This, as I wish for, so I hope to see ;
Though you, my lord, have been unkind to me,
To wound my heart, and never to apply,
When you had power, the meanest remedy.
Well; though my griefe by you was gall'd the more, Yet I bring balme and oile to heal your sore.
DISS WASIONS FROM IDLENESSE.
CYNTHIUS pluck ye by the eare,
That ye may good doctrine heare.
Play not with the maiden-haire,
For each ringlet there's a snare.
Cheek, and eye, and lip, and chin,
These are traps to take fooles in.
Armes, and hands, and all parts else,
Are but toiles, or manicles,
Set on purpose to enthrall
Men, but slothfulls most of all.
Live employ'd, and so live free
From these fetters; like to me,—
Who have found, and still can prove,
The lazie man the most doth love.
STRUT, once a fore-man of a shop we knew,
But turn'd a ladies usher now, 'tis true:
Tell me, has Strut got ere a title more?
he's but fore-man, as he was before.
AN EPITHALAMIE TO SIR THOMAS SOUTHWELL AND HIS LADIE.
Now, now's the time; so oft by truth
Promis'd sho'd come to crown your youth.
Then, faire ones, doe not wrong
Your joyes by staying long,
Or let love's fire goe out,
By lingring thus in doubt:
But learn, that time, once lost,
Is ne'r redeem'd by cost.
Then away; come, Hymen, guide
To the bed the bashfull bride.
Is it, sweet maid, your fault these holy
Bridall-rites goe on so slowly?
Deare, is it this you dread,
The losse of maiden-head?
Beleeve me; you will most
Esteeme it when 'tis lost:
Then it no longer keep,
Lest issue lye asleep.
Then away; come, Hymen, guide
To the bed the bashfull bride.
These precious pearly purling teares,
But spring from ceremonious feares;
And 'tis but native shame
That hides the loving flame,
And may a while controule
The soft and am'rous soule;
But yet, Loves fire will wast
Such bashfulnesse at last.
Then away; come, Hymen, guide
To the bed the bashfull bride.
Night now hath watch'd herself half blind;
Yet not a maiden-head resign'd!
Tis strange, ye will not flie
To love's sweet mysterie.
Might yon full-moon the sweets
Have, promis'd to your sheets,
She soon wo'd leave her spheare,
To be admitted there.
Then away; come, Hymen, guide
To the bed the bashfull bride.
On, on devoutly, make no stay;
While Domiduca leads the way,
And Genius, who attends
The bed for luckie ends:
goes the houres,
And Graces strewing flowers;
And the boyes with sweet tunes sing,
Hymen! O Hymen! bring
Home the turtles; Hymen, guide
To the bed the bashfull bride.
Behold! how Hymen's taper-light
Shews you how much is spent of night.
See, see the bride-groom's torch
Halfe wasted in the porch.
And now those tapers five,
That shew the womb shall thrive,
Their silv'rie flames advance,
To tell all prosp❜rous chance
Still shall crown the happy life
Of the good man and the wife.
Move forward then your rosie feet,
And make what ere they touch turn sweet. May all like flowrie meads
Smell, where your soft foot treads;
And every thing assume
To it the like perfume:
As Zephirus when he 'spires
Through woodbine, and sweet-bryers.
Then away; come, Hymen, guide
To the bed the bashfull bride.
And now the yellow vaile at last
Over her fragrant cheek is cast;
Now seems she to expresse
A bashfull willingnesse ;
Shewing a heart consenting,
As with a will repenting.
Then gently lead her on
With wise suspicion ;
For that matrons say a measure
Of that passion sweetens pleasure.
You, you that be of her neerest kin,
Now o'er the threshold force her in.
But to avert the worst,
Let her her fillets first
Knit to the posts: this point
Remembring, to anoint
The sides; for 'tis a charme
Strong against future harme,
And the evil deads, the which
There was hidden by the witch.
O Venus! thou to whom is known
The best way how to loose the zone
Of virgins, tell the maid,
She need not be afraid;
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