HIS FARE-WELL TO SACK.
FAREWELL, thou thing, time-past so knowne, so
To me, as blood to life and spirit: neare,
Nay, thou more neare then kindred, friend, man, wife,
Male to the female, soule to body life
To quick action, or the warme soft side
Of the resigning, yet resisting bride.
The kisse of virgins; first-fruits of the bed;
Soft speech, smooth touch, the lips, the maidenhead :
These, and a thousand sweets, co'd never be
So neare, or deare, as thou wast once to me.
O thou the drink of gods, and angels! wine
That scatter'st spirit and lust; whose purest shine,
More radiant then the summers sun-beams shows;
Each way illustrious, brave; and like to those
Comets we see by night; whose shagg'd portents
Fore-tell the comming of some dire events:
Or some full flame, which with a pride aspires,
Throwing about his wild, and active fires.
'Tis thou, above nectar, O divinest soule!
(Eternall in thy self) that canst controule
That, which subverts whole nature, grief and care;
Vexation of the mind, and damn'd despaire.
'Tis thou, alone, who with thy mistick fan,
Work'st more then wisdome, art, or nature can,
To rouze the sacred madnesse; and awake
The frost-bound-blood, and spirits; and to make
Them frantick with thy raptures, flashing through
The soule, like lightning, and as active too.
'Tis not Apollo can, or those thrice three
Castalian sisters, sing, if wanting thee.
Horace, Anacreon both had lost their fame,
Hadst thou not fill'd them with thy fire and flame.
Phæbean splendour! and thou Thespian spring!
Of which, sweet swans must drink, before they sing
Their true-pac'd numbers, and their holy-layes,
Which makes them worthy cedar, and the bayes.
But why? why longer doe I gaze upon
Thee with the eye of admiration ?
Since I must leave thee; and enforc'd, must say
To all thy witching beauties, Goe, away.
But if thy whimpring looks doe ask me why?
Then know, that nature bids thee goe, not I.
'Tis her erroneous self has made a braine
Uncapable of such a soveraigne,
As is thy powerfull selfe. Prethee not smile;
Or smile more inly; lest thy looks beguile
My vowes denounc'd in zeale, which thus much show thee,
That I have sworn, but by thy looks to know thee.
Let others drink thee freely; and desire
Thee and their lips espous'd; while I admire,
And love thee; but not taste thee. Let my muse
Faile of thy former helps; and onely use
Her inadult'rate strength: what's done by me
Hereafter, shall smell of the lamp, not thee.
LASCO had none, but now some teeth has got;
Which though they furre, will neither ake, or
Six teeth he has, whereof twice two are known
Made of a haft, that was a mutton-bone.
Which not for use, but meerly for the sight,
He weares all day, and drawes those teeth at night.
UPON MRS. ELIZ: WHEELER, UNDER THE NAME OF AMARILLIS.
WEET Amarillis, by a spring's
Soft and soule-melting murmurings,
Slept; and thus sleeping, thither flew
A Robin-red-brest; who at view,
Not seeing her at all to stir,
Brought leaves and mosse to cover her:
But while he, perking, there did prie
About the arch of either eye;
The lid began to let out day;
At which poore Robin flew away:
And seeing her not dead, but all disleav'd;
He chirpt for joy, to see himself disceav'd.
OR second course, last night, a custard came
To th' board, so hot, as none co'd touch the
Furze, three or foure times with his cheeks did blow
Upon the custard, and thus cooled so;
It seem'd by this time to admit the touch:
But none cold eate it, 'cause it stunk so much.
OLD now thine armes; and hang the head,
Like to a Lillie withered:
Next, look thou like a sickly moone;
Or like Jocasta in a swoone.
Then weep, and sigh, and softly goe,
Like to a widdow drown'd in woe:
Or like a virgin full of ruth,
For the lost sweet-heart of her youth:
And all because, faire maid, thou art
Insensible of all my smart;
And of those evill dayes that be
Now posting on to punish thee
The Gods are easie, and condemne
All such as are not soft like them.
MAKE me a heaven; and make me there
Many a lesse and greater spheare.
Make me the straight, and oblique lines;
The motions, lations, and the signes.
Make me a chariot, and a sun;
And let them through a zodiac run:
Next, place me zones, and tropicks there;
With all the seasons of the yeare.
Make me a sun-set; and a night:
And then present the mornings-light
Cloath'd in her chamlets of delight.
To these, make clouds to poure downe raine;
With weather foule, then faire againe.
And when, wise artist, that thou hast,
With all that can be, this heaven grac't;
Ah! what is then this curious skie,
But onely my Corinna's eye?
UPON THE MUCH LAMENTED, MR. J. WARR.
WHAT wisdome, learning, wit, or worth,
Youth, or sweet nature, co'd bring forth,
Rests here with him; who was the fame,
The volume of himselfe, and name.
If, reader, then thou wilt draw neere,
And doe an honour to thy teare;
Weep then for him, for whom laments
Not one, but many monuments.
GRYLL eates, but ne're sayes grace; to speak the
Gryll either keeps his breath to coole his broth;
Or else because Grill's roste do's burn his spit,
Gryll will not therefore say a grace for it.
THE SUSPITION UPON HIS OVER-MUCH FAMILIARITY WITH A GENTLEWOMAN.
ND must we part, because some say,
Loud is our love, and loose our play,
And more then well becomes the day?
Alas for pitty! and for us
Most innocent, and injur'd thus.
Had we kept close, or play'd within,
Suspition now had been the sinne,
And shame had follow'd long ere this,
T'ave plagu'd, what now unpunisht is.
But we as fearlesse of the sunne,
As faultlesse; will not wish undone,
What now is done: since where no sin
Unbolts the doore, no shame comes in.
Then, comely and most fragrant maid,
Be you more warie, then afraid
Of these reports; because you see
The fairest most suspected be.
The common formes have no one eye,
Or eare of burning jealousie
To follow them: but chiefly, where
Love makes the cheek, and chin a sphere
To dance and play in trust me, there
Suspicion questions every haire.
Come, you are faire; and sho'd be seen
While you are in your sprightfull green:
And what though you had been embrac't
By me, were you for that unchast?
No, no, no more then is yond' moone,
Which shining in her perfect noone;
In all that great and glorious light,
Continues cold, as is the night.
Then, beauteous maid, you may retire;
And as for me, my chast desire
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