The narrower ftill it grows; cedars die
Shakespear and Rowley's Birth of Merlin. Since all earth's pleafures are fo fhort and small; The way t' enjoy 'em, is t' abjure 'em all.
Chapman's Buffy D'ambois.
Long lull'd afleep with fcornful fortune's lies,
A flave to pleasure, drown'd in bafe delights;
I made a cov❜nant with my wand'ring eyes,
To entertain them ftill with pleasant fights;
My heart enjoy'd all that was wifh'd of late,
Whilft it the height of happiness did cloy;
Still ferv'd with dainty, but fufpected meat,
My foul with pleasure fick, was faint for joy:
All, with much care, what might procure mine eafe,
My will divin'd, obfequiously devis'd;
And who my fancy any way could please,
As prais'd by me, was by all others priz'd.
Save ferving me, none elfe could have deferv'd,
Of whom whatever came, was held of weight;
My words and looks were carefully observ'd,
And whom I grac'd, were had in honour ftraight; For pomp and pow'r, far paffing other kings.
Whilft too fecure with drowly thoughts i flumber'd, My coffers still were full of precious things,
Of which, as wealth leaft weigh'd, gold fcarce was numb❜red;
I rear'd rare buildings, all embofs'd with gold;
Made ponds for fishes; forefts for wild beasts;
And with vain thoughts which could not be controul'd,
Oft fpent the day in fport, the night in feasts.
I tofs'd the elements with pow'r like Jove's;
Driv'd water up, air down; a pleasant change:
For ftately fountains, artificial groves,
As common things, were not accounted strange.
With me; what more could any monarch crave?
In all the parts of pomp, none could compare :
Myminions gallant, councellors were grave;
My guards were ftrong, my concubines were fair:
VOL. III.
Yea, whilft light fortune my defects fupply'd,
I had all that could breed, as now I find,
In others wonder, in the owner pride:
So puffing up the flesh to spoil the mind.
Thus with delight, long preffing pleasure's grapes,
With fortune I carous'd, what men dear hold:
But ah! from mifery none always fcapes;
One must be wretched once, or young, or old.
E. of Sterline's Cræfus.
Like dew upon the grafs, when pleasure's fun
Shines on your virtues, all your virtue's done.
That pleasure is of all
Moft bountiful and kind,
Marfion's Infatiate Countess.
That fades not straight, but leaves
A living joy behind.
T. Campion's Mafque, at the E. of Somerfet's Marriage. Thus grief and gladnefs ftill by turns do come, But pleasure leaft while doth poffefs the room: Long nights of grief may laft; but lo, one day Of thining comfort flideth foon away.
Farewell to thy enticing vanity,
Thou round gilt box, that doft deceive man's eye!
The wife man knows, when open thou art broke,
The treasure thou includ'ft, is duft and smoke.
Beaumont and Fletcher's Four Plays in One.
What is pleasure,
More than a luftful motion in the sense?
The profecution full of anxious fears;
The end repentance. Though content be call'd
The foul of action, and licentious man
Propounds it as the reafon of his life;
Yet if intemp'rate action purfue it,
The pure end's loft, and ruin must attend it.
Pleasures whofe means are easy, in the end
Do lose themselves. Things only are esteem'd
And valu'd by their acquifition.
Should you win her delights without fome pains,
They would not relish.
As dogs of Nilus drink a fnatch, and gone :
Sweets must be taited, and not glutted on.
Aleyn's Crefcey.
Henceforth, I'll ftrive to fly the fight of pleasure,
As of an harpy or a bafilisk;
And when the flatt'rers, feal my ears with wax,
Took from that boat, that row'd with a deaf oar,
From the fweet tunes of the Sicilian shore.
Marmyon's Holland's Leaguer. Pleasure's a courtly mistress, a conceit
That fmiles and tickles without worth or weight:
Whofe fcatter'd reck'ning, when 'tis to be paid,
Is but repentance, lavishly inlaid.
Why would not eating, drinking, fleeping,
Education of children be half neglected,
Were it not for pleafure? would understanding
Embrace the truth, if it took not pleasure
In it? what kind of men are thofe that oppugn
Pleafure? doth not the courtier take pleasure
In honour; the citizen in wealth; the
Countryman in delights of health; the
Academick in the myfteries of
Learning is there not ev'n in angels, a
Certain incomprehenfible pleasure?
Parthomachia: Or Love's Load-ftone.
Thefe fhort and empty pleasures, and how low
They ftand in my esteem; which ev'ry peasant,
The meaneft fubject in my father's empire,
Enjoys as fully, in as high perfection
As he or I; and which are had in common
By beafts as well as men, wherein they equal,
If not exceed us. Pleafures to which we're led
C 2
Only by fenfe, thofe creatures which have least
Of reafon, moft enjoy.
Ye gods, was it man's nature or his fate,
Betray'd him with fweet pleasure's poison'd bait ?
Which he, with all defigns of art, or pow'r,
Doth with unbridled appetite devour :
And as all poifons fuck the nobleft part,
Pleasure poffeffes firft the head and heart,
Intoxicating both: By them, fhe finds,
And burns the facred temples of our minds.
Pleafures like wonders, quickly lose their price,
When reason or experience makes us wife.
In my delights I can no limits bear.
But, for what reason never could be known,
Our joys have bounds, and our defires have none.
Crown's Caligula.
POETS. POETRY.
O facred poefy, thou fp'rit of Roman arts,
The foul of fcience, and the queen of fouls!
What prophane violence, almost facrilege,
Hath here been offer'd thy divinity,
That thine own guiltless poverty should arm
Prodigious ignorance to wound thee thus?
For thence is all their force of argument
Drawn forth against thee; or from the abuse
Of thy great powers in adult'rate brains:
When fprits, would men learn but to distinguish
And fet true diff'rence 'twixt those jaded wits
That run a broken pace for common hire,
And the high raptures of a happy mufe,
Bne on the wings of her immortal thought,
That kicks at earth with a difdainful heel,
And beats at heav'n's gates with her bright hoofs;
They would not then with fuch diftorted faces,
And defp'rate cenfures, ftab at poefy.
They would admire bright knowledge, and their minds
Should ne'er defcend on fo unworthy objects
As gold or titles: they would dread far more,
To be thought ignorant, than be known poor.
Verfe hath a middle nature; heav'n keeps fouls,
The grave keeps bodies, verfe the fame enrolls.
Dr. Donne.
When heav'n would ftrive to do the best it can,
And put an angel's fpirit into man,
The utmost pow'r it hath, it then doth spend,
When to the world a poet it doth intend:
That little diff'rence 'twixt the gods and us,
By them confirm'd, diftinguifh'd only thus:
Whom they in birth ordain to happy days,
The gods commit their glory to our praise;
T'eternal life when they diffolve their breath,
We likewife fhare a fecond pow'r by death.
Drayton's E. of Surry to Lady Geraldine.
A verfe may find him who a fermon flies;
And turn delight into a facrifice.
You dare not, fir, blafpheme the virtuous ufe
Of facred poetry; nor the fame traduce
Of poets; who not alone immortal be,
But can give others immortality.
Poets that can men into ftars tranflate,
And hurl men down under the feet of fate:
'Twas not Achilles' fword, but Homer's pen,
That made brave Hector die the best of men:
And if that pow'rful Homer likewife would,
Hellen had been a hag, and Troy had stood.
Richard Brome's 'Sparagus Garden. How shall my debts be paid? or can my scores Be clear'd with verfes to my creditors? Hexameter's no fterling; and I fear
What the brain coins, goes fcarce for currant there.
|