502. TO MISTRESS DOROTHY PARSONS.

If thou ask me, dear, wherefore
I do write of thee no more,
I must answer, sweet, thy part
Less is here than in my heart.

504. HOW HE WOULD DRINK HIS WINE. FILL me my wine in crystal; thus, and thus I see't in's puris naturalibus :

Unmix'd. I love to have it smirk and shine;
'Tis sin I know, 'tis sin to throttle wine.
What madman's he, that when it sparkles so,
Will cool his flames or quench his fires with snow?

505. HOW MARIGOLDS CAME YELLOW.

JEALOUS girls these sometimes were,
While they liv'd or lasted here :
Turn'd to flowers, still they be
Yellow, mark'd for jealousy.

506. THE BROKEN CRYSTAL.

To fetch me wine my Lucia went,
Bearing a crystal continent:

But, making haste, it came to pass
She brake in two the purer glass,

Then smil'd, and sweetly chid her speed;
So with a blush beshrew'd the deed.

Continent, holder.

507. PRECEPTS.

GOOD precepts we must firmly hold,
By daily learning we wax old.

508. TO THE RIGHT HONOURAble edward, earl

OF DORSET.

IF I dare write to you, my lord, who are

Of your own self a public theatre,

And, sitting, see the wiles, ways, walks of wit,
And give a righteous judgment upon it,

What need I care, though some dislike me should,
If Dorset say what Herrick writes is good?
We know y'are learn'd i' th' Muses, and no less
In our state-sanctions, deep or bottomless.
Whose smile can make a poet, and your glance
Dash all bad poems out of countenance;

So that an author needs no other bays
For coronation than your only praise,
And no one mischief greater than your frown
To null his numbers, and to blast his crown.
Few live the life immortal. He ensures
His fame's long life who strives to set up yours.

509. UPON HIMSELF.

TH'ART hence removing (like a shepherd's tent), And walk thou must the way that others went : Fall thou must first, then rise to life with these, Mark'd in thy book for faithful witnesses.

510. HOPE WELL AND HAVE WELL: OR, FAIR AFTER FOUL WEATHER.

WHAT though the heaven be lowering now, And look with a contracted brow?

We shall discover, by-and-by,

A repurgation of the sky;

And when those clouds away are driven,
Then will appear a cheerful heaven.

511. UPON LOVE.

I HELD love's head while it did ache;
But so it chanc'd to be,

The cruel pain did his forsake,

And forthwith came to me.

Ah, me! how shall my grief be still'd?
Or where else shall we find

One like to me, who must be kill'd
For being too-too kind?

512. TO HIS KINSWOMAN, MRS. PENELOPE WHEELER.

NEXT is your lot, fair, to be number'd one, Here, in my book's canonisation :

Late you come in; but you a saint shall be, In chief, in this poetic liturgy.

513. ANOTHER UPON HER.

FIRST, for your shape, the curious cannot show
Any one part that's dissonant in you:

And 'gainst your chaste behaviour there's no plea,
Since you are known to be Penelope.

Thus fair and clean you are, although there be
A mighty strife 'twixt form and chastity.

515. CROSS AND PILE.

FAIR and foul days trip cross and pile; the fair
Far less in number than our foul days are.

516. TO THE LADY CREW, UPON THE DEATH OF

HER CHILD.

WHY, madam, will ye longer weep,
Whenas your baby's lull'd asleep?
And (pretty child) feels now no more
Those pains it lately felt before.
All now is silent; groans are fled :
Your child lies still, yet is not dead;
But rather like a flower hid here
To spring again another year.

Form, beauty.

Trip cross and pile, come haphazard, like the heads and tails of coins.

517. HIS WINDING-SHEET.

COME thou, who art the wine and wit
Of all I've writ:

The grace, the glory, and the best
Piece of the rest.

Thou art of what I did intend

The all and end;

And what was made, was made to meet
Thee, thee, my sheet.

Come then, and be to my chaste side
Both bed and bride.

We two, as reliques left, will have
One rest, one grave.

And, hugging close, we will not fear

Lust entering here:

Where all desires are dead or cold
As is the mould;

And all affections are forgot,

Or trouble not.

Here, here the slaves and pris'ners be
From shackles free:

And weeping widows long oppress'd
Do here find rest.

The wronged client ends his laws

Here, and his cause.

Here those long suits of chancery lie
Quiet, or die:

And all Star-Chamber bills do cease,

Or hold their peace.

Here needs no Court for our Request,
Where all are best,