes their darts; and fethers wing their flights.
When loe a little beast wee armed see
With nothing but her owne Artillery:
Who seeks no for raine aide; with her all goe,
Shee to her selfe is Quiver, darts, and bow.
One Creature all the Arts of warfare knows;
If from examples then the Practice flows
Of humane life; hence did th' Invention grow
At distance to incounter with our foe.
Hence the Cydoniaus instructed are
Their Stratagems, and manner of their warre.
Hence did the Parthians learne to fight, and fly;
Taught by this bird their skilfull Archery.

In Archimedis Sphaeram ex Claudiano.

IOve saw the Heavens fram'd in a little glasse,
And laughing, to the Gods these words did passe;
Comes then the power of mortall cares so farre?
In brittle Orbes my labours acted are.
The statutes of the Poles, the faith of things,
The Laws of Gods this Syracusian brings
[Page 29]Hither by art: Spirits inclos'd attend
Their severall spheares, and with set motions bend
The living worke: Each yeare the faigned Sun,
Each Month returnes the counterfeited Moon;
And viewing now her world, bold Industrie
Grows proud, to know the heavens her subjects bee.
Beleive Salmonius hath false thunders thrown,
For a poore hand is Natures rivall grown.

De Magnete. Ex Claudiano.

WHo in the world with busy reason pryes,
Searching the seed of things, & there descryes
With what defect labours th' Ecclipsed moon,
What cause commands a palenesse in the Sun,
Whence ruddy comets with their fatall haire,
Whence winds doe flow, and what the Motions are
That shake the bowels of the trembling earth;
What strikes the lightning forth; whence clouds give birth
To horrid thunders; and doth also know
What light lends lustre to the painted Bow:
If ought of truth his soule doth understand,
Let him resolve a question I'le demand:
There is a stone which we the loadstone stile,
Of colour ugly, darke, obscure, and vile:
It never deck'd the sleiked locks of Kings,
No Ornament, no gorgeous Tire it brings
To Virgins beauteous necks, it never showne
[Page 30]A splendent buckle in ther maiden Zone:
But only heare the wonders I will tell
Of his black peeble, and 'twill then excell
All bracelets, and what e're the diving Moore
'Mongst the red weeds seeks for 'ith Easterne shore:
From Iron first it lives, Iron it eats,
But that sweet feast it knows no other meats;
Thence shee renews her strength, vigor is sent
Through all her nerves by that hard nourishment;
Without that food shee dies, a famine numm's
Her meager joynts, a thirst her veins consumes.
Mars that frights Cities with his bloody speares,
And Venus that releases humane feares,
Doe both together in one Temple shine,
Both joyntly honour'd in a common shrine;
But different Statues, Mars a steele put on,
And Venus figure was Magnetique stone.
To them (as is the custome every yeare)
The Preist doth celebrate a Nuptiall there.
The torch the Quire doth lead, the threshold's green
With hallowed Mirtles, and the beds are seen
To smell with rosy flowers, the Geniall sheet
Spred over with a purple Coverlet.
But heare (ô strange) the statues seem'd to move,
And Cytherea runs to catch her Love;
And like their former joyes in heaven possest,
With wanton heat clings to her Mars'es brest;
There hangs a gratefull burden; then shee throwes
Her armes about his helmet, to Inclose
Her Love in amorous Gives, least he get out,
[Page 31]Here live embraces chaine him round about.
He stir'd with love breath'd gently through his veins,
Is drawne by unseene links and secret chaines
To meet his spoused Gemme; the ayre doth wed
The steele unto the stone; thus strangely led
The Deities their stolne delights replay'd,
And only Nature was the bridall mayd.
What heat in these two Metals did inspire
Such mutuall league? what concords powrefull fire
Contracted their hard minds? the stone doth move
With amorous heat, the steele doth learne to love.
So Venus oft the God of warre withstood,
And gives him milder looks; when hot with blood
He rages to the fight, fierce with desire,
And with drawn points whets up his active Ire;
She dares goe forth alone, and boldly meet
His foaming steeds, and with a winning greet
The tumour of his high swolne breast aff wage,
Tempring with gentle flames his violent rage.
Peace courts his foule, the fight he disavows,
And his red plumes he now to kisses bows.
Ah cruell Boy large thy dominions bee,
The Gods and all their Thunders yeild to thee:
Great Iove to leave his heaven thou can'st constraine,
And midst the brinish waves to Lowe againe.
Now the cold Rocks thou striks't, the sencelesse stone
Thy weapon feeles, a lustfull heat doth runne
Through veins of flint, the steele thy Pow'er can taine;
And rigid Marble must admit thy flame.

De Sene Veronensi. Ex Claudiano.

HAppy the man that all his dayes hath spent
Within his owne grounds, and no farther went:
Whom the same house that did him erst behold
A little Infant, sees him now grown old,
That with his staffe walkes where he crawl'd before,
Counts th' age of one poore cottage and no more.
Fortune ne're him with various tumult prest,
Nor dranke he unknown streams, a wandring guest.
He fear'd no Merchants stormes, nor drummes of war,
Nor ever knew the strifes of the hoarse Bar.
Who though to th' next Towne he a stranger bee,
Yet heav'ns sweet prospect he injoyes more free.
From fruits, not Consuls, computation brings,
By Apples Autumnes knows, by flowers the springs.
Thus he the day by his owne orbe doth prize;
In the same feild his Sunne doth set and rise.
That knew an oake a twigge, and walking thither
Beholds a wood and he grown up together.
Neighbou'ring Veron he may for India take,
And thinke the red sea is Benacus lake.
Yet is his [...] untam'd, and firme his knees,
Him the third age a lusty Grandsire sees.
Goe seeke whos' will the farre Iberian shore,
This man hath liv'd, though that hath travel'd more.

The second Epod: of Horace translated.

HAppy the man which farre from city care;
(Such as ancient Mortals were)
With his own oxen plows his fathers land,
Free from Vsurers griping hand.
The souldiers trumpets never breake his sleepe,
Nor angry seas that raging keepe.
He shunnes the wrangling Hall, nor foot doth set
On the proud thresholds of the Great:
His life is this (O life almost divine)
To marry Elmes unto the Vine;
To prune unfruitfull branches, and for them
To graft a bough of happier stemme.
Or else within the low couch'd vallies views
His well cloth'd floc'ks of bleating ewes.
Sometimes his hony he in pots doth keepe,
Sometimes he sheares his fleecy sheepe.
And when his fruits with Autumne ripened bee
Gathers his Apples from the Tree.
And joyes to tast the peares himselfe did plant,
And Grapes that naught of purple want.
Vnder an Oake sometimes he layes his head,
Making the tender grasse his bed.
Meane while the streams along their banks doe float,
And birds doe chaunt with warbling throat;
And gentle springs a gentle murmure keepe,
To lull him to a quiet sleepe.
[Page 34]When winter comes, and th' ayre doth chiller grow,
Threatning showers and shivering snow;
Either with hounds he hunts the tusked swine
That foe unto the corne and vine;
Or layes his nets; or limes the unctuous bush
To catch the blackbird, or the thrush.
Sometimes the Hare he courses, and one way
Makes both a pleasure and a prey.
But if with him a modest wife doth meet,
To guide his house and children sweet;
Such as the Sabine or Apulean wife,
Something brown but chast of life;
Such as will make a good warme fire to burne,
Against her wearied Mate's returne;
And shutting in her stalls her fruitfull Neat,
Will milke the kines distended Teat:
Fetching her husband of her selfe-brew'd beere,
And other wholesome Country cheere.
Suppe him with bread and cheese, Pudding or Pye,
Such dainties as they doe not buy:
Give me but these, and I shall never care
Where all the Lucrine oisters are;
These wholsome Country dainties shall to mee
Sweet as Tench or Sturgeon bee.
Had I but these I well could be without
The Carp, the Sammon, or the Trout:
Nor should the Phoenix selfe so much delight
My not ambitious appetite,
As should an Apple snatch'd from mine own trees,
Or hony of my labouring Bees.
[Page 35]My Cattels udders should afford me food,
My sheep my cloth, my ground my wood.
Sometimes a lambe, snatch'd from the wolfe shall bee
A banquet for my freind and mee.
Sometimes a Calfeta'ne from her lowing Cow,
Or tender Issue of the Sow.
Our Gardens sallets yeild, Mallows to keepe
Loose bodies, Lettice for to sleepe.
The cakling Hen an egge for breakfast layes,
And Duck that in our water playes.
The Goose for us her tender plumes hath bred
To lay us on a softer bed.
Our blankets are not dy'd with Orphans teares,
Our Pillows are not stuff'd with cares.
To walke on our owne grounds a stomack gets,
The best of sawce to tart out meats.
In midst of such a feast, 'tis joy to come
And see the well fed Lambs at home.
'Tis pleasure to behold th' inversed Plow
The Languid necks of Oxen bow.
And view th' industrious servants that will sweat
Both at labour and at meat.
Lord grant me but enough; I aske no more
Then will serve mine, and helpe the poore.

An Elegie upon the Lady Venetia Digby.

DEath, who'ld not change prerogatives with thee,
That dost such rapes, yet mayst not question'd bee
Here cease thy wanton lust, be satisfi'd,
Hope not a second, and so faire a bride.
Where was her Mars, whose valiant armes did hold
This Venus once, that thou durst be so bold
By thy too nimble theft? I know 'twas feare,
Lest he should come, that would have rescu'd her.
Monster confesse, didst thou not blushing stand,
And thy pale cheeke turne red to touch her hand?
Did shee not lightning-like strike suddaine heat
Through thy cold limbs, and thaw thy frost to sweat?
Well since thou hast her, use her gently, Death,
And in requitall of such pretious breath
Watch sentinell to guard her, doe not see
The wormes thy rivals, for the Gods will bee.
Remember Paris, for whose pettier sin,
The Troian gates let the stout Grecians in;
So when time ceases, (whose unthrifty hand
Ha's now almost consum'd his stock of sand)
Myriads of Angels shall in Armies come,
And fetch (proud ravisher) there Helen home.
And to revenge this rape, thy other store
Thou shalt resigne too, and shalt steale no more.
Till then faire Ladies (for you now are faire,
[Page 37]But till her death I fear'd your just dispaire,)
Fetch all the spices that Arabia yeelds,
Distill the choycest flowers of the fields:
And when in one their best perfections meet
Embalme her course, that shee may make them sweet.
Whilst for an Epitaph upon her stone
I cannot write, but I must weepe her one.
Beauty it selfe lyes here, in whom alone,
Each part injoy'd the same perfection.
In some the Eyes we praise; in some the Haire;
In her the Lips; in her the Cheeks are faire;
That Nymphs fine Feet, her Hands we beauteous call,
But in this forme we praise no part, but all.
The ages past have many beauties showne,
And I more plenty in our time have knowne;
But in the age to come I looke for none,
Nature despaires, because her pattern's gone.

An Epitaph upon Mrs I. T.

REader if thou hast a teare,
Thou canst not choose but pay it here.
Here lyes modesty, meeknesse, zeale,
Goodnesse, Piety, and to tell
Her worth at once, one that had showne
All vertues that her sex could owne.
Nor dare my praise too lavish bee,
[Page 38]Least her dust blush for soe would shee.
Hast thou beheld in the spring's bowers
Tender buds breake to bring forth flowers:
So to keepe vertues stock, pale death
Tooke her to give her infant breath.
Thus her accounts were all made even,
Shee rob'd not earth to adde to heaven.

An Epithalamium.

MVse be a bride-maid, dost not heare
How honoured Hunt and his faire Deere,
This day prepare their wedding cheere?
The swiftest of thy pinions take,
And hence a suddaine journey make,
To helpe 'em breake their bridall Cake.
Hast 'em to Church, tell 'em love sayes
Religion breeds but fond delayes,
To lengthen out the tedious dayes.
Childe the slow Preist, that so goes on,
As if he feard he should have done
His sermon, e're the glasse be runne.
Bid him post o're his words, as fast
As if himselfe were now to tast
[Page 39]The pleasure of so [...]aire a wast.
Now lead the blessed Couple home,
And serve a dinner up for some;
Their banquet is as yet to come.
Maids dance as nimbly as your blood,
Which I see swell a purple flood
In Emulation of that good.
The bride possesseth; for I deeme
What shee enjoyes will be the theme
This night of every virgins dreame.
But envy not their blest content,
The hasty night is almost spent,
And they of Cupid will be shent.
The Sunne is now ready to ride,
Sure 'twas the morning I espide,
Or 'twas the blushing of the bride.
See how the lusty bridegrooms veins
Swell, till the active torrent strains
To breake those o're stretcht azure chains.
And the faire bride ready to cry
To see her pleasant losse so nigh,
Pants like the sealed Pigeons eye.
Put out the torch, Love lovesno lights,
[Page 40]Those that performe his misticke rites
Must pay their Orisons by nights.
Nor can that sacrifice be done
By any Priest, or Nun alone,
But when they both are met in one.
Now you that tast of Hymens cheere,
See that your lips doe meet so neare,
That Cockels might be tutor'd there;
And let the whisprings of your love
Such short and gentle murmurs prove,
As they were Lectures to the dove.
And in such strict embraces twine
As if you read unto the Vine,
The, Ivy and the Columbine.
Then let your mutuall bosomes beat,
Till they create by virtuall heat
Mirrhe, Balme, and spikenard in a sweat.
Thence may there spring many a paire
Of Sonnes and Daughters strong and faire:
How soone the Gods have heard my praier!
Me thinks already I espy
The cradles rock, the babies cry,
And drousy Nurses Lullaby.

An Epitaph upon his honour'd friend Mr Warre.

HEre lyes the knowing head, the honest heart,
Faire blood, and courteous hands, and every part
Of gentle Warre, all with one stone content,
Though each deserv'd a severall monument.
He was (beleive me Reader) for 'tis rare
Virtuous though young, and learned though an heire.
Not with his Blood, or Natures gifts content
He paid them both their tribute which they lent.
His ancestors in him fixed their pride,
So with him all reviv'd, with him all dyed.
This made death lingring come, asham'd to bee
At once the ruine of a familie.
Learne Reader here, though long thy line hath stood,
Time breeds consumptions in the noblest blood.
Learne (Reader) here to what our Glories come,
Here's no distinction 'twixt the House and Toombe.

Vpon the losse of his little finger.

ARithmetique nine digits, and no more
Admits of, then I still have all my store.
For what mischance hath tane from my left hand,
It seemes did only for a Cipher stand.
But this I'le say for thee departed joynt,
Thou wert not given to steale, nor pick, nor point
[Page 42]At any in disgrace; but thou didst go
Vntimely to thy Death only to show
The other members what they once must doe;
Hand, arme, legge, thigh, and all must follow too.
Oft didst thou scan my verse, where if I misse
Henceforth I will impute the cause to this.
A fingers losse (I speake it not in sport)
Will make a verse a Foot too short.
Farewell deare finger, much I greive to see
How soone mischance hath made a Hand of thee.

On the Passion of Christ.

WHat rends the temples vail, wher is day gone?
How can a generall darknesse cloud the Sun?
Astrologers their skill in vaine doe try;
Nature must needs be sick, when God can dye.

Necessary observations.

1 Precept.
FIrst worship God, he that forgets to pray
Bids not himselfe good morrow nor good day.
Let thy first labour be to purge thy sin;
And serve him first, whence all things did begin.
2 Pre.
Honour thy Parents to prolong thine end,
[Page 43]With them though for a truth doe not contend.
Though all should truth defend, doe thou loose rather
The truth a while, then loose their Loves for ever.
Who ever makes his fathers heart to bleed,
Shall have a child that will revenge the deed.
3 Pre.
Thinke that is just; 'tis not enough to doe,
Vnlesse thy very thoughts are upright too.
4 Pre.
Defend the truth, for that who will not dye,
A coward is, and gi [...]s himselfe the lye.
5 Pre.
Honour the King, as sonnes their Parents doe,
For he's thy Father, and thy Country's too.
6 Pre.
A freind is gold; if true heele never leave thee,
Yet both without a touchstone may deceive thee.
7 Pre.
Suspicious men thinke others false, but hee
Cozens himselfe that will too credulous bee.
For thy freinds sake, let no suspect be shown;
And shun to be too credulous for thine own.
8 Pre.
Take well what e're shall chance, though bad it bee;
Take it for good, and 'twill be so to thee.
9 Pre.
Swear not: An oath is like a dangerous dart
Which shot rebounds to strike the shooters heart.
10 Pre.
The law's the path of life; then that obey,
[Page 44]Who keeps it not, hath wandring lost his way.
11 Pre.
Thanke those that doe thee good, so shalt thou gaine
Their second helpe, if thou shouldst need againe.
12 Pre.
To doubtfull matters doe not headlong run;
What's well left off, were better not begun.
13 Pre.
Be well advis'd, and wary counsell make,
E're thou dost any action undertake.
Having undertaken, thy endeauours bend
To bring thy Action to a perfect end.
14 Pre.
Safe in thy brest close lock up thy Intents;
For he that knows thy purpose, best prevents.
15 Pre.
To tell thy miseries will no comfort breed,
Men helpe thee most that thinke thou hast no need.
But if the world once thy misfortunes know,
Thou soone shalt loose a freind, and find a foe.
16 Pre.
Keepe thy freinds goods; for should thy wants bee known,
Thou canst not tell but they may be thine own.
17 Pre.
To gather wealth through fraud doe not presume,
A little evill got will much consume.
18 Pre.
First thinke, and if thy thoughts approve thy will
Then speake, and after what thou speakst fulfill.
19 Pre.
Spare not, nor spend too much; be this thy care,
Spare but to spend, and only spend to spare.
Who spends too much may want, and so complaine.
But he spends best that spares to spend againe.
20 Pre.
If with a stranger thou discourse first learne
By strictest observations to discerne,
If he be wiser then thy selfe; if so
Be dumbe, and rather choose by him to know.
But if thy selfe perchance the wiser bee,
Then doe thou speake that he may learne by thee,
21 Pre.
If thou dispraise a man let no man know,
By any circumstance that he's thy foe:
If men but once find that, they 'l quickly see
Thy words from hate, and not from judgment bee.
If thou wouldst tell his vice, doe what you can
To make the world believe thou lov'st the man.
22 Pre.
Reprove not in their wrath incensed men,
Good councell comes cleane out of season then.
But when his fury is appeas'd and past,
He will conceive his fault and men at last.
When he is coole, and calme then utter it;
No man gives Physick in the midst oth' Fit.
23 Pre.
Seeme not too conscious of thy worth, nor be
The first that knows thy own sufficiency.
If to thy King and Country thy true care
[Page 46]More serviceable is then others are.
That blaze in court, and every Action sway
As if the Kingdome on their shoulders lay.
Or if thou serv'st a master, and dost see
Others prefer'd of lesse Desert then thee.
Doe not complaine though such a Plaint be true,
Lords will not give their Favours as a Due.
But rather stay and hope: it cannot bee
But men at last must needs thy vertues see.
So shall thy trust endure and greater grow,
Whilst they that are above thee, fall below.
24 Pre.
Desire not thy meane-fortunes for to set
Next to the stately Mannors of the Great.
He will suspect thy labours, and oppresse,
Fearing thy greatnesse makes his wealth the lesse.
Great ones doe love no Aequals: But must bee
Aboue the Termes of all comparitie.
Such a rich Neighbour is compared best
To the great Pike that eats up all the rest.
Or else like Pharaohs Cow, that in an houre
Will seaven of his fattest freinds devoure.
Or like the sea whose vastnesse swallows cleane
All other streams, though no encrease be seene.
Live by the Poore, they doe the Poore no harme;
So Bees thrive best when they together swarme.
Rich men are Bears, and Poore men ought to feare 'em
Like ravenous wolfes; 'tis dangerous living neare 'em.
25 Pre.
Each man three Divels hath selfe borne afflictions;
[Page 47]Th' unruly Tongue, the Belly, and Affections.
Charme these, such holy Conjurations can
Gaine thee the friendship both of God and man.
26 Pre.
So liue with man as if Gods curious eye,
Did every where into thine Actions prie.
For never yet was sinne so void of sence,
So fully fac'd with brazen Impudence.
As that it durst before mens eyes commit
Their beastly lusts, least they should witnesse it.
How dare they then offend, when God shall see,
That must alone both Iudge and Iury bee.
27 Pre.
Take thou no care how to deferre thy death,
And give more respit to this Mortall breath.
Would'st thou live long? the only means are these
'Bove Galens diet, or Hippocrates.
Strive to live well; Tread in the upright wayes,
And rather count thy Actions then thy dayes,
Then thou hast liv'd enough amongst us here,
For every day well spent I count a yeare.
Live well, and then how soone so e're thou die,
Thou art of Age to claime Aeternitie.
But he that out lives Nestor, and appeares
T' have past the date of gray Mathusalem's yeares.
If he his life to sloth and sinne doth give,
I say he only Was, he did not Live.
28 Pre.
Trust not a man unknown he may deceive thee;
And doubt the man thou knowst for he may leave thee.
[Page 48]And yet for to prevent exceptions too,
'Tis best not seeme to doubt although you doe.
29 Pre.
Heare much but little speake, a wise man feares,
And will not use his tongue so much as eares.
The Tongue if it the hedge of Teeth doe breake
Will others shame, and its own Ruine speake.
I never yet did ever read of any
Vndone by hearing, but by speaking many.
The reason's this, the Eares if chast and holy,
Doe let in wit, the Tongue doth let out folly.
30 Pre.
To all alike be curteous, meeke, and kind,
A winning carriage with indifferent mind,
But not familiar, that must be exempt,
Groomes saucy love, soone turnes into contempt.
Be sure he be at least as good as thee,
To whom thy freindship shall familiar bee.
31 Pre.
Iudge not between two freinds, but rather see
If thou canst bring them freindly to agree.
So shalt thou both their Loves to thee encrease,
And gaine a Blessing too for making Peace;
But if thou should'st decide the cause i'th' end,
How e're thou judge thou sure shalt loose a freind.
32 Pre.
Thy credit wary keepe, 'tis quickly gone;
Being got by many Actions, lost by one,
33 Pre.
Vnto thy Brother buy not, sell, nor lend,
Such Actions have their own peculiar end;
[Page 49]But rather choose to give him, if thou see
That thou hast pow'er, and hee necessitie.
34 Pre.
Spare in thy youth, least Age should find thee poore
When time is past, and thou canst spare no more.
No coupl'd misery is so great in either,
As Age and Want when both doe meet together.
35 Pre.
Fly Dunkennesse, whose vile incontinence
Takes both away the reason and the sence.
Till with Circaean cups thy mind possest
Leaves to be man, and wholy turnes a Beast.
Thinke whilst thou swallowest the capacious Bowle,
Thou let'st in Seas to wrack and drown the soule.
That hell is open, to remembrance call,
And thinke how subject drunkards are to Fall.
Consider how it soone destroyes the grace
Of humane shape, spoyling the beauteous face.
Puffing the cheekes, blearing the curious eye,
Studding the face with vitious Heraldry.
What Pearles and Rubies doth the wine disclose,
Making the purse poore to enrich the Nose?
How does it nurse disease, infect the heart,
Drawing some sicknesse into every part!
The stomack overcloyd, wanting a vent
Doth up againe resend her excrement.
And then (ô see what too much wine can doe!)
The very soule being drunke spews secrets too.
The Lungs corrupted breath contagious ayre,
Belching up fumes that unconcocted are.
[Page 50]The Braine o'rewarm'd (loosing her sweet repose)
Doth purge her filthy ordure through the nose.
The veins doe boyle glutted with vitious food,
And quickly Fevers the distemper'd blood.
The belly swells, the foot can hardly stand
Lam'd with the Gout; the Palsie shakes the Hand.
And through the flesh sick waters sinking in,
Doe bladder-like puffe up the dropsi'd skin.
It weaks the Braine, it spoiles the memory;
Hasting on Age, and wilfull Poverty.
It drownes thy better parts; making thy name
To foes a laughter, to thy freinds a shame.
'Tis vertues poyson, and the bane of trust,
The match of wrath, the fuell unto lust.
Quite leave this vice, and turne not to't againe,
Vpon Presumption of a stronger braine.
For he that holds more wine then other can,
I rather count a Hogshead then a man.
36 Pre.
Let not thy Impotent lust so pow'rfull [...]ee
Over thy Reason, Soule, and Liberty,
As to enforce thee to a marryed life,
E're thou art able to maintaine a wife.
Thou canst not feed upon her lips and face
Shee cannot cloth thee with a poore imbrace.
My selfe being yet alone, and but one still,
With patience could endure the worst of ill.
When fortune frownes, one to the wars may goe
To fight against his foes, and fortunes too.
But (ô) the greife were trebled for to see▪
[Page 51]Thy wretched Bride halfe pin'd with Povertie.
To see thy Infants make their dumb complaint
And thou not able to releive their want.
The poorest begger when he's dead and gone,
Is rich as he that sits upon the Throne.
But he that having no estate is w [...]d,
Starves in his grave, being wretched when he's dead.
37 Pre.
If e're I take a wife I will have one
Neither for beauty nor for portion;
But for her vertues; and I'le married bee
Not for my lust, but for posteritie.
And when I am wed, I'le never iealous bee,
But make her learne how to be chast by mee.
And be her face what 'twill, I'le thinke her faire
If shee within the house confine her care.
If modest in her words and cloths shee bee,
Not daub'd with pride and prodigalitie.
If with her neighbours shee maintaines no strife,
And beare her selfe to me a faithfull wife;
I'de rather unto such a one be wed,
Then claspe the choicest Helen in my bed.
Yet though shee were an Angell my affection
Should only love, not dote on her perfection.

An Elegie.

LOve, give me leave to serve thee, and be wise
To keepe thy torch in, but restore blind eyes.
[Page 52]I will a flame into my bosome take,
That Martyrs Court when they embrace the stake:
Not dull, and smoakie fires, but heat divine,
That burnes not to consume, but to refine.
I have a Mistresse for perfections rare
In every eye, but in my thoughts most faire.
Like Tapers on the Altar shine her eyes;
Her breath is the perfume of Sacrifice.
And where soe're my fancy would begin,
Still her perfection lets religion in.
I touch her like my Beads with devout care;
And come unto my Courtship as my Praier.
Wee sit, and talke, and kisse away the houres,
As chastly as the morning dews kisse flowers.
Goe wanton Lover spare thy sighs and teares,
Put on the Livery which thy dotage weares,
And call it Love, where heresie gets in
Zeal's but a coale to kindle greater sin.
Wee weare no flesh, but one another greet,
As blessed soules in separation meet.
Wer't possible that my ambitious sin,
Durst commit rapes upon a Cherubin,
I might have lustfull thoughts to her, of all
Earths heav'nly Quire the most Angelicall.
Looking into my brest, her forme I find
That like my Guardian-Angell keeps my mind
From rude attempts; and when affections stirre,
I calme all passions with one thought of her.
Thus they whose reasons love, and not their sence,
The spirits love: thus one Intelligence
[Page 53]Reflects upon his like, and by chast loves
In the same spheare this and that Angell moves.
Nor is this barren Love; one noble thought
Begets an other, and that still is brought
To bed of more; vertues and grace increase,
And such a numerous issue ne're can cease.
Where Children, though great blessings, only bee
Pleasures repriv'd to some posteritie.
Beasts love like men, if men in lust delight,
And call that Love which is but appetite.
When essence meets with essence, and soules joyne
In mutuall knots, thats the true Nuptall twine:
Such Lady is my Love, and such is true;
All other Love is to your Sexe, not You.

An Apologie for his false Prediction that his Aunt Lane would be deliver'd of a Sonne.

The best Prophets are but good Guessers.
ARe then the Sibils dead? what is become
Of the lowd Oracles? are the Augurs dumbe?
Live not the Magi that so oft reveald
Natures intents? is Gipsisme quite repeald?
Is Friar Bacon nothing but a name?
Or is all witchcraft braind with Doctor Lambe?
Does none the learned Bungies soule inherit?
Has Madam Davers dispossest her spirit?
[Page 54]Or will the Welchmen give me leave to say
There is no faith in Merlin? none, though they
Dare sweare each letter creed, and pawne their blood
He prophecied, an age before the flood,
Of holy Dee; which was, as some have said,
Ten generations ere the Arke was made.
All your predictions but Impostures are,
And you but prophecy of things that were.
And you Coelestiall Iuglers that pretend
You are acquainted with the starres, and send
Your spyes to search what's done in every spheare,
Keeping your state intelligencers there.
Your art is all deceit; for now I see
Against the Rules of deepe Astrologie,
Girles may be got when Mars his power doth vaunt,
And boyes when Venus is Predominant.
Nor doth the Moone though moist and cold shee bee
Alwaies at full work to produce the shee:
Had this been true I had foretold no lie,
It was the Art was in the wrong, not I.
Thence I so dully err'd in my beleife,
As to mistake an Adam for an Eve:
O grosse mistake, and in the civill pleas
Error Personae, Mr Doctor sayes,
And may admit divorce, but farewell now
You hungry star-fed Tribe, hence forth I vow
Talmud, Albumazar, and Ptolomie,
With Erra▪Pater shall no Gospell bee.
Nor will I ever after this I sweare
Throw Dice upon the shepheards Calender.
[Page 55]But why doe I t' excuse my Ignorance
Lay blame upon the Art? no, no, perchance
I have lost all my skill: for well I know
My Physiognomie two years agoe
By the small Pox was mar'd, and it may bee
A fingers losse hath spoild my Palmistry.
But why should I a grosse mistake confesse [...]
No I am confident I did but guesse
The very truth: it was a male child then,
But Aunt you staid till 'twas a wench agen.
To see th' unconstancy of humane things,
How little time great Alteration brings!
All thing are subject unto change we know,
And if all things, then why not sexes too▪
Tyresias we read a man was borne
Yet after did into a woman turne.
Levinus a Physitian of great fame,
Reports that one at Paris did the same.
And devout Papists say certaine it is,
One of their Popes by Metamorphosis
Indur'd the same; else how could Ioan be heire
To the succession of Saint Peters chaire.
So I at Chairing crosse have beheld one
A statue cut out of the Parian stone
To figure great Aloides; which when well
The Artist saw it was not like to sell;
He takes his chissell, and away he pares
Part of his sinewy neck, shaving the haires
Of his rough beard and face, smoothing the brow,
And making that looke amorous; which but now
[Page 56]Stood wrinkled with his anger; from his head
He poles the shaggy locks, that had o're spread
His brawny shoulders with a fleece of haire,
And workes insteed more gentle tresses there.
And thus his skill exactly to expresse,
Soone makes a Venus of an Hercules.
And can it then impossible appeare,
That such a change as this might happen here.
For this cause therefore (Gentle Aunt) I pray
Blame not my Prophecy, but your delay.
But this will not excuse me; that I may
Directly cleare my selfe, there is no way
Vnlesse the Iesuits will to me impart
The secret depth of their mysterious art.
Who from their halting Patriot learne to frame
A Crutch for every word that fals out lame.
That can the subtle difference discry
Betwixt aequivocation and a lie.
And a rare scape by sly distinction find
To sweare the Tongue, and yet not sweare the mind.
Now arm'd with Arguments I nothing dread,
But my own cause thus confidently plead.
I said there was a boy with in your wombe,
Not actually, but one in time to come.
Or by Antiphrasis my words might bee
That ever understands the contrary;
Or when I said you should a man-child beare,
You understood me of the sexe I feare,
When I did meane the mind; and thus define
A woman but of spirit masculine.
[Page 57]Or had I said it should a girle have been
And it had prov'd a boy you should have seen
Mee solve it thus; I meant a boy by fate,
But one that would have been effeminate.
Or thus I had my just excuse begun,
I said my Aunt would surely bring a sonne
If not a daughter; what we seers forsee
Is certaine truth unlesse it falshood bee.
Or I affirme because shee brought forth one
That will bring boyes, shee hath brought forth a sonne.
For doe not we call Father Adam thus,
Because that he got those that have got us.
What ere I said by simple Affirmation,
I meant the right by mentall reservation.

An Epithalamium to Mt F. H.

FRanke, when this Morne the harbinger of day
Blush'd from her Easterne pillow where shee lay,
Clasp'd in her Tythons arms red with those kisses
Which being injoy'd by night, by day shee misses:
I walk'd the feilds to see the teeming earth,
Whose wombe now swells to give the flowers a birth.
Where while my thoughts with every object tane,
In severall contemplations rapt my braine,
A suddaine lustre like the Sunne did rise,
And with to great a light eclips'd mine eyes.
At last I spyed a Beauty, such another,
[Page 58]As I have sometimes heard call the [...] her Brother.
But by the chariot, and her teame of Doves,
I guest her to be Venus, Queene of Loves.
With her a pretty boy I there did see,
But for his wings I'had thought it had been thee▪
At last when I beheld his quiver of darts,
I knew t'was Cupid Emperour of our hearts.
Thus I accosted them, Goddesse divine,
Great Queene of Paphos and Cytherian shrine:
Whose Altars no man sees that can depart
Till in those flames he sacrifice his heart;
That conquerst Gods, and men; and heaven divine,
Yea and hell too: Bea [...]e witnesse Pr [...]serpine.
And Cupid, thou that canst thy Trophies show
Over all these, and o're thy Mother too;
Witnesse the night which when with Mars shee lay,
Did all her sports to all the Gods betray:
Tell me great Powers; what makes such glorious beams
Visit the lowly banks of Ninus streams?
Then Venus smil'd, and smiling bid me know
Cupid and shee must both to Weston goe.
I guest the cause; for Hymen came behind
In saffron robes, his Nuptiall knots to bind.
Then thus I pray'd: Great Venus by the Love
Of thy Adonu; as thou hop'st to move
Thy Mars to second kisses; and obtaine
Beauties reward, the Golden fruit againe:
Bow thy faire eares to my chast prayers, and take
Such Orisons as purest Love can make.
Thou, and thy boy I know are posting thither
[Page 59]To tye pure hearts in purest bonds together.
Cupid thou know'st the maid: I'have seene thee lye
With all thy arrowes lurking in her eye.
Venus thou know'st her love, for I have seene
The time thou would'st have faine her Rivall been.
O blesse them both! Let their affections meet
With happy omens in the Geniall sheet.
Both comely, beauteous both, both equall faire,
Thou canst not glory in a fitter paire.
I would not thus have praid if I had seen
Fourscore and ten, wed to a young fifteen.
Death in such Nuptials seems with love to play,
And Ianuary seems to match with May:
Autumne to wed the Spring; Frost to desire
To kisse the Sun; Ice to embrace the fire.
Both these are young, both sprightfull, both compleat,
Of equall moisture, and of equall heat:
And their desires are one; were all Loves such
Who would love solitary sheets so much▪
Virginity (whereof chast fooles doe boast;
A thing not known what, 'tis till it be lost)
Let others praise; for me I cannot tell
What vertue, 'tis to lead Baboons in hell.
Woman is one with man when shee is brided▪
The same in kind, only in sexe divided.
Had all dy'd maids, we had been nothing then;
Adam had been the first, and last of men.
How none O Venus then thy power had seen▪
How then in vaine had Cupids arrows been▪
My selfe whose coole thoughts feele no hot desires,
[Page 60]That serve not Venus flames, but Vestas fires;
Had I not vow'd the cloysters, to confine
My selfe to no more wives then only nine
Parnassus brood; those that heare Phoebus sing▪
Bathing their naked limbs in Thespian spring.
I'de rather bee an Owle of Birds, then one
That is the Phoenix if shee live alone▪
Two is the first of numbers; one naught can doe,
One then is good, when one is made of two.
Which mistery is thine great Venus, thine;
Thy union can two soules in one combine.
Now by that power I charge thee blesse the sheets
With happy issue where this couple meets.
The maid's a Harvy, one that may compare
With fruit Hesperian▪ or the Dragonscare.
Her Love a Ward; not he that awed the seas,
Frighting the fearefull Hamadryades.
That Ocean terrour, he that durst outbrave
Dread Neptunes Trident, Amphitrites wave.
This Ward a milder Pirat sure will prove,
And only sailes the Hellesp [...]nt of Love,
As once Leander did; his theft is best
That nothing steales but whats within the brest▪
Yet let that other Ward his thefts compare,
And ransack all his treasures, let him beare
The wealth of worlds, the bowels of the West
And all the richest treasures of the East.
The sands of Tagu [...], all Pactolus ore,
With both the Indies; yet this one gets more
At once by Love; then he by force could get,
[Page 61]Or ravish from the Marchants; let him set
His Ores together; let him vainely boast
Of spices snatch'd from the Canary coast;
The Gummes of Aegypt, or the Tyrian fleece
Died in his Native purple, with what Greece,
Colchos, Arabia, or proud China yeilds,
With all the Metals in Guiana feilds.
When this has set all forth to boast his pride
In various pompe; this other brings his Bride,
And I'le be judg'd by all judicious eyes,
If shee alone prove not the richer prize.
O let not death have power their Love to sever!
Let them both love, and live and die together.
O let their beds be chast, and banish thence
As well all Iealousies, as all offence!
For some men I have known, whose wives have been▪
As chast as Ice: such as were never seen
In wanton dalliance, such as untill death
Never smelt any, but their husbands breath.
Yet the Good-man still dream'd of hornes, still fearing
His forhead would grow harder; still appearing
To his own fancy, bull, or stagge, or more,
Or Oxe at least, that was an Asse before.
If shee would have new cloaths, he streight will feare
Shee loves a Taylour; if shee sad appeare
Hee guesses soone it is 'cause he's at home;
If jocund, sure shee has some freind to come.
If shee be sick, he thinkes no greife shee felt,
But wishes all Physitians had been guelt.
But aske her how shee does, sets him a swearing,
[Page 62]Feeling her pulse, is love tricks past the bearing.
Poore wretched wife, shee cannot looke a wry
But without doubt 'tis flat adultery.
And jealous wives there be, that are afraid
To entertaine a handsome Chamber-maid.
Farre, farre from them be all such thoughts I pray,
Let their Loves prove eternall, and no day
Adde date to their affections, grant (ô Queene)
Their Loves like nuptiall bayes be alwaies greene.
And also grant—But here shee bid me stay,
For well shee knew what I had else to say.
I ask'd no more, wish'd her hold on her race
To joyne their hands, and send them night apace.
Shee smil'd to heare what I in sport did say,
So whip'd her doves and smiling rid away.

To Mr Feltham on his booke of Resolves.

IN this unconstant Age when all mens minds
In various change strive to outvie the winds.
When no man sets his foot upon the square,
But treads on globes and circles; when we are
The Apes of Fortune, and desire to bee
Revolved on as fickle wheeles as shee.
As if the planets, that our rulers are,
Made the soules motion too irregular.
When minds change oftner then the Greek could dream,
That made the Metempseucos'd soule his theame;
[Page 63]Yea oft to beastly formes▪ when truth to say
Moons change but once a month, we twice a day.
When none resolves but to be rich, and ill;
Or else resolves to be irresolute still.
In such a tide of minds, that every houre
Doe ebbe and flow; by what inspring power,
By what instinct of grace I cannot tell,
Dost thou resolve so much, and yet so well?
While foolish men whose reason is their sence,
Still wander in the worlds circumference:
Thou holding passions raines with strictest hand
Dost firme and fixed in the Center stand.
Thence thou art setled, others while they tend
To rove about the circle find no end.
Thy booke I read, and read it with delight,
Resolving so to live as thou dost wright.
And yet I guesse thy life thy booke produces,
And but expresses thy peculiar uses.
Thy manners dictate, thence thy writing came,
So Lesbians by their worke their rules doe frame,
Not by the rules the worke; thy life had been
Patterne enough, had it of all been seen,
Without a book; books make the difference here,
In them thou liv'st the same but every where.
And this I guesse, though th'art unknown to me,
By thy chast writing; else it could not bee
(Dissemble ne' [...]e so well) but here and there
Some tokens of that plague would soone appeare;
Oft lurking in the skin a secret gout
In books would sometimes blister, and breake out.
[Page 64]Contagious sinnes in which men take delight
Must needs infect the paper when they write.
But let the curious eyes of Lynceus look
Through every nerve, and sinew of this book,
Of which 'tis full: let the most diligent mind
Prie thorough it, each sentence he shall find
Season'd with chast, not with an itching salt,
More favouring of the Lampe, then of the malt.
But now too many thinke noe wit divine,
None worthy life, but whose luxurious line
Can ravish Virgins thoughts. And is it fit
To make a pandar, or a baud of wit?
But tell'em of it, in contempt they look,
And aske in scorne if you would geld their book.
As if th' effeminate braine could nothing doe
That should be chast, and yet be masculine too.
Such books as these (as they themselves indeed
Truly confesse) men doe not praise, but read.
Such idle books, which if per chance they can
Better the braine, yet they corrupt the man.
Thou hast not one bad line so lustfull bred
As to dye maid, or Matrons cheeke in red.
Thy modest wit, and witty honest letter
Makes both at once my wit, and me the better.
Thy book a Garden is, and helpes us most
To regaine that, which wee in Adam lost.
Where on the Tree of knowledge wee may feed,
But such as no forbidden fruits doth breed.
Whose leaves like those whence Eve her coat did frame,
Serve not to cover, but to cure our shame.
[Page 65]Fraught with all flowers, not only such as grows
To please the eye, or to delight the nose.
But such as may redeeme lost healths againe,
And store of Hellebore to purge the braine.
Such as would cure the furfet man did take
From Adams Apples: such as faine would make
Mans second Paradise, in which should bee
The fruits of life, but no forbidden Tree.
It is a Garden; ha' I thus did say:
And maids, and Matrons blushing runne away.
But maids reenter these chast pleasing bowers;
Chast Matrons here gather the purest flowers.
Feare not: from this pure Garden doe not flye,
In it doth no obsceane Priapus lye.
This is an Eden where no serpents bee;
To tempt the womans imbecillitie.
These lines rich sap the fruit to heaven doth raise;
Nor doth the Cinnamon barke deserve lesse praise,
I meane the stile, being pure and strong and round,
Not long but Pythy: being short breath'd, but sound.
Such as the grave, acute, wise Seneca sings,
That best of Tutour to the worst of kings.
Not long and empty; lofty but not proud;
Subtle but sweet, high but without a cloud.
Well setled full of nerves, in breife 'tis such
That in a little hath comprized much,
Like th' Iliads in a Nutshell: And I say
Thus much for stile; though truth should not bee gay.
In strumpets glittering robes, yet ne'rethelesse
Shee well deserves a Matrons comelinesse.
[Page 66]Being too brave shee would our fancies glut;
But we should loath her being too much the slut.
The reasonable soule from heaven obtain'd
The best of bodies; and that man hath gain'd
A double praise; whose noble vertues are
Like to the face, in soule and body faire.
Who then would have a noble sentence clad
In russet-thread-bare words, is full as mad
As if Apelles should so fondly dote,
As to paint Venus in old Baucys coat.
They erre that would bring stile so basely under;
The lofty language of the Law was thunder.
The wisest' pothecary knows 'tis skill
Neatly to candy o're the wholesome pill.
Best Physique then, when gall with sugar meets,
Tempring Asbinthian bitternesse with sweets.
Such is thy sentence, such thy stile, being read
Men see them both together happ'ly wed.
And so resolve to keepe them wed, as we
Resolve to give them to posteritie.
'Mongst thy resolves put my resolves in too;
Resolve who's will, thus I resolve to doe:
That should my errours choose anothers line
Whereby to write, I meane to live by thine.

In Natalem Augustissimi Principis Caroli.

PRimatibi pertit soboles (dilecta Maria.)
Elusit (que) uterum moesta Diana tuum.
[Page 67] Tunc Coelo, nunc & terris foecunda fuisti,
Quae potes & reges & peperisse deos.
Thy first birth Mary was unto a tombe,
And sad Lucina cheated thy blest wombe.
To heav'n thou then wert fruitfull, now to earth,
That canst give Saints as well as Kings a birth.

Vpon his Picture.

WHen age hath made me what I am not now;
And every wrinckle tels me where the plow
Of time hath furrowed; when an Ice shall flow
Through every vein, and all my head wear snow:
When death displayes his coldnesse in my cheeke,
And I, my selfe in my owne Picture seeke.
Not finding what I am, but what I was▪
In doubt which to beleive, this, or my glasse:
Yet though I alter, this remaines the same
As it was drawne, retaines the primitive frame,
And first complexion; here will still be seen
Blood on the cheeke, and Downe upon the chin.
Here the smooth brow will stay, the lively eye,
The ruddy Lip, and haire of youthfull dye.
Behold what frailty we in man may see,
Whose Shaddow is lesse given to change then hee.

An Ode to Mr Anthony Stafford to hasten him into the Country,

Come spurre away,
I have no patience for a longer stay;
But must goe downe,
And leave the chargeable noise of this great Towne.
I will the country see,
Where old simplicity,
Though hid in gray
Doth looke more gay
Then foppery in plush and scarlat clad.
Farewell you City-wits that are
Almost at Civill warre;
'Tis time that I grow wise, when all the world grows mad.
More of my dayes
I will not spend to gaine an Idiots praise;
Or to make sport
For some slight Punie of the Innes of Court.
Then worthy Stafford say
How shall we spend the day.
With what delights,
Shorten the nights?
When from this tumult we are got secure;
Where mirth with all her freedome goes,
[Page 69]Yet shall no finger loose;
Where every word is thought, and every thought is pure.
There from the tree
Wee'l cherries plucke, and pick the strawbery.
And every day
Go see the wholesome Country Girles make hay.
whose browne hath lovlier grace,
Then any painted face,
That I doe know
Hide-Parke can show.
Where I had rather gaine a kisse then meet
Though some of them in greater state
Might court my love with plate,
The beauties of the Cheape, and wives of Lumbardstreet.
But thinke upon.
Some other pleasures▪ these to me are none,
Why doe I prate
Of woemen, that are things against my fate
I never meane to wed,
That torture to my bed.
My Muse is shee
My Love shall bee.
Let Clownes get wealth, and haires; when I am gone,
And the great Bugbeare grisly death
Shall take this [...]le breath,
If I a Poem leave, that Poem is my Sonne.
[Page 70]Of this no more;
Wee'l rather tast the bright Pomona's store.
No fruit shall scape
Our pallats, from the damsen, to the grape.
Then full we'l seek a shade,
And heare what musique's made;
How Philomell
Her tale doth tell:
And how the other Birds doe fill the quire;
The Thrush and Blackbird lend their throats
warbling melodious notes;
Wee will all sports enjoy, which others but desire:
Ours is the skie,
Whereat what fowle we please our Hauke shall flye;
Nor will we spare
To hunt the crafty foxe, or timorous hare▪
But let our hounds runne loose
In any ground they'l choose,
The Bucke shall fall,
The stagge and all:
Our pleasures must from their owne warrants bee,
For to my Muse, if not to mee,
I'me sure all game is free;
Heaven, Earth, are all but parts of her great Royalty.
And when we meane
To tast of Bacchus blessings now and then,
And drinke by stealth
A cup or two to noble Barkleys health.
[Page 71]I'le take my pipe and try
The Phrygian melody;
Which he that heares
Lets through his eares
A madnesse to distemper all the braine.
Then I another pipe will take
And Dorique musique make,
To Civilize with graver notes our wits againe.

An answer to Mr Ben Iohnso [...]'s Ode [...]o per­swade him not to leave the stage,

BEn doe not leave the stage
Cause 'tis a loath some age;
For Pride, and Impudence will grow too bold,
When they shall heare it told
They frighted thee: stand high as is thy cause,
Their hisse is thy applause.
More just were thy disdaine,
Had they appov'd thy vaine.
So thou for them, and they for thee were borne,
They to incense, and thou as much to scorne.
Wilt thou engrosse thy store
Of wheat, and powre no more,
Because their Bacon-braines have such a tast
As more delight in mast?
No; set'em forth a board of dainties, full
[Page 72]As thy best Muse can cull;
While they the while doe pine
And thirst, midst all their wine.
What greater plague can hell it selfe devise,
Then to be willing thus to tantalize?
Thou canst not find them stuffe
That will be bad enough
To please their pallats; let 'em thine refuse
For some Pye-corner Muse;
Shee is to faire an hostesse, 'twere a finne
For them to like thine Inne:
'Twas made to entertaine,
Guests of a nobler straine,
Yet if they will have any of thy store,
Give 'em some scraps, and send them from thy dore.
And let those things in plush,
Till they be taught to blush
Like what they will, and more contented bee
With what Broome swept from thee.
I know thy worth, and that thy lofty straines
Write not to clothes but Braines:
But thy great spleene doth rise
Cause moles will have no eyes;
This only in my Ben, I faulty find
He's angry, they 'le not see him that are blind.
Why should the Scene be Mute
Cause thou canst touch a Lute
[Page 73]And string thy Horace? let each Muse of nine
Claime thee, and say thou art mine.
'Twer fond to let all other flames expire
To sitt by Pindar's fire:
For by so strange neglect,
I should my selfe suspect
The Palsie were as well, thy braines disease;
If they could shake thy Muse which way they please.
And though thou well canst sing,
The glories of thy King;
And on the wings of verse his chariot beare
To heaven, and fixe it there:
Yet let thy Muse as well some raptures raise,
To please him, as to praise.
I would not have thee choose
Only a treble Muse;
But have this envious, ignorant Age to know,
Thou that canst sing so high, canst reach as low.

A Dialogue. Thirsis. Lalage.

MY Lalage when I behold
So great a cold,
And not a spark of heat in thy desire,
I wonder what strange power of thine,
Kindles in mine
So bright a flame, and such a burning fire.
[Page 74]
Can Thirsis in Philosophy
A truant bee,
And not have learn'd the power of the Sun?
How he to sublunary things
A favour brings,
Yet in himselfe is subject unto none?
But why within thy eyes appeare
Never a teare,
That cause from mine perpetuall showres to fall?
Foole 'tis the power of fire you know
To melt the snow,
Yet has no moisture in it selfe at all.
How can I be, deare Virgin show,
Both fire and snow?
Doe you that are the cause, the reason tell;
More then miracle to me
It seemes to be,
That so much heate with so much cold should dwell.
The reason I will render thee;
Why both should bee.
Audacious Thirsis in thy love too bold,
'Cause thy sawcinesse durst aspire
To such a fire,
Thy love is hot; but 'tis thy hope is cold.
Let pitty move thy gentle brest
To one opprest;
This way, or that, give ease to my desire;
And either let Loves fire be lost
In hopes cold frost,
Or hopes cold frost be warm'd in loves quick fire.
[Page 75]
O neither Boy; neither of these
Shall worke thy ease.
I 'le pay thy rashnesse with immortall paine,
As hope doth strive to freeze thy flame,
Love melts the same:
As Love doth melt it, Hope doth freez't again
Come gentle swaines lend me a groane
To ease my moane.
Ah cruell Love how great a power is thine?
Vnder the Poles although we lye
Thou mak'st us frye:
And thou canst make us freeze beneath the line.

A Dialogue betwixt a Nymph and a Shepheard.

WHy sigh you swain? this passion is not cōmon;
I'st for your kids, or Lambkins?

For a wo­man

How [...]aire is shee that on so sage a brow
Prints lowring looks?

Iust such a toy as thou.


Is shee a maid?


what man can answer that?


Or widdow?




what then?

I know not
Saint-like shee lookes, a Syren if shee sing.
Her eyes are starres, her mind is every thing.
If shee be fickle, Shepheard leave to wooe
Or fancy mee.

No tho [...] art woman too▪


But I am constant.


Then thou art not faire.


Bright as the morning.


Wavering as the Ayre.


What grows upon this cheeke?


A pure Carnation.

[Page 76]

Come tast a kisse


O sweet, ô sweet Temptation!

Ah Love, and canst thou never loose the feild?
Where Cupid layes a seige, the towne must yeild.
Hee warmes the chiller blood with glowing fire,
And thaws the Icy frost of cold desire.

A Pastorall Ode.

COy Coelia dost thou see
Yon hollow mountaine tottering o're the plaine,
O're which a fatall Tree
With treacherous shade betrayes the sleepy swaine?
Beneath it is a Cell,
As full of horrour as my brest of care,
Ruine therein might dwell;
As a fit roome for guilt and black dispaire.
Thence will I headlong throw
This wretched weight, this heape of misery;
And in the dust below,
Bury my Carcasse, and the thought of thee:
Which when I finish'd have,
O hate me dead, as thou hast done alive;
And come not neare my grave
Least I take heat from thee, and so revive.

A Song.

MVsick thou Queene of soules, get up and string
Thy pow'rful Lute, and some sad requiem sing,
Till Rocks requite thy Eccho with a groane:
And the dull clifts repeate the duller tone:
Then on a suddaine with a nimble hand
Runnne gently o're the Chordes, and so command
The Pine to dance, the Oake his Roots forgoe,
The holme and aged Elme to foot it too;
Mirtles shall caper, lofty Cedars runne;
And call the Courtly Palme to make up one;
Then in the midst of all their Iolly traine,
Strike a sad note; and fixe 'em Trees againe.

The Song of Discord.

LEt Linus and Amphions lute,
With Orpheus [...]itterne now be mute.
The harshest voice the sweetest note;
The Raven has the choicest throate.
A set of Frogs a quire for mee,
The Mandrake shall the Chaunter bee.
Where neither voice, nor tunes agree;
This is discords Harmonie.
[Page 78]Thus had Orpheus learn'd to play,
The following Trees had run away.

To one Overhearing his private discourse.

I Wonder not my Laeda farre can see,
Since for her eyes shee might an Eagle bee,
And dare the Sun; but that shee heares so well
As that shee could my private whisperings tell,
I stand amaz'd; her eares are not so long,
That they could reach my words; hence then it sprung:
Love overhearing fled to her bright eare,
Glad he had got a tale to whisper there.

Epigram: 47 ex decimo Libro Martialis,

THese are things that being possest
Will make a life that's truly blest:
Estate bequeath'd, not got with toyle;
A good hot fire, a gratefull soyle.
No strife, warme clothes, a quiet soule,
A strength intire, a body whole.
Prudent simplicity, equall freinds,
A diet that no Art commends.
A night not drunke, and yet secure;
A bed not sad, yet chast and pure.
[Page 79]Long sleepes to make the nights but short,
A will to be but what thou art▪
Nought rather choose; contented lye,
And neither feare, nor wish to dye.

In Grammaticum Eunuchum.

GRammaticam Diodore doces Eunuche puellos,
Credo Solaecismum tu Diodore facis,
Cum sis exectus quàm nec Sporus ille Neronis,
Nec mersus liquidis Hermaphroditus aquis.
Non unam liquit tibi saeva novacula testem;
Propria quae maribus cur Diodore legis?
Quae genus aut sexum variant, Heteroclyta tantum▪
Posthàc si sapias tu Diodore legas.

To the Vertuous and noble Lady, the Lady Cotton.

TIs not to force more teares from your sad eye,
That we write thus; that were a Piety
Turn'd guilt and sinne; we only beg to come
And pay due tribute to his sacred tombe.
The muses did divide his Love with you,
And justly therefore may be mourners too.
Instead of Cypresse, they have brought fresh Baies
To crowne his Vrne, and every dirge is Praise.
[Page 80]But since with him the learned tongues are gone,
Necessity here makes us use our owne.
Read, in his praise your owne, you cannot misse;
For he was but our Wonder, you were his.

An Elegie on the death of that Renowned and Noble Knight Sir Rowland Cotton of Bellaport in Shropshire.

RIch as was Cottons worth, I wish each line;
And every verse I breath like him, a Mine.
That by his vertues might created bee
A new strange miracle, wealth in Poetrie.
But that invention cannot sure be poore,
That but relates a part of his large store.
His youth began, as when the Sun doth rise
Without a Cloud, and clearly trots the skies.
And whereas other youths commended bee
From conceiv'd Hopes; his was maturitie.
Where other springs boast blossoms fairely blowne,
His was a harvest, and had fruits full growne.
So that he seem'd a Nestor here to raigne
In wisdome, Aeson-like, turn'd young againe.
This, Royall Henry, whose majestique eye
Saw thorough men, did from his court descrye,
And thither call'd him, and then fix'd him there
One of the prime starres in his glorious spheare.
And (Princely Master) witnesse this with mee,
[Page 81]He liv'd not there to serve himselfe but thee.
No Silk-worme Courtier such as study there
First how to get their cloaths, then how to weare.
And though in favour high, he ne're was known
To promote others suits to pay for's own.
He valued more his Master, and knew well,
To use his Love was noble; base to sell.
Many there belive in the Court we know
To serve for Pageants, and make up the show;
And are not serviceable there at all
But now and then at some great Festivall.
He serv'd for nobler use, the secret-cares
Of common-wealths, and mystique State affaires;
And when great Henry did his Maxims heare,
He wore him as a Iewell in his Eare.
Yet short he came not, nay he all out-went
In what some call a Courtiers complement.
An Active body that in subtile wise
Turnes pliable to any exercise.
For when he leapt, the people dar'd to say
He was borne all of fire, and wore no clay.
Which was the cause too that he wrestled so,
'Tis not fires nature to be kept below.
His course he so perform'd with nimble pace,
The time was not perceiv'd measur'd the race.
As it were true that some late Artists say,
The Earth mov'd too, and run the other way.
All so soone finish'd, when the match was wonne
The Gazers by ask'd why they not begunne.
When he in masque us'd his harmonious feet,
[Page 82]The Sphears could not in comelier order meet;
Nor move more gracefull, whether they advance
Their measures forward, or retire their dance.
There be have seene him in our Henry's Court
The glory and the envy of that sport.
And capring like a constellation rise,
Having fixt upon him all the Ladies eyes.
But these in him I would not vertues call,
But that the world must know, that he had all.
When Henry dy'd (our universall woe)
Willing was Cotton to dye with him too.
And as neare death he came as neare could bee;
Himselfe he buried in obscuritie,
Entomb'd within his study wals, and there
Only the Dead his conversation were.
Yet was he not alone; for every day
Each Muse came thither with her sprig of Bay.
The Graces round about him did appeare,
The Genii of all Nations all met there.
And while immur'd he sat thus close at home,
To him the wealth of all the world did come.
He had a language to salute the Sunne,
Where he unharnest, and where's teame begunne▪
The tongues of all the East to him 'twere known
As Naturall, as they were borne his own.
Which from his mouth so sweetly did intice,
As with their language he had mix'd their spice.
In Greeke so fluent, that with it compare
Th' Athenian Olives, and they [...]aplesse are.
Rome did submit her Fasces, and confes [...]e
[Page 83]Her Tully might talke more, and yet speake lesse.
All Sciences were lodg'd in his large brest,
And in that Pallace thought themselves so blest
They never meant to part, but he should bee
Sole Monarch, and dissolve their Heptarchie.
But ô how vaine is mans fraile Harmonie!
We all are swannes, he that sings best must die.
Death knowledge nothing makes, when we come there,
We need no Language, nor Interpreter.
Who would not laugh at him now, that should seeke
In Cotton's Vrne for Hebrew or for Greeke?
But his more heav'nly graces with him yet
Live constant, and about him circled sit
A bright Retinue, and on each fals downe
A robe of Glory, and on each a Crowne.
Then Madam (though you have a losse sustain'd
Both infinite, and ne're to be regain'd
Here in this world) dry your sad eyes, once more
You shall againe enter the Nuptiall dore
A sprightly bride; where you shall clothed bee
In garments weav'd of Immortalitie.
Nor greive because he left you not a Sonne,
To Image Co [...]ton forth now he is gone.
For it had been a wrong to his great Name
T' have liv'd in any thing but Heaven, and Fame.

Ausonit Epigram 38.

SHee which would not I would choose:
Shee which would I would refuse.
[Page 84] Venus could my mind but tame;
But not satisfie the same.
Inticements offer'd I despise,
And deny'd I slightly prize.
I would neither glut my mind,
Nor yet too much torment find.
Twice girt Diana doth not take mee,
Nor Venus naked joyfull make mee.
The first no pleasure hath to joy mee,
And the last enough to cloy mee.
But a crafty we [...]ch I'de have
That can sell the act I crave.
And joyne at once in me these two,
I will, and yet I will not doe.

On the Death of a Nightingale.

GOe solitary wood, and henceforth be
Acquainted with no other Harmonie,
Then the Pyes chattering, or the shreeking note
Of bodeing Owles, and fatall Ravens throate.
Thy sweetest Chanters dead, that warbled forth
Layes, that might tempests calme, and still the North;
And call downe Angels from their glorious Spheare
To heare her Songs, and learne new Anthems there.
That soule is fled, and to Elisium gone;
Thou a poore desert left; goe then and runne,
Begge there to stand a grove, and if shee please
To sing againe beneath thy shadowy Trees;
[Page 85]The soules of happy Lovers crown'd with blisses
Shall flock about thee, and keepe time with kisses.

In filium Manlii insepultum.

IN terrâ condivetuit Pater improbus, at Te
In tumulo patitur nobiliore tegi.
Pars canis est tumuli, tumuli pars altera Tigris,
Altera pars Lupus est, & Leo for san erit.
Marmoreos Regum tumulos contemne, sepulchra
Sunt aliis tantum mortua, viva tibi.

Vpon the report of the King of Swedens Death.

I'Le not beleive 't; if fate should be so crosse
Nature would not be silent of her losse.
Can he be dead, and no portents appeare?
No pale Ecclipse of th' sun to let us feare
What we should suffer, and before his light
Put out, the world inveloped in Night?
What thundring torrents the flush'd welkin tare?
What apparition kill'd him in the aire?
When Caesar dy'd there were convulsion fits;
And nature seem'd to run out of her wits.
At that sad object Tybers bosome swell'd,
And scarce from drowning all, by Iove withheld.
And shall we give this mighty Conquerour
That in a great and a more holy warre,
[Page 86]Was pulling downe the Empire which he reard,
A fall unmourn'd of Nature and unfear'd;
A death (unlesse the league of heav'n withstood)
Lesse wept then with an universall flood?
If I had seene a Comet in the aire
With glorious eye, and bright disheveld haire,
And on a suddaine with his gilded traine
Drop downe; I should have said that Sweden's slaine,
Shot like that starre; or if the earth had shooke
Like a weake floore, the falling roofe had broke;
I should have said the mighty King is gone;
Fel'd as the tallest tree in Libanon.
Alasse if he were dead; we need no post,
Uery instinct would tell us what we lost.
And a chill damp (as at the generall doome)
Creepe through each brest and we should know for whome.
His German conquests are not yet compleat,
And when they are, ther's more remaining yet.
The world is full of sin, nor every Land
O're growne with schisme hath felt his purging hand.
The Pope is not confounded, and the Turke,
Nor was he sure design'd for a lesse worke.
But if our sinnes have stop'd him in the source,
In mid'st Careere of his victorious course.
And heaven would trust the dulnesse of our sence
So farre, not to prepare us with portents.
'Tis we that have the losse, and he hath caught
His heav'nly garland e're his worke be wrought.
But I, before I'le undertake to greive
So great a losse, will choose not to beleive.

On Sr Robert Cotton the Antiquary.

POsterity hath many fates bemoan'd,
But ages long since past for thee have groan'd.
Times Trophies thou didst rescue from the grave
Who in thy death a second buriall have.
Cotton, deaths conquest now compleat I see,
Who ne're had vanquish'd all things but in thee.

An Elegie.

HEav'n knowes my Love to thee, fed on desires
So hallowed, and unmixt with vulgar fires,
As are the purest beams shot from the Sun
At his full height; and the devotion.
Of dying Martyrs could not burne more cleare,
Nor Innocence in her first robes appeare
Whiter then our Affections; they did show
Like frost forc'd out of flames, and fire from snow▪
So pure the Phoenix when shee did refine
Her age to youth, borrowed no flames but mine.
But now my daies o'recast, for I have now
Drawne Anger like a tempest o're the brow
Of my faire Mistresse; those your glorious eyes
Whence I was wont to see my day starre rise,
Threat like revengefull Meteors, and I feele
My torment, and my guilt double my hell.
[Page 88]'T was a mistake, and might have veniall been,
Done to another, but it was made sin,
And justly Mortall too by troubling Thee,
Slight wrongs are treasons done to Majestie.
O all yee blest Ghosts of deceased Loves,
That now live Sainted in th' Elisian groves
Mediate for mercy for me; at her shrine
Meet in full quire, and joyne your praiers with mine.
Conjure her by the merits of your kisses,
By your past sufferings and present blisses.
Conjure her by your mutuall hopes, and feares;
By all your intermixed sighes, and teares,
To plead my pardon; goe to her and tell
That you will walke the guardian sentinell,
My soules safe Genii, that shee need not feare
A mutinous thought, or one close rebell there.
But what needs that, when shee alone sits there
Sole Angell of that Orbe; in her owne spheare
Alone shee sits, and can secure it free
From all irregular motions, only shee
Can give the balsome that must cure this sore;
And the sweet Antidote to sin no more.

[...]: Arist.

FRom witty men and mad
All Poetry conception had.
No sires but these will Poetry admit
Madnesse or wit.
[Page 89]This definition Poetry doth fit,
It is a witty madnesse, or mad wit.
Only these two Poetique heat admits,
A witty man, or one that's out of's wits.

Ad Amicum Litigantem,

WOuld you commence a Poet S, and be
A graduat in the thredbare mysterie?
The Oxes ford will no man thither bring,
Where the horse hoofe raisd the Pegasian spring.
Nor will the bridge through which low Cham doth runne,
Direct you to the bankes of Helicon.
If in that art you meane to take degrees,
Bedlam's the best of universities.
There study it, and when you would no more
A Poet be, goe drinke some Hellebore.
Which drugge when I had tasted, soone I left
The bare Parnassus, and the barren cleft;
And can no more one of their Nation bee,
Because recover'd of my lunacie.
But you may then succeed me in my place
Of Poet, no pretence to make your grace
Denied you, for you goe to law, 'tis said;
And then 'tis ta'ne for granted you are mad.
Felicem Anticyram! nullos ibi credo Poetas
Insanos tumido corde fovere modos.
[Page 90]Hanc, fama est tantum sanos admittere cives.
Exulat hinc vester, (turba molesta) furor!
Nullus in hâc Elegis, nullus jugulatur Iambis;
Incola non Satyram, non Epigramma timet.
Nullus in hâc tener as recitator verberat aures;
Non hic judicium, non petit ille tuum.
Non hic te Chloris, non hic laudata fatigat
Coelia; nulla tuam mordet hirudo cutem.
Putida nec medias disrumpunt carmina mensas;
Mucida nec quisquam vina legendo facit.
Nusquam aliquis, terrae securior errat, ob unum hoc
Grates Helloboro quin agat ille suo.

In Corydonem & Corinnam.

AH miser, & nullo felix in amore! Corinnam
Cum rogat illa, negas; cum negat illa, rogas.
Ambos urit Amor, quid sit f [...]licius▪ ambos▪
Tempore non uno sed tamen [...]rit amor.
Cum flagras Corydon, frigescit fibra Corinnae
Cum tua frigescit fibra, Co [...]inna calet.
Cur aestas Corydonis▪ hyems sit facta Corrinnae?
Quidvè Corinnae aestas sit Corydonis hyems?
Vnde ignis glaciem▪ glacies unde efficit ignem?
Desine crudeles, s [...]e Cupido, jocos!
Desine! sed nec te Corydonis tollere flammas,
Tollere nec castas Virginis oro nives.
Vre duos, extingue duos, & pectus utrum (que)
Aut calor, aut teneat pectus utrum (que) gelu.


AH wretch in thy Corinna's love unblest!
How strange a fancy doth torment thy brest?
When shee desires to sport thou saist her nay;
When shee denyes then thou desir'st to play.
Love burnes you both. (ô'tis a happy turne!)
But 'tis at severall times love both doth burne.
When scorching heat hath Corydons heart possest,
Then raignes a frost in cold Corinnas brest.
And when a frost in Corydon doth raigne,
Then is Corinnas brest on fire againe.
Why then with Corydon is it summer prime,
When with Corinna it is winter time?
Or why should then Corin [...]as summer bee
When it is winter Corydon with thee?
Can lce from fire, or fire from Ice proceed?
Ah jest not Love in so severe a deed!
I bid thee not Corydons flame to blow
Cleane out; nor cleane to melt Corinnas snow.
Burne both! freeze both! let mutuall Ferv our hold
His and her brest, or his and her's a cold

Ad [...]assum.

Nostri, (Basse) solent pretio conducere stultos
Quos in deliciis Aulicus omnis habet.
[Page 92]At si quis cuperet sapientem vendere praeco,
Rarus erit minimo qui velit asse virum.
Vs (que) adeò nocet ingenium, tanto (que) putatur
Quo minus est cerebri, charius esse caput.
Vnde tot ignari veneres? cur stultus amatur?
Hei mihi! cur tanti non sapuisse fuit?
Haec ratio est, paribus gaudet Venus at (que) Cupido;
Et nunquam similes non sibi iungit Amor.

To one admiring her selfe in a Looking-Glasse.

FAire Lady when you see the Grace
Of Beauty in your Looking-Glasse▪
A stately forhead, smooth and high,
And full of Princely Majesty.
A sparkling eye no gemme so faire,
Whose lustre dimmes the Cyprian starre.
A glorious cheeke divinely sweet,
Wherein both Roses kindly meet.
A cherry Lip that would entice
Even Gods to kisse at any price.
You thinke no beauty is so rare
That with your shaddow might compare.
That your reflection is alone,
The thing that men most dote upon.
Madam, alas your Glasse doth ly e,
And you are much deceiv'd; for I
A beauty know of richer grace
[Page 93](Sweet be not angry) 'tis your face.
Hence then ö learne more milde to bee,
And leave to lay your blame on mee;
If me your reall substance move;
When you so much your Shaddow Love.
Wise nature would not let your eye
Looke on her owne bright majestie;
Which had you once but gaz'd upon,
You could, except your selfe, love none:
What then you cannot love, let me,
That face I can, you cannot see.
Now you have what to loue, you'l say
What then is left for me I pray?
My face sweet hart if it please thee;
That which you can, I cannot see:
So either love shall gaine his due,
Your's sweet in mee, and mine in you.

An Eglogue occasion'd by two Doctors disputing upon predestination.

HO jolly Thirsis whither in such hast?
I'st for a wager that you run so fast?
Or past your houre below yo [...] hawthorne tree
Does longing Galatea looke for thee?
No Corydon, I heard young Daphnis say
[Page 94] Alexis challeng'd Tityrus to day
Who best shall sing of Shepheards Art, and praise;
But hearke I heare 'em, listen to their laies.
Alexis read, what means this mistique thing;
An Ewe I had two lambs at once did bring:
Th' one black as Iett; the other white as snow:
Say in just providence how it could be so?
Will you Pan's goodnesse therefore partiall call,
That might as well have given thee none at all?
Were they not both eand by the selfe same Ewe?
How could they merit then so different hewe?
Poore lamb alas; and couldst thou, yet unborne,
Sin to deserve the Guilt of such a scorne?
Thou hadst not yet fowl'd a religious spring,
Nor fed on plots of hollowed grasse, to bring
Staines to thy fleece; nor browz'd upon a tree
Sacred to Pan or Pales Deitie.
The Gods are ignorant if they not foreknow;
And knowing, 'tis unjust to use thee so.
Tytir with me contend, or Corydon;
But let the Gods, and their high wills alone.
For in our flocks that freedome challenge wee,
This kid is sacrific'd, and that goes free.
Feed where you will my Lambs, what boots it us
To watch, and water, fold, and drive you thus.
[Page 95]This on the barren mountaines flesh can gleane,
That fed in flowry pastures will be leane.
Plow, sowe, and compasse, nothing boots at all,
Vnlesse the dew upon the Tilth's doe fall.
So labour sylly shepheards what wee can
All's vaine, unlesse a blessing drop from Pan.

Ill thrive thy Theves if thou these lyes maintaine:


And may thy Goats miscarry sawcy swaine.

Fie, Shepheards fie! while you these strifes begin,
Here creepes the woolfe; and there the fox gets in.
To your vaine piping on so deepe a reed
The Lambkins listen, but forget to feed.
It gentle swains befits of Love to sing,
How Love left heaven; and heav'ns immortall King,
His Coaeternall Father. O admire,
Love is a Sonne as ancient as his fire.
His Mother was a Virgin: how could come
A birth so great, and from so chast a wombe!
His cradle was a manger; Shepheards see
True faith delights in poore simplicitie.
He pres'd no grapes, nor prun'd the fruitfull vine,
But could of water make a brisker wine.
Nor did he plow the earth, and to his Barne
The harvest bring, nor thresh, and grind the Corne.
Without all these Love could supply our need;
And with five L [...]aves, five thousand Hungers feed.
[Page 96]More wonders did he, for all which suppose
How he was crown'd, with Lilly, or with Rose?
The winding Ivy, or the glorious Bay,
Or mirtle, with the which Venus, they say,
Girts her proud Temples? Shepheards none of them
But wore (poore head) a thorny Diadem.
Feet to the Lame he gave; with which they run
To worke their Surgeons last destruction.
The blind from him had eyes; but us'd that light
Like Basy lisques to kill him with their sight.
Lastly he was betray'd (ô sing of this)
How Love could be betray'd! 'twas with a kisse.
And then his Innocent hands, and guiltlesse feet
Were nayl'd unto the Crosse, striving to meet
In his spread armes his spouse, so mild in showe
He seem'd to court th' Imbraces of his foe.
Through his pearc'd side, through which a speare was sent,
A torrent of all flowing Balsame went.
Run Amarillis run: one drop from thence
Cures thy sad soule, and drives all anguish hence.
Goe sunburnt Thestylis, goe, and repaire
Thy beauty lost, and be againe made faire.
Love-sick Amyntas get a Philtrum here,
To make thee Lovely to thy truly deare.
But coy Licoris take the Pearle from thine,
And take the blood shot from Alexis eyne.
Weare this an Amulet 'gainst all Syrens smiles,
The stings of snakes, and Teares of Crocodiles.
Now Love is lead: Oh no, he never dyes;
Three dayes he sleepes, and then againe doth rise
[Page 97](Like faire Aurora from the Easterne Bay)
And with his beams drives all our clouds away:
This pipe unto our flocks, this sonnet get.
But hoe, I see the Sun ready to set,
Good night to all; for the great night is come;
Flocks to your folds and shepheards hye you home.!
To morrow morning, when we all have slept,
Pan's Cornet's blowne, and the great Sheepshears kept.

An Eglogue to Mr Iohnson.

VNder his Beech why sit'st thou here so sad
Son Damon, that wast erst a joviall lad?
These groves were wont to Eccho with the sound
Of thy shrill reed, while every Nymph danc'd round.
Rowse up thy soule, Parnassus mount stands high,
And must be climb'd with painefull industrie.
You Father on his forked top sit still,
And see us panting up so steepe a hill;
But I have broke my reed, and deeply swore
Never with wax, never to joynt it more.
Fond boy▪ 'twas rashly done; I meant to thee,
Of all the sons I have, by legacie
To have be queath'd my pipe, thee, thee of all,
I meant it should her second Master call.
And doe you thinke I durst presume to play
Where Tityrus had worne his lip away!
Live long thy selfe to tune it; 'tis from thee,
[Page 98]It has not from it self such Harmony.
But if we ever such disaster have
As to compose our Tytirus in his grave;
Yonder upon you aged Oak, that now
Old trophies bears on every sacred bow,
We'le hang it up a relique, we will doe it,
And learned swains shall pay devotion to it.
Canst thou farewell unto the Muses bid?
Then bees shall loath the Thyme, the new wean'd Kid
Browze on the buds no more; the teeming ewes
Henceforth the tender sallows shall refuse.
I by those Ladies now do nothing set;
Let 'em for me some other servant get:
They shall no more be Mistresses of mine,
No, though my pipe had hope to equall thine.
Thine which the floods have stopt their course to hear;
To which the spotted Linx hath lent an eare.
Which while the severall Ecchoes would repeat,
The Musick has been sweet, the Art so great
That Pan himself amaz'd at thy deep aires,
Sent thee of his own bowl to drown thy cares.
Of all the Gods Pan doth the Pipe respect.
The rest unlearned pleasures more affect.
Pan can distinguish what thy Raptures be
From Bavius loose lascivious Minstralsie,
Or Maevius windy Bagpipe, Maevius, he
Whose wit is but a Tavern Tympanie.
If ever I flock of my own doe feed,
My fattest Lambs shall on his Altar bleed.
Two Altars I will build him, and each yeare
[Page 99]Will sacrifice two wel-fed Bullocks there.
Two that have horns; that while they butting stand
Strike from their feet a cloud of numerous sand.
But what can make thee leave the Muses man,
That such a Patron hast as mighty Pan?
Whence is thy fury? Did the partiall eare
Of the rude Vulgar, when they late did heare
Aegon, and thee contend which best should play,
Him Victour deem, and give thy kid away?
Does Amarillis cause this high despaire?
Or Galatea's coynesse breed thy care?
Neither of these, the Vulgar I contemn;
Thy pipe not alwaies Tytirus wins with them:
And as for Love, in sooth I doe not know
Whether he wears a bow, and shafts or no.
Or did I, I a way could quickly find,
To win the beauteous Galatea's mind,
Or Amarillis: I to both could send
Apples that with Hesperian fruit contend:
And on occasion could have quickly guest
Where two fayr ring-doves built their amorous nest.
If none of these, my Damon then aread
What other cause can so much passion breed!
Father I will, in those indulgent ears
I dare unload the burden of my fears.
The Reapers that with whetted siccles stand,
Gathering the falling ears 'ith' other hand;
Though they endure the scorching summers heat,
Have yet some wages to allay their sweat:
The Lopper that doth fell the sturdy Oak
[Page 100]Labours, yet has good pay for every stroke.
The Plowman is rewarded: only we
That sing, are paid with our own melody.
Rich churls have learn't to praise us, and admire,
But have not learn't to think us worth the hire.
So toyling Ants perchance delight to hear
The summer musique of the Grassopper,
But after rather let him starve with pain,
Then spare him from their store one single grain.
As when great Iunos beauteous Bird displaies
Her starry tail, the boyes doe run and gaze
At her proud train; so look they now adaies
On Poets; and doe think if they but praise,
Or pardon what we sing, enough they doe:
I, and 'tis well if they doe so much too.
My rage is swel'd so high I cannot speak it,
Had I Pan's pipe, or thine I now should break it!
Let moles delight in Earth; Swine dung hils rake;
Crows prey on Cartion; Frogs a pleasure take
In slimy pools; And Niggards wealth admire;
But we, whose souls are made of purer fire,
Have other aimes: Who songs for gain hath made,
Has of a liberall Science fram'd a Trade.
Hark how the Nightingale in yonder tree,
Hid in the boughes, warbles melodiously
Her various musique forth, while the whole Quire
Of other birds, flock round, and all admire!
But who rewards her? will the ravenous Kite
Part with her prey, to pay for her delight?
Or will the foolish, painted, pratling Iay
[Page 101]Now turn'd a hearer, to requite her play
Lend her a straw? or any of the rest
Fetch her a feather when she builds her nest?
Yet sings she ne're the lesse, till every den
Doe catch at her last notes: And shall I then
His fortunes Damon 'bove my own commend,
Who can more cheese into the market send?
Clowns for posterity may cark and care,
That cannot out-live death but in an Heire:
By more then wealth we propagate our Names,
That trust not to successions, but our Flames.
Let hide-bound churls yoak the laborious Oxe,
Milk hundred goats, and shear a thousand flocks;
Plant gainfull Orchards, and in silver shine;
Thou of all fruits should'st only prune the Vine:
Whose fruit being tasted, might erect thy brain
To reach some ravishing, high, and lofty strain;
The double birth of Bacchus to expresse,
First in the grape, the second in the presse.
And therefore tell me boy, what is 't can move
Thy mind, once fixed on the Muses Love?
When I contented liv'd by Cham's fair streams,
Without desire to see the prouder Thames,
I had no flock to care for, but could sit
Vnder a willow covert, and repeat
Those deep and learned layes, on every part
Grounded on judgment, subtil'ty, and Art,
That the great Tutour to the greatest King,
The shepheard of Stagira, us'd to sing:
The shepheard of Stagira, that unfolds
[Page 102]All natures closet, shows what e're it holds;
The matter, form, sense, motion, place, and measure
Of every thing contain'd in her vast treasure.
How Elements doe change; What is the cause
Of Generation; what the Rule, and Laws
The Orbs doe move by; Censures every starre,
Why this is fixt, and that irregular;
Knows all the Heavens, as if he had been there,
And help't each Angell turn about her spheare.
The thirsty pilgrim travelling by land,
When the feirce Dog-starre doth the day command,
Half choak't with dust, parch't with the soultry heat;
Tir'd with his journey, and o'recome with sweat,
Finding a gentle spring, at her cool brink
Doth not with more delight sit down and drink,
Then I record his songs: we see a cloud,
And fearing to be wet, doe run and shroud
Vnder a bush; when he would sit and tell
The cause that made her mystie wombe to swell;
Why it sometimes in drops of rain doth flow,
Sometimes dissolves her self in flakes of snow:
Nor gaz'd he at a Comet, but would frame
A reason why it wore a beard of flame.
Ah Tytirus, I would withall my heart,
Even with the best of my carv'd mazers part,
To hear him as he us'd divinely shew,
What 'tis that paints the divers-colour'd bow:
Whence Thunders are discharg'd, whence the winds stray,
What foot through heaven hath worn the milky way!
And yet I let this true delight alone,
[Page 103]Call'd thence to keep the flock of Corydon.
Ah woe is me, anothers flock to keep;
The care is mine, the master shears the sheep!
A flock it was that would not keep together;
A flock that had no fleece, when it came hither
Nor would it learn to listen to my layes,
For 'twas a flock made up of severall strayes:
And now I would return to Cham, I hear
A desolation frights the Muses there!
With rustique swains I mean to spend my time;
Teach me there father to preserve my rime.
Tomorrow morning I will counsel thee,
Meet me at Faunus Beech; for now you see
How larger shadows from the mountains fall,
And Corydon doth Damon, Damon, call.
Damon, 'tis time my flock were in the fold,
More then high time; did you not erst behold
How Hesperus above yo [...] clouds appear'd,
Hesperus leading forth his beauteous heard?

A Pastorall Courtship.

BEhold these woods, and mark my Sweet
How all the boughes together meet!
The Cedar his fair arms displayes,
And mixes branches with the Bayes.
The lofty Pine deignes to descend,
And sturdy Oaks doe gently bend.
[Page 104]One with another subt'ly weaves
Into one loom their various leaves;
As all ambitious were to be
Mine and my Phyllis canopie!
Let's enter, and discourse our Loves;
These are, my Dear, no tell-tale groves▪
There dwell no Pyes, nor Parrats there,
To prate again the words they heare,
Nor babling Eccho, that will tell
The neighbouring hills one syllable.
Being enter'd let's together lye,
Twin'd like the Zodiaks Gemini!
How soon the flowres doe sweeter smell▪
And all with emulation swell,
To be thy pillow? These for thee
Were meant a bed, and thou for me;
And I may with as just esteem
[...] thee, as thou maist lye on them.
And why so coy? What dost thou feare?
There lurks no speckled Serpent here.
No Venemous snake makes this his rode,
No Canker, nor the loath some [...]oad.
And yo [...] poo [...] spider on the tree,
Thy spinster will, no poisner be.
There is no Frog to leap, and fright
Thee from my arms, and break delight;
Nor snail that o're thy coat shall trace,
And leave behind a slimy lace.
This is the hallowed shrine of Love,
No wasp nor hornet haunts this grove,
[Page 105]Nor pismire to make pimples rise,
Vpon thy smooth and ivory thighes.
No danger in these shades doth lye,
Nothing that wears a sting, but I:
And in it doth no venome dwell,
Although perchance it make thee swell.
Being set, let's sport a while, my Fair,
I will tye Love knots in thy haire.
See Zephyrus through the leaves doth stray,
And has free liberty to play;
And braids thy locks: And shall I find
Lesse favour then a saucy wind▪
Now let me sit, and fix my eyes,
On thee that art my Paradis▪
Thou art my all; the spring remains
In the fair violets of thy veins▪
And that it is a summers day,
Ripe Cherries in thy lips display.
And when for Autumn I would seek,
'Tis in the Apples o [...] thy cheek.
But that which only moves my smart,
Is to see winter in thy heart.
Strange, when at once in one appear
All the four seasons of the year!
I'le clasp that neck where should be set
A rich and Orient Carkanet:
But swains are poor, admit of then
More naturall chains, the arms of men.
Come let me touch those brests, that swell
Like two fair mountains, and may well▪
[Page 901]Be stil'd the Alpes, but that I feare
The snow has lesse of whitenesse there.
But stay (my Love) a fault I spy,
Why are these two fair fountains dry,
Which if they run, no Muse would please
To tast of any spring but these.
And Ganymed employ'd should bee
To fetch his love Nectar from thee.
Thou shalt be Nurse fair Venus swears,
To the Next Cupid that she bears.
Were it not then discreetly done
To ope one spring to let two runne?
Fy, fy, this Belly, Beauty's mint,
Blushes to see no coyn stampt in't.
Employ it then, for though it be
Our wealth, it is your royaltie;
And beauty will have currant grace
That bears the Image of your face.
How to the touch the Ivory thighes
Veil gently, and again doe rise,
As pliable to impression,
As Virgins waxe, or Parian stone
Dissolv'd to softnesse, plump and full,
More white and soft then Cotsall wooll;
Or Cotten from the Indian Tree,
Or pretty silkworms huswifrie.
These on two marble pillars rais'd
Make me in doubt which should be praisd;
They, or their Columnes must; but when
I veiw those feet which I have seen
[Page 107]So nimbly trip it o're the Lawns
That all the Satyrs and the fawns
Have stood amaz'd, when they would passe
Over the leyes, and not a grasse
Would feel the weight, nor rush, nor bent
Drooping betray which way you went.
O then I felt my hot desires
Burn more; and flame with double fires.
Come let those thighes, those legs, those feet
With mine in thousand windings meet.
And woven in more subtle twines
Then woodbine, Ivy, or the vines.
For when Love sees us circling thus
He'le like no Arbour more then us.
Now let us kisse, would you be gone▪
Manners at least allows me one.
Blush you at this, pretty one stay,
And I will take that kisse away.
Thus with a second, and that too
A third wipes of, so will we goe
To numbers that the starrs out run,
And all the Atoms in the Sun.
For though we kisse till Phaebus ray
Sink in the seas, and kissing stay
Till his bright beams return again,
There can of all but one remain:
And if for one good manners call,
In one good manners grant me all.
Are kisses all? they but forerun
Another duty to be done.
[Page 108]What would you of that minstrell say
That tunes his pipes and will not play?
Say what are blossoms in their prime,
That ripen not in harvest time?
Or what are buds that ne're disclose
The long'd for sweetnesse of the rose?
So kisses to a Lover's guest
Are invitations not the feast.
See every thing that wee spy
Is fruitfull, saving you and I:
Veiw all the feilds, survey the bowers,
The buds, the blossoms and the flowers▪
And say if they so rich could be
In barren base Virginitie.
Earth's not so coy as you are now,
But willingly admits the plow.
For how had man or beast been fed,
If she had kept her maiden head?
Coelia once coy as are the rest
Hangs now a babe on either brest;
And Chloris since a man she took,
Has lesse of greennesse in her look.
Our ewes have ean'd, and every damme▪
Gives suck unto her tender Lambe.
As by these groves we walk'd a long,
Some Birds were feeding of their young,
Some on their egges did brooding sit,
Sad that they had not hatch'd them yet.
Those that were slower then the rest,
Were busy building of their nest.
[Page 109]You will not only pay the fine,
You vow'd and ow'd to V [...]lentine.
As you were angling in the brook
With silken line and silver hook,
Through Christall streams you might descry
How vast and numberlesse a fry
The fish had spawn'd, that all along
The banks were crowded with the throng.
And shall fair Venus more command
By water then she does by land?
The Phoenix chast yet when she dyes,
Her self with her own ashes lyes.
But let thy Love more wisely thrive
To doe the act while th' art alive.
'Tis time we left our childish Love
That trades for toyes, and now approve
Our abler skill; they are not wise
Look Babies only in the eyes.
That smooth red smile shews what you meant,
And modest silence gives consent.
That which we now prepare, will bee
Best done in silent secresie.
Come doe not weep, what is't you feare?
Least some should know what we did here.
See not a flowre you prest is dead,
But re-erects his bended head;
That who soe're shall passe this way
Knows not by these where Phyllis lay.
And in your forehead there is none
Can read the act that we have done.
Poore credulous and simple maid!
By what strange wiles art thou betraid!
A treasure thou hast lost to day
For which thou canst no ransome pay.
How black art thou transform'd with sin!
How strange a guilt gnaws me within!
Greif will convert this red to pale;
When every Wake, and whitsund-ale
Shall talk my shame; break, break sad heart
There is no Medicine for my smart,
No hearb nor balm can cure my sorrow,
Vnlesse you meet again to morrow.

Vpon a very deformed Gentlewoman, but of a voice incomparably sweet.

I chanc'd sweet Lesbia's voice to heare,
O that the pleasure of the eare
Contented had the appetite;
But I must satisfy the sight;
Where such a [...]ace I chanc'd to see
From which good Lord deliver me.
I'st not prophane if I should tell
I thought her one of those that fell
With Lucifers Apostate traine
Yet did her Angels voice retaine?
A cherubin her notes descry'd,
[Page 111]A Divell every where beside.
Aske the dark woods, and they'le confesse
None did such Harmony expresse
In all their bowres from May to Iune,
Yet nere was face so out of tune.
Her Virginall teeth false time did keep,
Her wrinkled forhead went too deep.
Lower then Gammath sunke her eyes,
'Bove Ela though her nose did rise.
I'le trust Musitians now that tell
Best musique doth in discords dwell.
Her ayres entic'd the gentle quire
Of Birds to come, who all admire,
And would with pleasure longer stay,
But that her looks frights them away.
Which for a good Priapus goes
And well may serve to scarre the crowes.
Her voice might tempt th'immortall race,
But let her only shew her face,
And soone shee might extinguish thus
The lusting of an Incubus.
So have I seene a lute ore worne,
Old and rotten, patcht and torne,
So ravish with a sound, and bring
A close so sweet to every string,
As would strike wonder in our eares,
And work an envy in the Spheares.
Say monster strange, what maist thou be?
Whence shall I fetch thy Pedigree?
What but a Panther could beget
[Page 102]A beast so foule, a breath so sweet?
Or thou of Syrens issue art,
If they be fish the upper part.
Or else blind Homer was not mad
Then when he sung Vlysses had
So strange a guift from Aeolus,
Who odour-breathing Zephyrus
In severall bottles did inclose,
For certain thou art one of those.
Thy lookes, where other women place
Their chiefest Pride, is thy disgrace.
The tongue, a part which us'd to be
Worst in thy Sexe, is best in thee.
Were I but now to choose my deare
Not by my eye, but by my eare,
Here would I dote; how shall I wooe
Thy voice, and not thy body too?
Then all the brood I get of thee,
Would Nightingalls, and Cygnets be:
Cygnets betimes their throats to trye,
Borne with more Musique then they dye.
Say Lesbia, say, what God will blesse
Our Loves with so much happinesse?
Some women are all tongue, but ô
Why art not thou my Lesbia so!
Thy looks doe speak thee witch; one spell
To make thee but invisible,
Or dye; resigne thy selfe to death,
And I will catch thy latest breath;
But that the nose will scarce I feare
[Page 113]Finde it so sweet, as did the eare.
Or if thou wouldst not have me coy,
As was the selfe-inam our'd Boy,
Turne only Voice, an Eccho prove,
Here, here, by heav'n, I fixe my Love:
If not, you Gods, to ease my mind,
Or make her dumbe, or strike me blind;
For griefe, and anger in me rise,
Whil'st shee hath tongue, or I have eyes.

The milk-maids Epithalamium.

IOy to the Bridegroome and the Bride
That lye by one anothers side!
O fie upon the Virgin Bedds,
No losse is gain but Maiden heads.
Love quickly send the time may be
When I shall deal my Rosemary!
I long to simper at a feast,
To dance, and kisse, and doe the rest.
When I shall wed, and Bedded be
O then the qualme comes over me,
And tells the sweetnesse of a Theame
That I ne're knew but in a dreame.
You Ladies have the blessed nights,
I pine in hope of such delights.
[Page 114]And silly Dam'sell only can
Milk the cowes teats and think on man:
And sigh and wish to tast and prove
The wholesome Sillibub of Love.
Make hast, at once twin-Brothers beare;
And leave new matter for a starre.
Woemen and ships are never shown
So fair as when their sayles be blown.
Then when the Midwife hears your moane,
I'le sigh for grief that I have none.
And you, deare Knight, whose every kisse
Reapes the full crop of Cupids blisse,
Now you have found, confesse and tell
That single sheets doe make up hell.
And then so charitable be
To get a man to pitty me.

An Eglogue on the noble Assemblies revivedon Cotswold Hills, by M. Robert Dover.

  • Collen,
  • Thenot.
VVHat Clod-pates, Thenot, are our Brittish swains,
How lubber-like they loll upon the plains?
No life, no spirit in 'em; every Clown
Soone as he layes his Hook and Tarbox down,
That ought to take his Reed, and chant his layes,
[Page 115]Or nimbly run the winding of the Maze,
Now gets a bush to roam himselfe, and sleepe;
Tis hard to know the shepheard from the sheepe.
And yet me thinks our English pastures be
As flowery as the Lawnes of Arcadie;
Our Virgins blith as theirs, nor can proud Greece
Boast purer ayre, nor sheer a finer fleece.
Yet view their out-side, Collen, you would say
They have as much brawn in their necks as they
Fair Tempe braggs of; lusty armes that swell
With able sinews, and might hurle as well
The weightie sledge; their leggs, and thighs of bone,
Great as Colossus, yet their strength is gone.
They look like yonder man of wood, that stands
To bound the limits of the Parish lands.
Dost thou ken, Collen, what the cause might be
Of such a dull and generall Lethargie?
Swain, with their sports their soules were ta'ne away,
Till then they all were active, every day
They exercis'd to weild their limbs, that now
A renumb'd to every thing, but flail and plow.
Early in May up got the jolly rout
Call'd by the Lark, and spred the feilds about:
One for to breath himselfe, would coursing be
From this same Beech, to yonder Mulberie.
A second leapt, his supple nerves to try,
A third was practising his melody.
This a new Iigg was footing, others were
Busied at wrestling, or to throw the Barre:
Ambitious which should beare the bell away,
[Page 116]And kisse the Nut-brown Lady of the May.
This stirr'd'em up; a Iolly swain was he
Whom Peg, and Susan after Victory
Crown'd with a garland they had made, beset
With Daisies, Pincks and many a Violet,
Cowslip, and Gilliflower. Rewards though small
Encourage vertue; but if none at all
Meet her, she languisheth, and dyes, as now
Where worth's deny'd the honour of a bough.
And, Thenot, this the cause I read to be
Of such a dull and generall Lethargie.
Ill thrive the Lowt that did their mirth gain-say,
Wolves haunt his flocks, that took those sports away▪
Some melancholy swains about have gone
To teach all zeal their owne complection:
Choler they will admit sometimes I see,
But Fleagme, and Sanguine no Religions be.
These teach that Dauncing is a Iezabell;
And Barley-break, the ready way to Hell.
The Morrice Idols, Whitsun'-ales can be
But prophane Reliques of a Iubilee!
These in a Zeal, t'expresse how much they doe
The Organs hate, have silenc'd Bag-pipes too;
And harmlesse May-poles, all are rail'd upon
As if they were the towers of Babilon.
Some think not fit there should be any sport
I'th Country, 'tis a dish proper to t'h Court.
Mirth not becomes 'em, let the sawcy swain
Eate Beef, and Bacon, and goe sweat again.
Besides, what sport can in their pastimes be
[Page 117]When all is but ridiculous fopperie?
Collen, I once the famous Spain did see,
A nation glorious for her gravitie;
Yet there an hundred Knights on warlike steeds
Did skirmish out a fight arm'd but with Reeds;
At which a thousand Ladies eyes did gaze,
Yet was no better then our Prison-base.
What is the Barriers but a Courtly way
Of our more down right sport, the Cudgell-play?
Foot-ball with us may be with them Baloone,
As they at Tilt, so we at Quintaine runne.
And those old Pastimes relish best with me,
That have least Art, and most simp [...]itie.
Collen, they say at Court there is an Art
To dance a Ladies honour from her hart;
Such wiles poor shepheards know not, all their sence
Is dull to any thing but Innocence.
The Country Lasse, although her dance be good,
Stirs not anothers Galliard in the Blood.
And yet their Sports by some controul'd have been,
Who think there is no mirth but what is sin.
O might I but there harmlesse Gambols see
Restor'd unto an ancient libertie,
Where spotlesse dalliance traces o're the Plains,
And harmlesse Nymphs jet it with harmlesse swains!
To see an age againe of Innocent Loves
Twine close as Vines, yet kisse as chast as Doves,
Me thinks I could the Thracian Lyre have strung,
Or tun'd my whistle to the Mantuan song.
Then tune thy whistle boy, and string thy Lyre,
[Page 118]That age is come againe, thy brave desire
Pan hath approv'd; dauncing shall bee this yeare
Holy as is the motion of a Spheare.
Collen, with sweeter breath Fame never blew
Her sacred Trump, if this good newes be true!

Knowst thou not Cotswold hils?

Through all the land
No Finer wooll runnes through the spinsters hand.
But silly Collen, ill thou dost divine,
Canst thou mistake a Bramble for a Pine?
Or think this Bush a Cedar? or suppose
Yo'n Hamlet, where to sleepe each shepheard goes
In circuit, buildings, people, power and name
Equalls the Bow [...]ring'd by the silver Thame?
As well thou maist their sports with ours compare,
As the soft wooll of Lambs, with the Goates haire.
Last evening Lad, I met a noble swaine,
That spurr'd his springhtfull Palfrey ore the plain,
His head with ribbands crown'd, and deckt as gay
As any Lasse upon her Bridall day:
I thought (what easy faiths we sheapheards prove!)
This, not the Bull, had been Europa's Love!
I ask't the cause, they told me this was he
Whom this daies Triumph crownd with Victory.
Many brave steeds there were, some you should finde
So fleet as they had been sonnes of the winde:
Others with hoofs so swift, beat o're the race
As if some engine shot 'em to the place.
So many and so well wing'd Steeds there were,
As all the Brood of Pegasus had been there.
Rider, and horse could not distinguish'd be,
[Page 119]Both seem'd conjoyn'd a Centaure's Progeny.
A numerous troop they were, yet all so light
Earth never groan'd, nor felt'em in their flight.
Such Royall Pastimes Cotswold mountains fill,
When gentle swains visit her glorious hill:
Where with such packs of Hounds they hunting goe,
As Cyrus ne're did winde his Bugle to!
Whose noise is musicall; and with full cries
Beats o're the feilds, and Ecchoes through the skies.
Orion hearing wish'd to leave his Spheare,
And call his Dogge from heaven, to sport it there.
Watt though he fled for life, yet joy'd withall
So brave a dirge sung forth his funerall.
Not Syrens sweetlier rill, Hares as they flie
Look back, as glad to listen, loth to die.
No doubt but from this brave Heroick fire
In the more noble hearts, sparks of desire
May warme the colder Boores, and emulous strife
Give the old Mirth and Innocence a new life.
When thoughts of fame their quickned souls shall fill
At every glaunce that shewes'em Cotswold hill.
There shepheard, there, the solemn games be playd,
Such as great Theseus, or Alcides made:
Such as Apollo wishes he had seene,
And love desires had his invention beene!
The Nemean, and the Isthmian pastimes still
Though dead in Greece, survive on Cotswold hill.
Oh happy hill! the gentle Graces now
Shall trip o're Thine and leave Citherons brow:
Parnassus clift shall sink below his spring,
[Page 120]And every Muse shall on thy frontlet sing.
The Goddesses againe in strife shall be,
And from mount Ida make appeale to thee;
Olympus pay thee homage and in dread
The aged Alpes shall bow his snowy head;
Flora with all her storethy Temples Crowne,
Whose height shall reach the stars: Gods looking down
Shall blesse the Incense that thy flowers ex hale
And make thee both a Mountain and a Vale.
How many Ladies on thy top shall meet,
And presse thy tresses with their od'rous feet?
Whose eyes when wondring men see from a farre,
They'le think thee Heaven and each of them a starre,
But gentle Collen say what God or man
Fame we for this great worke, Daphnis or Pan?
Daphnis is dead, and Pan hath broke his Reed,
Tell all your flocks 'tis Ioviall Dover's deed.
Behold the shepheards in their ribbands goe,
And shortly all the Nymphs shall wear'em too:
Amaz'd to see such glory met together,
Blesse Dovers pipe, whose Musick call'd'em hither.
Sport you my Rams at sound of Dovers name;
Big-bellied ewes make hast to bring a Lambe
For Dovers fold: Goe maids and Lillies get
To make him up a glorious Coronet.
Swains keep his holy-day and each man swear
To Saint him in the Shepheards Calendar.

Ad Medicum.

HEu, quae me Cholchis, magico quae Thessala cantu
Sic cruciat miserū, & tantis coquit ilia flammis?
Aut quae cer a meas torret liquefact a medullas?
Mitius in Lybiam Phaebijubar antra leonis
Ingressum furit, & Vulcania mitiùs Aetna
Saeviit, ardentes cineres, multam (que) favillam
In Calabros iaculata sinus: Heu, quis mihi vestes
Induit Herculeas? nam sentio virus, & omnes
Ebullire meas Nessaeo sanguine venas!
Mille licet pas [...]as fibrâ crescente volucres,
Felicem Titium, multo quem frigore stringit
Caucasus! O liceat mihi tecum monte sub illo
Aeternum tractare gelu, glacie (que) perenni
Demulcere animum, nivibus (que) extinguere flammas!
Aut tecum sitiam, gelidis modò detur in undis
Stare, tuis (que) meum lymphis solarier aestum,
Tantale; nam (que) uror miserè miser, aestuat intùs
Indomitus, totos (que) ignis depascitur artus.
Dum gliscit calor, & saevo coquit igne cruorem,
Intumet extemplò cutis, exurgit (que) tumescens
Purpureâ maculâ, & multo distincta rubore;
Non alitèr quàm de caelo cum decidit imber,
Plurima (vidi etenim) medio natat aequore bulla;
Aut quale in nostris (saepe est videre) culinis
Cum primum verubus stridet caro: Belides in me,
In me per petuam diffundite, Belides, urnam.
Gens est, humanos, quae dicitur, impia, carnes
Condere visceribus; me, me, petat, & voret ore
Iam tostum iecur: heu, fervent mea & omnia membra
[Page 78]Apta Thyestaeis vivunt convivia mensis.
At cum flamma satis totos bacchata per artus
Len ius ardescens deferbuit, illicò turgens
Descendit cutis, & paulò nunc mitius uror.
Tandem omnis calor expirat, videor (que) repentè
Taygeti montis, gelidive in vallibus Haemi
Ramorum densâ requiescere tectus in umbra;
Et tandèm revocata suas redit, improba, vires,
Flamma, premit (que) iterum, solitis (que) caloribus urit▪
Tunc mihi scintillant oculi; tremulum (que) videntes
Imbelli spectant acie, binaomnia, bina
Conspicor, & binis exurgit mensa lucernis;
Tum videor Stygiis undis, ipso (que) Acharonte
Immergi, videor flagranti claudier aere,
In (que) Perillaeo mugire incendia Tauro.
Sum meus ipse Rogus: quae tantas pabula possunt,
Quo valeam tantas nutrire bitumine flammas?
Si qua est herbarum virtus (quae maxima certeest)
Extinguas plusquam Phaebeos, (Phaebe) calores:
Extinguas, precor, & cocto mihi redde salutem,
Vt semel annosum reparaverat Aesona Colchis:
Vt (que) Aries iuvenem rediit grandaevus in Agnum.

The Song of Orpheus.

HAile sacred Deserts, whom kind nature made
Only to shelter with a loving shade,
The now neglected Musique, glad to see
Lyons afford her hospitality,
[Page 75]And Tigers bid her welcome, with the rest
Of savage beasts accept her for a guest,
Since Men refuse her, and scarce daigne an eare
To her high notes; or if they please to heare,
Tis all; amongst my Pupills, you may see
The birds that learn'd their sweetest laies of me;
Those that chant Carols in this thanklesse age
To pleasure men, rewarded with a Cage.

A Maske for Lydia.

SWeet Lydia take this maske, and shroud
Thy face within the silken cloud,
And veile those powerfull Skies:
For he whose gazing dares so high aspire,
Makes burning glasses of his eyes,
And sets his heart on fire.
Vaile, Lydia, vaile, for unto mee
There is no basiliske but thee.
Thy very lookes doe kill:
Yet in those lookes so fixt is my delight,
Poore soule (alas) I languish still
In absence of thy sight.
Close up those eyes, or we shall finde
Too great a lustre strike us blind:
Or if a Ray so good
Ought to be seene, let it but then appeare
[Page 120] [...] [Page 121] [...] [Page 78] [...] [Page 75] [...] [Page 78] [...] [Page 75] [...] [Page 124]When Eagles doe produce their brood'
To try their young ones there.
Or if thou would'st have me to know
How great a brightnesse thou canst shew;
When they have lost the Sun;
Then doe thou rise, and give the world this theme,
Sol from th' Hesperides is run,
And back hath whipt his teame.
Yet through the Goat when he shall stray,
Thou through the Crab must take thy way;
For should you both shine bright
In the same Tropick, we poore moles should get
Not so much comfort by the light,
As torment by the heat.
Where's Lydia now? where shall I seeke
Her charming lip, her tempting cheeke
That my affections bow'd?
So dark a sable hath ecclipst my faire,
That I can gaze upon the cloud,
That durst not see the Star.
But yet me thinkes my thoughts begin
To say there lies a white within,
Though black her pride controule:
And what care I how black a face I see,
So there be whitenesse in the soule,
Still such an Ethiop be.

A parley with his empty Purse.

PVrse, who'l not know you have a Poets been
When he shall look and find no gold herein?
What respect (think you) will there now be shown
To this foule nest, when all the birds are flowne?
Vnnaturall vacuum, can your emptinesse
Answer to some slight questions, such as these?
How shall my debts be paid? or can my scores
Be cleer'd with verses to my Creditors?
Hexameter's no sterling, and I feare
What the brain coynes goes scarce for currant there.
Can meeter cancell bonds? is here a time
Ever to hope to wipe out chalke with rime?
Or if I now were hurrying to the jaile
Are the nine Muses held sufficient baile?
Would they to any composition come,
If we should morgage our Elisium,
Tempe, Parnassus, and the golden streames
Of Tagus, and Pactolus, those rich dreames
Of active fancy? Can our Orpheus move
Those rocks, and stones with his best straines of love?
Should I (like Homer) sing in lofty tones
To them Achilles, and his Myrmidons;
Hector, and Aiax are but Sergeants names,
They rellish bay-salt, 'bove the Epigrams
Of the most season'd braine, nor will they be
Content with Ode, or paid with Elegy.
Muse, burne thy baies, and thy fond quill resigne,
[Page 82]One crosse of theirs is worth whole books of mine.
Of all the treasure which the Poets hold
There's none at all they weigh, except our gold;
And mine's return'd to th' Indies, and hath swore
Never to visit this cold climate more.
Thē crack your strings good Purse, for you need none;
Gape on, as they doe to be paid, gape on.

Vpon Love fondly refus'd for Conscience sake.

NAture, Creations law, is judg'd by sense,
Not by the Tyrant conscience.
Then our commission gives us leave to doe
What youth and pleasure prompts us to:
For we must question else heavens great decree,
And taxe it with a Treachery;
If things made sweet to tempt our appetite
Should with a guilt staine the delight.
Higher powers rule us, our selves can nothing doe;
Who made us love, made't lawfull too.
It was not love, but love transform'd to vice
Ravish'd by envious Avarice,
Made women first impropriate; all were free,
Inclosures mans Inventions be.
I'th' golden age no action could be found
For trespasse on my neighbours ground:
'Twas just with any Fayre to mixe our blood;
The best is most diffusive good.
She that confines her beams to one mans sight,
[Page 79]Is a darke Lanth orne to a glorious Light.
Say, does the Virgin-spring l [...]sse chast appear
Cause many Thirsts are quenched there?
Or have you not with the same odours met
When more have smelt your violet?
The Phenix is not angry at her nest,
Cause her perfumes make others blest:
Though Incense to th'eternall Gods be meant,
Yet mortalls Rivall in the sent.
Man is the Lord of creatures, yet we see
That all his vassals loves are free:
The severe wedlocks fetters doe not bind
The Pard's inflam'd, and amorous mind;
But that he may be like a Bridegroome led
Even to the Royall Lyons bed.
The birds may for a yeare their loves confine,
But make new choyce each Valentine.
If our affections then more servile be
Then are our slaves, where's mans soveraignty?
Why then by pleasing more, should you lesse please,
And spare the sweets being more sweet then these?
If the fiesh Trunke have sap enough to give
That each insertive branch may live;
The Gardner grafts not only Apples there,
But addes the Warden and the Peare,
The Peach, and Apricock together grow,
The Cherry, and the Damson too.
Till he hath made by skilfull husbandry
An intire Orchard of one Tree.
So least our Paradise perfection want,
[Page 128]We may as well inoculate as plant.
What's Conscience but a Beldams midnight theme?
Or nodding nurses idle dreame?
So feign'd, as are the Goblins, Elves, and Fairies
To watch their Orchards, and their Dairies.
For who can tell when first her reigne begun?
I'th' state of innocence was none:
And since large Conscience (as the proverb shewes)
In the same sense with bad one goes,
The lesse the better then, whence this will fall,
'Tis to be perfect to have none at all.
Suppose it be a vertue rich, and pure,
'Tis not for Spring, or Summer sure,
Nor yet for Autumne; Love must have his prime,
His warmer heats, and harvest time.
Till we have flourish'd, growne, and reap'd our wishes,
What Conscience dares oppose our kisses?
But when times colder hand leads us neare home,
Then let that winter-vertue come:
Frost is till then prodigious; we may doe
What youth and pleasure prompts us to.


By T. R.


OXFORD, Printed by Leonard Lichfield, for Francis Bowman. 1638.




SCEN. 1.

Enter Bird a Featherman, and Mrs Flowrdew wife to a Haber­dasher of small wares; the one having brought feathers to the Play-house, the other Pins and Looking-glasses; two of the sanctified fraternity of Black-friers.

SEe Brother how the wicked throng and crowd
To works of Vanity! not a nooke, or corner
In all this house of sin, this cave of filthinesse,
This den of spirituall theeves, but it is stuff'd,
Stuffed, and stuff'd full as is a cushion
With the lew'd Reprobate.
Sister, were there not before Innes,
Yes I will say Inns, for my zeale bids me
Say filthy Innes, enough to harbour such
As travell'd to destruction the broad way;
[Page 2]But they [...] more and more, more shops of Satan.
[...] aboundeth, though pure zeale
Teach, preach, huffe, puffe and snuffe at it, yet still
Still it aboundeth. Had we seen a Church,
A new built Church erected North and South,
It had been something worth the wondring at.

Good workes are done.

I say no works are Good.
Good works are meerely Popish and Apocryphall.
But th'bad abound, surround, yea & confound us▪
No matveile now if Play-howses increase,
For they are all grown so obscene of late
That one begets another.
Flat fornication!
[...] wonder any body takes delight
To hear them prattle.
Nay and I have heard
That in a—Tragedy, I think they call it,
They make no more of killing one another,
Then you sell pinnes.
Or you sell feathers brother.
But are they not hang'd for it?
Law growes partiall,
And findes it but Chance-medly: And their Comedies
Will abuse you, or me, or any body;
We cannot put our monies to increase
By lawfull Vsury, nor Breake in quiet,
Nor put off our false wares, nor keep our wives
Finer then others, but our Ghosts must walke
Vpon their stages.
[Page 3]
Is not this flat conjureing,
To make our Ghosts to walke ere we be dead?
Thats nothing Mrs Flowrdew, they will play
The Knave, the Foole, the Divell and all for mony.
Impiety! O that men indued with reason
Should have no more grace in them!
Be there not other
Vocations as thriving, and more honest?
Bailies, Promooters, Iaylors, and Apparitours,
Beadles, and Martialls men, the needfull instruments
Of the Republique; but to make themselves
Such monsters? for they are monsters, th'are monsters,
Base, sinfull, shamelesse, ugly, vile, deform'd
Pernitious monsters▪
I have heard our Vicar
Call Play-houses the Colledge [...] of Transgression,
Wherein the seven deadly sinnes are studied.
Why then the City will in time be made
An Vniversity of Iniquity.
We dwell by Black-Friers Colledge, where I wonder
How that prophane nest of pernitious Birds
Dare roost themselves there in the midst of us,
So many good and well disposed persons.
O impudence!
It was a zealous prayer
I heard a Brother make, concerning Play-houses:

For Charity what is it?

That the Globe
Wherein (quoth he) reigns a whole world of vice,
Had been consum'd! The Phoenix burnt to Ashes.
[Page 4]The Fortune whipt for a blind whore: Blackfriers
He wonders how it scapd demolishing
I'th' time of reformation: lastly he wish'd
The Bull might crosse the Thames to the Bear-garden,
And there be soundly baited!

A good prayer.

Indeed it something pricks my Conscience,
I come to sell 'em Pins and Looking-glasses.
I have their custome too for all their feathers:
'Tis fit that we which are sincere Professors
Should gain by Infidels.

SCE. 2.

Enter Roscius a Player.

Mr Roscius we have brought the things you spake for.


Why tis well.


Pray sir what serve they for?


We use them in our Play.


Are you a Player?


I am Sir, what of that?

And is it lawfull?
Good sister lets convert him, will you use
So fond a calling?

And so impious?


So irreligious?


So unwarrantable?


Only to gain by vice?


To live by sinne?

My spleene is up: And live not you by sinne?
[Page 5]Take away vanity and you both may break.
What serves your lawfull trade of selling pins,
But to joynt gew-gawes, and to knit together
Gorgets, strips, neck-cloths, laces, ribbands, ruffs,
And many other such like toyes as these,
To make the Baby Pride a pretty Puppet?
And you sweet Featherman, whose ware though light
Oreweighs your Conscience, what serves your Trade
But to plume folly, to give Pride her wings,
To deck vain-glory? spoiling the Peacocks tayle
T'adorne an Idiots Coxcombe! O dull ignorance!
How ill 'tis understood what we doe meane
For good and honest! They abuse our Scene,
And say we live by vice: Indeed tis true
As the Physitians by diseases doe,
Only to cure them: They doe live we see
Like Cookes by pamp'ring prodigality,
Which are our fond accusers. On the stage
We set an Vsurer to tell this age
How ugly looks his soule: A prodigall
Is taught by us how farre from liberall
His folly bears him: Boldly I dare say
There has been more by us in some one Play
Laugh't into wit and vertue, then hath been
By twenty tedious Lectures drawn from sinne
And foppish humours; Hence the cause doth rise
Men are not wonn by th'eares so well as eyes.
First see what we present.
The sight is able
To unsanctify our eyes, and make 'em Carnall.
[Page 6]

Will you condemne without examination?

No Sister, let us call up all our zeale,
And try the strength of this temptation:
Satan shall see we dare defie his Engines.

I am content.

Then take your places here, I will come to you
And moralize the plot.
That moralizing
I doe approve, it may be for instruction.

SCE. 3.

Enter a deformed fellow.

Roscius, I heare you have a new Play to day.

We want not you to play Mephostopholis.
A pretty naturall vizard!

What have you there?


A Looking-glasse, or two.

What things are they?
Pray let me see them. Heaven, what sights are here!
I a've seene a Divell. Looking-glasses call you them?
There is no basilisque but a Looking-glasse.

Tis your own face you saw.

My own? thou liest:
I'de not be such a Monster for the world.

Look in it now with me, what [...]eest thou now?


An Angell and a Divell.

Look on that
Thou callst an Angell, mark it well, and tell me,
Is it not like my face?
[Page 7]

As twere the same.

Why so is that like thine. Dost thou not see,
'Tis not the glasse but thy deformitie
That makes this ugly shape; if they be fayre
That view the Glasse such the reflections are.
This serves the body: The soule sees her face
In Comedy, and has no other Glasse.
Nay then farewell, for I had rather see
Hell then a Looking-glasse or Comedie.
Exit Defor.
And yet me thinks if 'twere not for this Glasse,
Wherein the forme of man beholds his grace,
We could not find another way to see
How neere our shapes approach Divinitie.
Ladies, let they who will your glasse deride,
And say it is an Instrument of Pride:
I will commend you for it; there you see
If yee be fayre, how truly fayre yeebee:
Where finding beauteous faces, I doe know
You'l have the greater care to keepe them so.
A heavenly vision in your beauty lyes,
Which nature hath denied to your own eyes;
Were it not pitty you alone should bee
Debarr'd of that others are blest to see?
Then take your glasses, and your selves enjoy
The benefit of your selves; it is no toy,
Though ignorance at slight esteeme hath set her,
That will preserve us good or make us better.
A Country slut, (for such she was, though here
Ith City may be some as well as there:)
[Page 8]Kept her hands clean, (for those being alwaies seene
Had told her else how sluttish she had beene)
But [...]ad her face as nasty as the stall
Of a fishmonger, or a Vsurers Hall
Daub'd o [...]e with dirt: One might have dar'd to say
She was a true peice of Prometheus clay,
Not yet inform'd: And then her unkemb'd haire
Drest up with cobwebs, made her hag-like stare.
One day within her paile (for Country Lasses
(Faire Ladies) have no other Looking-glasses:).
She spied her uglinesse, and faine she would
Have blusht if through so much dirt she could:
Asham'd, within that water, that I say
Which shew'd her filth, she wash'd her filth away.
So Comedies, as Poets doe intend them,
Serve first to shew our faults and then to mend them▪
Vpon our Stage two glasses oft there be,
The Comick Mirrour and the Tragedie:
The Comick glasse is full of merry strife,
The low reflection of a Country life.
Grave Tragedy void of such homely sports
Is the sad glasse of Cities and of Courts.
I'le shew you both, Thalia come and bring
Thy Buskin'd sister, that of Bloud doth [...]ing▪

SCE. 4.

  • Comedy.
  • Tragedy.
  • Mime.
  • Satyre.

Why doe you stop? goe on.

I charge him stay.
[Page 9]My robe of state, Buskins, and Crown of Gold
Claime a priority.
Your Crown of Gold
Is but the wreath of wealth; 'Tis mine of Lawrell
Is vertues Diadem: This grew greene and flourish'd,
When nature pittying poore mortalitie,
Hid thine within the bowells of the earth:
Men looking up to heaven found this thats mine,
Digging to find out hell they li't on thine.

I know you'have tongue enough.

Besides my Birth-right
Gives me the first possession.

How, your Birth-right?

Yes sister, Birth-right: and a Crown besides,
Put on before the Altar of Apollo
By his deare Priest Phenomoe, she that first
Full of her God rag'd in Heroique numbers.
How came it then the magistrate decreed
A publique charge to furnish out my Chorus,
When you were faine t' appeare in rags and tatters,
And at your own expences?
My reward
Came after, my deserts went before yours.
Deserts? yes! what deserts, when like a gypsie
You took a poor and begga [...]ly Pilgrimage
From village unto village; when I then
As a fit ceremony of Religion
In my full state contended at the Tombe
Of mighty Theseus.
I before that time
[Page 10]Did chaunt out Hymnes in praise of great Apollo
The shepheards Deitie, whom they reverence
Vnder the name of Nomius, in remembrance
How with them once he kept Admetus sheep.
And 'cause you urge my poverty, what were you?
Till Sophocles laid guilt upon your Buskins
You had no ornaments, no robes of state,
No rich and glorious Scene; your first Benefactours
Who were they, but the reeling Preists of Bacchus;
For which a Goat gave you reward and name?
But sister who were yours, I pray, but such
As chaunted forth religious, bawdy sonnets,
In honour of the fine chast God Priapus?

Let age alone, merit must plead our Title.

And have you then the forehead to contend?
I stalk in Princes Courts, great Kings, and Emperours▪
From their close cabinets, and Councell Tables
Yeild me the fatall matter of my Scene.
Inferiour persons, and the lighter vanities,
(Of which this age I feare is grown too fruitfull,)
Yeild subjects various enough to move
Plentifull laughter.
Laughter! a fit object
For Poetry to ayme at.
Yes, Laughter is my object: tis a propertie
In man essentiall to his reason.
But I move horrour; and that frights the guilty
From his deare sinnes: he that sees Oedipus
Incestuous, shall behold him blind withall.
Who views Orestes as a Parricide,
[Page 11]Shall see him lash'd with Furies too; Th' Ambitious
Shall feare Prometheus Vultur; Daring Gluttony
Stand frighted at the sight of Tantalus:
And every Family great in sinnes as Blood
Shake at the memory of Pelops house.
Who will relye on Fortunes giddy smile
That hath seene Priam acted on the stage!
You move with fear, I work as much with shame,
A thing more powerfull in a generous brest.
Who sees an eating Parasite abus'd;
A covetous Bawd laugh'd at; an ignorant Gull
Cheated; a glorious Souldier knockt, and baflle'd;
A crafty servant whipt; a niggard Churle
Hoarding up dicing-monies for his sonne;
A spruce fantastique Courtier, a mad roarer,
A jealous Tradesman, an over-weening Lady,
Or corrupt Lawyer rightly personated,
But (if he have a blush), will blush and shame
As well to act those follies as to owne them.
The subject of my Scene is in the persons
Greater, as in the vices; Atheists, Tyrants,
O'redaring Favorites, Traytours, Parasites,
The Wolves and Cats of state, which in a language
High as the men, and loud as are their crimes
I thunder forth with terrour and amazement
Vnto the gastly wondring Audience.
And as my Lady takes deserved place
Of thy light Mistresse, so yeild thou to me,
Fantastique Mime.

Fond Satyre why to thee?

[Page 12]
As the Attendant of the nobler Dame,
And of my selfe more worthy.

How more worthy?

As one whose whip of steele can with a lash
Imprint the Characters of shame so deepe,
Even in the brazen forehead of proud sinne,
That not eternity shall weare it out.
When I but frown'd in my Lucilius brow,
Each conscious cheek grew red, and a cold trembling
Freez'd the chill soule; while every guilty brest
Stood fearfull of dissection, as afraid
To be anatomiz'd by that skilfull hand,
And have each artery, nerve, and veine of sinne
By it laid open to the publique skorne.
I have untruss'd the proudest, greatest tyrants
Have quak'd below my powerfull whip, halfe dead
With expectation of the smarting jerke,
Whose wound no salve can cure: each blow doth leave
A lasting scar, that with a poison eates
Into the marrow of their fames and lives;
Th'eternall ulcer to their memories!
What can your Apish-fine-gesticulations
My manlike-Munkye Mime, vie downe to this?
When men through sinnes were grown unlike the Gods,
Apes grew to be like men; therefore I think
My Apish imitation, Brother Beadle,
Does as good service to reforme bad manners
As your proud whip, with all his ferkes, and jerkes.
The Spartans when they strove t'expresse the loath­somnesse
[Page 13]Of Drunkennesse to their Children, brought a slave,
Some captive, Helot, overcharg'd with wine
Reeling in thus;—His eyes shot out with staring,
A fire in his nose, a burning rednesse
Blazing in either cheeke, his haire upright,
His tongue and senses faltring, and his stomack
Oreburden'd ready to discharge her load
In each mans face he met. This made'em se [...]
And hate that sinne of swine, and not of men.
Would I expresse a complementall youth,
That thinks himselfe a spruce and expert Courtier,
Bending his supple hams, kissing his hands,
Honouring shoo-strings, s [...]uing his writh'd face
To severall postures of affection,
Dancing an entertainment to his friend,
Who would not think it a ridiculous motion?
Yet such there be that very much please themselves
In such like Antique humours. To out own sin [...]s
We will be Moles, even to the grossest of 'em,
But in anothers life we can spye forth
The least of faults, with eyes as sharpe as eagles,
Or the Epidaurean serpent: Now in me,
Where selfe-love casts not her Aegyptian mists,
They find this mis-becoming [...]oppishnesse,
And afterwards apply it to themselves:
This (Satyre) is the use of Mimique Elves.
Sister let's lay this poore contention by,
And friendly live together; if one wombe
Could hold us both, why should we think this roome
Too narrow to containe us? On this stage
[Page 14]Weele plead a tryall; and in one year contend
Which shall doe best, that past, she then that shall
By the most sacred and impartiall judgment
Of our Apollo, best deserve the Bayes,
Shall hold the entire possession of the place.
I were unworthy if I should
Appeale from his tribunall; Be it so:
I doubt not but his censure runs with me:
Never may any thing that's sad and tragicall
Dare to approach his Presence; let him be
So happy as to think no man is wretched,
Or that there is a thing call'd miserie.
Such is my praier, that he may only see.
Not be the subject of a Tragedie!
Sister, a truce till then; that vice may bleed
Let us joyne whips together.
'Tis agreed.
Mime, let it be your office to prepare
The Masque which we intended:

'Tis my care.

How did she say? a Masse? Brother fly hence,
Fly hence, Idolatry will overtake us.
It was a Masque she spake of, a rude Dance
Presented by the seven deadly sinnes.
Still 'tis a Masse, sister, away, I tell you
It is a masse, a masse, a masse of vile Idolatry.
'Tis but a simple Dance, brought in to shew
The native fowl [...]esse and deformitie
[Page 15]Of our deare finne, and what an ugly guest
He entertaines, admits him to his B [...]est!
Song and Dance.
Say, in a Dance how shall we goe,
That never could a measure knowe!
How shall we sing to please the Scene
That never yet could keepe a meane?
Disorder is the Masque we bring,
And Discords are the Tunes we sing.
No sound in our harsh eares can find a place
But highest Trebles, or the lowest Base.
See Brother, if mens hearts and Consciences
Had not been sear'd, and cauterized, how could they
Affect these filthy harbingers of hell!
These Procters of Belzebub, Lucifers Hinch-boyes!

I pray yee stirre your selves within a while.

Roscius Solus.
And here, unlesse your favourable mildnesse
With hope of mercy doe encourage us,
Our Author bids us end: he dares not venture
Neither what's past, nor that which is to come
Vpon his Country, 'tis so weake, and impotent
It cannot stand a triall, nor dares hope
The benefit of his Cleargy; But if rigour
Sit Iudge, must of necessity be condemn'd
[Page 16]To Vulcan or the Spunge: All he can plead
Is a desire of Pardon; for he brings you
No plot at all, but a meere Olla Podrida,
A medly of ill-plac'd, and worse pen'd humours.
His desire was in single Scenes to shew
How Comedy presents each single vice
Ridiculous, whose number as their Character
He borrowes from the man to whom he owes
All the poore skill he has, great Aristotle.
Now if you can endure to heare the rest,
Y'are welcome; if you cannot, doe but tell
Your meaning by some signe, and all farewell.
If you will stay resolve to pardon first;
Our Author will deserve it by offending.
Yet if he misse a Pardon, as in Iustice
You cannot grant it, though your mercy may,
Still he hath this left for a comfort to him,
That he picks forth a subject of his Rime
May loose perchance his credit, not his time.
Finis Actus 1.



  • Roscius.
  • Bird.
  • Flowrdew.

REceive your places. The first that we present are the Extreams of a vertue necessary in our Conversation, call'd Comitas or Courtesy, which, as all other vertues, hath her deviations from the Mean. The one Colax, that to seeme over Courteous falls into a servile flattery, the other (as fooles fall into the con­traries [Page 17] which they shunne) is Dyscolus, who hating to bee a slavish Parasite growes into peevishnesse and impertinent distast.


I thought you taught two vices for one vertue!


So does Philosophy, but the Actors enter.

  • Colax.
  • Dyscolus.
How farre they sinne against humanity
That use you thus! Believe me 'tis a Symptom
Of Barbarisme, and rudenesse so to vexe
A gentle, modest nature as yours is.

Why dost thou vexe methen?

I? Heaven defend!
My breeding has been better; I vexe you?
You that I know so vertuous, just, and wise,
So pious and religious, so admir'd
So lov'd of all?
Wilt thou not leave me then
Eternall Torture? could your cruelty find
No back but mine that you thought broad enough
To beare the load of all these Epithites?
Pious? Religious? he takes me for a foole.
Vertuous? and Iust? Sir, did I ever cheat you,
Cozen, or gull you; that you call me just
And vertuous? I am grown the common scoff
Of all the world; the scoff of all the world.

The world is grown too vile then.

So art thou.
Heaven! I am [...]un'd ridiculous!
You ridiculous?
But 'tis as impious Age; There was a time,
[Page 18](And pitty 'tis so good a time had wings
To fly away,) when reverence was payd
To a gray head; 'twas held a sacriledge
Not expiable to deny respect
To one, Sir, of your years and Gravity.
My yeares and gravity! Why how ol d am I?
I am not rotten yet, or grown so ranke
As I should smell oth'grave: O Times and manners!
Well Colax, well; goe on: you may abuse me,
Poore dust, and ashes, wormes meat, yeares & gravity:
He takes me for a Carkasse! what see you
So crazy in me? I have halfe my Teeth:
I see with spectacles, doe I not? and can walke too
With th' benefit of my staffe: marke if I cannot!—
But you sir at your pleasure with years and gravity
Think me decrepit.
How? Decrepit sir!
I see young roses bud within your cheeks;
And a quick active blood run free and fresh
Through your veines.
I am turn'd boy again!
A very stripling schooleboy! have I not
The Itch and kibes? am I not scabb'd and mangy
About the wrists and hams?

Still Dyscolus▪

Dyscolus! and why Dyscolus? when were we
Grown so familiar? Dyscolus! by my name
Sure we are Pylades and Orestes! are we not?
Speak good Pylades.
Nay worthy Sir
[Page 19]Pardon my error, 'twas without intent
Of an offence. Ile finde some other name
To call you by—
What doe you mean to call mee?
Foole? Asse? or Knave? my name is not so bad
As that I am asham'd on't.
Still you take all worse then it was meant,
You are too Iealous.
Iealous? I ha'not cause for't: my wifes honest;
Dost see my hornes? Doest? if thou doest,
Write Cuckold in my forehead; doe, write Cuckold
With Aqua-fortis, doe. Iealous! I am jealous▪
Free of the Company! wife, I am jealous.

I mean suspitious.

How, suspitious?
For what? for Treason, Felony, or Murder?
Carry me to the Iustice: bind me over
For a suspitious person▪ hang me too
For a suspicious person▪ O, O, O
Some courteous plague ceazeme, and free my soule
From this immortall Torment! every thing
I meet with, is vexation, and this, this
Is the vexation of vexations,
The Hell of Hells, and Divell of all Divells.

For pitty sake fret not the good old Gentleman.

O! have I not yet torments great enough,
But you must adde to my affliction?
Eternall silence ceaze you!
Sir we strive
To please you, but you still misconstrue us.
[Page 20]
I must be pleas'd! a very babe, an infant!
I must be pleas'd! give me some pappe, or plummes:
Buy me a rattle, or a hobby-horse,
To still me, doe! be pleas'd? wouldst have me get
A Parasite to be flatter'd?
How? a Parasite?
A cogging, flatt'ring, slavish Parasite?
Things I abhorre and hate. Tis not the belly
Shall make my brains a captive. Flatterers!
Soules below reason will not stoope so low
As to give up their Liberty; only flatterers
Move by anothers wheele. They have no passions
Free to themselves. All their affections,
Qualities, humors, appetites, desires,
Nay wishes, vowes, and prayers, discourse & thoughts
Are but anothers Bondman. Let me tugg
At the Turkes Gallies; be eternally
Damn'd to a Quarry: In this state my minde
Is free: A flatterer has nor soule nor body
What shall I say?—No I applaud your temper,
That in a generous bravenesse take distast
At such whose servile nature strives to please you.
Tis royall in you Sir.

Ha! Whats that?


A feather stuck upon your cloak.

A feather!
And what have you to doe with my feathers?
Why should you hinder me from telling th'world
I doe not lye on flockbeds?
Pray be pleas'd.
[Page 21]I brusht it off for meere respect I bare you.
Respect! a fine respect, Sir, is it not,
To make the world believe I nourish vermine?
O death, death, death, if that our graves hatch wormes
Without tongues to torment us, let 'um have
What teeth they will. I meet not here an object
But adds to my affliction! Sure I am not
A man; I could not then be so ridiculous:
My eares are overgrown, I am an Asse;
It is my eares they gaze at. What strange Harpy
Centaure, or Gorgon am I turn'd into?
What Circe wrought my Metamorphosis?
If I be beast, she might haue made me Lyon,
Or something not ridiculous! O Acteon,
If I doe branch like thee, it is my fortune!
Why look they on me else? There is with in
A Glasse they say, that has strange qualities in it;
That shall resolve me. I will in to see
Whether or no I man or Monster be.


To them Deilus, Aphobus.

Who be these? They look like Presumption and Despaire.


And such they are. That is Aphobius, one that out of an impious confidence fears nothing. The other Deilus, that from an Atheisticall distrust, shakes at the motion of a reed. These are the Extreams of Fortitude, that steeres an even course between over much dar [...]ing, and overmuch fearing.

[Page 20] [...][Page 21] [...][Page 22]

Why stayes this reprobate Colax?

Any vice
Yeelds work for Flattery.

A good Doctrine marke it.

Is it possible? did you not fear it, say you?
To me the meere relation is anague.
Good Aphobus no more such terrible stories;
I would not for a world lye alone to night:
I shall have such strange dreames!
What can there be
That I should fear? The Gods? If they be good,
Tis sin to fear them; if not good, no Gods,
And then let them fear me. Or are they Divells
That must affright me?
Diuells! where good Aphobus?
I thought there was some conjureing abroad.
Tis such a terrible wind! O here it is;
Now it is here again! O still, still, still!

Whats the matter?

Still it followes me!
The thing in black, behind; soone as the Sun
But shines, it haunts mee! Gentle spirit leave mee!
Cannot you lay him Aphobus? what an ugly looks it has!
With eyes as big as sawcers, nostrills wider
Then Barbers basons!
Tis nothing Deilus
But your weak Phancy, that from every object
Drawes arguments of fear. This terrible black thing—

Wher is it Aphobus?


—Is but your shadow Deilus.

[Page 23]

And should not we fear shadowes?


No! why should we?

Who knows but they come learing after us
To steale away the substance? Watch him Aphobus.

I nothing fear.

I doe commend your valour,
That fixes your great soule fast as a Center,
Not to be mov'd with dangers, let slight cock-boats
Be shaken with a wave, while you stand firme
Like an undaunted rock, whose constant hardnesse
Rebeats the fury of the raging Sea,
Dashing it into froth. Base fear doth argue
A low degenerate soule.

Now I fear every thing.

Tis your discretion. Every thing has danger,
And therefore every thing is to be feared.
I doe applaud this wisdome: Tis a symptome
Of wary providence. His too confident rashnesse
Argues a stupid ignorance in the soule,
A blind and senselesse judgement; give me feare
To man the fort, 'tis such a circumspect
And wary sentinell▪
Now shame take thee for
A Luke warme formalist.
—But daring valour
Vncapable of danger sleepes securely,
And leaves an open entrance to his enemies.

What are they landed?



The enemies.
[Page 24]That Colax talkes of.
If they be I care not.
Though they be Gyants all, and arm'd with thunder.

Why doe you not fear Thunder?

Thunder? no!
No more then squibs and crackers.
Squibs and crackers?
I hope there be none here! slid, squibs and crackers!
The meere Epitomies of the Gun-powder Treason,
Faux in a lesser volume.
Let fooles gaze
At bearded starres, it is all one to mee
As if they had been shav'd—thus, thus would I
Out-beard a Meteour, for I might as well
Name it a prodigy when my candle blazes.
Deil. Is there a Comet say you? Nay I saw it,
It reach'd from Pauls to Charing, and portends
Some certain imminent danger to th' inhabitants
Twixt those two places: I'le goe get a lodging
Out of its Influence.
Will that serve?—I feare
It threatens generall ruine to the Kingdome.

I'le to some other Country.


There's danger too to crosse the Seas.

Is there no way, good Colax,
To crosse the Sea by Land? O the scituation!
The horrible scituation of an Island
You sir are farre above such frivolons thoughts.
You fear not death.

Not I.

[Page 25]

Not sudden death.


No more then sudden sleepes: Sir I dare dye.

I dare not; Death to me is terrible:
I will not dye.

How can you Sir prevent it?


Why I will kill my selfe.

A valiant course;
And the right way to prevent death indeed.
Your spirit is true Roman!—But yours greater
That fear not death, nor yet the manner of it,
Should Heaven fall—

Why then we should have Larkes.


I shall never eate Larkes again while I breath.

Or should the earth yawn like a sepulcher,
And with an open throat swallow you quick?

T'would save me the expences of a grave.


I'had rather trouble my Exequutors by 'the half.


Canons to me are pot-guns.

Potguns to me
Are Canons; the report will strike me dead.

A rapier's but a bodkin.

And a bodkin.
Is a most dangerous weapon; since I read
Of Iulius Cesars death, I durst not venture
Into a Tailors shop for fear of Bodkins.
O that the valiant Gyants would again
Rebell against the Gods, and besiege Heaven,
So I might be their leader.
Had Enceladus
Been halfe so valiant, Iove had been his prisoner.
[Page 26]
Why should we think there be such things as dangers?
Scylla, Charybdis, Python are but fables.
Medeas Bull, and Dragon very tales.
Se [...] monsters, serpents, all Poeticall figments.
Nay Hell it selfe, and Acheron meere inventions.
Or were they true, as they are false, should I be
So timorous as to fear these Bugbeare Harpyes,
Medusa's, Centaurs, Gorgons?
O good Aphobus.
Leave conjuring, or take me into th' circle.
What shall I doe good Colax?
Sir walke in,
There is they say a Looking-glasse, a strange one
Of admirable vertues, that will render you
Free from inchantments.
How a Looking-glasse?
Dost think I can endure it? why there lies
A man within't in ambush to entrap me.
I did but lift my hand up, and he presently
Catcht at it.
'Twas the shadow Sir of your selfe.
Trust me a meere reflection.

I will trust thee.


What Glasse is that?

A trick to fright the Idiot
Out of his wits, a glasse so full of dread
Rendring unto the eye such horrid spectacles
As would amaze even you. Sir I doe think
Your optick nerves would shrink in the beholding▪
[Page 27]This if your eye endure, I will confesse you
The Prince of Eagles.
Look to it eyes, if yee refuse this sight,
My nayles shall damne you to eternall night.
Seing no hope of gain, I pack them hence,
'Tis gold gives flattery all her Eloquence.

SCEN. 3.

  • Acolastus
  • Anaisthetus.

Temperance is the mediocrity of inioying plea­sures, when they are present, and a moderate desire of them being absent; And these are the extreames of that vertue. Acolastus a voluptuous Epicure, that out of an immode­rate, and untam'd desire seekes after all pleasures promis­cuously, without respect of honest or lawfull. The other Anaisthetus a meere Anchorite that delights in nothing, not in those legitimate recreations allow'd of by God and nature.

O now for an eternity of eating!
Foole was he that wish'd but a cranes short neck.
Give me one, nature, long as is a Cable,
Or sounding line, and all the way a palate
To [...]ast my meate the longer. I would have
My senses feast together, Nature envied us
In giving single pleasures; let me have
My eares, eyes, palate, nose, and touch, at once
Injoy their happinesse; lay me in a bed
Made of a summers cloud; to my embraces
[Page 28]Give me a Venus hardly yet fifteene,
Fresh, plump, and active; she that Mars enjoy'd
Is grown too stale: And then at the same instant
My Touch is pleas'd, I would delight my sight
With Pictures of Diana, and her Nymphs,
Naked, and bathing drawn by some Apelles;
By them some of our fairest Virgins stand;
That I may see whether 'tis Art or nature
Which heightens most my blood and appetite.
Nor cease I here. Give me the seven Orbes
To charme my eares with their coelestiall lutes,
To which the Angells that doe move those spheares
Shall sing some amorous ditty; nor yet here
Fixe I my bounds; The sunne himselfe shall fire
The Phoenix nest to make me a perfume,
While I doe eate the Bird, and eternally
Quaffe of eternall Nectar. These single, are
But torments, but together; O together!
Each is a Paradice. Having got such objects
To please the senses, give me senses too
Fit to receive those objects: Give me therefore
An Eagles eye, a blood-hounds curious smell,
A staggs quick hearing, let my feeling be
As subtle as the spiders, and my tast
Sharpe as a Squirrils. Then I'le reade the Alcoran,
And what delights that promises in future
I'le practise in the present.

Heathenish Glutton!


Base belly-God, licentious Libertine!

And I doe think there is no pleasure at all
[Page 29]But in contemning pleasures; Happy Niobe
And blessed Daphne, and all such as are
Turn'd stocks and stones: would I were Lawrell too,
Or marble, I, or any thing insensible.
It is a toyle for me to eate or drink,
Only for natures satisfaction;
Would I could live without it. To my eare
Musique is but a mandrake. To my smell
Nard sents of rue, and wormwood; And I tast
Nectar with as much loathing, and distast
As Gall, or aloes, or my Doctors potion.
My eye can meete no object but I hate it.

Come Brother Stoique be not so melancholy.


Be not so foolish Brother Epicure.

Come wee'le goe see a Comedy, that will raise
Thy heavy spirits up.
A Comedy?
Sure I delight much in those toyes; I can
With as much patience heare the Marriners
Chide in a storme.

Then lets goe drinke a while.

'Tis too much Labour; Happy Tantalus
That never drinks.
A little Venery
Shall recreate thy soule.
Yes like an itch,
For 'tis no better, I could wish an heire;
But that I cannot take the paines to get one.
Why, marry, if your conscience be so tender,
As not to doe it otherwise; Then 'tis lawfull.
[Page 30]
True Matrimony's nothing else indeed
But fornication licens'd, lawfull Adultery.
O Heavens! how all my senses are wide sluces
To let in discontent and miseries!
How happy are the moles that have no eyes;
How blest the Adders that they have no eares.
They neither see, nor heare ought that afflicts them.
But happier they that have no sence all;
That neither see, nor heare, tast, smell, nor feele
Any thing to torment them: soules were given
To torture Bodyes, man has reason too
To adde unto the heape of his distractions.
I can see nothing without sense, and motion,
But I doe wish my selfe transform'd into it.
Sir I cōmend this temperance; your arm'd soule
Is able to contemne these petty baits,
These slight temptations, which we title pleasures;
That are indeed but names; He'ven it selfe knows
No such like thing; the starres nor eate, nor drink,
Nor lye with one another; and you imitate
Those glorious bodies, by which noble abstinence
You gaine the names of moderate, chast, and sober;
While this effeminate gets the infamous termes
Of Glutton, Drunkard, and Adulterer;
Pleasures, that are not mans, as man is man,
But as his nature sympathies with beasts.
You shall be the third Cato. This grave look
And rigid eyebrow will become a censor.
But I will fit you with an object Sir,
My noble Anaisthetus that will please you.
[Page 31]It is a Looking-glasse, wherein at once
You may see all the dismall groves and caves,
The horrid vaults, darke cells, and barren deserts,
With what in Hell it selfe can dismall be.

That is indeed a Prospect fit for mee.

He cannot see a stock or stone, but presently
He wishes to be turn'd to one of those.
I have another humor, I cannot see
A fat voluptuous sow with full delight
Wallow in dirt, but I doe wish my selfe
Transform'd into that blessed Epicure.
Or when I view the hot salacious sparrow
Renew his pleasures with fresh appetite,
I wish my selfe that litle bird of Love.
It shewes you a man of a soft moving clay,
Not made of flint; Nature has been bountifull
To provide pleasures, and shall wee be niggards
At plenteous boards? He's a discourteous guest
That will observe a diet at a feast.
When Nature thought the earth alone too litle
To find us meat, and therefore stor'd the aire
With winged creatures, not contented yet
Shee made the water fruitfull to delight us.
Nay I believe the other Element too
Doth nurse some curious dainty for mans food,
If we would use the skill to catch the Salamander:
Did she doe this to have us eat with temperance?
Or when she gave so many different Odors
Of spices, unguents, and all sorts of flowers,
Shee cry'd not—stop your noses: would she give us
[Page 32]So sweet a quire of wing'd Musitians
To have us deafe? or when shee plac'd us here,
Here in a Paradice, where such pleasing prospects
So many ravishing colours entice the eye,
Was it to have us winke? when she bestow'd
So powrefull faces, such commanding beauties
On many glorious Nymphs, was it to say
Be chast and continent? Not to enjoy
All pleasures, and at full, were to make nature
Guilty of that she nere was guilty of,
A vanity in her works.
A learned Lecture!
Tis fit such grave and solid arguments
Have their reward—here—halfe of my estate
T'invent a pleasure never tasted yet,
That I may be the first shall make it stale.
Within Sir is a Glasse, that by reflexion
Doth shew the image of all sorts of pleasures
That ever yet were acted, more variety
Then Aretines pictures.
Ile see the Iewell;
For though to doe, most moves my appetite,
I love to see, as well as act delight.
These are the things indeed the stage doth teach,
Dear heart, what a foule sinke of sinnes runne here!

Insooth it is the common shore of lewdnesse.

SCEN. 4.

  • Asotus.
  • Aneleutherus.

These are Aneleutherus an illiberall Niggardly Vsurer, that will sell heaven to purchase Earth. That, his sonne Asotus, a profuse Prodigall, that will sell earth to buy Hell. The extreames of Liberality which prescribes a mediocrity in the Geting and Spending of Riches.


Come boy, goe with me to the Scriveners, goe,


I was in hope you would have said a Bawdy house.


Thence to th'exchange.


No, to the Taverne Father.


Be a good husband boy, follow my counsell.

Your counsell? No dad, take you mine
And be a good fellow—shall we goe and roare?
Slid Father I shall never live to spend
That you have got already—Poxe of atturneys,
Merchants, and Scriveners, I would heare you talke
Of Drawers, Punks, and Panders.
Prodigall child!
Thou dost not know the sweets of getting wealth.
Nor you the pleasure that I take in spending it.
To feed on Caveare, and eate Anchoves!
Asotus, my dear sonne, talke not to me
Of your Anchoves, or your Caveare.
No, feed on Widdowes, have each meale an Orphan
Serv'd to your Table, or a glibbery heire
With all his lands melted into a morgage.
[Page 34]The Gods themselves feed not on such fine dainties,
Such fatting, thriving diet.
Trust me Sir,
I am asham'd la—now to call you Father,
Ne're trust me now I'am, come be a Gentleman:
One of your haveings, and thus carke and care?
Come, I will send for a whole coach or two
Of Bankside Ladies, and wee will be Ioviall!
Shall the World say you pine and pinch for nothing?
Well doe your pleasure, keep me short of monies,
When you are dead, as dye I hope you must,
Ile make a shift to spend one halfe at least
Ere you are coffin'd, and the other halfe
Ere you are fully laid into your grave.
Were not you better help away with some of it?
But you will starve your selfe, that when y'are rotten,
One—Have at all of mine may set it flying.
And I will have your bones cut into dice,
And make you guilty of the spending of it:
Or I will get a very handsome bowle
Made of your scull, to drink't away in healths.
That's not the way to thrive! No sit and brood
On thy estate, as yet it is not hatch'd
Into maturity.
Marry I will brood upon it,
And hatch it into chickens, capons, hens,
Larks, thrushes, quailes, wood-cocks, snites & phesants
The best that can be got for love or mony.
There is no life to drinking!
O yes, yes,
[Page 35]Exaction, usury, and oppression.
Twenty i'th' hundred is a very Nectar.
And wilt thou, wastfull lad, spend in a supper
What I with sweat and labour, care and industrie
Have been an age a scraping up together?
No, no Asotus, trust gray-head experience;
As I have been an oxe, a painfull oxe,
A diligent, toyling, and laborious oxe
To plow up Gold for thee; so I would have thee—

Be a fine silly Asse to keepe it.


Be a good watchfull Dragon to preserve it.

Sir, I overheard your wise instructions,
And wonder at the gravitie of your counsell.
This wild unbridled boy is not yet grown
Acquainted with the world; He has not felt
The weight of need, that want is vertue's clog;
Of what necessity, respect and value
Wealth is; how base and how contemptible
Poverty makes us. Liberality
In some circumstances may be allow'd;
As when it has no end but honesty,
With a respect of person, quantity,
Quality, time and place; but this profuse,
Vaine, injudicious spending speaks him Ideot.
And yet the best of liberalitie
Is to be liberall to our selves; and thus
Your wisdome is most liberall, and knowes
How fond a thing it is for discreet men
To purchase with the losse of their estate
The name of one poore vertue liberalitie.
[Page 36]And that too only from the mouth of beggers.
One of your judgment would not I am sure
Buy all the vertues at so deare a rate.
Nor are you sir, I dare presume, so fond
As for to weigh your gains by the strict scale
Of equity, and Iustice; Names invented
To keepe us beggers! I would counsell now
Your son to tread no steps but yours, for they
Will certainly direct him the broad way
That leads unto the place wher Plenty dwels,
And shee shall give him honour.
Your tongue is pow'rfull:
Pray read this Lecture to my sonne; I goe
To find my scriv'ner, who is gone I heare
To a strange Glasse wherein all things appeare.
To see if it can shew him his lost eares.
Now to your Lecture.
And to such a one
As you will be a willing Pupill to.
Think you I meant all that I told your father?
No, 'twas to blind the eyes of the old Huncks.
I love a man like you that can make much
Of his blest Genius: Miracle of Charity!
That open hand becomes thee; Let thy Father
Scrape like the Dunghill cock the dirt, and mire,
To find a pretious Gemme for thee, the Chicken
Of the white Hen to weare. It is a wonder
How such a generous branch as you, could spring
From that old root of damned avarice!
For every widdowes house the father swallowes,
[Page 37]The sonne should spue a Taverne. How are we
Richer then others, not in having much,
But in be stowing;
And that shines glorious in you. The chuff [...] crownes
Imprison'd in his rusty chest me thinkes
I heare groan out, and long till they be thine,
In hope to see the light againe. Thou canst not
Stand in a flood of Nectar up to th' chin,
And yet not dare to sup it; nor canst suffer
The Golden Apples dangle at thy lips,
But thou wilt tast the fruit. 'Tis generous this!
Gramercy, thou shalt be Doctor o'th' chaire.
Here—'tis too little, but 'tis all my store,
I'le in to pumpe my dad, and fetch thee more.

How like you now my art? is't not a subtle one?

Now out upon thee thou lewd reprobate!
Thou man of sinne, and shame, that sowest cushions
Vnto the elbowes of iniquity.
I doe commend this zeale; you cannot be
Too fervent in a cause so full of goodnesse.
There is a generall frost hath ceas'd devotion,
And without such like ardent flames as these
There is no hope to thaw it. The word, Puritane,
That I doe glorify, and esteeme rev'erend,
As the most sanctified, pure, and holiest Sect
Of all professours, is by the profane
Vs'd for a name of infamy, a by-word, a slander,
That I sooth vice I doe but flatter them,
As we give children plums to learn their praiers,
T' entice them to the truth, and by faire meanes
[Page 38]Work out their reformation.
'Tis well done,
I hope hee'le become a brother, and make
A Separatist!
You shall have the devotions
Of all the Elders. But this foppinesse
Is weary some, I could at our Saint Antlings,
Sleeping and all, sit twenty times as long,
Goe in with me to recreate your spirits,
As Musique theirs, with some refreshing song,
Whose patience our rude Scene hath held too long.
Finis Actus 2.



  • Roscius.
  • Bird.
  • Flowrdew.

I will no more of this abomination.

The end crownes every action, stay till that.
Iust Iudges will not be prejudicate.

Pray sir continue still the moralizing.


The next we present are the extreams of Magnifi­cence, who teaches a Decorum in great expences, as Libera­lity in the lesser: One is Banausus, out of a meere [...]tent ati­on vaine-gloriously expensive; the other Microprepes one in glorious works extreamly base and penurious.

  • Banausus.
  • Microprepes.
Being borne not for our selves but for our freinds,
Our country and our glory, it is fit
We doe expresse the majesty of our soules
[Page 39]In deeds of bounty and magnificence.
The world is full of vanity, and fond fooles
Promise themselves a name from building Churches
Or any thing that tends to the Republique,
'Tis the Re-private that I study for.
First therefore for the fame of my Republique.
I'le imitate a brave Aegyptian King,
And plant such store of onions, and of garlike,
As shall maintaine so many thousand workmen,
To th' building of a Pyamid at Saint Albons,
Vpon whose top I'le set a hand of brasse,
With a scrowle in't to shew the way to London,
For th' benefit of Travellers.
'Tis charity to direct the wandring Pilgrim.
I am Church-warden, and we are this yeare
To build our steeple up, now to save charges
I'le get a high crown'd hat with five Low-bels
To make a peale shall serve as well as Bow.
'Tis wisely cast,
And like a carefull steward of the Church,
Of which the Steeple is no part, at least
No necessary one.
Verily 'tis true.
They are but wicked Synagogues where those instru­ments
Of Superstition and Idolatry
Ring warning to sinne, and chime all in to the Divell.
And 'cause there is such swarmes of heresies rising:
[Page 40]I'le have an Artist frame two wondrous weathercocks
Of Gold, to set on Pauls, and Grantam Steeple,
To shew to all the Kingdome what fashion next
The Wind of Humour hither means to blow.

A wicker chaire will fit them for a Pul­pit.


It is the Doctrine sir that you respect.

In sooth I' have heard as wholsome instructions
From a zealous wicker chaire, as e're I did
From the carv'd Idoll of wainscoat.
Next, I intend to found an Hospitall
For the decay'd Professours of the Suburbs,
With a Colledge of Physitians too at Chelsy
Only to study the cure of the French Poxe;
That so the sinners may acknowledge me
Their only benefactor, and repent.

You have a care sir of your countrie's health.


Then I will sell the lead to thatch the Chancell.

I have a rare device to set Dutch windmills
Vpon New-market Heath, and Salisbury Plaine,
To draine the Fens.

The Fens sir are not there.


But who knowes but they may be?

Very right:
You aime at the prevention of a danger.

A Porters frock shall serve me for a surplice▪


Indeed a Frock is not so Ceremonious.

But the great work in which I mean to glory,
Is in the raising a Cathedrall Church:
It shall be at Hoggs-Norton, with a paire
[Page 41]Of stately Organs; more then pity 'twere
The Piggs should loose their skill for want of practice!

Organs! fye on them for Babylonian Bagpipes!

Then for the painting, I bethink my selfe
That I have seene in mother Red-caps Hall
In painted cloath the story of the Prodigall.
And that will be for very good use and morall.
Sir you are wise; what serve Aegyptian Pyramids,
Ephesian Temples, Babylonian Towers,
Carian Coloss'es, Traians water-workes,
Domitians Amphitheaters, the vaine cost
Of ignorance and prodigalitie!
Rome flourish'd when her Capitoll was that ch'd,
And all her Gods dwelt but in Cottages.
Since Parian marble and Corynthian brasse
Enter'd her gawdy Temples, soone shee fell
To superstition, and from thence to ruine.
You see that in our Churches, glorious Statues
Rich Copes, and other ornaments of state
Draw wandring eyes from their devotion,
Vnto a wanton gazing, and that other
Rich edifices, and such gorgeous toyes
Doe more proclaime our countries wealth then safety,
And serve but like so many guilded baits
T'entice a forreigne Foe to our invasion.
Goe in, there is a Glasse will shew you sir,
What sweet simplicity our Grands [...]res us'd,
How in the Age of Gold no Church was guilded.
Exit. Micro.
O I have thought on't, I will straight way build
[Page 42]A free schoole here in London, a free schoole
Forth'education of young Gentlemen
To study how to drinke, and take Tobacco,
To sweare, to roare, to dice, to drab, to quarrell:
Twill be the great Gymnasium of the Realme,
The Phrontisterium of great Britayny.
And for their better study I will furnish them
With a large Library of Drapers bookes.
'Twill put down Bodlies, and the Vatican.
Royall Banausus! how many Sphears fly you
Above the earthy dull Microprepes!
I hope to live to see you build a stewes
Shall out-brave Venice; To repaire old Tiburne
And make it Cedar. This magnificent course
Doth purchase you an immortality.
In them you build your Honour to remaine
Th-example and the wonder of Posterity.
While other hidebound Churles doe grutch thēselves▪
The Charges of a Tombe.
But Ile have one
In which Ile lye embalm'd with Mirthe and Cassia,
And richer unguents then th' Aegyptian Kings.
And all that this my pretious Tombe may furnish
The Land with Mummye.
Yonder is a Glasse
Will shew you plots and models of all monuments
Form'd the old way, you may invent a new
'Twill make for your more glory.

Colax true.


These are the extreams of Magnanimity. Caunus a [Page 43] fellow so highly conceited of his own parts, that he thinks no honour above him; the other Micropsychus a base and low spirited fellow▪ that undervaluing his own qualities, dares not aspire to those dignities, that otherwise his me­rits are capable of.

SCEN. 2.

  • Caunus.
  • Micropsychus.

I wonder that I hear no newes from Court!


All haile unto the honourable Caunus.

The honourable Caunus? Tis decreed
I am a Privy Counsellor; our new honors
Cannot so alter us as that we can
Forget our Friends, walk with us our familiar.
It puzles me to think what worth I have,
That they should put so great an honour on me.
Sir I doe know, and see, and so doe all
That have not wilfull blindnesse, what rare skill
Of wisdome, Policy, Iudgement and the rest
Of the state-vertues sit within this brest,
As if it were their Parliament; but as yet
I am not Sir the happy Messenger
That tels you you are cal'd unto the Helme;
Or that the Rudder of great Britany
Is put into your Hands, that you may steere
Our floating Delos till she be arriv'd
At the blest Port of Happinesse, and surnam'd
The Fortunate Ifle from you that are the fortunate.
'Tis strange that I the best experienc'd
[Page 44]The skilfulst and the rarest of all Carpenters,
Should not be yet a Privy Counsellour!
Surely the State wants eyes, or has drunke opium
And sleepes; but when it wakes it cannot chuse
But meet the glorious beams of my deserts
Bright as the rising Sunne, and say to England,
England behold thy light!
Make me a constable!
Make me that am the simplest of my neighbours
So great a Magistrate! so powrfull an officer!
I blush at my unworthinesse: a Constable!
The very Prince o'th' parish! you are one Sir
Of an ability to discharge it better,
Let me resigne to you.
How? I a Constable?
What might I be in your opinion Sir?

A Carpenter of worship▪

Very well;
And yet you would make me a Constable.
I'le evidently demonstrate that of all men
Your Carpentes are best States-men; of all Carpenters
I being the best, am best of Statesmen too:
Imagine Sir the Common-wealth a Logge,
Or a rude block of wood; your States-man comes,
(For by that word I mean a Carpenter)
And with the sawe of Policy divides it
Into so many boards or severall orders,
Of Prince, Nobility, Gentry, and the other
Inferiour boards calld Vulgar, fit for nothing
But to make styles, or planks to be ▪trod over,
[Page 45]Or trampled on: This addes unto the Logg
Call'd Common-wealth at least some smal perfection:
But afterwards he plains them, and so makes
The Common-wealth, that was before a board,
A pretty Wainscoat; some he carves with Titles
Of Lord, or Knight, or Gentleman; Some stand plain,
And serve us more for use then Ornament,
We call them Yeomen; (Boards now out of fashion.)
And lest the disproportion breake the frame,
He with the peggs of amity and concord,
As with the glew-pot of good Government
Ioynts 'em together, makes an absolute Edifice
Of the Re-publique: State-skill'd Machiavell
Was certainly a Carpenter; yet you thinke
A Constable a Gyant Dignity.
Pray Heaven that Icarus-like I doe not melt
The waxen plumes of my ambition!
Or that from this bright Chariot of the Sunne
I fall not headlong down with Phaeton,
I have aspir'd so high: make me a Constable
That have not yet attain'd to the Greeke tongue!
Why 'tis his office for to keepe the peace,
His Majesties Peace: I am not fit to keepe
His Majesties Hoggs, much lesse his Peace, the best
Of all his jewells: How dare I presume
To charge a man in the Kings name! I faint
Vnder the burthen of so great a place,
Whose weight might presse down Atlas: Magistrates
Are only Sumpter-horses. Nay they threaten me
To make me Warden of the Church.
[Page 46]Am I a Patriot? or have I ability
To present Knights-Recusant, Clergy-Reelers,
Or Gentlemen-Fornicators?
You have worth
Richly enamel'd with a modesty.
And though your lofty merit might sit crown'd
On Caucasus, or the Pyrenean mountaines,
You choose the humbler valley, and had rather
Grow a safe shrub below, then dare the winds,
And be a Cedar: Sir you know there is not
Halfe so much honour in the Pilots place
As danger in the storme. Poore windy Titles
Of Dignity, and offices that puffe up
The bubble pride till it swell big, and burst,
What are they but brave nothings? Toies cal'd Ho­nours
Make them on whom they are bestow'd no better
Then glorious slaves, the servants of the Vulgar:
Men sweat at Helme, as much as at the Oare.
There is a Glasse within shall shew you sir
The vanity of these filke-wormes, that doe think
They toile not, 'cause they spin so fine a thread.
I'le see it. Honour is a babies rattle,
And let blind Fortune where she will, bestow her;
Lay me on earth, and I shall fall no lower.

Colax what newes?

The Persian Emperour
Is desperatly sick.
Heaven take his soule!
When I am the Grand Sophie, as 'tis likely
[Page 47]I may be, Colax thou art made for ever.

The Turke they say prepares again for Poland.


And I no Basshaw yet? Sultan repent it!


The State of Venice too is in distraction.

And can that State be so supinely negligent,
As not to know whom they may choose their Duke?
Our Merchants doe report th'inhabitants there
Are now in consultation, for the setling
The Crown upon a more deserving head
Then his that bears it.
Then my fortunes rise
On confident wings, and all my hopes fly certain.
Colax be bold: thou seest the Prester Iohn.
Well England, of all Countries in the World
Most blind to thy own good. other Nations
Wooe me to take the bridle in my hands
With gifts and presents; had I liv'd in Rome
Who durst with Caunus stand a candidate?
I might have choice of Aedile, Consull, Tribune,
Or the perpetuall Dictators place.
I could discharge 'em all: I know my merits
Are large, and boundlesse: A Cesar might be hewed
Out of a Carpenter, if a skilfull workman
But undertooke it.
Tis a worthy confidence.
Let Birds of night and shame, with their owles eyes
Not dare to gaze upon the sunne of Honour;
They are no presidents for Eagles: Bats
Like dull Micropsychus; things of earth, and lead,
May love a private safety; men in whom
[Page 48] Prometheus has spent much of his stolne fire,
Mount upwards like a flame, and court bright honour
Hedg'd in with thousand dangers! Whats a man
Without desert? and what's desert to him
That does not know he has it? Is he rich
That holds within his house some buried chests
Of Gold, or Pearle, & knowes not where to look thē?
What was the Load-stone, till the use was found,
But a fowle dotard on a fowler Mistresse?
I praise your Argus eyes, that not alone
Shoote their beames forwards, but reflect and turne
Back on themselves, and finde an object there
More worthy their intentive contemplation.
You are at home no stranger, but are growne
Acquainted with your vertues, and can tell
What use the pearle is of, which Dunghill cocks
Scrape into dirt againe. This searching judgement
Was not intended to worke wood, but men.
Honour attends you. I shall live to see
A Diadem crowne that head. There is within
A Glasse that will acquaint you with all places
Of Dignity, authority, and renowne,
The State, and carriage of them: Choose the best,
Such as deserve you, and refuse the rest.
I goe, that want no worth to merit honour;
'Tis honour that wants worth to merit mee.
Fortune, thou arbitresse of humane things
Thy credit is at stake: if I but rise
The Worlds opinion will conceive th'hast eyes.

SCEN. 3.

  • Orgylus.
  • Aorgus.

These are the extreams of Meeknesse. Orgylus an angry quarrelsome man, mov'd with the least shadow, or appearance of Iniury. The other in defect, Aorgus, a fel­low so patient, or rather insensible of wrong, that he is not capable of the grossest abuse.

Perswade me not, he has awak'd a fury
That carries steele about him. Daggs, and Pistolls!
To bite his thumb at me?
Why should not any man
Bite his own thumbe?
At mee? weare I a sword
To see men bite their thumbs—Rapiers and Daggers!-
He is the sonne of a Whore.
That hurts not you.
Had he bit yours, it had been some pretence
T'have mov'd this anger—he may bite his own,
And eate it too.
Muskets, and Canons!-eate it?
If he dare eate it in contempt of me,
He shall eate something else too that rides here;
Ile try his estridg stomack.

Sir be patient.


You lye in your throat, and I will not.

To what purpose is this impertinent madnesse?
Pray be milder.

Your Mother was a whore, & I will not put it up.

[Page 50]

Why should so slight a toye thus trouble you?


Your Father was hang'd, and I will be reveng'd.

When reason dorh in equall ballance poize
The nature of two injuries, yours to me
Lyes heavy, when that other would not turne
An even scale; and yet it moves not mee;
My Anger is not up.
But I will raise it;
You are a foole!
I know it, and shall I
Be angry for a truth?
You are besides
An arrant knave!

So are my betters sir.

I cannot move him—O my spleen!—it rises,
For very anger I could eat my knuckles.

You may, or bite your thumb all's one to mee.


You are a horned beast, a very Cuckold!

'Tis my wives fault, not mine, I have no reason
Then to be angry for anothers finne.
And I did graft your horns, you might have come
And found us glewd together like two goats;
And stood a witnesse to your transformation.
Why if I had, I am so farre from anger
I would have e'ne falne down upon my knees,
And desir'd heaven to have forgiven you both.
Your Children are all bastards, not one of them,
Vpon my knowledge, of your own begetting.
Why then I am the more beholding to them
That they will call me father; it was lust
[Page 51]Perchance, that did beget them, but I am sure
'Tis charity to keepe the Infants.
Not yet stirr'd?
'Tis done of meere contempt, he will not now
Be angry, to expresse his scorne of me.
'Tis above patience this, insufferable.
Proclaime me coward, if I put up this!
Dotard you will be angry, will you not?
To see how strange a course fond wrath doth goe!
You will be angry 'cause I am not so.
I, can endure no longer, if your spleene
Lye in your breech, thus I will kick it up.-

Alpha. Beta. Gamma. Delta. Epsylon. Zeta. Eta. Theta. Iota. Kappa. Lamda▪ Mu. Nu. Xi. Omicron. Pi. Ro. Sigma. Tau. Vpsilon. Phi. Chi. Psi. Omega.


How? what contempt is this?

An antidote
Against the poison, Anger: 'twas prescrib'd
A Roman Emperour, that on every injury
Repeated the Greek Alphabet, that being done
His anger too was over. This good rule
I learn'd from him, and Practise.
Not yet angry?
Still will you vexe me? I will practise too?
(Kicks again)

Aleph. Beth. Gimel.

What new Alphabet
Is this?
The Hebrew Alphabet, that I use
A second remedy.
O my Torment! still?
[Page 52]Are not your Buttocks angry with my toes?
For ought I feele your toes have more occasion
For to be angry with my Buttocks.
I'le try your Physick for the third assault;
And exercise the patience of your nose.

A. B. C. D. E. F. G. H. I. K. L. M. N. O. P. Q. R. S. T. V. W. X. Y. Z.


Are you not angry now?

Now sir, why now?
Now you have done.
O 'tis a meere plot this,
To jeere my tamenesse: will no sense of wrong
Waken the lethargy of a cowards soule?
Will not this rowse her [...]rom her dead sleepe, nor this?
Why should I sir be angry; if I suffer
An injury, it is no guilt of mine;
No, let it trouble them, that doe the wrong;
Nothing but peace approaches innocence.
A bitternesse o'reflows me; my eyes flame,
My blood boyles in me, all my faculties
Of soule and body move in a disorder;
His patience hath so tortur'd me: Sirra villain
I will dissect thee with my rapiers point;
Rip up each veine, and sinewe of my storque,
Anatomize him, searching every entraile,
To see if nature, when she made this asse,
This suffering asse; did not forget to give him
Some gall!
Put it up good Orgylus,
[Page 53]Let him not glory in so brave a death,
As by your hand; it stands not with your honour
To stain your rapier in a cowards blood.
The Lybian Lions in their noble rage
Will prey on Bulls, or mate the Vnicorne;
But trouble not the painted butterflye;
Ants crawle securely by him.
'Tis intollerable!
Would thou wert worth the killing.
A good wish,
Savouring as well discretion, as bold valour:
Think not of such a baffel'd asse as this,
More stone, then man: Medusa's head has turn'd him.
There is in ants a choler, every flye
Carries a spleene: Poore wormes being trampled on
Turne tayle, as bidding battaile to the feet
Of their oppref [...]ors. A dead palsy sure
Hath struck a desperate numnesse through his soule,
Till it be growne insensible: Meere stupidity
Hath ceaz'd him: Your more manly soule I find
Is capable of wrong, and like a flint
Throwes forth a fire into the strikers eyes.
You beare about you valours whetstone, anger;
Which sets an edge upon the sword, and makes it
Cut with a [...]pirit: you conceive fond patience
Is an injustice to our selves, the suffering
One injury invites a second, that
Calls on a third, till wrongs doe multiply
And reputation bleed: How bravely anger
Becomes that martiall brow! A glasse within
[Page 52] [...] [Page 53] [...] [Page 54]Will shew you sir when your great spleene doth rise
How fury darts a lightning from your eyes.
Learne anger sir against you meet me next;
Never was man like me with patience vext.
I am so farre from anger in my selfe,
That 'tis my grief I can make others so.
It proves a sweetnesse in your disposition,
A gentle winning carriage—deare Aorgus
O give me leave to open wide my brest,
And let so rare a freind unto my soule;
Enter, and take possession: such a man
As has no gall, no bitternesse, no exceptions,
Whom nature meant a Dove, will keepe alive
The [...]ame of amitie, where all discourse
Flowes innocent, and each free jest is taken.
Hee's a good freind will pardon his freinds errours,
But hee's a better takes no notice of them.
How like a beast with rude and savage rage
Breath'd the distemper'd soule of Orgylus?
The pronenesse of this passion is the Nurse
That fosters all confusion, ruines states,
Depopulates Cities, layes great Kingdomes wast;
'Tis that affection of the mind that wants
The strongest bridle; give it raines it runnes
A desperate course, and drags downe reason with it.
It is the whirlwind of the soule, the storme
And tempest of the mind, that raises up
The billowes of disturbed passions
To shipwrack Iudgment. O—a soule like yours
Constant in patience! Let the North wind mee [...]
[Page 55]The South at sea, and Zephyrus breath opposite
To Eurus; let the two and thirty sonnes
Of Eolus break forth at once, to plow
The Ocean, and dispeople all the woods,
Yet here could be a calme, it is not danger
Can make this cheeke grow pale, nor injury
Call blood into it. Their's a Glasse within
Will let you see your selfe, and tell you now
How sweet a tamenesse dwells upon your brow.
Colax, I must believe, and therefore goe;
Who is distrustfull will be angry too.

SCEN. 4.

  • Alazon.
  • Eiron.

The next are the extreames of Truth, Alazon one that arrogates that to himselfe which is not his, and Eiron one that out of an itch to be thought modest dissembles his qualities; the one erring in defending a falshood, the other offending in denying a truth.


I heare you're wondrous valiant.

I! alas,
Who told you I was valiant?

The world speaks it.


She is deceiv'd; but does she speak it truly?

I am indeed the Hector of the age;
But she calls you Achilles.
I Achilles?
No, I am no Achilles: I confesse
I am no coward: That the world should think
[Page 56]That I am an Achilles! yet the world may
Call me what she please.
Next to my valour,
Which but for yours could never hope a second,
Yours is reported.
I may have my share;
But the last valour shew'd in Christendo [...]e
Was in Lepanto.
Valour in Lepanto?
He might be thought so sir, by them that knew him not;
But I have found him a poore baffel'd snake:
Sir, I have writ him, and proclaim'd him coward
On every post i'th' City.


The valour sir that you so much renowne.
Lepanto was no man sir, but the place
Made famous by the so-much mention'd battaile
Betwixt the Turks and Christians.
Cry you mercy!
Then the Lepanto that I meant, it seemes
Was but that Lepanto's name-sake. I can
Find that you are well skill'd in History.
Not a whit; A novice, I! I could perchance
Discourse from Adam downward; but what's that
To History? All that I know is only
Th' originall, continuance, height, and alteration
Of every Common wealth. I have read nothing
But Plutarch, Livy, Tacitus, Suetonius,
Appian, Dion, Iunius, P [...]terculus,
[Page 57]With Florus, Iustine, Salust, and some few
More of the Latine: For the moderne, I
Have all without book Gallo-belgicus,
Phillip De-Comino, Machiavele, Guiccardine,
The Turkish and Aegyptian Histories,
With those of Spaine, France, and the Netherlands.
For England, Polydore Virgil, Camden, Speed,
And a matter of forty more, nothing
Alas to one that's read in Histories.
In the Greeke I have a smack or so, at
Zenophon, Herodotus, Thucidides, and
Stowes Cronicle.
Believe me sir, and that
Stowes Cronicle is very good Greeke; you litle
Think who writ it! Doe you not see him? are
You blind? I am the man.
Then I must number
You with my best Authors in my Library.
Sir, the rest too are mine, but that I venture ' [...]m
With other names, to shunne the opinion
Of arrogance; so the subt'le Cardinall
Calls one book Bellarmine, 'nother Tostatus,
Yet one mans labour both. You talk of numbring;
You cannot choose but heare how lowd fame speaks
Of my experience in Arithmetique:
She sayes you too grow neare perfection.
Farre from it I; some in-sight, but no more.
I count the starres, can give the Totall summe,
How many sands there be i'th' sea, but these
Are triflles to the expert, that have studied
[Page 58]
keth-mans president. Sir, I have no skill
In any thing, if I have any, 'tis
In languages, but yet insooth I speak
Only my mother Tongue; I have not gain'd
The Hebrew, Chaldee, Syriack, or Arabick;
Nor know the Greek with all her Dialects.
Scaliger and Tom Coriate both excell me.
I have no skill in French, Italian, Spanish,
Turkish, Aegyptian, China, Persian Tongues▪
Indeed the Latine I was whipt into;
But Ruscian, Slavonian, and Dalmatian
With Saxon, Danish, and Albanian speech,
That of the Cossaches, and Hungarian too,
With Biscays, and the prime of languages,
Dutch, Weltch, and Irish are too hard for me
To be familiar in: and yet some think
(But thought is free) that I doe speak all these
As I were borne in each. But they may erre
That think so; 'Tis not every Iudgment sits
In the infallible chaire. To confesse truth
All Europe, Asia, and Affrick too;
But in America, and the new-found world
I very much feare there be some languages
That would goe neere to puzzle me.
Very likely.
You have a pretty pittance in the Tongues;
But Eiron, I am now more generall;
I can speak all alike, there is no stranger
Of so remote a nation heares me talke
But confidently calls me Country-man-
[Page 59]The witty world giving my worth her due
Surnames me the Confusion▪ I but want
An Oratour like you to speak my praise.
Am I an Oratour Alazon? no;
Though it hath pleas'd the wiser few to say
Demosthenes was not so eloquent;
But freinds will flatter, and I am not bound
To believe all Hyperboles: something sir
Perchance I have, but 'tis not worth the naming▪
Especially Alazon in your presence.

Your modesty Eiron speaks but truth in this.

I need not flatter these, they'le doe't themselves,
And crosse the Proverb that was wont to say
One Mule doth scrub another, here each Asse
Hath learn'd to claw himselfe.
I doe [...]urpasse
All Oratours. How like you my Orations?
Those against Catiline; I account them best,
Except my Philippicks; all acknowledge me
Above the three great Oratours of Rome.

What three Alazon?

Marcus, Tullius,
And Cicero, the best of all the three.

Why those three names are all the selfe same mans

Then all is one. Were those three names three men.
I should excell them all. And then for Poetry!

There is no Poetry but Homers Iliads.

Alasse twas writith' nonage of my Muses.
You understand th'Italian?
[Page 60]
A little sir,
I have read Tasso.

And Torquato too?


Their still the same.

I find you very skilfull.
Eiron, I erre only to found your judgement.
You are a Poet too.
The world may think so,
But 'tis deceiv'd, and I am sorry for't.
But I will tell you sir some excellent verses
Made by a friend of mine; I have not read
A better Epigram of a Neoterique.

Pray doe my eyes the favour sir to let mee read 'um.

Strange sights there late was seene, that did affright
The Multitude; the Moone was seene by night,
And Sun appear'd by day:—is it not good?

Excellent good, proceed.

Without remorse
Each starre and planet kept their wonted course.
What here could fright ▪ them? (mark the answer now) O sir aske not that:
The Vulgar know not why they feare, nor what.
But in their humors too inconstant bee,
Nothing seemes strange to them but constancy.
Has not my friend approv'd himselfe a Poet?
The Verses sir are excellent, but your friend
Approves himselfe a thiefe.

Why good Alazon?

A Plagiary I mean, the verses sir
[Page 61]Were stolne.

From whom?


From me, beleeu't I made 'um.

They are alasse unworthy sir your owning.
Such Trifles as my muse had stumbled on
This morning.
Nay, they may be yours: I told you
That you come neare me sir. Yours they may be.
Good witts may jump: but let me tell you, Eiron,
Your Freind must steale them if he have them.
What pretty Gulls are these? Ile take 'um off;
Alazon, you are learned.

I know that.


And vertuous.


Tis confessd.


A good Historian.


Who dares deny it?


A rare Arithmetician.


I' have heard it often.

I commend your care
That know your vertues! why should modesty
Stop good mens mouthes from their own praise? our neighbours
Are envious, and will rather blast our memories
With infamy, then immortalize our names:
When Fame hath taken cold, and lost her voice,
We must be our own trumpets; carefull men
Will have an Inventory of their goods,
And why not of their vertues? should you say
You were not wise, it were a sinne to truth.
[Page 60] [...] [Page 61] [...] [Page 62]Let Eirons modesty tell bashfull lies,
To cloake and masque his parts; hee's a foole for't.
Twas heavenly counsell bid us know our selves.
You may be confident, chaunt your own encomiums,
Ring out a Panegyrique to your selfe▪
And your selfe write the learned Commentarie
Of your own actions.

So I have.


Where is it?


Tis stolne.

I know the thiefe, they call him Cesar.
Goe in good sir; there is within a Glasse
That will present you with the Felons face. Exit Alaz.
Eiron, you hear the newes!

Not I, what is it?


That you are held the only man of Art.


Is't currant Colax?

Currant as the aire,
Every man breaths it for a certainty.
This is the first time I hear'd on't in truth.
Can it be certain? so much charity left
In mens opinion?
You call it charity
Which is their duty: Vertue sir, like yours
Commands mens praises. Emptinesse and folly,
Such as Alazon is, use their own Tongues,
While reall worth hears her own praise, not speaks it.
Other mens mouths become your trumpeters,
And winged fame proclaimes you lowdly forth
From East to West, till either Pole admire you.
[Page 63]Selfe-praise is bragging, and begets the envy
Of them that heare it, while each man therein
Seemes undervalued: You are wisely silent
In your own worth, and therefore 'twere a sinne
For others to be so: The fish would loose
Their being mute, ere such a modest worth
Should want a speaker: yet sir I would have you
Know your own vertues, be acquainted with them.

Why good sir bring me but acquainted them.

There is a glasse within shewes you your selfe
By a reflection; goe and speake 'em there.

I should be glad to see 'em any where▪

Exit Eir.
Retire your selves againe, for these are sights
Made to revive not burden with delights.
Exeunt omnes.
Finis Actus 3.



  • Flowrdew,
  • Bird,
  • Roscius.
My indignation boileth like a pot,
An over-heated pot, still, still it boyleth,
It boy leth and it bubleth with disdaine.
My Spirit within me too fumeth, I say
Fumeth, and steemeth up, and runneth ore
With holy wrath, at these delights of flesh.

The Actours beg your silence—The next vertue, whose extreames we would present, wants a name both in the Greeke and Latine,


Wants it a name? 'tis an unchristian vertue.

[Page 64]

But they describe it such a modesty as directs us in the pursuit, and refusall of the meaner honours [...] and so an­swers to Magnanimity, as Liberality to Magnificence: But here, that humor of the persons, being already fore­stall'd, and no Pride now so much practis'd, or counte­nanc'd as that of Apparell, let me present you Philotimia, an overcurious Lady too neat in her attire▪ and for Aphi­lotimus, Luparius a nasty sordid sloven.

Pride is a vanity worthy the correction.
Philotimia▪ Luparus▪ Col [...].
What mole drest me to day? O patience▪
Who would be troubled with these mop-eyd Cham­bermaids?
Ther's a whole haire on this side more then t'other,
I am no Lady else!—come on you sloven!
Was ever Christian Madam so tormented
To wed a swine as I am? make you ready.
I would the Tailor had bin hang'd for mee
That first invented cloathes—O nature, nature!
More cruell unto man then all thy creatures!
Calves come into the world with dublets on;
And Oxen have no breeches to put off.
The Lambe is borne with her Freeze-coat about her;
Hoggs goe to bed in rest, and are not troubled
With pulling [...] their hose and shoos i'th'morning,
With gar [...]ing, [...]rdling, trussing, buttoning,
And a [...] that afflict humanity.
To [...]! shee hath made this cheek
By much too [...], and hath forgot to whiten
The naturall rednesse of my nose, she knowes not
[Page 65]What 'tis wants dealbation! O fine memory!
If she has not set me in the selfe same teeth
That I wore yesterday, I am a jew.
Does she think that I can eate twice with the same,
Or that my mouth stands as the Vulgar does?
What? are you snorting there? youle rise, you sluggard
And make you ready?
Rise, and make you ready?
Two workes of that, your happy birds make one;
They when they rise are ready. Blessed birds!
They fortunate creatures sleepe in their own clothes,
And rise with all their feather beds about them:
Would nakednesse were come again in fashion;
I had some hope then when the brests went bare
Their bodies too would have come to 't in time.
Beshrew her for't, this wrinkle is not fill'd!
Youll goe and wash—you are a pretty husband▪
Our Sow ne're washes, yet she has a face
Me thinks as cleanly, Madam, as yours is▪
If you durst weare your own.
Madame Superbia▪
You'are studying the Ladies library,
The Looking-glasse; 'tis well! so great a beauty
Must have her ornaments—Nature adornes
The Peacocks taile with starres; 'tis shee attires
The Bird of Paradise in all her plumes;
She decks the fields with various flowres; 'tis shee
Spangled the Heavens with all those glorious lights;
She spotted th'Ermine's skin; and arm'd the fish
In silver male: But man she sent forth naked
[Page 66]Not that he should remaine so, but that he
Indued with reason should adorne himselfe
With every one of these. The silke-worme is
Only mans spinster, else we might suspect
That she esteem'd the painted Butterfly
Above her master-piece: you are the Image
Of that bright Goddesse: therefore weare the Iewels
Of all the East; let the red sea be ransack'd
To make you glitter, looke on Luparus
Your Husband there, and see how in a sloven
All the best characters of Divinity,
Not yet worne out in man, are lost and buried.

I see it to my griefe, pray counsell him.

This vanity, in your nice Ladies humors
Of being so curious in her toies, and dresses,
Makes me suspitious of her honesty.
These Cobweb-lawnes catch spiders sir, believe it▪
You know that clothes doe not commend the man,
But 'tis the living; though this age preferre
A cloake of Plush, before a braine of art.
You understand what misery 'tis to have
No worth but that we owe the dra [...]er for;
No doubt you spend the time your Lady looses
In tricking up her body, to cloth the soule.
To cloth the soule? must the soule too be cloth'd?
I protest sir, I had rather have no soule
Then be tormented with the clothing of it.

To these enter the extreames of modesty, a neer [...] kinswoman of the vertues, Anaiskinthia or Impudence, a bawd; and Kataplectus an over bashfull Scholar▪ where [Page 67] our Author hopes the women will pardon him, if of foure and twenty vices he presents but two (Pride and Impu­dence) of their sexe.


  • Anaiskintia.
  • Kataplectus.
Here comes Anaiskintia too;—O fates!
Acolastus, and Asotus have sent for mee,
And my breath not perfum'd yet! Kat. O sweetmother,
Are the Gentlemen there already?
Come away,
Are you not asham'd to be so bashfull? well,
If I had thought of this in time, I would
As soone have seene you fairely hang'd as sent you
To' th' Vniversity.

What gentleman is that?

A shamefast Scholar Madam▪—looke upon her,
Speake to her, or you loose your exhibition:
—Youle speake I hope, weare not away your buttons▪

What should I say?

Why tell her you are glad
To see her Ladiship in health—nay out with it!
Katap.—Gaudeo te bone valere
A pretty Proficient!
What standing is he of i'th' Vniversity?

He dares not answer to that question Madam.—


How long have you bin in the Academy?


Profecto Do—Domina sum Bac—Bac—Bac [...]ha­laureus Artium.


What pitty 'tis he is not impudent!

[Page 68]
Nay all my cost I see is spent in vaine;
I having, as your Ladiship knowes full well,
Good practice in the Suburbs; and by reason
That our Mortality there, is very subject
To an infection of the French Disease,
I brought my Nephew up 'ith 'Vniversity,
Hoping he might (having attain'd some knowledge)
Save me the charge of keeping a Physitian;
But all in vaine: he is so bashfull Madam,
He dares not looke upon a womans water.
Sweet Gentleman, proceed in bashfulnesse!
'Tis vertues best preserver—

Recte dicis, sic inquit Aristoteles.

That being gone
The rest soone follow, and a swarme of vice
Enter the soule, no colour but a blush
Becomes a young mans cheeke: pure sha [...]efastnesse
Is [...] to the [...]ps; and eares, that nothing
Might enter, or come out of man, but what
Is good, and modest: Nature strives to hide
The parts or shame, let her, the best of guides,

Natura dux [...].


Teach us to doe so too in our discourse.


Gratias tibi ago.


Inure him to speake bawdy.

A very good way; Kataplectus here's a Lady,
would heare you speake obscenely:

Obscen [...]m est, quod intra scenam agi non [...]portuit.

Off goes your Velvet cap! did I maintaine you
To have you disobedient? you'l be perswaded?
[Page 69]

Liber is operam dare.


What's that in English.


To doe an endeavour for children▪


Some more of this, it may be something one day.


Communis est omnium animantium coniunctio­nis appetituus procrea [...] causâ.


Construe me that.


All creatures have a naturall desire or appetite to be joyned together in the lawfull bon [...]s of Matri­mony, that they may have sons and daughters.

Your Landresse has bestow'd her time but ill▪
Why could not this have been in proper tearmes?
If you should Catechize my head, and say,
What is your name, would it not [...]ay, a head?
So would my skinne confesse it selfe a skinne;
Nor any part about me be asham'd
Of his owne name, although I [...]atechiz'd
All over. Come good Nephew, let not me
Have any member of my body [...].
Our Stoique, the gravest o [...] Philosophers,
Is just of your opinion, and thus argues;
Is any thing obscene, the fil [...]hinesse▪
Is either grounded in the things themselves,
Or in the words that signifie those things;
Not in the things, that would make nature guilty,
Who creates nothing filthy, and u [...]cleane,
But chast, and honest; if not in the things,
How in the words, [...] shadowes of those things?
To ma [...]re ground, [...] a cha [...]t honest [...];
[Page 70]Another word that signifies the same,
Vnlawfull: every man endures to heare,
He got a child; speak plainer, and he blushes,
Yet meanes the same. The Stoique thus disputes,
That would have men to breath as freely down'ward,
As they doe upward.
I commend him Madam,
Vnto your Ladyships service, he may me [...]d
With counsell! let him be your Gentleman-usher;
Madam you may in time bring down his legs
To the just size, now over grown with playing
Too much at foot-ball.
So he will prove a Stoique;
I long to have a Stoique strut before me:
Here kisse my hand. Come what is that in Latine?

Deo [...]culor manum,


My lip;—nay sir you must if I command you.


Osculorte, velosculor ate.


His breath smells strong.


'Tis but of Logick Madam.

He will come to it one day—you shall goe with mee
To see an exquisite glasse to dresse me by.
Nay, goe! you must goe first; you are too mannerly.
It is the office of your place, so—on▪.
Slow Luparus rise, or you'l be metamorphos'd;
Acteon's fate is imminent.

Where's my wife:


Shee's gone with a young Snip, and an old baud.

Then I am cuckolded; if I be my comfort is
[Page 71]She'has put me on a cap, that will not trouble me
With pulling off, yet Madam I'le prevent you.

The next are the extreames of Iustice.

SCEN. 3.

Enter Iustice Nimis, Iustice Nihil. Plus and Minus their Clarkes.



What sayes your worship?

Have my tenants
That hold their lease of lust here in the suburbs,
By copy-hold from me, their Lord in chief,
Paid their rent charge?
They have, and't please your worship;
I Receiver generall gave 'em my acquittance.
Sir I resigne my Pen, and Inkhorn to you,
I shall forget my hand, if I stay here.
I have not made a Mittimus since I serv'd you.
Were I a reverend Iustice as you are,
I would not sit a Cipher on the Bench,
But doe as Iustice Nimis does, and be
The Dominus-fac-totun [...] of the Sessions.
But I will be a Dominus fac miserecordian▪
Instead of your Totums: People shall not wish
To see my spurres fil'd off, it does me good
To take a mercifull nap upon the Bench,
Where I soe sweetly dreame of being pittifull,
wake the better for it.
[Page 72]
The yearly value
Of my faire manour of Clerken-well [...], is pounds
So many—besides New years capons, the Lordship
Of Turnball so—which with my Pick-hatch grange—
And Shoreditch farme, and other premises
Adjoyning,—very good, a pretty maintenance
To keepe a Iustice of Peace, and Coram too:
Besides the fines I take of young beginners,—
With harriots of all such as dye, quatenus whores,
And ruin'd bauds, with all Amercements due
To such as hunt in Purly; this is something,
With mine own Game reserv'd.
Besides a pretty pittance too for me,
That am your worships Bayly.
Will't please your worship sir, to heare the Ca­talogue
Of such offenders, as are brought before you?
It does not please me Sir, to heare of any
That doe offend; I would the world were innocent!
Yet to expresse my mercy you may read them.

First here is one accus'd for Cutting a purse,

Accus'd, is that enough? if it be guilt
To be accus'd, who shall be innocent?
Discharge him Parum.
Here's another brought
For the same fact, ta'ne in the very Action.
Alas it was for need, bid him take warning,
And so discharge him too; 'Tis the first time.

Plus, say, what hopes of gaine brings this day's sinne?

[Page 73]
Anais kyntia Sir was at doore
Brought by the Constable.
Set the Constable by the heeles.
Shee's at certain with us.

Then there's Intemperance the baud.


A Tenant too.


With the young Lady, Madam Incontinence.

Search o're my Doomes-day book; is not she [...] Plus
One of my last compounders?
I remember it.
Then there is jumping Iude, Heroique Doll,
With bouncing Nan, and Cis, your worship's sinner.

All Subsidy women, goe free'em all.

Sir, here's a knowne offender: one that has
Been stockt, and whipt innumerable times,
Has suffer'd Bridewell often, not a Iayle
But hee's familiar with, burnt in the hand,
Forehead, and shoulder, both his eares cut off,
With his nose slit, what shall I doe with him?
So often punish'd? nay, if no correction
Will serve his turne; e'en let him runne his course.

Here's Mistresse Fraylty too, the waiting woman.


For what offence?


A sinne of weaknesse too.


Let her be strongly whipt,

An't please your worship
She has a noble mans letter.
Tell her, Plus, she must
Have the Kings Picture too.
[Page 74]
She has promis'd me I should examine her
Above i'th' garret.

What's all that to me?


And she entreats your worship to accept—

Nay, if she can entreat in English, Plus,
Say she is injur'd.
Sir here's Snip the Taylor
Charg'd with a riot.
Parum, let him goe,
He is our Neighbour.

Then there is a stranger for quarrelling.

A stranger! o'tis pity
To hurt a stranger, we may be all strangers,
And would be glad to find some mercy Parū.
Sir here's a Gentle-woman of S. Ioanes 'his
Charg'd with dishonesty.
With dishonesty?
Severity will amend her, and yet Plus
Aske her a question, if she will be honest?

And here's a coblers wife brought for a scold.

Tell her of cooking-stooles, tell her there be
Oyster queanes, with Orange woemen,
Carts, and coaches store, to make a noyse;
Yet i [...] she can speak English
We may suppose her silent.
Here's a Batchelour
And a Citizens wife for flatt Adultery;
What will you doe with them?
A Citizens wife!
[Page 75]Perchance her husband is grown impotent,
And who can blame her then?

Yet I hope you'l bind o're▪the Batchelour.

No: enquire
First if he have no wife, for if the Batchelour
Have not a wife of his owne, 'twas but frailty;
And Iustice counts it veniall.
Here's one Adicus,
And Sophron, that doe mutually accuse
Each other of flat fellony!

Of the two which is the richer?


Adicus is the richer.


Then Sophron is the thief.

Here is with all,
Panourgus come with one calld Prodotes,
Lay treason Sir to one anothers charge;
Panourgus is the richer.

Hee's the Traytour then.


How Sir the richer?

Thou art ignorant Plus;
We must doe some injustice for our credit,
Not all for gaine.
Eutrapeles complains Sir,
Bomolochus has abus'd him.

Send Eutrapeles to th'Iayle.


It is Eutrapeles that complaines Sir.

Tell him we are pleas'd to think 'twas he of­fended.
Will must be law: wer't not for Summum Ius,
How could the land subsist?
[Page 76]
I, or the Iustices
Maintaine themselves—goe on—The Land wants such
As dare with rigor execute her Lawes:
Her festred members must be lanc't and tented.
Hee's a bad Surgeon, that for pitty spares
The part corrupted, 'till the Gangrene spread,
And all the body perish; he that's mercifull
Vnto the bad, is cruell to the good.
The Pillory must cure the eares disease;
The stocks the foots offences; let the backe
Beare her own sinne, and her ranke blood purge forth
By the Phlebotomy of a whipping post:
And yet the secret, and purse punishment
Is held the wiser course; because at once
It helpes the vertuous and corrects the vitious.
Let not the sword of Iustice sleepe and rust
Within her velvet sheath; preserve her edge,
And keepe it sharpe with cutting. Vse must whet her,
Tame mercy is the brest that suckles vice,
Till Hydra like she multiply her heads.
Tread you on sinne, squeeze out the Serpents braines,
All you can finde—for some have lurking holes
Where they lye hid. But there's within a glasse
Will shew you every close offenders face.
Come Plus let's goe in to finde out these con­cealements;
We will grow rich, and purchase honour thus—
I mean to be a Baron of Snmmum Ius.
Exit. Ni. Plus.
You are the strangest man, you will ac­knowledge
[Page 77]None for offendors, here's one apprehended
For murther.



He kill'd a man last night.


How cam't to passe.


Vpon a falling out.


They shall be friends I'le reconcile'em Parum.


One of them is dead.


Is he not buried yet?


No Sir.


Why then I say they shall shake hands.

As you have done
With Clemency, most Reverend Iustice Nihil;
A gentle mildnesse thrones it selfe within you.
Your Worship would have justice, use her ballance
More then her sword; nor can you endure to dye
The robe she weares, deep scarlet, in the blood
Of poore offendors: How many men hath rigour
By her too hasty, and severe proceedings
Prevented from amendment, that perchance
Might have turn'd honest and have prov'd good Chri­stians?
Should Iove not spare his thunder, but as often
Discharge at us, as we dart sins at him,
Earth would want men, and he himselfe want armes,
And yet tire Vulcan, and Pyracmon too.
You imitate the Gods! and he sins lesse
Strikes not at all, then he strikes once amisse.
I would not have justice too falcon-eyed;
Sometimes a wilfull blindnesse much becomes her;
[Page 78]As when upon the bench she sleepes and winkes
At the transgressions of Mortality:
In which most mercifull posture I have seene
Your pittifull Worship snorting out pardons
To the despairing sinner: there's within
A Mirrour sir like you! goe see your face
How like Astreas 'tis in her own Glasse.
And I'le petition Iustice Nimi's Clerke
To admit me for his under officer.

SCEN. 4.

  • Agroicus.

This is Agroicus, a rustique clownish fellow, whose discourse is all Country; An extreame of urbanity, where­by you may observe there is a vertue in jesting.


They talke of witty discourse, and fine conceits, and I ken not what a deale of prittle prattle would make a Cat pisse to heare 'em. Cannot they be content with their Grannams English? They thinke they talke learnedly, when I had rather heare our brindled curre howle, or Sow grunt. They must be breaking of jests with a murraine, when I had as live heare 'em breake wind Sir reverence! My zonne Dick is a pretty Bookish Scholar of his age, God blesse him; he can write and read, and makes bonds, and bills, and hobligations, God save all. But by'r lady, if I wotted it would make him such a Iacksauce, as to have more wit then his vore-vathers, he should have learn'd nothing for old Agroicus, but to keepe a Tally. There is a new trade [Page 79] lately come up to be a vocation, I wis not what; they call 'em—Boets, a new name for Beggars I think, since the statute against Gypsies. I would not have my zon Dick one of those Boets for the best Pig in my styeby the mackins: Boets? heau'n shield him, and zend him to be a good Varmer; if he can cry hy, ho, gee, hut, gee, ho, it is better I trow then being a Poet. Boets? I had rather zee him remitted to the jayle, and haue his twelve God-vathers, good men and true contemne him to the Gallowes; and there see him vairely perse­cuted. There is Bomolochus one of these Boets, now a bots take all the red-nose tribe of 'em for Agroicus! he does so abuse his betters! well 'twas a good world, when I virst held the Plow!

They car'd not then so much for speaking well
As to mean honest, and in you still lives
The good simplicity of the former times:
When to doe well was Rhetorique, not to talke.
The tongue disease of Court spreads her infections
Through the whole Kingdome, flattery, that was wont
To be confin'd within the virge, is now
Grown Epidemicall, for all our thoughts
Are borne between our lips: The heart is made
A stranger to the tongue; as if it us'd
A language that she never understood.
What is it to be witty in these daies,
But to be bawdy, or prophane, at least
Abusive? Wit is grown a petulant waspe,
And stings she knows not whom, nor where, nor why;
Spues vinegar, and gall on all she meets
[Page 80]Without distinction—buyes laughter with the losse
Of reputation, father, kinsman, friend;
Hunts Ord'naries only to deliver
The idle Timpanies of a windy braine,
That beats and throbs above the paine of child-bed,
Till every eare she meets be made a mid wife
To her light Bastard-issue, how many times
Bomolochus sides, and shoulders ake, and groane!
Hee's so witty—here he comes—away—

His wit is dangerous and I dare not stay.


SCEN. 5.

  • Bomolocus.

This is the other extreame of Vrbanity; Bomolocus a fellow conceited of his own wit, though indeed it be no­thing but the base dreggs of scandall, and a lumpe of most vile and loathsome scurrility.

I, this is he we lookt for all the while!
Scurrility! here she hath her impious throne,
Here lies her heathenish dominion,
In this most impious cell of corruption;
For 'tis a Purgatory, a meerc Limbo,
Where the black Divell and her damme Scurrility
Doe rule the rost; fowle Princes of the aire!
Scurrility! that is he that throweth scandalls,
Soweth, and throweth scandalls, as 'twere durt
Even in the face of holinesse, and devotion.
His presence is contagious, like a dragon
He belches poison forth, poison of the pit,
[Page 81]Brimstone, hellish and sulphureous poyson:
I will not stay, but fly as farre as zeale
Can hurry me—the roofe will fall and braine me,
If I endure to heare his blasphemies,
His gracelesse blasphemies.
He shall vent none here;
But stay, and see how justly we have us'd him.

Stay brother, I doe find the spirit grow strong.

Haile sacred wit!—Earth breeds not Baies enough
To crowne thy spatious merit.


Cratinus, Eupolis, Aristophanes,
Or whatsoever other wit did give
Old Comedies the raines, and let her loose
To stigmatize what brow she pleas'd with slander
Of people, Prince, Nobility—All must yeeld
To this Triumphant braine!


They say you'l loose a friend before a jest;
'Tis true, there's not a jest that comes from you,
That is the true Minerva of this braine,
But is of greater value then a world
Of friends, were every prayre of men we meet
A Pylades and Orestes.


Some say you will abuse your Father too,
Rather then loose the opinion of your wit;
Who would not that has such a wit as yours?
'Twere better twenty Parents were expos'd
To scorne and laughter, then the simplest thought
[Page 82]Or least conceit of yours, should dye abortive,
Or perish a braine-Embrio.


How's this? that tongue growne silent that syrens
Stood still to admire?


Twere better that the spheares should loose their harmony,
And all the Choristers of the wood grow hoarse!
What wolfe hath spied you first?


Sure Hermes envying that there was on earth
An eloquence more then his, has struck you dumb!
Malitious deitie!


Goe in sir there's a Glasse that will restore
That tongue, whose sweetnesse Angels might adore.


Thus Sir you see how we have put a gagge
In the licentious mouth of base scurrility;
He shall not Ibis-like purge upward here,
To infect the place with pestilentiall breath;
Wee'le keepe him tongue-tide; you and all I pro­mise
By Phoebus and his daughters, whose chast zones
Were never yet by impure hands untied
Our language shall flow chast, nothing sound here
That can give just offence to a strict eare.

This gagge hath wrought my good opinion of you

[Page 83]

I begin to think 'em lawfull recreations.

Now there's none left here, wheron to practise,
I'le flatter my deare selfe—o that my skill
Had but a body, that I might embrace it,
Kisse it; and hugge it, and beget a brood,
Another brood of pretty skills upon it!
Were I divided I would hate all beauties,
And grow enamour'd with my other halfe!
Selfe-love, Narcissus, had not been a fault,
Hadst thou, instead of such a beauteous face,
Had but a braine like mine: I can guild vice,
And praise it into Alchymie, till it goe
For perfect gold, and cozen almost the touchstone.
I can perswade a toad into an oxe,
Till swel'd too bigge with my Hyperboles
She burst a sunder; and 'tis vertues name
Lends me a maske to scandalize herselfe.
Vice, if it be no more, can nothing doe;
That art is great makes vertue guilty too.
I have such strange varieties of colours,
Such shift of shapes, blew Proteus sure begot me
On a Camelion, and I change so quick
That I suspect my mother did conceive me,
As they say Mares doe, on some wind or other.
I'le peepe to see how many fooles I made
With a report of a miraculous Glasse.
—Heaven blesse me, I am ruin'd! o my braine
Witty to my undoing, I have jested
My selfe to an eternall misery.
I see le [...]ne hunger with her meager face
[Page 84]Ride poast to overtake me, I doe prophesie
A Lent immortall: Phoebus I could curse
Thee and thy brittle gifts, Pandora's box
Compar'd with this might be esteem'd a blessing.
The Glasse which I conceiv'd a fabulous humour
Is to the height of wonder prov'd a truth.
The two Extreames of every Vertue there
Beholding how they either did exceed,
Or want of just proportion, joyn'd together,
And are reduc'd into a perfect Meane:
As when the skilfull and deep learn'd Physitian
Does take two different poisons, one that's cold
The other in the same degree of heate,
And blend's them both to make an Antidote;
Or as the Lutanist takes Flats and Sharpes,
And out of those so dissonant notes, does strike
A ravishing Harmony. Now there is no vice
'Tis a hard world for Colax: What shift now?
Dyscolus doth expect me—since this age
Is growne too wise to entertaine a Parasite,
I'le to the Glasse, and there turne vertuous too,
Still strive to please, though not to flatter you.
There is good use indeed-la to be made
From their Conversion.
Very good insooth—la
And edifying.
Give your eyes some respite.
You know already what our Vices be,
In the next Act you shall our Vertues see.


SCEN. 1.

  • Roscius.
  • Flowrdew.
  • Bird.
Now verily I find the devout Bee
May suck the hony of good Doctrine thence,
And beare it to the hive of her pure family,
Whence the prophane and irreligious spider
Gathers her impious Venome! I have pick'd
Out of the Garden of this Play, a good
And wholesome salad of instruction!
What doe you next present?

The severall Vertues.


I hope there be no Cardinall Vertues there!


There be not.

Then I'le stay; I hate a Vertue
That will be made a Cardinall: Cardinall vertues,
Next to Pope-vertues, are most impious;
And Bishop-vertues are unwarrantable:
I will allow of none but Deacon-vertues,
Or Elder-vertues.

These are Morall vertues.


Are they Lay-vertues?



Then they are lawfull,
Vertues in Orders are unsanctified.
We doe present them royall, as they are
In all their state, in a full dance.
What dance?
No wanton Iig I hope, no dance is lawfull
But Prinkam Prankam!
[Page 86]
Will Vertues dance?
I hate a Vertue in a Morrice-dance!
O vile, absurd, may pole—maid-marrian vertue

Dancing is lawfull.

  • Flourish.
Enter Mediocritie.

Who's this?


It is the mother of the Vertues.


Mother of Pearle I thinke, she is so gawdy


It is the golden Mediocritie.


She looketh like the Idoll of Cheap-side.

  • Mediocritie.
I am that even course that must be kept
To shunne two dangerous gulfes; the middle tract
'Twixt Scylla and Charibdis; the small Isthmus
That suffers not the' Aegean tide to meet
The violent rage of the Ionian wave.
I am a bridge o'rean Impetuous sea;
Free, and safe passage to the wary step!
But he whose wantonnesse, or folly dares
Decline to either side falls desperate
Into a cetaine ruine.—Dwell with me,
Whose mansion is not plac'd so neare the Sunne,
As to complaine of's neighbourhood, and be scorch'd
With his directer beames: nor so remote
From his bright rayes as to be situate
Vnder the Icy Pole of the cold Beare;
But in a temperate zone: 'tis I am she,
I am the golden Mediocritie:
The labour of whose wombe are all the vertues,
[Page 87]And every passion too commendable:
Sisters so like themselves, as if they were
All but one birth; no difference to distinguish them
But a respect they beare to severall objects:
Else had their names beene one as are their features.
So when eleven faire Virgins of a blood
All Sisters, and alike growne ripe of yeares,
Match into severall houses, from each family,
Each takes a name distinct, and all are different'd!
They are not of complexion red or pale,
But a sweet mixture of the flesh and blood,
As if both roses were confounded there.
Their stature neither Dwarfe nor [...]yantish,
But in a comely well dispos'd proportion!
And all so like their mother, that indeed
They are all mine, and I am each of them.
When in the midst of dangers I stand up
A wary confidence betwixt feare and daring,
Not so ungodly bold as not to be
Fearefull of heav'ns just anger when she speaks
In prodigies, and tremble at the hazard
Of my Religion, shake to see my Country
Threatned with fire and sword, be a stark coward
To any thing may blast my reputation:
But I can scorne the worst of poverty,
Sicknesse, Captivity, Banishment, Grim death,
If she dare meete me in the bed of honour;
Where, with my Countries cause upon my sword
Not edg'd with hope or anger, nor made bold
With civill blood, or customary danger;
[Page 88]Nor the fooles whetstone, Inexperience;
I can throw valour as a lightning from me,
And then I am the Amazon fortitude!
Give me the moderate cup of lawfull pleasures,
And I am Temperance. Take me wealths just steward,
And call me Liberality; with one hand
I'le gather riches home, and with the other
Rightly distribute 'em, and there observe
The persons, quantity, quality, time and place:
And if in great expences I be set
Chiefe Arbitresse, I can in glorious workes,
As raising Temples, Statues, Altars, shrines
Vestures, and ornaments to Religion, be
Neither too thrifty nor too prodigall.
And to my country the like meane observe,
In building Ships, and Bulwarkes, Castles, walls
Conducts, Theaters, and what else may serve her
For use or ornament: And at home be royall
In Buildings, Gardens, costly furniture,
In entertainments free and hospitable,
With a respect to my estate, and meanes,
And then I may be nam'd Magnificence;
As Magnanimity, when I wisely aime
At greatest honours, if I may deserve'm,
Not for ambition, but for my Countryes good,
And in that vertue all the rest doe dwell.
In lesser dignities I want a name;
And when I am not over patient,
To put up such grosse wrongs as call me coward,
But can be angry, yet in that observe
[Page 89]What cause hath mov'd my anger, and with whom,
Looke that it be not suddaine, nor too thirsty
Of a revenge, nor violent, nor greater
Then the offence, know my time when, where
I must be angry, and how long remaine so;
Then then you may surname me Mans [...]ude.
When in my carriage and discourse I keepe
The meane that neither flatters nor offends,
I am that vertue the well nurtur'd Court
Gives name, and should doe being—Courtesy.
Twixt fly dissembling and proud arrogance
I am the vertue time calls daughter, Truth.
Give me my sword and ballance rightly swayd,
And Iustice is the Title I deserve.
When on this stage I come with innocent wit,
And jests that have more of the sait then gall,
That move the laughter and delight of all,
Without the griefe of one, free, chast conceits,
Not scurrile, base, obscene, ill [...]berall
Or contumelious slanders, I am then
The vertue they have term'd, Vrbanity:
To whom if your least countenance may appeare.
She vowes to make her constant dwelling here.
My daughters now are come—

The Song—SCEN. 2.

The Masque, wherein all the Vertues dance together.
Medi [...].
You have seene all my daughters, Gentlemen,
[Page 90]Chuse you wives hence; you that are Batchelors
Can finde no better; And the married too
May wed 'em, yet not wrong their former wives.
Two may have the same wife, and the same man
May wed two Vertues, yet no Bigamie:
He that weds most is chastest; These are all
The daughters of my wombe; I have five more,
The happy Issue of my Intellect,
And thence syrnam'd the intellectuall Vertues.
They now attend not on their Mothers train,
We hope they Act in each spectators braine!
I have a Necce besides, a beauteous one
My daughters deare companion—louely Friendship
A royall Nymph; her we present not to,
It is a vertue we expect from you.

Exit cum Chorocantantium.

SCEN. 3.


O Sister what a glorious traine they be!

They seeme to mee the Family of Love,
But is there such a Glasse; good Roscius?
There is! sent hither by the great Apollo,
Who in the worlds bright eye and every day
Set in his Car of light, survaies the earth
From East to West: who finding every place
Fruitfull in nothing but fantastique follies,
And most ridiculous humors, as he is
The God of Physique, thought it appertain'd
To him to finde a cure to purge the earth
Of ignorance and sinne, two grand diseases,
[Page 91]And now grown Epidemicall: many Receits
He thought upon, as to have planted Hellebore
In every Garden—But none pleas'd like this.
He takes out water from the Muses spring,
And sends it to the North, there to be freez'd
Into a Christall—That being done, he makes,
A Mirror with it: and instills this vertue,
That it should by reflection shew each man
All his deformities both of soule and body.
And cure 'em both—
Good Brother lets goe see it!
Saints may want something of perfection.
The Glasse is but of one daies continuance,
For Pluto, thinking if it should cure all,
His Kingdome would grow empty, (for 'tis sin
That Peoples hell) went to the fates and bid 'em
Spin it too short a thred: (for every thing
As well as man is measur'd by their spindle.)
They, as they must obey, gave it a thread
No longer then the Beast's of Hyppanis
That in one day is spun, drawne out, and cut.
But Phoebus to require the black Gods envy,
Will when the Glasse is broke transfuse her vertue
To live in Comedy—If you meane to see it
Make hast—

We will goe post to reformation.

Nor is the Glasse of so short life I feare
As this poore labour—our distrustfull Author
Thinkes the same Sun that rose upon her cradle
Will hardly set before her funerall:
[Page 93]Your gratious and kind acceptance may
Keepe her alive from death, or when shees dead
Raise her again, and spin her a new thread.

SCEN. 4.

Enter Flowrdew and Bird.
This ignorance even makes religion sin,
Sets zeale upon the rack, and stretches her
Beyond her length—Most blessed Looking-glass [...]
That didst instruct my blinded eyes to day,
I might have gone to hell the Narrow-way!
Hereafter I will visit Comedies,
And see them oft, they are good exercises!—
I'le teach devotion now a milder temper,
Not that it shall loose any of her heat
Or Purity, but henceforth shall be such
As shall burne bright although not blaze so much.
Exe [...]nt.

Roscius solus.

Y'Have seen The Muses Looking-glasse, Ladyes fair,
And Gentle-youths; And others too who ere
Have fill'd this Orbe: it is the end we meant
Your selves unto your selves still to present.
A souldier shall himselfe in Hector see,
Grave Councellors, Nestor, view themselves in thee.
When Lucrece Part shall on our Stage appeare,
Every chast Ladie sees her shaddow there.
Nay come who will, for our indifferent Glasses
Will show both fooles, and knaves, and all their faces,
To vexe and cure them: But we need not feare,
We doe not doubt but each one now that's here,
That has a faire soule and a Beauteous face,
Will visit oft the Muses Looking-glasse.


A PASTORALL ACTED before the KING & QUEENE at White-Hall.


Pastorem, Tityre, pingues Pascere oportet oves, diductum dicere Carmen.


Printed by Leonard Lichfield, for Francis Bowman. 1638.

Drammatis Personae.

  • Pilumnus. The high Priest of Ceres: Father to Da­mon and Vrania.
  • Medorus. Father to Laurinda.
  • Claius. A wild Sylvan, father to Amyntas and Amaryllis.
  • Corymbus. An under Priest.
  • Two Rivalls in Laurinda's Love.
    • Damon.
    • Alexis.
  • Amyntas. A mad Sheapheard.
  • Laurinda. A wavering Nymph.
  • Vrania. A sad Nymph, enamoured on Amyntas.
  • Amarillis. A distressed sheapheardesse, in love with Damon.
  • Thestylis. An old Nymph, sister to Claius.
  • Iocastus. A fantastique sheapherd & fairy Knight.
  • Bromius. His man, a blunt Clowne.
  • Mopsus. A foolish Augur enamoured on Thestylis.
  • Dorylas. A knavish boy.
  • Echo.
  • Chorus of Priests.
  • Chorus of Sheapheards.
  • Chorus of Nymphs.
Quorum fit mentio.
  • Philaebus.
  • Lalage.
  • Mycon.

The Scene Sicilie, in the holy Vale.

The time an Astrologicall day from Noone to Noone.


  • Nymph.
  • Shepheard.

ILe speak the Prologue.


Then you doe mee wrong.


Why, dare your Sexe compare with ours for Tongue?


A Female Prologue!


Yes, as well as Male.


That's a new trick;


And t'other is as stale.


Men are more eloquent then women made▪


But women are more powrfull to perswade.


It seemes so; for I dare no more contend.


Then best give ore the strife, and make an end.


I will not yeeld.


Shall we divide it then?


You to the Woemen speak.


You to the Men.

Gentlemen, looke not from us Rurall swains
For polish'd speech, high lines, or Courtly straines:
Expect not we should bring a labour'd Scene,
Or complements; we ken not what they meane.
And Ladies, we poore Country Girles doe come
With such behaviour as we learn'd at home.
How shall we talke to Nymphs so trim and gay,
That nere saw Lady yet but at a May?
His Muse is very bashfull, should you throw
A Snake into her Cradle, I doe know
Shee is no Hercules to outlive your Ire:
One Hisse would make the fearfull foole expire,
Without a sting.
Gentlemen doe but you
Like this, no matter what the Woemen doe.
It was a sawcy Swaine thus to conclude!
Ladies, the Gentlemen are not so rude,
If they were ever school'd by powrefull love,
As to dislike the things you shall approve.
If you but like him 'twill be greater praise
Then if each Muse of Nine had fetch'd him Baies.




  • Laurinda.
  • Dorylas.

TIs newes Laurinda that will ravish you!

How, ravish mee? if't be such desperat newes
I pray conceale it▪

So I will.

Nay Dorylas,
Pray tell it though.

Tis desperat newes,


But prithee doe.


I must conceale it.


Doe not.


Mistresse, you have prevail'd: I will relate it.


No matter though whether you doe or no.


No? then I will not tell you.

Yet I care not
Much if I heare it.
[Page 2]
And I care not much
Whether I tell't or no.

What is it?




Sweet Dorylas let me know.

What pretty weather-cocks
These women are? I serve a Mistresse here
Fit to have made a Planet: sheele waxe and wane
Twice in a minute.
But good Dorylas
Your newes.

Why excellent Newes!


But what?

Rare newes!
Newes fit,

For what?

To be conceal'd: why Mistresse
The Rivalls, those on whom this Powerfull face
Doth play the tyra [...]t.—

Dorylas what of them?

Now, now shee wanes: O for a dainty Husband
To make her a full Moone. The amorous couple!
Your brace of sweet hearts Damon and Alexis
Desire your audience.
Is this all your newes?
You may conceale it.
Now you have heard it told
I may conceale it! well I thanke thee Nature
Thou didst create mee Man, for I want wit
Enough to make up woman: but good Mistresse
[Page 3]What doe you think of Damon?
As a man
Worthy the best of Nymphs:

What of Alexis?

As one that may deserve the fairest Virgin
In Sicilie.

What Virgin?

Were shee yet Ceres daughter.

And what Damon?


Hee? Ceres selfe, were she not yet a Mother:

Creet, Creet! There is no Labyrinth but a woman [...]
Laurinda, gentle Mistresse tell mee which
Of these you love?

Why Damon best of any.


Why so, that's well and plain.


Except Alexis.


Why then you love Alexis best?


Of any.


I am glad ont.


But my Damon.

Be this true
And Ile be sworne Cupid is turn'd a jugler?
Praesto! you love Alexis best but Damon,
And Damon but Alexis! Love you Damon?

I doe.


And not Alexis?


And Alexis.


Shee would ha'both I thinke.


Not I by Ceres.

[Page 4]

Then you love neither?


Yes, I doe love either.

Either, and yet not both, both best, yet neither;
Why doe you torture those with equall Racks,
That both vow service to you? If your love
Have pre fer'd Damon, tell Alexis of it;
Or if Alexis, let poore Damon know it,
That he which is refus'd, smothering his flame,
May make another choice, now doubtfull hope
Kindles desires in both.
Ah Dorylas,
Thy yeares are yet uncapable of love!
Thou hast not learn'd the mysteries of Cupid!
Dost thou not see through all Sicilia,
From gentlest sheapheards to the meanest swaines,
What inauspitious torches Hymen lights
At every wedding? what unfortunate hands
Linke in the wedding ring? Nothing but feares
Iarres, discontents, suspicions, jealousies,
These many yeares meet in the Bridall sheetes.
Or if all these be missing, yet a Barrennesse,
A curse as cruell, or Abortive births
Are all the blessings crowne the Geniall bed▪
Till the successe prove happier, and I finde
A blessed change, ile temper my affection
Conceale my flames, dissemble all my fires
And spend those yeares I owe to Love and Beauty
Only in choosing on whose love to fixe
My Love and beauty.
Rare Feminine wisdome:
[Page 5]Will you admit 'em.
Yes, goe call them hither.
Yet doe not, now I thinke on't: yet you may too;
And yet come back againe.

Nay I will goe.


Why Dorylas.


What newes?


Come back I say.


Yes to be sent againe.


You'l stay I hope.


Not I by Ceres.



No good Mistresse
Farewell for I at length have learn'd to know
You call me back only to bid mee goe.
Tis no great matter sirrah:—when they come
Ile beare my selfe so equall unto both,
As both shall thinke I love him best, this way
I keepe both fires alive, that when I please
I may take which I please.—But who comes here?

SCEN. 2.

  • Laurinda.
  • Thestylis.

O Thestylis y'are welcome!

If Laurinda,
My too abrupt intrusion come so rudely
As to disturbe your private Meditations,
I beg your pardon!
How now Thestylis?
[Page 6]Grown Orator of late? has learned Mopsus
Read Rhetorique unto you, that you come
To see me with Exordiums?
No Laurinda;
But if there be a charme call'd Rhetorique;
An art, that woods and forrests cannot skill;
That with persuasive magique could command
A pitty in your soule, I would my tongue
Had learn'd that powerfull art!
Why Thestylis,
Thou know'st the brests I suck'd were neither wolves
Nor Tygers, and I have a heart of waxe,
Soft and soone melting; try this amorous heart; 'tis not
Of flint or marble.
If it were, Laurinda,
The teares of her, whose orator I come
Have power to soften it. Beuteous Amaryllis,
Shee that in this unfortunate age of love,
This haplesse time of Cupids tyranny
Plac'd her affection on a skornfull sheapheard,
One that disdaines her love.
Disdaines her love!
I tell thee Thestylis in my poore judgement,
(And women if no envy blind their eyes,
Best judge of womens beauties) Amaryllis
May make a Bride worthy the proudest sheapheard
In all Sicilia: but wherein can I
Pitty this injur'd Nymph?
Thus she desires you,
As you desire to thrive in him you love;
[Page 7]As you doe love him whom you most desire,
Not to love Damon! Damon alas repaies
Her love with skorne! Tis a request she saies
She knowes you cannot grant, but if you doe not
Shee will not live to aske again.
Poore Nymph.
My Amaryllis knowes my fidelity;
How often have we sported on the Lawnes,
And danc'd a roundelay to Iocastus pipe?
If I can doe her service Thestylis,
Be sure I will: Good wench, I dare not stay
Least I displease my Father; who in this age
Of haplesse lovers watches me as close
As did the Dragon the Hesperian fruit.
Exit Laur.
Farewell Laurinda! Thus poore [...]oole
I toyle for others; like the painfull Bee
From every flower cull hony drops of love
To bring to others hives: Cupid does this
Cause I am Claius sister. Other Nymphs
Have their varietie of loves, for every gowne,
Nay every petticote; I have only one,
The poore foole Mopsus! yet no matter wench,
Fooles never were in more request then now.
Ile make much of him, for that woman lyes
In weary sheetes, whose Husband is too wise.

SCEN. 3.

  • Thestylis.
  • Mopsus.
  • Iocastus.
Iocastus, I love Thestylis abominably,
The mouth of my affection waters at her.
Be wary Mopsus, learne of mee to skorne
The mortalls; choose a better match: goe love
Some Fairy Lady! Princely Oberon
Shall stand thy friend: and beauteous Mab his Queene
Give thee a Maid of Honour.
How Iocastus?
Marry a puppet? Wed a mote ith' Sunne?
Goe looke a wife in nutshells? wooe a gnat
That's nothing but a voice? No no, Iocastus,
I must have flesh and blood, and will have Thestylis.
A fig for Fairies!
—Tis my sweet-heart Mopsus,
And his wise brother: O the twins of folly!
These doe I entertaine only to season
The poore Amyntas madnesse.
Sacred red and white,
How fares thy reverend beauty?
Very ill
Since you were absent, Mopsus! where have you
Beene all this live-long houre?
I have been
Discoursing with the birds.

Why, can birds speake?

In Fairy land they can: I have heard 'em chirpe
[Page 9]Very good Greeke and Latin.
And our Birds
Talke better farre then they: a new-laid egge
Of Sicilie shall out talke the bravest Parrat
In Oberons, Vtopia.
But what languages
Doe they speake, servant?
Severall languages,
As Cawation, Chirpation, Hootation.
Whistleation, Crowation, Cackleation,
Shreekation, Hissation.

And Fooleation.

No, that's our language, we our selves speak that,
That are the learned Augurs.
What successe
Does your Art promise?

Very good.

What Birds
Met you then first?

A Wood-cock and a Goose.


Well met.


I told 'em so.


And what might this portend?

Why thus—and first the Wood-cock—Wood and Cock,
Both very good signes. For first the wood doth signify
The fire of our love shall never goeout,
Because it has more fuell: wood doth signify

What the Cock?

[Page 10]
Better then t'other:
That I shall crow ore those that are my rivalls,
And roost my selfe with thee.

But now the Goose?

I, I the Goose, that likes me best of all,
Th'ast heard our gray-b [...]ard sheapherds talk of Rome,
And what the Geese did there: The Goose doth signify
That I shall keep thy Capit [...]ll.

Good gander!


—It cannot choose but strangely please his highnesse!


What are you studying of Iocastus, ha?

A rare devise, a Masque to entertaine
His Grace of Fairy with.

A Masque? what i'st?

An Anti-masque of fleaes, which I have taught
To dance Currantoes on a spiders thread.
An Anti-masque of fleaes? brother me thinkes
A masque of Birds were better, that could dance
The morrice in the aire, Wrens and Robin-redbrests,
Linnets, and Titmise.
So! and why not rather
Your Geese & Wood-cocks? Mortall hold thy tongue,
Thou dost not know the mystery.
Tis true
He tells you Mopsus, leave your Augurie,
Follow his counsell, and be wise.
Be wise?
I skorne the motion! follow his counsell and be wise?
That's a fine trick i'faith! is this an age
[Page 11]For to be wise in?
Then you mean I see,
T'expound the Oracle.
I doe mean to be
—And then a jig of Pismires
Is excellent.
What to interpret Oracles?
A foole must be th'interpreter.
Then no doubt
But you will have the honour.
Nay I hope
I am as faire for't as another man.
If I should now grow wise against my will,
And catch this wisdome!

Never feare it Mopsus.

Twere dangerous ventring. Now I think on't too
Pray Heaven this aire be wholsome! is there not
An antidote against it? what doe you think
Of garlick every morning?
Fy upon't,
'Twill spoile our kissing! and besides I tell you
Garlick's a dangerous dish, eating of garlick
May breed the sicknesse, for as I remember
Tis the Phylosophers dyet.
I am infected, now the fit's upon mee!
Tis some thing like an ague, sure I caught it
With talking with a Scholar next my heart.

How sad a life live I,

Betwixt their folly and Amyntas madnesse!
For Mopsus Ile prescribe you such a diet
As shall secure you.
Excellent she Doctor!
Your women are the best Physitians,
And have the better practice.
First my Mopsus,
Take heed of fasting, for your hungry meales
Nurse wisdome.
True! O what a stomach have I
To be her patient!
Besides, take speciall care
You weare not thred-bare clothes: 'twill breed at least
Suspicion you are wise.

I marry will it.

And walke not much alone; or if you walke
With company, be sure you walke with fooles,
None of the wise.
No, no I warrant you,
Ile walke with no body but my brother here,
Or you, or mad Amyntas.
By all meanes
Take heed of Travell, your beyond-sea wit
Is to be feard.

If ere I travell hang mee.


Not to the Fairy land?

Thither he may.
But above all things we are no beards, long beards
Are signes the braines are full, because the excrements
Come out so plentifully.
[Page 13]
Rather empty,
Because they have sent so much out, as if
Their brains were sunk into their beards: King Oberon
Has ne're a beard, yet for his wit I am sure
He might have beene a Gyant. Who comes here?
Enter Dorylas.
All haile unto the fam'd interpreter
Of fowles and Oracles!

Thankes good Dorylas.

How fares the winged cattell? are the woodcocks,
The jayes, the dawes, the cuckoes, and the owles
In health?

I thank the gracious starres they are!

Like health unto the president of the jigs;
I hope King Oberon and his joyall Mab
Are. well.
They are, I never saw their Graces
Eate such a meale before.

E'ne much good doe't em!


They're rid a hunting.


Hare or Deere my Lord?


Neither, a brace of snailes of the first head.

But Dorylas, there's a mighty quarrell here,
And you are chosen umpire.

About what?

The exposition of the Oracle:
Which of these two you think the verier foole.
It is a difficult cause, first let me pose'em!
You Mopsus, cause you are a learned Augur,
How many are the seven Liberall Sciences?
[Page 14]

Why much about a dozen.

You Iocastus,
When Oberon shav'd himselfe, who was his Barber?
I knew him well, a little dapper youth,
They call him Periwinckle.
A weighty cause and askes a longer time.

Wee'll in the while to comfort sad Amyntas.

Exeunt The. Mop. Io,

SCEN. 4.

  • Dorylas.
  • Laurinda.
I wonder much that Dorylas staies so long,
Faine would I heare whether they'l come or no.

Ha? would you so?

I see in your own messages
You can goe fast enough.
Indeed forsooth,
I loiter'd by the way.

What, will they come?


Which of them?






Alexis will?


Nor he.


How, neither? am I then neglected?


Damon will come.


And not Alexis too?


Only Alexis comes.

[Page 15]
Let him not come.
I wonder who sent for him, unlesse both
Ile speak with none.

Why both will visit you.

Both? one had been too many. Was e're Nymp [...]
So vex'd as I? you sawcy rascall you,
How doe you strive to crosse me?
And sweet Mistresse,
Still I will crosse you, 'tis the only way
Truely to please you.


Enter Medorus.
So, you'l all please her,
I wonder who'l please mee? you all for her
Can run on errants, carry love-sick letters,
And amorous eglogues from her howling suiters,
To her, and back againe, be Cupids Heraulds,
And point out meetings for her.
Truly Sir,
Not I, pray aske my Mistresse: Doe I call
Your sweet-hearts—speak, nay speak it if you can,
Doe I?

Why no.

Nay say your worst I care not,
Did I goe ever?


La-you now!
We were devising nothing but a snare
[Page 14] [...] [Page 15] [...] [Page 16]To catch the Pole-cat,
Sirrah get you in;
Take heed I doe not find your haunts.

What haunts?


You'l in!

I know no haunts I have but to the Dairy,
To skimme the milke-bowles like a lickorish Fairy.
Exit Dor.
He that's a womans keeper, should have eyes
A hundred more then Argus, and his eares
Double the number: Now the newes, what letters?
What posy, ring or bracelet wooes to day?
What Grove to night is conscious of your whispers?
Come tell mee, for I know your trusty squire,
Your litle closet blabbes into your eare
Some secret, let me know it.
Then you feare,
Least I should be in love.
Indeed I doe,
Cupids a dangerous boy, and often wounds
The wanton roving eye.
Were I in love,
Not that I am (for yet by Dian's bow
I have not made my choice,) and yet suppose it,
Suppose I say I were in love, What then?
So I would have thee, but not yet my Girle,
Till loves prove happier, till the wretched Claius
Hath satisfied the Gods.

Why Claius, Father?


Hast thou not heard it?

[Page 17]



Tis impossible.

How should I sir? you know that my discourse
Is all with walls and pictures, I nere meet
The Virgins on the downes.
Why I will tell thee,
Thou knowest Pilumnus?

The high Priest of Ceres?

Yes: This Pilumnus had a sonne Philaebus,
Who was, while yet he was, the only joy
The staffe and comfort of his fathers age,
And might have still beene so, had not fond love
Vndone him.

How did love undoe Philaebus?

Why thus; one Lalage, a beauteous Nymph
As ever eye admired, Alphestus daughter,
Was by her father promis'd him in marriage.

Why hitherto his love had good successe.

But only promis'd: for the sheapherd Claius,
(A name accursed in Sicilian fields!)
Being rich, obtain'd the beauteous Lalage
From sweet Philaebus: he sad heart being rob'd,
Of all his comfort, having lost the beauty
Which gave him life and motion; seeing Claius
Injoy those lips, whose cherries were the food
That nurs'd his soule, spent all his time in sorrow,
In melancholy sighes and discontents;
Look'd like a witherd tree oregrowne with mosse,
His eyes were ever dropping Iceacles.
Disdaine and sorrow made Pilumnus rage,
And in this rage, he makes his moane to Ceres,
[Page 18](Ceres most sacred of Sicilian powers;)
And in those moanes he prosecutes revenge,
And that revenge to fall on Lalage.

Would Ceres heare his praiers?

Silly maid,
His passions were not causelesse; and with what justice
Could she deny Pilumnus? how oft hath he sprinkled,
The finest flowre of wheat, and sweetest myrrhe
Vpon her Altars! Lalage ru'd the time
She flowted brave Philaebus. Now she was great
With two sweet twins, the faire chast Amaryllis,
And mad Amyntas; (an unlucky paire!)
These shee brought forth, but never liv'd to see them:
Lucina caus'd her sorrowes stop her breath.
Leaving this matchlesse paire of beauteous infants,
In whom till now she lives.
After her death,
How far'd the sorrowfull Philaebus?
Then ever: Shee being dead whose life was his,
Whose lookes did hold his eyes from shutting up,
He pin'd away in sorrowes, griefe it was
To see she was not his, but greater farre
That she was not at all. Her Exequies being past,
He casts him down upon that turfe of earth,
Vnder whose roofe his Lalage was hous'd,
And parlied with her ashes, 'till his own lampe
Was quite extinguish'd with a fatall dampe.
Here ended th'noble sheapheard.
Vnhappy lover!
[Page 19]Tis pitty but the Virgins once a yeare,
Should wash his tombe with maiden teares! but now
Both Lalage being dead and her Philebus,
How comes it other loves should prove unfortunate?
Pilumnus having lost this hopefull Sonne,
Though he had two more children, fair Vrania
And noble Damon; yet the death of Lalage
Suffic'd not his revenge, but he a new implores
His goddesse wrath 'gainst Claius:—Doth Ceres prize me thus?
Shall Claius tread upon the flowry Plaine,
And walke upon the Ashes of my boy?
Will I be Archyflamen where the Gods
Are so remisse? let wolves approach their shrines;
Their howlings are as powerfull as the Praiers
Of sad Pilumnus!—Such disgusts at last
Awaken'd Ceres: with hollow murmuring noise
Her Ompha like a thunder'gins to roare.
(The Ompha if it menace speakes at large
In copious language, but perplexed termes.)
And laid this curse on all Trinacria.
Sicilian swaines, ill luck shall long betide
To every bridegroome, and to every bride:
No sacrifice, no vow shall still mine Ire,
Till Claius blood both quench and kindle fire.
The wise shall misconceive me, and the wit
Scornd, and neglected shall my meaning hit.
Angry and Intricate! Alas for love!
What then became of Claius?
Why the Ompha,
[Page 20]Having denounc'd against him, and he knowing
The hate of old Pilumnus fled away,
I think hee's sayl'd to the Antipodes.
No tydings can be brought what ground receives him,
Vnlesse Corymbus make a happy voyage;
Corymbus that will search both East and Occident
And when he finds him spill his captive blood.
Which Ceres grant he may! Tender Laurinda
Now dost thou see the reason of my care,
And why my watchfull eyes so close observe
Thy steps and actions.
And I promise, father,
To temper my affections, 'till the Goddesse
Doe mitigate her anger.
Doe so then:
For now you see with what unfortunate choice
Pilumnus daughter, delicate Vrania loves
The mad Amyntas: for the angry Goddesse,
Though she repaid the wrong done to Philaebus,
Yet not approving the reuengefull mind
Of great Pilumnus, scourg'd him with his own asking,
By threatning an unhappy marriage
To his Vrania, unlesse he that wooes her
Pay an impossible Dowry; for as others
Give Portions with their daughters, Ceres Priests
Vse to receive for theirs. The words are these,
That which thou hast not, mayst not, canst not have
Amyntas, is the Dowry that I crave▪
Rest hopelesse in thy love, or else divine
To give Vrania this, and she is thine:
Which while the poore Amyntas would Interpret,
He lost his wits. Take heed of love, Laurinda,
You see th'unhappinesse of it in others;
Let not experience in thy selfe instruct thee.
Be wise my Girle: so come and follow me.
I'le make a Garland for my kid and follow you.
What a sad tale was here? how full of sorrow?
Happy that heart that never felt the shaft
Of angry Cupid!

SCEN. 6.

  • Damon
  • Alexis.
Damon and Alexis?
Their presence quickly puts these cogitations
Out of my mind: Poore soules, I fain would pity them,
And yet I cannot, for to pity one
Were not to pity t'other, and to pity
Both were to pity neither. Mine old Temper
Is all the shift I have; some dew of comfort
To either of them. How now bold intruders,
How dare you venter on my privacy?
If you must needs have this walk, be it so!
I'le seeke another: What? you'l let me goe?
Cruell Laurinda (if a word so foule
Can have so faire a dwelling.) seale not up
Thy eates, but let a pity enter there
And find a passage to thy heart.
(The name which but to speak I would not wish
[Page 22]For life or breath.) Let not thy powerfull beauty
Torment us longer: Tell us which of us
You value most.
And t'other, for old freindship
Strangling his bitter Corrasive in his heart,
Hath promis'd to desist from further suit.
Or if he cannot so, as sure he cannot,
Yet he will rather chuse to dye then live
Once to oppose your liking.
Since you are
Growne so importunate, and will not be answer'd
With modest silence; Know I wish you well.

How, me Laurinda?

Why I wish, Alexis,
I were thy wife.

Then most unhappy me!


That word doth relish immortalitie.


And I doe wish thou wer't my husband, Damon


Still more perplexed: what doe you think I am?


My head, Alexis.


And what I?


My heart.


Which hand am I?


Damon, my right.


Which I?


My left, Alexis.


Thus you scorne my love.


Not I, Alexis: th'art my only hope.


Then I am all despaire, no hope for me.

Why so my Damon? thou art my desire.
[Page 23] Alexis is my flame; Damon my fire.
Alexis doth deserve my nuptiall Bed,
And Damon's worthy of my Maidenhead!
Exit Lau.
Damon, desist thy suit or loose thy life;
Thou heard'st Laurinda wish she were my wife.
Thy wife, Alexis? But how can it be
Without a Husband? and I must be he.
I am her head: That word doth seeme t'impart
She meanes my marriage.
How without her heart?
For that am I: besides you heard her say
I was the right hand you the left, away,
Desist Alexis, mine's the upper hand.
But, Damon, I next to her heart doe stand:
I am her hope, in that you plainly see
The end of her intents doth aime at me.
But I am her desire, in that 'tis showne
Her only wish is to make me her owne.

I am her flame.


'Tis true, but I her fire.

The flames the hotter, therefore her desire
Most aimes at mee.
Yet when the flame is spent,
The fire continues; Therefore me she meant.

She promis'd now I should injoy her Bed.


Alexis doe, so I her Maidenhead.

I see she still conceales it, and with speeches
Perplext and doubfull masks her secret thoughts.
Let's have another meeting, since her words
[Page 24]Delude us thus, wee'le haue a pregnant signe
To shew her mind.
I goe that way a hunting,
And will call for her.
I'le the while retire
Into the Temple, if I linger here
I am afraid of meeting Amaryllis,
Who with unwelcome love solicites me.

And would she might preuaile!


Till then farewell.

All happinesse to Damon be
Except Laurinda.

All but her to thee.


Thus we in love and courtesie contend.


The name of Rivall should not loose the Freind.

Finis actus I.



  • Pilumnus
  • Vrania.
FAther perswade me not! The power of heaven
Can never force me from Amyntas love;
'Tis rooted here so deepe within my heart
That he which pulls it out, pulls out at once,
That and my soule together.
Fond Vrania,
Can ignorant love make thee affect the seede,
The hatefull seede of cursed Lalage?
Did I for this beget thee?
Father, you know
[Page 25]Divinitie is powerfull, Cupids will
Must not be question'd: When love meanes to sport
(I'have heard your selfe relate it) he can make
The Wolfe and Lambe kisse friendly; force the Lyon
T'forget his Majestie, and in amorous dalliance
Sport with the frisking Kid. When Venus rides,
Shee'le linke the ravenous Kite, and milder Swan
To the same chariot, and will yoak together
The necks of Doves and Eagles; when as shee
Commands, all things loose their Antipathie,
Even contrarieties: can I alone
Resist her will? I cannot, my Amynt as
Shall witnesse that!
I blame thee not so much
For loving him, while yet he was Amynt as.
But being mad and having lost himselfe,
Why shouldst not thou loose thy affection too▪
I love him now the rather; he hath lost
Himselfe for me, and should he loose me too?
It were a sinne he should!
What canst thou love
In his distemper'd wildnesse?
Only that,
His wildnesse; 'tis the comfort I have left
To make my teares keepe time to his distractions;
To think as wildl [...] as he talks; to marry
Our griefs together, since our selves we cannot.
The Oracle doth aske so strange a Dowry,
That now his company is the only blisse
My love can aime at: but I stay too long
[Page 26]I'le in to comfort him.

Doe not Vrania.

Doe not?
I must and will; Nature commands me no,
But Love more powerfull sayes it shall be so.
The Gods did well to make their Destinies
Of woemen, that their wills might stand for law
Fixt and unchang'd; who's this? Corymbus? he.

SCEN. 2.

  • Pilumnus.
  • Corymbus.


Sacred Pilumnus—hayle!
And fruitfull Sicilie I kisse thy dust—
What newes Corymbus? Is our Countrie's Mischeif
Fetter'd in chaines?
Thrice the sunne hath past
Through the twelve Inns of heaven, since my diligence
Has been imploy'd in quest of him, whose death
Must give poore lovers life, the hatefull Claius;
Yet could I ne're heare of him:—The meane while
How fare the poore Sicilians? Does awfull Ceres
Still bend her angry brow? Find the sad Lovers
No rest, no quiet yet?
Corymbus none!
The Goddesse has not yet deign'd to accept
One sacrifice, no favourable Echo
Resounded from her Omp [...]a; All her answers
Are full, and doubtfull.
[Page 27]
The true signe, Pilumnus,
Her wrath is not appeas'd.
Appeas'd say you?
Rather againe incens'd so farre, Corymbus,
As that my selfe am plagu'd; My poore Vrania
Dotes on Amyntas.
First shall our hives swarme in the venemous yew,
And Goats shall browze upon our myrtle wands!
—One of your blood, Pilumnus, (is it possible)
Love Lalage and Claius brood?
The chaine of fate
Will have it so! And he lov'd her as much.

That makes it something better.

Ah, thou knowest not
What sting this waspish fortune pricks me with!
I seeing their loves so constant, so inflexible,
Chid with dame Ceres if sheus'd me thus.
My words were inconsiderate, and the heavens
Punish'd my rough expostulations:
Being Archiflamen of Trinacria
I did demand a Dowry of that sheapheard
That askes my daughter:—Set the price said I,
Thou Goddesse, that dost cause such hatefull loves;
If that Amyntas be thy darling swaine,
Aske thou, and set a Dowry for Vrania:
With that the Altar groan'd, my haire grew stiffe,
Amyntas look'd agast; Vrania quiver'd,
And the Ompha answer'd

With an Echo;



[Page 28]

Then I presage some ill!

This darke demand,
That which thou hast not, maist not, canst not have,
Amyntas, is the dowry that I crave:
Rest hopelesse in thy love, or else divine
To give Vrania this and she is thine.
And so he did, but the perplexed sense
Troubled his braines so farre, he lost his wits;
Yet still he loves, and shee,—my griefe Corymbus
Will not permit me to relate rest!
I'le in into the Temple, and expresse
What's yet behinde in teares.
Sad sad Pilumnus!
And most distress'd Sicilians! Other nations
Are happy in their loves, you only are unfortunate!
In all my travelles ne'r a spring but had
Her paire of lovers, singing to that musique
The gentle bubling of her waters made.
Never a walke unstor'd with amorous couples,
Twind with so close imbraces, as if both
Me ant to growe one together! every shade
Sheltred some happy loves, that counting dazies
Scor'd up the summes on one another lips,
That met so oft and close, as if they had
Chang'd soules at every kisse. The married sort
As sweet and kind as they: at every evening
The loving husband and full▪ brested wife
Walk'd on the Downs so friendly, as if that
Had been their wedding day. The boies of five,
And girles of foure, e're that their lisping tongues
[Page 29]Had learn'd to prattle plaine, would prate of love,
Court one another, and in wanton dalliance
Returne such innocent kisses, you'd have thought
You had seene Tur les billing.

SCEN. 3.

  • Mopsus.
  • Corymbus.
What aire is that? The voice of—Turtles billing!
Of Turtles! a good Omen! shee is chast—
And billing, billing, o delicious billing!
That word presages kissing.—
Who is this?
Mopsus, my learned Augur?
Stand aside,
—The other side; I will not talke to thee
Vnlesse I have the winde.

Why, whats the matter Mopsus?


Th'art infected;


What with the Plague?

Worse then the Plague, the Wisdom!
You have been in travell, & that's dangerous
For getting Wisdome.
Then nere feare it, Mopsus,
For I come home a foole just as I went.

By Ceres?




By Ceres welcome then!

But Mopsus, why doe you walke here alone!
That's—dangerous too!
[Page 30]
I: but I come to meet
The Cittizens of the aire; you have heard my skill
In augury?
Why I have heard your name
Not mention'd any where in all my Travailes.

How? not mention'd?

—Yo'are to hasty Mopsus,
Not—without admiration.

I know that.


How should you know it?

Why some birds or other,
Fly from all countries hither, and they tell mee.

But how dare you converse with birds that travell?

With an antidote I may: but my Corymbus
What strange birds have you seene beyond seas?
Brave ones:
Ladies with fans and feathers! dainty Fowles!
There were brave taking Augury.
But, Corymbus,
Are those fine Lady-birds such pretty things?

As tame as sparrowes, and as sweet as Nightingals.

Is the Cocklady-bird, or the Henlady-bird
The better?

All are hens.

O admirable!
Would you had brought me one! but whats the Fan?

A fan's a—wing of one side.

And what's their Feather?
Like the copple-crowne
[Page 31]The Lap-wing has:

The Lap-wing? then they 'l—ly.


With men they will;

Delicious Lady-birds!
But have they such brave traines, such curious tailes
As our birds have?
Like Peacocks, there's the head
Of all their pride.
Nay 'tis the taile, Corymbus,
Surely these things you call the Lady-birds
Are the true birds of Paradice!
Enter Corymbus's carriages.
Very right—
Mopsus, I cannot stay, I must attend
My carriage to the Temple: gentle Mopsus
Farewell Corymbus! By my troth
I never long'd for any thing in my life
So much as Lady-birds; dainty Lady-birds!
I would fetch one of them; but I dare not travell
For fear I catch the wisdome. O sweet Lady-birds!
With copple crownes, and wings but on one side!
And tailes like Peacocks! curious Lady-birds!

SCEN. 4.

  • Amyntas.
  • Vrania.
  • Amaryllis.
  • manet Mopsus.
That which I have not, may not, cannot have!
It is the moone! Vrania, thou shalt weare
The horned Goddesse at thy beauteous eare.
[Page 32]—Come hither Pegasus, I will mount thy back,
And spurre thee to her orbe.

Oh good Amyntas!

—Why, art thou foundred Pegasus? Amaryllis,
Fetch him a peck of provender.

Sweet Amyntas!

What saies my Cytherea? wouldst thou eat
A golden Apple? if thou wilt, by Venus
I'le rob th' Hesperian Orchard.

Ha ha he!

Ha? dost thou laugh old Charon? firrah sculler,
Prepare thy boat!

For what? deere brother speake!

Art thou my sister Helen? were we hatchd
In the same egshell?—Is your cock-boat ready?

It is, an't please your Worship.

Very well!
Row me to hell!—no faster? I will have thee
Chain'd unto Pluto's gallies!
Why to hell,
My deere Amyntas?

Why? to borrow mony!


Borrow there?

I there! they say there be more Vsurers there
Then all the world besides:—see how the windes
Rise! Puffe—puffe Boreas.—what a cloud comes yonder?
Take heed of that wave Charon! ha? give mee
The oares!—so so: the boat is overthrown,
Now Charons drown'd: but I will swim to shore—
[Page 33]
O Ceres, now behold him! canthy eyes
Looke on so sad an object, and not melt
Them and thy heart to pitty?
How this greefe
Racks my tormented soule? but the neglect
Of Damon more afflicts mee: the whole Senate
Of heaven decrees my ruine.
And mine too.
Come Amaryllis let's weepe both together,
Contending in our sorrowes!
Would to Ceres
That I were dead!

And I had nere been borne!


Then had not I been wretched!

Then Amyntas
Might have been happy.
Nay if you begin
Once to talke wisely, 'Tis above high time,
That I were gone: farewell Bellerophon!
I must goe seek my Thestylis; shee's not here.
My armes are weary;—now I sinke I sinke!
Farewell Vrania.
Alas what strange distraction,
Tosse his distemperd braine!
Yet still his love to me
Lives constant.
Styx I thank thee! That curld wave
Hath tos'd mee on the shore.—come Sysiphus.
I'le rowle thy stone a while: mee thinkes this labour
Doth looke like Love! does it not so, Tysiphone?
[Page 34]

Mine is that restlesse toile.

I'st so, Erynnis?
You are an idle huswife, goe and spin
At poore Ixions wheele!


Am I known here?

Amyntas, deere Amyntas

Who calls Amyntas? beauteous Proserpine?
Tis shee.—Fair Empresse of th' Elysian shades,
Ceres bright daughter intercede for mee,
To thy incensed mother: prithee bid her
Leave talking riddles, wilt thou?
How shall I
Apply my selfe to his wild passions!
Seeme to be
What he conceives you.
Queene of darknesse,
Thousupreme Lady of eternall night,
Grant my petitions! wilt thou beg of Ceres
That I may have Vrania?
Tis my praier,
And shall be ever, I will promise thee
Shee shall have none but him.

Thankes Proserpine!

Come sweet Amyntas, rest thy troubled head
Here in my lap:—Now here I hold at once
My sorrow and my comfort: Nay ly still.

I will: but Proserpine


Nay, good Amyntas.

[Page 35]
Should Pluto chance to spy me, would not hee
Be jealous of me?


Tell not Vrania of it, least she feare
I am in love with Proserpine: doe not Fury!

I will not.


Pray ly still!

You Proserpine,
There is in Sicilie the fairest Virgin
That everblest the land, that ever breath'd,
Sweeter then Zephyrus! didst thou never heare
Of one Vrania?


This poore Vrania
Loves an unfortunate sheapheard, one that's mad, Tysiphone,
Canst thou believe it? Elegant Vrania
(I cannot speak it without teares) still loves
Amyntas, the distracted mad Amyntas.
I'st not a constant Nymph?—But I will goe
And carry all Elysium on my back,
And that shall be her joynture.
Good Amyntas,
Rest here a while!—

Why weepe you Proserpine?

Because Vrania weepes to see Amyntas
So restlesse and unquiet.
Does shee so?
Then will I ly as calme as doth the sea,
[Page 36]When all the winds are lock'd in Aeolus jayle:
I will not move a haire, not let a nerve
Or Pulse to beat, least I disturbe her! Hush,—
Shee sleepes!

And so doe you.

You talk too loud,
You'l waken my Vrania:
If Amyntas,
Her deere Amyntas would but take his rest,
Vrania could not want it.

Not so loud!


What a sad paire are wee?

How miserable?
Hee that I love is not!—
And he that I
Doe love, loves not; or, if he love, not mee.

I have undone Amyntas!

And my Damon
Has undone me.

My kindnesse ruin'd him.


But his unkindnesse, me; unhappy me!

More wretched I, for Damon has his reason,
And he may love.
But does not: thy Amyntas
Returnes thee mutuall love.
True, Amaryllis,
But he has lost his reason; mine has love,
No reason.
Mine has reason, but no love.
O mee!
[Page 37]
My Amaryllis, how thy griefes
Meete full with mine to make the truest story
Of perfect sorrow that ere eye bedew'd
With teares of Pitty!
Come Vrania:
Let's sit together like two marble monuments
Of ever weeping misery—
Enter Damon.
Minds in love,
Doe count their daies by minutes, measure howres
By every sand that drops through the slow glasse;
And for each vie a teare.
If so, my Damon,
How many times hath thy unkindnesse ruin'd
Sad Amaryllis? every frowne is mortall.

Ill luck, to seeke my love and finde my hate!

Be not so cruell to mee! Gentle Damon,
—Accept this witnesse of my love, it is
The story of poore Ech [...], tha [...] for love
Of her Narcissus pin'd into a voice.

Doe thou so too!

Damon, suppose I should,
And then the Gods for thy contempt of mee
Should plague thee like Narcissus.
They cannot doe it: I have fixt my love
So firme on my Laurinda, that for her
I e're shall hate my selfe?
—. Prithee love accept it,
'Twas wrought by mine own hand
[Page 38]

For that I hate it!

Fy Brother, can you be of the same stock,
Issue, and bloud with mee, and yet so cruell?
Nor can I, sister, dote like you on any
That is the cursed brat of Lalage.

Saist thou so Centaure?

Good Amyntas hold,
This is the Sacred Vally: here 'tis death,
For to shed human blood.
Still idly you complaine
To crosse mee, Amaryllis, but in vaine!

O, I am sick to death!

What a brave show
The monsters braines would make?

SCEN. 5.

  • Thestylis.
  • Mopsus.
  • Amyntas.
  • Amaryllis.
  • Vrania.

My griefe o're weighs me!


How fares my Amaryllis?

Like a Taper
Allmost burnt out: sometimes all a darknesse,
And now and then a flash or two of comfort,
But soone blown out againe. Ah Thestylis,
I cannot long subsist. For thee vain's labour;
Away! I hate thee cause my Damon does,
And for that reason too I hate my selfe,
And every thing but him!
Come my sad partner,
[Page 39]Poore rivall of my sorrowes: Goe with mee
Into the Temple; I'le intreat my Brother
To use thee kindly: if in mee it lye,
I'le helpe thee.

Doe Vrania, or I dye.

Exeunt Vrania, Amaryl.
  • Amyntas.
  • Thestylis.
  • Mopsus.

What a strange thing is Love!

It is a madnesse:
See how it stares?—Have at thee thou blind Archer!
—O I have mist him!—now I'le stand thee Cupid!
Looke how the rascall winkes a one eye, Thestylis!
Nay draw your arrow home boy! just i'th heart!
—O I am slaine!


Dost not see?
My blood runs round about mee, I lye soaking
In a red Sea, take heed! see Thestylis,
Whata fine Crimson 'tis?


Here you puppet!
Dost thou not see it?
Yes I see it playne,
But I spy nothing.

Then thou art a mole.

Now I looke better on't, I see it plaine;
Does it not not hurt you?
Strangely! Have at thee—
How think you now?

Be quiet good Amyntas.

You'l fright away the birds else, and clean spoile
My augury.
[Page 40]

Goe about it, I am quiet!


Now for some happy Omen!

a Cuckoe Cries.

Ha, ha, he!


Why laughs the madman?

Who can choose but laugh?
The bird cried Hornes!
What happinesse portends it,
Sweet Mopsus?
Constancy in Love, my Thestylis,
This bird is alwaies in a note.

Most excellent.


Bird of the spring I thank thee! Mopsus thanks thee.

This is a man of skill, an Oedipus,
Apollo, Reverent Phoebus, Don of Delphos.

What a brave man am I?

Thou canst resolve
By thy great Art all questions: What is that,
That which I have not, may not, cannot have?
That which you have not, may not, cannot have?
It is my skill, you cannot have my skill.

Where lies that skill?


Lies? here within this noddle.

Fetch me my wood-knife I will cut it off,
And send it to Vrania for a dowry.

No, no I am deceiv'd, it is not that.


You dolt, you asse, you cuckoe:


Good Amyntas.

SCEN. 6.


Mopsus. Iocastus. Thestylis. Amyntas.

Ist not a brave sight Dorylas? can the mortalls
Caper so nimbly!

Verily they cannot!

Does not King Oberon beare a stately presence?
Mab is a beauteous Empresse.
Yet you kiss'd her
With admirable courtship.
I doe think
There will be of Iocastus brood in Fairy.
You Cuckold-maker, I will tell King Oberon
You lye with Mab his wife!
Doe not good brother,
And I'le wooe Thestylis for thee.

Doe so then.


Canst thou love Mopsus, mortall?

Why suppose
I can sir, what of that?
Why then be wise,
And love him quickly!
Wise? then I'le have none of her, that's the way
To get wise children, 'troth and I had rather
They should be bastards.
No, the children may
Be like the Father.
True distracted Mortall:
Thestylis, I say love him hee's a foole.
[Page 42]

But we will make him rich, then 'tis no matter.


But what estate shall he assure upon mee?


A Royall joynture all in Fairy land.


Such will I make Vrania!

Dorylas knowes it,
A curious Parke.

Pal'd round about with Pick-teeth.

Besides a house made all of mother of Pearle;
An Ivory Teniscourt.

A nutmeg Parlour.


A Saphyre dary-roome.


A Ginger hall.


Chambers of Agate.


Kitchins all of Christall.


O admirable! This is it for certaine!


The jacks are gold.


The spits are Spanish needles.


Then there be walkes


Of Amber.


Curious orchards.


That bear as well in winter as in summer.


Bove all the fishponds! every pond is full,

Of Nectar: will this please you? every grove
Stor'd with delighfull birds.
But be there any
Lady-birds there.


And Cuckoes too
To presage constancy?


[Page 43]
Nay then lets in
To seale the writings.

There boy, so, ho, ho.

What pretty things are these both to be borne
To Lands and Livings, we poore witty knaves,
Have no inheritance but Braines:—who's this?
Enter Alexis.

—One of my Mistresse beagles.

I have had the bravest sport.

In what, Alexis?

In hunting, Dorylas: a brace of Grayhounds cours'd a stag
With equall swiftnesse till the wearied deere,
Stood bay at both alike: the fearfull doggs
Durst neither fasten.
So, and did not you
Compare the stag to my fair mistresse? ha!
Pursued by you and Damon, caught by neither?

By Cupid th'art i'th right.

Alas poore whelpes,
In troth I pitty you! Why such a hunting
Have we had here: Two puppies of a litter,
Mopsus and wise Iocastus hunting folly
With a full mouth.
I much wonder, Dorylas,
Amyntas can be sad, having such follies
To provoke mirth.
And to that end his sister
Keepes them about him; but in vaine, his Melancholy
[Page 44]Has took so deepe impression.
Enter Damon.
My Alexis
Well met, I'ave been at your cottage to seeke you.
But I am ne're at home; Thou and I, Damon,
Are absent from our selves.
Excellent application!
To see the wit of love!
Let us goe seeke her,
To have a finall judgement.
That may end
One of our miseries, and the others life!

O lamentable! who would be in love?



SCEN. 7.

  • Laurinda.
  • Dorylas.
  • Alexis.
  • Damon.

Here comes my joy or death.


O pittifull!


My sweet affliction.

Pittifully sweet!
Nere feare your father, Mistresse, kisse securely,
I'le be your Mercury, and charme a sleepe
Old Argus.


But if he chance to spy
You and your sweet-hearts here, I know not of it.

You doe not!

Nay you know if I had seene them,
[Page 45]I should have told him.

Y'are a trusty servant.

Poore Dorylas is blind, he sees not here
Damon, no nor Alexis.

No not hee!

Alack I am innocent: if the belly swell
I did not fetch the poyson.

No, begone.

Exit Dorylas.
Laurinda now for mercy sake give period
To our long miseries.
Now you are like cruell
To both, and play the tyrant equally,
On him you hate as much as him you love.

Depriving one the comfort of his joy.


The other the sure remedy of his death!

Damon you have a Love, fair Amaryllis,
Content your selfe with her.
I'le rather kisse
An Ethiops crisped lip: imbrace a Viper!
Deformity it selfe to her is fair.

Damon thou hast thy answer.

And Alexis,
There be in Sicilie many Virgins more
Worthy your choice: why did you plac't on mee?
Goe seeke some other.
O those words to me
Are Poyson.

But to me an Antidote.


Thus she gave life to me to tak't away:


And me she slew to raise me up againe:

You shall not slight us thus, what doe you thinke
Of mee?

Thou art the glory of the woods.


And what am I?


The pride of all the Plaines.

These your ambiguous termes have now too oft
Deluded us.
Shew by some signe which of us
You have design'd for happinesse.

So I will.

Shee takes Damon's Garland and weares it on her own head: and puts her own on Alexis.
Damon, as I affect thee, so I vow
To wear this Garland that adornes thy brow.
This wreath of flowres, Alexis, which was mine
Because thou lov'st me truly, shall be thine.
This is plain dealing; let not Cupid's warres
Drive your affections to uncivill jarres!


Now happy Damon shee thy Garland weares
That holds thy heart chain'd in her golden haires!
Most blessed I! this Garland once did twine
About her head that now imbraces mine.
Desist Alexis, for shee deignes to have
The Garland that was mine.
But me she gave
That which was hers.

Tis more to take then give.


I think 'tis greater kindnesse to receive.


By this your share's the lesse, you but receive.

And by your argument, yours you did but give▪
[Page 47]Love is the Garland.
Then shee did approve
Of my affection best, shee took my love.
Fond Damon, she accepted love frō thee,
But what is more, she gave her love to mee;
In giving that to mee, she proves my right.

Why took she mine, but meaning to requite?


I will dispute no more.

Then let our speares
Plead for us,
And determine of our feares.
Come Damon, by this argument let us prove,
Which tis of us Laurinda best doth love.

Yet tis, Alexis, clean against our oath.


True, Damon, and perchance may ruine both▪


So neither shall enjoy her.

Cruell breath!
Besides this is the Sacred Vale, tis death
To staine the hallowed grasse but with one drop
Of humane blood.

So both should loose their hope!


And which is more, 'tis against her commands.


Whose every breath has powre to stay our hands.


Wee'l have her answer make a certain end.


Till then, Alexis, let me be thy friend.


Come Damon, lets together seeke reliefe.


Tis fit, being Rivalls both in love and griefe.

Finis Actus secundi.



  • Damon.
  • Alexis.
  • Laurinda.
LAurinda, by thy selfe, the sweetest oath
That can be sworn,
By those faire eyes, whose light
Comfort my soule;

Whose heat inflameth mine;


Vnlesse you deigne at length to end our strife,


We both have vow'd to sacrifice our life,


On one anothers speare.

What shall I doe?
I find an equall warre within my soule,
My selfe divided; now I would say Damon,
Another time Alexis, then againe
Damon, and then Alexis: like a sheapheard
That sees on either hand a ravenous wolfe,
One snatching from his ewe a tender Lamb,
The other watching for a gentle Kid,
Knowes not poore soule which hand to turne to first.
Now he would save his Lamb; but seeing his Kid
Halfe in the jaw of death, turnes back in hast
To reseue that, where viewing then his Lamb
In greater danger, runs to that again;
As doubtfull which to save as which to loose:
So fares it now with me. But love instruct mee!



Or wee'l resolve.


No trick left yet?

Enter Dorylas.

If ever one was pepper'd looke on mee!


Why whats the matter?

You talke of Love and Cupid,
I have been plagu'd with a whole swarme of Cupids.

what should this meane?

I know not, but I am sure
I have a thousand naturall rapiers
Stick in my flesh!

The meaning of the riddle?


The morall?

In plain tearmes I have been driving
One of your swarmes of Bees, gentle Laurinda;
The purest waxe give Damon: and, good swaine,
The hony to Alexis: This is plain.

Now will the hony and the wax fall together by th'eares.

Alexis, this plain signe confirmes her grant,
She gave me waxe to seale the covenant.

Well argu'd for the waxe, now for the hony.

To me she gave the hony, that must be
The sweetest, and the sweetest sweet is shee.

The hony is the sweeter argument.

But by the waxe she saies that she from none
But mee will take true loves impression.
The waxe is very forward to the bargain;
He would be sealing of her.
But plain the hony speakes, no other guest
But I, shall tast in her a lovers feast.

Delicious reason, my mouth waters at it▪

[Page 50]
The waxe must make the Taper that must light
The wedded paire to bed on Hymen's night:
Besides 'tis virgins waxe, by that you see
To me she destinies her virginity.

Two excellent twin-arguments borne at a birth.

And hony shewes a wedding; that must knead
A cake for Hymen ere we goe to bed.
Take you the waxe; the hony is for mee,
There is no hony in the world but shee.

His disputation still has some good relish in't.

I see, Alexis, all Laurinda's bees
Serve but to sting us both.
Now, what's the matter?
The morall?
See what 'tis to live a maid!
Now two at once doe serve us and adore,
Shee that weds one, serves him, serv'd her before.

Alexis come!


Come Damon!


Cure my feare.


There's no helpe left but in a Pelian speare!


O stay your hands, for by my maidenhead;—


Happy the man shall quit her of that oath.


Most happy Dorylas!


I knew that before!

I have protested never to disclose
Which 'tis that best I love: But the first Nymph,
As soone as Titan guilds the Easterne hills,
And chirping birds, the Saints-bell of the day,
Ring in our eares a warning to devotion.
[Page 51]That lucky damsell what so e're she be
Shall be the Goddesse to appoint my love,
To say, Laurinda this shall be your choice:
And both shall sweare to stand to her award!

By fair Laurinda's hand we swear.

Till then
Be friends, and for this night it is my pleasure
You sleep like friendly Rivalls arme in arme.

Thankes to the fair Laurinda!


Come Damon, you this night with me shall rest.


Wert thou but my Laurinda I were blest.

Exeunt Damon. Alexis.

Mistresse, if they should dreame now.—


And they should?

SCEN. 2.

  • Amaryllis.
  • Vrania.
  • Doryllis.
  • Laurinda.

Sweet Amaryllis!


Stay me not Vrania!


More Cupids, more bees, more stinging yet!

Dishevel'd haire, poore ornament of the head
I'le teare you from my crowne! what dost thou here?
Weake chaines! my pride presum'd you had a powre
To fetter Heroes! and in amorous Gives
Lead any sheapheard captive!


But Damon breakes thee like a spiders loome!
And thou poore face that wer't so oft beli'de
For fair and beauteous, by my flattering glasse;
[Page 52]I'le teare those crimson roses from my cheekes,
That but my selfe nere yet inchanted any.
My will is fixt!

Where goe you, Amaryllis?

Since Damon hates my life I'le goe and see
If I can please him in my death: if hee'le but deigne
To kisse me, and accept my latest breath,
I shall salute the Gods a happy soule.
—This dart I'le give him; and upon my knees▪
Beg till I have obtain'd to dye by him:
Death from that hand is welcome.
I will shew you
A way most probable to redeeme his love.
I shall wrong you, Laurinda! No injoy him,
The treasure of the Earth: my latest words
Shall be praiers for you: mild Vrania,
Sister in blood to Damon, not in affection,
Nymph take this whistle, 'twas a Tritons once,
With which I call my Lamb-kins when they stray;
'Tis Amaryllis last bequeathment to you.

Live happy sheapheardesse and weare it still!

Laurinda, my great legacy is yours,
Gentle-ungentle Damon.
I re▪bequeath him to my Amarylis:
Come therefore amorous maid, be rul'd by mee;
This night wee'le sleepe together.
And shee too
Should dreame of Damon.
Dorylas, goe to Thestylis
[...] ▪excuse her this nights absence, Amaryllis
[Page 53]Wenches are nere so witty as a bed,
And two together make a statesmans head.
—Begon to Thestylis.
So, I am sure
Still Cupids factor: well ere long I see
There will be many an heire the more for mee.
My Bellamore y'are under good protection;
The Temple gates will close unlesse I hast.

Vrania, a happy night unto you!


The like to her that ipitties the distressed Ama­ryllis.

Exeunt Lau. Ama. Vrania.
So so, this hony with the very thought
Has made my mouth so lickorish that I must
Have something to appease the appetite.
Have at Iocastus orchard! dainty Apples,
How lovely they looke! Why these are Dorylas sweet-hearts.
Now must I be the Princely Oberon,
And in a royall humour with the rest
Of royall Fairies attendant goe in state
To rob an orchard: I have hid my robes
On purpose in a hollow tree. Heaven blesse mee!
What Pucke, what Goblins this?
  • Claius.
  • Dorylas.
Thrice Sacred Valley,
I kisse thy hallowed Earth!
Another lover,
Enamour'd of the Ground!
Faine would I speake
And aske for Amaryllis: but my feare
[Page 54]Will not permit mee.
Slid; I thinke he takes mee
For Oberon already.
Youth, can you tell mee
How I may speak to night with Amaryllis?
Age, by no meanes to night: this night shee lodges
With fair Laurinda, old Medorus daughter.

Can you instruct me then how I may meet Amyntas?

Who, the madman? Every evening
He walkes abroad into the vallie here
With Thestylis. Farewell old walking Ivibush.
Exit Dor.
Claius solus.
I see the smoake steame from the Cottage tops,
The fearfull hus wife rakes the embers up.
All hush to bed. Sure no man will disturbe mee.
O blessed vally! I the wretched Claius
Salute thy happy soyle, I that have liv'd
Pelted with angry curses in a place
As horrid as my griefes, the Lylibaean mountaines,
These sixteene frozen winters, there have I
Beene with rude out-lawes, living by such sinnes
As runne o'th' score with justice 'gainst my prayers & wishes.
And when I would have tumbled down a rock,
Some secret powre restrain'd me: There I lately heard
By a disconsolate Pilgrim that sought death,
That my Amyntas wits (ah me!) were marr'd.
[Page 55]Twas not a time to thinke to save my selfe
When my poore boy was lost. Lost said I?—O Phoebus,
If there be soveraigne power in juice of hearbs,
And that the teeming earth yeeld medicinall flowres
To cure all maladies, I have sought the skill;
No leafe no root hath scap'd mee: I may boast it,
I have been natures diligent Apothecary.
Be lucky my emplaister! I have temper'd
The surest Recipe the worlds garden yeelds;
'Twould put Orestes in his wits again.
I know I step upon my death: the Oracle
Desires my blood for sacrifice, and Pilumnus
For his old hate still seekes it: make long stay
I dare not, only I desire t'apply
My medicine and be gone. Who's this I spy?

SCEN. 3.

  • Thestylis.
  • Amyntas.
  • Mopsus.
—I doe remember now that countenance;
It is my sister Thestylis, I'le stand close
T'observe their actions.
Would to Ceres
She would be pleas'd at length to end her anger,
And pitty poore Amyntas!

So pray I.

I have the bravest spaniell in the world,
Of a sharpe sent and quick. so ho ho, so ho ho!
Ringwood, Iowler, Whitefoot, so ho ho! so ho ho!

I shall be a whole kennell of dogs anon.

[Page 56]

Iuno, Vulcan, Venus! so ho ho, so ho ho!


Lord what a heavenly puppy he makes me now!


There Lady there!


Ha? be their Lady-dogs as well as Lady-birds too!


Beauty, Beauty.

Slid I was never cal'd that name before:
Thestylis, Amyntas calls me Beauty,
I prethee come kisse mee.
Thus I spend my life
Laughing amidst my teares.

Now Vertue Vertue!

Is that a dogs name too? would I were hang'd
If I'le have any of it for that trick.
Dost thou not sent it yet? Close, close you rogue!
By Pan the curre hunts counter.

Oh good master! Bow wow, bow wow wow—

So now he has't again.
What at a fault you mungrell? will you never
Start me this Oracle?
Start an Oracle?
As if an Oracle were a hare?
So 'tis,
And skuds away so swift we cannot take it.
Start me this Oracle.
Start it who's will for mee,
For I'le not start it.

Then unkennell it.


Vnkennell it?

I, tis a Foxe a Foxe,
A cunning crafty rogue: no body knowes
[Page 57]Which way to finde him. ha? what sent is this?
Dost thou not smell?


The meaning of the Oracle?
Vnkennell it, or I will lease thee.
Good sir,
I have no skill in starting or unkennelling,
But if you'l have me spring an Oracle.—

And wilt thou doe it? spring me then this Oracle!

I that I will, my skill lies all in birds,
Whose flight I feare I have observ'd so long
That I am metamorphos'd to a spaniell.
Looke how my hawke of understanding soares
About the Partridge Oracle!—ill luck!
Tis at retreat againe.
O shall I never
Rid me of this misfortune! (thankes good omen)
Cras, cras she saies, tomorrow 'twill be better.
Black bird I thank thee!
A Crow cawes.
Claius to them.
Litle thinks the wretched Claius now
How sad a life his poore Amyntas lives!
Too well unto his griefe.—I'le goe unto him
And follow him in his humor:—You have got
A dainty spanniell, sir.
I think the world
Cannot afford his equall.

What breed is hee?


True Spartan I'le assure you.

Was the sire
[Page 58]Of the same Country?
No, as I remember
He was an Irish Grey-hound, but the damme
Came of Acteons brood.

As how I pray?

Why thus; Melampus was the sire of Laelaps,
Laelaps to Lagon, Lagon to Ichnobates,
Ichnobates to Pamphagus, and Pamphagus
To Dorceus, he to Labros, that was sire
To Oresitrophus, Oresitrophus
To fleet Theridamas, Theridamas
To swift Nebrophonos, Nebrophonos
To the quick-nos'd Aellus; he to Dromas,
Dromas to Tygris, Tygris to Orybasus,
Orybasus to Pterelas, he to Nape,
The damme of Mopsus.
So then Orybasus
Was my great grandfather. Though I be a Dog,
I come of a good house. My Ancestors
Were all of Noble names past understanding▪
What a brave man's my Master! where learn'd he
All this? Ne're stirre now I could find in my heart
To leave my Augury and study Heraldry;
A man I think may learn't as well as t'other,
Yet never fear of growing too wise upon't.
And then will I record the pedegree
Of all the dogs i'th' world. O that I had
The Armes of all our house byth' Mothers side!
Sir I have brave things in a Basket for you.
Give me your Dog, and you shall have 'em all.
[Page 59]

Take him.

O heavens! and shall I change my master,
One mad man for another?
Curre be quiet,
I have said it, and my will shall be a law.
O good sir, for Melampus sake, and Dorceus
Laelaps, Ichnobates, Lagon, Melanchetes,
Labros, Nebrophonos, Oresitrophus,
Tygris, Orybatus, Therydamas,
Aellus, Dromes, Nape, and the rest
Of all my Noble ancestors deceas'd,
Be mercifull unto me! Pitty pitty
The only hope of all our family.

Sir, can he fetch and carry?

You shall see him.
Fetch sirrah:—there:—the curre is runne away,
Helpe me to catch my dog: you'l bring you mungrell?

Yes much! the birds will not advise me to it.

Sylvan why gaze you on us? would you frolike
With poore Amynta's madnes; 'twould ill beseem you
To make our griefe your pastime.
Not I by heaven!
My joyes are counterfeit, my sorrowes reall:
(I cannot hold from weeping) ah you know not
What griefe lies here within, (teares you'l betray me!)
Give me my eye full of this noble sheapheard!
Who hath not heard how he hath chac'd the boare!
And how his speare hath torne the panch of wolves.
On th' barke of every tree his name's ing [...]aven.
[Page 60]Now Planet struck, and all that vertue vanish'd.

Thy lookes are fierce, thy words bespeak thee Gentle.


Why wep't he Thestylis!


I did not marke him.

It was a mote in's eye: I'le kisse it out;
I'le curle thy shackl'd locks, and crispe thy haire
Like the streight-growing Cypresse. Come let's put
Our heads together. Thou art more then mortall,
And shal't expound to Ceres what she askes.
It is a gallant Sylvan, Thestylis.
I am not skill'd in riddles, no interpreter
Of Divinations, but dare contend
With any Empyrick to doe a cure,
Whether the body or the minde be sick.
That is my study, I but crave the leave
To try the powre of art upon this sheapheard.
If Aesculapius be propitious to him,
After the dew of one nights softer slumbers,
I dare be bold to say he shall recover.
My dog againe? dost read it in the starres?
What a strange man is this?
Thy wits, Amyntas,
I meane; O cast thy armes in my embraces,
Speak carefull Nymph how came he thus distracted?
I doe you meane? with a very-very-very mad▪ trick▪—
By making verses.

Rest rest deluded fancy!

There was a time (alas that ere it was.)
[Page 61]When my poore sheapheard fell in love.

With whom?


The starre of beauty, Pilumnu's much admir'd Vrania.


O the crosse darts of fate!

Shee sweet Nymph inlodged
The casket of his love in her own bosome,
But Ceres set a Dowry▪ Out alasse!
Would shee had ask'd our flocks, our kids, our groves!
Would she had bid us quench the flames of Aetna
In Arethusa's streames, it had been easy.
We fight with words and cannot conquer them;
This her Imperious Ompha ask'd, and Thunder'd
That which thou hast not, maist not, canst not have
Amyntas, is the Dowry that I crave.
To finde out her commands, he lost himselfe.
Your storie's pittifull: Tis my profession
To wander through the Earth, and in my Travell,
I am inquisitive after the sick to heale 'em;
Their cure and kind acceptance is my pay.
You will not fear to lodge me for a night?

We have but homely hospitality.


Ile feast thee with some Venison, brave Montano.

Thy restitution is my feast Amyntas;
Your curdes and chestnuts and your country fare
Is bounteous for so meane a guest as I:
But send for that Vrania her sweet voice
Must sing a Lullaby to drowne his senses,
And charme soft sleepe upon his troubled phancy.
And 'fore the gray-eyd morne doe peepe, be confident
[Page 62]I'le put the musique of his braines in tune.

You'l call Vrania.

Doubt not sir, I will.
Or send my servant Mycon by the Vale.
Come Sylvan, if the dogs doe barke I'le braine 'em;
Wee'l sleepe to night together, and to morrow,

Will end I hope thy madnesse, not my sorrow.


Wee'l goe a hunting, so ho ho! so ho ho!

Mopsus from the Orchard.
Are the mad dogs gone yet?
A little more would have perswaded mee
Into a spaniell: and I may be one
For any thing I know: yet sure I am not
Because methinkes I speake; but an this speaking
Should be but barking now: If I be a dog
Heaven send me a better Master then the former.
Ceres defend me, what strange Elves are there!

SCEN. 4.

Dorylas with a Bevy of Fairies.
How like you now my Grace? is not my coun­tenance
Royall and full of Majesty? Walke not I
Like the young Prince of Pigmies? Ha? my knaves,
Wee'l fill our pockets. Looke looke yonder, Elves,
Would not you apples tempt a better conscience
Then any we have to rob an Orchard? ha!
Fairies, like Nymphs with child, must have the things
[Page 63]They long for. You sing here a Fairy catch
In that strange tongue I taught you: while our selfe
Doe clime the Trees. Thus Princely Oberon
Ascends his throne of State.
Nos beata Fauni Proles,
Quibus non est magnamoles,
Quamvis Lunam incolamus,
Hortos saepe frequentamus.
Furto cuncta magis bella,
Furto dulctor Puella.
Furto omnia decora.
Fur to poma dulciora.
Cum mortales lecto jacent,
Nobis poma noctu placent,
Illa tamen sunt ingrata,
Nisi furto sint parata.
  • Iocastus.
  • Bromius.
What divine noyse fraught with immortall harmony
Salutes mine eare?
Why this immortall Harmony
Rather salutes your Orchard: these young Rascalls,
These pescod▪shalers doe so cheat my Master:
We cannot have an apple in the Orchard,
But straight some Fairy longs for't: well if I
Might have my will, a whip again should jerk h'em,
[Page 64]Into their old mortality:
Dar'st thou schreetch-owle
With thy rude croaking interrupt their musique;
Whose melody hath made the spheares to lay
Their heavenly lutes aside, only to listen
To their more charming notes?
Say what you will,
I say a cudgell now were excellent Musique.
Oberon descende citus,
Ne cogaris hinc invitus.
Canes audio latrantes,
Et mortales vigilantes.

Prince Oberon? I heard his Graces name.

O ho: I spy his Grace! Most noble Prince
Come downe, or I will pelt your Grace with stones,
That I believe your Grace was ne're so pelted
Since 'twas a Grace.

Bold mortall, hold thy hand.

Immortall Thiefe come down, or I will fetch you:
Methinks it should impaire his Graces honour
To steale poore mortals apples: Now have at you!
Iocastus, we are Oberon, and we thought
That one so neere to us as you in favour,
Would not have suffer'd this prophane rude groome
Thus to impaire our royaltie.
Gracious Prince,
The fellow is a foole, and not yet purged
From his mortalitie.
[Page 65]
Did we out of love
And our intire affection, of all Orchards
Chuse your's to make it happy by our dances,
Light ayry measures, and fantastique rings!
And you ingratefull mortall thus requites us.
All for one Apple!
Villaine th'hast undone me:
His Grace is much incens'd.
You know, Iocastus,
Our Grace have Orchards of our owne more precious
Then mortals can have any: And we sent you
A Present of them t'other day.
'Tis right,
Your Graces humble servant must acknowledge it.

Some of his owne I am sure.

I must confesse
Their outside look'd something like yours indeed;
But then the tast more relish'd of eternitie,
The same with Nectar.
Your good Grace is welcome
To any thing I have: Nay, Gentlemen
Pray doe not you spare neither:



What say these mighty peeres, great Oberon?

They cannot speake this language, but in ours
They thank you, and they say they will have none,

Ti-ti-ta-t [...]-Tititatie


What say they now?

They doe request you now
To grant them leave to dance a Fayry ring
[Page 66]About your servant, and for his offence
Pinch him: doe you the while command the traitour
Not dareto stirre, not once presume to mutter.
Traytour, for so Prince Oberon deignes to call thee,
Stirre not, nor mutter.

To be thus abus'd!


Ha? mutter'st thou?


I have deserved better.


Still mutter'st thou?


I see I must endure it.

Yet mutter'st thou? Now Noble Lords begi [...]
When it shall please your honours.
Ti ti tatie.
Our noble freind permits, Tititatie:
Doe you not sir?

How should I say I doe?


Ti ti ta tie.


Ti ti ta tie my Noble Lords.

Quoniam per te violamur
Vngues hic experiamur.
Statim dices tibi datam
Cutem valdè variatam.
They dance.

Tititatie to your Lordships for this excellent musick


This 'tis to have a coxcombe to on's master.


Still mutter'st thou?

Exit Bromius.
Dorylas from the tree: Iocastus falls on his knees.
[Page 67]
And rise up Sir Iocastus, our deare Knight.
Now hang the hallowed bell about his neck,
We call it a mellisonant Tingle Tangle,
(Indeed a sheep-bell stolne from's own fat wether.)
The ensigne of his knighthood. Sir Iocastus,
Wee call to mind we promis'd you long since
The President of our Dances place; we are now
Pleas'd to confirme it on you: give him there
His Staffe of Dignity.
Your Grace is pleas'd
To honour your poore leigeman.

Now begone.

Farewell unto your Grace and eke to you,
Tititatie my Noble Lords farewell.
Tititatie my noble foole farewell:
Now, my Nobility and honourd Lords,
Our grace is pleas'd for to part stakes; here Iocalo
These are your share; these his, and these our Graces.
Have we not gull'd him bravely! see you Rascalls,
These are the fruits of witty knavery.
Mopsus enters barking.
Heaven shield Prince Oberon, and his honour'd Lords!
We are betraid.
Bow wow wow.
Nay nay since you have made a sheepe of my Brother
I'le be a dog to keepe him.

O good Mopsus!


Does not your Grace, most lowe and mighty Dorylas,

Feare whipping now?
Good Mopsus but conceale us,
And I will promise by to morrow night
To get thee Thestylis.
I will aske leave
Of the birds first. An owle? the bird of night; An owle
That plainly shewes that by to morrow night, shreekes.
He may performe his promise.

And I will.

Why then I will conceale you. But your Grace
Must thinke your Grace beholding to mee.
We do [...].
And thanke the owle, she stood your friend.
And for this time my witty Grace farewell.
Nay be not so discourteous; Stay and take
An apple first: you Iocalo give him one,
And you another, and our Grace a third.
Your Grace is liberall: But now I feare
I am not hee that must interpret th' Oracle.
My brother will prevent me, to my griefe
I much suspect it, for this Dorylas
A scarre-crow cozend him most shamefully,
Which makes me feare hee's a more foole then I.
Exit Mopsus.
So, we are clean got off: come noble Peeres
Of Fairy, come, attend our Royall Grace.
Let's goe and share our fruit with our Queen Mab,
And th'other Dary maids: where of this theam
We will discourse amidst our Cakes and Cream.
[Page 69]
Cum tot poma habeamus,
Triumphos laeti iam canamus.
Faunos ego credam ortos
Tantum ut frequentent hortos.
I domum Oberon ad illas
Quae nos manent nunc ancillas.
Quarum osculemur sinum,
Inter poma, lac, & vinum.
Finis Actus tertii.



  • Mopsus,
  • The stilis.
I would have you to know The stilis, so I would,
I am no dog, but mortall flesh and blood
As you are.

O be patient gentle Mopsus.


Slid, fetch and carry!

Nay good sweet heart
Be not so angry.
Angry? why 'twould anger
A dog indeed to be so us'd, a dog!
I would not use a dog so: bid a dog
That comes of a good house to fetch and carry!
Discourteous! [...]et him get dogs of his own,
For I have got my neck out of the collar.
Let him unkennell's Oracles himselfe
For Mopsus, if I starte or spring him one
[Page 70]I'le dye the dogs death, and be hang'd: mad foole!
But Mopsus, you may now securely visit
Mee and my house: Amyntas, heaven be prais'd,
Is now recover'd of his wits again.

How? and grown wise!


Ceres be prais'd as ever.

Shut up your doores then; Carduus Benedictus
Or Dragon water may doe good upon him.

What mean you Mopsus?

Mean I? what mean you
To invite me to your house when 'tis infected?


I, Amyntas has the Wits.
And doe you think I'le keepe him company?
Though, as I told you still, I am suspitious
Iocastus is the man that must—

Doe what?


It grieves me to think of it.


Out with't man.

That must interpret; I have cause to think
(With sorrow be it spoken) he will prove
The verier foole, but let him; yet now my Aug [...]ry
That never failes me, tells mee certainly
That I shall have thee, Thestylis, yet ere night;
It was an owle—

SCEN. 2.

  • Claius.
  • Amyntas.
—And—see see, Thestylis,
[Page 71]Here comes the Ivy bush. I'le stand aside,
For I am still most bodily afraid.
What Deity lives here? the soule of Phoebus
Breaths in this powerfull man: sure Aeculapius
Revisits earth againe; and in this shape
Deales health amongst us! I before was nothing
But brui [...] and beast: O tell me by what reliques
Of heavenly fire have you inspir'd me with
This better soule of reason! worthy sir,
If y'are some God (as lesse I cannot deeme you)
That pittying of my miseries, came downe
From heaven to cure mee, tell mee, that I may
With sacrifice adore you.
Adore him?
Are there such Ruffian Gods in heaven as he?
Such beggarly Deities?
If you will conceale it,
And I by ignorance omit to pay
Those sacred duties that I ought, be pleas'd
To pardon me.
Heighday! well Thestylis,
You may be glad your house is not infected;
Hee'sten times madder now then ere he was,
To deify this rude ill-favour'd Silvan,
This fellow with the beard all over: Thestylis,
I dare not stay; unlesse my heeles maintaine
My safety I shall turne a dog againe.
Exit Mopsus.
I am as you are, mortall; 'tis my skill
In Physick, and experience in the rare
Vertue of herbes, that wrought this miracle;
[Page 72]No Divinity, or power in me.

Amyntas, when shall wee requite this kindnesse?

Never, I would willingly
Have sacrific'd unto him, but his modesty
Will not permit it: though he will not suffer us
T'adore him as a God; yet we may pay
A reverence to him as a father.

O those words doe touch the quick!

For if he be
A father that begot this flesh, this clay,
What's he to whom we owe our second birth
Of soule and reason? Father, I must call you
By that name, father.
Now the floudgates open,
And the full streame of teares will issue out:
Traitors, you will betray me!

Sir, why weepe you?

To thinke of this man's father—O I lov'd him
As dearely as my selfe (my words and all
Breake out suspitious!) has [...]e not a daughter?
As I remember well, he said her name was—


Yes, I had almost
Forgot it, I would faine have seene her too.
You cannot now, because to night she lodg'd
With one Laurinda.

SCEN. 3.

  • Vrania.
O my Vrania, welcome,
Amyntas bids thee so, I that 'till now
Was not Amyntas: come my joy, and meet mee
Full of our happinesse!
Grant Ceres now
My hopes be faithfull to me: my Amyntas,
How come your thoughts so setled?
O Vrania,
Here, here he stands, to whom I owe my selfe,
And thou owest me: we reverence in our Temples
Marble, and brasse, whose statues serve for nothing
But to hang cobwebs on: oh! how much rather
Should we adore this Deity, that bestowed
Such happinesse upon us!
Would we knew
How to deserve it.
So you may Vrania,
If you will grant me one request.

Command it.

I would intreat you presently to vow
Virginity to Ceres, that Amyntas
No more may toyle his brain in thinking what
To give you for a Dowry.
Sir, I will
Presently about it, I'le only first
Get some unknown disguise.
[Page 74]
I dare stay here
No longer, for I must begon ereyet
The light betrayes me.

Happinesse attend you!


Remember it Vrania.


Farewell father.

Exeunt Vran. Amynt. Thestyl.
Claius Solus.
Thus like a bat, or owle I spend my age
In night or darknesse, as asham'd of day,
And fearefull of the light: the sunne and I
Dare never be acquainted. O guilt, guilt,
Thou and thy daughter feare are punishments
Perpetuall, every whistling of the wind
Doth seeme the noise of apprehenders▪ shadowes
Affright me more then men. Each step I tread
Is danger. Life? why to live longer should we
Not live at all: I heare a noise: false timorousnesse
Deceive me not,—my eyes instruct me too,
Heaven shield me—

SCEN. 4.

  • Alexis.
  • Damon.
Fain I would enquire of them
For Amaryllis, but if one of these
Bee Damon, I am lost.

How early, Damon, doe lovers rise?


Tis he, I heare his name, good mole away.


No Larkes so soon, Alexis.

[Page 75]
He that of us shall have Laurinda, Damon,
Will not be up so soone: ha! would you Damon?
Alexis, no▪ but if I misse Laurinda,
My sleepe shall be eternall.

I much wonder the Sunne so soone can rise!


Did he lay his head in faire Laurinda's lap,


We should have but short daies.


No summer, Damon.


Thetis to her is browne.

And he doth rise
From her to gaze on faire Laurinda's eyes.

O now I long to meet our Arbitresse.


On whom depends our only happinesse.

It must be the first Virgin that we greet
From Ceres Temple.

Yes, the first we meet.


I heare no noise of any yet that move.


Devotion's not so early up as love.

See how Aurora blushes! we suppose
Where Tithon lay to night.
That modest rose
He grafted there.
O heaven, 'tis all I seeke,
To make that colour in Laurinda's cheeke.

The virgins now come from the Temple.


Appeale unto the first.

SCEN. 5.

The virgins passe over the stage with waxe candles in their hands, Amaryllis goes the first, but she is staid by Damon, as unknown to be Amaryllis, she be­ing vail'd and having on her head the garland that Laurinda took from Damon.
Chast beauteous Nymph,
Ceres so grant your prayers, as you determine
Iustly our cause!
Ceres has heard my prayers,
For all my morning orisons beg'd no more
Then one kind word from Damon.



That name breaths life & soul to poore Alexis.

The same;—why startle you? you have not met
A poyson, Damon.
Yes, a thousand vipers
Have stung my soule.
As many joyes crown mine
With happinesse.
Would I had met this morning
Infectious vapors nursing plagues, not thee;
No curse but that had power to ruin mee!

No other blessing hath preserved mee.

What should this mean, my Damon? how have I
Displeas'd you, sweet? heaven knowes it is my praier
More then for heaven, to please you.
O my torture!
[Page 77]Fly hence as farre as hell, and hide thy head
Lower then darknesse; would thou had'st been acting▪
Incest or murder, when thou cam'st to pray:
Thou hadst in any thing sinn'd lesse then this:
Vnseasonable devotion!
Can it be
A sin to pray for Damon?
Thou had'st blest mee
Had'st thou sate all this while in some dark cell
Loading my head with curses.
Let me not understand you.
I'le not stand
To her award, she is a partiall judge,
And will decree unjustly.
How, to Damon?
To him she loves so deerely?
That's the reason;
Shee does confesse, Alexis, that she loves me,
That's argument enough against het.

Ceres, these obscure passions move me.

I'le instruct you,
Take here the paper, pen and inke.
Why yet sir
I know no more.
You are to passe your censure,
Being the first Nymph that we have met this morning,
Which of us two must have the faire Laurinda.
Write your award; our mutuall oathes doe bind us
Not to deny't.
[Page 78]
'Tis a meere plot contriv'd
Betwixt this cursed Nymph, and you▪ Alexis.

Damon you wrong us both.

Where did you steale
This Garland? it was mine.
For that I love it,
Because it once was thine.
For that I hate it,
Cause it is thine, had it been true to mee▪
Me thinkes as soone as it had toucht thy head
It should have withered.
So it would have done
Had it not first touch't yours. Laurinda gave me
This Garland, but nere told me of this accident.
Alexis, you deale false, 'tis a conspiracy
'Twixt you and her.
How can it? you know, Damon,
I have not beene one minute from your presence.

You tooke your time while I was sleeping.

Nor I nor you could sleepe one winke this night,
The expectation of this morning tryall
Did keepe us both awake.
I doe not know,
But there is some trick in't, and I'le appeale
From her too partiall se [...]ence.
I'le the while goe fetch Laurinda, shee shall force you stand
Vnto her tryall.
Damon, thy harsh language is more then death
[Page 79]Vnto me.
I doe charge you to teare the paper,
And refuse to judge between us.

No, I am resolv'd to write what I determine.

Now thou hast indeed a time wherein thou maist
Revenge my scorne. Take it, but I'le prevent thee.
he strikes her.
Welcome death!
From him all things are so. Damon, fly hence,
Thou hast shed bloud here in the Sacred Valley,
Make hast away or thou art lost for ever.

Thy counsell's good, no matter whose the guilt.

Exit Damon.
What was it he said last?—Thou hast indeed
A time wherein thou maist revenge my scorne.
—With love, no otherwise: and there thou shalt not
Prevent mee, Damon. I will write—This inke
Deserves not to record the name of Damon,
Tis black and ugly; thou thy selfe hast furnisht mee
With that of better colour. 'Tis my blood
That's truly Cupids inke: love ought to write
Only with that;—. This paper is too course;
O that I had my heart, to write it there!
But so it is already. Would I had
A Parchment made of my own skin, in that
To write the truth of my affection,
A wonder to posterity!—Hand make hast
As my bloud does, or I shall faint I feare
Ere I have done my story.—

SCEN. 6.

Enter Dorylas.
These milkemaids are the daintiest rogues▪ they kisse
As sweet as sillibubs, surely Oberon
Lives a delitious life! Ha! who lies here?
A Nymph? If't were but now in Oberons power
To steale away her maidenhead, as she sleepes:
O 'twould be excellent sport, to see how shee
Would misse it when she wakes: what misery 'tis
To be a boy; why could not my good father
Have got me five yeares sooner? here had been
A purchase: well, 'tis but five yeares longer
And I shall hope to see a merrier world.
No body neere too! Slid the very thought's
Enough to make me man oth sudden, well
I'le kisse her though.

Oh I faint.

She dreames;
Now shall I know all secrets: These same women
Are given so much to talke when they are awake
That they prate sleeping too.
My blood congeales
Within my quill, and I can write no more.
Love letters? she was troubled yester night
About inditcing, and she dreames on't now.
Poore sleepy secretary!
I will fold it up
[Page 18]And send it; who's that's here? my eyes
Are dimme, ha, Dorylas!
Now she dreames shee gives it me to carry;
I halfe feare I use to carry letters in my sleepe,
Wearying my selfe all night, and that's the reason
I am so loath to rise i'th' morning.

Dorylas, carry this letter for mee.

I thought so,
That's all that I can doe, carry their letters,
Or runne of errands: well, come five yeares hence
They may imploy me better. Vnto whom is it?

Vnto Laurinda, take it.


How, a red letter?

Say I wish all health to her and Damon;
And being not able for to beare my griefes,
I sought a remedy from mine own speare and died.
How dead? oh mee,
See how her blood hath stain'd the holy Valley!
Well you have done me wrong to kill your selfe,
Only to have me sacrifis'd on the Altar,
I nere deserv'd it.

Fear not Dorylas.


Fear not, to dye so like a calfe? oh Dorylas oh—

Good Dorylas be gone, whilest yet my breath
Will give me leave to say it was not you.

See that you doe, and so farewell.

How fearfull death is unto them; whose life
Had any sweetnesse in it! my daies have all
Been so oreworne with sorrow, that this wound
[Page 82]Is unto me rather a salve then fore,
More physick then disease: whither my journey
Shall lead me now; through what dark hideous place;
Among what monsters, hags and snake-hair'd Furies,
Am I to goe, I know not: but my life
Hath been so spotlesse, chast, and innocent,
My death so undeserv'd, I have no reason
(If there be Gods) but to expect the best;
Yet what doth most torment mee, is the thought
How long 'twill bee ere I again enjoy
My Damon's presence: untill then, Elysium
Will be no place of pleasure; and perchance
When he comes thither too, he then may slight mee
As much as now.—That very feare doth make thee
Dye, wretched Amaryllis!

SCEN. 7.

Enter Claius.
How no feare
Can make me loose the father! Death or danger
Threat what you can; I have no heart to goe
Back to the mountaines, 'till my eyes have seen
My Amaryllis!
O was ever love
So cros'd as mine! was ever Nymph so wretched
As Amaryllis?
Ha! I heard the sound
Of Amarillis; where's that blessed creature,
That owes the name? are you the Virgin?
[Page 83]
That fatall name is mine. I shall anon
Be nothing but the name.
O speak, what hand,
What barbarous Tigers issue, what cursed whelpe
Of Beares or Lyon, had the marble heart
To wound so sweet a Nymph?
O sir, my bloud
Calls none but fortune guilty. I by chance
Stumbled on mine own dart, and hurt my selfe.▪
Then I have hearbs to cure it: heaven I thank thee
That didst instruct me hither! still the bloud
Flowes like a scarlet torrent, whose quick streame
Will not be checkt: speak Amarillis, quickly,
What hand this sinne hath stain'd, upon whose soule
This bloud writes murther; till you see the man
Before your eyes, that gave the hurt, all hope
In Physick is despaire:—She will not speak,
And now the cure growes to the last. Yet here
I have a Recipe will revive her spirits,
Applies a medicine and rubs her tēples.
And 'till the last drop of her blood be clean
Exhausted from those azure veines, preserve her;
But then shee's lost for ever! Then, O Ceres,
If there be any in these groves, men, virgins,
Beast, bird, or trees, or any thing detesting
This horrid fact, reveale it! Sacred grasse
Whose hallowed greene this bloudy deed hath stain'd,
Aske nature for a tongue to name the murtherer!
I'le to the Temple:—If this place containe
Any Divinity, Piety, or Religion,
[Page 84]If there be any God at home, or Priest,
Ompha, or Oracle, Shrine, or Altar, speake
Who did it: who is guilty of this sinne,
That dyes the earth with bloud, & makes the heavens
Asham'd to stand a witnesse?

SCEN. 8.

Enter Pilumnus. Corymbus,
What sad voyce
Disturbs our pious Orgyes?
See, Pilumnus,
A virgin all in gore.
Ceres defend us,
The Sacred Vally is prophan'd.
The place
So deare to Ceres, all defil'd with bloud.
By Ceres, and her holy Ompha, hee
That did it, with his blood shall satisfy
The Goddesse anger; who by blood offends
By his own sacrific'd, must make amends.
I durst presume upon the power of art,
Did I but know the murtherer.
How soever
'Tis death to him that did it.
Speake his name
Faire virgin.
O—if it be death to him
That did it, I have not the power to live
[Page 85]Behind him.

Why, who was it then?

My selfe,
And therefore in my death your law is satisfied,
The blood and act both mine.
It is not so,
For had it been by her own hand, my skill
Could have preserv'd her life.
It was my selfe,
Or one as deare.

Who's that?

I'le rather dye
Then name him, though it be a name I use
Oft to repeat, and every repetition
Is a new soule unto mee: 'tis a name
I have taught the birds to caroll, every
Laurell and Cedar beares it registred
Vpon his tender barke; it is a name
In which is all the life I yet have left;
A name I long to speake; yet I had rather
Dye all the severall sorts of death twice over
Then speake it once.
I charge thee by that duty
Thou ow'st to me, Amarillis, that thou owest to me
Who gave thee life.—

What should this mean Corymbus!

And by the womb that bare thee, by the breasts
Of thy dead mother, Lalage,

This is strange.

Conceale him not! in plain, I am thy father
[Page 86]Thy father, Amarillis, that commands thee
By these gray haires to tell mee. I am Claius.

How, Claius! and so fortunatly found!

I, glut your hate, Pilumnus; let your soule
That has so long thirsted to drinke my blood,
Swill till my veines are empty; and carowse
Deep in my heart, till you grow drunke, and reele,
And vomit up the surfet, that your cruelty
Quaft off with so much pleasure; I have stood
Long like a fatall oake, at which great Iove
Levels his thunder; all my boughes long since
Blasted and wither'd; now the trunke falls too.
Heaven end thy wrath in mee!
Blessed be Ceres!
What unexpected happines is here?
Rejoyce Sicilians; miserable lovers,
Crowne all your browes with roses, and adore
The Deity that sent him: he is come
Whose blood must quench the fire of Ceres wrath,
And kindle more auspitious flames of love
In every brest.
I, doe, I feare not death.
Let every Virgins hand when I am slaine
Ring me a knell of Plaudits: let my Dirges
Be amorous Ditties, and in stead of weeping
Dance at my funerall! Tis no griefe for mee
To dye to make my countrymen some sport.
Here's one in whom I only wish to live
Another age.
What joy have I to live,
[Page 87]That nere liv'd yet: the time that I have spent
Since first I wept, then, when I first had entrance
Into this world, this cold and sorrowfull world,
Was but a scene of sorrow; wretched I!
Fatall to both my parents! For my birth
Ruin'd my mother, and my death my father.
O Tragick life! I either should have been
Nere borne, or nere have died. When I began
To be, my sinne began, why should it then
Out live mee? for, though now I cease to be,
That still continues: Eyes, flow forth a pace,
And be asham'd to see my wound run blood
Faster then you drop teares—
Enter Damon.
See, here he comes.
His absence never untill now I wisht.
My Conscience brings me back, the feet of guilt
Goe slow and dull, 'tis hard to run away
From that we beare about us!
The Murtherer
Is in this place, the issue of her blood
Is stop'd oth' sudden. Cruell man, 'tis thou
Hast done this bloudy act, that will disgrace
The story of our nation, and imprint
So deepe a blemish in the age we live in
For savage Barbarisme, that eternity
Shall nere weare out: Pilumnus, on my knees
I beg the justice of Sicilian lawes
Against this monster.
Claius, 'tis your hate,
[Page 88]And old revenge instructs you to accuse
My Sonne: you would have fellowes in your death,
And to that purpose you pretend, I know not
What mysteries of art!
Speak Amaryllis
I'st not this wolfe?

Say, virgin, was it hee?

O, I am angry with my blood for stopping!
This coward ebbe against my will betraies mee;
The streame is turn'd, my eyes run faster now.

Can you accuse my sonne?

By Ceres, no;
I have no heart to doe it: does that face
Look cruell? doe those eyes sparkle with hate,
Or malice? Tell me, Father, lookes that brow
As if it could but frowne? Say, can you thinke
Tis possible Damon could have the heart
To wound a Virgin? surely barbarous cruelty
Dwels not in such a brest: mercy, and mildnesse,
Courtesy, love, and sweetnesse breath in him,
Not Anger, wrath, or murther; Damon was not
Fed at a Thracian teat, Venus did send
Her Doves to nurse him, and can he be cruell?
Whence should he learne so much of barbarisme
As thus to wrong a Virgin? if he wound mee
Tis only from his eyes, where loves blind God
Whets his pil'd arrowes; He besides, you know,
Had never cause to wrong mee, for he knowes
Alwaies I lov'd him: Father, doe not wrong
An innocent; his soule is white, and pure,
[Page 89]Tis sinne to thinke there lives a sinne in him;
Impiety to accuse him.
In his lookes
He carries guilt, whose horror breeds this strange
And obstinate silence: shame, and his conscience
Will not permit him to deny it.
Tis, alas,
His modest, bashfull nature, and pure innocence,
That makes him silent: think you that bright rose
That buds within his cheekes, was planted there
By guilt or shame? no, he has alwaies been
So unacquainted with all act of sinne,
That but to be suspected strikes him dumb
With wonder and amazement. For by Ceres
(I think my oath be lawfull) I my selfe
Was cause of this.
Still I am confident
'Twas hee.

It is your envy makes you so.

SCEN. 9.

  • Alexis.
  • Laurinda.
—I will Alexis,
And so he must if oathes be any tye.
To lovers they are none, we break those bonds
As easily as threds of silke: A bracelet
Made of your maidens haire's a stronger chaine
Then twenty cobweb oathes, which while we break
Venus but laughs: it must be your perswasion
[Page 90]That works him to it.
Damon, you must stand
To what you promis'd, how shall I believe
Those other oathes you sweare, if you respect
This one no better: It was my device
To have her judge, was it not, Amarillis?
How, all in blood!
Yes, this unmercifull man
(If he be man that can doe such a crime)
Has wounded her.

Indeed it was not hee.


You see her selfe frees him.

When last we left her
She was with Damon.
Pray believe her not,
She speaks it out of anger, I nere saw
Damon to day before.
And when we left 'em
He was incens'd.
You are no competent witnesse;
You are his Rivall in Laurinda's love,
And speak not truth but malice, 'tis a plot
To ruin innocence.
O ungratefull man!
The wolfe that does devoure the brest that nurst it
Is not so bad as thou: here, here, this Letter
Th' eternall Chronicle of affection,
That ought with golden characters to be writ
In Cupids Annals, will (false man) convince thee
Of fowle ingratitude: you shall hear me read it.
The Letter.
Laurinda, you have put it unto mee
To choose a husband for you, I will be
A judge impartiall, upright, just and true,
Yet not so much unto my selfe as you.

Now I expect to hear my blessed doome.

Alexis well deserves, but Damon more;
I wish you him I wisht my selfe before.
O, I am ruin'd in the height of hope.
How like the hearb Solstitiall is a lover,
Now borne, now dead again, he buds, sprouts forth,
Flourishes, ripens, withers in a minute.
Take him, the best of men, that ever eye
Beheld, and live with him for whom I dye.
Here look on't.—
Writ with blood? o let me kisse
My bill of Accusation! here my name
Lookes like my soule, all crimson, every line,
Word, syllable, and letter, weares the livery
Of my unnaturall action. Amarillis
That name of all is black, which was alone
Worthy so pretious inke; as if disdaining
The character of cruelty, which the rest
Were cloathd in: for as if that word alone
Did weare this mourning colour, to bewaile
The funerall of my vertue, that lies buried
Here in this living tombe, this moving sepulchre.
Know murtherer I hate thy bed, and thee,
Unkind, unthankfull villaine.
[Page 92]
Nay, Laurinda,
You have bound your selfe to stand to my award;
The sentence now is past, and you must love him,
It cannot be revers'd; you are deceiv'd,
He is not guilty of this sinne, his love
To me, for mine, makes him against his conscience
Seeme to confesse it, but believe him not.

Nor will, he is all falshood, and ingratitude.

Laurinda, you may spare in this harsh language
To utter your dislike: had you a beauty
More then immortall, and a face whose glory
Farre outshind Angels, I would make my choyce
Here, and no where but here; her vertue now
Moves a more noble flame within my brest
Then ere your beauty did; I am enamour'd
More of her soule, then ever yet I doted
Upon your face: I doe confesse the fact;
Pardon me vertuous maid, for though the action
Be worthy death, the object most condemnes mee!
Take me to death Corymbus; Amarillis,
I goe to write my story of repentance
With the same inke, wherewith thou wrotes before
The legend of thy love, farewell, farewell.
Exeunt Corymb. Dam.
Laurinda, and Alexis, doe you call
The Sheapheards, and the virgins of Sicilia
To see him sacrific'd, whose death must make
There loves more fortunate; this day shall be
Happy to all Sicilians, but to mee.
Yet come thou cursed Claius, the sweet comfort
[Page 93]Which I shall take when my revenge is done,
Will something ease the sorrow for my sonne.
Amarillis, prethee call Amyntas to mee,
And Thestylis: I faine would have mine eye
Behold them once again before I dye.
Ex. Pil. Cla.
Come my Laurinda, through how many chances,
Suspicions, errors, sorrowes, doubts, and feares
Love leads us to our pleasures; many stormes
Have we sail'd through my Sweet, but who could feare
A tempest, that had hope to harbour here.
Ex. Alex. Lau.
Amarillis sola.
All, all but the distressed Amarillis
Are happy, or lesse wretched; fair Laurinda
Is ready for a wedding, old Pilumnus
Hath lost a sonne, yet mitigates his griefe
In Claius death, my father Claius dies
Yet joyes to have the sonne of his old enemy
A partner of his sorrowes; my father looses
Only himselfe; and Damon too no more;
Amyntas but a father, onely I
Have lost all these; I have lost Claius, Damon,
And my selfe too; A father with Amyntas,
And all the rest in Damon, and which more
Affects mee, I am cause of all; Pilumnus
Had not else lost his sonne, nor had Amyntas
Wept for a Father, nor poore Thestylis
Bewail'd a brother; Damon might have liv'd,
And Claius but for mee; all circumstances
Concurreto make my miseries compleat,
[Page 94]And sorrowes perfect: for I lost my father
As soone as I had found him, and my Damon
As soone as I had found he lov'd mee: thus
All I can find is losse; o too too wretched,
Distressed virgin! when they both are dead
Visit their Ashes, and first weepe an howre
On Claius Vrne, then go, and spend another
At Damon's; thence again goe wet the tombe
Of thy dead father, and from thence returne
Back to thy lovers grave; thus spend thy age
In sorrowes; and till death doe end thy cares
Betwixt these two equally share thy teares.
Finis Actus quarti.


SCEN. 1.

Dorylas, and a Chorus of Swaines.
COme neighbours, let's goe see the sacrifice
Must make you happy lovers: oh 'twill be
A fortunate season! Father Coridon,
You and old mother Baucis shall be friends.
The sheepe-hooke and the distaffe shall shake hands.
You lovely freeze-coats, nothing now but kissing,
Kissing and culling, culling and kissing, heighday!
In hope it will be one day so with mee
I am content to live. Now let's ascend.

SCEN. 2.

  • Alexis.
  • Laurinda.
  • Medorus.
Now my Laurinda, now (o happy now!)
All lets that stood between my joy and mee
Are gone and fled.
Long, o too long, Alexis,
My doubtfull fancy wavered whom to love,
Damon, or you; in both was happinesse,
But double happinesse was my single misery:
So far'd it once, Alexis, (for I well
Remember it) with one of my poore ewes,
Equally mov'd between two tufts of grasse,
This tempting one way, that inticing t' other,
Now she would this, then that, then this againe,
Vntill poore foole (true embleme of her mistresse)
Shee almost starv'd in choosing which to feed on;
At last (so heaven pittied the innocent foole)
A westerne gale nipt one, which being blasted
Shee fed upon the other.

Pretty fool! lets now no more deferre our nuptial (joyes.

How sweet a folly is this love? But rash youth, Alexis,
(As youth is rash) runnes indiscreetly on
While mature judgment ripened by experience
Stayes for loves season.
Season? why, can love
Be ever out of season?
[Page 96]
Yes, Alexis,
Nothing's borne ripe, all things at first are greene,

Lau. And such shall our affection still be seene.

You are to hasty reapers that doe call
For Sickles in the spring:
Loves, harvest shall;
(Lovers you know) his harvest ought to bee
All the yeare long.
In Cupids husbandry,
Who reapes not in the spring, reapes not at all.
Woemen indeed too soone begin their fall.
Yet till curst Claius dye, as now he must,
Alexis, and Laurinda, let my counsell
Asswage the heat of youth; pray be perswaded
A while for to deferre your nuptiall blisse;
'Tis but a while.

A while in lov's an age.


Maids in a while grow old.


Temper loves fire.


'Tis but cold love that's temperate in desire.

Yet, loving paire, stay 'till a fayrer gale;
He deserves shipwrack, ('tis the Marriners flout)
And justly too, that in a storme sets out.

I will suppresse my flame, (ah still it glowes.)


And I, but how unwilling Cupid knowes!

Tis well; now let's goe take our place, to see
For our sad griefes a sadder remedy.

SCEN. 3.

  • Amyntas.
  • Amarillis.
—Yes, it was he: hee's in the temple brother,
A place wherein he doth deserve a shrine,
Yet is to him a prison; can you Gods
Suffer the place that's reard unto your honours
Be made so vile a thing?
Pray give mee entrance:
I am not mad, (and yet I would I were)
Am I not mad to wish so? Let me come
And see him, sure you had your selfe a father.
Did you not wish to see him ere he died?
If he be dead: wee'l only pray a while,
And weep; will tears pollute the hallowed Ompha?
For we must shed them, yes, we cannot choose:
Come sister, he will let us, for though Lalage
Was our sad mother, yet the Gods will let us
Weepe for her: come, come Amarillis, come.

SCEN. 4.

  • Mopsus.
  • Iocastus.

Brother, aread, what meanes his graces favour?

It signifies you bear the bell away,
From all his Graces nobles.
Divinely Augur'd;
For this I'le make thee Augur to his grace.

Belwether of Knight-hood, you shall bind me to you.

[Page 98]
I'le have't no more a sheep-bell; I am Knight
Of the Mellisonant Tingle tangle.
Sure one of my progeny; tell me gratious brother,
Was this Mellisonant Tingle tangle none
Of old Actaeons hounds?
Ignorant mortall,
Thou dost not understand the termes of honour.

How should I sir, my trees bear no such apples:

As mine, th'Hesperian fruit are crabbs to mine,
Hence came the Knight-hood, hence.

The fame whereof rings loud.


We know it.

Foure such knight-hoods more
Would make an excellent peale.

I'le have 'em so.


But you must get a squirell too.


For what?


To ring your Knight-hoods.

I'le have any thing,
His grace will not deny me, o sweet orchard.

To see the fruit that came of such an orchard!


But shall we not see Claius sacrific'd?


Oh by all meanes.


But how deserv'd he death?

No matter for deserving it or no;
Tis fit he suffer for example sake.

And not offend?


Tis fit he should offend.

They take their places.

SCEN. 5.

Pilumnus with a sacrificing knife, fire laid on the Altar, a Priest holding a Taper ready to kindle it, ano­ther Priest powring water on Claius head, who was bound: Corymbus leading out Damon bound.
Sicilians, Nature and religion
Are at contention in mee: my sad soule
Divided 'twixt my Goddesse and my sonne,
Would in her strange distractions, either have mee
Turne Parricide or Apostate: Awefull Ceres,
For whom I feed the fattest of my Lambs,
To whom I send the holiest of my prayers
Vpon the smoaky wings of sweetest myrrhe,
Instruct thy doubtfull Flamen! As I cannot
Forget I am thy priest: for sooner shall
Our Lambs forget to feed, our swaines to sing,
Our Bees forget first, from the fruitfull Thyme
To cull them baggs of Nectar: everything
Forget his nature, ere I can forget
I am thy Priest: Nor can I but remember
That Damon is my sonne: yet take him Ceres!
You need not powre water upon his head,
I'le doe it with my teares. Ceres, I hope
Thy anger will not bind the Fathers eye
To look into the Bowels of his sonne,
I'le therefore first spill on thy hallowed Altar
This Captives blood; and then retire my selfe
Not to be present at my Damons death
[Page 92]Least nature might turne Rebell to devotion.
Ceres, to whom we owe that yet
We doe not Mast and Acornes eat:
That didst provide us better meat,
The purest flower of finest wheat.
This bloud we spill at thy desire,
To kindle, and to quench a ire.
O let it quench thy flame of fire,
And kindle mercies more entire.
O let this guilty bloud attone
For every poore unlucky one;
Nymph, or Swain, who ere doe grone
Vnder sad Loves imperious throne.
That Love a happier age may see
In thy long tortur'd Sicily.
That blood which must th' Attonement bee
Thus Goddesse, thus, we pay to thee!
  • Amyntas.
  • Amarillis.
Stay, stay that impious hand, whose hasty zeale
Thinks murther can appease the Goddesse wrath!
If it be murther must appease her wrath,
What is't can move her anger? Doe not then,
Doe not pollute her Altar, least it keep
The crimson staine of bloud, and blush for ever,
At this too cruell, ignorant devotion.

Avoid the mad man.

Why Pilumnus, Why?
[Page 93]By the dread Ompha, spare this guilty blood,
And I'le expound the Oracle.

What fire has yet his bloud or quench't or kindled?

Why it hath quencht the sadder flames of love,
And more auspitious fires begin to move.
Where? in what brest? No love in all Trinacria
But under Cupids scepter faints and groanes
More now then ever. Thy unfortunate Damon,
And more unfortunate Amarillis stand
A sad example; Thy Vrania
(O sad sweet name!) may with her poore Amintas
Witnesse his tyrannous reigne: here in Sicilia
Turtles grow jealous, Doves are turn'd unchast,
The very Pellica [...]s of Trinacria [...] woods
Are found unnaturall, and thirst the bloud
Of their young brood, (alas who can believe it?)
Whom they were wont to suckle with their own.
O wretched season! Bitter fruits of love!
The very Storks with us are Parricides.
Nay even the senselesse trees are sensible
Of this imperious rage: the gentle Vine
(The happy embleme once of happier Lovers)
That with such amorous twines, and close imbraces
Did cling about the loved-loving elme,
With slacker branches now falls down and withers:
If then to adde more fuell to the flame,
To powre in oyle and sulphure be to quench it,
The flame is quench'd. Nor are you hee, Pilumnus,
That must expound the Oracle, 'Tis a witt
[Page 102]Such as mine is neglected, that must hit
The Goddesse meaning: you, the living Oracle
Of Sicilie, the breathing Ompha of the Kingdome
Will misconceive the Goddesse; you are wise
Skil'd in the vertues of all herbs, and flowers,
What makes our Ewes ean best, what keeps thē sound;
Can tell us all the mysteries of heaven,
The number, height, and motion of the starres;
Tis a mad brain, an intellect, you scorne
That must unty this riddle.
But I know
The wrath of Ceres cannot be appeas'd
But by the bloud of Claius.

So it is.

How can that bee? yet his accursed gore
Hath not imbru'd the Altar.
But his bloud
Hath been already shed in Amarillis:
Shee is his bloud, so is Vrania yours,
And Damon is your bloud; That is the bloud
The Goddesse aimes at, that must still her ire,
For her bloud hath both quench't and kindled fire.

What hath it quencht or kindled?

Love, the fire
That must be quench't and kindled. Damons love
To his Laurinda in that bloud extinguish'd,
Is by that powerfull bloud kindled anew
To Amarillis, now grown his desire:
Thus Claius bloud hath quench't and kindled fire.

Amyntas, Amyntas, Amyntas, Amyntas.

[Page 103]
And is the fire of my Damon kindled
But to be quench't againe: Ceres! a frost
Dwell on thy Alters, ere my zeale renew
Religious fires to warme'em.
Spare these blasphemies,
For Damon is acquitted & affoil'd
Of any trespasse.
How Amyntas? speake!
Thou that hast sav'd a Father, save a sonne.
Thus, Amarillis is the Sacrifice
The Goddesse aim'd at: and the bloud of Sacrifice
(As you all know) may lawfully be spilt
Even in the Holy vale, and so it was;
Besides your Damon is a Priest by birth,
And therefore by that Title, he may spill
The sacrifized Amarillis bloud.
If this interpretation be not true,
Speak you Sicilians, I'le be judg'd by you.

Amyntas, Amyntas, Amyntas, Amyntas.

Amyntas, thou hast now made full amends
For my Philebus death; Claius all envy,
Envy the viper of a venemous soule
Shall quit my brest: This is the man, Sicilians,
The man to whom you owe your liberties;
Goe Virgins, and with Roses strow his way,
Crowne him with violets, and lilly wreathes;
Cut off your golden tresses, and from them
Weave him a robe of love: Damon, pay here
The debt of duty that thou ow'st to mee;
Hence was thy second birth.
[Page 102] [...][Page 103] [...][Page 96]
Or hither rather:
The Balsame of Sicilia flowed from hence,
Hence from this scarlet torrent, whose each drop
Might ransome Cupid were he captive tane.
How much owe I my Damon, whose blest hand
Made mee the publique sacrifice! could I shed
As many drops of blood, even from the heart,
As Arethusa drops of water can,
I would outvie her at the fullest tide,
That other Virgins loues might happy be,
And mine my Damon be as blest in thee.
O what a showre of joy falls from mine eyes!
The now too fortunate Claius! my Amyntas,
My Amarillis, how shall I divide
My teares and joyes betwixt you!
Lovers come,
Come all with flowry chaplets on your browes,
And singing Hymmes to Ceres, walk around
This happy village; to expresse our glee
This day each yeare shall Cupids triumphs bee.
Still my impossible Dowry for Vrania
Leaves mee unfortunate in the mid'st of joy;
Yet out of piety I will heere a while
(Though blest I am not 'till she be my bride)
In publique joyes lay private griefes aside.
Exeunt cum Choro cantantium▪
And I'le goe fetch the youngsters of the towne,
The mortall Fairies, and the lasses browne,
To bring spic'd cakes, and ale, to dance and play,
[Page 97]Queen Mab her selfe shall keepe it holy-day.
Ah Dorilas that I could not have the wit
To have been a mad man rather then a foole.
I have lost the credit.
Tis no matter
You shall have Thestylis,
Shall I, Dorylas,
I had as live interpret her as Oracles.

And here she comes, give mee your quaile pipe, harke you.—

Enter Thestylis.
Now, Thestylis, thou shalt mine Oracle bee,
Hence forth I will interpret none but thee.

Why haue the birds (my Mopsus) councel'd so?


They say I must, whether you will or noe.


How know I that?

The birds doe speak it plain.
Dorilas with a quaile pipe.
Harke, Thestylis, the birds say so again.

I understand them not.

Will you be judg'd
By th'next we meet?
Mopsus, I am content,
So you will stand unto it as well as I.

By Ceres, Thestylis, most willingly.

Enter Dorylas.

Ah Dorilus, heard you what the birds did say?


I Mopsus, you are a happy man to day.


What said they boy?


As if you did not know.


But Thestylis.

[Page 106]
Why sure she understands it,
Have you to her this language never read?

No, Dorylas, I can teach her best in bed.

The Birds said twice: (as you full well doe know)
You must have Thestylis whether she will or no.
And am I caught? Tis no great matter though;
For this time Mopsus I will marry thee;
The next I wed, by Pan, shall wiser bee!

And have I got thee? thankes my witty boy.


Harke, Thestylis, the birds doe bid you joy.


For fooling Mopsus, now 'tis time give ore.


Mad man I may, but will be foole no more.

Mad after marriage as a foole before.
For hee's a foole that weds, all wives being bad;
And shee's a foole makes not her husband mad.

SCEN. 6.

Iocastus with a Morrice, himselfe maid Marrian, Bromius the Clowne.
See, Mopsus, see, here comes your Fairy brother,
Hark you, for one good turne deserves another.
Exeunt Dor. Mop.
I did not think there had been such delight
In any mortall Morrice, they doe caper
Like quarter Fairies at the least: by my Knight-hood,
And by this sweet Mellisonant Tingle tangle,
The ensigne of my glory, you shall bee
Of Oberons Revels.
What to doe I pray?
[Page 107]To dance away your Apples.
Surely mortall,
Thou art not fit for any office there.
Enter Dorylas like the King of Fairies. Mopsus.
See, blind mortall, see,
With what a port, what grace, what majesty
This princely Oberon comes, your Grace is welcome.
A beauteous Lady, bright, and rare,
Queen Mab her selfe is not so faire.

Does your grace take me for a woman then?

Yes beauteous virgin; Thy each part
Has shot an arrow through my heart;
Thy blazing eye, thy lip so thinne,
Thy azure cheek, & christall chinne,
Thy rainbow brow, with many a rose;
Thy saphyre eares, and ruby nose,
All wound my soule, O gentle be
Or Lady you will ruin mee.
Bromius, what shall I doe? I am no woman!
If geelding of me will preserve your grace,
With all my heart.
No master, let him rather
Steale away all your orchard Apples.
I and shall,
Beauteous Queen Mab may loose her longing else.
How's this? are you no woman then?
Can such bright beauty live with men?

An't please your grace I am your Knight Iocastus.

Indeed I thought no man but hee
Could of such perfect beauty bee.
[Page 108]

Cannot your Grace distill me to a woman.

I have an hearb, they Moly call,
Can change thy shape (my sweet) and shall.
To tast this Moly but agree,
And thou shalt perfect woman bee.
With all my heart; nere let me move
But I am up to th'eares in love.
But what if I doe marry thee?

My Queene Iocasta thou shalt bee:

Sweet Moly! pray let Bromius have some Moly too,
Hee'l make a very pretty waiting maid.

No indeed forsooth, you have Ladies enough al­ready.

Halfe your estate then give to mee,
Else, you being gone, there none will be,
Whose Orchard I dare here frequent.

Sweet Oberon, I am content.


The other halfe let Mopsus take.


And Thestylis a joynture make.


Why master, are you mad?

Your mistrisse sirrah.
Our grace has said it, and it shall be so.

What, will you give away all your estate?

We have enough beside in Fairy land.
You Thestylis shall be our maid of honour.

I humbly thank your Grace.

Come Princely Oberon,
I long to tast this Moly: pray bestow
The Knight-hood of the Mellisonant Tingle tangle,
Vpon our brother Mopsus, we will raise
[Page 109]All of our house to honours.

Gracious sister!


I alwaies thought I was borne to be a Queene.

Come let us walke, majestique Queene,
Of Fairy mortalls to be seene.
In chaires of Pearle thou plac't shalt bee,
And Empresses shall envy thee,
When they behold upon our throne
Iocasta with her—Dorilas.

Ha, ha, ha!


Am I deceiv'd and cheated, guld and foold?


Alas sir you were borne to be a Queene.


My lands, my livings, and my orchard gone?


Your grace hath said it, and it must be so.


You have enough beside in Fairy land.


What would your Grace command your maid of honour?

Well I restore your lands: only the orchar'd
I will reserve for fear Queen Mab should long.
Part I'le restore unto my liberall sister
In leiw of my great Knighthood.

Part give I.


I am beholding to your liberality.

I'le some thing give as well as doe the rest,
Take my fooles coat, for you deserve it best.

I shall grow wiser.


Oberon will be glad on't

I must goe call Vrania that she may
Come vow Virginity.

SCEN. 7.

  • Pilumnus.
  • Amyntas. &c.
Ceres, I doe thank thee,
That I am author of this publique joy:
But is it justice (Goddesse) I alone
Should have no share in't? Every one I see
Is happy but my selfe that made 'em so,
And my Vrania that should most be so.
I thirst amidst the Bowles; when others sit
Quaffing off Nectar, I but hold the cup;
And stand a sadder Tantalus of love,
Starving in all this plenty; Cere's Demand
Feeds mee with gall; stretching my doubtfull thoughts
On many thousand racks: I would my Dowry
Was all the gold of Tagas, or the ore
Of bright Pactolus channell:—But, Vrania,
Tis hid, alas I know not what it is.

SCEN. 8.

  • Vrania.
  • Thestylis.
My Thestylis, since first the Sea-gods Trident
Did rule the small three pointed peece of earth
Of this our conquering soile, it has not been
A place of so much story as to day,
So full of wonders: O 'twill serve (my Thestylis)
For our discourse when we goe fol'd our Ewes,
[Page 111]Those Sheapheards that another day shall keep
Their Kiddes upon these mountaines shall for ever
Relate the miracle to their wondring Nymphs,
Of my Vrania; it will fill their eares
With admiration.

Sir, Vrania's here.

How! in this habit! This me thinks befits not
A Lover, my Vrania.
Yes, Amyntas.
This habit well befits a Virgins life.
For since my Dowry never can be paid
Thus for thy sake I'le live and dye a maid.
O is it just, so faire a one as you
Should vow Virginity? must the sacred womb
Of my Vrania fit to have brought forth
A fruitfull race of Gods, be ever barren?
Never expect Lucina? shall this beauty
Live but one age? how curs'd is our posterity
That shall have no Vrania's! can one Tombe
Contain all goodnesse? Ceres rather blast
The corne thou gav'st us: let the earth grow barren;
These trees, and flowers wither eternally;
Let our Plowes toyle in vaine; and let there be
No more a harvest: Every losse is small,
Yea though the Phaenix selfe should burne to ashes
And nere revive again! But let there be
Some more Vrania's
Tis necessity,
We must obey.
But yet Vrania,
[Page 112]I hope we may sometimes come pray together;
'Tis not prophane, and mid'st our sacred Orisons
Change a chast kisse or two; or shall I too
Turne Virgin with thee?—But I foole my selfe,
The Gods intend to crosse us, and in vaine
We strive (Vrania) to crosse them again.
Vrania kneeling before the Ompha.
Great Ceres, for thy daughter Proserpines sake
Ravisht by Pluto from Sicilian plaines
To raigne with him Queen of Elysian shades,
Accept the sacrifice of a Virgin, for
It is thy Pleasure, thine, by whom the earth
And every thing growes fruitfull, to have mee
Be ever barren: Thy impossible Dowry,
Makes me despaire to be Amyntas bride;
Therefore that cold chast snow that never should
Have melted but betwixt his amorous armes
I vow unto thy Cloyster (Awfull Goddesse!)
Almighty Ceres, is not this life holy


Better then live in an unhappy love?

Happy love▪

Be judge ye woods, & let Amyntas speak.

Amyntas, speak.

The Goddesse is well pleas'd, she daines to answer
By gracious Echo's; goe Amyntas speak.
Why, will she answer mee before Vrania?
No, 'twas the musique of her Angels voice,
Whose heavenly Accents with such charming notes
Ravish'd the Goddesse eares, she could not choose
But bear a part in that harmonious song;
Yet if she will after such melody
Endure to hear the harsh Amyntas speak.

Amyntas, speak.

[Page 113]
When wilt thou think my torments are enow?


Alas, how is it possible I should hope it?

Hope it.

How shall I pay the Dowry that you aske mee?

Aske mee.

I aske a Dowry to be made a Husband.

A Husband.

Answer directly to what I said last.

What I said last.

A Husband, Ceres? Why is that the guesse?


That which I have not, may not, cannot have,
I have not, may not, cannot have a Husband.
Tis true, I am a man, nor would I change
My sexe, to be the Empresse of the world.
Vrania, take thy Dowry, 'tis my selfe;
A Husband, take it.
Tis the richest Dowry
That ere my most ambitious praiers could beg▪
But I will bring a portion, my Amyntas,
Shall equall it, if it can equall'd bee:
That which I have not, may not, cannot have
Shall be thy portion, 'tis a wife, Amyntas
Should greater Queenes wooe mee in all their Pride,
And in their laps bring me the wealth of worlds,
I should prefer this portion 'fore the best▪
Thankes Ceres, that hast made us both be blest.

Be blest.

Pilumnus, let us now grow young againe,
And like two trees robb'd of their leafy boughes
By winter, age, and Boreas keener breath,
Sprout forth and bud again: This spring of joy
Cuts forty yeares away from the gray summe.
Once more in triumph let us walke the Village!
But first I will intreat this company
To deigne to take part in this publique joy.
Pilumnus Epilogizes.
All Loves are happy, none with us there bee,
Now sick of coynesse, or unconstancy.
The wealthy summes of Kisses doe amount
To greater scores then curious art can count!
Each eye is fix'd upon his Mistris face,
And every arme is lockt in some embrace.
Each cheeke is dimpled; every lip doth smile:
Such happinesse I wish this blessed Isle,
This little world of Lovers: and least you
Should think this blisse no reall joyes, nor true,
Would every Lady in this orbe might see
Their Loves as happy as we say they be!
And for you gentle youths, whose tender hearts
Are not shot proofe 'gainst love and Cupids darts;
These are my Prayrs, (I would those prayrs were charmes)
That each had here his Mistrisse in his armes.
True Lovers, (for tis truth gives love delight)
To you our Authors only means to wright.
If he have pleas'd (as yet he doubtfull stands)
For his applause clap lips instead of Hands.
He beggs nor Bayes, nor Ivy; only this,
Seale his wisht Plaudite with an amorous Kisse.
Exeunt Cantantes.

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.