POETICAL VARIETIES: OR, VARIETY OF FANCIES.  
By Tho. jordan Gent.  
Carpere vel noli nostra vel ede tua:  Marti. Epigram. 
LONDON, Printed by T. C. for Humphrey Blunden, and are to 〈…〉 his shop, near the Castle Tavern, in Cornhill. 〈…〉   

TO THE MAECENAS OF CANDID INDUSTRY, Mr. JOHN FORD of Gray's Inn, Gent. My humble Muse directs her weak Endeavours.  
Worthy Sir,  
I Have had a long propension in my soul to endeavour something worthy your acceptance, and gain me honour in the oblation, had loved Thalia pleased to bless my brain with some deserving subject; yet these green fruits (though gathered in the Springtime of my knowledge) and far unworthy of so choice a palate, may by your kind acceptance be digested, and thought as sweet to all that taste, as the rich fruit the pregnant Summer yieldeth. Yet, Candid Sir, I had not robbed the Age of so much Impudence as to communicate the weak effects my Infant Muse produceth to your judgement, but that I knew a sweet encouragement lives in your gentle censure can give an inspiration to that brain that is but yet ambitious of desert; which gives me hope I shall (when I write next) produce things that may merit approbation, and cause you to confess me,  
A Servant studious to deserve your love, THO. JORDAN.   

TO THE CRITICAL READER.  
Sour Sir, a word with you;  
SInce I am fallen into the hazard of your infectious censure, and that I know you come to kill, not nurse my infant Muse, my language will have licence; I must tell you, you are ungently bold to trespass on a Page of mine, seek some known Author, whose applauded name selfe-loved opinion taught you to admire; The title page you censure, not the work, I am condemned already by that rule, but 'tis no legal trial; Is your wise knowledge so prophetic grown, that in an Author's name you read his merit, or think you that the learned Magazine is quite exhausted from the thrifty schools to make but one man happy Either resolve to read me honestly with a true purpose to be just in censure, condemning only theft, or such black guilt, or fairly leave me to my Candid Reader.  
THO. JORDAN.   

TO THE CANDID Reader, Health and increase of Knowledge.  
THe pregnant Bee, filled with the honeyed bounty of the Rose, flies to the wealthy Hive as doth my humble Muse unto your Candour, you are a true Maecenas the perfect Storehouse of a royal soul, whose genuine disposition is not turned with the next breath of frail opinion; but will the meanest merit est imate with a most gentle censure. You understand what man would do, and think it more etherial to give his Muse a birth then a destroying sentence; I have composed to feed thy gentle view these various Poems, for which I must Apologise thus much; I have not robbed the Hive of any man's endeavours, or exhausted his honey treasury to enrich my barren labours, but from the native flower sucked I my sweetness, if there be aught that may content thy wealthy palate, it is thine own, the Cook prepared it for thee: Farewell.  
Thine THO. JORDAN.   


Of my friend Mr. Thomas jordan, Tetraslichon.  
IOrdan in Harvest swells, and so thy vain  
Runn's like a sudden Torrent after rain.  
End as thou hast begun, and as that River  
That bears thy name; thou mayst be read forever.  
THO. HEYWOOD.   

To my Friend Mr. Tho. jordan on his Poems, which I title, His Underwood.  
When (jordan) I had read thine Under wood  
of growing Poesy, I understood,  
(At least imagined) that I saw a Spring  
Break through the depth of Winter; and a Ring  
Of Sylvans, Satyrs, and lightfooted Fawns,  
That haunt the Woods, the Mountains, and the Lawns,  
(Each with his Nymph) unanimously met,  
All overjoyed to dance a roundelet.  
For that they found in thy delightful Grove,  
Something for every one of them to love;  
Each in his several kind; and o'er them sat  
The airy Choristers, (none without a Mate)  
Upon thy branches, who unto their dance,  
(With no less joy in Music) did advance  
A welcome, and a wished increasefull way,  
To every stem, to every sprig, and spray,  
Sprung from thy pregnant brain. The Muse's throng.  
To hear those birds chant forth the cheerful Song  
They had inspired them with; whilst through his Rays  
Phoebus sat smiling down, to see his Bays,  
Yet unneglected; and this leaden age  
(Whose dulness damps his Laurel, which the rage  
Of Thunder never blasted) to send forth  
A Genius that to wear it sings its worth.  
And now (most happily) when the Poets old  
Are sinking too! That one so young should hold  
The club up 'gainst the Giant ignorance,  
The malice of the times, and blinder chance,  
Apollo pleased, thou mayst expect soon after  
(For only thou hast moved his this years laughter)  
To be in's Darlings list, then will he shine,  
Propitiously on every plant of thine;  
And make them flourish by his cheering light,  
Through the gross darkness of detraction's spite;  
And send thee followers, and admirers, who  
Shall cry up all thou dost or aim'st to do.  
Mean time I lend (that dares on envy look)  
This Page to bear a Torch before thy book.  
RICH. BROME.   

To Mr. Thomas jordan on his Fancies.  
I Read thy Fancies; wondered how  
Such streams of wit should from thee flow,  
Friend jordan; Inere thought thy head  
(Like Nile's scarce yet discovered)  
Would so break out; but now I am  
Pleased with the knowledge whence they came▪  
Some Poetasters of the times,  
That dabble in the Lake of Rhimes;  
Care not, so they be in Print  
What sordidtrash or stuff is in't.  
There are too many such I fear  
That make Books cheap and Paper dear.  
But thou art poesy's true son,  
The Issue of thy brain doth run  
With well digested matter, thine,  
Are Moral some, and some Divine,  
Some Satyrs some love's Rhapsodies,  
The dead live by thy Elegies.  
We that are old in th' art must leak,  
And worn with often usage break;  
Thy younger pot the Muses will  
With their best waters always fill;  
When we are gone, the World shall see,  
A full-brimed Helicon in thee.  
THO. NABBES.   

To his Friend the Author Mr. Thomas jordan, on his Varieties.  
I Must not jordan pass, though the waves glide  
with equal favour of the wind and tide:  
Nor for the land will I forsake the streams,  
On whose brow danceth flowery Anadems.  
But every limb bathing in fresh delight,  
Quicken the bravery of my appetite,  
I scud amidst the Curls▪ and with my palm,  
Stroke the delicious waters in a calm,  
Whose virtues are more powerful in their birth▪  
Then all the distillations of the earth;  
To sip of this from Cupid's hollow hand,  
Creates effects more strange than dart, or brand:  
Quaff Candid Reader, but dull clots be gone,  
For Iordan's waters, are pure Helicon.  
ED. MAY.   

On my Friend and adopted son Mr. Thomas jordan the Infant-Poet of our Age.  
FRom smallest Springs, arise the greatest streams,  
Thou hast begun well; who dares hinder thee  
Still to go forward, and dilate thy beams,  
T'acquaint the world with thy sweet Poetry.  
Speak still in tune, hide not thy worth but show it,  
That men may say, thouart borne not made a Poe●.  
And he that fails thy growing Muse to cherish,  
May his fixed hopes in expectation perish.  
Thine (sans Compliment)  
I. B.    

POETICAL VARIETIES.  

A Gentleman in love with twenty Mistresses.  
I Prithee leave me love, go place desire  
In those cold hearts that ne'er felt Amorous fire,  
Or let me be thy Martyr, let me burn  
Till I am nought but ashes, and my urn  
Translated to some common Spicery,  
May serve thee more than thy Artillery.  
Coy Madams tasting me in their hot spice,  
Shall feel more flames than all the learned advice  
Of Esculapius can allay, though he  
Descend from Heaven to teach new Mystery;  
If this may not be granted, let me crave  
As many hearts as flames, then shall I have  
A multitude of fayre-ones; Then I may  
Enjoy my Rosa, 
Rosa.  spend the Amorous day  
Within her arms, and at the night retire  
To Violetta, 
Violetta●  quench another fire  
In her cold bosom, but ere day doth rise  
Salute the Morn in my Aurora's 
Aurora.  eyes:  
There like to an Idolater i'll gaze  
Till my Honoria 
Honoria.  rids me of the maze  
And draws me to her Bower, where having spent  
Some heavenly hours, i'll find out Millescent 
Millescent.   
(That wonder of perfection) we two,  
Can teach the Turtles what they ought to do;  
With kisses moist her Ruby lips i'll cover.  
But then Castara 
Castara.  says I do not love her;  
Who with a witty sweet indulgent smile  
Tells me I do forget her all this while.  
Then do I kiss and study to excuse,  
But yet am straight instructed by my Muse.  
B●lla●a 
Bellara.  wants me, there's a mind as fair  
And beautiful as all the other Are:  
In their external features, such a one  
Might have persuaded desperate Phaeton,  
To have forsook his Chariot; her I love  
Next to my Beads, till Fancy bids me prove  
My chaste Eliza, 
Eliza.  in her Virg●n breast,  
Lies far more worth than Poets have expressed.  
In painting ou● Pandora, I confess  
I honour her as I do happiness;  
But not like my beloved Beata, 
Beata.  she  
Can give instructions to Martalitie,  
How we may scape Hell's fatal fire and come,  
To (loves blessed Paradise) Elysium;  
Except Thalia 
Thalia.  (one as fair and kind)  
Persuade's us to be of another mind;  
Makes us believe Elysium is a place  
But feigned unless it be in her embrace▪  
Where I could ever rest, thence never part  
Would Eglentina 
Eglentina.  send me back my heart,  
Yet such sweet chains of love she binds it in,  
That should I think to lose, 'twould be a sin  
To great for Absolution, I must rest  
Until Dulcella 
Dulcella.  (not more fair then blessed)  
Please for to give release, in her it lies  
To make me hug my own dear perjuries;  
And yet she knows Ambrosia 
Ambrosia.  being by  
I can neglect her and her potency.  
Ambrosia can conduct my happy feet  
To Columbina 
Columbina.  (she that is more sweet  
Than natures perfum'd violet) he that knows  
Her sweetness, as I do, will say the Rose  
Breathes but contagion, yet Candora 
Candora.  shall  
Maintain though she be sweet, she has not all  
Kind nature did bestow, for in her breast  
Arabiahs, and the chaste Phoenix nest.  
Must I though lose Fidelia 
Fidelia.  and deny  
My faith to Anabella, 
Anabella.  let me dye  
When I remember not the sacred love  
'twixt me and my Musea; 
Musea.  The fond Dove  
Affects not like Lucella, 
Lucella.  they are all  
So fair, so sweet I know not which to call  
My best or happiest, for unhappy I,  
Must love but one of all, or by love dye;  
I'll leave all therefore, and myself incline  
To court Urania, 
Urania.  she's a love divine.   

A Gentleman's deploration for his Mistress, falling from Virtue.  
PAtience, inhabit humble souls; extend  
Thy passive power to those whose sorrows end;  
Mine are eternal, powerful, and immense;  
Such as may teach thee wrath fond Patience;  
Ixion's wheel is easy, and the stone  
Sissiphus rowles he doth but sleep upon,  
Compared to mine; The greatness of my wrongs  
Would want Oration, though an hundred tongues  
Guided by fluent Orators, should dare  
In thrifty speech but briefly to declare;  
They would destroy all Memories, all Sense,  
And drive all Language from Intelligence.  
Thou that art rich in sorrow▪ and canst swear  
Thou hast more than Mortality can bear.  
Attend, and give me audience, I will show  
Thy quaking sense what thou shalt fear to know;  
Thou wilt believe (if I at large declare)  
Sorrow hath ta'en her dwelling in thy Eare.  
And think thou mayst with lesser patience  
Endure thy wrongs, than give mine audience.  
Felina's fallen from virtue; she's acute  
In learned Levity, turned Prostitute.  
I loved her dear, while her eyes were pure,  
While she blushed innocent, and kissed to cure.  
When smiles were modest ensigns, while her breath,  
Carried more balm than poison, life then death;  
When she weeped honest grief; and I did see,  
Her Salutations were humility;  
Then was she perfect Virgin; then did I  
Contract my heart to this Idolatry.  
Her eyes do now look glorious, but to tell  
Unhappy man, the fairest way to Hell.  
She blushes now for guilt, smiles to do ill,  
Breathes but to poison, kisses but to kill;  
Weep's to ●●snare, salut's but to destroy,  
Flatters to craze, embraceth to betray;  
Betrays to get no profit, or renown,  
But falls herself, to pluck another down.  
Oh false Felina, must your beauty be  
Exposed to Incest, and Adultery.  
You are a Whore, and 'tis the choicest name  
That he will render, who first caused your shame;  
Sometimes you are his Mistress, when his lust  
Hath itching Fevers, and must take on trust,  
But having done he loathes ye, nay will swear,  
'tis you that made him turn Adulterer.  
Perhaps you'll then repent and think on me,  
(That only prized you for your purity)  
Resolve to be reserved, and never look  
Upon (that dangerous forbidden Book)  
Incontinence. Then doth another come,  
Who gives your penitence a Martyrdom,  
Whom you embrace with such an appetite,  
As if you had been kept from your delight  
An age of hours; you deities (that see  
Such shipwreck made of divine purity)  
Lend me your perfect patience, or I fear  
My sorrow will become my murderer,  
Release me of the contract that I vowed  
Unto Felina; Let her not be proud  
Of my undoing too, that I may bear  
My sorrows like a man, and let my care  
Be to admonish those that mean to wed,  
No path so full of danger man can tread,  
Let not frail beauty, (that's the road we pass;  
Be much adored; fair my Felina was.  
Let not your Mistress wealth or wit surprise,  
For fair Felina was both rich and wise.  
And let not blushes Lady's virtues tell,  
Felina was once chaste, and yet she fell.   

To his Mistress Philonella, being at her Looking-glass.  
MY sweetest Philonella, turn away  
From that Angelic figure, lest you pay  
An adoration to your shade; your eye  
May win an Hermit to Idolatry.  
Admit your soul be better guarded, know  
I have still cause for doubt, lest some rash vow  
(Made in an ●mrous ecstasy) should tie  
Yourself to your fair shade eternally,  
Which heaven defend, when you bring this to pass.  
Be kind you powers, translate me to her glass,  
That when the coral creatures come to give  
Their daily tribute to me, I may live  
The glory of a ●over, and enjoy  
More kisses than Adonis (Mirrha● boy)  
Oh but some danger will pursue this bliss  
Love is a feeding Fever, and each ●isse  
Creates another appetite, Alas  
I shall become your beauties burning glass.  
Sad lovers will relate, (should you expire)  
Narcissus died by water, you by fire,  
Both for one Amorous folly; yet (as he  
Is now a Flower) could you a Phoenix be,  
And I the sweet Arabian tree, so blessed  
With the rich treasure of your spicy nest;  
Most willingly I should desire the bliss,  
Of so divine a Metamorphosis.  
Apollo sure would leave his Daphnean tree,  
(With Lyric Airs) to keep us company.  
But these are fancies, leave your glass, I vow,  
You are to me a better Phoenix now.   

To Clora a farewell, once his coy Mistress.  
CLora farewell, you may be cruel now  
And keep the never-violated vow  
You made unto your goddess; I am free  
As the great Monarch, whose large Empery  
Contains a thousand Regions, I can sit  
Viewing your beauty, yet betray my wit  
Unto no greater folly; I can say  
Your cheeks are july Roses, and the day  
Borrows its radiant lustre from your eyes,  
And yet retain my own; I can be wise;  
I do disdain the power that made me turn  
Apostata to reason; and do burn  
With a devoute vexation, I should spend  
My precious time to such a thriftless end  
As to be your Admirer, therefore when  
You shall dispute the follies of youngmen,  
Let me entreat you, (though it raise your fame  
High as Diana's self) you will not name  
Me'mongst your captived servants, lest that I  
Ruin that fame, and you repenting dye.   

To Leda his coy Bride, on the Bridal Night.  

Why art thou coy (my Leda) art not mine:  
Hath not the holy Hymeneal twine  
Power to contract our Natures? must I be  
Still interposed with needless Modesty?  
What though my former passions made me vow  
You were an Angel; be a Mortal now.  
The bride-maides all are vanished, and the crew  
Of Virgin Ladies that ●id wait on you,  
Have left us to ourselves; as loath to be  
Injurious to our loves wished privawe.  
Come then undress; why blush you, prithee smile;  
Faith i'll disrobe ye, nay I will not spoil  
Your Necklace, or your ●orget; Here's a Pin  
Pricks you (fair Led●) 'twere a cruel sin  
Not to remove it; Oh how many gates  
Are to Elysium? (yet the sweetest Straits  
That e'er made voyage happy) here's a Lace  
Me thinks should stifle you; it doth embrace  
Your body too severely, take a knife,  
'tis tedious to undo it; By my life,  
It shall be cut. Let your Carnation gown  
Be pulled off (too) and next let me pull down  
This Rosy Petticoat; What is this cloud  
That keeps the day light from us, and's allowed  
More privilege than I? (Though it be white)  
'tis not the white I aim at (by this light)  
It shall go off (too) no? then let't alone,  
Come, let's to bed, why look you so? here's none  
sees you, but I; be quick or (by this hand)  
I'll lay you down myself; you make me stand  
Too longi'th cold; Why do you lie so far,  
I'll follow you, this distance shall not bar  
Your body from me; Oh, 'tis well, and now  
I'll let thy Virgin innocence know how  
Kings propagate young Princes, marriage beds  
Never destroy, but erect maidenheads:  
Fair Virgins, fairly wedded, but repair  
Declining beauty in a prosperous heir.   

Come then, le's kiss, let us embrace each other,  
Till we have found a babe, fair (like the mother.)  
Such face, breast's, waste, soft belly, such a— why  
Do you thrust back my hand so scornfully?  
You'll make me strive (I think) Led●, you ●now,  
I have a warrant for what ere I do,  
And can commit no trespass; therefore come  
Make me believe theirs no Elysium  
Stweeterthen these embraces— Now youare kind,  
(My gentle Leda) since you have resigned,  
I'll leave my talking (too) lovers grow mutes  
When Amrous Ladies grant such pr●tty suits.    

A Paradox on his Mistress, who is coal Black, Blind, Wrinkled, Crooked and Dumb.  

Which of thy virtues shall I first admire,  
(Rare piece of nature's wo●der?) O inspire  
My over-Amorous soul, ye Virgins nine  
That bless the fount of flowing Hippocrene:  
Create a fancy in me, that may fly  
Above the towering head of Rhapsody.  
Negra, thou art not fair; I cannot say  
The blushing morn (bright Herald to the day)  
Riseth in either Cheek; nor yet suppose  
The blameless Lily and chaste bashful Rose  
Have a contention there, for these (we know)  
Change with their seasons, they but bud, and blow,  
And then expire for ever; all their story  
Is at an end, when they begin their glory.   

But thou art Black, and therein lovely (too)  
Constant, as Fate, unto thy changeless Hue,  
(Like to thy inward soul) where we may find  
Thy face to be fit Emblem to thy mind,  
Constant in all chaste thoughts; and a black night  
Sometimes allows more pleasure, than the light  
Of a clear Summer morning, when we please  
To dedicate our wearied brains to ease  
On a soft Pillow; Marriage-beds allow  
The night for lovers actions and (we know)  
That, ere the seasons of the year decay,  
Night claim's as much of rule, as doth the Day.  
Thy Blackness 
Black.  is thy happiness; by thee  
The paint of white and red Adultery  
Can have no entertainment; all men's eyes  
May trust thy face, for it brooks no disguise;  
Thou needest no Scarves, no Black-bags here prevail,  
Thy face is both thy Beauty and thy Veil.   

Wert thou not blind 
Blind.  (some say) thou wouldst despair,  
For being so, thou thinkst thyself as fair  
As Helen was; but those are fools, and know  
No reason to allege, until I show  
The perfect truth; thou dost reserve thy eyes  
But to look inward, where true beauty lies.  
Thou look'st not on vain glory, idle toys  
That mock the sense, and are not real joys,  
But lights that lead to misery; In thee  
It is a virtue that thou canst not see.   

Some call the Wrinkled 
Wrinkled.  (Negra) and are bold  
To tell me that my Mistress is as old  
As twice my age, (Thus all seek to beguile  
Thy precious worth) each wrinkle is a smile,  
(Had they my eyes to see) Then, they would know  
(If they be smiles) why they continue so;  
I answered that those smiles are always shown,  
To tell thou still art friends with every one.   

So art thou termed crooked, 
Crooked.  cause they see  
Thee (like the figure of Humility)  
Still bending to the earth; but thou art wise  
And wilt salute all creatures (since thy eyes  
Deny thee to make choice) 'twere better be  
Always so bend, then lose humility.   

Then do they call thee Dumb, (alas) because  
Thou art not frequent in the talking laws  
Of idle women; must the cruel throng  
Of rank backbiters say thou hast no tongue?  
Admit thou hast not, 'tis not thy intent  
That thy chaste silence should give free consent  
To every motion; then they wonder what  
Thou movest thy head, or pointest thy fingers at,  
These were Enigmas to them, till I told,  
The meaning, and the Riddle did unfold,  
That none but they, who in thy thoughts abode,  
Can understand the virtue of thy nod.   

So, art thou none but mine; for only I,  
Retain the knowledge of that mystery,  
And I am thine, who (spite of envious mocks)  
Will marry thee— by way of Paradox;  
No otherwise (believe me Negra;) so  
I'll lie with thee, and beget children too.  
Thus you that marry ill, and live worse lives,  
(Like me) make Para-doxes of your wives.    

A Dialogue betwixt Castadorus and Arabellain bed.  Arabella. 
Dear Castadorus let me rise  
Aurora 'gins to jeer me.  
She tells me I do wantonise,  Castadorus. 

I prithee sweet lie near me.   

Let red Aurora smile my dear  
And Phoebus laughing follow,  
Thou only art Aurora here  
Let me be thy Apollo.   

It is to envy at our bliss  
That they do rise before us,  
Is there such hurt in this, or this;   Arabella. 
Nay fie, why Castadorus.  Castadorus. 
What, Arabella can one night  
Of loving dalliance tire ye?  
I could lie ever (if I might)  
One hour let me desire ye.  Arabella. 
Fie, fie, you hurt me, let me go  
If you so roughly use me,  
What can I say, or think of you;  
I prithee (Love) excuse me.  Castadorus. 
Thy beauty and my love defend  
I should ungently move thee,  
'tis kiss (sweet) that I intent,  
Is it not I that l●ve thee?  Arabella. 
I do confess it is, but then  
Since you do so importune,  
That I should once lie down again,  
Vouchsafe to draw the Curtain  
Aurora and Apollo (too)  
May visit silent fields,  
By my consent they ne'er shall know  
The bliss our pleasure yields.   

To his faithless Mistress Vxoria.  
WHere was I, when I called my mistress fair  
As the bright East (when clouds dispersed are  
To the vast North) how did I grossly err,  
When (rashly confident) I durst prefer  
Her virtue 'bove Diana's! when we met,  
Why did I think the coole-liped Violet  
Kissed not more chastely sweet, or did suppose  
Her cheeks begat a colour in the rose!  
But (worst of all) what madness Seized my sense  
When I conceived her craft, pure innocence!  
Ye men of happy souls, (I mean) that be  
Unblasted with the breath of perjury  
Proceeding from frail woman; keep ye so,  
Or you will find, earth cannot bear a foe  
So full of kill mischief; all that prove  
Embrace their ruin, and yet call it love.  
Oh in what Chaos did that Caitiff dwell,  
That taught the Age so good a word for Hell!  
Because your Mistress eyes starrelike appear,  
Will you blaspheming cry that Heaven's there?  
'tis melancholy madness, and I'll prove  
You are seduced by sorcery not love,  
Her heart is deep perdition; can her eye  
Retain one part of Heaven, Hell so nigh?  
I am experienced, read your Fate in me,  
Let Adam's tasting the excluded tree  
Work fear in you; good Angels tongues forbid  
That you should lose your Eden as we did.  
Women have subtle slights, they'll tell ye then,  
What Evah lost, Mary restored again,  
Producing all her virgin purity  
To be their honour, though impiety  
Distracted into Arrogance, and lust  
Engross their souls and bodies, yet they must  
In the black book of their lives fatal story  
Write for their own, the Virgin Maries glory:  
Such false Vxoria is, but if there be  
A woman Phoenix let her pardon me,  
She was excluded, when she knows my wrong,  
I know she'll be too just to blame my tongue,  
And thus conceive, what virtue can he find  
In any woman, hath his own unkind?   

To her perjured Love Maritus, her dishonorer.  
OH my undoing faith, now I repent  
My hope ere gave my charity consent  
To be thy love Maritus, couldst thou spy  
Within the Sphere of my transparent eye  
One Cupid loosely revel to invite  
Thy soul to so unchaste an appetite  
That for its satisfaction I must dye,  
Killed in my innocence by perjury?  
Oh false Maritus I have heard you tell  
That in my eyes two purer Cherub's dwell,  
Then those that guard Elysium; and my lip  
So chastely cool, that should a Lecher sip,  
He might convert to Angel; my hands touch  
To a more guilty person do as much.  
What wor●er thing are you, these virtues can  
Convert them Angels, and not you to man;  
Have you a soul? do you believe it must  
(When to some urn you have resigned your dust)  
Have any residence? do you not feel  
In your wide conscience, that Ixion's wheel  
The Poets paint for Moral, yet agree  
To take his torment as one worse than he?  
Repent, sigh, weep (Maritus) your wild youth  
Hath murdered innocence, and wounded truth  
Whilst I stand my own statue, and my eyes  
Write this in tears—  
HERE MY DEAD HONOUR LIES.   

A vow to his inestimable Mistress.  
BY the two Rosy blushes that did move  
In your chaste cheeks when I revealed my love,  
By those Favonian sighs whose gentle calm  
Perfumed the Air sweet, as judean balm,  
By those two Ruby Portals, that disclose  
Two Hemispheres of Pearl, contrived to pose  
The yet amazed beholder, by your eyes,  
Brighter to me then Titan when he flies  
Over Arabian mountains ere his heat ●  
Doth cause the toiling rural Negro sweat  
Under his spicy burden, by your hair,  
Which pardon sweetest if I term a snare  
To catch a Cupid in, and falling low  
Into your bosom where the banks of Poe  
Show nurseryes of Lilies, I protest  
With a chaste kiss upon your virgin breast  
(Love's sacred register of vows) in thee  
My love and life hath chose eternity;  
Yet take my countervow this zealous kiss  
I will be true— so Angels meet their bliss.   

A Dialogue between Icarus and surprised Phillida.  Phil. 
PRetty sweete-one look on me  
Feign I would thy captive be,  
Bound by thee is liberty.  Icar. 
Be not so unkindly wise  
For your looks will bribe my eyes  
To divulge where my heart lies.  Phil. 
If they do, thou needst not fear,  
By my innocence I swear,  
I'll but place another there.  Icar. 
That's my fear I dare not prove  
Nor my resolution move,  
'Cause I know you are in love.  Phil. 
Loved Icarus and if I be  
I know I cannot injure thee,  
Love and beauty will agree.  Ica. 
Oh you do my hearing wrong,  
I have turned my eyes thus long  
To be captived by your tongue.  Phil. 
Then my hours are happy spent,  
If my tongue give such content  
It shall be thy Instrument.  Ica. 
But be sure you use it then  
Thus unto no other men,  
Lest that I grow deaf again.   

Love's progress.  
Love is my honest character; I am  
The child of a fair mother, and I came  
From yon celestial Palace, to surround  
This universe, I did so, and have found  
My deity adored by all, I was  
Their only Genius▪ brought all acts to pass;  
I entered a great City where I spied  
A fourscore Bridegroom and a sixteen Bride,  
Going to Hymen's Temple, though her eye  
Looked but disdainful of his Gravity  
(She was compelled) I pitying the wrong  
Shot a sharp shaft, she loved, and he grew young;  
This was my first effectual work and then  
I met a venerable Citizen,  
A Usurer, well troubled with the strife  
Of worldly cares, and yet without a wife;  
I made him wed his maid, and break his store  
For pious uses, to maintain the poor.  
I interrupted (next) the serious Muse  
Of a sad Student, busy to peruse  
The hearts of minerals, who let gold fly  
To purchase glass, and practise Alchemy;  
I did infuse a Quintessence that made  
My wise Philosopher mistake his trade,  
Dazzled his fancy so, that he did spy  
Faces and lip● in his Philosophy;  
Sweet Roseate blushes, smiles, choice locks of hair,  
Soft fingers, and such eyes as women wear▪  
When all was perfected in every part  
A Lady was th' Elixir of his Art.  
Love is a Courtier (too) I went to Court,  
There did I see a general resort  
Of royal persons, Dukes, Earls, Lords and Knights;  
Each one his Lady, and most choice delights  
Ushering their pomp; the Virgin Ladies (too)  
Frequent that Senate, who prepare to do  
Their amrous rites to love; the youthful squires  
Neglect no office that may keep the fires  
Of Cupid ever burning; yet 'mongst these  
Diana had a vestal did displease  
My angry soul; she was a virgin fair  
As lovely Psyche; in her trameld hair  
Hung precious Diamonds, yet might you spy  
No lustre in them, cause her eyes were by,  
And to reveal her fully, I durst swear  
I h●d beheld another Venus there.  
This Lady was beloved adored and sought  
By a rich heir, (that as much virtue brought  
As she had beauty) in whose soul did move  
The divine graces, yet he was in love  
With this coy piece of Ladyship; but she  
Contemned as much, now note the destiny,  
I could not brook her humour, but did burn  
With hot vexation; which did sudden turn  
To royal madness, and in zealous rage  
I made him wed a Countess, she a Page.  
Thus did I traverse earth, and now am come  
To rest my tired limbs in Elysium.   

To his most excellent Mistress, Avis Booth.  
MElpomene, forget thou art a Muse  
Or in thy tragic brain a juice infuse  
May keep thee sleeping, let Thalia bring  
From green Parnassus, plenty of that spring  
Inspires our Laureate Lovers; could I praise  
Loved Avis to her worth, I might wear Bays  
Thrown from fair Daphne's arms bedewed with tears,  
For grief all others are her ravishers.  
Who but beholds her cheeks and not supposes  
December to be june, there live such Roses;  
Here would I rest, should I ascend her eyes,  
'tis feared my own would be their sacrifice;  
I'll leave particulars lest I should wrong  
Those that must ne'er enjoy her, if my tongue  
(Made eloquent by her) could but declare  
Each beauty fully, love and sad despair  
Would execute all hearers, there would be  
A civil war 'twixt faith and Piety;  
Since she'll breed ruin if I should discover  
I'll draw the Curtains close; but let no lover  
Compare his Mistress to her, lest that I  
Describe at large, and he by surfeit dye,  
Such virtue hath her beauty, for she is  
A Rara Avis, and my fair Mistress.   

A●hrostick to his Mistress.  
Sweet Soul of goodness, in whose Saintlike breast  
Virtue Vowe's dwelling, to make beauty blessed;  
Sure Sighing Cytherea sits, your eyes  
Are Altars whereon she might sacrifice;  
Now None will of the Paphean order be;  
nature's New work transcends a deity;  
Arabia's Aromatticks court your scent;  
Bright Beauty makes your gazer's eloquent,  
Let Little Cupid his lost eyes obtain  
(Veiled) Viewing you would strike him blind again;  
Nay Never think I flatter, If you be  
Thus To none else (by love) you are to me.   

A Gentleman desirous to have his Lady's Picture drawn, describes her thus.  
INgenious Artist teach thy Pencil how  
To paint a goddess, I would let thee know  
I have a Mistress thy admired Art  
Must limne like my description; do no● start  
If I command a work above thy skill  
And send thee once more to Parnassus' hill  
To hear Thalia's Lectures; have you seen  
The lovely feature of the Cypri●● Queen,  
Her cheeks resemble somewhat; though each Rose  
In here's seems plucked, and my Aurelia's grows;  
Yet they may pass; the Lillies that do stand  
Upon her breasts, tells you my Mistress hand  
Is pattern to their whiteness; let her eyes  
Not want that heavenly virtue to surprise  
Only my heart, let them be loved by none  
Whose glories are to captive every one.  
'tis only my ambition for to be  
Fit for my Mistress, and she fit for me.  
But to my first description; for those hairs  
Adorn her head, paint them Dia●a wears;  
And let her forehead not inferior be  
To that which shows great Juno's majesty,  
Let those two Rosy portals, that I call  
Her ruby lips, be but so magical  
As his her own, so sweet, so balmy made,  
Sure I shall leave the substance for the shade.  
If you think these Enigmas and that I  
Strive but to pose you with my Poetry;  
Making an argument you never saw  
Such goddesses feigned by Poetic law:  
I answer such divine powers you shall see  
Get but a Mistress, be in love (like me)   

Chaste Love sitting under a Grove of ●ong Bay-tre●s, is thus solicited by Lust.  Love. 

What? sighing Love, for shame arise  
Sat not crosse-armed, (by Venus' eyes)  
Thou dost thy passion Idolise.   

I'll bring thee to a Mistress, fair  
As Lillies when they first prepare  
To kiss the Amorous morning air;   

she's as active as desire,  
Her voice transcends the Mermaids choir;  
In each touch glowe's Cupid's fire.   

Corinthian wantoness whose rare merits  
Were in raising leaden spirits,  
My choice Mistress breast inherits.   

Cold Anchorites, (prepared to mourn  
Their past crimes) should they but turn  
Their eyes on her; would (gazing) burn;   

And in that scorching ecstasy  
Not desire to be set free,  
But wish to burn eternally.   

How can she but so surprise  
The chaste hearts of the most wise,  
Cupid's heaven is her eyes.   

Yet if yours whom you do keep  
Chary as your thoughts in sleep,  
For whom you nightly pray and weep,   

Be so fair, so kind, so loving,  
So attractive, sweet, and moving,  
Let me know her by your proving. 
Love.    Love. 

I have a Mistress chaster far,  
Then thine is fair, shall be a star,  
When she is in a Sepulchre.   

With the harmony divine  
Angels limbs with Angels twine,  
As does her white soul and mine.   

We can kiss without desire,  
Enjoy our sweets, and feel no fire  
To inflame, or yet expire.   

Divinity itself may see,  
In her souls fair Symmetry,  
What Religion ought to be.   

In her eyes an Anchorite may  
Make purer his Religious Clay,  
And to heaven tread the way.   

I am chaste Love, not confined  
To your feigned Archer blind,  
But adore a virtuous mind;   

And whoever will deny  
Sensual Lust, and do as I,  
Shall ever love, and never dye.    

What a Whore is.  
NAture's unhappy workmanship; if Fair  
So much the worse, all mischiefs doubled are:  
If Modest, there's a hell in her intent,  
She kills secure, when she seems innocent:  
If coy and nice, take heed, it is a slight,  
She useth but to strengthen Appetite:  
If witty, in her power more dangers lie,  
she'll give you Logic for Adultery,  
Prove lust legitimate; at last beguile  
Your easy sense with a deluding smile,  
More subtle than her Logic; in such ways  
She spends her precious near returning days.  
(The glory of her youth) And (which is worse)  
Had she Helena's beauty, yet the curse,  
Of Strumpets will attend her; sickness seizes  
Her overcharged body, and diseases,  
Will understand no Physic, but prepare  
Her limbs for earth, ere a repentant Prayer  
Can cherish her lost soul; Thus she defloure's  
Her living kindred and dead ancestors  
Of all their fertile fame, so buried lies,  
A pitiful example to the wise;  
But those whom she abused in life will laugh  
Her final fall, and curse an Epitaph.   

An abused Man: Quasi, a Cuccold.  
YE Gods that lend me Patience, tell me why  
My guiltless fame (pure as your Piety)  
Must suffer for its innocence; can fate  
For virtuous men such ills predestinate:  
Is't not enough you have confined my life  
To the loathed prison of an unchaste wife;  
Extinguished Hymen's Tapers, and bespread  
With ●we and Cypress my poor nuptial bed,  
But I must suffer the injurious wrong  
And Contumelic of each idiots tongue,  
Take the reproach of him (perhaps) that thrives  
In his warm Plush by nought else but his wives  
(Thrice bought) adultery, yet such as he  
Must on my Patience brand his Calumny:  
Teach wiser men, and such as know the price  
Of a chaste wife, It is a Paradise  
All candid souls enjoy not if they do●,  
Ye are unjust, my merits claim one (too)  
But I repent my rage, conceive again  
The reason why you punish virtuous men;  
To make it in their suffering appear  
They must attend, their heaven is not here;  
Yet tell my rude abusers only this,  
Not my unkindness causeth her amiss,  
Nor is it poverty my torment brings,  
For such as mine may be the fate of Kings.   

Lust loseth all.  
LVst (The hot mother of unchaste desires,  
●lacke spotted s●avers and destroying fires)  
I must take breath to curse ye, for I see  
My ruin will be perfected by thee.  
Why do men call thee love, when as no hate  
Retaines a Plague, makes man more desperate:  
Thou robbest him of all honour, mak'st his name  
Become the only title of a shame;  
Oh may thy fawning falsehood ne'er have rest  
Within the confines of a noble breast.  
All the choice virtues, that I ere could boast  
My soul enjoyed, 
The losses.  insatiate lust hath lost:  
Religion 
Religion.  bid me first farewell, for I  
Behold no beauty in Divinity;  
Then wisdom 
Wisdom.  left the mansion of my mind  
To folly's trust (who never was inclined  
Unto chaste laws) I did not wisdom miss,  
Wealth can obtain a lustful Mistress:  
But soon as wisdom from my soul did slide,  
Reason 
Reason.  removed and bade me seek a guide,  
Which thus I did, my present fancy flies  
Unto the daylight of my Mistress eyes,  
Which being darkened by divine decrce,  
I lost my way, and was as blind as she:  
But when Religion, Wisdom, Reason went,  
Faith 
Faith.  left me (too) and with a firm consent  
Her sister Hope 
Hope, and Charity.  did follow, both agree  
To heaven to transport kind charity;  
Love 
Love.  lost his labour in me, for unjust  
I did convert his civil laws to lust.  
Honour 
Honor.  declined, saying it is not right  
Man should be servant to his appetite:  
Manhood 
Manhood.  exiled himself and would not own  
Me nor my acts▪ I was all Woman grown.  
Who thinks I am no loser? who will say  
he's not undone that hath no more to p●ay?  
Let no man then expose his life and fame  
He must needs lose, the devils in the game;  
He that buys pleasure at so dear a price  
Obtaines an apple to lose Paradise.   

A Dialogue betwixt Adversus and his Mistress the Lady Contra.  Adver. 
Fair Contra, in the bosom of yond shade  
Remains a soft repose, by nature made  
To give your beauty welcome, 'tis a Bow●r  
Solicited by every fragrant Flower  
Nursed in this Rosy Province, shall I crave  
I may conduct you to it, (sweet) I have  
A gentle story to reveal, so dear  
Unto myself, that none but your chaste ear  
May hear the petty volume, be but pleased  
To sit and hear and my desire is eased.  Contra. 
You will not kill my patience or betray  
My ears to some loose fancy, from what Play  
Have you traduced your story? is it new,  
Decently delectable, strange and true?  
What title hath your story? may it be  
Herd without tears? comes it off merrily?  Adver. 
'tis called a Game at Hearts, both strange and new;  
The losers win if both the hearts play true.  Con. 
This is a riddle sure, some fine defeat,  
You have composed to give my wit the cheat.  Adver. 
There is a man— that's I— his heart doth vow  
Unto a virtuous Lady— that is you.  
Be not offended fairest, this is all  
The story I can tell or ever shall,  
I love you; love you dear, in your eye  
Lives my devotion, there's a deity  
So powerful, that is calls my early eyes  
From practic Prayer to give it sacrifice.  
I love you chastely, my divine desire  
Aims but at honoured marriage, all the fire  
Love (the great king of passions) did create  
Within my breast, is as immaculate,  
Temprate and pure as the bright flame that flies  
In zeal from an accepted sacrifice.  Con. 
Is this your stories end? is your game done?  
Where be your losing winners? who hath won?  Adver● 
The heart that never played, play then and be  
A double winner, i'll lose all to thee.  Co●. 
Indeed I cannot love, or if I do,  
Credit me Sir, I cannot fancy you,  
You are to full of passion, if you can  
Exile it from you and turn merry man,  
You may obtain my favour, but if not  
Your game is done, your story quite forgot●  Ad●er. 
Oh the blind cu●se of lovers it doth make  
Man become Idiot for his mistress sake,  
But I disdain the task and let you know  
(Your superficial fayre-one) that I bow  
Not to the feature of your female kind,  
But to a breast enriched with a fair mind;  
If yours be so, I love you, but if not,  
My love (like to my story) is forgot:  
Must I become a Zane, laugh and toy,  
Your ever-losing favour to enjoy;  
Doth your wise Ladyship conceit it fit,  
I should implore the virtue of your wit  
With idle mirth, reserved for want on guests,  
Or must I plead my marriage love in jests?  
'tis a severe conjunction that do●h tie  
Two souls in one unto eternity,  
And requires serious wisdom, such as may  
Keep the knot tied more than the marriage day;  
Perhaps you are engaged, your heart doth dwell  
Within another's, love him then— farewell. 
Contra Sola.   Contra Sola. 
Thus Virgin's sport away their loves, thus I  
Have at one blast lost more felicity  
Than many Queens can boast, some pitying fate  
Contrive a means I may be fortunate  
In his loved love again, Oh be so kind  
To render me the object of his mind;  
If your strict Canons this request deny,  
And that your sentence tells me I must dye  
For my transgression, I no mourners crave,  
But let some Zane laugh me to my grave;  
No Epitaph be writ nor yet a stone  
With this Inscription, here lies buried One,  
Lest my lost Love should come, and when he spies  
My Sepulchre with pity lose his eyes.   

Rara Avis in terris nigroque Similima Cigno.  
Fly, fly my nimble Genius round about  
The peopled world, find me this Riddle out,  
There is much doubt in't, to the City fly  
Amongst the Female Beauties, where each eye  
Begets a gazing admiration; there  
Choose me a young Wench that doth know she's fair,  
Who in Thought, Word, and Deed is chaste, and yet  
Hath been thrice tempted by Wealth, Worth and Wit.  
In the same City do the best you can  
By narrow search, to spy me out a Man  
Wedded to Female follies, yet shall be  
The City's Lord Major for his Gravity.  
Repair to Court, you shall a Lady see  
Decked like Aurora in choice Bravery,  
Win her from those delights, see if you can  
Persuade her Ladyship turn Pur●tan.  
Perchance she hath a husband, one that is  
Of youthful mettle, can Da●ce, Sing, and Kis●●  
Court amorous Ladies, is completely fair,  
That owes to Art for a large crispy hair.  
Produce him (too) he with the rest may pass  
If he did ne'er behold a Lookingglass,  
Take Cart and to the Country go with speed,  
Where C●●wnes, Cow●s, Calves, Sheep, and fat Oxen feed,  
Persuade some great Corn-master, that hath been  
A Grand Offender in the thriving Sin  
Of Transportation; only to refrain  
That thrifty course, and give his Country Graine,  
Bid his Old wife for sake her Country tongue,  
And trade in Compliment, tell her she's young;  
If you can make her leave her Country jig,  
Shave off her Hair and wear a Periwig,  
Bring her, and all the rest, I dare say than  
I have as Rare a Bird, as your black Swan.   

To his Mistress Elizabeth Brooke.  
ELizabeth inspire me, than I shall  
Write nought Obscene, but Beauty, Virtue all.  
There was a Queen of whom Fame's tongue can tell  
Called Virtue Servant, she did all Excel,  
Durst call themselves Elizabeth; to me,  
Me thinks you keep her still in Memory,  
Did I not think you chaste, as is the Snow  
Girt in Diana's girdle, fair one know  
I could not court you, though your beauty might  
Play the fair thief, and steal me at first sight,  
I should affect no longer than I gazed:  
Beauty and Virtue both make Souls amazed  
Be you my Brook, my shadow, and I vow  
Like fond Narcissus to kiss none but you,  
And in that crystal Rivulet, your Eye  
Bury my Sight, my Self— 'tis life to dye.   

A Dialogue betwixt Fidelius and his Silent Mistress Flora.  Fide. 
MY dearest Flora can you love me.  Flo. 
Prithee prove me.  Fide. 
Shall I have your hand to kiss.  Flo. 
Yes, yes.  Fide. 
On this whiteness let me swear.  Flo. 
No pray forbear.  Fide. 
I love you dearer than my eyes.  Flo. 
Be wise.  Fide. 
I prise no happiness like you.  Flo. 
Will you be True.  Fide. 
As is the Turtle to her Mate.  Flo. 
I hate.  Fide. 
Who my Divinest Flora, me.  Flo. 
No, flattery.  Fide. 
He that flatters, may he dye.  Flo. 
Perpetually.  Fide. 
And his black Urn be the cell.  Flo. 
Where furies dwell.  Fide. 
May his Name be blasphemous.  Flo. 
To us.  Fide. 
His Memory for ever Rot.  Flo. 
And be forgot.  Fide. 
Lest it keep our age and youth.  Flo. 
From Love and Truth.  Fide. 
Thus upon your Virgin hand.  Flo. 
Your Vows shall stand.  Fide. 
This kiss confirms my Act and Deed.  Flo. 
You may exceed.  Fide. 
Your Hand, your Lip, I'll vow on both  Flo. 
A dangerous oath.  Fide. 
My Resolution ne'er shall start,  Flo. 
You have my heart.   

A Lady's Complaint for the loss of her Love Theodorus.  
LEnd me thy Arrows Cupid, teach me how  
To wear thy Quiver and to bend thy Bow,  
Show me that Shaft in which a Power doth lie  
To make man chastely Love eternally;  
I have my eyes fair Boy with which I'll find  
The mark that thou wilt miss, 'las, thou art blind,  
I See too much, and wish I could not see,  
Less I had power my bondage for to free  
Or bind another; Theodorus then  
Should be my honoured Prisoner once again,  
Did I appear so worthless, is my face  
So poorly barren of the Female Grace  
Which Courts our Amorous youth, that I must be  
The Subject of a man's Inconstancy,  
What though there be no Cupids in my Eyes,  
Placed to make Erring Love idolatrise,  
What though the Roses in my Cheeks do faint,  
And I disdain with an Adulterate paint  
To Add a Sinful Beauty, my chaste mind  
Shall cast a lustre when all eyes are blind,  
That might have made my Theodorus Love  
With divine Loyalty, and constant prove,  
For Love that's only fixed in fair Eyes  
And fading Colours, with their downfall dies  
Believe me Theodorus, I divine,  
(Though thou art gone, and the sad loss is mine)  
Thou wilt not be a winner; Oh take heed  
Women are gilded follies, that exceed  
A glutton's Riot, Men do oft refuse  
(For Beauty's sake) though they unchastly choose,  
If they be beauteously fair, can that  
Secure their Minds from Thoughts adulterate,  
And should they lose their Honour, can they then  
With all their Beauties fetch it back again,  
But be your own adviser, let not me  
Discourage your opinion, but be free  
In your new choice; if my wish take effect,  
You never shall repent you did neglect  
My courser Fortunes; if your Mistress be  
An Angel in your eyes, she's so to me,  
Envye is still my Enemy; although  
I loved you fond, I must have you know  
'Twas very chastely (too) and (without Wonder)  
Hearts may contract when Bodies are asunder.  
Yet love your Mistress, and be truly zealous,  
I can Affect, yet never make her jealous.   

A Moral Eclogue presented by Virtue, Wealth, and Beauty.  Wealth 
Come hither Beauty, what sad dump hath got  
The upper hand of thy choice thoughts, what blot  
Hath overcome thy Beauty; thou art sad,  
Thoughts discontented and concealed, make mad  
The serious Contemplator, then declare,  
I'm a Physician, tell me what they are.  Beauty 
Insatiate Wealth, I will; I come to crave  
Along-lost Servant, you unjustly have,  
And such a Servant none ere had but ●●hee  
Whom jove embraced) Cadmean Semele,  
Though Nature make all men that mortal are  
All of one mould, she can but claim a share  
In this great Master piece; ere he was fit  
Twelve Natures did in consultation sit,  
Had he but lived when the Egyptian Queen  
(Fair Cleopatra) Reigned, to have been seen,  
By her in her high court, sure none but he  
Had exchanged places with Mark Anthony;  
Or Helen viewed him, ere she went from Greece,  
No Wars had been, he could have kept the Peace.  Wealth 
Is this your cause of Grief, admit I have  
This honourable Servant which you crave,  
I am the worthier Mistress, what's in you  
But a fair face, Riches doth me endue,  
What will your Beauty, do wh●n 〈◊〉 shall  
Deal cruelly, and let your states both fall,  
Beg with your Beauty, can your Beauty then  
Contrive a means to raise you up again.  
But stay, yonder comes virtue; do but see  
How poor she goes, yet she's as nice as thee.  Vertus 
Health to you Ladies; Beauty, unto you  
My message comes; I have a Servant true,  
Corrupted by your eyes, till he did see  
Your ●aining Smiles he was content with me;  
Pray give him back again: my mourning state  
Directs the Turtle that hath lost her Mate  
To beat her feathered bosom, Grief and I  
Are in contention for the Majesty  
Of perfect sorrow, and we find that none  
Have such true grief as those whose Love's are gone;  
Such is my state, fair Lady, do not then  
Detain my Love, but send him home again.  Bea●. 
What Love do I detain, what Servant, where  
Did I subdue him, what's his Character?  Virtue 
When first I did behold him, I could spy  
The simple Soul of Candid Majesty  
Take state in either cheek; for his defence,  
He never Blushed, but to show Innocence:  
When he did court me, a sweet Passion strove  
To tell me, that he lived in perfect love,  
I saw he did, and yet am bold to tell,  
He might have wrought Faith in an Infidel,  
He had Exterior Beauty; (too) his eyes  
Had lustre from his inward Purities.  
They were a Frontispiece to all the good  
His Soul possessed; greater in Grace then blood;  
His name is Bellizarus, let me have  
His person (too) 'tis all the bliss I crave.  Wealth 
That is my Love coy Virtue.  Beau. 
Which I claim.  Virtue 
But is my due.  Wealth 
Oh ye both lose your Aim,  
He hath a wealthy Fortune, shall it be  
Exposed to the certain jeopardy  
Of Beauty or poor Virtue; let him thrive  
In my esteems, Wealth keeps the heart alive.  
I'll show him Ours of Treasure, which shall buy  
Pleasures, that may persuade Mortality  
Into a Godhead; I'll a Palace build  
Of chequered Marble, whose large roof shall yield  
Unparalleled delights; a thousand boys  
(Fair as Adonis) with melodious noise  
Of new found Timbrils, shall awake his Sense  
From sullen sadness (with profuse expense,)  
I'll purchase curious diet, whose choice taste  
Shall create Odours in his Breath, I'll waste  
My (unknown) Treasure to a Mite, that he  
May hate you both, and keep his Love with me.  Beauty 
You argue weakly for him; in my Eye,  
A Lover's Amorous Passion can descry  
Ten thousand fairer boys, young Cupid's all,  
And with my voice (at his commanding call)  
I'll warble various fancies, that shall make  
His heart; cold Melancholy quite forsake  
This Ruby Lip being connexed with his,  
Shall be more pleasing than that Nectar is  
jove doth revive his Youth with; for his Scent,  
My breath is sweeter than that Continent  
The Phoenix keeps her nest in when she burns  
In Aromats', and a New Phoenix turns.  
These but a model of the pleasures be  
He shall enjoy, let him return to me.  Virtue. 
If he be true, no argument should make  
His honest soul his first chaste love forsake,  
Then (were he yours and I by strife should win)  
How could I be a virtue but a sin:  
Fond women, know i'll teach him how to climb  
Beyond your hopes, to treasures more sublime;  
I'll show him how to be content with that  
Would make you sorrow sick and desperate:  
Fortune can wound you wealth, & (beauty) know  
The sweetest Roses that do fairest blow,  
Will shatter into ruin; you must fear  
Beauty will fade, Springs last not all the year:  
You talk of Boys and Cupids, I can see  
Through the pure cristalls of divinity:  
A heaven set with Angels, of whose glory  
No mortals pen could ere write perfect story,  
And to this joy i'll bring him, if he be  
So wise to cast you off and live with me.  Wealth. 
Yet he is mine, and if the God of love  
Look pleasing (as he did) I then will move  
My next suit unto Hymen, and we'll be  
jointly contracted by his Deity:  
Do not you rail then, nor you try your heart,  
I have possession that's the greater part.  Virtue. 
I must return to sorrow, weep, and wail  
For his lost soul.  Beauty. 
I to revenge, and rail.  
Use your own counsel, when your rayling's past  
Go mourn with virtue and your beauty blast.   

The complaint of an old Lady for the loss of her beauty.  
A Ge (Beauties tyrant) why dost thou,  
furrow my brow;  
With what poison hast thou made,  
My Lilies fade;  
What strange colour is this hair  
That I wear;  
Oh for love's sake take't away,  
'tis to grey;  
In my cheeks no Roses grow,  
Bud or blow;  
But are gone, for ever gone,  
Every one;  
In my eyes no Cupid's dance  
To advance  
The bravery of Appetite  
To delight;  
I to Venus' shrine will go  
With my woe,  
And declare unto her all  
My beauties fall;  
There complain that crooked Age  
Full of rage,  
Hath for ever banished  
White and red;  
So perhaps I may obtain  
Allagaine.  
And disgraceful Age expel  
To her Cell;  
But if not, most sure I shall  
Ruined fall;  
For when beauty is away  
All's but Clay,  
Fickle feature grows but brave  
For a Grave,  
Where the beauty most replete  
Worms will eat.  
Go then Beauty be not seen  
But in Virgin's at sixteen,  
When they are as old as I  
Let their Beauty fading die,  
'tis an age for to decline  
To our graves, not Venus' shrine.   

A Gentleman deploring his former follies.  
REason I do salute thy brightness, thou  
Expellsts the mist of error; from thy brow  
A radiant Beam is shot into my s●ule,  
By which I have discovered how soul  
My former follies made me; it is thee  
That mak'st poor Man become a monarchy:  
Hadst thou been with me when the greedy grape  
Engrossed my senses, and committed Rape  
Upon my understanding, I might be  
Less in Arrearage for Ebriety.  
Had I enjoyed thy company when I  
(Infla●●'d with feaver-burning luxury)  
Ruined a Lady's fame, she had been pure  
And kept her may den innocence secure;  
I had been happy, for my tainted name  
Had been an honest Character, no shame,  
Had I employed thy council (when my wrath)  
Aided by envy trod a guilty path  
Unto my friends confusion, but because  
He was not regular in Bacchus' laws,  
My spleen had be more temperate, for I  
Had conquered rashness by sobriety.  
Hadst thou been present when my ruder tongue  
Calumnious●y did do my Mistress wrong,  
Who chastely loved when I did boldly say,  
She was my loser creature to allay  
Lascivious desires; that she would do  
What (heaven) knows) I here saduced her to,  
Thou hadst corrected the egregious ill,  
And I had lived her honoured servant still.  
Hadst thou been pleased ever to lend thy store  
Of saving help, such follies on my score  
Had ne'er been written, 'tis not yet too late  
For devoute penitence to expiate;  
Be my Adjutor, Reason 'tis in thee  
That I will seek man's mediocrity.    

ELEGIAC POEMS.  

An Elegy on his Inestimable friend, Mr. Richard Gunnell, Gent.  
Go sell your smiles for weeping, change your mirth  
For mourning dirges, lave the precious earth  
Of my inestimable friend with tears  
(Fertile as them the cheek of April wears,  
When Flora propagates her blessing on  
Th' approaching Daffodils) under this stone  
Lies his neglected ashes, Oh that they  
Who knew his virtues best should let his Clay  
Lie unregarded so, and not appear  
With a full sorrow, in each eye a tear  
Once, daily o'er his urn, how can they think  
A pleasing thought, sit and securely drink  
Insatiate carouses; these are they  
Can lose both friends and sorrows in one day  
(Not worth my observation) let me turn  
Again to my sad duty, where i'll mourn  
Till my corporeal essence do become  
A gliding rivulet; and pay the sum  
To thy dear memory; my stream shall lend  
A drop to none les he hath lost a friend:  
The melancholy madman that will prove  
His passion for his Mistress is but love,  
Were best be thrifty in his tears, for I  
Will not supply him though his mistress; die;  
My ford is thine dear Gunnell and for thee  
My Crystal Channel flows so currently,  
Tagus and great Pactolus may be proud  
Of their red sands, let me my Rivers shroud  
In course Meanders, where the waters shall  
In a grieved murmur, Gunnell, Gunnell, call,  
It is for thee I flow, for thee I glide,  
I had retained my floods hadst thou not died.  
And little water birds shall chant this theme,  
Thy jordan mourner is a jordan stream.   

An Epitaph on his kind friend, Mr. john Honiman, Gent.  
THou that couldst never weep, and knowst not why  
Tears should be spent but in man's infancy,  
Come and repent thy error for here lies  
A Theme for Angels to write Elegies,  
Had they the loss as we have; such a one  
As nature killed for his perfection,  
And when she sends those virtues back again  
His stock shall serve for twenty virtuous men.  
In April died this April to find May  
In Paradise, or celebrate a day  
With some celestial creature, had he been  
Designed for other than a Cherubin;  
Earth would have gave him choice; he was a man  
So sweetly good, that he who wisely can  
Describe at large, must such another be,  
Or court no Muses but Divinity.  
Here will I rest, for fear the Readers eyes  
Upon his urn become a Sacrifice.   

An Elegy on Mr. john Raven, Gent.  
NO sooner did sad Rumour wound my ears  
With thy decease, but Myriad of tears  
Sprung in my fluent eyes, I sighed, Oh me  
Is Raven dead, why could the fatal THREE  
Not give some dispensation for a man  
Deserved the years of Nestor; I began  
Much to invoke the destinies, but they  
Gave me no answer, sure they do obey  
Some greater power, whose immense sovereignty  
Admits no Inquisition How or Why;  
(The curse of frailty) we but see to choose,  
Choose to enjoy, ere we enjoy we lose:  
So is thy life to us, what if thou be  
Enthroned a Monarch for thy piety,  
Our loss is still the same, we lose our prize,  
Because we cannot see thee with these eyes,  
We do not doubt thy welfare (dearest friend)  
But do believe thy meritorious end  
Hath won eternity, and yet indeed  
We cannot choose but grieve, tears will excced  
Though they allow no cause, for if thou be  
So truly happy as divinity  
Declares the blessed transmigration, than  
'twere sinful grief to wish thee here again:  
Thy death is my instruction, and thy bliss  
The subject of my contemplation is.  
Heaven inspire thy merit into me,  
And I shall dye, to deserve life with thee.   

An Elegy on his beloved friend Mr. Charles Rider Student in the Art of Limning, or Picture-drawing.  
IF you can weep, draw near▪ but if your eyes  
Deny to yield a liquid 〈◊〉  
Laughter perplex ye, may you never be  
Worthy to be preserved in memory  
But amongst 〈…〉 such as know  
No season for their ●irth, 〈◊〉 will allow  
Their idle jests, and their more antic slights  
On Funerals as well as Bridal nights.  
Here (you that have the magazine of tears)  
Exhaust your thrifty fountains, he that wears  
Black with an honest sorrow I advise  
To aid us in our (too sad) obsequies.  
There is an Artist dead, who is't that can  
Deny 〈…〉 be friend of every man  
That makes wi●e use of knowdedg, 〈◊〉 was rare  
In limning 〈…〉 his chaste care  
Could ne'er permit his 〈◊〉 to incline  
To the rude 〈◊〉 of lustful 〈◊〉  
But h●d his eyes beheld the 〈…〉  
P●sture & face, 〈…〉  
(Pure as he● simple Beauty such a one  
Was pattern for his Pencil, or else none,  
To be particular, I should 〈◊〉  
Foe to my 〈…〉  
But what my 〈…〉  
Expect in 〈…〉  
His virtues are too many for to be  
Composed in a weeping Elegy:  
But he is dead, that all-devouring death  
That scorns to give religious Monarches breathe  
An hour beyond his limits, hath thought fit  
To use his power on thee; may thy soul sit  
In Angel's habitations, while we  
Deplore thy death, and bless 〈◊〉 memory.  
Since thou wert merit 〈◊〉 I crave  
That I may stick this 〈◊〉 on thy grave,  
Where if the 〈◊〉 heavens please to raise  
Showers like my tears, 'twill grow a 〈◊〉  
〈…〉  
She did 〈…〉  
None but thy 〈…〉  
For there 〈…〉  
Eclipsed each 〈◊〉, making midday, night▪  
Black night, worse waters, may ye ever be  
Used to make beauty black, so cursed by me;  
May never discontents of 〈◊〉 life  
In greefe-afflicted bosoms, if their eyes  
Banish you thence, for when your floods are spent,  
There shall not be a cause for discontent:  
Rest peaceably (sweet boy) though to us dead,  
jove shall for thee exchange his Ganemed.   

An Elegy and Epitaph on his Mistress Fidelia.  
PAtience the great Physician of the mind  
Hath lost his Art, for no balm can he find  
To give me cure, there is no Patience left,  
It is a virtue which the gfd, bereft.  
With my Fidelia, and since she is gone  
What good is left me, but distraction;  
Yet in her name I do a virtue find.  
Charms all my senses, tells my raging mind  
She hath but left the earth for 〈◊〉 to try  
What throne the Gossip prepare for she and I.  
Which having done, I then shall hear from her  
By that supreme commanding Harbinger,  
That summons Princes; Qureenes, religious, Kings  
To cast off earth and put on 〈◊〉 〈◊〉▪  
My soul thus 〈…〉  
I'll wait, and write thus on her mo●●ment.   

The Epitaph.  

In, this Marble, buried l●es  
Beauty, may enrich the skies,  
And add light to Phoebus' eyes.   

Sweeter than Aurora's air  
When she paints the Lillies fair,  
And gilds Cowslips with her hair;   

Chaster than the virgin Spring,  
Ere her blossoms she doth bring,  
Or cause Philomel to sing.   

If such goodness buy 'mongst men  
Bring me to it, I know than  
She is come from 〈◊〉 again,   

But if not, ye standards by  
Cherish me, and say that I  
Am the next designed to dye.    

An 〈…〉 his Mistress Arbella.  
Ye are too quick, ye pioneers of death  
To execute your charge, I have yet breath  
Struggles within my labouring breast, to come  
And sigh and hasty Epicedium  
On my Arbella; Oh what stupid sleep  
Ceazes your faculties, you do not weep  
Yourselves to restless rivolers; my eyes  
Must act alone Arbella's obsequies;  
Do you want common sense, how can you hear  
Arbella named (dead named) and shed no tear;  
Know you not how to weep, pray look on me,  
Methinks each man should be a Niobe,  
〈…〉  
〈…〉  
〈…〉  
〈…〉  
〈…〉  
〈…〉  
They will pollute her beauty, 〈◊〉 them have  
A wealthy banquet in some 〈◊〉 grave●  
Yet they may stay, for if 〈…〉  
Her beauteous cheeks, they 〈◊〉 by famine dye,  
〈…〉  
〈…〉  
〈…〉  
〈…〉  
〈…〉  
〈…〉  
FINIS▪