Cupids Cabinet Unlock't, OR, THE NEW ACCADEMY OF COMPLEMENTS, Odes, Epigrams, Songs, and Sonnets, Poesies, Presentations, Congratulations, Ejaculations, Rhapsodies, &c.
With other various fancies.
Created partly for the delight, but chiefly for the use of all Ladies, Gentlemen, and Strangers, who affect to speak Elegantly, or write Queintly
By W. Shakespeare.
A SONNET. Inviting to some pleasant walk.
1.
COme away blest Soules, no more
Feed your eyes with what is poor,
'Tis enough that you have blest
What was rude, what was undrest,
And created with your eyes
Out of Chaos Paradise.
2.
These Trees, no golden Apples give,
Here's no Adam, here's no Eve,
Not a Serpent dares appear
While you please to tarry here.
Oh! then sit, and take your due,
Those the first fruits are that grew
In this Eden, and are thrown
On this Altar as your own.
AN EPIGRAM.
A Wonderfull scarcity will shortly ensue
Of Butchers, of Bakers, and all such as brue.
Of Tanners, of Taylors, of Smiths, and the rest
Of all occupations, that can be express'd,
In the year of our Lord, seven hundred and ten
I think, for all these will be Gentlemen.
A CHARM, To expell Melancholy.
HEnce loathed Melancholly
Of Cerberus, and blackest midnight born
'Mongst horrid shapes, and shriecks, and sights unholy,
In the Stygian Cave forlorn
Finde out some uncouth cell,
Where the night Raven sings
And brooding darknesse spreads his jealous wings
There, (ragg [...]d as thy locks)
Under those Ebon shades, and low brow'd Rocks
In dark Cimmerian shades for ever dwell.
The Souldiers Song.
COme let the state stay,
and drink away,
There is no businesse above it,
It warms the cold brain,
Makes us speak in high strain,
Hee's a fool that does not approve it.
The Macedon youth
Left behinde this truth,
That nothing is done, with much thinking:
He drunk, and he fought
Till he had what he sought;
The world was his own by good drinking.
AN EPIGRAM.
CAriola hath a spot upon her face,
Mixt with sweet beauty, adding to her grace,
By what sweet influence, it was begot
I know not, but it is a spotlesse spot.
De eadem.
As with fresh meat, mixture of Salt is meet,
And Vinegar doth relish well the sweet,
So in fair faces moulds sometime arise,
Which serve to stay the surfet of our eyes.
A Song.
O'Re the smooth enamel'd green,
Where no print of step hath been,
Follow me as I sing,
And touch the warbled string.
Under the shady roof
Of branching Elm, starre-proof,
Follow me
Ile bring you where
A feigned name given by the Author to his Mistresse.
Clarissa sitsClad in splendor as befits
Her Diety.
Such a Rural Queen
All Arcadia hath not seen.
AN EPIGRAM.
WIse is that fool, that hath his Coffers full,
And riches free'd, adorn the veriest gull,
[...]
He hath, he hath the red sinn', and the yellow.
Five LYRICK PIECES, Dedicated, by the Author, to the truely fair, and noble Mistresse, E. C.
1.
I Can no longer (sweet) forbear
Since, now, your cation is my fear,
And the wrinkles, on your brow
(More white then Pelops shoulder) plow
Large furrows, on my panting heart;
Cupids sledge, not Cupids Dart
Hath bruiz'd, not pierc'd it; why should I
Alone, in silence pine, and dy?
And not as others, finde a vent?
Winds earth-quakes cause, when they are pent
In hollow Grots, but gently sail
With a smooth, and easie gale,
When their Patents sign'd to blow,
When, and where they list to go.
2.
Shall I impeach my self, and say,
I have deserv'd this dire delay,
And that your frowns I merit more
Then all your favours heretofore.
Shall I divulge the truth, and tell
I am (in Love) an infidel?
Nature in giving form to thee,
Exhausted all her treasury,
He then that doth not idolize
Her Master piece, and sacrifice
Devoutly to it, needs must be
A wretch, prophane, and I am he.
My error's found, and now command
My pennance, what comes from your hand,
I shall with a religious awe,
Accept, and make your will my Law.
Pronounce it Ladie, let your threat
Be, as my quondam crime was, great.
3.
Now purg'd by bless'd, and holy fire
Let me, triumphant, strike my Lyre,
And sing her praises, who doth deigne
To be my Goddesse once again,
And let my piercing numbers move,
As Orpheus er'st, the shady grove
Of Ossa, and allure each stone,
As once the Harp of Amphion,
Like him of Sulmo, let me sing
And gently strike Catullus string,
Or give me Flaccus heavenly note,
That I may like some Cherub vote,
Heark Goddesse, thus doth Clio sing
Ecchoed from Parnassus spring.
4.
What th'antick Bards fabled of old,
In thee a real truth will hold,
Hyperion shines, more often then
He would, upon the race of men,
To gaze on thy bright beauty; thee
He hath design'd his Lawrell Tree,
And Iove with horn's would crown his scull
Once more, save that thou hat'st a Bul:
Bacchus hath often fed thy taste
As (she, so many ages past)
Fair hair'd Erigone, and swears
Thou art the sweetest of thy years,
Saturnus sister, Pallas, she
That took conception of the Sea,
Striving for Ates gift, had lost
That which, Dardania, dearly cost,
Hadst thou thy self to Paris shown,
The Apple [sure,] had been thy own
Divinest beauty, fairer faire
Then she Thyoneus made a starre.
Men say three Graces, but thy worth
Doth canonize thee for a fourth;
So sweet thy look, so grave thy gate
Such luster (ne're, yet pointed at
By Petrarchs pen) doth richly flow,
Onely an Angels pen can show
Its perfect essence, how can I
Give thy excentrick entity.
5.
Come then (my dearest, let's combine)
As the strong Oake, and creeping Vine,
And mix in an alternate warre,
[A happy ill, a peacefull jarre]
While we in bickering do consent
Our skirmige shall be incruent,
And when w'are marry'd, wee'l compare
Our mouths, and thence fetch fresher aire.
Throw by thy vestments then, and show
My eyes, a walking hill of snow.
Oh, how my ravish'd sense doth glory
To sleep on such a promontory,
Now while our pleasant toyl we ply,
Heark, how the sphears in harmony
Do meet, Neptune forgets to roare,
The Syrens sport upon the shore.
Nature her self doth smile, and all
Creatures (save those irrational)
In imitation of our loves
Practise the Complement of Doves
This pleasant juncture (from on hie)
Another age doth typifie,
Which shall be truely stil'd of Gold,
When Love shall not be bought, or sold.
A Letter.
Dearest Lady,
SInce 'tis my fate to be thy slave,
Render such pity thou would'st crave,
If 'twere thy fortune so to be
To him, that Courts his destiny,
My moans sufficient were to melt
A flinty heart, who Love ne're felt,
Yet all those tears do prove in vain,
To quench my scorching Love-sick pain,
'Twas those Magnetick eyes that drew
My heart from me at the first view,
If then to Love, thou were't the wombe
That gave it life, be not the Tombe.
If thou bee'st pleas'd, exile delay
Dangers attend a tedious way,
Few are the words, that may combine
Our hearts, 'tis onely say, th'art mine,
But if another hath possest
Those joyes, that should have made me blest,
Be speedy in thy doom, and I
By death am freed from misery.
Yours, and not his own K. D.
SONG In parts.
GALFREDO, LUCINDA.
GALFREDO.
DIdst thou not once, Lucinda, vow,
For to love none but me.
LƲCINDA.
I, But my Mother tells me now,
I must love wealth, not thee.
GALFREDO.
'Tis not my fault, my flocks are lean,
Or that they are so few.
LƲCINDA.
[Page 13]Nor mine, I cannot love so mean,
So poor a thing as you.
GALFREDO.
But I must love thee, now believe,
I'le seale it with a kisse.
LVCINDA.
Ile give thee no more cause to grieve,
Than what thou find'st in this.
GALFREDO.
Then witnesse all you powers above,
And by these holy bands.
LVCINDA.
Let it appear, the truest Love
Comes not through wealth, or Lands.
The search. AN ODE.
1.
ECho, sweetest Nymph, that liv'st unseen,
Within thy airie cell,
By slow Meanders margent green,
And in the violet imbroider'd vale,
Where the Love-lorn Nightingale,
Nightly to thee her ravishment doth tell.
2.
Canst thou not tell me of a gentle paire
That likest thy Narcissus are,
Oh, if thou have
Hid them in some flowry cave,
Tell me but where,
Sweet Queen of parly, daughter of the sphear.
So may'st thou be translated to the skies,
And give resound to heavenly harmonies.
AN EPIGRAM.
ULysses, having scap'd the Ocean stood,
Twice ten years pilgrimage in forraigne Lands,
And the sweet songs of Syrens, tun'd to blood,
And Cyclops jaws, and Circes charming hands
Comes home, and, seeming safe, as he mistakes
He steps awry, and falls into a Iakes.
A SONG.
1.
POx take you Mistresse, Ile be gone,
I have a friend to wait upon,
Think you Ile my self confine
To your humours, Lady mine,
No your lowring seems to say,
'Tis a rayny drinking day:
To the Tavern lie away.
2.
There have I a Mistresse got
Cloyster'd in a pottle pot
Brisk, and sprightly, as your eyes,
When those richer glances flies,
Plump, and; bounding lovely fair,
Bucksome, lively, debonaire,
And shee's called, sack my dear.
3.
Sack's my better Mistresse farre,
Sack's my onely beauties starre.
She with no disdain will blast me,
Yet upon the bed shee'l cast me,
And the truth of her to say,
Spirits in me shee'l convey,
More then thou canst take away.
4.
Yet, if thou wil't take the pain
To be good, but once again,
Do but smile, and call me back,
And thou shalt be that Lady, Sack,
Faith, but trie, and thou shalt see
What a loving Soul I'le be,
While I'me drunk, with nought but thee.
MAY MORNING.
NOw the bright morning starre, dayes harbinger,
Comes dauncing from the East, and leads with her
The flowry May, who from her green lap throwes
The yellow Cowslip, and the pale Primrose.
Hail bounteous May, that dost inspire
Mirth, and youth, and warm desire,
Woods, and Groves, are of thy dressing,
Hill, and Dale, doth boast thy blessing.
Thus we salute thee, with our early song,
And singing welcome thee, and wish thee long.
A Letter.
SWeetest, thy name to me doth promise much,
Oh, that thy nature also were but such
But whence (alas) the difference doth grow,
Is hid from me, nor can I come to know
Unto thy excellent, and soveraigne beauty
I'me bound, in all the bonds of love, and duty,
I that till now, could never learne to know,
Whether that Love were seated high, or low.
I, that as yet, did never know loves law,
Nor ere was loving longer then I saw,
I that have never known (what now is common)
Or to throw handsome sheeps eyes at a woman,
I that as yet, have never broke my sleep,
Nor ever did surmise, what charmes did keep
Lovers eyes open, now too well can tell
Those things, that (sure) would please a Lover well.
Shall I relate it to thee? yes I will,
And being told, do thou, or save, or kill,
It would be his chief glorie, if he might
Be ever resident in's Mistrisse sight,
'Twould please him greatly (sure) to have the hap
For to repose himself, in's Mistresse lap,
Or else to have his Mistresse, (kinde, and faire)
With her white hand, to stroke his Amber hair,
Or else to play at foot-st, a while with him,
Or else to play at Barly-break, to breath him,
Or with him for to walk, a turn, or two,
Or else him for to kisse, to call, or woe,
Or entring into some retired Grove,
Beneath some pleasāt shade, to talk of love,
Or when hee's sure, there are no jealous spies
To clip her, and look Babies in her eyes,
Or when that action doth begin to fail
For to supply it, with a pleasing tale;
How Venus was, unto lame Vulcan wed,
And yet how Mars, got into Vulcans bed.
And while that he, and she, did make but one,
Poor Vulcan, was constrain'd to lie alone,
Or if this cannot joy enough afford,
It will be well, for to observe each bird,
How choicely she doth single out her mate,
And unto none, but him her self doth take,
To mark their sportive billing, each with other,
Their Love, and dalliance pronounc'd tother,
Or if this chance for to yield no content,
Then to resort, unto each pleasant plant,
Which, by the Artist grafted skilfully,
Doth bring forth fruit, the more abundantly,
But to conclude, 't would please him best (with me)
Himself, and Mistresse, in one bed to see.
Lady,
the humblest, and faithfullest of your servants R. H.
PRESENTATIONS Of Gifts, Or Love tokens.
The presentation of a pair of Gloves.
HOw happy are these skin's, that licence have
To kisse those hands, and fold those fingers brave,
Which to salute, even love himself desires,
Longing with such warm snow, to coole his fires,
These are too trivial ornaments, to shrowd
Those hands, ore which a bright refulgent cloud
Thrown, from the clear reflection of your eyes,
(The which the Sun, and Moon, do equallize)
Ever adorns, and obvious to the view
To Iuno's anger, and Minerva's too.
Vouchsafe (dear Saint) what time you draw on these,
To think upon the dire perplexities
Your votary endures, and now at last
As these do clip your hands, let him your waste.
The presentation of a paire of Knives.
THese (dearest Mistresse) like your beauty are,
Th'are bright, and sharp, and cut most singular.
As doth your beauty, so they'l clearly shave
Any poor heart, that's destin'd for your slave,
When these you draw, think on those cutting woes,
Those pangs, those dolours, those vexatious throes
My minde endures for your neglect, and say,
Th'art welcome now, for thou hast cut thy way.
The presentation of a pair of Bracelets.
HAd it been possible, in power of Art,
Teares (the salt issue of a grieved heart)
So to cement, and harden that with ease,
They kindly might associate, as do these;
Mistresse I could have spared, at cheap rate
Enough, for to have bought an Indians fate;
So often have the Lymbecks, of my eyes
Condol'd, in briny drops, your cruelties
These, for your use, were plunder'd from the Sea,
Where they were guarded by Lucothoe,
She to Ʋlysses, prov'd most kinde, and I
Hope some hid vertue in these stones doth lie
Infus'd by her, Oh, now no longer check
My hopes, as these about your snowy neck
Have place, so be you pleas'd at length (dear Saint)
My Arms with the same office to acquaint.
A perswasion to Love.
THe deeper (Mistresse) that your Love is set,
The more form, and impression it will get;
And bring forth riper fruits, then such as grow,
And foolishly are planted, scarce so low.
If you please to command me, what I seem
By this stamp't word Impression, for to mean?
Ile tell you (Lady) onely such as these
Impressions have, and still can women please.
Coyn, onely for its stamps sake we allow,
And that same evidence is weak you know
And faulty (sure) that hath no seal to show
Stamp, or Impression, and even such I ken
Are all your Sex, untill th'are stampt by men,
Weak, weak you are, heaven knows, for why? you take
Your chief perfections from the man you make,
Then Lady, if you have desire to be
Perfect, you needs must have recourse to me,
Or to some other, that will freely give
The same our father Adam gave to Eve.
Alas, 'tis nothing, pray you (Mistresse) take it,
There's many wish it, that seem to forsake it,
And when the shamefull dance is past and done,
They much do wish, they had the same begun
A score of year's, before at first they learn't it,
And now with any cost, they'l gladly earn it.
The presentation of a Muffe.
THis is no
Skins of the greatest price, and onely worn by Kings,
ERMINS skin, though ICould wish no worse obscurity,
Clouded your radiant hands, but this▪
Next unto that the costliest is,
Such as the noblest Russian Dame
On gawdy dayes, is proud to claim.
Sol now, in other parts doth raign
Boetes (in his frozen wain)
His Viceroy is, Hyems doth finde
Conjunction with the bleak North winde,
By aide of this (dear Saint) you may
Deride the fury of the day,
When you shall deigne this furre to wear,
Oh! think what mighty power you bear
Over my senses, sometimes chill,
And sometime warm, as fear doth fill
My heart, or joy ravish my minde
In hope, you yet may prove more kinde.
AN ODE CONGRATƲ LATORY.
BLessed be this paire
On the earth, in the aire.
Blessed in their lasting joyes,
Blessed in their Girles, and boyes,
Let them live to hear it told
Their great Grand-Children are grown old,
Let her beauty ever last,
And her vigour never waste,
Let the Sea, that bounds these Isles
Ebb, at least ten thousand miles,
And return no more, but leave
New Kingdoms for them to bequeath,
Let their bodies not be sound,
Dwelling in the sluttish ground.
But translated to those Thrones
Onely built for blessed ones.
AN EPIGRAM.
SIllius hath brought from strange, and forreigne Lands,
A black, and Sootia wench, with many hands,
The which (say some) in golden Letters say,
She is his dearest wife, not stoln away,
He might have sav'd (heaven knows) with small discretion
The Paper, and the Ink, and his confession;
For none, that doth behold her face, and making
Will judge she ere was stoln, but by mistaking.
SONNET.
ADieu sweet Delia, for I must depart,
And leave thy sight, and with thy sight all joy
Convoy'd with care, attend'd with annoy,
A vagabonding wretch from part to part.
Onely dear Delia, grant me so much grace,
As to vouchsafe this heart, distraught with sorrow,
To attend upon thy shadow, even, and morrow,
Whose wonted pleasure was to view thy face.
And if sometimes, thou pensive do remain,
And for thy dearest dear, a sigh let'st slide,
This poor attendant sitting by thy side,
Shall be thy Eccho, to reply again.
Then farewell Delia, for I must away,
But to attend thee, my poor heart shall stay.
A TALE.
A Man there was, who liv'd a merry life,
Till in the end, he took him to a wife,
One that no image was (for she could speak)
And now and then her husbands costrel break,
So fierce she was, and furious as in sum,
She was an arrant Devil of her tongue.
This drove the poor man to a discontent,
And oft, and many times did he repent,
That e're he chang'd his former quiet state,
But 'las, repentance thē did come too late,
No cure he findes, to heal this mallady,
But makes a vertue of necessity,
The common cure for care to every man,
A pot of nappy Ale, where he began
To fortifie his brains, 'gainst all should come,
'Mongst which, the clamour of his wives low'd tongue,
This habit grafted in him, grew so strong,
That when he was from Ale, an houre seem'd long,
So well he liked th' profession, on a time
Having staid long at pot (for rule nor line
Limits no drunkard) even from morne to night,
He hasted home apace, by the Moon light,
Where as he went, what phantasies were bred
I do not know, in his distempered head,
But a strange Ghost appear'd (and forc'd him stay)
With which perplext, he thus beganne to say,
Good spirit if thou be, I need no charme,
For well I know, thou wilt not do me harm,
Or if the Devil, sure, me thou should'st not hurt,
I wedd thy sister, I am plagued for't,
The spirit well approving what he said,
Dissolv'd to aire, and quickly vanished.
A plesant Song.
1.
WHen Autumn' disroabed the woods of their leaves,
And provident Ceres, had got in her sheaves,
When Acorns were fallen,
And Shrubs were grown dead,
Then frosty old Hyems, with Flora would wed.
2.
A rotten old Rustick, with hobnailes in's shoes,
With cobled old Rethorick, a Virgin he woes;
Yea, vertue proves venial,
And beauty is sold,
And Mopsus get his Misa, with Plutho's gold.
3.
Since lovely Corinna, so peerelesse a Gem,
Must match with a block, and so saplesse a stem,
Let Daphne bewail it,
And Cynthia mourn.
And all the Nymphs mirth, into heavinesse turn.
4.
Diana the losse of her Nymph doth deplore,
And vowes him Acteons bad fortune, and more,
A Bull Jove will make him,
And so he doth vow,
His wife he will turn into IO the Cow.
5.
Like Venus to Vulcan, so chaste let her prove,
As constant and quiet, as Iuno to Iove,
As kinde as Zantippe.
To Socrates was.
So let this rude Coridon finde his sweet Lasse.
POESIES for RINGS.
MAy no annoy
Disturb our joy.
Another.
Suspition flie
And jealousie.
Another.
We joyntly both
Have plighted troth.
Another.
Our loyal Love
Was made above.
Another.
No ill shall spot
Our Gordian knot.
Another.
Our hands have given
Our hearts to Heaven.
Another.
Thou art my star,
Be not irregular.
Another.
What can outvy
Our Harmony?
A PROPHETICK ODE.
WHen men and women blushlesse grow
In filthinesse, and act it so,
As if a stallion to be known,
A Princely quality were grown,
Or when your Ladies do appear,
(As if old heath'nish Rome were here)
By Coachfulls, with a brazen face,
To see men run a naked race,
And when sin to a ranknesse springs
Beyond the reach of libellings,
And libelling so common be,
That none shall from their dirt be free,
Though ne're so innocent (but those
Whom no man hates, envies, or knows)
Then look for that, which will ensue
Such impudence, if heaven be true.
Epithalamium, Or A Nuptiall Song.
CRowned be thou Queen of love
By those glorious powers above,
Love, and beauty joyn'd together,
May they col, and kisse each other,
And in mid'st of their delight,
Shew the pleasure in the night,
For where acts of love resort
Longest nights, seem too too short.
May thou sleeping dream of that,
Which thou waking dost pertake,
That both sleep, and watching may,
Make the darkest night seem day.
In thy pleasures, may thy smile
Burnish, like the Camomile,
Which in verdure is increast
Most, when it is most deprest.
Vertues, as they do attend thee,
So may Soveraign thoughts defend thee.
Acting in thy love with him,
Wedlock actions are no sin,
Be he loyal ever thine,
He thy picture, thou his shrine,
Thou the metal, he the mint,
Thou the Wax, and he the print,
He the Lanthorn, thou the Lamp,
Thou the bulloyn, he the stamp,
He the image, leg, and limb,
Thou the mold to cast him in,
He the Plummet, thou the Center,
Thou to shelter, he to enter.
The finishing of usual, and ordinary Epistles.
YOur friend to serve you,
Your faithfull friend.
Your obliged friend.
Your friend and servant.
Your constant friend.
Your immutable friend.
Or thus:
Your servant.
Your humble servant.
Your very servant.
Your humblest servant.
The servant of your worth.
The servant of your worthy vertues.
Or thus.
Your honourer.
Your admirer.
Your adorer.
Your Beadsman.
Yours devoted.
Yours affectionately, &c.
For Amorous Epistles.
The honourer of your perfections.
The adorer of your beauty.
Your beauties vassail.
Your obsequious servant.
Your languishing Lover.
Yours, more than his own.
Yours, wholy to be disposed of.
Yours, in life, or death.
Yours, or his Grave's.
Superscriptions for usual, and ordinaly Epistles.
For the much honoured.
For my approved friend.
For my true friend.
For my much respected friend.
For the much merriting, &c.
For the worthily honoured.
For my dearly loved friend.
For the pious, and truely learned.
Superscriptions for Amorous Epistles.
FOr the truely chaste, and exquisitely beauteous.
For the fair and vertuous.
For the mirrour of her Sex.
For the beauteous, and most ingenious.
For the glorie of her Sex.
For the gallant and truely noble.
For the sweet and vertuous.
For the truely chaste and pious.
For the pattern of perfection.
If any list to make a conceited conclusion to his Letter, then thus.
FRom me, and mine,
To you and yours,
From time to times,
Our prayers like showers
Diffused be
Incessantly.
Your worth's observer.
FINIS.