Whoever buyes this Book will say,
There's so much Money thrown away:
The Author thinks you are to blame,
To buy a Book without a Name;
And to say truth, it is so bad,
A worse is no where to be had.

London, Printed in the year, 1667.

To the Reader.

Courteous Reader,

THE whole world (imaginably) is but one great market; and all mankind in it, are distinguish'd into buyers and sellers, who either truck for, or buy Commodities; parti­cularly in Books, where for money or exchange, we take our choice, and in our own Election please our selves; Mens judgments, as their [Page] appetites are very different, the Market's free to buy or cheapen: who buyes upon the sellers word, may be de­ceived, who chooseth ill de­ceives himself.

I doe not promise for my Book nor say 'tis good, but here's variety and each man (of his own pallat) is the cer­tain judge: it may please some, to them 'tis good, by whom dislik'd, to them as bad.

VVhen the Gazets are cry'd, we buy in expectation of some thing new, yet though the [Page] news be ne're so good, in three days time'tis laid aside, though we were pleased with our pe­ny worth: I cannot expect a better fortune in this compo­sition, 'tis now expos'd to your censure; If it meet with gene­rous Patrons, I am oblig'd to serve you agen, and better, from your incouragement.



PAge 5 for Plunder, r. Plunders. p. 7. l. 21. f. when, r. where. p. 9. l. 10. r. if all black coats. p. 11. l. 6. f. nad r. had. p. 17. l. 20. f. scraple, r. scruples. p. 19. l. 24. r. indebted. p. 30. l. in the Title, 1. Ma [...]cus Aurelius. l. 22. r. and as a stream. p. 34. l. 29. f. antiquity, r. antiquities. p: 40. l. 7. f. treasures, r. treasuries. p. 41. in the title, r. since fortune thou art grown so.—p. 43. l. 29. r. one pictur'd would [...] cut in. p. 5. l. 6. read with a little thing for a certain. p. 50. l. 7. r. Rabbet, Rabbet, Rabbet, or. p. 58. l. 9. f. the floock, r. his flock. l. 10. f. kidds, r. kiddeys. p. 66. l. 26. f. devil, r. devils. p. 74. l. 10. r. his pike shrinks in his hand. p. 79. l. 1. dele to. p. 92. l. 15. r. she nimbly whisks it about. p 95. l. 2. r. Hopkins jiggs the soltheads. l. 4. f. homily, r. homely. p. 102. l. 9. f. hornes, r. horn. p. 114. l. 18, f. those boors, r. rebels.

Folly in Print: OR, A Book of Rhymes.
The Cotsal Sheapheards.

To the Tune of Amarillis told her Swain.
ALL ye that love, or who pretends,
Come listen to my Sonnet,
Black-baggs or vizards, who have friends,
Or English Teags or Bonnets,
See here our Sheapheardess, and Swain,
How they make love on Cotsall Plain.
Amarillis why so coy,
Think'st thou that the winged Boy,
Can never overtake thee;
Colin (no) I flye not him
But thou who wilt forsake me.
[Page 2]
Dearest I forsake my Sheep,
And forget to eat or sleep,
To follow Amarillis,
And dying lye down at thy feet,
Since such thy cruel will is.
Treason makes a goodly show,
Black that's cover'd ore with Snow;
The eye doth not discover,
I must have more assurance yet
E're I become a Lover.
In extreamest winter cold,
I hunt Foxes from thy fould,
Nor will I marry Phillis;
But in thine abscence close mine eyes,
and call on Amarillis.
Yet thou didst the other day
At our pastoralls in May,
Hear Coridon to jeere me;
Who said I was not yet so fair,
That Colin need to fear me.
Envy cannot make thee foul,
Nor fine words make fayrer fool;
Nor Clownes can change their natures.
'Ile dye to tell the world that you
Exceed them all in features.
Colin live, for I am thine,
Drive thy Flocks up unto mine,
I'le yield to thy Imbraces;
And Chant thee pleasing Round delayes,
Do thou foot comely Paces.
Happy Collin, fayrest Maid,
My grief and care, thou hast allay'd,
With words so sweetly charming,
Now on this Banke, thou shalt confess
I fear no others harming.
Dearest Colin stay awhile,
The time with talke we will beguile,
Till Evening shall befriend us;
Wee'l then take in, that happiness
Which love anon will send us.
Now Colin, Amarillis now
He did, she did, swear and vow,
They'd never part asunder;
Forsworne they part, and meet agen,
But that's no lovers wonder.

The English Seamans Fortune, with a Dutch Ufro, at the burning of Scelling.

To the Tune of Phillis though thy powerful Charms.
FAyre Maids who pass by, give ear to my song,
So short and so sweet, you'l not think it long
Come buy all my Ballads, I have no more,
Rich hangings for walls, or your Chamber door.
To'th Sea brave English men apace,
The Prizes stay, till you give chace,
One broad-side, down their Colours fall,
Divide the purchase, 'mongst you all,
Then each man to his mate shall say,
God send us such another day,
We need no more at Sea to Roame,
With Nan and Boss, weel fight at home.
Your Merchant Voyages are long,
The Seas are rough and Pirates strong,
And when y'ave toyld for little pay,
One Frolick spends it in a day:
The Dutchmen are your Indies now,
And victory will crown your Brow;
Your Countrey shall your welcome sing,
The Bells within your Pockets ring.
Some few, as happily are dead,
Who living lye, in honours-bedd:
What City, Town, or Village can
But boast, that they had such a man:
Who kill'd ten Dutchmen ere he fell,
And thousand Canons rung his knell:
The swift rebounding Ecchoes fly
To tell the world 'tis I, 'tis I.
Those who before had names unknown,
Are now proclaimed, by Trumpets blown,
Great Generalls, and men of fame,
Are fellow Actors, in this game;
How bravely have you chose to dye,
Remembred in such company,
Whil'st others are in surfets drown'd,
And dye forgotten, ye are crown'd.
But now the storm, and Scheling fire,
A true relation doth, require:
The landing fight, and bold advance,
The Souldiers wish 'Thad been in France,
But wine and Feathers, or Kich-chose,
Can never make amends, for blowes;
Ye must have plunders rich, and prize,
To dazle the beholders eyes.
The Newes-books tells us of the fact,
How Holmes and others there did act,
Of Bibles, Knives, and silver Spoons,
[Page 6] Of Carpets wrought, in Turkish moons,
Of Pewter, Brass, and such like stuff
To frait the Fleet there was enough,
But I remember must my friend
To whom this Ballad I commend.
His Father 'mongst the Cavaliers,
Had payd for jealousies and fears,
This son the yongest was of three,
His fortune small, must go to Sea,
Where he hath had a lucky hitt,
Through courage added to his witt,
And brought a fire, (to warm his bedd)
From Schelling, a Dutch-Maydenhead.
A Maid amongst the fairest faire,
Black-eye, and slender, Debonaire
And by Dewitt, her uncle sent,
To see her Aunt, in Complement;
Who when the English landed there,
Surpriz'd with such a sudden fear,
Gave all her Jewels to her neece,
But th'were our Seamans Golden Fleece.
For as she trembling, stood to gaze,
When first the fire, began to blaze
O [...] Mariner, who that way came
Saw be [...], he thought, the greater flame,
Whom she endeavour'd not to shun
But Fate directing, to him run,
[Page 7] Mine Liven-here, but save my life
She said, and take me for thy wife.
He'rs Rings, and Jewels, Gold and Pearl
Enough, to make an English Earl;
He took her in his armes, and swore,
He wish'd her less, to love her more;
Then chang'd her habit having found,
A man's was drop't upon the ground;
Aboard he goes, with his fine boy,
And now, I hope you'l give them joy.
The Captain viewing well his prise
A ransome offer'd to those eyes,
Believing something there of note
Was Clouded in a Seamans Coat;
But she reply'd this Marriner
Brought me aboar'd, his Prisoner
From all, but him, I must be free,
His Cabbin-mate, I mean to be.
In little time, on shoar they went,
And to the west their journey bent;
VVhen at his Fathers P [...]ivate seat
They both, their fortunes, did repeat,
Then marry'd were and brought to bed
Till then, she kept her Maydenhead,
And since, with Jewels, which they sold,
A Mannour bought, with English Gold.

Three merry Boyes of Kent.

To the Tune of an old song, beginning thus ‘I rode from England into France. Or to the Tune of Sir John Sucklings Ballad.
IF you can finde it out, Hear's wit,
The Poet thought so when he writ,
but looking over it agen,
He found not one Conceit in ten
VVho ever writes, in prose or verse,
Gives black and white to his own hearse;
VVhen you have pay'd, and seen a play,
You'l bear more (hence) for less, away.
Of Mandeville, I do not tell,
Nor Cromwells Citadel in Hell;
No Quaker Dogg, nor wife,
Nor of the King of France at Brest,
VVith fourscore thousand horse, at least,
VVho daunce to Drumm, and fife.
Of three good fellowes, I must sing,
Who love good wine, obey the King;
And in a pleasant fit
Of late, at Temple stairs took horse,
I wish all women, do no worse,
For we cross-legg'd did sit.
But straight we heard a Swine-heards horn
Who call'd his Cattel forth the Corn,
Where they broke in to root;
Yet in such haste, came to the trough,
As if they nere could have enough
The Dele and all to boot.
Such fat black hoggs in Spain we saw
Where they have all this common law
So soon as fat are kill'd;
If some black cloaks were served so
They would not sweat and labour so,
To get their bellies fill'd.
Then close by Bridewel Dock we came,
Where pretty sinners spinn for Fame
And hempe for Newgate beat,
But Kingdoms have their certain date
And Londons sad, and Dooms-days fate
Hath made them change their seat.
But we affrighted at the ghosts,
Of chimnyes, steeples, half burnt posts
Tot'h bridge, we swiftly came,
Where fire and water seem'd to agree,
I'le burn this part, leave that to thee,
Yet both increas'd the flame.
Then we approach'd the water fall
And through a breach, in that old wall
[Page 10] Like Souldiers entered in,
Where we surrounded were with noyse
As if that there ten thousand boys,
Were carting Bawds for sin.
Old Porter Tame, at Denmark stayrs
By Isis (water-nymph) had heirs
Who in the west are bred;
Yet twice a day, run to and fro,
Saluting Parents as they go
And see their Subjects sedd.
In former times, they had a warr
VVith Neighbours who incroach'd so farr,
Their Subjects did complain
Unless a peace they would agree
And open trade into the sea,
They should no longer raign.
At length agreed, a league was made
That both the land, and the sea trade
Should equally divide;
And made a bridg with Avenues *
[Page 11] VVhich neither party shall abuse
Or by a law be try'd.
At Billingsgate wee then arrive
And found no people there alive
But Oysters gaping wide,
And sure had they had tongues would tell
VVhat nasty Jades brought them to sell
VVhich cannot be deny'd.
Those Bacchanalians we found
Strowd here and there upon the ground
VVhere such discoveries;
Columbus nor Sir Francis Drake
In all their voyages did make
Nor such gulfes enterprise.
A thigh uncloathed, not bare, nor skinn
But scales of fish where flesh had been
A legg with piss-dy'd clout,
A pack-thred gatter which had ty'd
A horse legg, that o'th farcy dy'd,
And such was all the rout.
Had legions of Devils been
But there they might have enter'd in
Their breaches were so wide,
Had not a Herricane of wine
Broke forth from all parts, like sea-brine
To cool the Devils pride.
These haggs it seems a cellar found
Where in Canary they were drownd
And drank in Oyster pecks;
Then rould themselves in postures more
Then Aretine ere taught before
But sav'd their drunken necks.
Agen our wodden horse we spurr;
After at least an hours demurre,
The bell at Towre did ring;
Where we the Lyons could not see
There was so much Presbitery
Who came to hear them sing.
Going from thence on t'other side
The wind and water-mills we spy'd
'Tis not so strange as true,
The millers grind for e'ry Maid
And take no Toll, but she is payd
The Del'e must have his due.
Then downwards we to Wapping glide
Where brave bold Pirates have been ty'd
In bonds to drink no more;
Yet made to drink, though not adry
Water, wherein they swimm and fly
Who drank good wine before. 2
At Ratcliffe now we would not touch
The Seaman lately did so much,
They needed not our ayde;
But unto Cuckolds Haven came,
Those Hornes of fortune, and of fame,
Makes all the world afraid.
The Butchers in the Romans time,
And so the Butchers in our clime
Do offer Sacrifice.
To fortune, Rome a Temple built,
And they a Poast with Horns have guilt,
That Dazled all our eyes.
This place miscalled, weeping cross,
VVhere he that gets, laments his loss;
'Tis jealousy creates
More Knights of Fame, with Coates and crests,
Then Ireland sent us horned beasts,
Before the last debates.
But we would have the Irish go,
Unless they bring their women too
Blew bonnets and mafoyes;
Let altogether homewards trudge,
We have enow at home can drudg,
And get our women boyes.
But now our homages were paid,
Our selves to Deptford we conveighed,
[Page 14] You must not think it much
That they build there, strong Towns of wood,
Are garrison'd with men and food,
To beat the sawcy Dutch.
At Greenwich then we went on shore,
Our Countreymen were in a Roar,
Who thought we had been lost,
But our adventures being told,
They swore that we were very cold,
Which wee beleiv'd before.
God bless the Town, we call'd for fire
And sack that warms a little higher,
And for a Maid and meat;
The Bells bid welcome to the Town,
And all the lasses up and down,
Are now prepar'd to treat.

The Hampshire Mayd, or the Wenches Progress.

FAyre Mayds and young Men,
Come circle me round,
Theres not one in ten,
If bucksome and sound,
But here will commend our blith Hampshire lass,
And do as she did, what ere comes to pass,
Or if she do not, will be counted an Ass,
To the sweet tune of Samuel Rosye, or the Kings Clown.
JOan Towser, am I call'd,
And I love lusty Robin:
Though he be rough
He's sure enough,
And flouts as well as Scogin.
But if he does not please me,
And comes not at my calling,
With Tom or Dick,
I will not stick
To wrastle for a falling.
And if they fall upon me,
Although that I lye under,
'Ile kick and fling
Like any thing,
Shall make them both to wonder.
If Doll or Kate will tarry
Be coy, and yet stay longer,
'Ile not be sick,
But play the trick,
I ne're shall do it younger.
For if that I should tarry,
Until my Father wedd me:
[Page 16] I should loose ten
Good Husbandmen,
Who sooner would behead me.
This six months have I longed,
Now 'lle be mine own carver:
For one poor man
Do what he can,
Will only be my starver.
But I have been so ruffl'd
I finde my belly swelling,
In London Town
I'le lay it down,
Where I will take my dwelling.
The Carryer came up with me
A well trust, lusty Roger,
[...] broad 'ith Back
As any Pack,
'Im sure he was no dodger.
He us'd me then so kindely,
And called me his dear honey,
But I know not,
What ere he got,
'Im sure he got no money:
Now I am at my Lodging,
To entertain a Prentice,
[Page 17] And he shall pay
For Robin's play;
His Masters cash my rent is.
But when their cash doth fail me,
Then I am for your gallant;
A Redcoat Knight
Is my delight,
For to improve my Talent.
Next I my case will open,
A man of Law shall plead it;
Though he were blinde,
Hee'l surely finde
The way for him to read it.
Then to the City Lectures
With Bible tread demurely,
My rowling eyes
And holy lyes,
Will get a Brother surely.
Next, some good Able-Teacher,
My Scruple must resolve me,
For hee's the man
Who will and can
Abundantly absolve me.
My Half-crown at a Playhouse,
Young Heirs and Lords sit by me,
[Page 18] VVith China-fruits,
Commence their suits,
Like VVater-men they ply me.
But when the play is ended,
And each man hopes a favour;
My Coach is gone,
But here is one
My Lord sayes, Now I have her.
The Streets I walk at Twi-light,
And justle, if I like him,
Then pardon ask,
Pull of my Mask,
'Tis ten to one I strike him.
Sometimes I shrink as fearful,
VVhen any man comes nigh me,
Let fall my Glove,
And then my Love
Will take it up and try me.
How happy this Incounter,
Replies my civil Cully,
And this fair hand
Shall now be man'd,
Sothus I catch my Bully.
But not unto my lodging,
I dare not for my Mother,
[Page 19] Or have an Aunt,
Will give and graunt,
A sister or a brother.
Yet I will give a meeting,
But you shall promise further,
No other force,
But your discourse,
Or I will cry out murther.
And thus my Nets are spreading,
To catch my Woodcocks flying:
Yet seem as coy
As any Boy,
And am as often crying.
Then I complain my fortune
How I did first miscarry:
A friend untrue,
Did me pursue,
Who promis'd me to marry.
But he came up to London,
I followed my false lover;
To Sea he's gone,
Or lives unknown,
Where I cannot discover.
For Chamber-rent inbted;
And on the score for feeding,
[Page 20] Till money come
To me from home;
Where I have had good breeding.
But if some friend that's noble▪
Would free me from this trouble,
Then by this kiss,
I will be his;
And thus I blow my bubble.
Some puny Toasts I wheadle,
With such like brittle stories,
But finde much more,
Who call me whore,
And kick to Rutt like Tories.
Though I get store of money,
The Devils in my trading,
When Pimp and Baud,
And Bravo's paid,
I must take in fresh lading.
And now in Covent Garden
I lodge, a wife forsaken
A Cavalier;
My Husband dear,
By Pirates lately taken.
This place I cannot rest in,
Young Rogues are grown so cunning,
[Page 21] I shall be smoaked,
And soon uncloaked,
Therefore I must be running.
Now I'le pass for a widow,
My waiter and my woman,
In duty they,
So rich must say,
At least I'm for a Yeoman.
And I have many Suitors,
With treats and presents striving;
But must be gone,
They'l finde anon,
I am unfit for wiving.
I water make for faces,
And have learnt to cut patches;
But that's a trade,
As much decay'd,
As that of selling Matches.
I'le back into the Countrey,
And show them my good breeding,
No, 'tis too late
'Im out of date,
I shall not get my feeding.
Then have amongst the lasses,
Who will if you be willing,
[Page 22] In wheatstones Park,
Give you a mark,
Cost more then forty shillings.
Now you know where to finde me,
At school with Mother Con [...]y;
Then have at all,
Both great and small,
For love or else for money.

The Perspective of Mortality.

HOw vain are all our best delights;
Like shortest days to Winters-nights
Scarce well awake, till our lives-noon
A sickly light, and day is done,
Most wretched mankind, seeming free,
Hath less (then Creatures) liberty;
Help-less, and crying, brought to light
Nurs'd up in hazards, Parents fright,
Taught to be pleased with toys, and then
Forbid delights, when we are men;
Then war, or sickness, want, or trouble,
Blown up with sin, doth break the bubble.

To a Detraction from the Authour.

THough I be no Logician,
Nor yet good Naturalist,
[Page 23] Nor seen the strange American
Whom the neer Sun hath kist:
I may be honest, modest, free,
And charitable too,
Obedient to God may be,
What have I more to do?
Desire of knowledge led the way,
Sin follow'd swiftly on,
Both Learn'd and Ignorant astray
Have led Religion:
Best knowledge by Humility,
Is taught in wisdoms School;
All other new Philosophy
Makes wisemen play the fool.

Upon the Fatall years of 1665 and 1666.

WHat Fate averse, doth Damon guide
To breath an age of Prodigies,
Kings have no Subjects, who are ty'd
By any Rule, but Vanities,
Law, nor Religion, thought good,
Not first Baptiz'd, in humane blood.
Incorrigible Race of Worms,
Whom neither Plague, nor War can win,
Nor fruitful peace, but in new forms,
Call virtue vice, and vice no sin;
'Twere better to believe in lies,
Then to confess, and truth despise.
In this last Age, of wonders sent
The will of Heaven to declare;
We will not see, but willfull bent,
Say bold, and wisemen, do not fear
Times-past, the like hath seen, or more
Variety, is natures store.
Thus sensually we dispute,
Against the light of blessed truth,
Till deaths strong Arguments confute
The Follies of our Age and Youth,
And Nature then resolves the doubt
That we were in, when we were out.

To the Authours wife, in time of the Sickness, when he was beyond the Seat.

HOw happy hadst thou Reymund been
When wash't from guilt Original,
And cleer from any mortal sin,
If then had been thy Funeral,
But now (alass) afraid to dy,
Because thy Clara, is not by.
Almighty Power, whose Providence
Supports my seeble house of Clay,
Do not remove, my Clara hence
But give us both a longer day,
That both together, we may praise
Our Lord of life, our length of days.
I know thou knowest, Great God above,
Her heart doth to thy worship bow,
Yet She to me, thou gav'st to Love,
By holy Sacramental vow;
Do not Shut up, our day so soon,
For yet (O Lord) it is but noon.
Remember now, thy promis'd aid,
Though thousands fall on every hand,
I will not therefore be afraid,
The Angels are at thy Command:
Protect her Lord, and so bless me,
We may together, ever be.


Afflictions plough the Heart of man,
Fits it for wisdoms seed,
Then Grace brings forth her blest increase
Whereon the soul doth feed.
We must be broken e're made strait,
And wounded to be cur'd;
Who would not suffer little pain
To have his health assur'd?
Crosses and dangers which are past,
With pleasure we repeat,
The Psalmist never sung so sweet,
As in a Shepherds seat.
Physick displeasing to the taste
Nature assists, to health,
How comes it then, we do not wish
For loss producing wealth.
Miser-mankind, who will not give
One penny from his heap,
Accursed thrist, to loose a life
So dear, and sav'd so cheap.
Wound me, O Lord, and make me whole,
Bind men, and set me free,
Nay, kill men, so I then may live,
And die to All but thee.

An Elegie on Mistriss Anne Leonard, daughter to Sir Moulton Lambert.

DEad is the mirrour of her Sex, the Stem
Of a fair spreading Cedar, natures Gem,
Whose Gnossian Crown, presents her aged Syre
A brighter Star, then Ariadnes fire;
Alas, dear Parents, would I could expres;
Her virtues more, to make your sufferings less:
She's gone before, your places to prepare,
The Child provides to ease the parents care:
Rare Hierogliphick of a Saint, by death
In her they learn to live, who gave her breath,
Earth's seeming joys she leaves, and the worlds glory
Flies, and forgets, for a Memento Mori.
[Page 27] Poor worldless-world, thy longest joyes afford
As short a span of pleasure, as the gourd
Which Jonas had, 'tis time thou now return
To Chaos, or as tribute to her Urn
Pay thine own ashes, and Erect a toomb
That may out live Mausolus, leave no room
'Twixt Pyramid and Skie, whence Angels shall
Descend to Celebrate her Festival;
And her Harmonious voyce instruct to Sing
Loud Hallelujahs, to great Salems King
In holy Quire, whose joy is to behold
A Lyons Lamb recover'd to the Fold.

Alluding to the names of Leonard and Lambert.

ANd now her Angel Soul, in Heaven hath place
With Judah's Lyon, and the Lamb of Grace.
Dead is my Dear, a dream is my desire,
And yet my flesh, in hope, shall here respre.

In super & Caro meu requiescit in Spe.


TO do well, is a Princely thing,
Though some do speak it Ill,
Rash Judges, will condemn a King
To gratifie their will.
The' advantage of a Noble mind
In difficulties shows,
Higher it raiseth them we find,
Lesse active overthrows.
Her that will raise a building high
Magnificent to show,
Must first look downward with his eye,
and build as deep below.
Sometimes a heart disposed well,
Within the brain doth breed,
Right understanding to do well,
The fruit is like the seed.
But all who names of men do bear,
Are not so to be thought;
Unless at helm, doth reason steer
In Laws of virture taught.
The strong, the fierce, bold, stout, and tall,
The hardy, wise, and fair,
Rich, highly born, renown'd withal
Are Epithetes of Ayr.
whom reason rules not, beasts must be
Abusing so, their own degree.

The Cause of Paganism at first in the world.

NAture corrupt, and knowledge blind
By Adams fall, those sparks and seeds
Of heavenly light, yet left behind
Appearing then, broke forth in weeds.
For wanting grace, and power, to grow
To first perfection, did decline
To superstition, and so
Worship to creatures did assign.
Mans fearful mind, strange gods did make,
Which Custom, with the power of Hell,
Such root in all mankind did take,
That worst of Ills, they deemed well.
Some Worship'd Devils, some mens Ghosts,
And others bow'd to Fowl and Fish,
To Herbs, and bones, and Painted-poasts,
They knew not what themselves would wish.
The Planets, Fire, the Air, and Sea,
And every running Brook beside,
No Virtue, nor no Vice; but they
Had with false Worship them bely'd.
Some God or Goddess was assign'd
To all of these; Oh! wretched men
[Page 30] Whose stubborn wills to sin inclin'd
God suffer'd fall, but rais'd agen.
Such mercies may we ever finde
To worship that eternal light,
Who rais'd the dead, and cur'd the blinde,
And sav'd from everlasting night.

Upon a wise saying of Marcus Auralius Antoni­nus.

A Heathen Emperour doth teach
What Christians ought to do,
Nature corrupt, to us doth preach,
And gives example too.
The time of mans life's as a point,
The substance ever flowes,
The sence obscure, doth disappoint
Him, when he thinks he knowes.
Our bodies whole composure tends
To base coruption,
Our souls are restless till our ends,
Then none knowes whither gone.
Fortunes uncertain, doubtfulfame,
And a s stream that's past;
Things of our bodies and our name,
Blank Lots have drawn at last.
And as a dream, or Smoak are things
belonging to the Soul,
They pass away like sounds of strings,
Or flights of swiftest fowl.
Our life's a pilgrimage, or warr,
And fame when life is done,
In little time's forgot so farr,
That 'tis Oblivion.
One thing remains Philosophy,
Consisting in this act;
Thy Spirit keep from injury,
Or Contumolious fact.
Above all pains and pleasures too,
Do nothing rash or fain'd,
Nor over-critically do,
So keep thy minde unstain'd.
From thine own actions depend,
Imbracing with content
What ever comes, which he doth send,
Whence thou art also sent.
'Bove all things, death with chearfulness
Expect, since 'tis no more
But Elements resolvedness,
To what they were before.
This dissolution to all,
So common do not shun,
Nature bespeaks thy Funeral,
Which creep not to, but runn.
No ill in nature 'tis to dye,
To nature tis accordingly;


The ignorant and wilfull worldings say,
As he who bid good morning to the day,
Next to his Gold, and that's esteemed best,
Which is most profitable 'bove the rest;
If they mean profitable to a man
As he is rational, then I can
With them agree, but as a creature then
I them reject, as bad and senceless men.
Let nothing cause thee, violate thy faith,
Immov'd by flattery what any saith.
Loose not thy modesty, nor hate nor curse,
Dissemble not, an Hypocrite is worse.
What ere requires, the secrecy of walls,
Lust not thou after, nor the white of vayles.
Thy rational part, and Spirit keepe,
The Sacred misteries of virtues deep
Within thy heart; how happy then is he,
Wants neither solitude nor company?
Neither laments, exclaims, nor sighes in vain,
But lives without desire, or fear, or pain:
For life or death, he is indifferent,
Who neither seeks nor shuns, but takes whats, sent.

Upon the Proverbe.

HE that considers winde and rain,
Shall neither sow nor reap;
This proverb sure was made for Spain,
Where gravity is cheap.
Nothing shall discompose his gate,
His beads and box perfum'd:
Though Hay lestones fall upon his pate,
His hat of is presum'd.
Yet he this Proverb so doth cross,
For all he doth is so,
Though he doth suffer any loss,
He alwaies answers no.
The Sun and Earth, were made you know
For him, and fertil South,
'Tis base, to reap or stoop so low,
The fruit falls in his mouth.
For ev'ry action there is yet
A fitting season when,
Tis time to speak, or silent sit,
Where prudence governs men.
A time may be, when as the words
Of poor and simple wights,
[Page 34] May profit more than all the Swords
U'sd in the strongest sights.
That City truly found it so,
Which the poor man did save,
As in the Proverbs said to do,
By'th counsel which he gave.
The Power of wise and Eloquent,
'Th'out opportunity,
Is nothing but our labour spent,
As charmes to Adders be.

Upon the Rebell Moores in Affrica, now Maho­metans.

HOw happy wert thou Affrica,
By holy Saints inhabited,
When Augustine and Monicha,
Did teach to thee Christ Crucifide.
A Catalogue of Martyrs there,
Display'd the Banner of the Cross,
And ledd the way, that without fear,
Yee might by death sustain no loss.
One drop of blood, for Jesus spent
Enricheth more your fertil soyl,
Then all those Rains, by Clouds are sent,
With all your labour and your toyl;
Yee blind, where such antiquitie
Are extant, spread all o're your Land,
[Page 35] Yet will not see your vanities,
Nor truth from falsehood understand.
Had you not seen and then believ'd
Your crime now infidelity,
Had been the less, but since receiv'd
Damnation for Apostacy.
'Gainst God and King your lusts rebel,
Repent, and turn unto the cross,
That Paradise you seek is Hell,
Which found too soon, too late your loss.

A Description of the Ages of mans life, and their Inclinations and defects.

INfants desiring hurtful things
Have bodies innocent;
But 'tis their minde from whence it springs,
Makes ill their weak intent.
They should to virtue so be bred
In their most tender age,
They need not know if nature did,
Or precepts them ingage.
But let the rules of virtue be
Insinuated so,
'Thout trouble or severity,
To take delight to know:
What e're they follow taught with fear,
Their hate conceived then,
Will after, in their age appear,
And loath when they are men.
Allow them harmless wantonness,
And Learning so infuse;
Rather as change, then playing less
Or burden'd by their Muse.
Fear doth consume that moisture quite
Which nature does intend
To spread their limbs, and grow upright;
Which fayling, hasts their end.
Some natures soft moulded for love
And for humanity,
First apprehension doth moove
Of grief to make them cry.
Others though beaten, shed no teare;,
Of natures harsh, and fierce,
Th'out true affection, or just fears,
But stubborn and perverse.
Things of no judgment, little pain,
They suddenly take in
As language, easily they gain,
Oft keeping what they win.
Rewards of virtue next propose,
And praise of doing well,
The shame and infamy of those,
Where vice is known to dwell.
Not to fear virtue, as she were
To harsh to' be enjoy'd
Who tasts the sweetness shee doth bear,
Can never be ore-cloy'd.
Thus whilst untroubl'd, or allur'd
With vice of Flattery,
And from ambition secur'd:
To judge and know not why.
Still unexperienc'd by age,
Incapable of pleasure,
What friends do like, or do ingage:
by them take up their measure.
Soon as their minds have sence of praise,
then kindle their desire,
To affect honourable wayes,
By glory set on fire.
In exercise to labour more
Their equals to excel,
Then ever yet, they did before
To please by doing well.
A hott young man, with soul as high,
Youths freedom laid aside,
May well take up so moderately,
To sit by wisdomes side.
He who in youth begins to show
Mature and sober minde,
Will languish with a dulness so;
Not old, and yet declin'd.
But he, who 'mongst his great delights,
Loves one with eagerness,
And follows it with appetites,
Which death can but depress.
Declares he's able to maintain
Those studyes he affects,
With labour, industry and pain,
And virtue he effects.
No disposition but this,
Can truly finde the way
To glory here, or future bliss,
But he will go astray.
Now middle age, and distant so,
From giddiness of youth,
Not burthen of old age to know,
Should tell us all the truth.
But they great seekers are of wealth
And honour, cunning to
Dissembling friendships, and by stealth
Doe what they will not know.
Their passions they govern so
As if that they had none;
Then valiant, if ever too,
And then most truly shown.
That heat of courage moderate
But not extinguished
Which rashly carryes youth to fate
To number with the dead.
Fear the Companion of age
Disturbs the minds desires
And want of heat, doth much asswage,
What fortitude inspires.
Though otherwise it is a seat,
For wisdome to remain,
But then the mind doth want that heat,
Which courage should sustain.
Through many dangers of their own
And those of others seen;
Ruin'd, which they escap'd alone
They now would pass between.
'Tis mockery of all mankind
That age, to avarice
Should most of all, be then inclin'd
When death hath thrown the Dice.
And nature weak (to help her self)
Least able, then to strive
To hoord up treasures of pelf
To keep the dead alive.
This counsel, age may better take
That young men they excuse,
For errors all of us do make
But age the least should chuse.
Suffer their innocent delights
Hear them with gentleness.
And sometimes, though not in the right
accept with pleasingness.
In thine old age, if thou expect
Obsequiousness to thee,
'T approve thy words without neglect
Use this Equality.
And seeme at least, if not consent
To please them when you may,
In things which are indifferent
Then speake and they'l obey.
And suffer thee to tell thy tale
And storys of thy youth
Uninterrupted, though thou fayl
In telling of the truth.


To the Tune of, Since Fortune thou art so kind.
SInce Cupid thou art grown so kind
To give to me my choice of mind
Of Beautys store,
First I require, that she be
Both proud and coy to all but me,
I ask no more.
As wonton, jolly, blithe with me,
As amarous wives new married be,
And then a care,
To look and kiss, with so much art
As I may plainly taste her heart,
And that's my fare.
Let other Lovers all be pyn'd
First from her scorn, then their own mind.
Oh then I'm seated
In Lovers-heaven, where I am fixt
In single glory that's unmixt
When they'r defeated.
Where beauty's able to give laws
Thus to her self, thus to her cause,
I must imploy,
My self to obey her noble power
Every minute, every hour,
In this I joy.
Bus since thou art in sits of kindness
I prethe Child resign thy blindness,
And then I'm sure
Thou wilt not hit by chance but choice,
For which thou hast each Lovers voice,
And that's their cure.
But if thou wilt thy power imploy,
Thy cruel art, hearts to destroy,
For hearts are thine,
If she refuse mine, lay't not by her,
Sooner throw't into thy fire
For to calci [...]e,
The Phaenix from her cinders grows
And true love from loves ashes flows,
Oh how I burn;
So the condition of my fate
'Twixt life and death to circulate,
In Cupids Urne.
I'le have as many hearts for thee
As in those ashes grains youl see,
And then I'm sure
[Page 43] Ile have one heart to sacrifice,
To every look of her fair eyes,
And that's my cure.
These to my Mistress I present,
As this days tribute to her sent;
'Tis my desire:
To be her Martyr is my glory
And be written in loves story
Penn'd with fire.

A jealous Lady reproaching her Ser­vant that he courted new Faces, since her own, not the best, yet she was well proportion'd, thus answers.

WHither Art or natures grace
Does adorn my mistress face,
Burns nor quenches my desire,
They are those parts obscur'd from sight,
Limbs proportion'd for delight;
Blows my warmth into a fire:
If a face could please alone
One pictur'd, or would cut in stone.

From a Person in love with a young Lady who had marryed an old Man.

BRuno intreats Albana tell,
How Bruno she inclines to love,
Whose heart is proof against a spell,
Yet from her circle cannot move.
'Tis not I find the power of arts,
Not any charm can conquer me;
It must be sympathy in hearts,
Or if not so, what can it be?
Discords in Musick we do find
Such harmony, and air doth bring
Such charming sweetness to the mind,
As if the close were all one string.
Th' emitted Atomes through our eyes
Secret intelligence conveigs,
Into our hearts, which no disguise
Can hide from such elucent rayes.
Love much abused, where interest
Usurpes that name and proper right,
That's only due to such a breast
Which loves the person at first sight.
And that magnetique sympathy
Which doth incline our eys to gaze,
Is the souls choice and amity,
Loves circulation in a maze.
If any other hidden cause
Or more elate, pray let me know;
For if you take a time to pause,
You'l but invent to hide it so.
Truly confess and freely say,
It is the same what ere it be
Which makes you love and go that way,
You cannot choose but meet with me.
How well agreed, how understood
Our hearts to one another known,
The secret tye is in our blood,
The Seed is in our natures sown.
The works of nature hidden are
Which by effects we only know,
Then against nature we make warre
When we not imitate her so.
Let no delusive Fantosme then
Misleade us with fantastique fire,
Women were only made for men,
VVhich nature prompts us to desire.
Old Age's a moving monument,
Their marbles sweat but cold as Ice,
But quickning natures first intent
Gets monuments of greater price.
Nature with reason doth agree,
No incoherence can we find,
But that impell'd by sympathy,
By nature marryed, must be kind.
Hath nature yet by any law
Or rule, confin'd one creature yet;
Then surely nature to obey
Is only rational and fit.
Rebels to nature may create
New forms of government I know,
And turn a Kingdom to a state,
But my Albana does not so.
For she loves Monarchy as I,
And I love her, because she loves
Shee cannot live and bid me dye,
For doing what her self approves.

A Catch made before the KINGS coming to Worcester with the Scottish Army.

THe Round-heads drink a health
To their new Common-wealth,
And swear the Kings must be forgot;
But the pot shall be bang'd
When the Rogues are all hang'd
Here's a Health to the King and the Scot.
Come Skinker be nimble,
This quart's but a thimble,
Away with't, swell this of a gallon;
To our Masters brave Son
Who will fire the first gun
And boldly command us, fall on.
Each man upon his back,
Shall swallow his Sack,
This health will indure no shrinking;
The rest shall dance round,
Him that lyes on the ground
'Fore me, this is excellent drinking.
Faith Ladds let's uncase us,
Our raggs but disgrace us,
[Page 48] Some faggots, more, wine and a health
To him and all those
Who will fire their cloaths
As I would this new Common-wealth.


To the Tune of My Dear and only Love take heed.
TEach me Bellisa what to doe
I am Inviron'd round,
Grief bringing thoughts, oppress me so
They bend me to the ground;
Alass, thy Strephon doth implore
Thy help in time of need,
He beggs who never begg'd before,
Come save my life w'th speed.
Could I but hear thy sweetest voice,
Or bless miue eyes with thine,
My panting heart would so rejoyce
Souls so with bodies joyn
As frosts before the sun doth melt,
And rivers glide away
My griefs would pass by me unfelt
With thee if I might stay.
And I more faithful than the rest
Who for thy favour sue,
Should be imbosom'd in thy brest
The place to my love due;
Then happy Strephon joyful sing,
Hast hence away my sorrow;
I'd not change states with any King.
To be a King tomorrow.
A Shepherd true, a faithful friend,
I'le ever prove to thee;
The skies to earth, shall first descend,
E're thou complain of me:
Then lay aside thy withered fear,
And feed on hopes a while;
Fair weather after storms appear,
Love shall the time beguil.


CUpid is an idle toy,
Never was there such a boy;
If there were, let any show,
Or his quiver, or his bow,
Or the wound by him he got
By a broken arrow shot.
Money, Money, Money makes men bow;
That's the only Cupid now.
Whilst the world continu'd good,
And men lov'd for flesh and blood;
Men about them wore a dart
Which did win a womans heart;
And the women great and small,
With a certain thing they call
Kisse me, Kisse me, Kisse me, caught the men,
That was the only Cupid then.

A Song on a Scornful Mistriss.

DRowsie Lover rowse thy soul,
Quaffe Canary, and thoul't find
Spirits floating in the bowl,
Cures distempers of the mind:
Drinking makes thee sleep secure,
That alone is half a cure.
If Bellara be too cold,
And have chill'd thy loves desire,
Drink, 'tis warming, and be bold,
She hath no such active fire:
Each glass a fresh Mistress brings
Our Seraglio's great as Kings.
When thou art thus careless grown,
And thy ague fit remov'd,
Women will not loose their own;
Where they ever were belov'd.
[Page 51] Then if shee'l return to thee,
Nothing cures so well as she.

AN EPIGRAM On two at Enmity with one another.

DIego is speechless, cannot live,
How poor Reymundo then will grieve;
But how if Diego should recover,
Poor Reymund then will n'ere give over,
Neither without, nor with at ease
The Devill take him if he please.

To the same accusing him for Flattery.

HOw happy is that Government
Where Flattery meets punishment,
How fatal where it finds reward,
And treason to have Honours guard.
Leave off yee Flatterers for shame,
For honest duty fears no blame.


To the Tune of, Old Poets Hipocrene Admire.
COme Tom let's drink a rowsing glass,
Ud's niggs ne're stirre, is but an Asse,
Good drinking brings all things to pass:
Come Harry, George, and Jack take part,
And much good doe it each man's heart,
Who will not drink's not worth a fart.
Each man his glass and bottle by,
Tobacco, Pipe, Artillery,
A frolick, catch, and Drollery;
Wee'l have no tell-tale boyes to fill,
Under the Rose no man speaks ill,
But's safe as Thief is in a Mill.
I love the King and Royal blood,
Will fight their cause not understood,
And for their sakes would drink a flood;
Yet to their health's I not incline,
But here's to those who will drink wine,
Sack and a friend are both divine.
Faith one glass more, and then let's goe,
Health to the lass, who ne're said no,
Or if she did, would take it too;
[Page 53] Since only they do make us sport
In City, Country, Camp, and Court,
Let him be hang'd, who cares not for't.

Another to the same Tune.

Tis much
The Dutch
Dares drink or fight
Since they
Must say
To do us right
The English Drunkards have more might,
For when we fight or drink their Mumm,
So soundly we their jackets humm
You cannot wake them with a drumm.
We still
Cry fill
More Wine advance
Such men
Will conquer France,
And Tech dem de fin▪ running dance,
Leaving their grapes for us to squeeze,
Till they submit with Je-vou-prie's,
But let the Dons take snuch and sneeze.
'Tis late
We prate
And loose much time,
The Sun
Is run
Unto a Clime
Which dully drinks without a Rhyme;
Then foot to foot, let's drink at those
And Dutch-like drown those An-ti-toes,
Then call the Sunne to drink his dose.

Another to the same Tune.

FOr Wine
That's fine
We hither come,
Draw neat
No cheat
Nor poison'd stumme,
But Sack that speaks; when we are dumb;
No other noyse doe we desire,
But boy draw wine and make a fire,
A Catch is then, your only Quire.
Faith ladd
I'm gladd
To see thee here,
'Tis sack
We lack
Our wits to cheere;
[Page 55] Twill make us equal, with a Peer:
'Tis musick when the boy cryes score
And clinks the pots, when we call more,
As drunken Greeks did heretofore.
Come George
My gorge
Begins to warme,
This heat
'Twill do no harm;
Your Treason-Brewers, drink in barme,
Begin a health to our dear Miss,
And unto him, who she dares kiss,
For all the rest we care not this.
Now Tom
Is come
And he shall pledge,
This glass
Shall pass,
Now we are fledge,
Though drunk as beggars under hedge:
And he who will not sing and chat,
Cry tope, and throw aside his hat,
Not company is for a Cat.

To a fair great-bellyed Lady come to lye In in London.

SHe comes like full-ear'd harvest now,
Or fruit that loads the yielding bow,
Which the glad Husbandman invites
To taste, and labour new delights;
Just so (a ship with some rich trade)
Having a happy voyage made,
In some safe harbor she unloads,
Hir owners treasure, and her goods;
His friends rejoyce, he freed from fear,
Puts forth agen another year;
Now welcome Miss, you are imbay'd,
And must your Treasure here unlade;
A ship well fraught, a ground well sown,
No doubt will yield us still our own,
You shall be mann'd and victual'd too,
For a deal more y'have yet to do;
But when you have increas'd our store,
To travail then you shall no more,
But safely sit and see your wealth,
Though honest got, yet got by stealth.

To an absent Friend.

AS streams do circulating creep,
Through empty veins of th'immov'd earth,
Till to their Mother in the deep,
[Page 57] They pay the tribute of their birth:
So circularly we do move,
Impell'd by sympathy to meet,
Our hearts are centrical in Love,
At distance we incline and greet.
A Tyrant shackles may put on,
But cannot blind our inward light,
No Cave so much obscur'd from sun,
That on our souls can force a night.
Love is our light, give me a friend
Whose breast transparent is to me;
Eternal beings have no end,
My friendship would be that to thee.
What fortune 'tis keeps us asunder,
Is both my trouble and my wonder.

To friends in the Country, who kept Leut, dwel­ling neer a Forrest of the Kings.

To the Tune of, Chevy Chase.
YEe wights which on the Forrest fringe,
The Kings dear Deere disturb,
Find out a tree, I'l find you sprindge,
Which can wild horses curb:
Say farewel Oysters, and old Ling,
Pease-pottage, eke and gruel,
My self your Epitaphs will sing,
That trees should bear such fuel.

A Catch.

THe poor abused Bagg-piper,
Came home some two days after,
With a full intent, for to beget
On his Wife, a Son or a Daughter;
But she being acquainted before
With Souldiers and other Captains,
Got the running of the reins,
So he was well pay'd for his peins.

Pastoral Song complaining of falshood.

DA [...]on the Shepherd with the flock,
Of wanton Kidds safely browsing
Under the shelter of a Rock,
Where wone the herd to come A-bowsing
Unto a bibling stream that ran,
There Damon sat, and thus began,
Cruel, Cruel, inconstant woman,
False unto me, and true to no man.
When as another Swain you saw,
Yon liking lov'd, or loving fained,
Then 'gan from me your love withdraw,
Too soon alas he had obtained:
Then came a third your love to winn,
And we were out and he was in:
[Page 59] Farewel, Farewel, Inconstant woman,
False unto me, and true to no man.
To the Tune of, A Scotch Ditie
FArewel false fair one,
I can no more abide,
To live and love alone,
And still to be deny'd.
Since I now have found thy changing,
That thou lov'st to be belov'd,
Goe hence alone'a ranging,
From me that am immov'd.

Catches, To the Tune of A Boat, A Boat, Haste to the Ferry.

WHat Will, why Wait, come Tom, leave playing,
Our Turn-stileale brooks no delaying,
For James and Ben with Mum are staying.
A pox upon all dice and carding,
They will not leave a man a farthing,
Drinking is better much and [...]arding.
A health, a health, to our bright Dutchess,
I would I had her in my clutches,
A pox take him my fortune grutches.
More wine, more wine, come drawer fill,
Jack drink to me, and I to Will,
Drink fair, take care, you do not spill.
George, here's to Miss, with Hans-in-kelder,
And unto Tom who hath be-swell'd her,
Hans shall pledge too, when he grows elder.

A Song in Dialogue.

DEar I must doe.
Oh I dare not.
'Twill not hurt you.
(No) I care not.
Then I preethee sweet tell me the reason.
Will you marry?
Yes, to morrow.
Till then tarry.
I would borrow.
Fruit is best, when 'tis gather'd in season.

On a Lady standing on a River-bank, seeing her shadow in the water.

SAy fairest Nymph, what wouldst thou see,
Another world inrich'd by thee,
Is't not enough, the Gods have giv'n thee more
Of awful beauty, and of charming grace,
Then ere was yet in any Face;
But thou wilt set those Elements at odds,
First reconciled by the Gods.
The liquid Nymphs came gliding by
To wonder, and to deifie,
Raising their seidgy heads to gaze, did bow,
Since they had never seen amongst the train
Of Huntresses, the like again,
Then diving to their watry Caves below,
Ask'd of their gods, what they did know.
The angry Queen of love did weep,
To see her Coppy in the deep,
Mounting her Dove-drawn-chariot, hasts on high,
What Mortal, saith she, Father, hast thou made?
That Heaven and Earth doth thus invade.
Since all mankind about, where she doth dwell,
Adotes not us, but her poor Cell.
Then mildly Jove, do not despise
The likeness of thine own bright eyes,
Shee worships us and is thy subject sworn,
For though thy Son could never find a dart,
To wound her, 'tis a yielded heart;
And on that bank, she came to shed some tears
Of Love and kindness mixt with fears.

Subscription to a Letter in verse.

EVil to the Evil thinker,
And good wine to the fair drinker,
The merry witty, full of glee,
Are only company for me:
Where ere I find a narrow friend,
I leave him to his foolish end.

On a Scornful and Censorious Lady.

FIctitious beauties, who presume,
Mens words, which vented are as Rheume,
Are sires, and for your sakes consume,
Know 'tis self-love, which you deceives,
And the false Opticks true believes
Like Hocus-cheats, in their own sleeves.
When your mock-Majesties, we court,
As boys a ssault a paper fort,
[Page 63] 'Tis not for glory, but for sport;
So when we praise a colour'd face,
Such an uncomely▪ comely-grace,
'Tis not for quarry but for chace.
D'ye think that man, created Master,
Ought not to be his own Taster,
And call yee-comming, to come faster;
If Soveraign man his vassall pledge,
Commands to bed, to barn, or hedge,
Ye are the blocks, but he the wedge.
Then wretched women know your scorn
Is treason 'gainst your Lord first born,
Ye are but weeds that grow i'th corn;
And when together ye are bound,
No other seed from you is found,
But what we bring to our own ground.
The Papist cannot take one oath,
The Puritan will swallow both,
'Tis drawing of a hollow tooth:
Which no body can deny.
The Papists swears he serv'd the King,
The Puritan sayes the same thing,
Swears Capons better much then Ling:
Which no body can deny.
Some say the Papist had a Plot,
To burn the Thames; Why was it not:
It was discovered by a Scot:
Which no body can deny.

A Song set by Mr. Hill.

I Am no subject unto Fate,
That power assum'd I give to you,
Whither returning love or hate
Which falls in storms or gentle dew.
It is my will which chooseth you,
Though Tyrant, yet if ile obey,
Obedience is truly due,
To whom I give my self away.
I may be born under a throne
(A slave or Free) without my voice,
But loving as Religion,
Solely depends on my own choice:
The worlds dimensions are wide,
My mind not Heaven can conf [...]ne,
That outside worship is bely'd
Which inward bowes to other shrine.
Force may be called victory,
Yet only those are overcome,
Who yield unto an enemy
That is their certain fate and doom.
Thus fetter'd, I freely love,
My choice doth make the conquest thine,
And 'Twill thy power best improve
That to thy subject thou incline.
Who wisely rules, deserves command,
Keep then the loyal next thy heart;
Elective Monarchs cannot stand,
Nor love without an equal dart.


To the Tune of, New Oysters.
New Hangmen, new Hangmen, new Hangmen, new
Thrice: what Puritans come ashore,
Have you any Hemp at Court.

Upon Prince Rupert his intended voyage to Guiny.

GOds Sacrament he comes, no neer
Might Devil hawl this Cavalier,
[Page 66] Giv't here some Brande-wine, make hast,
Let's skinke apace, 'twill be our last,
These sober English shalums fight,
'Tis sport to them they take delight
To see a head shot off and rowl,
Just as it were to throw a bowl,
And when the Scuppers run with bloud,
They cry good cheer, for fish i'th floud.
Hark how the hound-foots shout and cry,
See their Red crosses topmast high;
And where that Devil Rupert stands,
Who those fierce English doggs command:
See mine Heers, Howard, Stanly, Jarmin,
All to-mall about him swarming.
Saint George for England, now they call,
H'as kill'd of us the Devil and all.
Now they steer close and show a side,
The gates of Hell are not so wide;
Then lustick mates, another dramm,
And let the Devil fire his Damme:
Our bellys full, although we sink,
We shall the less salt water drink:
Now they spit fire at th' Admiral,
They board and Ruyter he doth fall;
And Rupert back to back makes twins,
Ten thousand Devil, break his shins.
Though Monck did thump us to our shoars,
He sinks us all like Sonns of Whores:
These English Carls will sink our state,
To offer monys now too late.
[Page 67] Wee'l make the Prince Van Orange King,
Coning Van France will no such thing
Submit, unto our Coning Spain,
Coning Van England rules the main.
Then cut our banks and drown our land,
Such foes, such Fates, who can withstand?
For if great York comes out to sea,
Our skins and countrey he will flea.

To my Lord Bellasyse then in Tangier.

I Am not poor, though wanting still,
Our poverty is in our will:
The earth, which of it self brings forth
Is grateful though of little worth;
Nature in me declineth Art,
Shew me the means, Ile show my heart:

John Bellasyse Anagram. I Bless an Holy.

I Bless an Holy, ever bless
The Holy sheapherd we confess,
The trine of God in Unity
One only Holy Deity,
The Lord my Lord who rais'd your Fame,
Conserves his worship in your name,
[Page 68] To whom so much already's given,
The next reserve, I hope is Heaven.
The cross-way is the neerest hence,
To your Eternal Residence.

John Bellasyse Anagram. His Noble Sayle.

TRue Anagram, His Noble Sayle
Fill'd with the blasts of worthy Fame,
Ore Fortunes worst doth now prevail,
And swells it to a noble name.
Through seas of bloud, in civill warrs
When the ship-Soveraign was lost,
This noble Sayle with honour'd scarrs,
Bore up through all, though soundly tost.
In all the storm, and darkest night
Which sew out-liv'd, who did not yield,
This noble sail appear'd in sight,
As if it self would keep the field.
Till the young Admiral was sound,
With whom the noble sayl did close
To repossess, and keep that ground,
Which the Ship-Soveraign did loose.
Now Europe cannot fill this sayle,
Those Rebel-winds are weaker-grown,
In Africa it finds a gale
To move against Rebellion.
This noble sayl, let honour steere
Till crown'd with victories,
From hence translated to a sphere
Where Honour and reward ne're dies.

John Bellasyse Anagram. Bees is all Hony.

BEES is all honey; Anagram
Affirms it is your Lordships name;
And I beleiv't, for Bellasyse
By it, is only named twice;
Rather explain'd, like mysteries,
Where such signification lyes:
Such sweetness in the name and sense,
That speaking it is eloquence,
Bees (as your Lordship) have a King
And each (in their defence) a sting,
Industrious both, hating the Drone
Helpful to all, unhurt, hurts none,
The private and the common good
Is both your own and others food.
Alike it is to gather money,
For you my Lord, as Bees do hony.

On Sir Henry Bellasyse Sonne to my Lord John Bellasyse Anagram.
By her Seen Sally.

TO Sally is a Souldiers act,
To Conquer is to crown the fact;
And by a Mistress to be seen,
Might make a conquest on a Queen:
Who loves sure would be lov'd agen,
He never fails who conquers men.
Great Alexander might at home
(Perhaps) some silly mayd o'recome,
But when he sally'd forth in arms,
The world was taken by those Charms;
Riches and Honour, beauty, fame,
Are Captives to an honour'd name.
Let Henry Sally after John,
Then like the Father conquer Son.
To the Tune of Phillis though thy powerful Charms.
THy walls, O Tangier, soot and horse,
Thy sorts and line have little force,
'Tis Bellasyse who thee defends,
Commuting all thy foes to friends,
[Page 71] His easie rule, and prudent care,
Shows peace much greater than the warr,
Yet when he leads his men to fight,
His conduct's safe, as Eagles slight.
No more Alarums murmur now,
No man who weares a surrow'd brow,
Were it not order for to keep,
Wee'd ope the gates and fall to sleep;
For Gayland knows his watch and word,
Secures this place more than the Sword;
And now with's Army does intend,
To show's he is a powerful friend.
Now happy Tangier is thy Fate
That Bellasyse is come, though late,
Thy worthies now in honours-bed,
Had not been numbred with the dead;
But 'twas not fit so great a prize
Tangier injoy'd and no man dyes:
Some Roman Souls had here their grave,
Then why should we less hononr have.
But now the Lawrel crowns his head,
Who solemnizes the brave dead,
And those remaining worthy men
Are subjects of his tongue and pen;
That our great Charls may know their worth,
And offer them he would set forth,
[Page 72] He certain is of a fair Fame,
Whom Bellasyse but once doth name.
To the Tune of How happy and free is the Plunder.
YEe happy and free men of Tangier,
Who sear neither Moore, Dutch, nor danger,
Now our General's come,
Whose Trumpet and Drum
Makes Gayland appear like a stranger.
Then plow, sow and reap, make hay and drink wine,
The curtains are drawn, goe to sleep in your line.
One Sentinel Africa saces,
Our stocks, and our heards abroad grazes,
The Dons bring us Sallads
To relish our pallats,
Which all but the fool much amaze [...].
Then plow—
New works, and old walls are new mended,
The Souldier and sick are befriended,
The golden-age laws
Not insnar'd by a clause,
With justice and honour defended,
Then plow
Who doth not confess, we inherit
More then this from our Generals merit,
VVill never be at ease,
Nor an Angel can please,
Let him hang with his own private spirit.
Then plow, sow and reap, make hay and drink wine,
The curtains are drawn, goe to sleep in your line.

On two jealous Lovers.

STand, who comes there, 'tis I she said,
Of no man yet was e're afraid.
Then call your Corporal to me,
I have no more to speak to thee;
Corporal bring me to the place,
VVhere I your Collonel may face,
I have affairs of much import,
To none but him I will report.
Sir there's a woman waits at door,
Earnest to speak with you; No more,
Let her come in; your Servant Sir,
Madam what business makes you stirr
So late abroad; The love of you
Since I have heard you are not true,
And my passion brings me here
That you my doubts and fears may cleere.
I know not Madam what to say,
Nor who it is doth me betray.
[Page 74] I wear your favours next my heart,
Nothing but death can make them part;
Then pray resolve me quickly, who
Hath made this breach betwixt us too;
VVere I as easie to believe,
I should have greatest cause to grieve:
You have of late declar'd I know,
In favour of a Rival foe;
Then I assirm'd under my hand,
O're me you never should command;
And yet I thought it was a blind,
And still to me were truly kind.
'Tis true I am; yet have been told
You boast my savours and grow cold,
And other beautys-aid implore,
Forsaking mine to whom you swore:
If this be true, you cannot blame
Though I appear'd to do the same;
But if that you put on this mask
To blind the world, I pardon ask,
I have done so, and would do still,
But cannot do't, without your will:
How quickly then are we agreed,
The wounds are heal'd but now did bleeds
No more false worships shall deceive
But one another wee'l believe.

On a censorious barren Lady to a Friend.

SOme there are George, who cluck and sit,
Not on their own, but others wit;
They spoyl the good, the bad make worse;
And kill the child which they should nurse:
A windy egge, or one that's addle
Is good enough for fiddle faddle,
They may sit on, and keep a pother,
But never hatch to be a Mother.

On Mother Cony the Bawd.

WHen Mawd the Empress traivail'd France,
This Mother Cony learnt to dance,
She sooted it so finely then,
So loving was, so lov'd by men,
That falling backward by mishap,
A spruce young man fell in her lap;
So pleasing to her was this fall,
That dance she called Up-tails all;
And did this Jigg so oft repeat,
It brought her to a mighty heat;
She was with sweats so gently cur'd,
That oft the same she hath indur'd;
With ease and oysters, now is grown,
Harder to be, then not be known;
A full days journy now about
Let him go see who makes the doubt.

To a Friend upon some Ladies who were curious to see the Authors Letters into the Country, to con­demn them.

I Am not sick, and yet take physick
Yet have no clappe, a cold, or ptysick,
That little which I have to spend's
For meat at home, as for the friends;
I have in town they are so few,
I stay at home to write to you,
And something more, though lesser reason
I balladize 'gainst womens treason;
For if I suffer undermining,
The Counter is defence, and lining,
They shall not come with their approaches,
And make a breach, to let in Coaches,
I'le sally forth and fire their trenches,
And drive them under Cabbin benches,
Till they have lest their siege and quarrels
I'le make them creep into old barrels;
And then so roughly I will rowl them,
Till they cry quarter and befowl them;
A Tyrant I, when once provok'd,
Finding Devils Angel-cloak'd;
Amongst those black-birds now I leave them,
They deceive fools, feinds deceive them:
A friend, good wine, a little spending,
A pretty w [...]nch who needs no tending.
would have those who e're looks further,
On his own pleasures commits mu [...]ther,
And for one face, that's patcht and painted
Thousands are damn'd, for one that's sainted.
If Ale such Poetry affords,
What shall we do when drunk like Lords.

To a Spanish Lady in S. Lugar.

REymund thou hast surviv'd a warre
Where thousands perish'd in thy sight,
And thou hast travail'd now so farre
To yield thy self without a sight.
No more thy warfare ever boast,
Nor name thy self a Souldier now,
Since in that very port th' art lost.
Where thou thy courage shouldst a vow:
Thou knowst how ambushes are laid
How to avoid an Enemy,
The Ambush of a Spanish maid,
Hath forc'd from thee thy liberty.
But Reymund with safe conduct came
And cannot be a prisoner,
'Tis great Injustice, as great blame,
To circumvent a Travailer.
And yet alass I must confess
That I have broke your Countrys law,
And by a Clandestine address,
Would carry hence▪ that mayd away.
[Page 78] My Dear Lusya, 'tis a truth
Your Country hath of Saints such store,
That I would glory in thy youth,
And in my Country thee adore;
But if Saint Lugar be the shrine
Where my devotion I must pay,
But promise me you will be mine
I'le make another Holy-day.

Upon the King and our Naval Enemies.

ARithmetick misplac'd since Charls the se­cond
In place before the fifth, should first be reckon'd:
Old dotard time, and giddier-headed fame
Forgot the figure, yet memoriz'd the name,
What if the Danish, Swedish, Belgick coasters,
German, French, Spanish are pretending boasters,
Down with your top-sails, Charls his soveraignty
Commands where Neptune hath his Vice-gerency
Gyant-like Dutch, of a rebellious stock,
Forsaking your Protector split on a Rock:
Leave of ye daring Hogons, your pretending
Ye cannot fight; your boats and nets want mending.
[Page 79] T' your fishing trade agen, and we your masters,
Will feed ye well, but still we must be tasters,
In this obedience to our Monarchy,
Eat Herrings, swallow your butter quietly.
Ten hundred thousand Sacraments can't save ye,
Nor all those Tuns of Devils, ye would have, ye;
The crosier'd bloudy flagge when we advance,
To them, and all the world, we give desiance:
For all who think by war our peace to trouble,
Shall find by warrs abroad our peace redouble.

A Rhetorical speech of one Jobber an Atterneys Clerk of Davids-Inn, to his Brother Squibbe fellow Clerk.

BRother Squibbe, be it known to all men by these presents, that I doe utterly quite, claim and demand, yielding and paying unto me the summe of nine pence half-penny, of lawful money of England, which I disbursed at sundry times upon the purchase of several Mannours of Ginger-bread, what ever parcel or parcels, I did occupy and injoy, I take as quit Rents due up­on the loan of my Mony: These are therefore to certifie all whom it may concern, that I do lawfully demand, my principal debt, for if I should run you through, and you should dye wil­fully in your own defence, it is but se defendo by the Law, for my mony's as due to me, as your [Page 80] life is to you, besides you; ought not by the law to provoke a man to his own destruction: yet out of my obligations to Law, in respect of my present occasions, if you can procure me the just summe of three pence half penny, and give me Bond for the rest, or procure Joan our kind Laun­dress to pass her word, out of the singular good will and affection I have thereunto, I will ac­quiese untill the Terme of Hillary.

Upon the Dutch Mutton-Mongers on the Coast of Suffolk, and other parts pilfering of Turnips.

IS Meat so scarce amongst the Boors,
They set our sleets, and boats with oars,
To pilfer Mutton from our Coast,
And that the Victory they boast,
But sure they stayed too long to drink,
Which made so many of them sink,
We sent them Cooks to roast their meat,
And fyring too, fall to and eat;
We entertain such strangers so
Knowing how farr they had to goe,
And having had so warme a meal
They had no stomack, (more) to steal,
Unless to bed with all sayls made,
Whom we so civilly conveigh'd,
And yet they are not well content
But say 'twas too much complement,
[Page 71] Had Beaufort had but such atreat
He would have danc'd into a sweat,
And swore that English are the best
At entertaining forreign guest.
D [...]ll Dutch for shame, no more complain
For they will laugh at you in Spain,
Since here such welcome they have had
That still they think the English madd,
Would ye have yet a second course,
In troth I fear you'l like it worse,
Unless our powder'd dumplings please,
They'l fill your stomacks and give ease:
I know your drink is Brande-wine
But yee have worms and must drink brine,
Most of your stomacks are grown sick
And powder'd meats are gross and thick.
Wee'l waft you back to English ground
And make your fulsome bodies sound,
For ye can never be at ease
Untill ye▪ quite forsake the seas,
Pure air, spring-water and brown-bread
Cures the distempers of your head;
At Chelsey Colledge ye shall find
Physick as well to cure your mind,
State-surfers now are grown so strong
Ye must let bloud under the Tongue;
Ye talk too much, and in those fits
Discover plots of your De-Witts,
[Page 72] But when ye are in perfect health,
Wee'l have a care too of your wealth;
Then back agen, and tell your Mates:
What we have done to mend your states:
The Sea-toyl'd trade, and worlds affairs,
Leave it to us your lawful Heirs,
Then you good Fisher-men may prove
In much obedience and love:
But if ye should relapse agen
Ye cannot scape 'bove one in ten,
And the Grand Signior of France
About your Calenture will dance,
And in the height of your disease
Protect your Land, as we your Seas.

To Lottery of Love; To an old devout Tune.

WHo draws most blanks the most gets in,
Who ever looseth most doth win,
Who gets the most the most doth loose,
Who least away a saver goes.
O love whose twisted Rope
No man could ere untie,
It makes us all to groape
Till we with groaping dye.
O love which makes a beast
Of Man that's highly born,
[Page 73] And then giv'st him a Crest
Much like a Bakers horn.
O Love whose Monkie-sport
Makes tumblers of us all,
Then giv'st us a Report
For chief of Fumblers-Hall.
At first we ride so fast,
VVe straight fall to a Trot,
Our bones so soar at last,
Can never be forgot.
O love whose mighty force
All creatnres doth command,
For neither man nor horse
Could ever it with-stand.
It makes the Courtier frisks
To powder, cringe, and bow,
VVith Oleos and bisk
He treats the Lord knows how.
Although his body's weak
The power of love makes strong,
And when that he doth speak
Eringo's on his Tongue.
The waiting-maid he courts
And into her doth crawle,
[Page 74] That by those kind resorts,
He may her Lady mawl.
But Marchpane will not last
It melts so soon away,
And they behind are cast,
Like cheese-curds from the whay.
The Souldier in the field,
Who doth the longest stand,
This love doth make him yield,
His Pike falls out of's hand.
Yet when white Colours flie,
He doth agen advance,
And makes his foes to lie,
As they were in a trance.
Yet he is beaten so
He cannot keep his ground,
But sneakingly doth goe
To cure a pocky wound.
The Scholler doth indite
Strong lines in verse or prose,
Till he doth under-write
The Poet wants a Nose.
At first he slies so high,
At last doth fall so low,
[Page 75] Such weakness from the thigh
Can neither stand nor goe.
The merchant and the clown
Have all no better luck,
For they are up and down,
As Drakes are with a Duck.
With trading they doe break,
With labour weakned, old,
Their ships doe spring a leak
And then their tails are cold.
Fanatique Loves desire
That burns with sister zeal,
First London set on fire,
To make a Common-weal.
A pox on Venus whore,
And Cupid too, her sonne,
With all her daughters more
And so my Song is done.

Englands rejoycing for Londons Re-building.

To the Tune of Faire fall the Muses who in well tun'd verse, or a joyful sight to see.
LEt none pass by, who come this way,
Till they have heard me sing and say,
Who loves the King and Common good
Here's cheerful news to warm his blood:
When London is re built agen,
Then welcome all, both maids and men.
Come all good Citizens, rejoyce with me,
For care recals no things are past,
A Phaenix from her ashes you shall see,
Of greater splendour, then the last.
Both rich and poor,
Will prosper more,
In one year than they did in three,
And all your trade,
So much decay'd,
Shall flourish in a happy peace,
When all your jealousies shall cease,
A joyful sight to see.
Our Ancestors nere thought of such a Town
That all the world should it admire,
[Page 77] But low-built on the river-bank sat down,
In Hovels fit for nought but fire:
But our new Troy,
With fires of joy,
The fairest of the world shall be,
And all mankind,
Who are not blind,
Shall say that London is the Town
Of all the world, should wear the Crown,
A joyful sight to see.
No more by ally-smels, like midnight carts,
No holes where day-light ne'r appears,
But order'd all in well proportion' dparts,
No place for jealousies and fears.
Nor forreign Clown,
Who comes to town,
Shall swear by all his ancestry,
That all that day,
He lost his way,
And yet Pauls-steeple could not find,
Mislead by turnings, like the blind;
A Joyful sight to see.
No more shop-lights built for necessity
Shall cause the Buyer to supect,
Good-fellows late may reel home quietly,
Without a trap-door to detect,
And not a bench,
For any wench,
[Page 78] To lay a child or gett a Fee,
Nor Maids above,
With prentice love,
Ore tops of houses meet and kiss,
And spend the cash you doe not miss,
A joyful sight to see.
Those Padders whom that City forrest hid
And Plotters there their shelter found,
Your wise designed building does forbid,
No back-streets nor ways under ground,
But like good men
With heart and pen,
To publick interest agree;
with arts and trade,
Ye all are made,
Then cheerfully to work amain,
'Tis Englaads joy and all your gain,
A joyful sight to see.
New Churches with new bels, new tunes shall ring
The old are out of fashion now,
The Corporations in procession sing
Fanatiques too, the Lord knows how,
But one and all
Both great and small,
Come heartily and sing with me,
The King God bless,
The Queen no less,
Send them an Heir and happy Raign,
[Page 79] Our trade and liberties to maintain,
A joyful sight to see.

The Forrest Lovers.

FAir maids who are so coy
In these Examples find,
All creatures will injoy,
To one another kind.
Turn to your Lovers time will flye,
None love the old untill they die.
Surely the Gods did preordaine
That we should meet this instant,
Heres none but thou and I alone
VVithin this grove so pleasant;
Then sit thee down upon the grass
And Ile sit me down by thee,
There's nothing here
Thou needst to fear,
Dearest doe not deny me.
See how the strong and warlike Horse
The ground doth beat so proudly,
And neighing to his Female love
The woods resounding loudly:
See how the wanton Kidd doth frisk
Before her bearded Lover,
[Page 80] As she would say,
This time of day,
Invites to come and cover.
The lowing Kine, the lusty Bull
Calls over hedge and ditches,
Nature and reason doth incline
Till age that doth betwitch us:
A pair of years in love with thee,
All other loves refusing;
Then doe not cry,
Nay pish nay fie,
For Love deferr'ds abusing.
The Turtle-Doves who areso chast
See how they sit a billing,
See how the Ewe turns to the Ramm
VVhich shows all flesh is willing:
See how the Ivy clips the Elme,
And doth with sloath upbraid us;
Then let us kiss,
'Tis not amiss,
The trees on purpose shade us.
See how the pleasant Spring invites
Us to imbrace each other,
See how the pretty birds delights
To chirpe at one another:
Then be not coy let's get a boy
And dearest deser't no longer,
[Page 81] And strive not now.
Unless that thou,
Dost think to prove the stronger.
Who loves will not by force constrain
But gently winne my favour,
So Satyrs doe their lusts obtain
And care not then who have her,
But if I give my self to thee
And thou change for another;
Then not a Maid
I am afraid,
That I may prove a Mother.
Fear not thou dearest of my life,
My heart is thine for ever,
Before the Gods thou art my Wife
Now show thy love or never;
Delaies are dangerous to love,
And age w [...]ll quickly seize us,
Lets now imbrace
In this sweet place,
The birds will sing to please us.
I love too much she said, yet fear
But love is so much stronger,
Thou maist do what thou wilt my Dear
I can hold out no longer:
But when thou hast overcome my heart,
Dear leave me not to sorrow,
[Page 82] But tell me where
And truly swear,
To meet agen to morrow.

The description of a rare beauty of a Lovers Fancy.

To an old Tune.
If any man doe want a Wife,
And would secure her Honesty,
Take this, and then i'le pawn my life
He shall be free from jealousie.
COme neer my lusty Lovers,
Give ear unto my ditty,
A pleasant song
Is never long,
Supposing it be witty.
And list my noble Lasses,
My Song is of a creature,
Though not so fair
As others are,
Yet wonderful in feature.
Her short black frizled hair,
With Nitts for pearl adorned,
Two else-locks short
And some report,
Besides that she is horned.
Hir pious ears down lossing
Doe shade her mines of Amber,
Whence treacle drops
As fast as hopps,
Fall down to dress her Chamber.
A frozen dish-clout fore-head
Which reacheth to her Crown-a,
But if you'l spie,
Her hole-bred eye
Then come a great way down-a.
That eye, so amorously
Doth blink upon her lover,
Just like a sow,
Whose hayry brow,
Such sweet looks doth discover.
Her nose much like a Parrets,
Or Romes greatest Commanders,
But such a smell
No tongue can tell,
If you come neer her glanders.
Her cheeks are pleasant valleys
Which meet within her mouth-so
That you would think
'Twould stop the stink,
And turne't to her profecto.
Her bearded thin-lips powting,
As Fame her trumpet blows,
And her catarrhe
Proclaims a warre,
Against her glaunders nose.
Her mouths a buttery hatch
Her swallow is so profound,
That you would think
When she doth drink,
You were in the Danish sound,
Her tongue like spotted Ermins
And on each side a Canker,
Where such a breath
Is sudden death,
But come not neer and think her.
Her teeth a Tinker hammer'd,
Out of a brewing kettle;
Her gumms as red
As our brown bread,
Or as the man of mettle.
Her chinn so complemental
Turns up to catch her drivel,
Who would not lye
In a Pigsty,
With such a Female Devil.
Shee's neck'd much like a gander
Sweet voic'd as any bittern,
She sings in prose,
Like any rose,
Unto a barbers Cittern.
Her duggs like dry'd cows udder,
Her teats hang to her belly,
And all her milk
'As soft as silk,
But like Toad-tadder gelly.
Stand farther of I pray you,
Now I have spy'd Avernus,
Which wee'l pass by
Behind doth lye,
A place will more concern us.
I cannot choose but tell you
A truth and 'tis a wonder,
Her cow'd-bon'd bumme
Sounds like a drumm,
And can as lowdly thunder.
Her thighs so much salt-water
Doth every day soak in,
Shee's Fish below,
Down to her toe,
And looks like Haberdine.
If any lusty lover can
But like my Mistress favour,
Or Friend of mine,
I will resign,
And promise he shall have her.
Her parts so farre exceeding
All other English beauties,
In writing this,
I have I wiss,
Perform'd a lovers duty.

The new mode of Love.

The whining lover seldome gets a prize
The bold and careless make the conquest sure,
When you come to look babies in their eies,
They whistle you like Hawks unto a lure.

To an old Tune.

OF LOve whose power and might
None ever yet withstood,
Thou forcest me to write
Come turn about Robbin Hood.
Sole mistress of my rest
Let me thus farr presume,
To make this bold request,
A black-patch for the Rheume.
Your tresses finely wrought
Much like a golden snare,
My silly heart hath caught,
As Moss did catch his Mare.
Your eyes like stars divine
Makes me renew this arrant,
In simple speeches mine
A buttock for a warrant.
Oh women will you never,
But think that I do flatter,
I vow I lov'd her ever,
And fain I would be at her.
What i'st I would not doe
To purchase one good smile,
Bid me to China goe
And i'le sit still the while.
I think that I shall die
Love so my heart bewitches,
It makes me howl and cry,
Oh! how my elbow itches.
Te [...] overflow my sight
With waves of daily weeping,
That in the careful night
I take no rest for sleepi [...]g.
Cupid is blind men say,
But yet me thinks he seeth,
He hit me 'o-ther day
A T—in Cupids teeth.
My Mistress is so fair,
But oh! her late disgraces,
Hath made me to despair,
A pox take all such faces.
But since my simple merits
Her loving looks must lack,
Come stoppe my vital spirits,
With claret wine and sack.
Regard my great mishaps,
Oh Jove thou God of wonder,
Send down thy thunder-claps
Aud rend her smock a sunder.
But if that all relief,
And comforts doth forsake me,
I'le hang my self for grief,
Nay then the Devil take me.

Her Ingenious her Answer so modestly delivered.

YOur verses I receiv'd,
Like one of Cupids Martyrs,
Because you are so griev'd
Goe hang in your own garters.
I cannot choose but pitty
Your lubbers mourning tears,
Because your plaints are witty,
You may goe shake your ears.
To purchase your delight
No labour I will leese,
Your pains I will require
With a nogge of bread and cheese.
'Tis you I fain would see,
'Tis thee I only think on,
My looks as kind shall be
As the Devils over Lincoln.
I long to see thee here
I must injoy thee one day,
Mean time come kiss me there
Where I did sit on Sunday.

Doctor Donnes Couplet.

HE that hath business and makes love
Doth doe,
Such wrong as when a married man
Doth woe.

The Version.

HE that makes love his business:
Then doth doe
No wrong at all, and married men
May woe.


To the Tune of, New Oysters.
NEw Roysters, new Roysters, new Roy­sters new,
What tame Knights have you to dress,
Have you any Maids with child.

The wise contented Cuckold,

To an old Tune.
Who ere would lead a happy life,
All jealousy eschew
With no strict hand nor foolish strife,
Still let her have her due.
I Am a contented man,
And I have a dainty wife,
Who labours as much as she can,
To make me a happy life.
I've neither money nor lands,
Nor trade to get me some bread,
Nor can I work with my hands,
And yet I am bravely fedde.
I have cloaths and money to spend,
I goe and come when I will,
I drink a quart with a Friend,
Such Toll I get by my Mill.
I have good pewter and brass,
Two chambers furnished well,
I should be counted an ass,
How I got them, for to tell.
Brave Gallants come to my door,
And aske m [...] for Madam Brown,
But your ill-bred Country-boor
Would Gammer-her like a Clown.
She winks, and I step aside,
Then intreats him to draw nigh;
And looks as sweet as a Bride,
As coy and as cunningly.
Up stairs she so nimbly goes,
You can hardly hear her tread,
She knows her friends from her foes,
'Tis a pretty Rogue in a bed.
When the fool is sneaking gone,
She sits her down on my knee,
And cries my Dear Chuk, my John,
I'm fain to do this for thee.
'Tis a plagny witty wench,
Steals mony into my pocket,
And Tickles me like a Tench,
And for all gramercy blockhead.
All night sometimes she is out
At some great bodies labour,
She nimble whisks about,
As 'twere at a Pipe and a Tabor.
But when she comes home agen,
She stroaks my forehead and face,
And ever I cry Amen,
Where ever my wife sayes grace.
The Merchant sends in good wine,
Fat Gammons and Botargo,
We altogether doe dine,
But Betty unlades his Cargo.
My Draper sends in fine cloath,
Her Mercer the richest silk,
The little Rogue gives them broath
But robs the Calves of their milk.
Fine linnen, and silk stockings,
And sweet perfumed gloves,
She gets by Nurse-like Rockings,
Let others get by their Loves.
What fools will goe bare and poor,
And starve for want of good meat,
And swear that his wife's a whore
When she goes forth to repeat.
If twenty light their candle
At mine, what is it the worse?
All things were made to handle,
All sorts of coin in a purse.
A wife that's a wag-tail born,
If curb'd will spend thy estate;
'Tis better to have my horn
Of plenty, let other men prate.
If all men be not like me,
They are more troubled than I,
I know the worst I can be,
It is but the chance of a dye.

A Ballad to some Friends in the Country.

IN place where claps are called Geese,
And farting is Icleped sneese,
So Marmalade is roasted Cheese;
Which no body can deny.
Where (men) women doe make Cuckold
Holding land in Tenure Buck-hold,
Neer the mannour called Muck-hold (alias)
Which no body can deny.
Where Goats are by Hogs-Norton kept,
Where bad is good, and Boar-hunt left,
Where thou and I have often slept.
Where A-mare-Ill-is and her Cully,
Doe parsonate or wench or Bully,
'Thout help of Ovid or of Tully.
Where men from tops of Towers do fly,
And yet no more then birds do die,
Such power's in sack-divinity.
Where Pidgeons more then people prays,
For they at Church are still six daies,
Their Croo is their expressive laies.
And on the seventh till bell doth ring,
Where Hopkins rimes the people sing,
With a Hey derry down high ding.
But then the Homily being done,
The Lord invites the Vicar home,
Mistake not 'tis not he of Rome.
VVhere he the meat prays for, and drink,
VVith eys of Faith, for he doth wink,
The Cats eies out just so do pink.
But in this place I have been told,
If on report I may be bold,
The folks are neither hot nor cold.
Two Vicars claim unto the Church,
And both alike the Parish lurch,
Yet lowly doe the poor souls curch.
The one is house prayes for the people,
VVhose turrets doe exceed the steeple,
The Del'e a one, who cares a peeble.
The other sayes that he doth pray,
'Tis for himself the people say,
And for his daughter by my fay.
I'm sure the folks are yet no better,
Then those who never read a letter,
Non legit finds the law a Debtor.
In such a place where corn doth grow,
Where none doe reap, nor none doe sow,
And such a place as none does know.
'Tis Paradise a man would think
But for the Rivers there of drink,
Where he that swims is sure to sink.
If these strange things be but as true
I'le come and see, till then adieu,
So here's a health to all the Crew,
Which no body dare deny.

The Da [...]byshire Maid.

A Iolly black Lass came up to the Town
And wander'd about, till she came to Whitehall,
But when she had seen both Courtier and Clown
She lik'd the Life-guard men better then all.
There was a Maid of Darby-shire,
Would needs come to the City
To see those sights which she had heard,
For she was wondrous witty.
She was so stout,
She look'd about,
The doors and the shops were all open,
But then she said,
I am afraid
That they are lately broken.
She heard a Tinkers kettle ring,
Quoth she, here's bees a swarming,
And saw the folks go in and out
With such a noyse and charming.
Yet was so stout,
She lookt about
To see when the people would settle.
Or else that they
Would fly away,
Hearing no more the kettle.
But now she spy'd a Goldsmiths stall,
Where Gold was laid a sunning,
These Citizens are Fools she cry'd
Who have so little cunning,
We make a show
Of what we owe,
But no body knows our riches,
If this they give
They cannot live,
But begg for bread and breeches,
A little farther passing on,
She wonder'd at their breeding,
They cry'd fair Maid, what doe you lack,
Here's choice, take for your needing,
She thank'd them all,
Both great and small,
Although she were but a stranger,
Yet she had friends,
Would make amends,
Of which there was no danger.
She bid good-deine, and then she heard,
A wench was crying marches,
Bellows to mend and kitchin-stuff,
She thought them singing catches;
By the mass quoth she
Those Ballads we,
Have from North [...]mpton Poet,
Nor Smithfield wares
With brains and stairs,
Are half so good I know it.
A guilt-coach with glass windows too't,
Just then was passing by her,
If all our houses were so built
Quoth she, wee'd fear no fire;
The footmen too,
Made such a show,
[Page 99] For Lords, she them saluted,
And duckt so low
That in one throw,
Her coats were all polluted.
To Covent Garden then she came,
With love so strong perfumed,
Seeing the Life-guard there on horse,
She then was quite consumed.
Good Lord quoth she
These Princes be,
VVith Red-coats, and with Feathers,
The sword and belt,
My heart hath felt,
No horse can break such Tethers.
I love not one alone, but all,
Five hundred horse and more-a,
And yet me thinks one Irish-man
I still preferre before-a:
Oh happy sight
I take delight,
To see and smell their horses,
And for their good
VVill keep my blood,
And kiss their very arses.

To my Lord Bellasyse in Tangier, upon a New­years day.

COuld I as well (as wish) present,
It should not be a Complement;
But since the most that I possess,
Is from your Lordship, I confess,
Unless you'l call this fruit mine own,
The seed was by your Lordship sown:
A soyl (though rich) sometimes brings forth
But little grain, and little worth,
Being oversown with too much seed,
Shows it is fertil, though in weed;
And I, so much obleig'd, may say
Ingratitude's no sin this way:
But now I pray a happy year
I mean at Worlaby, not here,
Leaving the Rains in Affrica,
Which throws down houses e'ry day,
Washing the cement of our walls,
And one another by their falls
Beats down, seeming as they would say,
Wee'l make the mole, or choak the hay;
Those dear-bought cork-woods, fruits and flowers
The costly forts, and rotten towres,
Those fruits upon your Lordships wall
At Worlaby your own may call,
Ther's no Levant, to blast your trees,
Nor house invaded by the seas,
[Page 101] The grass which grows before your doors,
Doth hide no ambush of the Moors,
No Jacals to devour your sheep,
Nor publick cares to break your sleep,
On Lincoln Heath, runne for a cup,
Fill't with sound wine, and drink it up,
Her's Malaga, mixt wine and stumme
Which kills outright or makes men dumb,
Leave meat unfound, and spanish fruits,
And nothing good but our old suits
To keep us warm, and from the sun,
And so my Creed of Tangiers done.
Nothing I know is wanting there,
And nothing else I know is here,
Then welcome to your Ithaca,
And happy be I ever pray,
In family, in friends, and fame,
In honour, fortune and good name;
In all things what you wish to be,
And one thing more I wish to see.

A Ballad,

To the Tune of the Song in the play of Bartholomew Fair. Youth, Youth, thou hadst better been starv'd at thy Nurse.
YE wicked Fishmongers, and Butchers repent
And all ye Coal-sellers, as wicked or worse,
[Page 102] Who make the poor people keep all the year lent
Though you get their mony, yet you have their curse,
Ye oft have, been told,
Both young yea and old,
That wolves will devour our sheep in the fold.
What Cannibals are ye to eat one another,
And worser then wolves to sister and brother,
'Twere better by much ye ne're had been born,
Then men should be like to beasts that wear horns.
Ye Brewers and Bakers, who cosen the poor,
With weights and with measures, 'tis shame for to tell,
And make them to run so fast on the score,
For which ye run faster (God bless us) to Hell,
Ye oft have been taught,
Good comes not of naught,
And gold is not good, if too dearly be bought.
Then pray be contented with moderate gains,
Amend your bad lives, and wash out your slains,
Least that if a Famine should come, I tell true,
Instead of good meat, the poor would eat you.
Ye Ladies and Gallants who slaunt it so gay,
Remember the poor whilst ye are above ground,
And still give a little, ye well enough may,
Repent and relent, amend and be sound,
[Page 103] I tell ye in time,
In this godly Rime,
That the other world is a much hotter clime,
Then doe some good deeds, whilst ye are in the way,
Deferre it no longer to another day,
What thanks will ye have to give (when ye die)
To the rich now the poor doe starvingly lie.
Ye gamesters who sit up whole nights at your dice,
And never consider the time that ye spend,
And think that fair-play is a virtue not vice,
Although ye undoe your selves or your friend:
But take it from me,
Who ever ye be,
From cheating and swearing, ye are not all free,
And men do but flatter themselves in a sin,
To get from another a point or a pin;
For covetousness is the root of all ill,
The rich are made poor, the poor poorer still.
Ye merchants and Citizen-trades of all sorts,
Who eat of the best, and trick-up your wives,
Who take your delights in plaies and in sports,
Your wares are no better, then are your bad lives.
There are some good men,
Yet not one in ten,
[Page 104] But saies to what e're he can get his Amen,
Alack and-a day for ill gotten goods
Will moulder away like sands with the sloods,
Repent and be humble, give well to the poor,
VVhat's honestly got increaseth your store.
Remember those thousands who lately have dy'd,
Remember your fears and your promises made,
Your sins of Rebellion, your lusts and your pride,
Take heed you relapse not, unto the same trade:
Amend all your lives,
Both husbands and wives,
For they must needs goe, when the Devill 'tis drives,
Fear God in the first place, the King next obey,
Each one love their neighbour, let all of us pray,
Our peace and our plenty will then so succeed,
Though all be not rich, yet none will have need.

The Day starre of the North.

A Maid so fair, so chaste, and good,
And anciently of Brittish blood,
From Maddocks Princes of North-wales,
Doth now in Doncaster reside,
So fam'd of all both farre and wide.
THis wonder of the Norther starre,
VVhich shines so bright at Donc [...]ster
Doth threaten all mankind a warre,
VVhich no body can deny.
The French, the Dutch, and Danish fleet,
If ever they should come to meet,
Must all lye captives at her feet,
VVhich no body can deny.
High blooded Princes and hot Peers,
Must altogether shake their ears,
Though ne're so bold in their cariers,
Which no body can deny.
Your small Knights-errant; she defies,
For if that any one she spies,
To look on her, he surely dies,
Which no body can deny.
Had Randolph been a Rowland too,
Alass 'twere more then they could do,
To stand the brunt of such a foe,
Which no body can deny.
A hundred Knights at once she kill'd
Or maimed so she made them yield,
Not one of them could touch her shield,
Which no body can deny.
The bravest Knights, though ne're so bold,
But like sheep driving to a fold,
She makes their hearts as tame and cold,
Which no body can deny.
The fairest Queens of Amazons,
With her brought in comparisons,
Are Pigmies to the greatest Dons,
Which no body can deny.
Had Hercules met this one maid,
Though fifty in one night he pay'd,
Yet here he would have prov'd a Jade,
Which no body can deny.
If all our guards of horse were there,
The oaths of chastity must swear,
Or all of them she would cashiere,
Which no body can deny.
The peace we talk of with the Dutch
Doth not concern us half so much,
We better know to deal with such,
Which no body can deny.
We first should make a peace with her,
As York did once with Lancaster,
So London now with Doncaster,
Which no body can deny.
Defend us, should she come to town,
And on the Court at White-hall frown,
Then all the folks would tumble down,
Which no body can deny.
Nay worse then that, our women too,
Shee'd teach them all to answer no,
Then we should have no more to do,
Which no body can deny.
What would become of all our youth,
So Ticklish in tail and mouth,
In this new mode of honest truth,
Which no body can deny.
No, no, she never must come here,
We must not live in so much fear,
The North's enouggh to govern there,
Which no body can deny.

The Northern Lass to the same Person,

To a new Tune.
Fairer maid cannot be found,
In any place on English ground,
Fame gives her out as good as fair,
'Tis very true; though wondrous rare.
There dwels a Maid in Doncaster,
Is named Betty Maddocks,
No fallow Deer so plump and fair
E're fedd in Park or Paddocks.
Her skin as sleek
As Taffies Leek,
[Page 108] And white as t'other end on't,
Like snow doth melt,
So soon as felt,
Could you but once descend on't.
The spider-weaver never spun
Threds like her lovely tresses,
Like purled gold, the curled ends
Choise Nature made for dresses;
Adown they flow,
Her feet below,
Allparts are now so hidden,
You cannot spye,
(Figg-leaves laid by)
One twist of the forbidden.
Her eyes have no comparison,
But like to one another,
Her lips are twins, fine Lobster-red,
And those who would not smother,
Her wasps-like, wast,
So neatly Iac't,
Without a sting i'th tail on't,
Yet though there were,
I wonder where
The man is, who would fail on't.
I'm sure high-mounting Cavaliers,
Have often there alighted,
[Page 109] She was the business, they had there
And still they were benighted:
Both Lord and Duke,
She made to puke,
In love so much be-spatter'd,
But not a touch,
For ne're so much,
Not one of them she matter'd.
A hundred horse beshrew my heart,
At once to ride on wooing,
And by a stout Commander ledde,
With hopes of mighty doing,
No Officer,
Nor Brigadier,
Nor Quarstermaster sent her,
With all their horse,
And mighty force,
Could in her quarters enter.
Yet she permitted them to eat,
And drink whilst they would tarry,
A thousand oaths were sworn to bedd
Her first, and then to marry;
In troth quoth she,
Your honesty,
Appears in making matches,
When I am wedd,
Ile goe to bedd,
And not be sung in Catches.
Of seven husbands I have read,
But of a hundred never,
And since I cannot marry all,
For one I will endeavour;
This I propose
To him a choose,
For I will have this Tryal,
But daunce me down,
I am his own,
He shall have no denial.
They danc'd a Jigg, but fell so fast,
There's none could bear up to her,
Only the gallant that came last,
Made oath he would undo her:
She smil [...]ng said,
Poor me a maid,
Must live a little longer,
And straight she found
Him on the ground,
Now hopes to find a stronger.

The Parson of Rumford, or a merry maying,

To the Tune of, Away to Twiford, away, away.
I Sing of no Ladies who dance in the Court,
Nor of the bigg Lords, so hugeously gay,
But of Lads and of Iasses, who make as good sport,
Then away to Rumford, away, away.
From Burnt-wood, and Epping, from Bow, and Mile-end,
With ribbons and flowers, with garlands for May,
Fine girls and their lovers did trip it an end,
And away to Rumford, away, away.
The streets with green rushes, and bowers of boughs,
To welcome these guests, the musick doth play,
The houses as sweet as the breaths of our cows,
Come away to Rumford away, away.
What tricking, what trimming, what puddings, what sowse,
Nay mustard with beef prepar'd for the day,
And Piggs that the Parson kept long in his house
For this meeting at Rumford to day, to day.
But O, the brave Gammons with pepper and cloves,
And stinging good ale, was there by my fay.
As sweet and as hot as the buss of our loves,
Come away to Rumford, away, away.
Then cheese-cakes, with currans so finely were set,
Your Ladies black-patches, are not so gay,
Stew'd-pruins in a syrup, as black as the jet,
Come away to Rumford, away, away.
This woundy great feast the Parson did make,
In his close-girt-coat, as pert as a Jay,
Could no more stand still, then a beat at a stake,
In the town of Rumford, to day, to day.
For joy, he spurt'd us a question to marry,
And told us the season was best in May,
Goe to it quoth he, for time will not tarry,
And welcome to Rumford, I say, I say.
We look'd, and we look'd on one another,
He formerly taught us our flesh was but clay,
Why should we not joyn, like sister and brother,
'Tis time at Rumford, to day, to day.
Then Rowland a Keeper in Epping Chase,
As bold as a stagg at his Rut, did say.
Fair Win—now 'Ile marry, not bating an Ace,
This day at Rumford, to day to day.
She blush'd, and she wish'd it were quietly done▪
But said good Rowland, what hast is I pray,
Now you hold me so fast that I cannot run,
This night then in Rumford, I'le stay, I'le stay.
Now hey for Burnt-wood, Tom Tanner did cry,
His face shining yellow, his hands brown bay,
He swor'd he'd be coupled to Jenny or dye,
In the Town of Rumford, to day, to day.
Dick Butcher of Bow came in a great huffe,
Swore Doll of the Dairy should lead the way,
Since both he and she handled much better stuffe,
In the Town of Rumford, then they, then they.
Little Robbin a glover of Mile-end Town,
With Mawd who dwelt at the Bottle of Hay,
Were clapt together with a hey derry down,
And all in Rumford to day, to day.
A dozen in couples, more the next morn,
Went all to the Church to marry and pray,
That e'ry one might have a small pocket horn,
When they went from Rumford, away, away.
Strike up Tom Piper, and Kit with your Fiddle,
Play Room for Cuckolds, 'tis now almost day,
Goe home with your wives, and play at down­diddle,
And away from Rumford, away, away.

Carolus, A Carolo, Carolo Magno Major. Upon his Highness the Duke of York, his Victory, at Sea over the Dutch.

WHat sawcy mungrel slaves are those,
Greater then Charls the great t'oppose,
M [...]screant Mahounds, Rebel-state,
Your daring hastens on your fate,
Will Puny-Gyants make a warre,
'Gainst Heavens praedict, by a starre,
Calling to Battail mighty Yorke
A glorious man to do their work;
Vain pufft up Bubbles, durst ye think,
That ye could swim, and he should sink,
Great men are call'd to sit above;
Your groveling souls, toth' Center moove,
Are Princes Prize for Butter-boxes,
Or Lyons to be tane by Foxes:
Ye Mushromes grown under our shade,
Who your own safeties have betray'd,
Forgiu's Heaven we did maintain
Those Boars against the King of Spain,
But nature planted 'gainst your shoars
English to kill such brawny Boars,
'Tis a Kings evil, which we cure,
And stroaking now you must indure,
A second gift our Charls hath blest,
To cure Rebellion in the breast,
[Page 115] When we protected Fishermen,
Innocent we thought ye then,
Ye practis'd new Apostle-ship,
And through the world your selves did ship,
As Missioners from Heaven sent
To farm the world at such a Rent,
Forgiveness for your former crimes
Might have been had, if begg'd betimes,
For justice now Amboyna calls:
Who sins a new, by old sins falls.
Your hop'd Protector, of our France,
Will but your Miseries advance,
Protectors thrice not in this age
Which he may find i'th second page:
Infatuated men ye are
No hope for mercy's in this warr,
Since some mens lives, this war hath cost
Will not be pay'd when Holland's lost,
Like Jews throughout the world you'l be
Slav'd and condemn'd to infamy,
Into the Sea goe head-long down
Those very graves are not your own,
Ye never had the fishing trade,
So much your own and so well payd,
The next season and fair weather,
Wee'l catch the fish and you together,
For Brittish Monarchs will command,
All ye call'd yours by sea or land,
O're the whole world, Sea-soveraign
First conquer'd by our Charlemain.

A Ballad on a Friends wedding,

to the Tune of Sir John Sucklings Ballad.
As an Attendant on Sir John
I wait without comparison,
Great difference is in our pen
And something in the Maids and Men,
I do not write to get a name
At best, this is but Ballad-fame,
And Suckling hath shut up that door,
To all hereafter as before.
NOw Tom if Suckling were alive,
And knew who Harry were to wive,
He'd shift his scaene I trow,
From Charing-cross to Clarkenwel
And sure as fine a Tale would tell,
As he did long agoe.
But since his wit hath left no heir
Ile sing my song of such a pair,
The like hath not been seen,
In all our markets round about
Within our City-walls, or out,
God bless the King and Queen.
The youth I was about to name
But 'twere too much to lessen fame,
So known of such a grace,
Who 'mongst the ladds and lasses too,
There's none who makes a greater doo,
At e'ry game and chase.
The maid so fair as by report,
The brightest ladies in the court,
Were surely much afraid,
Least she appearing should displace,
The vogue of any better face,
'Tis not unlikely said.
But Cloris and her sheapherd too
Are not concern'd, what others doo,
Under an humble Vne,
Both sitting, in one instant say,
(Too long) to morrow will the day,
Be then I shall be thine.
Poor innocents they knew not why,
Yet would with one another lie,
Their thoughts were grown so great
And Poetiz'd their fancy,
That they immortaliz'd should grow,
Would neither sleep nor eat.
Alike to them was day or night,
They were so raptur'd with delight.
[Page 118] And measur'd time by thought,
Their cloaths by custome they put on,
And hand in hand walk'd fast along
So found the Priest they sought.
The holy-man forgot his book
And now and then he stole a look,
As oft about to pray,
Believing something there inshrin'd,
So much transcending humane kind,
He knew not what to say.
But fearing that he might offend
The Saint so newly made his friend,
Dispatcht what he begun,
The Bride and Bridegroom left the place,
As they had been to run a race,
Scarce knowing what was done.
The people whom they passed by
As if it were some hue and cry,
Forsook their houses quite,
And by pursuing came at last
To find the doors and windows fast,
VVhere they had made their flight.
The guests invited to the day
Came there, but knew not what to say,
It was so strange a thing,
[Page 119] No meat nor musick, favours, gloves,
Posset nor cakes to shew their loves,
The Bride had but a Ring.
Thus full three daies and nights are fled,
Since that the sheapherds took their bed,
'Twas time I trow to rise,
For mortaliz'd they are agen,
And call for meat like other men,
Nature must have supplys.
The Prae-invited guests came in
Like those who had intranced been,
None gave that daies salute,
Seeing the blushing sheapherds sit,
Like our first Parents, for a bit
Of the forbidden fruit.
But then a matron ag'd threescore,
Though truly told, full twenty more,
Thus to the Bridegroom saies,
But not asham'd thou hast done well
And doing often is a spell,
All women love to praise.
The married, and the maids applause,
Soon known by hems at e'ry clause,
The scene is alter'd quite,
[Page 120] For now the house with noise doth ring,
In e'ry tongue and tail a sting,
For such another night.
The Souldier who at push of pike,
Saies one, stands longest I doe like,
And thrusts, and thrusts agen;
Another cries, I love the brunt
And brave induring in the front,
Give me such sprightly men.
But then a blushing maid replys,
My father told my mother lyes,
And so may others doe;
He promis'd her, the Seamans vow,
But he perform'd the Lord knows how,
And glad she had it too.
Now supper call'd the Musick playes
Healths to those pleasant nights and dayes,
The sheapherds lately past;
The tables drawn, a dance or two,
The Bride and Groom had more to doe,
Such as they did the last.
But stay the maids, now claim a right
A custome, (yet) of much despight,
To see the Bride in bed,
Which willingly she would excuse
Though seemingly did not refuse,
'Twas now no May-den-head.
The men for Bridal garters strive
The Mayds for Codpeice points alive,
But see a wondrous scape;
For had his breeches now been on,
Had suffer'd a dissection,
Or they had made a Rape.
But still the stockings are to throw,
Some threw too high, and some too low,
There's none could hit the mark:
But left the bride and bridegroom too't,
Assut'd enough that they could doo't,
Though it were ne're so dark.

Of Amity and Friendship.

AMity is a sacred flame,
Nature first kindled in our breasts,
That heat extinct; only the name
Equal remains to men and beasts.
Soul of the world; true Amity,
As needful is to all mankind,
As fire and water, for we see
Without no joy nor tast we find.
Salt of our life, nursing mother
To all society humane,
A friend to me, is my brother,
Against an Abel was a Cain.
Tyrants in nature had they power
The Soul of friendship would destroy,
Malice and bad men would deflowr
What e're themselves could not enjoy.
Friendship sufficeth to preserve
The world; no need of laws to bind,
Which now as second means does serve,
To awe those wills to bad inclind.
Howe're the law takes place below,
For friendship rules the heart and hand,
Our wills and the effects; we know,
The Law but outsides can command.
All good law-makers ever had
A greater care of Amity
Then Justice; though the laws not bad,
Yet sometimes credit loose we see.
Friendship distinguish'd into parts
Nature, virtue, profit, pleasure,
Virtue the noblest wedlocks hearts,
'Tis the souls indies natures measure.
The portract and description
Of perfect friendship is a free,
And general confusion,
Of souls exchang'd in Amity.
Not only a conjunction
Of solid things however knit,
There may be separation,
This perfect love will not admit.
The souls are plung'd and drowned so
In one another that you can,
No more divide then you can do,
Things liquid, or create a man.
On choice and liberty of will,
'Tis built without exception,
Goods, honours, judgments, thoughts and will,
Nay life; this is perfection.
From this confusion proceeds
You cannot lend nor give to each.
No speech of good turns or good deeds,
Nor thanks for that declares a breach.
In common friendships these are found
The nourishers; in union
Those testimonies are not sound,
But signs are of division.
'Twere nonsense and strange complement
To thank my self for what I doe,
Unto my self who can invent,
I should divide my self in two.
Disputers in Religion
Like talkers are of Amity,
For in a thousend there's not one,
Who practise that divinity.
Oh sacred friendship much abus'd!
Transmuted into policy,
For want of wit he is accus'd,
Hath friendship and true honesty.
Were all to Avarice inclin'd,
The world would quickly have an end,
Meum not Tuum we should find,
Would leave but one himself to freind.
God was for money bought and sold,
Yet still we dote on cursed pelf,
May he that makes (his God) his gold,
Like that Apostate hang himself.
Perverted principles; for truth
Is now asserted interest,
The Religion of age and youth,
Friendship's a name without a Test.

Postcript to the Reader.

NOw you have pay'd, and Read, Farewel.
Be wiser yet and keep counsel,
For like to him who show'd a Mare
Horse and no Horse, to be seen there,
The Tayl was where the Head should be,
Tot'h Manger ty'd; my Poetry;
Is such a show; for wanting Coyn,
The Lyon with the Fox I joyn.
And thank ye all for this Relief
'Tis better then a Begging-brief,
In all this Town ye cannot find
A fitter Man to cheat the Blind.

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