[Page]POEMS' DIVINE, AND HVMANE. BY THOMAS BEEDOME.
LONDON, Printed by E. P. for Iohn Sweeting, and are to be sold at his Shop, at the signe of the Angel in Popes-Head-Alley, neer Cornehill. 1641.
[Page]To the Reader.
BOokes are the pictures of mens lives delineated, first by fancy, and by judgement drawne to the life. Such is this peice, the living Idea of him that writ it, who though now dead, has a living Monument to his worth. His Booke, which despight of fire, can never con [...]ert to ashes, 'Tis Lentum Ilium, slow Troy; that will not bee easily consinned; he shall live in Paper, which shall make him live in's Marble. And in this good Reader, his worth shall bee Emergent, he has don many things well, and nothing ill. Therefore receive him as an absolute testimony of wit and fancy, or else deceive thy selfe, since his workes are as excellent, as singular.
HEN. GLAPTHORNE:
On the deceased Authour, Master Thomas Beedom, and his Poems.
REader it grieves mee [...] that I cannot bring,
A fresh Encomion, but am foro't to sing,
A withered Elegie, and onely boast,
The wealth and treasure of a friend that's lost.
Beedom, I doe admire thy verse; The sweet,
And gentle cadence of th [...]ir ordered [...]eet,
Whose couplets kisse, with so divine an Art,
As if the Sibills had about thy heart,
Layd their propheticke Spells and every line,
Deare Beedom, I doe season with my brine,
Though there was salt enough in them before,
To keepe thy bayes still fresh: But I deplore,
As others doe, for there thy Art is showen,
In stealing pitty thus from every one.
For unlesse tribute of some sigh [...] are paid.
[Page]Thy jealous Lover, and thy constant Maid,
Cannot be read, and these all sadly vie,
As true oblations, to thy obsequie.
But when I wander in thy other walkes,
And see the flowers of poesie on their stalkes,
Florish in pride of fancy, I beginne,
Almost to thinke Idolatry no sinne.
For such a perfume breakes the yeelding Ayr [...],
I am urg'd to offer for thy soule a prayer,
And thinke in that sweet incense, may arise,
My love, and wishes, as a sacrifice.
Thou'lt gaine a [...]trange advantage of thy fate,
That's forc't to valew thee at equall rate,
With the s [...]le Phenix; for fr [...]m thy pure dust,
Thy fame takes wing, and perching on the trust
Of thy firme friend, (though round with envy hurl'd)
Dares with a broad eye looke upon the world,
He being best knowne Beedom, to thy wit
Thou wisely mad'st executor to it.
Who not defrauding of the world its due,
Presents thy worke unto the wiser few.
Me thinkes I heare from thy most gratefull clay,
Soft murmurs breake, and speaking seeme to say,
Thanks my deare Wilbore, for thy love and care.
By this my Genius clames an ample share,
For by the Elixir of thy friendly art,
My memory, (which is my better part)
[Page]Shall live, which ages hence shall gladly see,
Wrought by the wonder of Loves chimistrie.
And such a Tombe Beedom, thy friend will make,
That all consuming time can never shake,
Let others build, I by that friend am sent,
To bring this first stone to his Monument.
Ed. May:
On the death and Poems, of his most deare friend, Master I homas Beedome.
VVHy did thy muse display her eaglets wing,
And [...]ale a flight at heaven? why did shee sing,
Like to the earely Larke, when she begunne,
Glad carolls in the eare o'the listning Sunne.
Till heavens inhabitants did even conspire,
To snatch thee as a chanter to their quire,
But glorious Beedome, ere he left the earth,
Did give to fame a Monument, a birth.
To such a living fancy, as in spight,
Of fate, shall like a precious ray of light,
Dwell 'bout his urne, where all the muses sit,
Wayling the losse of his emergent wit.
And weeping ore his ashes till their eyes,
Instead of teares, shed mournfull El [...]gies.
Penei [...]n Daphne, there her armes displayes,
As if she would intombe him in her bayes.
And she who Phoebus hot pursuit did shunne,
Imbraces the old ashes of his sonne.
[Page] There a bright troope of Virgins that from farre,
Appeare, resembling every one a starre,
Drown'd in a see of pearle, doe sadly rise,
From his lov'd true, each one without their eyes.
Wept out, or burning left there, as they'd meant,
Those lights for tapers to his Monument.
Where shall we find at such a time a soule,
That could in flowing numbers even controule,
Arts nimblest currents, and most swiftly glide,
Without least noyse, admir'd before espide.
So have I seene a gentle streame, with sweet,
And fluent motion, softly hast: to meet,
Its mother Ocean, and inrich her store,
With a more gratefull tribute then before.
A thousand violent torrents p [...]id, whose waves,
Though lowder, brought lesse musicke to their graves,
His life was all one harmony, and in's death,
Numerous, and full of sweetnesse was his breath,
Expanded like the Swans concluding layes,
In lasting accents, that shall speake his prayse,
While Feather-footed time does swiftly passe,
Or has a sand left in his plenteores [...] glasse,
This is my vote, which to thy Booke shall be,
A just applause [...] to thee an Elegie.
Hen. Glapthorne.
On his deserving Friend, Master Thomas Beedom, and his Poems.
HOw fond is this age growne! 'twill fearce admit,
Distinction betweene ignorance and wit,
Each weares the others habit, neither's knowne,
By the wanted proper dresse, that was its owne.
And every day new Authors doe appeare,
As they the paper Merchants factors were,
And boast themselves the muses sons, when they,
Rime onely for some life-preserving pay.
Expect here no such Author, if thou't looke,
On th' inside more then th'outside of the Booke,
Put on thy judgements eyes, and thou shalt find,
This Authors fancy rich, as was his mind.
W. C.
To his Friend the Author, Master Thomas Beedom before his death, on these his Poems.
THis is the riming Age, no wonder now
To heare Thalia whisling at the plow.
All traffi [...]ke with the Muses, tis well knowne
The Scullers boat can touch at Helicon.
Who quass [...]s not there? doe we not daily see,
Each garded foot-boy belch out Poetrie?
Who so illiterate now, that will r [...]fu [...]e,
For some slight Minion to invoke a muse?
Yet honoured friend doe not imagin I,
In the lest tax [...] by great ability.
I know thee worthy of a [...]etter fame,
Then my best study can afford thy name,
I onely would thy reader this informe,
Such empty nothings are thy muses scorne.
Nor doe I wish [...]im slightly to o'relooke,
The big [...]borne fancy, of thy labour'd Booke;
[Page]For he that scans the Poems that are thine,
Must call them raptures, sacred, and divine.
Thou darling of the muses, in whose qui [...]e,
Thou sha't sing Peans, to Apollo's lyre,
And with his best lov'd Priests in equall state,
Sit justly crown'd, a Poet [...]aureate.
Em. D.
To the Memory of his Ingenious friend, Master Thomas Beedom, and on these his Poems.
TH [...]'s no just reason Friend that I should write,
Vnlesse I [...]ould in swelling sighes indite,
My pregnant griefe, till every line appeares,
A volumne of my sorrow writ in teares.
Each sillable, each accent should afford,
Plenteous expression, as the fullest word,
Of [...]ple and unforc'd laments, till all,
I write attend upon thy Funerall,
As Epice les, till every accen [...] be
An Epitaph, each word an Elegie.
And wer't not for the life of this thy Booke,
(Which gives me hopes, all life has not forsooke.
Thy much lov'd Memory) I like thee should grow,
Ashes, and never henceforth strive to know,
[Page] [...]ifes painted glories, but to injoy thee come;
[...]ith eager hast into Elysium.
But this faire Off-spring of thy fancy which,
Is great in j [...]gement, in Invention rich,
Makes me behold thee glorious, and I view,
By intel [...]ctuall eyes in it, thy true
Vns [...]ained Idea, from her spicie pile,
[...]e n [...]w borne Phenix rises to beguile,
[...]he amazed spectators, whose admiring frame,
[...]he old ones figure, and beleeve't the same.
[...]his difference 'twixt thy Booke, and thee must b [...]e,
[...]hou di'dst with it, and now it lives for thee.
H. S.
[...]
[...]
[Page] Vie [...] of thy shining and illustrious wit,
Where all the precious attributes are writ,
That might adorne thy youth, or adde true grace,
To thy lamented Memorie; the face,
Of the bright rising Sun, so fresh appeares,
When strait tis drown'd, in heavens or [...]estowing teares.
As did thy wit, which like a comet gave
A suddnime flash, then vanished to a grave,
Where we thy friends, and I among the rest,
As a chiefe mourner, in the Ensignes drest
Of hearty sorrow, sadly, seeke to pay,
This as a gratefull tribute, to thy bay,
Which being watred with our briny dew,
Shall still spring up more, flourishing and new.
Till in thy Booke, thy blest memoriall bee,
As is thy soule, fraught with eternitie.
And Beedom, shall survive in it with glory,
It being his owne accomplisht perfect story.
R. W.
On the Memory of his most Ingenious friend, Master Thomas Beedome, and his Poems.
SO many great names fixt before thy Booke,
It cannot Beedome now descend, to looke,
For my more humble straines, but love in Art,
Is not compris'd, its Mansion is the heart.
And a small graine of incense, which is given,
With a pure zeale, sure better pleaseth heaven,
Then a vast pile of rich Sabean gums,
Or Altars smoaking with fat Hecatoms.
From feignd devotion, I must therefore say,
All that my infant Muse, now strives to pay,
Vnto thy worke, shall onely boast to be
A sacrifice to thy lov'd memorie.
Nor doe I hope (as others) to adorne,
With my quaint lines thy Booke, mine were but borne,
[Page]As subjects to thy worth, from whence they strive,
Their utmost fame, and glory to derive.
Their sole ambition being to attend
Thee, with the true devotions of a friend.
Though for thy death I grieve, for this I joy,
That thy faire issue lives, which to destroy,
Time is unable, for thy name shall have,
A glorious life, and tryumph ore thy grave.
J. S.
Elegie, on his Ingenious friend, the deserving Author, Master Thomas Beedome.
HOw silent are the groves? No aire doth move,
To make the boughs each other kisse in love,
Nor doe the leaves (as they had jealous feares)
Whisper into each others joyning eares.
Vpon the branches perch no airie quires,
Whose untaught musicke art it selfe admires,
And by an imitation of those notes,
Strain'd from the slender Organes of their throats,
Adds to it selfe perfection, and thereby,
Shewes natur's weake to artfull industry.
The listning heard their quicke sense doe apply,
Not to the wonted use of eare or eye;
As when harmonious ecchoes doe invite
Attention both to wonder and delight.
As if an apoplexie bad beref [...]
Their Limbes of use, and time meant to conclude,
His being in a g [...]nerall solitude,
Such great effects great causes cannot misse,
And both are [...]quall, both a [...]ke in this.
Not Winte [...]s Is [...]e band (the c [...]illy birth,
Of bl [...]ke North-winds) h [...]ve gray'd the verdant earth,
Or shorne the trees eronnes m [...]king them looke old,
Nor are the tunefull birds grown [...] hoarse with cold.
But Beedome losse hath wonne on their consent,
To share a voluntary punishment;
The Aire in boistrous gusts [...] the stout Oke bends,
And his large spreading armes from th'body r [...]nds.
That gro [...]ne for Beedome as they fall away,
Who in his barke carv'd many a learned lay,
The birds are voicelesse 'cause they cannot heare
The wonted musicke of his well-inn'd spheare.
Whence they derive our skill knowing na [...]u [...]e can
Lesse wonder shew in them, then Art in man,
For him sense-grieved beasts, sad mourners be,
By an instinct or hidden Sympathie.
And had all-changing time heard Beedome sing,
He would have knowne no season but the Spring,
Nor would he sure have suffered death to be,
Iudge in the cause of his mortalitie.
[Page] But have repriev'd his lov'd parts from the Bar,
Till by translation they were made a Star.
Muses unite your tear [...]s, now he is gone,
With them creating a new Helicon.
Whose streames may the defect of yours supply,
Which Beedome whilst he liv'd, dranke almost dry:
And by the power of his owne active fire,
Sublim'd to that your selves may well admire,
Which to his vertue j [...]yn'd conclude him thus,
Still l [...]ving through them, both to heaven and us;
Tho. Nabbes.
In obitum Lachrymabilem, Thomas Beedome, nuper defuncti, et in praeclara ingenii sui Monumenta, jam primum edita.
SIccine crudeli cecidisti morte peremptus?
siccine in extremos, juslus es ire rogos?
Et vix ingressus teneros lanuginis annos;
Corruis ante diem, blande Bedome, tuum.
Quid iuvat, ut tremulis cecinisti docta Camae [...]is
[...]a [...]mina? Threiciae digna legenda lyrae?
Qui [...]ne quod auricomum cinxisset pennula frontem?
V [...]brass [...]que tuas laurus amica g [...]nas;
Omnia cum nostri sint haec monumenta doloris:
Quantaque virtus erat, tantus eritque dolor.
Sic in E [...]lthreo pretiosam littore concham
Cum perdat; Lach [...]ymis prostruit Indus humum.
Si [...]q [...]e super tumulum plorantia lumina salsis
Opprimimus fluviis: noxque fit atradles;
[...] tamen irriguis guttas sol [...]amus o [...]ellis?
Curve sl [...]it gemitus noster ab ore citus,
Tene pe [...] altithroni sequerentur gaudia luctus?
Tere pe [...] astri [...]eram quaereret unda domum!
Non p [...]it assiduos sanctorum mansio planctus;
Convenit haud liquidis stamise [...] ignis aquis.
[Page]Non opus interea est tantam destere ruinam
Opprimet et tantum multa runia virum
I nunc magni [...]icos jactato tyranne triumphos,
Mors, et depictis pende trophoea tholis,
Quam fragiles ictus contemptibilesque sagittae
Sunt, nec vulneribus laedis ut ante tiuis
Dulcisoquis volutans juvenis super aethera scriptis
Vivit in aurato nomen opusque libro.
Atque triumphales redimunt sua tempora vittae;
Victor adest mortis, fame perenn [...]s erit.
Vivit enim certi Immutato pectore amici
Nec potuit tumulo nobiliore frul.
Henry Glapthorne.
Elegie on the death of his ingenious friend, the deserving Author, Mast [...]r Thom [...]s Beedome.
ONce I resolv'd a silence, was coment,
With the rare Fabricke [...]f thy Monument,
View'd it compleat, how every friend had strove,
T'exceed each other in a zealous lo [...]e
To thy blest memory, and I smil [...]d to see,
Thy name thus rap [...]in immortalitie,
Yet payd [...]the [...] tribute, teares let fall
As numerous drops at thy sad Funerall.
As did that friend whose pregnant Muse dares vie,
With griefe it selfe to weepe thy Ele [...]ie;
Yet durst not write, my jealousie was such,
It wisely prompt me, I should wrong too much
Thy greater merit [...] had me rather mourne,
In griefe lov'd silence ore thy quiet urne;
[Page] Which I had done, had I not seem'd to heare,
(Once at the offering of a tribute teare.
To thy lov'd ashes) a strange murmuring breath,
Breake forth from the still tenement of death,
Thy dismall grave, and in a Language full,
Of incens'd anger, vow to disan [...]ll
All former friendship, if I should denie,
Mongst other friends to write thy Elegie;
When thus ambiguous twixt my love and feares,
I vented this [...] attended with my teares.
Strong course of Fate, could he whose generous quill
Bestow'd a life on others, which else still,
Had Laine death's ruines, die himselfe; could he,
Whose powerfull Art spight of sterne destinie,
Broake up forgotten Monuments [...] and made
The intomb'd Heroes live againe, that swaide
Ore others Fates, yet could this halfe-god [...]eepe,
Into a grave, and in cold Marble sleepe.
What tribe of Angels did invite thee hence,
Their glorious guest? If not, what curst offence,
Hath fond earth given thee? That thou needs must [...]tye,
So young from us, to heavens eternitie.
Or did thy precious soule shake off its clay,
Cause nought below was worthy of her stay,
And being matchlesse here, did upward move,
There to be rank'd with equall Saints above.
[Page] Sure thus it was, and undeserving we,
May tax our merit; not thy destinie,
Yet glorious Beedome, though each friend appeares,
Almost thy Emblem, made so by his teares,
For thy lamented losse, yet when we looke
On this immortall child of wit, thy booke;
Smiles from our [...]h [...]ekes, all suner all teares doe drive,
Seeing in it thy fame shall ever live.
Time and thy Memory, which no fate can sever,
Shall last like ages, both conclude together.
Em. D.
On the Poems of the Author, his deare Brother, Master Thomas Beedom deceased.
SIlence would best become me, and I feare,
I spoile the consort by intrusion heere.
Tis true, I need not adde unto his praise,
Nor bring my sprig to complement his bayes;
But that the neerenesse of our birth and name,
Calls me to sticke my pinion to his fame.
Then Reader know, we have not us'd our brains,
To usher in absurd, uncivill straines;
Such as might pale the Paper, blacke the Inke,
And cause the ghost of our dead friend to shrinke.
No no, tis otherwise here thou mayst learne
Thy morall duty, and it will appeare,
M [...]yst please thy God, as well as please thine eare.
He needs must say, that will his worth commend,
He was an Academie in his friend.
And ready was (requested) to supply,
His need with soule, or bodies remedy.
Fran. Beedome.
THE IEALOUS LOVER, OR, THE CONSTANT MAID. Written by T. B.
—Sat est pro laude Voluptas.—
LONDON: Printed by E. P. for Iohn Sweeting, and are to be sold at his Shop, at the signe of the Angel, in Popes-head-Alley, neer Cornhill. 1641.
[Page]THE AUTHOR, TO the READER.
WHen Johnson, Drayton, and those happier men
That can drop wonders from their fluent Pen:
Have with their miracles of Poetry
Feasted thy eares and satisfi'd thy eye;
Then turne aside, and 'mongst the vulgar things,
Place what my new-borne Muse abruptly sings.
[Page] Which though it be but meane (as tis confest)
'T hath ventured hard to please thee, since tis prest.
If thou smile on it, I shall thinke my braine
Hath labour'd for this issue not in vaine,
If otherwise thou doe contemne my layes,
My pleasur's more to me, then all thy praise.
—Sat est pro laude Voluptas.—
Vale. THOMAS BEEDOME.
THE IEALOVS LOVER, OR, THE CONSTANT MAID.
WHat time the noble Britaine did resist,
And va [...]quish Roman Caesar with his hoast,
Who when he felt their fu [...]y did desist,
And fled from Albions white-wave-washed coast:
Where the stout Brittaines dy'd with Roman blood,
The Sea-greene face of the tumultuous stood.
There dwelt an antient honourable man,
Nere Sabrin's shore who was Cremillus hight,
In two faire twins his Off spring fi [...]st began,
A son and daughter brought at once to light:
Whose beau [...]ies with their vertues vy'd in growth,
Which should most grace their infancy and youth.
His son Cherillus, but his fairer daughter,
He nam'd Pandora: did you never view,
The liquid Ch [...]istall of a running water,
Streame through some guilded field, where all things new,
[Page] The spring had made, to such a place this Maid
Vnhappily (now growne a great one) st [...]ai'd.
And while her eyes on the moyst Element
Did cast their be [...]mes, another sh [...]pe she spy'd,
Far above hers, on whom such lives were spent,
In Troy, for whom so many Hero's dy'd:
This shape the fairest sure, that er'e was showne,
Was but a meere reflexion of her owne.
While thus she gaz'd on her owne shade, she thought,
Oh that I might leape in, and seaze yon prize!
It were by death an easie purchase bought,
For who would live, if not in yonder eyes?
Narcissus so himselfe himselfe for sooke,
A [...]d dy'd to see his shadow in a brooke.
As yet the toy we call a Looking-glasse,
Wherein our siner Dames behold their faces,
Did rest unknown, else t'had not com [...] to passe,
That this bright Maid repleat with all the graces,
Had in an Extasie thus stood amaz'd,
While onely on her lively selfe she gaz'd.
Still as she lookt, she wish [...] some gentle fish
Might now as once Arion it did, beare
Her on the friendly waves, but oh her wish
Could not implore an ayde from any there.
For they stood wondring that the earth could show
A [...]righter Nymph then Neptune could below.
One while she was resolv'd t' assay the water,
And so salute the thing she thought alive:
But then she poiz'd the danger that came after,
Lest she perhaps might never more survive:
Thus betweene joy and feare amaz'd she stood,
Viewing the wonders of the silver stood.
And as it chanc't to shade her from the Sun,
Vnto her brighter face she rai'd her hand,
She thought her shade did beckon her to come
To Theti [...] A [...]bor, and fors [...]ke the Land:
Who had done so, had not a neigh ouring brier,
Seiz'd her lov'd coat, and made her so retire.
Injurious weed (quoth she) why hast thou staid
Me from a happinesse I might have had?
Receive the just curse of a spotlesse Maid,
Mayst thou be henceforth held a thing so bad,
So rough, that all may hate thee: thus having sed,
It since remaines with prickles overspred.
By this, Cherillus, who had long time since
Follow'd sterne Mars, in the blacke field of wars,
Was home return'd from service of his Prince,
But wearing the true souldiers colours, scars:
And time, to doe him now the greater grace,
Had grafted well-set haires upon his face.
Who as he past along, and seeing her,
Whom he not knew, (such difference time had made)
To teach him after war the woing trade:
He leanes his hand upon his p [...]m [...]ll straight,
And eas'd his [...]er of its noble waight.
Fa [...]er then I can sp [...]ke (thus he began)
Whose presence make [...] th [...] place the Elisian fields,
Why hast thou robb'd all whitenesse from the Swan,
And stole that colour which the Corall yeilds?
Why from thy head flowes such a golden traine,
That thou alone are all thy Sexes staine?
Why [...]-halls thy breasts appeare,
Whiter then Laeda; in her Vi [...]gin [...]ew?
Why dost thou [...] spring through all the yeare,
And by thy [...] the earth still new?
Why doe those [...] thy eyes, exceed yo [...] higher,
And Phoe [...]us thence draw all his [...]ight and fire?
Why art thou all so [...]xquisite, that art
Though joyn'd with [...] height of [...]kill,
Would draw so [...]ne [...] form'd in every part,
Not worth description from the meanest quill,
If bu [...] compar'd with that rare so me of thine?
For thou ca [...]st be no lesse then all divine.
Daigne Goddesse, (for I know thou art no lesse)
T' immortelize me in thy heavenly love,
By thy [...] grant thy Deity expresse,
So thou shalt make me happier then love:
[Page] Could make himselfe, when in a golden shower,
He pierc't the roo [...]e of his lov'd Danacs Tower.
Thus as he spake, he seiz'd her [...]illy hand,
Which s [...]em'd within his warming [...] to melt,
But with us s [...]owy touch h [...] [...] stand,
As it had [...] into his bosome de [...]:
Her modest face like the now dro [...]ping Rose,
Lookt toward earth from whence is [...] a [...]ose.
And have you never seene the ty [...]ed Hare,
Stand trembling at the Hunters hollow cry,
Cha [...]'t by the Dogges, could no where now repaire,
Where it conceiv'd not certainly to dye:
Even so Pandora trembles while she heares
His words, which moved nothing but her feare [...].
[...]he feares the st [...]angers heats, begot from lust,
And so might dare t'inf [...]inge her Virgins Zone,
And tis no small addition to mistrust,
To thinke how n [...]w th [...]y onely are alone.
At such a time [...]oule Tarquin ravishe thee,
Faire Lucrece, back [...] by opportunitie.
[...]hou need'st not feare fond Girle a wanton flame,
[...]ome live in him who is indeed no other,
Then the joint partener that with thee came,
[...] the rich wombe of thy all vertuous mo [...]he [...]:
Tis [...] one spring should send forth various wa [...]e
He's a chast son, and thou as chast a daughter.
Thus after many a pause, her panting spirit,
Which all this while lay secret and retir'd,
Gave leav [...], [...]s eares should now her breath inherir,
Then which, Cherillus nothing more desir'd:
Twice she began, still f [...]om her purpose brake,
At last she op't her Corall lips, and spake.
Sir, you much injure others in the worth,
Which yo [...]'r misprizing judgement sets on me,
Since thousands more are every way set forth,
With richer beauties then you here can see.
Tis lesse then just, your Complement should raise
Me past the Centre of a common praise.
If this were true, Philorus had small cause,
To fly from what herwisheth to embrace,
For still his love finds some reserved clause,
(Perhaps some straines in my lesse comely face)
Or else perhaps suspition may move
His thoughts to run the jealous maze of love.
B [...]t as it will, know Sir, tha [...] I have vow'd,
My faith shall still lay anchor in his heart,
Nor other love shall ever be allow'd,
To claime in me the meanest, smallest, part:
But onely my Philorus, to whose eyes
My panting heart doth offer sacrifice.
T'is not my aime to traine you in a hope,
That you may conquer what I ne're will yield:
[Page] My leave is free, [...] your scope,
To win the honor of som [...] o [...]her field:
My fort already summon'd, did accord,
To be the captive of another Lord.
Therefore if you are noble, as you seeme,
Surrender what you k [...]ep [...] so fast, my hand:
No better then a thiefe we him esteeme,
Who wrongfully keeps backe anothers Land:
The crime's augmented, wh [...]n tis clearly knowne,
That what he doth detaine, is not his owne.
Looke how [...] guilty p [...]isoner a [...] the bar,
Is startled with the sentence of his death:
So poore Cherillus, or more fearfull far,
Shakes at the so and of her condemning breath:
Her voice astonish' [...] valot deepe then,
Than [...]ertofore an armed hoast of men.
Denyall from some other might admit,
At least the party power to reply;
But in this ra [...]e posi [...]ion of her wit,
All adverse contradictions seeme to dye.
For if Pandora once deny thee, know,
All negatives are bounded in her no.
He whose bold hand durst venter for a prize,
Against opposed Armies clad in steele,
Quakes like a coward, while her conquering eyes
Enforce his recreant courage backward reele.
[Page] Her powerfull lookes dart forth such awfull charmes,
As might subdue wars God, though in his armes.
Cupid, [...]hy force is foi [...]d, not all thy might
Can m [...]ke thy new-made Champion on to venture;
O if he durst, her frowne in thy despight,
Would kill me youngster ere he once could enter:
There' [...] not an arrow from thy bow doth flie,
Can pierce, if [...] not poynted with her eye.
Leave off thy dolorous way of pricking hearts,
Why dost thou put poore love [...]s to such paine?
Why d [...]st thou spend thy stocke to purchase dar [...]s?
Hadst thou thy sight, thou'st nere doe so againe.
Were there a world of Cupids, by her eyes
Shee'd bring to every one a severall prize.
Cherillus thus by chast Pandora taught
Nobly desists, from what he durst not claime;
Nor did he now so much as owne a thought,
Of what before he m [...]de his greatest [...].
Onely in pa [...]ting 'twas his chiefest blisse,
When words were uselesse, to obtaine a kisse.
Which modestly was granted, for the name
Of [...] infring'd, had the deny'd:
Hap'es [...] I h [...]to us in the instant came
VV [...]o swe [...]'d [...] another man divide
H [...] joyes in h [...], who having this obtain'd
His thoughts possesse him he might more have gain'd.
VVherefore (the other being gon) he said,
D [...]luding Syren, Angell, but [...] shew;
Thou hast in this thy slaming lust bet [...] a [...]'d,
[...] in a hope that I should never know.
Yet frehe Go [...]s h [...]ve [...]ustly six [...] the time
That thy false lip [...] gave seale unto my crime.
As if thy leave were li [...]nst to abuse [...]
Thy friend, so he might satisfie by lust:
Oh tell me, what delasions didst hou use
To worke him to the mischie [...]e; son he durst
Naked as well have hugd a Scorpion
As thee, hadst thou not train'd the tray [...]or on.
Oh! who durst sacrile giously steale
Ought from that heavenly temple of thy face,
Wert thou not privy, didst [...]hou not reveale
How he might doe to rob thee of thy grace?
And yet me thinkes that face keepes still in store
Sufficient graces for a thousand more.
But oh it is too manifest! my eyes
Are able witnesses of the deceit,
And this yet more suspi [...]ion satisfies,
How at my onset he made his retreat
And tis the act of guilt to take its flight
When once it is discovered by our sight.
Accurst creator of thy lasting shame,
VVhy hath thy last out-wo [...]n [...] thy fleeting love?
[Page] Why dost thou willing wound my bleeding fame
And afte [...] all thy [...]aches a recreant prove?
Gape earth, receive this Candid devill in,
Lest the infect more angells with her sin.
Oh! hadst thou beene ambitious, to have tasted
Variety in pl [...]sures then, oh then,
Thou mightst have st [...]died how to have them lasted,
By yeelding up thy fame to severall men:
And nere have falsly vow'd thy faith to one,
Which impa [...]dence darst sweare was me alone.
Speake, Traytor to thy honour and thy friend,
What plaster canst thou make to heale this sore?
Or what excuse can on thy crime attend?
Oh see thy guile now blushes more and more!
As if that [...]ne which thou worldst faine denie,
Were printed there before my reading eye.
Wherefore I now will study to be free,
My thralled heart shall stand no longer bound,
The despis'd servant of thy faith and thee,
I leave neglected what with joy I found.
This fatall m [...]nu [...]e shall our loves dissever,
So false Pandora, here farewell for ever.
This said, Philorus from [...]he Virgin flyes,
While the (poo [...]e hear [...]) was drowned in the flou [...]
Of [...]eares, [...] like a sea sprung from her eyes,
And watred all the earth whereon she stood.
[Page] Who like poore stone-turn'd Niobe did stand,
A floating statue on the moving Land.
The neighbouring river mourn'd to heare her fate,
The blustring winds did chide the hollow trees,
While they consulting to participate
Her griefe, doe all their verdant garments leese.
The bi [...]ds tell heaven, and heaven to shew its pitty.
Bid Philomela sing a mournfull Ditty.
A Poet then imploring of the Nine,
To lend him ayd her story to indite;
Melpomene said, no, this worke is mine,
But griefe deni [...]s me power how to write.
Thus she that can write buskin-deepe in blood,
Is drown'd with our Pandora in this [...]lood.
Oh griefe, if ever mourning did become
Thy meager face, 'twas when Pandora [...]ept;
She numbred up her sighes beyon [...] ali sum,
And sorrowes Court within her countenance kept,
She was compos'd of dolor, and in briefe,
The liveliest Emblem of the perfectst griefe.
Ah false Philorus, didst thou see those teares,
Which thy chast love poures forth in thy dislike;
The obj [...]ct would a f [...]right thy jealous feares,
And to thy heart an awfull reverence strike.
[...]arth never bore a subject of more ru [...]h
Then this, who suffers onely for her truth.
VVhen the salt flood had drawne the fountaine dry,
That scarce another teare could find a vent,
Nor was there hope of any new supply,
Since all her moisture was consum'd and spent:
Sill to her griefe fresh matter she affords,
As then in teares, so now she weepes in words.
VVherefore (quoth she) blind Love didst thou enthrall
My faith so namely to Philorus soule?
On if thou canst, my sealed pledge recall,
Since my Philorus thinkes Pandora foule.
Yet witnesse heaven, I am as pure as Aire,
Diana's not more chast, although more faire.
The congeal'd snow upon the Alpin Mountaine
Retaines as much of her as my brest,
And in the coole spring of a Chrystall fountaine
As much desire, as in my heart doth [...]est.
Oh jealousie, why should Philorus thinke
The Candid paper blacker then the Inke?
VVhat sin (good Gods) have wretched: committed,
That you should thunder vengeance on my head?
Yet all my suffrings of my Love unpittied:
Blush Sol, at this unjustice hide thy head:
For if thou spie my wrongs, they would require
Thou should'st in their revenge scourge earth by fier.
VVhy nature did thy choicer hand create
Me to a forme by some [...] excellent?
[Page] Since what was purpos'd to my best of fate
Prepostrously turnes to my detriment?
Oh who then me was ever more accurst,
VVhose seeming best is chang'd to reall worst
Oh hadst thou cheated me of some one limbe,
De [...]orm'd my face, or rob'd me of an eye,
I nere had beene thought guilty of a sin,
Nor given occasion to this jealousie.
Those that are foule still unsuspected go,
VVhile fair ones (though more chast) are not thought so.
Happy are you in whose creation
Banisht perfection was an absent stranger:
But think how much hath beauty of temptation,
And then you'l blesse the Gods you'r out of danger.
VVhere various flowers in the garden grow [...]e,
VVe passe the bramble, but plucke up the [...]ose.
Yet grant that [...]orme be thought a happinesse
VVhich doth against temptations batteries vie,
Beauty though it come off with good successe,
[...] wounded straight by poysonous jealousie.
Thus like a Monster mischiefe doth pursue it.
And no endeavours can at all eschew it.
Now sorrowfull Pandora takes her way
Through the thick woods (which is a large procession
No matter where, griefe cannot go ast [...]ay,
Since she h [...]th vow'd perpetuall progression
[Page]Till the may once more her P'bilorus spye,
Which but perform'd, it were a blisse to dye.
Death now were welcome, were Philorus pleas'd;
To dye ere that, were torture in the grave,
Lest angry he by jealousie diseas'd,
Should after death against her ashes rave,
Or lest her ghost which hourely must come see him,
He fright with frownes, and so inforce it slee him.
Heere unfrequented, save with savage beasts,
She spends the [...]a [...]ous minutes of her age;
Her eyes upon the severall sights she feasts,
While sorrow triumphs in her equipage:
The greedy earth cast off her covering grasse,
To looke upon her as she by did passe.
The savage Tyger when it came her neare,
Stoop't to the splendor of her conquering eyes:
The tusked Bore that broke Adon [...]s sp [...]are,
Croucht downe to her, whose mercy bid it rise:
Who then in duty gently to her came,
And hence it is that some have since beene tame.
The winged birds from heaven came downe in qui [...]es,
Each one by turne did sing his [...]ounde-lay,
Whose a [...]ery notes still up againe aspires,
Which being ended each bird flyes away,
To g [...]t n [...]w Songs: thus by their various layes,
Each steales a little sorrow from the dayes.
The [...]ow-growne gentle Satyres did invite
The wood Nymphes to compose a measur'd dance,
Each thing affords some matter of delight,
As glad her downe-cast look [...]s they might advance:
The little E [...]min can afford its skin,
From the cold Aire to wrap her hands therein.
The trees did gladly spread their open a [...]mes,
To sh [...]de her roses from the blowing wind,
And lapt their leaves so close, no sco [...]ching harmes
Could burne her lillies when Apollo shin'd.
The pittying [...]ezor when it heard her grone,
Lest she should faint, bites out his Cordiall stone.
By chance a pin her tender finger prick [...],
At which there startled out a drop of blood,
The which as soone as from it she had lickt,
The trees wept balsam for her greater good.
Still as she sigh'd, the friendly Vnicorne
Osters that precious Antidote, his horne.
The hunger-bitten Lyon greedy came,
Thinking to seaze her body for a pray,
But when he saw her, straight was turned tame,
And at her feet for mercy prostrate lay.
While his dumbe reve [...]ence seem'd to tell the Mai [...],
He mourn'd to thinke how he made her afraid.
Thus like the Queene of earth she sate admir'd
By these, the senselesse subjects of the wood,
[Page]Onely the Monster-griefe had not retired,
But by its fury feasted on her blood.
VVhile thus to give these notice of her wrong,
She vents her sorrow in this following Song.
The Song.
My Philorus is unkind
H [...]w should I choose b [...] g [...]ieve at that
VVhat joy, what comfort can I have,
Save in a wisht-for, timelesse grave.
Since all my hop [...]s are dead in him [...]
He can giv [...] [...]ase to this my m [...]oan,
And bu [...] in him I can have none.
Pitty, pitty, gentl [...] Love,
For griefe enough torm [...]nts my heart.
VVhy shouldst tho [...] pitty me since I
VVi [...]hout Philo [...]us living dye?
There is no hope I m [...]y revive,
For jealous thoughts possesse his mind:
How should Philorus then be kind?
Answe [...] heaven, is this just,
That he that [...]ves should jealous be?
Is there union with the Gods
That place in mortall soules such oddes?
[Page]Mortality will curse the Fates.
Let all chast Lovers weep with me,
And in these streams drown jealousie.
Overcomming so the siend
Love may knit our hearts in one;
Oh that the conquest now were won [...]
So were all my sorrowes done,
Which must else for aye abide;
Then might I injoy my love,
Whose neglect these passions move.
Otherwise it' the decreed [...]
That griefe in love must end my life,
Let (gentle Gods) I hilorus know
Though thought unchast, I am not so.
So when I sleep within my V [...]n [...]
'Twill be my comfort to have dy'd,
Since his suspition's satisfi'd.
Some two yards hence a neighboring thicket grew,
Where languishing Philorus us'd to lye,
Who when he heard this Dirty, straightway knew,
Love-wrohg'd Pandora did complaine thereby.
Wherefore once more to try her constant saith,
Disguis'd he enters to her, and thus saith.
Why darlng mortall, art thou bold to presse
Nere these untroden kingdomes? in these Groves
[Page]Can savage creatures succor the distresse
Of whining Virgins for their absent Loves?
Can senseles earth tell how to ease thy griefe,
Or can the blust [...]ing winds blow thee reliefe?
Where canst thou house thy self, where wilt thou dwell?
When Hye [...] rageth, whence wilt thou get fi [...]e?
In all these woods I know, save my one Cell,
No place where thou distressed canst retire.
Canst thou eate grasse, or look' [...]t thou to be fed
With le [...]s [...]or flesh, and rocks or stones for bread?
[...] love me [...]est, and by strength of arme
From the wild creatures I will rend their pray,
By sacred spells of my inchanting charme.
He force Pomona her sweet fruits to pay.
C [...]e [...] shall now study to make a birth
Of ripened corne in this untilled earth.
To gratifie this Love young Ganimede,
When love's a [...] shall steale a [...]ou [...]ny downe:
And at thy gorgeous table when 'tis spread,
Shall thy full cups with heavenly Nectar crowne.
Instead of Oakes round whom the Ivy twines,
Bacchus shall plant the Wine-begetting Vines.
Thou shalt drinke Lethe and forget thy love,
Since he so coldly m [...]eres thy zealous fires,
What reason i'st thou shouldst so constant prove,
To him that sees, and yet slights thy desires?
[Page]Faire Maid unlocke thy lips, and let me know
Thy instant grant, for [...] admit no [...]o.
First then (quoth she) let death dispatch a d [...]t,
And ayme the fatall p [...]y [...]t against my breast,
Or else swell high my griefe and split my heart,
So shall my virgin ghost in quiet rest,
Ah my Philorus, wherefoere thou be,
This woe's begotten from thy jealousie.
[...]ase man desist, or els [...] w [...]a [...] you stile faire,
Your foming lust shall hideously ass [...]ight,
He hang my selfe within my flowing ha [...]e,
Ere thou shalt touch Philorus deare delight [...]
And after death my ghost shall [...]ack [...] thy sense,
Ther's no worse plague then guilt of conscience
At this he backward mov'd his gentle pace,
And scarce his manly eyes from teares forbeare,
His sor [...]ow now was w [...]tten in his face,
The which he had least [...]h [...] might read it there.
His heart now [...] to see the mo [...]ning Maid,
While thus unto himselfe he softly said.
Heavens milkie way may sooner be p [...]oph [...]'d
By spurious [...]eet, the Phoenix though but [...]ne
Be found no virgin, and [...] is nam'd,
Sacred, may suffer prophanation,
The Sun forget his way into the West,
And drive his teame into the North to rest.
[Page]The Swan may change his whitenesse with the Crow,
Diana be a common prostitute,
And dirt may weare a whiter face then snow,
Vesta may Vestas Temple now pollute.
Proposterous Nature may bring forth a birth
Of fishes swimming in the solid earth.
Fier and water may embrace each other,
And then u [...]i [...]ed both make up one flame.
And Iove may change his Thron with his black brother,
The Furies may obtaine a milder name.
The Wolfe and Lamb may from the selfe-same dug
Draw milke, and then each other friendly hug:
The generous Lion may exchange his heart,
For the weake courage or the [...]morous Hate,
The fixed staires may from their stations part,
And false-hood upon earth may become ra [...]e.
What ere is cald impossible, may spring
To be as copious as the commonst thing.
Chastities selfe may yeeld to strong temptation,
Ice may be tickled with a wanton heate,
[...]he Ethiop changed to a milke white Nation,
[...]nd Manna may become the damneds meate:
E [...]e my Pandora can give up her name
To be the common place of publike sham [...].
[...] [...]all Affections that are plac't in man.
[...] is jealousie that makes him most accurst:
[Page] [...]at makes a Raven of the snowye Swan,
[...]d what is simply pure, that faineth worst.
Hence loath'd suspition thou no more shalt find,
An easie welcome to my credulous mind.
[...]r if Pandora should decline from good,
[...]nd intertaine one single thought of sin,
[...]hould the least warmth dissolve her frozen blood,
[...] in one breath should she draw poyson in,
Heavens finding spots in this rich pearle of theirs,
Would give me notice of it by their teares.
The glorious Sun who heretofore was proud
[...]n his swift course, to stand and gaze upon her,
Would frowne, and wrap his beauty in a cloud,
To give me notice of her great dishonor.
Her crime though private, cannot scape my sence,
Since heaven-must needs give me intelligence.
With that he turning to her (fai [...]e [...] quoth he,)
Could you forgive Philorus j [...]aloasie,
Did her repent? while straight replyed she,
Else let me heaven without thy mercy die.
Loe then his perfect shape I here discover,
Who now growes proud of such a constant Lover [...]
Blest Heaven! in what an amorous twine th [...]y twist,
As if both bodies were compact in o [...]:
And while she wept, joyfull Philorus kist
The chastest lips that ere crea [...]ion
[Page]Could boast: else all these stormes had driven
Her faith from him as farre, as hell from heaven.
When love and wonder gave them leave to speake,
Each did [...]ety their soules to th'others breast,
Which knot suspition shall want power to breake,
Since he doth now his former thoughts detest.
Now joy lends wings while both together flie
And tell her father all this historie.
Which having heard, he payes heavens thanks in tears,
That had resto [...]'d the jewell which he lost,
And now acquited all those dismall feares,
Which had so many we [...]ping minutes lost.
Blushing Cherillus now salutes his sister,
And [...]hanks the God [...] that he unknown had mist her.
All so [...]row now is wip't from every eye,
The [...]'s not a face that weares a mournfull looke.
Laughte triumphs, while meager griefe doth dye,
As if fate had display'd some [...]o [...]und book [...],
VVhich the by-standers reading, joy to see
How there their joy's writ for eternitie.
Her father now [...] th [...]ir equall fires,
Since Hymen pi [...]e of Fate did [...]o command.
[Page]All union liv'd in their conjoynt desires,
Each soule lay pawnd in to' the [...]s plighted hand,
Where they rest happy; thus those Loves doe thrive,
VVhom Chastity through stormes s [...]ill keepes alive.
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
FINIS.
[Page]POEMS.
To his Mist [...]esse, when shee was going into the Country.
YEs, yes, it must be so, but must there be,
When you depart, no memory had of mee,
My soule being rack't as large a distance too
To meete you there, as I must be from you,
While the glad spring for joy you shall be seene
Meete your approach, and cloath her selfe in greene.
And the fresh morning to salute your rise,
Bedewes the ground from it's o'rejoyed eyes,
For joy like griese, we know, sometimes appeares,
Writ on our cheeke [...], with characters of teares.
Goe and be happy, goe, and when you see
The trusty Ivy claspe it's much loved tree,
And with it's amorous in twinings cover
The welcome waste of it's imbraced lover:
Thinke it our Embleme then, and prov'd to be
The happy shadow of my love and mee.
Goe and be happy, and when some sweet brookes
(Calme as thy thoughts, and smooth as are thy lookes)
Show thee thy face, thou let thy thoughts supply
And though I be not thinke that I am by;
I must be by thee, be thou where thou can.
Goe, and when pretty birds on some small spray,
Neere to thy window welcome in the day:
Awake, and thinke, when their sweete notes you heare.
I was before-hand, and had sung them there.
Goe, and whate're thou chance to heare or see,
Be it bird, or brooke, or shade of tree;
If it delights thee, may my soule in it
Move thy true joyes under that counterfeit.
So, aske not how I doe when you are there,
For at your mercy well or ill I fare.
For now me thinkes my heart so high doth swell,
It must inforce a breath, farewell, farewell.
The Knell.
When the sad tolling of my bell you heare,
Thinke [...]is some Angells trumpe, and Judgments neere
Then if but to repent, you take the paine,
Your judgements past, lye downe and sleepe ag [...]ine.
The Perfume.
Not that I thinke thy breath lesse sweete than this,
Thy breath, in which no pleasant sweets I misse,
Not that I thinke thy whi [...]e, than this lesse faire,
Thy white, to which all whites but blacknesse are:
Not that I thinke thy heart, than this lesse pure,
Thy heart, which [...]o dull mixture can indure,
Send I this to th [...], but as gold well try'd,
Admi [...]s allay when it is purifi'd,
[Page]So by this foyle I would to thee impart
What is thy breath, thy whitenesse, and thy heart,
Thy breath, all perfumes, doth as saue out-goe,
As doth thy whitenesse, the descending, snow;
The snow descends, but by the winds being blowne,
Thy sweeter breath, and whiter snows, thine owne:
Thy heart lesse mixt than the sole Phoenix bed,
Proclaimes thee mistresse of a Maiden head,
And so there were no ashes after [...]ire,
Would that were conquer'd in my love [...] desire
But if there be, why can it not suffice?
That one being dead another Phoenix rise.
Thy maiden head being gone, we still shall prove,
Both being one unparalell'd in love,
But I have riddl'd, let me now unfold,
What is the perfume, what the snow, what gold;
All this, and each of these, thou know [...]st thou art,
And I should know more, did I know thy heart.
To his Mistresse on her scorne.
Resolve mee dearest, why two hea [...]ts in one
Should know the sinne of separation.
Must the sweete custome of our oft stolne kisse,
Be lost, and wee live empty of those blisses:
Or do the stownes of some old over seer
Nourish thy feare, or make thy love lesse freer?
Why did'st thou suffer mee those sweets to steale,
Which but thine own, no tongue can e're reveale,
And prompt mee to a daring, to beleeve,
That my sad heart should find no cause to grieve:
Yet now at last hast mockt my hope so farre,
That I have [...]ot a cloud [...] though meant a starre [...]
[Page]Well, take thy tryumph, study but to be
True to thy selfe, as thou art false to mee.
And thou shalt meet a conquest, yet when I
Have groan'd unto the world my Elegy,
And thy unjust disdaine, perhaps I shall
Obtaine this honour in my funerall.
Thy poysonous guilt mixt with thy purged breath,
May make thee with [...] with mee unto death:
So shall I triumph in my Ashes too,
In that my innocence hath conquer'd you,
And then my eye rejoyce, in that I have
Thy scorne, to be a mourner at my grave.
The Question and Answer.
WHen the sad [...]ines of that face
In it's owne wrinkles buried lyes,
And the stiffe pride of all it's grace
By time undone, [...]als [...]lacke and dyes:
Wilt not thou sigh, and wish in some vext fit,
The it were now as when I courted it.
And when thy glasse shall it present,
Without those smiles which once were there,
Showing like some stale monument,
A scalpe departed from it's haire,
At thy selfe frighted wilt not start and swea [...]e
That I beleeved thee, when I call'd thee faire?
Yes, yes, I know thou wilt, and so
Pitty the weakness [...] [...] [...]
[Page]That now hath humbled thee to know,
Though fai [...]e it was, it is forlorne,
Loves sweetes, thy aged corps, embalming not,
What marvell if thy carkasse beauty [...]ot.
Then shall I live, and live to be
Thy envie, thou my pitty; say
When e're thou see mee, or I thee,
(Being nighted from thy beauties day)
'Tis hee, and had my pride not wither'd mee,
I had, perhaps, beene still as fresh as hee.
Then shall I smile, and answer [...] thy scorne
Left thee thus wrinkled, slack't, corrupt, [...]orlorne.
The new Petition.
Apollo once disdained not to keepe,
So he might keepe, his love Admetu [...] sheepe.
The distaffe Hercules did exercise,
T'extract a smile from his deare Ladies eyes:
Olympicke Joane disdained not to take
A bull's effigies for Europus sake:
A chilles fitter farre to deale with steele,
Did labour for his Mistresse at the reele.
Love spar'd Leander his pledg'd saith to save,
Died, hugging in his armes the murdering wave,
Whil'st a new death his Heroe doth devise,
And drownd her selfe ith Ocean of her eyes.
By Pyramus, the world did understand
That love and life, lay linked hand in hand.
[Page]When one was lost in Thisbe, th'other flew,
Through the peirc't po [...]tals of his wound, yet new;
Which when his Thisbe saw, 'tis hard to say,
Whose spirit posted fastest on the way.
Thus some dejection, others did invade
Great opposition, and have willingly laid,
Their lives at needlesse hazzard, some have died,
And so have to the utmost satisfied
What tyrant love could force, and beyond this,
The great and true non ultra fixed is.
Yet happy this, since what so c're they tryed,
Was on their Mistresse part regratified.
Oh who would, when he saw an equall flame
Of love in her he lov'd, ow [...] so much shame
As to [...] his life, if her least griefe,
Did but invite his blood for her reliefe
But this lorenamed courteous Ghost; can beare
Mee witnesse, I have shed full many a teate,
Spoke the best language, Rhetoricke affords,
I [...]mb [...]d out my heart even to the life in words,
Would, what they did, did like occasion proffer,
And till that, do I can no more, but offer.
And yet for all my sufferings, shee that is,
If I [...] reach to call her so, my bli [...]se,
Slights all my sorrowes; Oh what eye could now
Forbeare to veeld a tea [...]e, when seeing how
I love, I am neglected; weepe with mee
All you th [...] read my wrongs, so if you be
Comp [...]ssionate, perhaps your teares may move
The frozen Mercy of my ice-white love.
Which if they doe, if you at any time
Shall [...] drop, I'le lend you some of mine.
Methinkes I see you weepe deare Mistresse then,
[Page]Behold a Noble sea of pittying men
Doth waft mee to your favour, if you daigne,
Yet now at last to ease mee of my paine,
This glory shall unto your mercy rise,
That you have wip't all teares from lovers eyes.
Fooles Paradise, or Reason Bewitcht.
—& apta
Spicula sent nobis puris—
Simple as are the Elements unmixt,
Stedfast as is the earth, whose footing's fixt
Untainted like the silver suite of Swan,
Alone like truth, well ordered like a man.
Like these in each of these was I, untill
Upon a time, Reason fell foule with Will,
Who back't with sence, that it might battaile move
Implor'd the ayde of all commanding Love,
Love by his mother taught, doth soone comply
To be an Actor in this treachery.
The battell's wag'd, and Reason flyes the field,
While Sence and Will to Love the Conquest yeeld.
I now, loves subject, am inforc't to doe
What ever his designes commands mee too.
See, see (quoth hee) do you behold that maid,
Whose equall doth not breathe; and there he staid
To draw fresh aire. So quicke was hee to give
Mee notice that I must no longer live
In my owne selfe, but her whom when I spy'd,
Mee thought I had beene happy to have dy'd.
Since I at once saw severally in one
What joyn'd together made perfection.
Who might have caused a second Trojan warre.
Were there a second Paris, for her face,
The world might strive, but then there sate a grace
So chast, that might expell each spurious thought.
Such as soule Hellen to her Paris brought.
There I might read in my Florella's lookes,
(Such are indeed beauties most perfect bookes)
Loves pleasant Lecture, where I might espie
How Cupid once sought [...] at her eye,
Whom the repell'd, like snow the chast and cold
Could not [...] Sympathy to hold,
With his hot [...], but melting quite put out
That [...] which warm'd her round about.
Cupid denied of this did backward start,
And ran for hast to hide him in her heart,
Where he renewed fresh flames, and by delay,
So [...] his wings he could not fly away.
Thus force perforce in her my conquer'd breast
[...] the poore Inne of such a God-borne guest,
Whom while I harbor, it is hard to tell
Whether his presence be a Heaven or Hell.
Such pleasurable paine, such painfull pleasure
Sometimes below, and sometimes above measure.
Mars on a time forsooke his Venus bed,
Protesting he no longer would be led
To those embraces, which like Circ [...]s charm [...],
Made him forget the Heroicke use of Armes.
Venus heard this, whiles halfe in anger shee
Did thrust her darling Cupid off her knee.
Downe fall, the youngster, and in falling so.
Broke all his Arrows, quiver and his bow,
His granda [...]e Nature pittying the mischance,
[Page]Wipes the wagges eyes, told him she would advance
Him to his former office: [...] a dart
That should transfixe the most obdurate heart.
She would create an eye, and for a bow
She'd make a brow, whose art inclining so,
Should shoote such shafts, that diety should yeeld
Themselves glad prisoners in the maiden field,
When streight she made Florella, such a maid,
Who being nam'd, need there ought else be said?
'Tis not long since that I heard I overs whine
At those deepe wounds, which from their Mistris [...]yne
They bleeding had receiv'd, cause they could winne
No mercy from them, whilst I thought some pinne
Had s [...]atch't their tender hands, till I too late
Grew sensible they were unfortunate
In their lost loves, cause when Florella s [...]ound,
Shee like a Commet strucke mee to the ground,
Till shee was pleas'd to cleare her glorious eyes,
Which summon'd mee from death to life to rise.
Wherefore you speedy Merchant; d [...]e y [...]u runne
Beyond the bounds of the all-bounding Sunne,
To seeke for Rubies, Pearle, and Ivory,
Adventuring hazard both of Land and [...]kie,
When my [...]lorella can afford all this
Without your search in the tumultuous Seas.
Rubies and Pearle, her lips and teeth, her skinne,
Like hollow Ivory, lockes those g [...]ms within,
For which you sondly up and downe doe rome,
When you may better find this wealth at home,
What would the Northerne Clim [...]te hold too deare
To purchase my Florella to live there?
That where the niggard sure denies to shine,
They might receive more lustre from her eyne.
[Page]But that I know she loves Religion best,
She had long since, seene India the West,
But least those Pagans, who adore the rise
Of the bright Sunne, should doate upon her eyes,
She was resolv'd to stay: woe had I bin
Had she gone thither to encrease their sinne.
East India nothing holds that's worth her view,
There's nothing there, that shee can take for new;
Their aire-perfuming spices, pretious gum,
Their siagrant odors, pleasant, Cinamum.
All these and sweeter farre, shee breathes whose smell
Doth all thing; but it selfe, highly excell:
Once to my friend I did these lines rehearse,
Who streight way smil'd, and did applaud my verse.
But Al [...]! I feare 'twas my Florella's name
That [...] his tongue, so to belie my [...]ame.
Once, and but once, I [...] to have the sight
Of my Florella, who makes darkenesse light:
When leaden Morph [...]us did her sence surprize,
In the lock't casket of her closed eyes,
Fain [...] would I steale a kit [...], but as I strove,
Those sear [...]
Her lips.
Judges of my sleeping loveDid swell ag [...]inst my pride, and angry red,
Charg'd mee stand backe from her forbidden bed.
While they her precious breath did seeme to smother,
Each privately did steale a touch from th'other,
[...] enviou [...] at their new begotten blisse
Was bold on her soft lips to print a kisse.
At which she wak't: And have you ever seene
How [...]aire Aurora, heaven [...] illustrious Queene.
Shakes off her [...]able Robe, and with a grace
Smiles in the front of a faire morning face.
Just so my love, as if night had beene noone,
[Page]Discards the element of the uselesse moone:
And from her glorious tapers sent a [...]i [...]e,
To light the darkest thoughts to quicke de [...]i [...]e.
While thus from forth her to [...]all gate she sent,
Breath form'd in words, the marrow of content.
And have you Sir, at such a tempting time
Bet [...]ayd my honour, to this welcome crime,
By stealing pleasure from me, twas thy Love
I know, that did thee to this trespasse move,
For I have prov'd thy faith, which since I finde
The trusty Inmate of a loyall minde,
Of force I must accept it; and in part
Of recompence, afford thee all my heart,
Thus having ceaz'd my prize; I told her, sweet,
As by no fouler name we ere may greete,
So what is mine I tender, all, my selfe,
The poorest part of thy unvalued wealth.
Thou hast won much in this, thy mercy showne,
That thus at last thou dost receive thy owne
Least they who after me like fate shall prove,
Should say: See what it is to be in Love.
I am in portu.
Loves Apostacy to his friend M [...]. E.D.
Tut, let her goe, can I indure all this,
Yet dye, to doate upon a Maydens kisse?
Is there such Magicke in her lookes, that can,
Into a foole, transfigurate a man?
Didst thou not love her? true [...] and she disdaine
To meete thy vertue? let her meete her shame [...]
Were she as [...]ane as she her selfe would be,
Adorn'd with all the cost of bravery:
[Page]Could she melt hearts of flint, and from her eye
Give her beholders power to live or die.
I' de rather begge shee would pronounce my death,
Then behe [...] scorne, though that preserv'd my breath.
Rise [...] and be not fool'd: S'soote what a shame
Were it for thee to re-incense one flame
From the declining spa [...]ke? dost thou not know
As shee's a woman, her whole sexe doth owe
To thine all honour? her false heart and pride
Dare not oppose thy faith: then turne high tyde,
And let her, since her scorn [...] doth so disease thee
By her repentance strive againe to please thee.
The broken heart song.
Coun [...] the sigh [...], and count the tea [...]es,
Which have in [...] my budding yeares:
Comment on my wo [...]ull looke,
Which i [...] now blacke sorrows booke.
Read how love is overcome,
Weepe an [...] sigh, and then be dumbe.
Say it was your charity
To helpe him wh [...] eyes [...] dry.
Here paint my Cleora's name,
Then a [...], and then a flame,
Then marke how the heart doth fry
When Cl [...]o [...]a is so nigh.
I hough the flame did doe its part,
'T was the name that broke the hea [...]
Peace, no more, no more you need
My sad history [...]o read.
[Page]Fold the paper up agen,
And report to other men
These complaints can justly prove
Hearts may breake, that be in love.
Women are mens shadowes.
1.
FOllow a shadow, it flies you,
Seeme to fly it, it will pursue.
So court a Mistresse, she denies you,
Let her alone, she will cou [...]t you.
Say, are not women truly then
Styl'd but the shadowes of us men?
2.
At morne and even, sl [...]des are longest,
At Noone they are, or short or none.
So men at weakest, they are strongest,
But grant us perfect th' are not knowne.
Say are not women truly then
Styl'd but the shadows of us men.
Per Ben. Iohnson.
Women are not mens shadowes. E Contra.
1.
The sunne absented, shadowes then
Cease to put on the formes of men.
But wives, their husbands absent, may
Beare best their formes (they being away)
Say, are no [...] women falsly then
Stil'd but the shadowes of us men.
2.
Shadowes at Morne and Even are strong,
At noone they are, or weake, or none:
Women at Noone are ever long,
At night so weake they [...]all along.
Say, are not won [...]n [...]ly then
Stil'd but the shadowes of us men?
3.
As bodies are contracted, shadowes so
Contract themselves to formes as bodies doe:
Let men be bounded neere so close: I wis [...].
Women will rove and [...]amble where they list.
Say, are not women falsly then
Stil'd but the shadowes of us men?
To his worthy friend Mistresse.
I charge thee by those eyes of thine,
Give mee my heart:
Those eyes that stole it out of mine,
I felt the smart.
And least the the [...]t you should deny,
Looke where you keepe it in your eye.
And now I have espy'd it there,
Thinking to catch it,
You chaine and wind it in your haire,
But still I watch it.
And so got loose from thence, it flyes,
And sports agen upon your eyes.
Though now to cozen mee you seeke
Thinking to hide
It in the dimple of your cheeke
I have disery'd:
How now discovered it doth skip
'Twixt the soft prison of each lippe.
Yes, yes, I see it stealing, goe
Least I should find it,
Through the long gallery of snow,
And still I mind it.
How you have shuffled it betweene
Your breasts, not thinking it is seene.
See, see, I see it creeping in
(neare you I feare)
Through the small [...] of your skinne
to shelter there.
As if that [...] could [...] mee,
Alas, I know things I not see.
But if, nor eye, nor haire, nor cheeke,
Nor lip, nor breast, nor heart it keep:
Give me them all, for every part
Thou hast, has part of mee; my heart
To Mistresse.
While a the lockes of time, and smoother fa [...]e
Than sliding streames thy skinne and [...]esses are,
Sweete a A [...]abian Odors, when in fire
Their strugling spirits upwards do expire,
(When as the curteous wind doth court our sence.
And ra [...]ish it with sweete intelligence)
Is thy pure breath onely this difference know,
That sent is [...], but thine is naturall s [...],
Soft as the plumie mos [...]e that over-spreads
The tender circle of young Turtles heads,
Are thy two breasts, which enviously do swell
To thinke that that should this, this that excell:
And yet asham'd such strife their pride hath bred,
Both blush and tip themselves with bashfull red.
Types, locks, streams, odors, downe, nor blushes are
So red, so soft, so sweet, so smooth, so faire.
On a Lillie now withered in her bosome.
Blest in thy happy bed faire Lilly lye
To shade thee from the Sunne of her bright eye:
But doe not in a wanton pride preferte
Thy selfe, as adding whitenesse unto her.
Alas! what glory could in thee appeare
So eminent, if not transplanted there?
But see, thou fadest already, poore, proud flowre,
Whose fate is limited to one short howre:
And since thou wouldst for such a beauty vie,
Thy conquer'd envie makes thee pale and dye.
Come sit thee downe, and with a mislyn charme
Ceaze my incircled arme,
Till lockt in fast, imbraces wee discover
In every eye a lover,
Then lost in that sweete extacy of blisses,
Wee'le speake our thoughts in kisses.
In which wee'le melt our soules, and mixe them so,
That what is thine or mine, there's none shall know:
Rare mistery of love, and wonders too,
Which none but wee can doe:
Nor shall the leaden spirits of all those,
Who speake of love in tame prose:
Beleeve our joyes: but dully censure us [...]
Onely for loving thus.
Ah! how I smile, that doubtly blest, we doe
Injoy our selves, and all their envie too.
The Choyce.
WHat care I though she be [...]
Haire, snow-like hand, or Sun-like eye,
If in that beauty I not share,
Were she deformed, what care I.
What care I though shee be foule,
Haire swa [...]thy hand, or sunne burnt eye,
So long as I enjoy her soule,
Let her be so, why what care I.
Dimme sight is cosened with a glasse,
Of gaudy gowne, or humerous haire,
Such gold in melting leave more drosse
Than some unpolish't prices share,
Be she [...]aire, or soule, or either,
Or made up of both together,
Be her heart mine, have, hand, or eye
Be what it will, why what care I.
EPITAPHS.
Epitaphium Regis Swedorum.
HEre sleepes hee who was and is
The subject of eternall blisse.
Religion, and no other end,
Caus'd him his blood & means to spend.
He conquer'd all, onely his breath,
He lost, by which he conquer'd death.
Now would'st thou know whom we deplore
'Tis Sweaden, Reader, husht no more:
[...] est while thou read, thou and this stone
Be both alike, by death made one.
For death and griefe are neare of kinne,
So thou might'st die, being griev'd for him.
[...]. Tho. [...]eedome.
An Elegy on the death of the renowned, and victorious Gu [...]tav [...]s Adolphus King of Sweathland.
Can the dry sound, Hee's dead, no more affright
The world with ter [...]our, than had some meane knight,
Languish't to death in downe? or can the sound,
That Sweaden hath received a fatall wound
Passe by, and like the bullet, hurt no more
Than his stout brest, that felt the mortall sore?
Oh no! it rankles in each weak'ned part,
And strikes a chill amazement to the heart
Of feeble Christendome, that by his losse,
Puts on it's titles badge, The Christian Crosse:
And 'twas a great one too, yet let none wonder
That heaven forbo [...] to ring his knell in thunder:
Or tha [...] some angry Meteor did not stare,
And to the world their publique losse declare.
No, no, some such Ambassador as this
Had beene too mercifull, land made us misse
Our just deserved punishment, [...]or wee
Knowing our sinne begot this misery,
Might by a faign'd repentance have procur'd
A pardon for the Prince: but now assur'd
Of our owne weaknesse, we with teares may say,
We are losers, though our army wonne the day.
His death begot his conquest, and his foes
Mourn'd at his fate, witnesse those death wing'd blows
Which heaven by meanes of his impressure steele,
Did make their bleeding carcasses to feele.
Then what remaines? but that ou [...] prayers gaine
[Page]This be the latest losse we may sustaine.
And that no more of Heavens great Champions fall
Through our default, to so sad funerall.
To the truly worthy, and his worthily honoured friend Mris Judith Dyke, on the death of her brother Mr John Dyke, obiit ult. Martii 1636.
TAmely, and soft as the Prophetique breath,
That pants, the [...]atall passing bull of death
Move my sad soule, and to his happy hearse,
Pay the deserved tribute of thy verse:
And you blest maid, whose griefe hath almost wonne
Death by your griefe to make you both but one,
Cease your laments, for how can you be crost
In this, since what God finds, can ne [...]r [...] be lost?
And wisely thinke you may offend in this,
Love hath its errours, and may doe, amisse.
Death may looke dreadfull in an ill mans eye,
'Tis no great thing to live, but lesse to die
To die indeed, as Common people doe,
That with perplexed soules bid earth adieu,
And by necessity of late compeld,
Their strugling spirits to the Coffin yeeld,
Were matter worthy griefe, and onely they
Are like the houses that entombe them, clay:
But where the soule (like his) rapt with desire,
Disdaines dull earth, and aymes at glories higher:
And by a bright Angelicke fire inflam'd,
Mounts towards heaven, as o [...]t as heares it nam'd;
Like a sweete odor upward as it goes,
It yeelds a persume to th'Almighties nose:
[Page]And hence ascended, 'tis 'not just that wee
Lament at its exalted dignity.
And sure no matter if wee must away,
Whether it be to morrow, or to day;
And if to day, at morne, or night, or noone,
So wee die well, what need we care how soone.
I know the fertile soyle of his pure heart
Gave warmth to every vertuous roote of Ait:
And had the August of his age bin come
They had bin crown'd with a blest harvest home.
But now hee's clouded from your eyes to show,
That none but Angels worthy are to know
What hee shall aged be: Oh! 'tis a [...]a [...]e
VVorth your best thankes; that day deserves it's date,
Be registred to Glory, when his Maker
Made him, of him and all his blisse partaker.
Now dare you loose a teare, unlesse it bee,
Because you are not happie yet as hee?
'Tis charity to wish you so: but then
As you know how, yet God knowes better when,
Death comes to call, yet not to call as one;
Though all men die, yet good men well alone.
The Sunne's not lost, but set, the approaching day
Shall make it's light more glorious by delay:
If then in death such differences consist,
Desire so to dissolve to be with Christ.
So prayes for you, your true friend The. Beedome.
Encomium Poetarum ad fratrem Galiel Scot.
TWice I began, and twice my trembling hand
Startled from what my Genius did command,
Lest harmel [...]sse [...] should hazzard all my fame,
And my attempt win nothing but selfe shame.
It deem'd the praise of Poets worth the pen,
Rather of Angels, than of mortall men.
My bolder heart b [...]d on: for blind men may,
Although not see, yet know there is a day,
And said (perhaps) my credit I might save,
The proverbe sayes, nought venter nothing have.
Then come, yea Muses were you nine times nine,
I could imploy you in this worke of mine.
Fill my wide [...]ailes, that while you stand my friend,
I may swimme safe unto my journey's end.
Since the first Mistique Chaos did entombe
The earths faire sabricke in confusions wombe.
There is no art can plead antiquity
Before the heavenly birth of Poesie:
I speake of those arts which this day we call,
As witnesse to their nature: Liberall.
Next by th'ffect the worth of things is knowne,
They in respect of this seeme to have none.
The end of verse is to preserve from death
VVhat ever from a Poet tooke its breath:
VVitnesse that golden age, whose fame lives still
By some few drops, from Naso's golden quill:
He rescued Satu [...]nes Godhead from the ground,
And by his lines his aged temples crown'd.
[Page]He in a brasse-outlasting paper page,
Created thee, Great Jove, a silver age:
Apollo for his Daphne, to his Layes
Owes a rich wreath of thunder-scorning bayes.
One petty blast from his immortall breath,
Preserv'd Diana's chastity from death:
Nor need Act [...]on take it much in scorne,
That Ovid did co [...]nute him with a horne.
Homer yet lives, whose pen for want of eyes,
Did point his name the way to kisse the skies.
Young schollers in the darke might grope like fooles,
Were not he plac't the lanthorne of the Schooles.
The world had lost among it's Worthies, one Ale [...]dos.
Who had not Homer sung, had neere beene knowne.
Ulysses act had perish'd like a toy,
Had this blind guide not led him out of Troy,
And rapt his memory up so safe in rime,
That it shall equall, if not out-live time.
Maro, thy lines great Caesar hath extold,
That paid each severall verse a piece of gold,
Yet thought his purchase easie, and did more
Esteeme thy wit, than all his wealth and store,
And justly too, since what thy labour spent
On him, lasts longer than his monument.
This (Rome being fired) is ashes, but his name
Lives Salamander-like, spight of the flame.
Didst thou not snatch A [...]neas from that fire,
That up to Illions Turrets did aspire,
And bor'st his feeble father by thy pen
On his sons shoulders, through an hoast of men?
For which, thy selfe, great Virgill shalt remaine
To endlesse times, even till thou rise againe.
No envious fire thy able skill shall burne,
[Page]Till fire and earth into one substance turne,
Yill when (that I may come to speak [...] our dayes)
Daniel thou livest circled with breath for bayes.
Nor Spencer to whose verse the world doth owe
Millions of thankes can unremembred goe:
Nor thou great Johnson, who knowst how to write
Such lines as equall profit with delight,
Whil'st thy untired readers wish each sheete
Had beene a volume, 'tis so neate, so sweete.
Next, fame seemes charily to spread her wings,
O're what the never dying Drayton sings,
Still lives the Muses Appollinean son,
The Phaenix of his age, rare Harrington,
Whose Epigrams when time shall be no more,
May die (perhaps) but never can before.
This cloud can witnesse that a Poet may
Bring darknesse out of light, make night seeme day.
These can make lawes, and Kingdomes, alter States,
Make Prince; Gods, and poore men Potentates.
An amorous verse ( [...]aire Ladies) [...] innes your loves,
Sooner than busk points, [...]arthingalls, or gloves:
A Poets quill doth stand in greater stead,
Than all such [...]oyes to gaine a maiden head.
A line well writ, and by a Potent skill,
Charmes the rapt soule with musique of a quill
VVhilst the by standers deem't a blisse to die,
Tickled to death by such sweet harmony.
Againe, if thou deserve the Muses frowne
(Wretch that thou art) a quill can hurle thee downe,
To that abisse of ignomy, that fate,
Cannot condemne thee to a baser state,
I will make each finger point at thy disgrace,
And like a Monster each man sh [...]n thy face:
[Page]VVhile thou thus branded, finding no reliefe,
With a strong halter choakest thy stronger grie [...]e
Thus Poets like sates factors here do hold
All power underneath their pens controld.
Lastly deare brother, thinke not I forgot,
Amongst this learned [...]ile to ranke my Scot:
Thy early Muse sings in so swee [...]e a straine,
As if Apollo had compos'd thy vaine;
Superlatively taking, while each letter
Disdaines our Moderne Poets should sing better.
Now saints my pen, and fainting feares that I
My selfe may perish, if wi [...]h clemencie,
My reader censure not, yet hopes to raise
A memory to it selfe, though not of praise;
That I being earth, something may live of m [...]e
Perhaps this paper if approv'd by thee.
Against prejudicate opinion.
THe humble soule, the mind opprest,
Shall finde unto his conscience rest:
The cleare in heart, the single eye,
Laughs at his neighbo [...]rs jealousie,
Then let men censu [...]e what they can,
The inside makes the honest man.
Who'ld thinke a clod of earth should hold
Within, a masse of splendent gold?
So silly woods have fragrant smels,
And Pearles are sound in sordid shels,
Base s [...]bards hold approved swords;
And [...] covers golden words.
Digge up the earth, [...]nd burne the wood,
[Page]The gold, and smell will both be good;
Unsheath the blade, the booke untye,
One takes your heart, to [...]her your eye,
Had these laid still they might have gone,
Thought hardly worth the looking on:
Then judge what folly there had beene
To c [...]nsure any thing unseene.
—Mors aequo pede pulsat Pauperum taber [...]as, Regumque turres.
MAns life's a game, each hath his card in's hand,
And death a while a looker on doth stand:
At last hee shu [...]fles in a gamester too;
Then cuts, deales, rubbes, and winnes, and so adieu.
(The King like common creatures) in death must
Find no respect, nor reve [...]ence in the dust:
Their royalty put off, their state laid downe,
There sits a clod o [...] dirt, where once a Crowne.
Their eyes like expir'd tapers drop, and fall,
And leave the [...]t Sockets emptie; for the Ball,
Or golden Globe, which once their hands did keepe,
A knot of wormes doth role about, and creepe,
Who [...]ast no difference 'twixt their flesh and those
Who fed lesse dainty, wore fatre course [...] cloathes.
In his dominion: Death impartiall knowne,
The King and begger there are all but one.
Rejoyce then rich men, and your game pursue,
In death I'le be as good a man as you.
To the Noble Sr Francis Drake.
DRake, perreratinovit quem terminus orbis,
Et cujus faciem vidit uterque polus.
Si taceant bomines facient te Sydera notam,
Sol [...]escit conctis non memor essesui.
The Translation.
DRake, who the world hast conquer'd like a scrole;
VVho saw'st the Articke, and Antarticke Pole;
If men were silent, sta [...]res would make thee knowne,
Phoebus forgets not his companion.
To his friend Mr Em. D. on a rich vaporing sot, whom hee stiles Ignoramus.
BLesse us! why here's a thing as like a man,
As Nature to our fancie fashion can.
Besh [...]ew mee, but he has a pretty face,
And weares his tapier with indifferent grace.
Makes a neat congie, dances well, and sweares:
And weares his Mistresse pendant in [...] eares:
Has a nea [...] foot as ever kist the ground,
His shoes and roses cost at least five pound.
Those hose have not a peere, for by relation,
They're cut a moneth at least since the last fashion.
He knowes two Ladies that will vow there's none
At Court, a man of parts, but he alone.
[Page]And yet this [...]op, scarce ever learn'd to know
The mixture of the dis-joyn'd Christ-crosse row.
Strip off his ragges, and the poo [...]e thing is then
The just contempt of understanding men.
Being Fortunes minion, Nature thought it fit,
Since he had wealth enough, he should want wit.
To my matchlesse friend, my dearest William Scot, a New-yeares guift.
How shall I thanke my fate that wrought this end
To my best wishes? that thou art my friend.
I may lose all (if I have any) wealth,
My sicknesse may bereave mee of my health.
Bondage may steale my freedome, but my love,
Which is a sacred blessing from above
Can neere be wanting, since 'tis lock't in thee,
Who art true friendships safest treasurie.
It joyes mee that my soule so well did light
To dwell with thine, thou that dost speake, and write,
And thinke the same with mee, as if my spirit,
Did nothing else but what is thine, inherit.
If e're (which heaven desend and still uphold)
Our league should breake: Oh! horror to be told,
And that the knot of our strong amity,
Should be dissolv'd by any crime in mee,
Then count mee lighter than my fleeting breath,
Show by this paper, and I'le blush to death.
But I feare no such mischiefe, since ou [...] love
So aptly in each others soules doth move.
No Rhetoricke can my zeale to thee impart,
So well I love thee, that thou hast my heart;
[Page]And that my action may concord with time,
Be this thy New-yeares guift, and call mee thine
Ever till death, T. B.
The Corner stone.
'TWas a faire stone, though it was abus'd,
And by the senselesse builder was refus'd;
Alas their sinne blind soules, and blinder eyes,
Sought by the pride of all their industries
To polish ma [...]tle, porphery, or that
On which proud folly set so high a
Diamonds, or other pretious stones.
rare,And with such earth-bred trifles to refine
Materiall Temples to the powre divine.
Whilst that bright stone from th'heavenly square taken,
Lies on the mountaine by these fooles forshaken.
Ah! had they knowne the value of this Jem,
It had not beene so under priz'd by them.
Oh! when that Babell building of their sinne
Shall ruin'd dash upon themselves agin:
And wanting props to under-set it shall
Uppon the builders head with te [...]our fall.
How will they wish this abject stone had beene
By faith well laid, them and their sinnes betweene:
Then had it like a storme-contemning rocke,
Secur'd their Mansions from their heavy shocke
Of wrath and judgement, both the which unjust,
Shall make them roare with woe: Oh! had I wist.
Lord be the Basts of my hopes high Throne,
And then I'le build on that strong Corner-stone.
The Royall Navy.
WHat's breath? a vapor: glory? a vaine chat:
What's man? a span: what's life? shorter than that:
What's death? a key: for what? to ope heavens dore,
Who keepes it? time: for whom? both rich and poore:
What's heaven? a haven: what's ships anchor there?
Hope, faith, and love, with one small pinnace feare.
What are those? men of warre, how fraught? with armes:
What burthen? weighty, suiting their alarum?
Whose ships? the Kings: what colours? the red crosse:
What ensignes? bloody from their Princes losse:
And whither bound? to earth: Oh! what's their strife?
To conquer breath, and glory, man and life.
Oh! I foresee the storme, Lord I confesse,
Then vapour, or vaine chat, or span I'm lesse,
Save a relenting [...]oe; thy glories are
More excellent in peace, than death and warre;
For to that time, that time his key shall lend,
And to thy tent my yeelding spirit send:
I will strike saile to these, and strive to prove
Thy Captive, in my hope, faith, fea [...]e and love.
EPIGRAMS.
Epigram 1.
To my deare friend. William Harrington.
TIs true (my Will.) and I confesse I owe
Thy friendship more than this: yet to be [...]ow
A [...] upon a [...]rend, hath sometimes bin
A [...] worth th'acceptance of a [...]ing,
Though my pen-seath [...]r'd Muse yet cannot teach
My feeble quill to that [...]ap't height to reach,
'T will be no lesse content to mee, if shee
Be but well entertain'd (deare friend of thee)
Thou art a King in friendship: and I may,
Then thus to my no little comfort say,
That too good Wills my worthlesse Muse hath won,
My Scot: and my no lesse-lov'd Harrington.
Thy friend Th. Beed.
Epigram 2.
Of one Mary Fraile, who lay with Mr Reason.
MAry was long desirous for to marry,
And vow'd that past fifteene she would not tarry;
I am su [...]e this vow of modesty did faile,
Alas yet pardon her for flesh is Fraile.
No suitors came, nor could her longing eyes
Mee [...]e any that might seaze her as his prize;
But making conscience not to breake her vow,
Shee is (as then the promist) no maid now.
Though thou know'st not why she so young did sport,
I'de have thee thinke, Fraile had some Reason [...]or't.
Epigram 3.
On the same Mary a great lover of Mary-bones.
WHy she doth Mary- [...]ones af [...]ect, would'st know?
I thinke the reason is not hard to show:
The bone she cannot ea [...]e that's hard as flin [...],
Oh then I guesse the cause! there's something in't [...]
Well what's that something? Oh my Muse there sticke,
She that loves marrow likely loves a—
Epigram 4.
To the excellent Poets Mr George Withers [...]
I Never saw thee: but should grossely lie
To say I know thee not, for [...]illy I,
[Page] Or one that is more stupid, well may guesse
At what thou art by what tho [...] dost expresse.
Oh that blest day when first my willing hand
Opt the remembrance of this Sinsicke land:
Trust mee, I griev'd to thinke that now my age,
Had sixteene summers acted on this stage:
Yet was a stranger to so ra [...]e a soule
As thine; whose heaven-bred boldnesse durst controle
Without respect of persons, every sinne.
That to thy knowledge had committed bin.
Then next thy Satyres, and thy Motto, I
Made hast to purchase, where I might espio,
How some too base for earth, not worth a name,
Sought by their mire and dirt to cl [...]y thy same.
And credit mee, I hardly could forbeare,
Upon these pittied lines to drop a teare.
But that I know vertue oppos'd by fate,
Lookes greatest (like the Sunne) in lowest stare:
When other wits, who have in some base time,
Imploy'd of [...]ate, that they might conquer time;
Shall like those paper toyes, in which they trust,
Be eate by wormes, or molded into dust,
And want a name: thou by thy vertues grac't,
Shall live till earth by fire be imb [...]ac't
Thy unknown well-wisher Th.Beed.
Epigram 5.
By way of consolation to his deare friend William Scot, on the death of his brother Gilman Scot.
SUffer mee (dearest friend) to bring a verse,
Though uninvited to attend the hearse:
Of him whose memory death cannot blo [...],
Since hee yet lives in thee (my friendly Scot)
I know the [...]ertile soyle of his pure heart,
Gave warmth to every vertuous roote of Art.
And had the August of his age bin come,
Y'had seene him crown'd with a rich harvest home.
But now he's clouded, from your eyes to show,
That none but angels worthy are to know
What hee shall aged be: Oh! 'tis a fate
Worth your best thankes, that day deserves its date,
Be registred to glory, when heaven pleas'd
Him of his earthly flesh-encumbrance eas'd
Yet da [...]e you lose a teare? unlesse for joy,
That heaven in mercy gave him for the toy
Which wee call breath, a life that shall outlive,
What e're dull earth, or all your love could give.
I know the fates have lop't off from your tree
Many fai [...]e branches: which I doubt not bee
Againe, sarre fairer than his muddy [...]oyle,
Could suffer them to grow too: for the [...]oyle
Of living was their trouble, but that care
They wisely did contemne, and so repaire
To that blest pallace, which for pious men
The maker fram'd, and now is opt agen
For this new entrance: do not then once more
[Page] Spend any uselesse teare, behold thy [...]ore
Of heavenly friends do seeme to smile and say,
Will, thou must follow, we but lead the way.
Which that thou maist, heaven fit thee with such grace,
As may prepare thee to that hallowed place,
Where thou with these shalt never cease to cry,
Hosanna: Glory be to God on high.
Thine T. B.
Epigram 6.
To his friend Mr Thomas Beedom, of single life.
HAppy is hee that leads a single life,
He's not perplexed with the daily strife
Of c [...]pled bondage, not can tortur'd bee
With Hymens ague, the disparity
Of minde which bodies joynd, neither doth know
What hell it is, hal [...]e of himselfe to owe
Unto a wi [...]e: thus happi's hee alone,
Can [...]ell himselfe that hee is all his owne.
Em.D.
Epigram 7.
Econtra, of Marriage.
MAn was not to himselfe bo [...]ne, nor can hee
Subsist in death, but by posterity.
Women the wombe [...] of men are, and that man
Might after death survive, when nothing can
K [...]epe him alive but issue: Nature gave
[Page]Woman to him, his vaine name to save:
Happy the man then, who enjoyes a wife,
By whom he gives himselfe a second life.
per Th. Beedom.
Epigram 8.
Of good women.
OFt have I wondred, but no more I shall,
Why womens wit sometimes saves men a fall.
Alas 'tis thus: I now the cause do scan,
They were the ribs, which is the strength of man.
Epigram 9.
E Contrario.
I Oft admired have why womens mind
Is so perverse and crooked to mankind:
Mans rib at first to them a beeing gave,
And they like it a crooked nature have.
Epigram 10.
Being a Translation of this Latin verse, composed by Dr Hensloe.
Herode [...] pro uno [...]runcavit mille, nec unu [...],
Quem petiit, cecidit, [...]am bene rem detegit.
The Translation.
HErod for one a thousand slew,
Yet of that one did saile,
[Page] For he from Herods fury flew,
There Herod hit the naile.
Epigram 11.
To the worthy honoured, Sir Henry Wootten Knight.
IS there eternity? or is there [...]ame?
Rests there a glory to a vertuous name?
Is there a wreath for Poets? is there blisse
To a condigne discent? yes, sure there is.
Can man (whose soule tis true, is active) rise
To such a height, not here, but when hee dyes?
Nay further is it in the might of man
To acquire all this? yes, by defect he can.
Then 'tis some joy to know it, but suppose
Some were so stupid that they durst oppose
This tener, nay, and further would imply,
That 'tis in posse for best wits to die.
How when thy clay shall sleepe, shall thy just same
Brand these erroneous? and convince with shame
Their then griev'd so [...]les, to thinke thy losse hath lent
To their dull Tribe that deare experiment.
Whil'st thou when Earth shall mourne to misse thee here,
Above to Monarchs, shalt become a Peere,
And make the next age blush to thinke that shee
Retaines no equall to thy wit or thee.
Epigram 12.
To the same Knight being President of Eaton Colledge.
VVHy should men wonder so, that Eaton Boy [...],
Do by their learning purchase same: not noise?
Doth not that Male-Minarva Wootten grace
With pollilht Eloquence 'bove all, that Place?
Oh! if each Colledge still had resident,
But halfe so rare a witted President [...]
'Twere to be hop't (like this) that grae't by them,
Each Colledge might become an Accadem.
Yours in all service Th. Beed.
Epigram 13.
Of a fresh water Souldier.
DAnus was much in debt, and knew no way
A long forbearing creditor to pay;
And when he prest him hard: Good Sir quoth hee,
A while desist, I hope his majestie
Will in the Navy, when a place doth [...]all,
Make me a Captaine, then Ile pay you all.
But marke, while hee the honest man would gull
His new coyn'd lie, scarce had hee ended [...]ull,
But him an Officer i'th Kings name did greete,
And dub'd him Captaine i'th fre [...]h-water Fleete.
Epigram 14.
Being a meditation to my selfe.
WHy woulst thou live (fond soule) dost thou not
know
From whence thou cam'st, and whither thou must goe?
Can walls of clay so much thy sense delight,
As to deba [...]re thee from that glorious slight,
Which thou [...]houldst cove [...]? canst thou idly prize
The [...]ire, that loads thy wings unfit to rise?
Shouldst thou still live, it were but still to see
Some new sceane Acted of thy Tragidie:
Thou couldst but do to morrow, as this day
Commit fresh [...]inne, sleepe, eate, or drinke, and play.
No matter then how soone thou dye: then come
Prepare thy selfe to waite thy Judges dombe
Thou cam [...]st from heaven, then labour to draw neere
Thy quiet c [...]nte [...], if thou once rest there,
Thy walls of clay, the mire that loads thy wings,
Shall be a Mansion for the King of Kings.
Thy Tragedy shall end, thy sinne shall cease,
And thou rest ever in an endlesse peace;
Bee't when thou please, good God, at morne or noone,
So I die well, no matter, Lord, how soone.
Epigram 15.
To himselfe of his Mistresse.
VVHat though thou merit not?why know there lyes
Vail'd in the Courteous candor of her eyes,
[Page] A saving mercy, that can lend a wing
For dull despaire to monnt on, tis a thing
Beyond the common reach, to know how sweete
He lives, that doth in death a pardon meete.
But thou art poore, true: but her better part,
Neere lookt upon the habit but the heart.
Shee that has vertue cannot doa [...]e on those
Whose best perfection is a suite of cloathes.
Who Court th' attracting beauties of the age
With some con'd stuffe brought from the Cockpit stage,
Or gull their Mistris by some Poeme showne
Which, 'cause they paid for, they dare call their owne.
When, if their braines were ransackt you might know,
They nere Commenc't beyond their cri [...]s-cro [...]se row.
Then hope (poore heart) and strongly that she will
At last embrace thee, for she hath the skill
To schoole the first with frownes; that so her [...]avour
May, when she smiles, last with the sweeter [...]avour.
Epigram 16.
To his Superlative Mistris.
COmpare the Bramble to the sta [...]ely Pine;
The fruit lesse Thistle, to the vertuous Vine.
Compare the Charcole to the Snow-white Downe,
The wreath of Rushes to th'Imperiall Crowne.
Compare the Raven to the Turtle Dove;
The Moores of India to the Queene of Love.
Compare the Candle to the splendent Moone
The [...]ogges of nigh [...], to Phoebus eye at [...]one.
Compare the Kite to sweete breath'd Philomell,
The Lerman Lake to th'Helliconian Well.
[Page] If these admit comparison, then shee
That can admit of no equalyty,
May find a paralell: but let some men
Racke their dull braines to praise their Mistresse, when
The utmost of their language they have spent,
Let them sit downe, and sigh, and be content:
Their Idols eyes to Sunbeames to compare
Or by the rose her blased lips declare.
My Mistresse must beyond their Saints survive
In that unequall'd height, superlative.
Epigram 17.
To his intim [...]te friend William Pearle.
'TWas not a slight acquaintance that could move,
This [...]alutation to thy m [...]ch lesse love.
I do not use to ground affection where
A complem [...]nt alone invites the [...]a [...]e.
No, I have prov'd thee, and thy pre [...]ious name
Confirmes thy n [...]ture to be like the same.
A glorious G [...]m, whose lustre doth out shine
All those poore merits that I dare call mine.
And I must prize thee, since thy wor [...]h is showne
Superl [...]ive and farre above mine owne.
Suffice it that my friendship, and my Art
S [...]ves still to weare thee Pearle, upon my heart.
Epigram 18.
To the Heroicall Captaine Thomas Jam [...]s, of his discovery made by the Northwest pass [...]ge towards the South Sea. 1631.
HEroicke soule, thy memory must live,
Beyond those stone built structures, that can give
Their earth an Ages talke; or can assure
The effigies of some mony Gull shall dure,
Till spiders eate his memory: Oh poore glory,
T'inscrible a Marble with the tedious story
Of some stout Sir, whose vertue neere was more
Than how to quarr [...]ll [...] for (perhaps) a whore,
But thou (great James) hast by thy Actions fram'd
A trophie, that hereafter thou being nam'd,
Men shall rise up with [...]everence, and keepe
Thy [...]ame from freezing, when thy Ashes sleepe.
To the same Captaine on his Couragious, and pious behaviour in the said voyage.
MArchles [...]e Commander, when fierce winds did hurle
Water to aire, and made the old waves curle
To mounts of solid liquor, when strong streames
Of moving marble did assault thee James.
Did not thy conquer'd courage, like the rest
Flag, and sit heavie on thy hopelesse breast?
Didst thou not faint to heare the Thunder roare,
And [...]urious seas rebell against the Shoare?
[Page] Didst thou not quake at this? why then I see
Thy soule (though prison'd in thy flesh) was free,
Thou werr above a man, thy zeale like fire
Dissolv'd th' opposing Ice, and did aspi [...]e,
Through all the stormes of darke condensed ayre,
Wrapt in a shee [...]e of storme-contemning prayer;
These were prevaili [...]g blowes, and broke more Ice
At once, then all your hands at ten-times twice.
This man'd your ship securely through the maine,
And stered you safely to your home againe.
I. B.
Epigram 19.
A Complaint of his separation from his Mistris, caused by his friends injunction.
DEare Heart, remember that sad hower,
When we were forc't to part,
How on thy cheekes I wept a shower,
With sad and heavy heart;
About thy waste my Armes did twist,
Oh! then I sight, and then I kist:
Ten thousand feates and joyes in one,
Did such distraction frame,
As if the livelesse world would runne
To Chaos backe againe,
Whilst my poore heart, amidst these feares;
Lay bath [...]d in my milke warme teares.
Ah then I thought, and thinking wept,
How friends and fate di [...]ower,
On thee I eander, how they kept
Thee from thy Heroes Tower,
While thunder gro [...]nd, and heaven did weepe
To rocke thy sence in silent sleepe.
But fate must unresisted stand,
Oh who can it oppose?
Necessiti's a Tyrant, and
No meane in mischiefe knowes;
Else might my fairer Love and I
Unsever'd live, till one did dye.
Just so the hungry In [...]ant from
His Mothe [...]s dugge is tane,
When his weake arme's yet spread along.
More dulcid milke to gaine;
And nothing brings the babe to rest,
Untill he sleepe upon her brest.
Thus being banisht from my Love,
And for [...]'t to leave her sight.
No thoughts but those of her can move
In me the least delight;
But like true steele my heart doth pant,
To touch the long'd-for Adamant.
Oh let no storme of discontent
Be clouded in your browes,
Deare friends that have my being l [...]nt,
Give being to my vowes [...]
[Page] I will much engage my heart, if when
I say shee's mine, you' [...]e say Amen.
Such kindness [...] to our true love showne,
Shall binde u [...]doubly then your owne.
Epigram 20.
To the memory of his honoured friend Master John Donne, an Eversary.
BLest dust, and better soule, to you alone,
I raise this structure, not in Jet or Stone,
Whose [...]aile [...]y in its luster onely can,
Tell us below, there lyes a s [...]ayler man.
But heigh [...]ned by those severall glories which
Doe [...]qually your better selfe in rich,
In those [...]ude lines, if such poore things can live,
I would a memory to your being give.
Burst ope thy Cell, blest shade, and [...]ise, that we
May doe some homage to thy excellency.
Or that thy g [...]ar example may invite,
Us to a wish of everlas [...]ing night,
In which thy Sun of vertue shall appeare,
S [...] [...]ull, as if earth had no darkenesse there.
Oh happy spring of thine, whose seede and flower
Was sowed and bloom'd, and witherd in an hower,
For if long age be counted but a span,
Thy inch of time scarce measur'd halfe a man.
But sleepe, sleepe best of spirits, why should I
Disturbe thy ashes? tis a misery,
To know thou wert, and art not, for so men,
Mourne, Jewels they once had, but lost agen,
So he, whose bitter fate is forc't to prove,
[Page] The misery of a memorable Love.
Remembring what it was, and since no more
He may enjoy it as he did before,
Weepes the sad consequence, and prints thereby
His sorrowes, offerd to the Readers eye.
But I must leave thee thus, and thinke of thee,
To the mad world, a just Antipathy.
Thou were not of those men whose gowne and hood,
Must plead a wisdome, though not understood.
Nor of the tribe of such as easily can,
Drop jests, or vapours upon any man.
These are the Indians, that doe fr [...]ske and r [...]n,
To the false rayes of each supposed Sunne:
Simple Americans that doe ingrosse
The [...]oyes of every noble genius.
Nor were you such whose cunning had the [...]kill,
To murder a friend closely, nor to kill
With a pretence of safety; your just Endes
Depended not on liking of your friends.
But if the opposites of vice may be,
Exprest by any contrariety,
Let all men know, what all men wish, which is
But a content on earth, and after blisse,
Which thou art crownd with, thus some stones are set
At greater rate, then some whole Cabinet,
When thy triumphant spirit once did inne,
At the poore cottage of thy [...]rayler skinne,
Though every thought was payment of a rent,
To high, and worthy such a tenement,
Yet as it had a knowledge did dispia [...]e,
Because thou wouldst not [...]arry longer there.
It droopes and ruinates it selfe, and [...]alls,
In every glory o [...] its principalls.
[Page] So Princes in a journey having beene
The honoured guests of some poore village Inne
Are mourn'd at their departure, and now more
Grieves the sad host, then he was glad before.
Come Virgins, you whose innocency can
Embalme the mem [...]ry of a divine man;
Y [...]u whose unspotted glories as your faces
Preserve your fame and multiply its graces:
Whose easie goodnesse never did affect
To wound obedient spirits with neglect,
No [...] triumph in the fall of former loves,
Come, come, blest Virgins bring your peacefull Doves,
And at the Al [...]a [...] of his sacred [...]hrine,
Present them and your zeale, as I doe mine.
That to the world hereafter may be read,
Here innocency by Virgins wound lyes dead.
An Elegie on the death of his loving friend. I: C:
WHy should the labour of my mournefull Verse,
Find so sad subject as thy timelesse hearse?
My soule, which now is not, but where thou art,
Stayes but to tell the world we will no [...] part.
And the glad Casket which thy ashes beares,
Sh [...]ll tide me after thee in mi [...]e owne teares,
And then rejoyce that we whose hearts were one,
In death shall celebrate Communion.
Wisedome of fate: that earely did remove,
Thee hence, that I in heaven might seeke my love,
And so assure me that time thou couldst dye,
No beauty but must taste mortality.
I know my bounded every Grace
[Page] In the strict limits of thy well built face,
And thought those principles of beauty there
Unchangable, as bodies in their sphere;
But I recant, and tell the world this truth,
There is no priviledge in blood or youth
Else how could'st thou, whose every smile: or breath
Was a su [...]ficient antidote 'gainst death,
Have met a grave; and like a drooping flowre,
Have wi [...]hered to nothing in an houre?
Sleepe while some Angell with a peace [...]ull wing,
Courtaines thy ashes here, and hovering
O're thy innocuous breast by that display,
Informes mee where my dust must take its way,
Then my infranchis'd spirit up shall fly,
To our just wedding for eternity,
And pitty all those enmities below,
That did with hold us from uniting so,
And smile to know that all our envious friends,
Have lost their plot, and we obtain'd our ends:
But wee will marry here in spight of those
That would our much wish't meeting interpose;
Death shall be prest, lye closer sweete, make roome
That wee may make our marriage bed thy Tombe.
My sonne give mee thy heart.
ANd why my heart, since I have none,
Or if I have perhaps 'tis stone,
And rather than have such a one,
Better have none.
Lord canst thou chu [...]e no other part [...]
The world alas hath stole my hea [...]
[Page] Pleasure intis't it by strange Art
From mee to part.
One Angell lust, and all the rest
Possesses it, or else as bad a guest,
And in the midd'st there is a neast
For sloath to rest.
Envie would have it all, but pride
Disdaining, any should divide
Possession there.
Enter and then, as tyrants who,
By bloud are rais'd, their states undoe,
Doth dominee [...]e.
The Petition.
HEate mee my God, and heare mee soone,
Because my morning toucheth noone,
Nor can I looke for their delight,
Because my noone layes hold on night:
I am all circle, my morne, night, and noone,
Are individable, then heare mee soone.
Thou art all time my God, and I
Am part of that eternity:
Yet being made, I want that might
To be as thou art, Infinite:
As in thy flesh, so he thou Lord to mee,
That is, both infinite, and eternity,
But I am dust, at most, but man,
That dust extended to a span:
[Page] A span indeed, [...]or in thy hand,
Stretcht or contracted, Lord, I stand,
Contract and stretch mee too, that I may be
Straightned on earth, to be enlarg'd to thee.
But I am nothing, then how can,
I call my selfe, or dust, or man?
Yet thou from nothing all didst frame,
That all things might exalt thy name,
Make mee but something, then my God to thee,
Then shall thy praise be all in all to mee.
VVHen first of linne I tooke survey,
Sinne that first wrought poore mans decay,
Mee thought the seeming pleasures that it wore
Betray'd a face
So full of grace
That I desir'd it more and more.
As ra [...]les babies, and such [...]oyes,
Are the [...]ull bundles of childhoods joyes
I rested in appearance little knowing,
That such vaine things,
Which sorrow bring,
An alteration in their growing.
As warning once descri'd from sarre,
Through some darke cloud a glimeting starre,
That lead mee on to seeke its lustre out;
Hee that makes all
Answer'd his call,
Had turn'd my er [...]or qui [...]e about.
Did'st thou not God, divide those 'seas,
AEgypt and Israels death and ease,
When sepa [...]ated waves like Mountaines sweld
On either side
To quench their pride
That 'gainst thy edict did [...]ebell.
God, didst not thou [...]ebuke those seas:
Natures great burthen and disease
When Peters Faith, his failing strength did cherish:
When calling loud
I'th watery cloud,
He cry'd, [...]ave Master or I perish.
Thou did'st my God, and thou the world,
And sinne my beaten Barke have h [...]l'd
In a more desperate storme, yet still I see,
And heare the say,
To thy poore clay,
Is any thing too hard [...]or mee.
The Inquisition.
1.
VVHere art tho [...] God, or where is hee
That can discover thee to mee,
The worlds without thee sure, for here
Doth domineere
Hell, flesh, and sinne, thou art not there.
2.
Doth Aire thy blessed spirit hold,
And [...]om our eyes thy sight unsold,
Thou art not there my God, for here
Doth domineere
Satan, aires Prince, thou art not there.
3.
Or doth thy sac [...]ed essence keepe
Court in the Chamber o [...] the deepe;
No sure my God, [...] not so, sor here
Doth domineere
Leviathan, thou art not there.
4.
Doth flames too subtill for our [...]ence
So spy impaild thy excellence;
No sure my God, not so, for here
Doth domineere
The fiery Prince, thou art not there:
In none of these confind, yet thou dost scatter
Thy presence, through both, earth, aire, fire; & wate [...]
5.
Each place containes thee God, yet thou
Art no where, no where dost remaine:
Though every place wee thee allow,
No place we know can thee containe.
[Page] Then I have found thee now though here,
Nor here thou art not yet, thou art
Both there and here, be any where,
So thou bee in my heart;
Where being Lord, let that thy closet bee,
To keepe thee safe in mee, and mee in thee:
A Proud man.
Vile worme of dust, vaine clay how durst thou vente [...]:
To [...]well thy selfe above the earth, thy center;
Vapors exhal'd and lifted to the skies,
Or dissipare or else prove prodigies:
Why being nothing art thou Bold to d'on
The ingloriou [...] itch of exaltation,
And by a pe [...]ulant pride disdainst to bee
More heightn'd by a selfe humility,
As if the Babell of thy thoughts could shroud
Th'aspi [...]ing battlements within a cloud,
And so the mighty machin safely stand,
Whose weaker basis is but mosse and sand,
Strange mystery of sinne, that drives us on
As farie as heaven to [...]ind perdition;
For wert thou there, and prov'd to bee so then.
Heaven would [...]ast downe a devill once agen:
Yet thus perhaps thy pride might [...]ed bee,
The Prince of Devils, doth but equall thee:
Change but the subject and some sins admit,
To h [...]mble minds a happy benefit.
To kill the man o [...] sin, to cove [...] grace,
To [...]resse by violence to Gods holy place,
C [...]ntention for a Crowne, for blessing strife,
Are sins that [...]ll mortalyty with life,
[Page] But to be proud, not to be proud addes more
Sinne to that pride, than pride had sinne before.
Meditation.
1.
MY God came downe in thunder once, but then
The sonnes of men
Affrighted at the dreadfull cracke,
Sounded, fell backe,
Desiring not his presence so agen.
2.
My God came downe in whirlewinds too, and flame,
But his great Name,
So blazon'd, did astonish more
Than heretofore,
When pointed thunder his loud Herrald came.
3.
My God came downe in flesh and blood, and then
The Sonnes of men,
To such familiar mercy call,
Their spleene and gall
To properate his hast to heaven agen.
4.
My God comes daily downe, in bread and wine,
A feast divine:
[Page] But grounds, and oxen hinder some,
They cannot come;
Exclude them then, sayes God, they are not mine.
5.
My God comes downe in each repentant teare
Which my sad feare,
Of his displeasure, and my sinne exhales
'Tis that which bales
My soule, for all the good shee's in a [...]teare.
6.
Come to mee still, my God, or else let mee;
So thou assist my footsteps, go [...] to thee.
I know the way, for if to thee I come,
Thou art as well the voyage as the home.
If thou to mee, my soule no passage feares:
[...]y thunder whitle winde, flesh, or [...]east, or teares.
T.B.
The Crosse.
1.
THere is no bud, but has a good
Art finds for basest-weedes an use:
Bodies distempered with grosse blood,
Find prese [...]vation from abuse.
For did not that inforce a breach,
Who'ld use incision, sweate, or leech?
2.
Did not my sinne divine my [...]all,
And by my weakenesse show my want:
Security would never call
To God, nor for his merry pa [...].
For where there is no sence of evill,
The soule benumm'd admits the devil [...]
3.
The heaviest Crosse had some [...]enowne,
And sharpest thornes this balsome had:
That though they were my Saviours Crowne,
They did produce a good from bad.
The cause most vile, th'effect most good,
That was my sinne, but this his blood.
4.
Though bad my sinne, it saved my [...]al',
My weakenesse too, my want did show:
These did awake me, made me call
And to my God for mercy goe.
Happy this Larum of my evill,
My soule awakt defie the devill
5.
Then happy Crosse and healing Thorne,
Light burthen, and balsamicke flower:
Eased by that, by this untorne,
[Page] My new-erected soule hath power,
To blesse you both, whose good effects
Spur'd up my stupid si [...]es neglects:
And making gaine from such a losse,
Unto a Crowne transferre a Crosse,
T. B.
The Resurrection.
IS no time certaine when or how, yet m [...]st
Some certa [...]ne time det [...]rmine I am dust?
Must these full bones, and swelling ve [...]es appeare
[...]aplesse and dry, as when the [...]alling yeare
Exhauste [...] the humour from the [...]erdant bough,
Whi [...]h did greene liveries to the leaves allow?
And must it be from my decay resolv'd,
That my whole fabricke once must be dissolv'd?
'Tis true my soule, 'tis so: yet let no care
Drive my anxious thought how thou shalt feate,
There is a [...]ch preservative for thee,
Above all balsome, call'd fidelity,
And when my Masse of congregated clay,
Shall in Earth [...] Vinevard labour out the day,
The penny shall be thine: and he that can
From Rockes and Stones, [...]ai [...]e seed to Abraham,
Shall raise thy dissipated dust: and glew
Thee in coherence, with thy corpes anew.
Strange miracle! yet La [...]a [...]us can tell,
This Paradox in him, found paralell
I doe bele [...]ve it Lord: Oh! let me be,
As happy to enjoy my faith as he,
T.B.
Conscience.
SEe the blacke clouds of my aspiring sinne,
Whose noxious exhalations beginne
To muffle up my hopes, and swelling high,
Terminate no where till they touch the skye:
Sh [...]ill clamma [...]ous Conscience, dost thou think my God
Like Ba [...]ll, his chinne upon his brest doth nod,
And waken [...] not unlesse thy cry (which is
A thousand Lar [...]ms) added be to his?
Busie Recorder, know 'st thou not I finde,
Through the wholl series of a sinfull minde,
That 'tis enough to sinne? the bu [...]hen's more
When after-checks tell what I did before:
And gives ill rellish to my sicke condition.
To taste such Viands by a repetition [...]
Yet happy be (my soule) for stupid scence,
Might [...]o relaxe th [...] in [...]entive Conscience,
That from its prone [...]ndeavour it might be
No lesse then guilty by indulgency.
Oh! prosecute [...] still, quicke Conscience, doe
And may I my repentance do [...] so too;
That when my Judge doth find thy judgement past
App [...]as'd he say, lost sheepe come home at last.
T. B.
The Mercy Seate.
1.
PAssing along, as I o [...]t passe that way,
I heard one from the Sanctuary say,
[Page] Ho! ho! come in
All you that sinne,
And I will take the burthen cleane away.
H [...]ke soule said I, oh! harke, the Number's All,
The mercy and the cry both generall.
2.
With [...]h [...] my soule and I, two that had bin
Long stale-companions in the sweetes of sinne.
Approacht that place
Bright shine of grace,
And ask [...] if such a mercy [...]odg'd there in,
Oh yes! sayes one, before your Throne appeare,
Take in your hear [...] a sigh, your eye a teare.
3.
Then to a spotlesse Altar I was brough [...],
Where God to Man is Cha [...]acted in thought,
Upon which stood
A crimson blood.
Whose every drop a thou and soules had bought.
And there I kneel'd, for oh! wh [...] gesture is
Or can be in this action too submisse?
4.
I [...]ooke and [...]asted from the field and vine,
Their two best Elements of bread and wine,
And my soule straight
Had lost the waight,
Which did before disease its rest and mine.
[Page] I sound the cause was this, that I [...]ed,
My soule [...]ooke in more God, then I did bread.
5.
Loud voice, large mercy, boundlesse [...]ood, sweete vine,
Proclaime, forgive, wash, cleanse this soule of mine,
That to thy glory
I may story,
Both worke and subject of that mercy thine.
Thine? thine my God, [...]istrue: Oh! let me be
As neare that attribute, as that to thee.
T. B.
The Present.
What shall I doe my God for thee?
Thee, that hast done so much for me.
For when I opened first the wombe to live
In this low soyle
Of sweate and [...]oyle,
Thou didst the meanes and guidance give.
My age is but a span or two,
A twist, which death can soone undoe:
A white, shot at by many an ayming dart,
A restlesse ball,
Banded by all,
Advers [...]ies that tosse a heart.
Then search within me, and without,
Imploy thy not [...]e round about:
[Page] Survey me well, and finde in which part lyes.
A thing so fit,
That I may it
Preferre to thee for sacrifice.
Though some present thee gold; or some
Rich Easterne smels, Myrthe, [...]ynamum,
Or some proclaime thee in a d [...]eper straine,
Which dyes before,
'Tis twice read o're,
In its owne wombe, and [...]ombe, their braine.
Let me bring thee, my God, a heart,
Entitled th [...]e in every pa [...]t,
Next that, a Verse like this, on which mine
Be longer set,
Than [...]o [...]orge [...],
That such a present thou shouldst fine.
Let others, so with men their credites prove,
They show them wealth and wit; I thee my love,
T. B.
Ad punctum mo [...]tis.
IF this hou [...]e doe the businesse of my age
For being borne I must resolve to dye,
With wh [...]t delight can I sup [...]ly the stage,
M [...]h cannot [...]uite well with a [...]ragedy;
Leave me delight, and let my sorrowes tell
[Page] Heaven is my joy, the joy of earth my Hell.
AEgypt's the way to Canaan, what though he [...]e
The Pharaoh's of the time did me oppose,
Yet thy deliverance shall protect me there,
The greatest discord have the sweetest close;
Let my assurance here my joyes expresse,
That's the good land, this but th [...] Wildernesse.
Onyons and Garlicke, and the flesh-po [...]stoo,
Let them desire that have a list to eate [...]
My pallat cannot rellish what they doe,
Manna, my God, I know is Angels mea [...]e;
But if this place affords it not to me,
Take me to Canaan since it is with thee.
Art thou not beauty Lord, to whom the Sunne,
At height of glory is so darke a blot,
That when tho [...] didst obscure thy blessed Sonne
The other had his wonted light forgot.
Yet in that blest Ecclipse, this turn d such light
That earth saw heaven, though heaven was hid in night
To the Angels.
1.
A Safe humility is wise,
Both to it sel [...]e and others to,
I know there's starres, but use mine eyes
To finde out what they cannot doe,
For though they both partake of light
Both have not equall sence in [...]ight,
2.
And is it safe you glor [...]ous lights,
That this dull glimering sparke, my soule,
A [...]ect to know those boundlesse heights,
Where your exal [...]ed spirits rule;
Or were my wisedome better spent
To [...]each my heart at home content.
3.
Yet as in dungeons we behold,
Through some small chinke a glimering ray,
And thence assured we are bold,
To thinke without there is a day,
So you discover to our sence
Your excellence by your influence,
4.
Blest Children, of a more bl [...]st Father.
Ile not discou [...]se your story,
For my affections had much rather,
Partake than speake your glory,
Speake your owne glory, you that can,
Which no man ere shall know as man.
5.
And yet I care not I what Quite
[Page] Of Che [...]ub's, Seraphin's, or Thrones.
Or Angels, lower are or higher,
Since all I know are holy ones,
If I keepe time with any Qui [...]e,
I like the seate, Ile with no higher.
6.
Farewell sweete Qui [...]e, farewell I say,
This glimpse at distance doth confute
All my discourse, and makes me pray
To know you there without dispute.
And since I long to meete, least I shall stray,
Guide you your Lovet on upon his way.
T.B.
On AEternity.
GOod God! eternity, what can,
A [...]onish more the faith of man?
When it shall please thee God that I
On my unfriendly sicke bed lye,
And those about me shall descry,
In my pale face deaths livery.
When breath shall fleete, and leave for me
The relique of deaths victory,
A grim sad coarse, oh must my light,
Astonisht [...]o [...]le, then take her flight,
To that long home, where it shall see [...]
Or blest, or curst AEternity?
[Page] Shall shee for ever, ever dwell,
Or Saint in heaven, or fiend in hell?
When ages numberlesse are gone,
Shal't be [...]s if wee had past none?
'Tis so my God, which when I thinke;
My staggard reason 'gins to sinke:
My braine turnes giddy, and weake I
Am rapt in wonders extasie:
Forgive mee Lord, that thus presume,
To question thy eternall doome.
And since our minute life must gaine
Pleasures eternall, or such paine:
As [...]ist mee so my God, that when
I shall for sake the sonnes of men,
My jocond soule may sainted bee,
In heaven, and thy eternity.
Em.D.
On the death of Mris. M. T.
MIstaken virgins, do not drop a teare,
She is not dead beleev't, I'le make't appeare:
That which you call a hearse, is nought beside
A heavenly charet, in't a glorious bride.
And that which you more fondly [...]e [...]ne a grave,
Mysterious heaven, for her bride-bed gave
Thus you mistaken, to a [...]unerall haste,
When you're invited to a marriage [...]east:
Heaven was her lover, would not be deny'd,
The welcome promise of so faire a Bride.
Which long since having, hee now thought it best
T'espouse, and take her to his happy rest.
[Page] And as wee see great Princes, ere they take,
Their royall consorts, they by proxie make
The ceremonious marriage; so did hee,
By proxie death, wed her immo [...]tally:
And now inthron'd, she doth [...]it an [...] sing [...]
Divinest Anthems to her Lord and King.
'Mongst quires of Angels, she doth fill the skies,
With sweete tun'd notes of heavenly rapsidies.
Thus gloriously happy doth shee still live,
Whose death you [...]ondly, and unkindly grieve.
Em.D.
FINIS.