Kifs you at firft, my lord! 'tis no fair fashion;
Our lips are like rofe-buds, blown with mens breaths,
They lose both fap and favour.
Beaumont and Fletcher's Mad Lover.
-May I tafte
The nectar of her lip? I do not give it
The praise it merits: Antiquity is too pcor
To help me with a fimile t'exprefs her:
Let me drink often from this living spring,
To nourish new invention.
Mafinger's Emperor of the Eaft.
Never man before
More bleft; nor like this kifs hath been another,
But when two dangling cherries kifs'd each other:
Nor, ever beauties like, met at fuch clofes,
But in the kiffes of two damask rofes.
Oh, how the flow'rs preft with their treadings on them,
Strove to caft up their heads to look upon them!
How jealously the buds that so had seen them,
Sent forth the sweetest smells to step between them;
As fearing the perfume lodg'd in their pow'rs,
Once known of them, they might neglect the flow'rs
How often wish'd Amyntas with his heart,
His ruddy lips from hers might never part;
And that the heav'ns this gift were then bequeathing,
To feed on nothing, but each others breathing.
Brown's Paftorals.
Whofe kiffes raise between them fuch a fire,
That should the Phonix fee, he to expire
Would fhun the spicy mountain; and so take
Himself between their lips, a grave to make.
Now you that taste of Hymen's cheer,
See that your lips do meet fo near,
That cockles may be tutor❜d there.
Now let us kifs; would you be gone?
Manners at least allows me one :
Blush you at this? Pretty one stay,
And I will take that kifs away,
Thus with a fecond; and that too
A third wipes off; fo will we go
To numbers that the ftars out-run,
And all the atoms in the fun :
For though we kiss till Phœbus' ray
Sink in the feas, and kiffing ftay
Till his bright beams return again;
There can of all but one remain:
And if for one, good manners call,
In one, good manners, grant me all.
Are kiffes all? They but fore-run
Another duty to be done :
What would you of that minstrel fay
That tunes his pipes, and will not play?
Say what are bloffoms in their prime,
That ripen not in harvest time?
Or what are buds that ne'er disclose
The long'd-for fweetness of the rofe?
So kiffes to a lover's guest
Are invitations, not the feaft.
Thus while fhe fleeps, gods do defcend, and kiss;
They lend all others breath, but borrow this.
Kiffing your woman? Lord, how lady's lips
Hate idleness, and will be bufy'd, when
The rest lies fallow; and rather than want action,
Be kind within themselves, an't be t'enjoy
But the poor pleasure of contemplation!
Fie, what a January lip thou haft!
A pair of ificles! fure, thou haft bought
A pair of caft lips of the chatte Diana's ;
Thy blood's mere fnow-broth, kiss me again.
Hemings's Fatal Contract.
Kiffing, and buffing, differ both in this;
We bufs out wantons, but our wives we kifs.
Thus fpake she; and with fix'd continu'd fight,
The duke did all her bashful beauties view;
Then they with kiffes feal'd their facred plight;
Like flow'rs ftill fweeter as they thicker grew.
Sir W. Davenant's Gondibert.
Her kiffes fafter, though unknown before,
Than bloffoms fall on parting spring, she strew'd;
Than bloffoms fweeter, and in number more.
1. What's to do? 2. I must bluth a while. 1. Blushes are for the morning of love; we Have travell'd many tedious hours fince that, And without any refreshment, except Baiting now and then a kifs: Thofe lips are Delightful places, but not the end of the journey. Crown's City Politicks.
KNOWLEDGE.
Through knowledge we behold the world's creation; How in his cradle firft he foft red was ;
And judge of nature's cunning operation,
How things fhe formed of a formless mafs: By knowledge we do learn cur felves to know; And what to man, and what to God we owe.
Why did my parents fend me to the schools,
'That I with knowledge might enrich my
Since the defire to know, first made men fools,
And did corrupt the root of all mankind ?
For when God's hand, had written in the hearts
Of our first parents, all the rules of good;
So that their skill infus'd, furpafs'd all arts
That ever were before, or fince the flood:
And when their reafon's eye was sharp and clear,
And as an eagle's can behold the fun,
Could have approach'd th' eternal light as near
As th' intellectual angels could have done ;
Ev'n then to them the fp'rit of lies fuggefts,
That they were blind, because they faw not ill;
And breath'd into their incorrupted breasts
A curious wish, which did corrupt their will.
From that fame ill, they ftraight defir'd to know;
Which ill being nought, but a defect of good,
In all God's works the devil could not show,
While man, their lord, in his perfection stood.
So that themselves were first to do the ill,
Ere they thereof the knowledge could attain ;
Like him, that knew not poifon's pow'r to kill,
Until by tafting it, himself was flain.
Ev'n fo, by tasting of that fruit forbid,
Where they fought knowledge, they did error find;
Ill they defir'd to know, and ill they did;
And to give paffion eyes, made reafon blind.
For then their minds did first in passion fee
Those wretched fhapes of mifery and woe,
Of nakedness, of fhame, of poverty;
Which then their own experience made 'em know.
But then grew reafon dark, that she no more
Could the fair forms of good and truth difcern;
Bats they became, who eagles were before,
And this they got by their defire to learn.
But we, their wretched off-fpring, what do we?
Do not we ftill taste of the truth forbid ;
While with fond fruitless curiofity,
In books profane, we feek for knowledge hid ?
What is this knowledge, but the sky-ftoll'n fire,
For which the thief ftill chain'd in ice doth fit;
And which the poor rude fatyr did admire,
And needs would kifs, but burnt his lips with it? What is it, but the cloud of empty rain,
Which when Jove's guest embrac'd, he monsters got? Or the falfe pails, which oft being fill'd with pain, Receiv'd the water, but retain'd it not?
In fine, what is it, but the fiery coach,
Which the youth fought, and fought his death withal? Or the boy's wings, which when he did approach The fun's hot beams, did melt and let him fall? And yet, alas! when all our lamps are burn'd, Our bodies wafted, and our fpirits spent ; When we have all the learned volumes turn'd, Which yields mens wit both help and ornament; What can we know, or what can we difcern, When error clouds the windows of the mind? The divers forms of things how can we learn; That have been ever from our birth-day blind? Sir John Davies.
Another's knowledge
Apply'd to my inftruction, cannot equal
My own foul's knowledge, how to inform acts;
The fun's rich radiance fhot through waves most fair,
Is but a fhadow to his beams i'th' air;
His beams that in the air we fo admire,
Is but a darkness to his flaming fire;
In fire his fervor but as vapour flies,
To what his own pure bofom rarifies :
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