THE ACADEMY OF PLEASURE. Furnished with all kinds of complemental Letters, Discourses, and Dialogues; with variety of new Songs, sonnets, and witty Inventions. Teaching all sorts of Men, Maids, Widows, &c. to Speak and Write wittily, and to bear themselves gracefully for the attaining of their desired ends: how to discourse and demean themselves at Feasts and merry-Meetings at home and abroad, in the company of friends or strangers. How to Retort, Quibble, Jest or Joke, and to return an ingenious Answer upon any occasion whatsoever. Also, A Dictionary of all the hard English words expounded. With a poetical Dictionary. With other Conceits very pleasant and delightful, never before extant.  
LONDON, Printed for John Stafford at Fleet-bridge, and will. Gilbertson in Giltspur-street. 1656.   

The Academy of Pleasure.  
The first Book.  

A Letter of Courtship to 〈◊〉 maid.  
Beauteous Virgin,  
THose that believe Cupid to be blind, are (undoubtedly) blind of all their senses; he could never aim his Darts so right, nor his so sure if he were not clear-sighted as an Eagle. The last time I saw you he took his stand in your fair eyes, and thence directed an Arrow to my hair, which is now because but one flaming lamp of Love: a Love (bright Virgin) as unstained as thy virtues, and as immaculate as the soul of expiring Martyrs; what plea, then, could you find should you be summoned to Venu; bar; if your cruelty bereave him of life, who has no longer to live than your goodness shall grant him a being; since, then, your smiles are my heaven, and your frowns my hell, and that you are my Fats, 
* and 〈◊〉 or destroy 〈◊〉  and can damn or save me, let me know my Doom, that I may prepare myself either bliss or Torture; better to fall once, than be ever falling; send me my Sentence (dear Mistress) as sperdily as may be, since the worst that can happen will be the highest happiness,  
Which is to die, Your Martyr.   

SONG I. The languishing Lover. [Tune is, When Love with unconfined wings.]  

1.  
WHen first my eyes perused thy parts,  
(Thou best of womankind)  
Love drew his bow and thriled his darts,  
Into my wounded mind.   

The cruel Archer emptied all  
His Quiver in my breast,  
And now does triumph in my fall,  
While I lie slain jest.   

2.  
I burn in immaterial fire  
Such as the Ghosts below  
Do bathe in, yet do ne'er expire;  
Come Thames, or silver Poe,   

And quench these never-sading gleams  
That scorch my panting heart,  
Or else receive me to your streams,  
That Life and Love may part.    

A complemental Discourse between a young Man and a maid the first time of their meeting.  He. 
SWeet Lady, I was never happy till this minute, nor ever had cause to think myself one of fortune's Favourites till now; when I have the felicity to behold a beauty so matchless as yours. If the word [Stranger] do not fortify your breast with flint, I shall have hope that the humble prostration of a loyal loving heart will not hang clouds on that heavenly face.  She. 
I Perceive (Sir) you are well skilled in Courtship, and know how to rank and file your compliments; but I wonder what you should see in me that might encourage you to so hold a confidence to talk of Love and Loyalty; You have not known me (Sir.)  He. 
No Lady; I have lived bitherto in a dark corner of the world, my Hemisphere has enjoyed no Sun; some duskish false and foolish fires I have seen, but now I behold the true Venus in her full brightness: you may (perhaps) censure of Vanity, and rank me with these that take a pride to manifest what Masters of Wit they are, while they glut the ears of their Auditors with oily Phrases, and varnished Discourses; but could you behold my heart, you would there find a reality equal to any of the Ages past, when Love was not linked to sinister ends.  She. 
SIR, you might be pleased to preserve your Courtship for Her, you either are, or may be mo●e intimate with, than you are ever like to be with me; You much mistake my temper (Sir.) I must have ample experience of that man; virtue, whom I afford so much as a look: there are those (no doubt) that will be proud to receive your Rhetorical Addresses; but myself am of a clean contrary inclination, who if I cannot beg your silence, as to discourses of this nature, shall be compelled to quit your company.   

SONG II. The Wanton.  
[Tune is, Fair ●idelia tempt no more]  

1.  
STay, (my dear Eliza) stay,  
Aurora yet has not ushered in the day,  
Lie still my dearest,  
What is't thou fearest?  
Let's kiss, and take our fill of Venus' play:  
Hark; what 〈◊〉 do greet our ears?  
(While the Doves  
Sigh our Loves)  
'tis the music of the spheres:  
Then let's mingle souls,  
And mount above the Poles,  
Those active swee●s  
Between the shee●s,  
Loves highest fame enrolls.   

2.  
This great world must peopled be,  
And therefore Mayd● do sin most monstrously;  
Hang tedious wo●ng,  
He must be doing  
That means to boast a numerous Progeny.  
Come then (Dearest) let's advance,  
Never fear  
This career  
Will either break or split my lance;  
Sweet, this is no more  
Than thy mother did before,  
Love's sacred Rices  
Require these nights  
Forty times o'er and o'er.   

3.  
While we thus in love combine,  
(I the stout Oalre, and thou the tender Vine)  
See where the graces  
Smile in our faces,  
And hand in hand in 〈◊〉 ●●rr●●●o join.  
Jove, I do not envy thee,  
While I sip  
From her lip  
Nect●● far more brisk and free,  
Than that which hums thy head,  
Filled out by Ga●y●ed,  
In her all pleasures,  
And all treasures  
Are summed and centred.    

A quaint Jeer.  
SIR,  
THose cleathes fit you as well as if they were made for you; sure you can conjure, and have the Devil for your tailor: you could never have such a peculiar elegancy of habit else, a method that no man in Town is master of, your spruce finified self excepted, you do not use to starch your beard (Sir) do you?  

The Retort.  
Troth Sir,  
THese poor ornaments found creation, as the world did, when it lay like a lump; I spoke but the word and all was fitted to my hand; but to tell you the fashioner's name. I confess I cannot, only by circumstances, (I mean, comparing his person with yours) I guess him to be that very thing that got you, you are his very picture I'll assure you Sir, and may pass for the same slack-sinewed tailor were your hair more grey, and clothes more gaudy.    


A wanton Letter to a witty Gentlewoman, desiring her company such a day at such a place.  
LADY,  
I Know I have made myself but the Ladder that your wit must mount upon by this address, but I shall beseech you (for credit of your own clemency) to whip me only with Rods and not with Scorpions: I have had experience of the tartness of your temper, and do perfectly know that six more such as yourself are able to jeer a horse to death but I shall hope my business will not deserve your anger while I only beg your company tomorrow at two after Noon at Mr. G●imes his house, where Tom Shallow and myself are resolved to sacrifice as much Sack as would turn a Mill, to Mirth and Beauty; you must be our Venus, the Oblation will not off else: your incomparable beauty must irradiate the Templ where we mean to Tipple, our Devotion will be as cold as Scythian Ice else. Thus humbly and earnestly begging that you would not fail, I kiss your lily hands, and remain,  
Your eternal Servant:   

The Answer.  
SIR,  
YOu are excellently well skilled in Metaphors I perceive, a shrewd Similist believe me, to compare yourself to a Ladder; do you think I shall ever take the hangman's Trade out of his hands, and throw men off the Ladder for thirteenpence-halfpenies? but had your wit a visible body, I am confident it were more easy to strangle a Cat at Tyburn, than to rob that lithe light thing of life with a Rope; do you think that I use to string my whips with Scorpions upon such trivial occasions? a be●some of birch will be sufficient to sweep away Legions of such Lapwings as those, who travailed with their Tenements upon their heads. Six such as myself you say are able to jeer a Horse to death; but I must tell you, you are but an ass for saying so: for my conversation never extended to a Dialogue with a Dromedary. What a beastly Quibble was this? to come to the matter, you will sacrifice as much Sack as would turn a Mill. Oh rare! You mean that Windemill in your brain, which would be of no use if it were a Watermill: for there is not so much moisture in that pitiful pan of thine as would b●d●w a clout: You beg that I will afford you my company to morrow, two after Noon, and you prattle of Temples, Oblations, and Irradiations; will you never leave your Eloquence till the Carre-men curse you; but I shall be with you, if it be but for Mr. Shallows sake,  
Till when and ever Yours verily.    

SONG III. A Dialogue between two Lovers. [Tune is, Phil Porters Rant]  He. 

1.  
Why dearest Moll, art thou so coy?  
Why dost thou fly my love?  
Fie, fie! a maidenhead is but a toy,  
As thou wilt shortly prove:  
Come then my Darling,  
Cease further parling,  
We spend the time in vain;  
Accept that duty  
I owe thy beauty,  
Over and o'er again.   She. 

2.  
OFie upon dissembling men!  
That will cog, and swear, and lie  
Till they attain their ends; but then  
Bid the lass they loved God b'uy:  
Ere she's a mother  
They're for another,  
Never true to one;  
Therefore I'll take care  
Who has my were,  
And all allurements sh in.   He. 

3.  
What though some perjured knave (my Dear)  
Has sacred Love abused,  
Shall he that doth most truly swear  
For his sake be accused:  
By all things binding,  
And worth the minding,  
By thy beauty bright,  
(With words unfeigned,  
And thoughts unstained)  
Thou art my soul's delight.   She. 

4.  
Here, then, we'll knit those holy bands  
That join two hearts in one,  
God Cupid's self doth guide our bands,  
No more I'll lie alone:  
Thou (Sweet) shall sway me,  
I will obey thee  
Till Death shall drive us hence:  
Then (in our shrouds)  
we'll meet i'th' clouds,  
And new-found joys commence.    

A Flout. Directed to a maid, or Widow, more proud than proper, and more coy than comely.  
fair Lady, methinks you are not Mistress of so much beauty as might make you proud; a Gentlewoman of gingerbread (for aught I know) may make a better Bedfellow; what are good clothes when the face is wanting, but like small beer in a silver goblet; a mere Mercers Lucifer, but not a Rag of nature's Wardrobe about you.  

Her Retort.  
SIR,  
YOu are a strange Gentleman, and something desperate to talk thus to one you know not; my name was never yet served up at Ordinaries, nor belched abroad in Taverns by any such Roister as you seem to be; I should think myself the most unhappy of all my sex, if there were any thing in me that might merit the respect of such a satire as yourself.    

SONG IV.  
[Tune is, There were three Cheaters.]  

1.  
COme Francelia, come away,  
Why do we waste so bright a day?  
Let's make haste to yonder grove,  
There I'll give th' earnest of my love,  
On a bed of daisies thee I'll throw,  
Every pretty Virgin should do so.   

2.  
Then we'll sit and sport a while,  
And with tal● the time beguile,  
Till bright Sol begin to shrink  
As if he meant the Sea to drink:  
Then unto Is●ngton we'll go,  
Every pretty Virgin should do so.   

3.  
There with cares and cream we'll feast,  
While my Host does break a Jest.  
Nut-brown Ale that cures the weak,  
And can compel a Cat to speak:  
There will we laugh, and kiss, and woo,  
Every pretty Virgin should do so.   

4.  
And when the envious Night comes on  
Over the Fields we will be gone,  
There I'll give thee as we pass  
A Gown as green as is the grass,  
For which thou shalt owe me a kiss or two,  
Every pretty Virgin should do so.   

5.  
Then towards London (though't be late)  
we'll come and view thy father's gate,  
Where (Oh sad Face!) that I must leave thee,  
Thy father's servants will receive thee:  
But we shall meet again I trow,  
Every pretty Virgin should do so.   

6.  
Thus having parted with my Sweet,  
I like a shadow pass the street;  
For why? my soul is left with thee,  
Keep it (Francelia) charily:  
Or fix it fast on Cupid's Bow,  
Every pretty Virgin should do so.    

The Lover Courts the maid to mediate for him to her Mistress.  Lover. 
SWeet Sarah, I know your kindness can excuse my boldness, especially when you have put on, this Toy upon your finger; nay, by Venus, you shall not refuse it: I know you hold your Mistress in your power, you are her counsellor, and she puts not a Flea to death without your privity: will you indeer me to her esteem, and procure me such addresses as may be fit and opportune? you know my meaning.  Maid. 
TRuly (though you may not know it) I have already mentioned your praises, and with some vehemency; may, and which is more, she lends a listening ear to all that she hears concerning you; I could tell you something. Sir, that would rejoice you: let it suffice, she never hears your name but her colour comes and goes; to my knowledge, she has a good opinion of your person and your parts.  Lover. 
But is it possible (my dear Sarah) that we may converse by star or moonlight?  Maid. 
I dare promise you, Sir, but meaning no harm Sir.  Lover. 
Do but accomplish what thou hast spoken, and command me, though to the loss of fame, of treasures, and of life; nay, chain me as thy slave. So farewell sweet Sarah.  Maid. 
Your faithful Servant, Sir.   

SONG V. A Dialogue between two Lovers.  
[Tune is, Fain I would if I could, &c.]  He. 

1.  
I Would ●ain  
Once again  
Fold thee in my arms,  
Why shouldst thou shun  
What we have done,  
Ere now on equal terms?  
Can love that's grounded die?  
Why art thou then so shy?  
Come, prithee let me try,  
And put on all thy charms.   She. 

2.  
While you were  
My only Dear,  
I cared for none but you;  
'tis your own fault  
Has made the halt,  
You false, shall I prove true?  
You first did break the Truce  
By offering Love abuse,  
Nor can you find excuse,  
Therefore (good Sir) adieu.   He. 

3.  
Did never none  
But I alone  
Su●●y Loves snowy vest?  
You'll find there's more  
By many a score,  
Like me, have sinned in jest,  
You only I prefer,  
Although 〈◊〉 ●urted her;  
Your name, alone, I wear,  
Lodged in a loyal breast.   She. 

4.  
Custom and art  
Has taught your heart  
How to dissemble finely,  
Your every thought  
Is worse than nought,  
Yet you can prate divinely,  
But I'll believe no more,  
One perjured ore and o'er:  
Go, get you to your W●—  
Sleep on in sin, supinely.   He. 

5.  
By all that can  
Oblige a man,  
I swear (my dearest Dear)  
My future love  
Shall fully prove,  
I move in virtues sphere.  
I loathe what I have done,  
And shall such Sirens shun  
Thou all my heart hast won,  
And shalt sit Regent there.   She. 

6.  
The love that I  
Did really  
Profess to you of late,  
So sways my sense  
I want a Fence  
To keep out Love and Fate.  
Look down ye heavenly powers  
On this new league of ours  
From your immortal Towers—  
— Let's kiss and supplicate.    


A Letter from some gentleman's Creature, to a poor (but beauteous) Gentlewoman, &c.  
Fair Mistress,  
THough I am not so wise to know how you will palliate my proposal, yet probability bids me believe you will not be angry with him that has projected a way for your profit: I saw you in a place the other day, and could not but pity you; and withal, curse these squint eyed Times; that expose so much beauty as you are Mistress of to so extreme penury: I know you do not go so poor on purpose to manifeft your modefty, so that by you I perceive that glorious births (such as I am confident yours is) are made infamous by rags, and base births are made glorious by gorgeous apparel: if you shall please to harken to my advice. I shall prescribe you a way how to become the Mistress of a better fortune than at present you are, I have a Master Squire D. by name, that will make you his Danae, and court you, like another Jupiter in a golden shower, provided you will but ●old up your lap to receive it: do not five hundred in this town think you (though with worse faces than yours) do worse than this? no woman that bears a brave mind will refuse any thing that is good. Virtue (i● this Age of ours) will not feed you; or ●loathe you. Thus desiring your serious and sudden Answer by this Bearer, I commit you to your pro●table thoughts, and remain  
Your devoted Servant.   

The Answer.  
Sir,  
BUt that I would not bring my own name in question, I would proclaim to the world what a five persuasive Pimp you are; but Sir, you ought to know that I had rather lodge under a poor thatched Roose with honesty, than under carved ceilings as a Prostitute: I know the price of Ills too well, and what th●●● confusions are in whom they inhabit; how soon Women are won to their ruin, and for a minute's pleasure eternally undo themselves; though I am poor my honour is precious, and it is a Devils consequent, that because we are wanting, therefore we must be wicked. I cannot be carried away with a cast of manchets, a bottle of wine, and a custard: no, nor with a satin gown. music, coaches, and midnight revels: you have a leprous soul whoever you are, and deserve the gallows more than a murderer, but I shall remember your name and trade and tell the world accordingly. So wishing you a more honest heart, together with a more manly employment, I commit you to your crimes,  
And am, &c.    

One Friend ingratiates another into the acquaintance of a third, &c.  1. Friend. 
Sir,  
Let me prefer this Gentleman unto your knowledge, he will deserve your notice.  2. Friend. 
I Thank you dear Sir, no friend of your choice can deserve less.  1. Friend. 
Sir,  
I shall thank you for any friendship shown to him, 〈◊〉 if it were done to myself.  2. Friend. 
You may command me any thing. Sir, your humble servant: give me your hand. It is not my manner to use much Courtship▪ but I will proise to be friend you in all things that are in my power, and perform it too, Sir.  3. Friend. 
Sir,  
I Shall be happy to call myself, Your humblest Creature: your kind proffer claims a just power over my belief.   

SONG VI. The willing Prisoner. [Tune is, Bow Bells.]  

1.  

When first my heart  
Felt Cupid's dart,  
I ftrove (but all in vain) its force to break;  
The blind God laughed  
And sent a shaft  
To second tother, thinking 'twas too weak;  
Then to earth I sell,  
All mortals bow to mighty love, & his most po●ent spell.   

Now am I the victor's prize,  
Being shickelled with gold-crisped wires,  
A slave unto two sunlike eyes  
Burnt up with invisible fires.  
At once I am bound, and yet free too.  
Mortal and immortal at once;  
I'm healthy and sound to see to,  
Yet sickness has seized my bones.    

2.  

Oh gentle God  
Take off thy rod,  
I yield, and row to serve thee all my days;  
Temples He build,  
And offerings yield,  
Penning peculiar Hymns unto thy praise;  
But be pleased great power  
To send one Arrow tipped with gold from thy fair mother's bower   

That may wound my Amadine,  
Who's deaf unto all my laments,  
Pierce her heart like unto mine  
Until the stern goddess relents:  
So shall I sing thv glory,  
And mention thy praises each day,  
While those that do hear my story  
Shall stoop to thy sovereign sway.    

3.  

Why Cupid, why  
Dust: how not try  
To tempt some Poet to restore thy eyes?  
And with thy nature  
To stretch thy statute,  
Who art the strongest of the Deities.  
Has not Jove by thee  
Been thrown from heaven to earth to court mortality?   

To behold thee Phoehm turns  
His coach in his fullest career;  
Neptune in the water burns,  
And Pluto is wounded with fear:  
All creatures do cringe to thy Quiver,  
Beasts, Birds, and what Theris contains,  
Who art the Olympical Driver;  
No mortal can fly from thy trains.    

4.  

Then let us twine  
Sweet Amadine,  
Platonic Lovers we at first will seem,  
But when that dies  
we'll wantonise,  
'Tis active love alone, that's worth esteem:  
we'll contract our bliss  
Those other sweets that should wait on the tincture of a kiss.   

Then shall either's joys increase,  
Renewing their youth with the day,  
When my flames thou shalt appease,  
And take this hot humour away.  
Then like to Saints expiring  
we'll breathe our souls in each other,  
And having gained strength by retiring,  
I'll make thee (my dearest) a Mother.     


To a rival.  
A complemental, yet threatening Letter.  
SIR,  
CAnnot your friend purchase a little fire to thaw his appetite by but must you that have been daily singed in the flame, be as greedy to beguile him of it: how can this appear other than a piece of malice? if I endure this, you may ear— bore me for your slave, but you shall find my temper not so tam● as (perhaps) you imagine; for, since you neither savour of good breeding, nor bringing up, I am resolved to slice your hamstrings but I will make you show mannerly; my fire is not so hot that I need a screen before it, 'tis but newly kindled; yet if it were risen to a flame, I should not suffer my best friend to stand before me: You are an intelligent man, and I need say no more, but that I am,  
(If you 〈◊〉 fie) Your true Friend.   

The Answer.  
SIR,  
I Am sorry that you will needs engross Hell to yourself; Heaven forbid that you should not suffer a stranger to come in, the Devil himself is not so unmannerly: You think now, that I will beg an office there before you, and keep you out. Now God forgive you for your huge mistake. I am none of those guilded flies that will light upon such strange flesh; I may use Courtship, or so, but dare not thrust my hand into another man's fire: I have no mind to surfeit away my name and state in swinish riots, sleep away my youth, and awake a grey-bearded Beggar. Take your Toy to yourself (Sir) never doubt that I shall attempt to supplant you, not but that if I had a will I durst stand your fury were you armed with thunder, and could manage an oak like a bulrush. Thus Sir, I hope I have given you a plenary satisfaction as to your Scolopendra, you shall find me upon all scores at your own appointment either for sincere friendship, or utter enmity,  
And always, &c.    

A short Courtship. A Dialogue between two Lovers.  She. 
TRuly Sir, you think yourself much a Master of my modesty, you would never give me such continual cause to blush else; I could find courage (I am confident) to chide you for it, but that I would not administer any cause that might justify your departure from me. Where I have hope my prayers and innocence shall detain you till the full consummation of our loves.  He. 
I confess I have more of Mars than Minerva in me, I never sucked the air of France, and therefore you must not expect fine language from me; yet I can tell you (with truth for warrant) that he that hopes for better felicity in the other world, than what I enjoy in your blessed society, must fast, pray, and live very severely to attain it.  She. 
Sir,  
I perceive that you willingly mistake, you make me proud with your similitude, but whilst that I gain by it, your inference is at a loss; but this is because you know you have as great a privilege to injure me as to abuse yourself.  He. 
Shall I be heard then when I speak, and be listened unto cheerfully, that so I may recover my sick hopes by degrees?  She. 
I know you cannot lose your virtue (Sir) and then you may assure yourself my courtesies will never fail; if I should promise you more, yourself would deem me too p●●digall of that which in nobleness you cannot rec●ive.   

SONG VII. The forsaken Lover.  
[Tune is, Frankin 〈◊〉 ●●ed away]  

1.  
SInce than thy vows (false maid)  
Are blown to air,  
And my poor heart betrayed  
to sad despair;  
Within some wilderness  
I will my griefs exp●●sse,  
And thy false-heartedness,  
On cruel fair!   

2.  
Have I not graved thy love  
On ev●● tree  
In yonder verdant Grove,  
Though false to me:  
Was not a solemn oath  
Plighted betw●xt us both?  
Thou thy faith, and I my troth,  
Real to be.   

3.  
Some gloomy nook I'll find,  
Some baleful Glade  
Where neither ●u● nor wind  
Ere entrance made:  
There will I curse that Fate  
Gave me so false a Mate,  
Then thou'l● repent too late  
(D●s●oyall maid.)   

4.  
Wild fruits I'll make my meat,  
And drink the spring,  
The earth shall be my seat,  
For covering,  
I'll have the scarry-sky  
My corpse to cancpie,  
Till my soul from me fly  
To heaven's King.   

5.  
No Grave do I desire,  
Or Obsequies,  
No Groans or funeral fire,  
No marry eyes:  
The courteous redbreast, ●e  
With leaves will cover me,  
And sing my ●legie  
In Ru●hfull wise.   

6.  
But when I soulless am  
I'll visit thee,  
Thou most obdurate Dame,  
Whose cruelty  
Has slain the truest heart,  
Ere pierced by Cupid's dart,  
Not Death my love shall part,  
Nor Destiny.    

A Letter from one crafty Citizen to another concerning a fine busin●sse.  
Mr. L.  
I Have a task worthy the pregnancy of your spirit, an exercise for your pointed wits (wondrous in a Citizen) to work upon; give me a man that even out of his recreations can cull advantages, that dives into seasons, and never walks but thinks of something tending to his profit: know than I but lately made a journey into Sussex, where I perused a fair Lordship belonging to one Mr. G. his Father, but newly dead, and himself now in Town, and come on purpose hither to learn the fashions of London; he is already become acquainted with some Hectors of note, resorts to Gaming as well as Bawdy-Houses: this young N●vice lately bought some cloth of me, and my Wife being in the shop he took an occasion to court her, and finding (as I had strictly enjoined her) that he was not scorned, but rather courted both by herself and me, he every day visits my house, and I think will one day drown us all with good Sherry, in reward whereof, I am resolved to murder his Estate, and sti●●● his Right; there are means and ways enough to hook in such Gentry: you shall come acquainted with him, and while he is busy about my Wife, I will be as busy about his Lands.  

To be a Cuckold is but for one life,  
When Land remains to me, my Heir●, or Wife.   
I will ingratiate you into his company, take sure notice of him, he is fresh and free, shift yourself speedily int●●he shape of a Gallant, I'll swell your purse with Angels, keep foot by foot with him, outdare his expenses, flatter Dice and brothel to him, give him a sweet taste of sensuality, train him to every wasteful sin that he may quickly need health, but especially money. Ravish him with a Dame or two, be his Bawd for once. I will be your● forever. Come to me anon in the Evening when we will confer together about this weighty business, till when and ever  
Yours all over, &c.   

Exquisite Nonsense.  
LIke to a Church with thirty Chimneys in't  
Or like the entrails of a Cabbage Min●  
Or like a child born both with Teeth and Beard  
Or like the green-blew Garter of a Lord  
Or like a maid with child that ne'er knew Man  
Or like the dancing of a Dripping-pan  
Or like a Man that Sings without a Tongue  
Or like two Adamants together clung  
Such, such is he that never had a Mother  
Ye● boasts two Sisters and a younger Brother.   
He. 
Dear Mistress,  
WHy will you loss so much time? those lilies and Roses that Nature has planted in your blooming Cheek will one day fade and wither, your odour and your precious Colour must yield to time.  She. 
THe loss will not be much mourned for Sir, since it will very hardly be discerned.  He. 
Sweetest, you remove your understanding a great distance from my words, and make that of no use which tends to persuade you to a present enjoyment of this pleasant treasure, while it lasts; why are you still enclosed like an anchoress, and why doth your nicety bar your chamber door, when if the Priest were but paid for a few ceremonious words, I might be licenced to your bed and your bosom too.  She. 
Our marriage Sir, may promise all you can imagine, but till than you must give me leave not to admit of such opportunities, as may give breath to ill reports.  He. 
Nay, be not angry (my Dearest) nor censure any thing I have spoken with an unkind belief; hear but my vows.  She. 
Not now Sir, you have a greater power to raise my sorrow than my choler.  He. 
Yet please to remember, that I have your heart, by a sacred plight, our wedding day is not now far off.  She. 
I shall never find the way to break my faith, but till that hour you talk of is come, I shall desire that our converse may be more remote; you know how liable Lovers are to the lash of lewd tongues.   

A compliment. One taking acquaintance of another, as his friend's friend.  1 Gent. 
I am bold to salute you Sir, you know not Mr. S.  2 Gent. 
Yes indeed Sir, most entirely well; he is a Gentleman I am much obliged to for many favours: He is second to my bosom.  1 Gent. 
I shall keep Christmas with him, where your Health shall undoubtedly be remembered: I would sue for your name Sir.  2 Gent. 
Your suit shall and in one Term Sir, my name is B.  1 Gent. 
Kind Mr. B. your dear acquaintance, I must needs present you with a glass of sack.  2 Gent. 
Sir, Your servant; I shall retalliate your love.   

SONG VIII. The contemplative Lover.  
[Tune is, She lay all naked in her bed.]  

1.  
UPon her couch Marina lay,  
A thousand Cupid's by her,  
Like newfallen snow melting away  
While I stood wondering nigh her;   

The balmy incense of her breath  
Unto the roof ascended,  
Able to drive away grim Death  
With all his Train attended.   

2.  
Her flesh more pure, more white, more soft  
Than skins of Etmins are,  
Before by surly Hunters caught  
In a delusive snare;   

Chacte as the rare Arabian Bird  
That wants a Sex to woo,  
O grief for which I want a word,  
She ne'er yet learned to do.   

3.  
O that, that ice at length would melt  
That friezes up her veins,  
That as she's seen she might be felt,  
And knew-Lovers pains:   

Poor pottage Flowers shut up their leaves  
When Sol drives to the West,  
But Roses the Night-Dew receive,  
As that which pleases best.   

4.  
O open those celestial eyes  
That do enlighten mine,  
Yet stay, their splendour will surprise,  
And scoreth me with their shine:   

Her fragrant breath doth claim that power  
By odoriferous art,  
It will transform me to a Flower  
Fashioned like a Heart.    

A Friend comforts a Widow, who weeps for the death of her Husband.  Friend. 
Save you sweet Widow, I suffer for your heaviness.  Widow. 
O Sir, I have lost the dearest Husband that ever woman did enjoy.  Friend. 
Yet let me tell you Widow, if all tongues speak truth he did not use you so well as a man ought.  Widow. 
Nay, that's true indeed, he never used me so well as a woman might have been used, that's certain. Introth it has been our greatest falling out, and though it be the part of a Widow to show herself a woman for her husband's death, yet when I remember all his unkindness. I cannot weep a stroke, and therefore wisely did a great Widow in this Land comfort up another: Go too (quoth she) leave blubbering, thou thinkest upon thy husband's good parts when thou sheedest tears, do but remember how often he has lain from thee, and how many haughty sl●ppery turns he has done thee, and thou wilt never weep for him I warrant th●e. You would not think how this counsel ●as wrought upon me, so that I cannot spend one tear now if you would give me never so much.  Friend. 
Why I count you the wiser Widow, it shows you have discretion, when you can check your passion; Farewell sweet Widow, may your threshold gr●an with the weight of approaching Lovers like Hops or Harlots.  Widow. 
How do you mean? why do you couple them?  Friend. 
O very aptly, for as the Hop well boiled will make a man not stand upon his legs, so the Harlot in time will leave a man no legs to stand upon.  Widow. 
You are a merry Gentleman; will you please to walk in and take what a Widows solitary Mansion shall exhibit.  Friend. 
Not now Widow: I must into London with all speed: another time I will come and dwell with you for two hours, so farewell blyth● Widow.  Widow. 
Adieu sweet Sir.   


A Letter from a smug Youth to a lively lass.  
Sweet Thomazin,  
IF your favour do not pay my ransom, I vow I must continue a Captive till death, though one comfort will be (in case you deny your aid) my life will be of no lasting d●te, your looks have wounded me, and will kill me if Quarter be not given; but you are no Amazonian Lady to put ●n steely arms and manage the sword and shield, though your head be hi●den in a cambric helmet, and therefore I shall hope that the softness of your ●oule will not suffer you to become my murderess: you are my Venus, make me your Anchy●es, my soul's life and light. I protest by all things sacred that my love to you is of such ardency, that men that are newly listed in some black conspiracy that are in despair, or (which is worst of all) in want, do enjoy more quiet sleeps than I do. Your Idea is always before me; to multiply your praises I know would rather win your anger than your applause, though I would say (with immaculate truth for warrant) that you are fairer than Hebe, wiser than Pallas, and more continent than Penelope, it is my unhappiness to know that a creature o● such exquisite perfection live, and yet not to know whether my loyal service may find acceptation; you are the true Venus, (Lady) make me your Priest, the office will become me. However (dear cherubin) let me not fail of an Answer by this Bearer since I can live no longer than you shall allow me to call myself,  
Your voted Votary.   

Her Answer.  
Sir,  
THe little experience I have hither to had of you commands me to esteem you no less than a friend to virtue, but you do ill to talk so passionately, and think so coolly, you men can play the Proteu●●●at pleasure, and (with the Chameli●n) thange yourselves according to the colour you look on, be (seeming) Reallists here, and palpable Dissemblers in another place; this day deveut Amori●●●, to morrow sullen Stoics; yet will I thank you for that love you make me believe you bear towards me, and what ever your heart is I shall not blush to tell you that I dare meet your love half way, provided it be honourable, and not glued to sinisler cogitations: this Sir, you may believe and accordingly determine of me, who am  
Yours in all civil respects, &c.    

Two Lovers compliment at parting.  He. 
LEt me contain thee in my arms yet a little longer.  She. 
I Would stay, dearest G but you know what a severe hand my Father holds over me, if he should know we were together, it were as much as my liberty is worth.  He. 
How sad and dismal does the farewell of true lover's sound, why should my Destinies deny me thy enjoyment, when shall we meet again?  She. 
To morrow night at Mistress C. her house, I'll steal forth in the Evening, my absence will be but short, consider that, which will make our next meeting the more sweet and musical.  He. 
Thou precious Darling of my heart; do not we two part like Birds, who when they see that the Sun forsakes the world, lay their little pensive heads beneath their wings, as if they would ease that weight which is added to their grief by his departure?  She. 
But when they see that bright perpetual traveller to return, they start up and sing their gratitude—— fail not to morrow night.  He. 
Bid me to shun poison, or not to refuse heaven were a Messenger sent from thence on purpose to proffer it me, one kiss and then farewell.   

SONG ix.. The Ravished Lover.  
[Tune is,] Tell me ye wandering spirits of the air.  

1.  
TEll me ye Angels of the highest sphere,  
Have you not seen my fair Larissa there?  
Has not great Jove to make his bli●se more great  
Ravished my Love unto his starry seat?  
If that a brighter than his Spouse you see,  
Or Venus' self, or Venus' self believe it, that is she:   

2.  
Search from the East unto the weeping West,  
And plunder Flora of her flowery vest,  
Search Rhea's store, and Thet●s wealthy womb,  
Ravish the Web from off Arachnes loom,  
If you one fairer far than Cynthia see,  
O●Hebe's self, or Hebe's self believe it, that is she.   

3.  
When she was born old Satur's mighty Son  
Summoned the Gods, who met him every one,  
Meaning to make a new Pan●or●, he  
Himself thus spoke to every deity;  
Bestow (quoth he) on this ra●e silver Dove,  
Each something that may make her more than Queen of Love   

4.  
This said, winged Mercury bestowed his wit,  
Phoebus his skill, choice Songs and Odes to fit,  
Venus resigned her beauties ('gainst her will)  
But Pa●●as freely did her sweets instill;  
Ju●o her state, and Jove to crown them all,  
Confirmed, confirmed her the sole glory of this earthly Ball.   

5.  
Let then no rude, profane, or 〈…〉  
Dare seize that Temple where her Altars stand  

† drowned in the sea.  Lest that he 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 what A●●x found of ●ore,  
When he disgraced Minerv●'s sac●ed Lore,  
Her power is equal, if not far beyond,  
She can both heaven, she can both heaven and earth, and seas command.   

6.  
Let none be Priest unto thy hallowed Shrine,  
But I (dear goddess) hug no Love but mine,  
So shall thy name not fear the teeth of Time,  
Thy lasting Fame being guarded by my rhyme.  
And when together unto heaven we go,  
There but one quarter, there but one quarter, thou shalt find it so.    

James an Apprentice, with Jane his Master's Daughter in the dark.  Jane. 
I swear James I will wake my Father and Mother if you offer these ru●e tricks; I wonder how the candle went out.  James. 
Sweet Mistress Jane, be not angry, I scorn to offer you any incivility but I hope you will not be angry if I say I love you.  Jane. 
Love me little and love me long, you are short of your time James; four years yet to serve, think on that James.  James. 
I could serve four hundred years methinks had I but hope to win your love at last, the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 of you dispels all sad thoughts 〈…〉, and I am as free as the air I breathe in, while I can frequently gaze on that celestial face of yours.  Jane. 
You have an English Expositor in your box James, and therefore I do not wonder that you talk so fluently: besides, you write Verses now and then, I liked those wondrous well that you made of our boar-Cat that fell into the House-ofoffice.  James. 
I made one copy to day at the request of a new married man, you know him I am sure Mistress Jane, T. S. the milliner by the Stocks.  Jane. 
Let me hear them good James, he that puts a snaffle of Verses into my mouth may lead me 〈◊〉 where he list, I mean still in the way of honesty James.  James. 
I know that Mistress Jane, the Verses are these:  

A modest Wife is such a jewel,  
Every Goldsmith cannot show it;  
He that's honest and not cruel  
Is the likeliest man to owe i●.   
How do you like them Mistress Jane?  Jane. 
Now by my maidenhead exceeding well; God bodykins we are undone: my Father knocks I swear.  James. 
One kiss dear Mistress Jane.  Jane. 
Take half a dozen but make no delay, you know my Father is a hasty man.   


A Letter to a Friend, desiring he would enter into Bond with him.  
My noble friend,  
THe cordial love which upon all occasions you have manifested, obliges me to think, that I shall not find you backward in a business that so much concerns me: my occasions at this time are unspeakably pressing, so that if I do not procure an hundred pounds by to morrow this time, my credit will receive a mortal wound, and my reputation be stabbed to the heart, you are a man whose estimation (and that worthily) is high in the hearts of all men, and whose very word were sufficient (though I should not suffer it did you preffer it) without bond or obligation to furnish me with such a sum, I shall only desire your name with mine, and may Hell take me if I fail in the premises, thus begging your positive Answer by this Bearer, I rest and remain,  
Yours infinitely obliged.   

The Answer.  
Worthy friend,  
YOu were pleased to mention a matter in your last Epistle, which I protest by all things sacred I would not meddle withal were it for the Redemption of my Heir out of the Turks Galleys, enter into bond; I would as soon (with Empedocles) leap into Aetna, mark but this Note and you will not much blame my averseness; he that enters into Bond ought to imagine he Christens a child, and takes the Charge of it too: for as the one the bigger it grows the more cost it requires, so the other the longer it lies the more charge it puts you to, only here is the difference, a child must be broke and a Bond must not; the more you break Children the more you keep them under, but the more you break Bonds the more they leap in your face, and therefore to conclude, I would never undertake to be Gossip to that Bond which I would not see well brought up.  

For 'tis a truth, come better days or worse,  
So many Bonds ab●oad, so many Boys at nurse.   
Therefore sweet friend excuse me; any thing but this; a small sum (either to lend or give you) is at your service, but this I neither can nor dare, so wishing you all felicity. I assure you that I am  
Yours unfeignedly.    

SONG X. The conceited Lover.  
[Tune is, Honours but air, &c. vulgarly, New the Tyrant has stolen, etc]  

1.  
COme my Clarissa  
Why art thou so shy?  
Why hast thou that face,  
That foot and that thigh,  
But to do as thy Mother  
When she willingly lay,  
While thy Father did discover  
Loves beaten road way.   

2.  
That beauty by Nature  
Was never ordained  
To be g●z'd at with wonder,  
Bag to be obtained  
A p●x of the feeble  
Platonical way,  
Which none that were able  
Did ever obey.   

3.  
To fit and to simper  
Like soap-suds (in sooth)  
Does argue nor wisdom,  
Nor beauty, nor youth.  
To kiss the fair forehead,  
And sometimes the cheek,  
To me is most horrid  
That would do and not speak.   

4.  
I love to couple  
The genuine way,  
When both parties are supple  
love's Rites to obey,  
Thus Babies are gotten  
With pleasure and ease,  
To live when we are rotten,  
But not with a disease.   

5.  
Great Plato (like Gato)  
Kept a plump brown Wench,  
For he loved a Belly  
as well as a Tench:  
In the high street at Athens  
By Diana's Temple  
The old Sage sung Loves matins,  
And wrore Verses for sample.   

6.  
And Diogenes self  
That fasted so much  
Was an old pocky elf,  
And of the French had a touch:  
His life was severe,  
For he took the Diet  
In that very 
x now called Corneli● Tub by the mistake of some unlearned Apothecaries.  Tub where  
On his Roots he did Riot.   

7.  
Then hang up the niceness  
Of grey bearded fools,  
The tenants that we own  
Were not known to the Schools:  
Let the sour men drink Whig  
While we tipple N●ctar,  
And dance the Paphian Jig  
To a rare Curtain-Lecture.   

8.  
Come then let's dally  
And daintily do,  
Though Routed we will Rally  
In spite of the Foe,  
And charge with joint motion,  
Though not without loss,  
Cupid's pleased with such a portion  
While the blankets we toss.   

9  
He that's still saying Grace,  
And ne'er falls to the meat,  
Is at best but an ass,  
And deserves not to eat:  
But were he as eager  
After warm meat as I,  
He'd not lie so long leaguer  
Till his conscience cry, Fie   

10.  
Then clip me Cla●issa  
While I thee intwine,  
We'll be incorporated  
Without Church-discipline,  
And vouch our Reality  
Spotless and fair  
To any man of quality  
Except my Lord Mayor.    


A Letter of compliment to a maid or Widow, the Lover excusing himself that he met not according to promise, &c.  
Dear Mistress,  
HAd I not a hope that your immaculate candour can whiten the swarthiest crime, I should choose rather to sacrifice my life to incessant sorrow, and consequently to inevitable death, than add to my guilt by apollogizing for a sin that can not be remitted: by love's Bow and Quiver by Venus' Shrine, nay by your fair self from whose bright eyes the blind God fetches his Paphian fire, and whose sacred bosom is the true Temple of divine Love, I could not (though I endeavoured it with the hazard of my life) meet you according to promise, some luckless Planet (without doubt) had governance over that ominous day, I confess it were but justice to cast me off as a thing me worthy your future notice, who have contemned (though not wilfully) such a happiness as Kings could have been proud to purchase with the price of their Diadems; you may doom me to death, I have deserved it, and am so clogged with guilt that I have scarce confidence enough to beg your pardon, if any penance might expiate this black oversight, I should think you more than courteous in appointing me to Row upon the Thames for twelve months, or to personate Jack Pudding upon the Ropes the whole term of time that makes up a Bartholomew-Fair: so that were I so much a Brute (as History makes Brutus to be) I should (undoubtedly) sign my own pass for the other World. Determine of me (dear Lady) out of hand, it is some happiness (though a killing one) that the Malefactor is sensible of the worst that can happen. Thus begging your speedy Reply, I humbly take my leave, and remain  
Your afflicted, but affectionate Servant.   

Her Answer.  
Sir,  
YOu do very aptly imitate those Children, who having tied strings about the legs of their Birds, sometimes suffer them to gain liberty to a great distance, but when they please twitch them home again; there is no dallying with love's Tools, his Arrows are sharply pointed, and apt to wound a wanton hand, can you think me so shallow to conceit that all the business in the world should have blocked up your way to one you affected with a cordial regard, and what fine Powers you call to witness with you that this Traditiae could not be vaded, a blind boys Bow, a blunt Dart, and a leaden Shrine. Well Sir, you know what command you have ●ver me, and that a slender excuse will serve where the injury is pardoned ere committed; all the penance I shall impose is this, that you afford me a visit at my Mansion to morrow in the morning about the hour of ten, where you shall find  
Your faithful Friend.    

A complemental Dialogue betwixt a shopkeeper and a scholar.  Scholar. 
Are you busy Sir?  Shopkeeper. 
Never Sir to you, nor any of your Goat: 〈◊〉 confess I was but a dull slave before I conversed with scholars, not worthy to tread upon the earth before I fell in love with learning, and what fresh hopes it has put into me, I do intend shortly to biggar all the bawdy Writers, especially him that wrote the Mock Poems of Hero and Leander; nay, I will build at my own charge an hospital, to which shall retire all diseased Opinions, and all halting Poets, as the venerable Humphrey crouch, Laurence Price, and Sam. Smithson.  Scholar. 
Sir, ye are a man made up of ingenuity, very charitable, more piously inclined than Sir Paul Piodar, you are a true pattern for the City Sir.  Shopkeeper. 
Sir, I have been informed by Revelation (without the belp of Arise Evans) that their shop-Books cannot save them.  Scholar. 
O Sir, much may be done by Manuscript, there is a kind of Spell in bad paper, waterish ink, and worse sense.  Shopkeeper. 
The muse's favour me, as my intents are virtues, will ye be my tutor Sir, I have read Green's Groats worth of Wit, the Spanish Rogue, the authentic History of Amadis de Gaul, and Tully's Love written by the Master of Art.  Scholar. 
You are excellently well read, Sir, you are my friend, and a friend to all that profess good Letters.  Shopkeeper. 
Sir, you are very honest, and yet you have a kind of modest fear to show it, do not darken your own worth with too much bashfulness, men of parts should proclaim themselves, the world will still remain ignorant of their worth else.  Scholar. 
Sir, you almost make me blush as red as those stockings you wear, I think they are of Naples.  Shopkeeper. 
I thought you scholars had known all things, you are beside your Text there, I must tell you; they are compounded I confess of the finest wool, and created in Jersey.  Scholar. 
Pardon my judgement Sir, we scholars seldom use any other objects but our Books.  Shop keeper. 
I do confess it Sir, provided alwaits they are licenced ones, and have some worthy hands set to them for probation.  Scholar. 
Sir, I must entreat your company to the Canary shop.  Shop keeper. 
With all my heart Sir, I am of late become a great lover of sack, and can make shift now and then to cut out a copy of Verses, I can tell ye as simple as I stand here, not a bit of Prose sometimes will down with me, but le●s away; Boy, have a vigilant care of my shop, the Times are dangerous, and if there come ever a scholar in black let him speaks with me, for my own part I do begin to dote upon Books, and am very strangely taken with strange Verses, and howsoever we are all accounted dull-brained Asses by Gentlemen, yet there are those that merit renown for their parts and performances even amongst us shopkeepers, witness Murford, Mercer, and Scot. I do love a scholar with my heart, for undoubtedly very marvelous things may be achieved by Art, I have read something though I say it that should not: Why Sir, there are those scholars in Town will tell you what is become of Horses and silver spoons, and will make Wenches dance naked to their beds, I had a Sister was served so; I am yet unmarried, and because some of our neighbours are said to be Cuckolds, I will never be married without the consent of some of these scholars that know what will come of it. Please Sir, to lead the way.  Scholar. 
Nay, I shall wait on you Sir.  Shopkeeper. 
Phoebus forbid it Sir, that were a fine jest i'faith, let Learning lie behind me, I have been better brought up than so Sir. Nay I know my postures I warrant you Sir, and have been drunk at Court more than twice in the days of old King Charles I'll assure you Sir.  Scholar. 
You will manifest what command you have over me Sir, I shall be obedient for once my capacious Citizen.   

To a maid in love with a young Man, but ashamed to show it.  

STill will you languish; see, here's pen and ink,  
Write to him; let your heart and seal express  
Such marks, as on his very soul may sink  
And show y'are blessed although with heaviness;  
May your Paper seem as fair  
As yourself when you appear,  
May the Letters which you write  
Look like black-eye-lids upon white,  
And may your charmed Pen such fancies bring  
(Being adorned with your Hand and Scale)  
As if your Quill were plucked from Cupid's wing,  
And so the riches of his soul may steal.    

A Letter to a false Friend, quaintly quipping him.  
IF I thought it could be possible to find out that race of men that Pliny talks of, whose heads stand in their breast, who scarce can tell a smooth lie, because their hearts are joined so near to their lips, I would instantly depart this Nation and travail to those well-meaning men, there I should forget the calumnies of deceitful tongues, and no more remember that I once prized the amity of so false a man as thyself, happy are those soul's chat sit in the Elysian shades, who being freed from fleshly clogs, have so clear an understanding of each other, that there is no need of ears or tongues; words were first made to reveal our meaning, but by a strange inversion they now serve to conceal our intents. I have spelled your hollow heart Sir already by joining three or four actions, but if those lent me no light, the reading of the whole Sentence gives me perfect assurance, you can no longer delude my sense Sir, your well-spoke wrongs are like hurtful words writ in a graceful hand, or a bloody sword sheathed up in velvet: so wishing your conversion, or— I will not say confusion. I close all with this truth,  
That I am for ever lost to your love.   

SONG X. The forsaken Virgin.  
[Tune is, For in my freedom's all my joy.]  

1.  
I Am a poor forsaken maid  
By a perfidious Youth betrayed,  
After so many oaths and vows  
While Myttle Garlands girt our brows  
Where shall I find a place where I  
May weep myself away and die:  
Death's the best cure, Death's the bestcure of misery.   

2.  
Come O th●u● with thy Lute and play me  
That very solitary, Ah me,  
Which for thy love thou didst compose  
When that thy heartstrings gave the close,  
A greater grief than thine have I  
Destroyed by black disloyalty:  
Death's the best cure, &c.   

3.  
Come then ye pretty Nymphs and fairies  
From your fair Meadows and your Daieries,  
Come Venus deck my sable pillow  
With blasted Myrtle and with Willow,  
Let the rude satyr's shout and cry  
'bout her that slights my monody:  
Come courteous Death, come courteous  
Death and end my misery.   

4.  
O false unconstant ●●othlesse Lad,  
Will not my murder make thee sad  
When swift report salutes thine care,  
That I am laid upon the bier,  
An ashey Victim unto thee?  
Here let me die and buried be:  
Come courteous Death, &c.   

5.  
Like cruel Theseus dost thou leave  
Thy courteous Ariadne so,  
Like perjured Paris wilt thou grieve  

* Aenone.  Her that has shielded thee from woe,  
Here will I moan, and wail, and cry  
Till like a soulless lump I lie:  
Come courteous Death, &c.   

6.  
While fervent love did fill each breast,  
Hast thou not oft these words expressed,  
Let heaven shower vengeance on my head,  
And Jove's dire Thunder strike me dead  
When e'er I prove unkind to thee;  
But these were spongy vows I see:  
Come courteous Death, &c.   

7.  
My Ghost will tell sad tales below,  
And let all loyal Lovers know  
That here such monstrous men there are  
Whom the grieved earth does sweat to bear  
False perjured and unkind like thee;  
Come courteous death, &c.   

8.  
If there be just vindictive Powers  
Residing in the heavenly Towers,  
If there's a Righteous Providence  
Which but to doubt were insolence,  
Worthy those plagues belong to thee,  
Then look for punishment for me:  
Come courteous death, &c.   

9  
Mean time (as dying people do)  
I'll prophesy what shall ensue  
This wicked impious change of thine,  
Not caused by beauty, coin, or wine,  
But by thy own inconstancy  
Which by the Gods chastised shall be:  
Come courteous Death, &c.   

10.  
Thou of thy Helen now hast joy,  
But shalt taste woes like him of Troy,  
When thy light heeled and gayrish Bride  
Shall love another man beside,  
Then (all too late) thou'lt think on me,  
And I will laugh below at thee:  
Come courteous Death, &c.   

11.  
My Ghost shall triumph in thy Fare,  
And in those pleasant shades of bliss  
Where each true Lover clips his Mate,  
(A happiness I'm sure to miss)  
I'll clap thy fall when thou shalt be  
Riveiled with meager grief like me:  
Come courteous Death, etc,   

12.  
And now mthes I feel kind Death  
Reaching his hand to stop my breath,  
Thrice welcome thou best friend to those  
Whose fierce Fate makes 'em their own Foes,  
Thy dulcet Dart oh let me try,  
And pass to immortality.  
Come courteous Death. &c.   

13.  
But when my Soul has gained the P●les  
Journeying to the Judge of Souls,  
If that my body find a grave,  
This Ep●aph oh let me have,  
Ben●a 〈◊〉 this stone a maid d●es lie  
murdered by love's inconsiancy.  
Come courteous Death, &c.    

A compliment from a Stranger, directed to the Lady or Mistress of the house upon his entrance.  Gentleman. 
Are you that beauty (Lady) whose lustre gives light to this methodical mansion?  Gentlewoman. 
Sir, you have given my face a more special regard by your good language than these●black brows can merit.  Gentleman. 
You are pleased to set a trivial rate upon yourself; you are wondrous fair— you have a very moving lip.  Gentlewoman. 
Prove it again Sir; all the poor means I have left to be thought grateful is but a kiss or two, and ye may reap them Sir.  Gentleman. 
'tis still the same, you wear Divinity about you, another kiss will make me immortal— How far may ye hold the time to be spent Lady?  Gentlewoman. 
'tis now Sir about the time when mortals whet their knives, some on thresholds, others on bricks, and some on the soles of their shoes.  Gentleman. 
You are very metaphorical, Madam; you mean it is almost dinnertime, if it might be without the trouble of your house, I would stay till your Husband comes, I have some earnest business with him.  Gentlewoman. 
I shall be proud of your society Sir, I beseech you stay Dinner, a piece of Beef Sir, and a cold Capon.  Gentleman. 
I have greater business then eating; but am truly happy in having your commission to wait your husband's approach.   
The end of the first Book.   


THE ACADEMY OF PLEASURE.  
The second Book.  
Printed in the Year, 1656.   

The Academy of Pleasure. The second Book.  
SONG I. The eloquent Lover.  
[Tune is, Pritbee die and set me free, or else be, etc]  

1.  
PRithee why must we no more,  
As before,  
Venus and her son adore?  
Prithee why has that fair front  
Clouds upon't?  
Prithee be as thou wert wont,  
Lovers ever should persever,  
Frank and free,  
Frank and free, but dogged never.   

2.  
Prithee (Dear) no more express  
(By thy dress)  
Such a killing sullenness,  
Prithee (Sweet) unfold thy beams  
Whence there streams  
Beauteous and celestial gleams,  
Tell me how I have displeased thee,  
I'll not cease,  
I'll not cease till I've appeased thee.   

3.  
O speak (my goddess) else I die,  
Murdered by  
Those sharp poniards in thy eye,  
Speak, or else I faint away  
With dismay,  
I have no business bids me stay  
Here on earth save to implore thee,  
And to cringe,  
And to cringe to all adore thee.   

4.  
Come, let's walk to yonder Grove  
Where our love  
Every plant that's there will prove  
Where thy most delicious name  
To thy fame,  
I have engraved the wildest Wolves to tame,  
At thy name (as is their duty)  
They do bow,  
They do bow unto thy beauty.   

5.  
Sylva●● and his sh●ggy crew  
When they view  
Thy lustre yield all veneration due,  
When we last time sported there  
Thou didst fear  
Lest some wild beast should draw near,  
Did not beasts and Satyrs pay thee  
Fealty,  
Fealty proud to obey thee.   

6.  
Did not Panthers creep to greet  
Thy fair feet,  
Seeming humbly to entreat,  
And the Genius of the place  
Smooth his face,  
Hoping to obtain thy grace  
While his train with flowers did strew thee  
To make known,  
To make known what love they owe thee.   

7.  
Di● not cold Diana strain  
To obtain  
(With her Arrow-loving Train)  
That thou shouldst have equal sway  
Night and day  
With her whom all the shady woods obey,  
But oh thy goodness ne'er flow higher  
Than that time,  
Than that time thou didst deny her.   

8.  
Thou wert born (my dearest Love)  
To approve  
What the pliant Graces move  
When they lead thee to the sport  
In such sort  
As if Jove should thank thee for't,  
Foolish niceness does betray thee  
Unto age,  
Unto age that will decay thee.   

9  
When those Roses shall in scorn  
Not adorn  
Thy cheeks now ruddier than the Morn,  
When she leaps from Ty●ons bed  
Wearied  
As sh''ve been but ill bestead,  
When those hairs that now are brighter  
Than the gold,  
Than the gold with age grow whiter.   

10.  
Then surrounded with despair  
And harsh care,  
Thou wilt ●igh, I have been fair,  
And wish that thou hadst been more free  
Unto me  
Who suffer by thy cruelty,  
And do find thou dost but quibble  
With my pain,  
Thy heart being smooth, but hard as pebble.    

The Master being angry that his Apprentice makes love to his Daughter, thus schools him.  Master. 
Sirrah, you shall know that you are my servant, my Apprentice bound and enrolled, though I have often entrusted thee with all I am master of at home and abroad, yet I do not remember that I ever gave my consent that thou shouldst court my Daughter, and just in the nick of time too, when she is on the very Prick of Preferment as they say, when I had found out a wealthy Husband for her, but I shall break the neck of your design, and mar your matter of Matrimony.  Serv. 
Sir, I acknowledge myself your creature, a thing that is wholly at your disposal. yet give me leave to say, that I have not been careless of that which concerns your profit, nor have I lavished and wasted your stock by my unthriftiness, I never wore your gains upon my back, or exhausted your treasure by my riots, but for your Daughter if her love have the least relation to me I shall not endeavour to stop it, though I were sure to be broken upon the wheel in case I neglected it, nor indeed am I able to frown upon her fair wishes, whose love I durst own to the teeth of torture, nor will you (I hope) have a thought of matching her to that lame piece of lechery—  Master. 
'tis very well, I shall receive instructions from you to whom I shall wed my Daughter, but I shall discharge your wisdom from any such employment; I do here discharge you my house, take your own liberty, and when I know not where to find a Son in Law I will send for you; Begone Sir, I do freely free you my service, you are your own master now, but shall never be my daughter's Hasband.   

Thanks for a Welcome.  

FOr your good looks, and for your claret,  
For often bidding, do not spare it,  
For tossing glasses to the top,  
And after sucking of a drop,  
When scarce a drop was left behind,  
Or that which nicknames Wine, even wind,  
For healthy mirth, and iusty sherry,  
Such as made old 〈◊〉 merry,  
Such are our thanks that you may have  
In blood the claret which you gave,  
And in your service shall be spent  
The Spirits which your sack hath lent.    

SONG II. The flattering Lover.  
[Tune is, Prince R●ports March.]  

1.  
NAy Dearest do not leer  
Him that so much does adore thee,  
Whose life has its dependence on thy smile;  
Why shouldst thou make him grieve  
Who on his knees does implore thee  
To let him live thy servant for a while:  
Can such sweet beauty  
Be deaf to complaint,  
And despise the duty  
Done to his Saint;  
Forbid it gentle Boy, thy dart  
Can cure this dire annoy that thus  
Excruciates my heart.   

2.  
Those eyes of thine speak love,  
Why then should my hopes be frustrate  
That are upon an honest Basis built?  
Would thou have my fancy rove  
Thy exquisite parts to illustrate  
Until the sacred muse's blood be spilled,  
I'll storm the mountain  
Until I come near  
The holy Fountain  
And drink't off sheer,  
That not one rhyming whelp  
From Hippocrene lest help  
Shall have  
His flyblown skill to save:   

3.  
I'll fix●hy glorious name  
If that thou wilt command it  
With curious art and industry upon  
The lips of thundering Fame,  
Nor shall strong Time withstand it,  
Bathing myself in happy Helicon;  
All former beauties  
Shall stoop to thee,  
As is their duties  
Swearing Fealty;  
Thy shrine I'll deck with gems  
Of price,  
Which she that rules the Thames  
Shall throw up in a trice.    

Two faithful Lovers compliment; each other meeting accidentally.  She. 
Sweet, &c. Welcome, not Dido was more joyful when Aeneas landed on the Carthaginian shore than I am to meet thee thus happily.  He. 
Thrice blessed be that kind Fate, which conducted me to this place, where I have the sight of her who is the sole comfort that I have on earth.  She. 
You may see how much Fortune is our friend.  He. 
They say that Fortune is only courteous to Coxcombs.  She. 
By that rule (my Dear) you should not be overwise.  He. 
Nay, sometimes the sly goddess affords a glance, or so even to those that are meriting, but that it is very seldom, and at best but to show her mutability, not that she a friend to worth— What says my Dear unto that faithful love which I have ever fervently professed.  She. 
I shall not dissemble, though I blush to acknowledge it; that very blind Boy who has wounded you, has also lodged an Arrow in my breast, I love you dearly; and may those Powers who govern all things terrestrial, grant not only the fruition, but the felicity that all loyal lover's merit.  He. 
You make me happy above human thought, my breast is too narrow to comprehend those numerous joys that throng about my heart.  She. 
My Father you know will do his utmost to hinder what God and Nature I hope has decreed, I mean, he will use all the stratagems that can be imagined to dissolve this sacred Union; he swears I shall marry a man of wealth, and of his choosing, or he will not own me for his child, but I scorn Mammon and his mines, the goods of the mind are the things that I prize, yet I would have you use your utmost skill (if it be possible) to obtain my father's consent.  He. 
I shall be guided by thee, my fair one, were the venture more perilous than that of Jason for the Golden Fleece, thou art my chaste Medea, and being armed with thy oraculous council, I shall not fear to force my way though opposed by millions of dangers.  She. 
Thanks my gentle Love; but lest that my Father (whose jealous head is haunted with more doubts than Argus was furnished with eyes) should suspect our conference, I will presently leave you, Farewell dearest friend until our next meeting.  He. 
Adieu my love, let the fairest Fortune attend thee, I will resort to your Father to morrow to implore his consent, I have a hope to prevail upon him.   

SONG III. A Dialogue between Strephon and Daphne.  Strephon. 
COme my Daphne, come away  
We do waste the crystal day:  
'tis Strephon calls. Daph. What would my love?  Streph. 
Come follow to the Myrtle Grove,  
Where Venus shall prepare,  
New Chaplets for thy hair.  Daph. 
Were I shut up within a tree,  
I'd rend my bark to follow thee.  Streph. 
My shepherdess make haste,  
The Minutes fly too fast;  
In these cooler shades we'll lie  
Blind as Cupid kissed thine eye,  
On thy bosom will I stray.  Daph. 
In such warm snow who would not lose his way?  CHORUS, 
Strephon, Dapne, together.  
we'll laugh and leave this world behind,  
And Gods that see  
Shall envy thee and me,  
But never find such joy  
When we embrace a deity.   

POESIES for Bracelets.  

He that sent this is faster bound  
Than what about thy wrist is wound.   

When you put on this little band  
Then think (my Dear) I kiss your hand.   

Go, keep that hand from Cupid free  
Till Hymen link her heart to me.   

When this silk Twist  
Adorns thy wrist,  
Let us two twine  
My cherubin.    

On a necklace.  

Here he hangs alive in chains  
Who late was slain with lingering pains.   

Cupid take heed (by me beware)  
How thou art taken in this snare,  
For Love himself if he fly near  
Is sure to be entangled here.    

On a girdle.  

While that thou dost her waste embrace  
Be sure keep others from the place,  
Nor can thy duty be orepast  
Until my arm ingyrt her waste.    

A Letter to a friend with money.  
Dear Friend,  
jam sorry that you should be exposed to so much penury, as to want so small a sum as— shillings, and good faith my condition was never so tattered as it is now, but I have sent you the money; I would beg of you to take some settled course, you have a good wit, and must stir in the world if you wish for a prosperous condition: but howsoever you are crossed by Fortune, you have a retiring place: come home to me, and be as welcome as my own soul, but be a good Husband as I am, which is to say, wear ordinary clothes, eat the best meat, and drink the best drink; I know this doctrine is not disgustful to you. Let me see you as soon as may be, for assure yourself, there is no man more entirely affects you than  
Your true friend.   

On a Blister on a gentlewoman's lip.  

CHide not thy sprouting lip, nor kill  
The juicy bloom with bashful skill;  
Know it is an amorous dew  
That swells to court thy coral hue,  
And what a blemish you esteem  
To others eyes a pearl may seem,  
Whose wary growth is not above  
The thirsty size that pearls do love,  
And doth so well become that part  
That chance may seem a secret art.  
Does any judge that face more fair  
Whose ●ender silk a mole doth bear,  
Or else that eye a finer net  
Whose glass is ringed about with jet?  
Are apples thought more sound and sweet  
When honey-specks and red do meet,  
Or will a Diamond shine more clear  
If in the midst a foil appear?  
Then is your lip made fairer by  
Such sweetness of deformity.  
The Nectar which men strive to sip  
Springs like a well upon your lip,  
Nor doth that show immodesty,  
But overflowing chastity,  
And who will blame the fruitful trees  
When too much sap or gum he sees?  
Here Nature from her store doth send  
Only what other parts can lend:  
If lovely buds ascend so high,  
The root below cannot be dry.    

A Dialogue betwixt Will and Joan.  Will. 
Come Joan, we are toward marriage, let us talk of that ●ill do us good, What will thy Granam give us towards housekeeping?  Joan. 
Marry two platters, a pot and a pan, two dishes and as many spoons, a sheet and two slannell blankets.  Will. 
This pretty well indeed lafoy, let me see: We must be as 〈◊〉 in the Market place next Tuesday, and we'll be married presently.  Joan, 
I'faith my honey sweet comb, Have thee, we'll have a whole noise of fiddlers, though I pawn my patticeate for't; come Will, let us his us 〈◊〉, we'll make a bag-pudding to supper.  Will. 
Come away Chuck.   

SONG III. A Tavern Rans  
[Tune is, Stay shnt the gate, &c.]  

1.  
STay noble hearts,  
Tother quart, what dull Fate is this  
That parts  
Our communion?  
But just now we were  
Resolved to stay here  
Till Phoebus dissolved our union,  
Is he gone to tipple (Boys) and shall we choke here?  
Is he hemmed with vapour, and shall we not smoke here?  
Here 3 quarts not touched yet that we have bespoke here.   

2.  
Boy, fill the glass,  
Here's a health to each man here  
And his taffe;  
Filled up higher,  
Or give me a bowl  
(For I me thirsty at soul)  
Whose top to the roof may aspire.  
There's no harm in good sherry, good faith none at all boys,  
It raises us up again, though we do fall boys,  
And makes even a pigmy Gygantick and tall boys.   

3.  
See, Bac●bus pleads  
That you light Beavers,  
And your heavier heads  
Might be parted,  
Bring ●haplets of Flowers  
For those Temples of ours,  
He's a Coxcomb that needs will be carted.  
Boy, bid all our Hackney-men drive from the door,  
But besure they have sack enough though on the score,  
Though they suck up more seas than would swallow the shore.   

4.  
See, now we are  
Obliged alike  
To prosecute the war,  
On-ships burned,  
We must now fight it out,  
For if they give us the rout  
On a hard bench each hero is urned.  
Let's break through their ranks (the Foe sparks & smiles)  
And be the sole Lords of the Canary Isles,  
Enriched with Rubie-faces, Jove's Sons richest spoils.   

5.  
Now we are glorious,  
And shall prove  
(In spite of Fate) victorious,  
Charge again,  
The half-emptied Cask  
Shall prove that our task  
Had halted by half witted-men.  
Though the Foe have strong Rampires he trembles within,  
If we storm but his outworks he'll ne'er turn again,  
Yet in taking him Prisoner much danger we win.   

6.  
But ere the sky  
Be painted  
With Aurore's saffron die  
Home we'll march boys  
And there in our beds  
Clap new Helms on our heads,  
Though our faces we fashion with starch boys.  
For he is the only true genuine Goodfellow,  
Who though sometimes Bowzie and thoroughly mellow,  
Will let nobody know that he sees green or yellow.    

A wealthy Clown courting a witty Gentlewoman.  He. 
Mistress E. God speed you.  She. 
That's more than I need at this time, for I am doing nothing Sir.  He. 
I were as good say a good word as a bad: but if you will have it more complementicetically as they say, than thus, How does your fair and beauteous worship?  She. 
Sir; 'tis more wisdom to say nothing at all than to speak to no purpose.  He. 
My purpose is to Wive you.  She. 
Very good; but I have a purpose too Sir, and that is never to wed you.  He. 
Belike you are in love with somebody else.  She. 
No, but I am lustily promised.  He. 
Make 'em your worship's man, I can deo many things I can tell you, else there are lies abroad. I have heard very well of you Mistress E, and so has my Father, who has sent me a wooing to you: nay, and I have a copy of Verses (cost me six pence, and a double jag of Mother redcaps Ale) made by our Vicar, I have been cunning them this four long hours by the clock, you shall hear me read them.  She. 
I for Phoebus' sake Sir, I love good Verses as I love good meat or witty company.  He. 
First I do beg your worship's good relief,  
(For I intend to show my mind in brief)  
I call to you if that you can afford it,  
I care not at what price, for on my word it  
Shall be repaid again although it cost me  
More than I'll speak of now, for Love hath cost me  
In surious blanket like a Tennis ball.  
And now I rise aloft, and now I fall,  
Thus do I still continue without rest  
I'th' Morning like a Man, at Night a Beast,  
Roaring and bellowing my own disquiet,  
That much I fear forsaking of my diet.  
How does your beauteous Worship like our vicar's Verses?  She. 
O rarely well! By the soul of Martin Parker your Vicar has an ingenieus soul; I am mightily taken I confess with your Poetry: but say I should set my affections upon you, how will you maintain me?  He. 
Marry with my land and living my Father hath promised me.  She. 
I have heard much of your wealth, but I never knew your manners before now.  He. 
I have no manors, but a pretty Homestalland we have good store of Oxen and Horses, and Carts, and ploughs, and householdstuff abomination, and great flocks of Sheep, and flocks of Geese, and Capons, and Hens, and Ducks: Oh we have a fine yard of Pullen, and thank God here is fine weather for my father's Lambs.  She. 
I cannot live content in the midst of discontent, for as it is impossible for that music to delight the care where all the parts of discord come to composition, so the marriage life will still consist of jars where there is no sympathy in the condition of the wedded Parties. Pray Sir, rest yourself contented with this Answer, I cannot love you.  He: 
Ay, I, 'tis no matter what you say, my Father told me thus much before I came that you would be something nice at first, but he bade me like you never the worse for that, I were the liker to speed.  She. 
You were best then leave off your suit till some other time, and when my leisure shall serve me to love you I'll send for you.  He. 
I shall be sure to pay the Messenger, and so I take my leave of your beautiful Worship.   

An Invitation to Mirth.  

HE that's contented lives for aye,  
The more he laughs the more he may,  
Ne'er meets with Acher in the bone,  
O● catarrhs, or griping stone,  
O● lingeringly his Lungs consumes  
Into fevers, Gouts, or rheums,  
Never he his body brings,  
Cause he ever laughs and sings,  
He that would his body keep  
From Diseases must not weep,  
Let each man keep his heart at ease,  
No man dies of that disease,  
'tis Mirth that fills the veins with blood  
More than wine, or sleep, or food.    

SONG IV. The Convert.  
[Tune is, For now the Butter-boxes begin for to v●pour, &c.]  

1.  
COme sweet Clarinde  
My joy and my life,  
I have left the Whore Dul●inda  
And thou shalt be my Wife,  
For now I find the folly of quaffing and whoring  
That ends in confusion and horrible woe,  
He have no more drinking, nor drabbing, no scoring,  
That dries up the body, and dams the soul too.   

2.  
I have been in Venice  
Amongst the brave La●●es  
In Madrid, in Paris, and Pad●● too  
Have had conversation,  
With wise men and Asses,  
With the taff●ry 〈◊〉 and Coventry blew,  
Yet all's done 'tis madness  
And grief and despair  
That ends in confusion and horrible woe,  
Their black gloomy prisons  
With outsides most fair  
That dry up the body, and damn the soul too▪   

3.  
Come then fair Temperance,  
True Image of heaven,  
Thee will 〈◊〉 worship  
Iminaculate maid,  
By thy bright self  
Alone I'll be shriven  
For cursed Accrasia  
Too long I've obeyed,  
I'll now (with Dioclesian)  
Plant herbs and sweet flowers,  
And think myself greater  
Than Spixe's mighty King,  
And sing o'er the Song  
Of the witty Ephesian  
Unto a Key equal  
With Flaccu● fine string   

4.  
What is the Camp,  
But a company of Co●n●ts?  
What is the City.  
But a Family of Fools?  
What is the Court,  
But a huge hive of Hornets,  
Moles, madmen and Mercenaries,  
Monsters and Mules?  
Thrice happy is the Hermit  
In woods that converses,  
And lives on what Nature  
Affords without toil,  
And sings his maker's praise  
In Theological Verses,  
Free from the Cl●ie  
The Camp or Court coil.    

A Letter to a maid or Widow.  
Lady,  

IN your stern beauty I can plainly see  
T●ose wonders that in Ae●na b●,  
If coals out of that Mountains top do● s●●e,  
Consuming ●i mes gush from your eye;  
If frost do there lie on the ground below,  
Your breast is white and cold as snow;  
Those fie●y sparks that set my heart on fire;  
Refuse to melt your own desire,  
The frost that doth binds up your chilly breast  
With double fire ●as 〈◊〉 oppressed:  
Just so the hearth his proper stain withstand.  
When ice itself heats others hands.    

A Lover that would be, finding his Mistress alone, thus courts her.  He. 
Save you sweet▪ Mistress, How comes it to pass that you are alone?  She. 
Because Sir, I desire no other company but my own.  He. 
Would I were your own then, that I might keep you company.  She. 
O Sir, you and he that is my own are far asunder.  He. 
But if you please you may be nearer.  She. 
That cannot be mine own is nearer than myself, and yet alas I cannot call myself my own; thoughts, fears, and despairs are only mine, and those do keep me company.  He. 
I must confess your Father is too cruel to keep you thus in a manner sequestered from the world, to spend your prime of youth in obscurity, seeking to wed you to a very fool that knows not how to use himself, but could my deserts be answerable to my desires, I swear by all things powerful that my heart could wish no higher happiness than to be graced with your love, I cannot play the dissembler as some do, nor hang my love at my tongues ●nd.  She. 
Sir, I shall consider of your suit.  He. 
Do, and make me eternally happy:   

A Marriage Song.  

1.  
REmember (Bridegroom) as thy Bride is fair  
How many Nights of care  
Waited thy honest lust,  
Thy timorous distrust,  
Thy conflict in the question now recall  
Her easy threats, thy ●a●ier tears and all  
That amorous ●tory  
Which made thee glad and sorry,  
How the sly maid  
At sundry times betrayed.  
And oft denied her Mistress now at last  
When thou hast liberty thy joys to taste  
Thou canst not put off wishing, but must woe  
For kisses while thou killest; tie her shoe  
As glad to see it s●ack, and fear to lose  
Makes thee embrace her with a stronger close.   

2.  
On to the Church, let Hymen pass before,  
Sing mi●●hfull Pae●ns: Io o'er & o'er.  
The Spring (to save me Poetry)  
Has spread with curious industry  
The way with Violets where she must tread  
Fetched from Flora's fragrant bed,  
Else would a birth stand up commanded by  
One touch of he●● though Nature knew not why,  
Perfumes upon her lips the Graces scatter,  
Her lips which nor her maid nor glass can ●●●tter.  
Now bathe thy soul in blisses  
And mel● thyself in kisses:  
●he will return thee love for love I'll warrant,  
And bring thee e●ery year an Heir apparent:    

Ralph courts Ma●dlin.  Ralph. 
Faith I h● been in a fair taking for you, a bots on you, for t'other day after I had seen you, my ●elly began to rumble; what's the matter thought I? with that I bethought myself, and the swe●t comportance of that same sw●et round face of thine: out went I, and I'll be sworn was never so taken, for I was fain to cut all my points; and dost hear Maudlin, if thou dost not grant me thy good will, in the way of marriage, first and foremost I'll run out of my clothes, and then out of my wits for thee.  Maudlin. 
Nay Ralph, I would be loath you should do so for me.  Ralph. 
Will you look merrily on me and love then?  Maudlin. 
Faith I care not greatly if I do.  Ralph. 
C●re not greatly if I do! what an Answers that? If th●●● wilt say, I Maudlin take thee Ralph to my sp●●ce Husband.  Maudlin. 
Why so I will, but we must be cried at the Market-C●o●se, and have more company for Witnesses first.  Ralph. 
Nay, we will not want for company.  Maudlin. 
Why then here's my hand.  Ralph. 
And here's a b●sse, I long to be in bed with thee my sweet ●orsell of maid's flesh.   


A Letter from a bachelor or Widower to the maid or Widow that he is sure to.  
My Dear, dear,  
SInce the heavens have so much favoured me that your consent walks hand in hand with the serious proposals of my lawful love, I cannot but express those joys that crowd about my heart, and tell you that as I was never happy till now, so I shall never find any felicity but in your blessed company, who are more to me than the Mines of M●xico or Pe●u, your face affording the fullness of beauty, your body the summum of all bl●sse, and your bosom the basis of all perfection, and rest confident that the Sun shall sooner shine without affording either ●●at or light, the Sea cease ebbing and flewing, and the Earth be void of Inhabitants ●r● my firm fixed affection fall from that bright Zenyth where my cordial zeal has placed it; I am providing as fast as may be for the Sol●●nization of our hymeneal Rites, my true love gives wings unto my haste, for I long to fold thee in my arms, and to lose my lusty youth in thy embraces who art my light and life, and to whom I shall ever prove myself  
Sincerely ●ff●ctionate.   

Her Answer.  
Sweet Friend,  
I Kindly thank you for your last Letter, and think myself the happiest she in the world who have the sincere and unbiased affection of a man so accomplished as yourself: nor shall I fail to retribute your cordiality with the return of a true and unfeigned zeal, my heart is wholly yours, you sit as sole sovereign there, and command each thought ere I can call it mine; my subjugation to you is (in my opinion) the most immense tranquillity that can possibly wait on Mortality; command me (dear Friend) as soon as you please, for the griping Miser is not more desirous of Mammon, or the hungry man of meat, than I am to prostrate all I call mine to your commands, to whom I shall ever manifest myself.  
A loyal Lover.    

A new litany.  

FRom a Nose that ne'er met Fo●,  
And from a Sword that ne'er struck blow,  
From a Red-breech to make a show  
With one Copper-lac● or two,  
From a Belt of leather enough  
Hung with Tobacco pipes to puff,  
And from a brawl to take in snuff.  
Libera nos Domine.   

From a new Hat without a Band,  
From an heir that his no Land,  
From a face at Plymouth●and,  
From him that wears a Feather in's Cap,  
With new white Boots without a Top,  
And paid for too by wondrous hap,  
With a painted Quean upon his lap.  
Libera nos &c.   

From a new Beard with Dogs-turd trimmed,  
With a new Lo e-lock, laced and limbed,  
From a new favour snatched or nimmed,  
From him that walks as if he swim'd.  
Libera nos Domine.    

The Lover being out of hope ever to gain his Mistress affection, thus takes his farewell of her by Letter.  
Discourteous Dance,  
HE that first folded his arms, looked pale, walks disconsolately, and sighed his sorrows in a pensive tone, was he that first taught Women how to be cruel and relentless: most inexorable Woman! have I so long courted thee with all the reality of serious love? have I l●ckt thy spital from the earth, and prostrated myself at thy feet as thy footstool, offering up more prayers at thy Shrine than in the Temple, and will nothing mollify thy obdura●e heart? what excuse canst thou make for such contemptuous scorn? am I another Hyponax, or misshapen Thyrsites? or has Time yet stamped the Characters of Age upon my brow? or is my estate so mean that I cannot maintain thee in more pomp than thy pride can dictate? if none of these can be charged upon me, let the world judge of thy wisdom; for me, I have found my error, and will appoint myself the strictest penance: in the mean time I gaze upon my quondam absurdities (in reference to thee) as prodigies that predicted ruin but by heavenly appointment are turned to good. So farewell fond and cruel Mistress, and may both P●les meet before thy love and my affection, which is the firm resolve of  
Thy mortal Enemy.   

SONG VI. The willing Prisoner.  
[Tune is, we'll go no more to the Old Exchange, etc]  

1.  
HAve I not loved thee pretty one  
A whole month and a day,  
And is't not now time to be gone  
I prithee Wanton say?   

I that until I viewed thy face  
Have laughed at Cupid's power  
Ne'er knew what amorous worship was  
Above a single hour,   

Am now in slaved by thy smiles  
And thy alluring postures,  
Nor am I weary of thy wiles,  
〈◊〉 do●e upon thy gestures.   

2.  
Sure thou haff some Circean char●,  
Some spell the● so attracts me,  
Yet am I happy in my harm,  
And blessed by that which wracks me.   

So loyal Prisoners kiss their Gyves  
And Martyrs play with fire.  
I would not part for thousand lives  
With thee my souls desire.   

Then Cupid grace thy Convertite  
With Pageants and Procession,  
And I such favour to require  
Will trumpet my profession.   

3.  
O thou art all so sweet, so fair,  
I lose myself in wonder,  
And Jove himself would quit his Chair,  
And throw aside his Thunder.   

But to obtain one kiss from thee,  
But Jove's self shan't supplant me,  
For while I boast thy amity  
His fire-balls cannot daunt me.   

Then come my Dearest, let me clip  
Thy body most divine,  
And suck Nepen●●t from thy lip,  
Which yields immortal wine.   

4.  
It is thy glory (Dearest sweet)  
Thy fight-less Archer never  
Did with a Dart my bosom gree●,  
Thy eyes supply his Quiver.   

Had Homer or Museu● seen  
Thy rare resplendent glories,  
Helen and Hero ne'er had been  
So famous in their stories.   

Thou hadst filled up the mouth of Fame  
And if my skill may raise thee,  
I'll rear such Trophies to thy name  
That after times shall praise thee.   

5.  
Thou art that Ve●●● which didst rise  
Out of the foaming Ocean,  
While all the tumid Deities  
Did wait upon thy motion.   

Since than thou art that goddess kind  
That rules the baby Getter,  
Let thy beloved A●chyses find  
How thou his limbs canst fetter.   

A brace of young Aeneas his  
I Shall every year find being,  
While I like ●●eel-bac●t Hercules  
My flesh am always freeing.    

A Letter from a Woman (heaven knows) being forced to woe some obdurate young Man.  
Sweet Sir,  
I Cannot but tax you of too much harshness and diss●nanty, who fly her who so entirely affects you: must Daphne follow Phoebus? fi● Sir! can you be so uneasy, can you freeze in so hot a summer's day, certainly it is your mistake that occasions this scorn: I have youth and some beauty, else my glass is treacherous, and all that censure me are mere Calumniators; I do confess I am too pliant, 100 much Woman yet I can frown & ●ip the passions of others even in the bud. I can tell others that they court our Sex only to please their present heats, and then it is their pleasure to leave us; I can hold off, and by the chemical power of my countenance draw whole Rhe●es of sonnets and Madrigals from the brain● of a w●●ping Lover; yet to you (dear Sir) who are my bet●er self, I put off all those necessary nice●ies, and contrary to custom do that office which no way befits a Woman, and entreat a Man to love, if you are human, and have blood and spirit you cannot choose but relent; though you are as hard as marble, yet I believe you are no Image; is it not deplarable that a thing of so exact a form shaped out with so true a symmetry, that has all the organs of speech belonging to a man should render all those but liveless ●otions that walk upon wi●●●: then (dear Sir) leave off what you have been, and be what God and Nature intended you for, a Man, and embrace that real love which is unfeignedly prostrated by  
Your affectionate, &c.   

A soldier complementing a young maid.  Soldier. 
I am a soldier and a bachelor, Lady, I could love such a Wife as you infinitely, they that use many words are commonly deceitful; but the truth is, I long to be a Husband, a good Husband: I find myself given to my ease a little, I am young you see, and for my abilities you need not question them, if you are diffident, try me before you take me.  Maid. 
You appear to me Sir, so honest and so civil, that I dare bid you welcome without a blush.  Soldier. 
You have made me a bountiful amends for your strict carriage when you saw ●e first, you will not be angry Lady if I ask you one question.  Maid. 
Any thing Sir.  Soldier. 
Are you a maid?  Maid. 
You make me blush to answer you: I was ever accounted so, and durst confirm it Sir, with an oath.  Soldier. 
Then would I counsel you to marry presently, for every year you lose, you lose a Boy, together with a Beauty.  Maid. 
I am not so strict Sir, nor so much tied unto a Virgin solitariness, but if an honest and noble soldier, (such as I esteem yourself) should profess a sincere affection, I think I should accept it, but first I must have good assurance of his love; I know well how to be commanded, and how to be obeyed if occasion require it, nor is my rial of less worth when 'tis spent, if spent by my direction for my husband's advantage, and I do hold it as indifferent in my duty to be his maid in the kitchen, or his cook if necessity command it, as to know myself the Mistress of the house in the Hall or the Parlour.  Soldier. 
Faith Lady, let's not linger, but be married on the sudden.  Maid. 
And as suddenly you will repent your bargain.  Soldier. 
The sooner I shall bless my Fate.  Maid. 
You are a Flatterer; but to speak truth, the first time that I saw you I found something in that noble face, that commanded my notice.  Soldier. 
I am all yours Lady.  Maid. 
You have the art to cozen me, but I shall venture for once, Hymen has sometimes shown himself.   

SONG VII: A pastoral Dialogue between Lalus and Melissa.  
[Tune is, Didst thou not once Lucinda vow, etc]  Lalus. 
HOw long (Melissa) shall thy scorn  
Make Lalus curse his fate,  
And wish that he had ne'er been born  
To perish by thy hate?  Melissa. 
Fond Shepherd, why art thou distressed,  
Have I not often said  
Lalus, No more thyself molest,  
In vain thou cravest my aid.  Lalus. 
What is't that renders me despised?  
My Flocks are neither few  
Nor lean; my love is highly prized  
By all the Nymphish crew.  Melissa. 
Ask me not why I shun thy love,  
I can no reason yield,  
Great Phoebus could not Daphne move,  
Love cannot be compelled.  Lalus. 
Then for thy love, O cruel maid!  
I must resign my breath,  Melissa. 
The Destinies must be obeyed,  
I do not wish thy death.  Lalus. 
So sinking Mariners do pray  
To Storms, and so they hear  
I will not live another day  
To feed on grief and fear.  Melissa. 
I would my power walked hand in hand  
With what I could desire,  
But Fate no mortal can withstand,  
Farewell, I must retire.  Lalus. 
Farewell, thou ●tinty-hearted girl,  
Thou wilt repent too late,  
When tarling Fame abroad shall hurl  
The rigour of my Fate.   

A new-married Wife thus discards her quondam Lover by Letter.  
Sir,  
COuld not your own discretion tell you that when I was married I was none of yours: is it not time Sir, to become virtuous? I hope you will forget our past follies, and neither talk of our intimacy, or cherish a thought of our future familiarity; your eyes are now commanded to look off me, I stand now on the marriage circle safe and secure; nor can all your Spells, Charms, or Incartations be of force to remove me; it is the highest sacrilege to violate Wedlock you rob two Temples at once, and so make yourself doubly guilty, while your ui●e hers, and bespatter her husband's honour, but I have hopes of your conformity & that for the time to come you will love me virtuously, chastely, and modestly, so expecting, nay imploring your compliance, I take my leave, and am  
Yours in all civil service.   

A conceited complemental Dialogue. A waggish Wench and a new wounded Lover.  She. 
Did your wisdom conceit, that I was in love? I wonder where I first began to suck in that unnatural heat, I am sure not from those two leaden eyes of yours, that sight is no way piercing; I confess they would be very lovely ones if the balls stood right, and there is a leg of yours (to your praise be it spoken) made out of a dainty staff, and yet God be thanked there is calf enough.  He. 
Be pleased to pardon him Lady, who though once refractory, is now become soft and soluble, you see what miracles your beauty can work.  She. 
Alas! has it been wounded of late? pricked at the heart I'll warrant, with a forked-Arrow.  He. 
Let my true unfeigned penitence procure a pardon for my former follies, I do acknowledge that dread powerful deity little; great Cupid, and his all-quickening heat burns in my breast, I confess I am he that once wronged your honour, that termed you unchaste and impudent, and yet I am he that now do beg your love, my Contrition is as true as my Allegation was false; I am now all love, and all your creature, nor can I live unless you will deign to love me.  She. 
Well Sir, I shall consider of your suit, your Confession, and Contrition has something wrought upon me.  He. 
I am at your disposal.   

SONG VIII. The inspired Lover.  
[Tune is, Gerard's Mistress.]  

1.  
APpear  
Thou true Aurora, suddenly appear,  
The world to cheer;  
For till thou shinest all things do languish here:   

Diffuse  
Those lucid glories, oh diffuse thy beams  
To guild love's streams,  
Where Cupid Anchors in a Ship of Dreams:   

Too long th''ve been secluded  
When those fulgent rays of thine  
Can clothe this Globe  
In such a Robe  
Shall Cymbia's self outshine.   

2.  
Let ou●  
Hume●ous Poets flatter rottenness and paint,  
And call her Saint,  
Making a Quean a Queen with language qu●int,   

And call  
Those Ladies beautecus, whose sunk watry-eyes,  
And riveled thighs  
Would daunt death's self, meaning to make them prize.   

Let them still daub and varnish  
Old Hecub●, and call her fair,  
While we do know  
'Tis nothing so,  
She sheds her nails and hair.   

3.  
But thou  
Great nature's goddess, glory of thy kind,  
Where shall we find  
One like thyself for person and for mind?   

Thy true,  
Yet roseate colour that exceeds all art,  
And fires my hear●,  
Those rare perfections lodged in every part.   

That hie-bu●lt livery forehead,  
That melting lip, and speaking-eye,  
And such a tongue  
Engaged in Song  
Would slave a deity.   

4.  
I do  
Not envy Phoebus with his Lawreate Love,  
Nor would I prove  
Saturn's P●ylyra, or the Wife of Jove,   

Let Bacchus  
Court his Madam in a kindly grape.  
Let Saturn's rape,  
Beaut●ous Al●mena in Ampbitrio's shape,   

I have more than heaven,  
Earth, or Neptune's empiry,  
Angels and Men  
Fall prostrate than  
Ado●e this deity.   

5.  
When I  
First perused that celestial face,  
In such a place,  
Where Flora tripped it with her Nimphish race.   

Did not  
The cheerful goddess and her rose-crowned crew  
All flocked to view,  
A mortal creature but of heavenly heiw.   

Did they not each fall prostrate as sweet Ver in charge had given  
A flowery wreath  
Each did bequeathe  
To thee the joy of Heaven.   

6.  
I am  
Not perpl●x●d at the great Turks store,  
Or that the O●e  
Of hallowed Shrines serves to adorn his Whore.   

The mighty Sultan's greatness, or the Persian pride,  
I can abide;  
And view the great Iberian Monarch ride   

In his Golden chariot  
Studded with most precious G●ms,  
In thee (my Dear)  
I have what ere  
The mightiest Prince esteems.    

A Jeering, ironical Epistle.  
Sir,  
I Have so much care of your health, that I cannot but entreat you (as the Welsh Philosopher says) to take very many heeds, that your brains bring not your body to ruin. I hear you have undertaken all City-Feasts, Poesies for Chimneys and Ghambers, and Entertainments whensoever, and wheresoever, at the peril of your own invention; 'tis a very noble resolve I confess, but you must consider that the misery of Man may fitly be compared to a Divedapper, who when she is under water past our sight, and indeed can seem no more to us rises again, and does but shake herself, and is the very same she was: even so (beloved Sir) is it still with transitory Man. You have learned the names of the several liberal Sciences, and have written Epistles congratulatory to the Nine Musess, and are indeed one of the Water-Bayliffs of hell con. But what then? Poverty is the Patrimony of the Muses; those that have seen the sad Exit of many a famous Poet, have made that old Law into a new maxim: you are not to be taught that no man can be learned of a sudden, but let not your project for poetry discourage you, what (probably) you may lose in that you may get again in alchemy; but what ever happens, you must remember that the chief note of a Scholar is to govern his passions; keep your hat on, the block salute few bareheaded, especially in Winter there is much danger in it. The Poet Aeschilus while he was complementing with his hat in his hand had his brains beaten out by a shellfish darted from an eagle's claw, who took his balld-pate for a white Rock: I know you bruise your brains and confine yourself to much vixation, I know also that eight and twenty several almanacs have been compiled, and all for several years since first that fabric of yours was endued with breath, and eight and twenty times has Phoebus' car run out his yearly course since your creation. I need not play the Aedipus, or say you are eight and twenty years of age; so wishing you long life, I rest and remain—  
Yours verily.   

A lovesong, Between Amyntas and Cloris.  

1.  
CLoris sighed, and sang and wept,  
Sighing sang, and singing slept;  
Awakes, sighs, sings, and weeps again  
For Amyntas [Amyntas!] that was slain.   

Oh! [oh!] had you seen his face quoth she,  
How ●weet, how full of majesty:  
And there she stopped, and then she cried,  
Amyntas! Amintaas! and so she died.   

2.  
Cloris dead! Amyntas came,  
Whilst the echo sounds his name;  
A false report had noy●'d him slain,  
Which makes her death a double pain.   

Gone! [gone] is my Love, my life, (quoth he)  
The mirror of true constancy:  
And then he rests, and kiffing cries  
My Cloris, my Cloris! and by her dyes.    

SONG ix..  

COrinna false! how may it be?  
Let me not hea●'t again, 'tis blasphemy;  
She's Divine,  
Not the Shrine,  
Where the Vectall flame doth shine,  
Holds a Light more constant, pure than she:  
Next shall the Night  
Out-burn that Tap●r-light  
Which consumes the one-eyed day,  
Phoebus' rays  
Shall not gaze  
Titan in his clearest face;  
Snow shall burn,  
Floods return  
To the Springs their funeral urn,  
Shall enlive its ashes ere her love's decay.   

2.  
'Tis said Corinna, how may it be?  
As false as my affections true to thee;  
That thou art  
How my heart  
Fears such terrors to impart  
Not what thou was wont to be to me:  
This! this destroys  
My late triumphant joys  
Which swelled when in her arms entwined,  
Love's best wreath,  
You did breathe  
Vows to be my life till death;  
Robbed that bliss,  
Leaving this,  
With sighs, and every word a kiss,  
Whilst that our poor souls are with love combined.   

3.  
Last Night I walk into a Grove,  
Where chaste embraces did oft express a love,  
Pure as fire,  
Whose desire  
Might but with our souls expire,  
This I vowed since your sad remove:  
The Nightingale  
Hast hushed her pretty tail●,  
Now leaving her dities to the owl,  
When we spy  
From the sky  
Falling-Starres, our misery,  
They assign  
If you shine  
In any O●be of love but mine,  
Come, come Corinna and revive my soul.    

The muse's Expositor: OR, A poetical Dictionary, For Information of the mere English Reader.  

A.  

Ajax.  
AJax surnamed Telemon, who (vanquished by Ulysses invincible Oratory, who in despite of him obtained Achilles' celestial arms) slew himself, out of whose blood sprang a Flower with these letters on the leaves, A. J. which are the first letters of his name, signifying grief, and dolour: Ajax in Greek signifying alas.   

Achilles  
The Son of Peleus and Th●tis, the greatest and most excellent warrior among the Greciau●; the Poets will have him to be Invulnerable, only his heel might be pierced; which (say they) was proved by Paris, who wounded him with an envenomed Dart (in the Temple of Apollo) in that very place, whereof he died.    

B.  

Bellerophon,  
As some will have it, the Son of Neptune, as others of Glaucus' King of Epire, an all-accomplisht young Prince; he residing in the Court of Petreus King of Argos, the King's Wife (A●thia) became passionately in love with him, insomuch that (forgetting of what Sex she was) she offered him her body, but being rejected by this frigid Hippolytus, and diffident of his secrecy, with her heir dishelved, and on her knees she besought the King her Husband, to wipe off her stain with sponges made of his heart who had ravished her: Petreus, though highly incensed, would not immediately destroy him, nor permit his stinghter in his Palace, but contrived his ruin thus, He wrote Letters to his Father-in-law, Jobaras King of Lycra; making Bellerophon the Messenger, intimating that upon receipt of those he should immediately kill him (Bellerophon) as his deepest enemy, the Prince thus dispatched with the message of his own murder, repaired to Lycia, and was magnificently treated by the King for the space of twelve days: which expired, Jobaras inquired the welfare of his Son and Daughter, with the present estate of Epire, demanding if he had no Letters that might hint his desired solution. Bellerophon presently pulled forth his Packet, which the King receiving and reading, became much astonished; but dissembling his displeasure, he began to cogitate how he might deliver over Bellerophon to death by some wily stratagem, and therefore using him with all honour for some few days, he began at length to express more intimacy, often discoursing with him of Prodigies, Monsters and Serpents, amongst the rest he mentioned the chimaera, a most hideous monster-, informing him, that whosoever should destroy that beast should have Temples erected to his honour. Bellerophon, whose magnanimity was sufficient to animate him to any adventure, (though never so dreadful) readily undertook the encounter, vanquishing this more than monster thanks to his plumed palfrey; for which deliverance, Jobaras not only altered his sanguine resolve, but gave him one of his Daughters, called Cassandra in marriage, with part of his Territories.    

C.  

Cassandra,  
A prophetess, Diughter to Priam King of Troy: Antiquity relates that Apollo was much enamoured on this sibyl, who for a long time remained deaf to his demands, to the great grief of that God, as is sweetly hinted by the famous French Poet Ronsard in one of his most excellent sonnets (translated, and almost fitted for the press) to his Mistress, whom he shadows under the name of Cassandra, Son. 22.  

So sacred Phoebus up and down did rove  
On Zinchus banks (by Illium swiftly running)  
While rivers, woods, and flowry-meads did move,  
Wailing (with him) Cassandra's cruel cunning:   

In vain the pensive God his Harp did ply,  
(Mingling his briny tears with Xanthus' stream)  
In vain he taxed his Lady's cruelty,  
Wasting his vitals in an amorous Dream.   

As thou great God of Science, and of Light,  
Gold-haired Hyperion were't once perplexed;  
So am I stabbed with delours day and night,  
With griping care, and sullen sorrow vexed, &c.   
Yet at last this love-sick Deity got a grant of his wishes, on this condition that Phoebus should furnish her with such Prescience, that she should be able to foretell the Fates of Men, Nations, and Cities for Ages to come. Phoebus' granted her desire, but claiming her promise, she gave a scornful negation: At which Apollo being incensed (since it was impossible to seize what he had already conferred for the Gods (say the Poets) cannot revoke their promise) added this, That though she prophesied never so truly no man should believe her, the reason that though she foretold the calamities that must inevitably follow if Helen were not restored, yet none harkened to her advice.   

Calais,  
The Brother of Zetes, both sons to Boreas; the two brothers being embarked with Jason, and the other Argonauts, for the conquest of the Golden Fleece, happened to cast Anchor in a Haven of Bythinia, then under the sceptre of Phineas King of Bythinia and Paphlagonca, (a man most skliful in predicting future accidents) who, for divulging the secrets of the Gods, having been honoured with their counsels, was not only struck bind by Jupiter, but most strangely tormented by Harpies, i. e. monstrous Birds, having faces like Virgins, their hands misshapen and woudrous large, furnished with great bellies and insatiate appetites, these so soon as Phineas was set down to meat were constant Intruders, either devouring all, or in case any dish escaped their rapacity, they defiled it with loathsome excrements. Phineas having foreseen the approach of those noble Adventurers who were now landed in his Dominions, furnishing himself with a Guide, resorted to their Harbour; relating his misfortune, and imploring their assistance, adding, That he was near allied to them in blood, having married one of their Sisters called Cleopatra, also that he had a long time expected their approach, as appointed by heaven for his deliverance. The Sons of Boreas (whose shoulders were adorned with wings like Birds) and their fellow-Adventurers being moved with compassion, associated him to his Court, where at the hour of Dinner they were sumptuously feasted, but scarce had they tasted the viands, when behold the Harpies (with hideous noise) invaded the meat, filling the room with a noisome stench: then the Sons of Boreas presently taking wing, fell upon the Harpies with such courage that they forced them to fly, when a voice was heard from heaven, forbidding their further pursuit, and assuring that the Harpies should no more infest Phineas, Appollonius, Valerius Flaccus.   

Castor,  
The Brother of Pollux, the two Sons of Leda, the first by Tyndarus, the second by Jupiter; they were born in Aebalia, called also Laconia; Castor being slain by Meleager his Brother, Pollux, (who challenged the right of Immortality, as the Son of Jove) so infinitely loved him that he prevailed with his Father Jupiter that his Immortality might equally be shared betwixt them; which being granted, they live and are in heaven by turns.    

D.  

Delphes,  
Where Apollo's Temple once stood, on the Hill of Parnassus, a Rock everywhere hanging over it, where stood a City not defended by Walls but by Precipices; the middle of the Rock did open itself into the form of a theatre, by reason whereof the clamour of men and the clangor of Trumpets when they were sonnded, was heard more multiplied by the Reverberation; which struck the men of that Age (being ignorant of the natural cause) with great terror, adding a reverend amazement to their admiration: here this Devil of Delphos a long time gave Oracles, much about this hollow of the Rock, on the middle of the height of the Hill, there was a little Plane, and in it a deep Hole, out of which the Oracle proceeded, which being a cold breath driven up (as it were) by a wind, did possess the minds of the Priests with a madness, who being filled with the God (or rather the Devil) he did enforce them to give Answers to those that demanded them.    

E.  

Empedocles  
The renowned Sicilian Philosopher, he constituted two principles of all things, viz: Vacancy and Repletion, and was of opinion that of those atoms congregated in one bulk; all this great ALL took being, that he might be thought a God, he leapt into Aetna, as was confirmed by the ejection of his brazen shoes.    

F.  

Faunus,  
One of the Wood Gods, sometimes taken for Rebin goodfellow; one of that name King of the Latins, who first erected Temples, was worshipped with Divine Honours, of whom all Temples were called Fanes.    

G.  

Gorgon's.  
Phorcus the Son of Neptune had six Daughters, three whereof were called the Aged, because they were born with white hairs covering their bodies like a garment; the other three were named Gorgon's for their horrible shapes. Gorgon in Greek signifying terrible: they feign thee these three had but one Eye to see with, and one Tooth to eat with, which they mutually enjoyed by turns. Medusa being mortal, but the other immortal: they had their heads periwigged with scales of Dragons, their teeth long as those of a wild boar, having wings wherewith they flew; moreover qualified with this excellent property, that whoever looked upon them were immediately converted to stone, for so the Poets and Grammarians (as well Greeks as Latins will have it) but to speak truth, and with authentic Authority for warrant they were endued with such excellent beauty that all that gazed upon them were surprised with amazement: thence came the Fiction, that they were converted into stone, Nat. Comes Mithol, lib. 6.    

H.  

Hymen  
The God of Marriage, he was born in Athens. It happened that the chief Virgins of the City sporting themselves in an Evening by the seashore were surprised by pirates, and with the rest, Hymen (who to enjoy the company of his Beloved had put himself into the habit of a Woman) was brought on board, but at midnight this masculine maid cut the throats of all the pirates while they were soundly sleeping; and running to the City, demanded of the Citizens what they would give to him that should restore their Daughters? They being surprised with joy, promised him all they were masters of. He only requested the immediate possession of his Mistress; which being confirmed unto him by oath, he immediately gave every man his girl, and receiving his dearest Dear to his embraces, that marriage proved so fortunate, that after his decease it was the constant custom of the Greeks to Invoke Hymen at every Nuptial Feast; and from them the Latins received that Ceremony, long time in use amongst them.    

I.  

Iô,  
The Daughter of Inachus, transformed into a Cow, and bulled by Jupiter; at which, Juno being angry, created a fly called the Aestrum, which so stung poor Iô that she became mad, and afterwards brought forth a Son to Jupiter, called Epaphus Aesehylus.    

L.  

Laomedon,  
Father to Priam, he intending to build the City of Troy, Neptune and Apollo (degraded of their Rule) indented with him for an Annual Salary to afford their utmost aid: This proffer was cheerfully embraced by Laomedon, but his work finished, he not only denied to make good his agreement, but threatened in case they departed not his Territories to cut off their ears and banish them into some barren Island: this brace of Deities thus injuriously dealt with were extremely incensed, and resolving to castigate this perfidious Prince, Apollo shot his Arrows (headed with pestilence) into the Town, while Neptune thundered his rage in impetuous Torrents that passed over the walls, threatening an utter devastation by water, Laomedon being thus plagued with fire within, and water without, resorted to the Oracle, inquiring the cause and cure of these evils: Answer was given, That the enraged Powers could not be appeased but with the yearly Tribute of an immaculate Virgin made choice ●n by Lot, and bound to a Rock adjoining to the seashore there to be devoured by the Monsters of the Sea. Laomedon returning to Troy, summoned the Grands of the City, to whom he related the harsh Doom of the Oracle: they (of two evils, willing to choose the least) give their consent, but with this caution, that the Sortil●ge should impartially pass: the Lots were immediately cast, and (by the appointment of Fate) fell upon Hesione the King's Daughter, who was immediately taken, and her silken limbs fastened to a Rock with ironchains; as this naked Princess was bemoaning her captivity, every minute in expectation to be buried in the bowels of a monstrous ork. The great Hercules passing that way, being moved with compassion to hear her laments, gave her deliverance, by slaying the monster. Laomedon falling at the feet of Hercules, manifested his joy, proffering him thirty Horses lately given him by Jupiter. Hercules gave him thanks, but refused the gratuity (being now on his journey for the achievement of the Golden Fleece) till his return, which was in a few days after: but demanding his Horses, Laomedon denied that he ever made such a Proposal●: at which monstrous ingratitude H●rcules being justly enraged, sacked the City of Troy. Valerius Flaccus Appo●●o●ius, lib. 3.    

M.  

Medea,  
The Wife of Jason, for whose sake she betrayed her country, ●ew her Brother, and lastly, her her own Children.    

N.  

Nereids.  
Nymphs of the Ocean, waiting upon Thetis: they are said to be fifty in number.    

O.  

Orpheus,  
The Son of Apollo and Cali●p●: or, as others say, of Oxger a mountain in Thrace and Polymnia. He is said by the sweetness of his melody to attract the affections of Tr●●s and Stones to calm the winds, and stop the courses of Rivers; his Wife Eurydice dying, he took his journey to Hell, where he obtained such favour of Pluto, (for it seems the very devil's delight in music) that his Wife had leave to return with him to the Earth; but in case he look back till his arrival there, the favour should be frustrate. He (who doted upon his wife's countenance) forgetting the Injunction of the Acherontic God, must needs look over his shoulder, and so in a moment lost his dear & long attempted purchase; therefore returning to the earth he spent his days in the severest solitude, and yet his mourning occasioned mirth, for,  

1.  
While Orpheus sweetly did complain,  
Upon his Lute with heavy strain,  
How his E●udic● was slain;  
The Trees ●o hear  
Obtained an ear,  
And after left it off again.   

2.  
At every stroke and every stay,  
The boughs kept time, and nodding lay,  
And listened, bending all one way;  
The Ast●n-Tree  
As fast as he,  
Began to shake, and learned to play.   
— being finally (after a tedious languishment, become a Woman-eater) he was slain by Thracian Women as the very enemy of their sex.    

P.  

Phil●mel,  
Or the Nightingale, the Daughter of Pandion King of Thrace, who to be revenged on her Husband Tereus (who had deflowered her Sister, and cut out her tongue to prevent discovery) slew her own Son Iris, and feasted his Father with his limbs, and was transformed into a Bird called a Nightingale. Strada has an excellent copy of Verses, containing a contention between this mellifluous Chori●ter and a skilful L●●in●●t, which for the Readers delight (as they were lately translated) shall be here inserted.  

Now the declining Sun'gan downwared b●nd  
From higher heaven, and from his locks did send  
A milder flame, when n●●r to Tiber's flow  
A Lutinist allayed his careful w●e  
With sounding char●●, and in a greeny seat  
Oth' shady oak took shelier from the heat.   

A Nightingale ore●eard him, that did use  
To sojourn in the neighbour-Grove, the Muse  
That filled the place, the Siren of the wood,  
Poor harmless Siren stealing n●er, she stood  
Close lurking in the leaves, attentively  
Recording that unwonted melody.  
She conned it to herself, and every strain  
His fingers played, her thr●at retu●n'd again.   

The Lutinist perceived an answer sent  
From th' imitating Bird, and was content  
To show her play; more fully, then, in hast  
He tries his Lute, and giving her a taste  
Of the ensuing quarrel, nimbly beats  
On all his strings—   

— As nimbly she repeats,  
And mildly ranging o'er a thousand keys  
Sounds a shrill warning of her after lays.   

With rolling hand the Lutinist than plies  
The trembling threads, sometimes in scornful wise  
He brushes down the strings, and kems them all  
With one even stroke, than takes them several,  
And culls them o'er again; his sparkling joints  
With busy descant, mincing on the points,  
Reatht back with nimble touch, that done he stays.   

The Bird replies, and Art with Art repays,  
Sometimes as one inexpert, or in doubt  
How she might wield her voice she draweth out  
Her Tone at large, and doth at first prepare  
A solemn strain, not weaved with winding air,  
But with an equal pitch and constant throat  
Makes clear the passage for her gliding note,  
Then cross division diversely she plays,  
And loudly chanting out her quickest lays,  
Poises the sound, and with a quivering voice  
Falls back again.—   

— He wondering how so choice.  
So various harmony could issue out  
From such a little throat does go about  
Some h●rder lessons, and with wondrous art  
Changing the strings, doth up the Treble dart.  
And downward smite the Base, with painful stroke  
He beats; and as the Trumpet doth provoke  
Sluggards to fight, even so his wanton skill  
With mingled discord joins the hoarse and shrill.   

The Bird this also tunes, and while he cuts  
Sharps, notes with melting voice and mingled puts  
Measures of middle sound, then suddenly  
She thunders deep and juggs it inwardly  
With gentle murmurs, clear and dull she sings  
By course as when the martial warning rings.   

Believe't the minstrel blushed, with angry 〈◊〉  
Inflamed quoth he, thou chantress of the 〈◊〉  
Either from thee I'll bear the prize away,  
Or vanquished break my Lute without 〈◊〉  
Inimitable accents than he strains,  
His hand flies o'er the strings in one he 〈◊〉  
Far different numbers, chasing here and there,  
And all the strings belabours everywhere,   

But she when practise long her throat had 〈◊〉  
Enduring not to yield at once doth set  
Her spirits all at work, and all in vain,  
For while she labours to express again  
With nature's simple voice such divers keys,  
With slender pipes such lofty notes as th●se,  
O'ermatched with high designs, o'ermatched with wo●,  
Just at the last encounter of her foe.  
She faints, she dies, falls on his Instrument  
That conquered her, a fitting Monument.     

R.  

Rhea,  
Called also Cybells, the Mother of the Gods, Wife of Saturn, the Father of Jupiter.    

S.  

Salmacis,  
A Nymph in love with a Sullen Youth, whom she one day found bathing in a crystalline River, and stripping herself, accosted him naked; but he still refusing her love, she clasped him about the middle, and invoking the heavenly powers that they might never part, they were incorporated.    

T.  

Telephus,  
The son of Hercules King of Mysia, being wounded by Achilles with an Axe (when landing with his forces on his Continent, they were opposed by the Mysians, being now on their journey for Troy) could not be cured in eight years after: resorting to the Oracle to inquire what were best to be done. He received answer, That he who gave the wound, alone could cure it. He therefore coming to Achilles was by him stricken again with that very Axe in the same place as before, and was immediately cured, a cure both swift and strange.    

V.  

Venus.  
Or the Sea-born goddess, her story is thus: Saturn, the Son of Heaven and Earth, by the persuasion of his Mother, cut off his father's Testicles, throwing them into the Sea, from the sapour whereof Venus had being, whence she is called by Lycophron,  — [Lover of the Privities.]— 
The first place where she landed was Cythera, from thence she set sail for Cyprus, whence she is called Cytherea and Cyprides. The ancients printed her (as newly arising from the Ocean) naked, sailing in a shell. Alexander the Great commanding Apelles to give her effigy, afforded him his own Paramour (all naked) as his pattern; but the Painter having finished his piece, was as much surprised with this living, as Alexander with that dead Venus, and by Alexander's licence, received her as the reward of his Industry. On this subject the Poet Baif has an Ode, which (because it was never yet Englished) I will here insert:  
Behold her hair, yet moist with brine,  
Platting her locks with artful care,  
The Sea-born Venus (all Divine)  
To Cyprus Island doth repair.  
A Shell's her Ship, no sooner born  
But Incense does her Shrine adorn.    
The End of the muse's Expositor    

A plaster for Priscian's pate. AN APPENDIX TO The Academy of Pleasure.  
Containing An alphabetical Explanation of Hard Words, For Instruction of the Weaker sort of Capacities.  

A.  
ADulate] flatter, or cog  
abbreviate] make short  
A●ihilate] make void  
Abandon] forsake,  
Acherontica] relating to Hell  
Adulterated] corrupted, altered from its genuine purity  
Abdicated] thrown down  
Absolved] forgiven  
abominate] hate deadly  
Alienated] estranged, or lost to former knowledge  
Anagram] a Divin●ion by names, called by the ancients Onomantia; the Greeks refer this Invention to Lycophron, who was one of those they called the Seven stars, or Pleiades; afterwards (as witnesses Eustachius) there were divers Greek Wits that disported, themselves herein, as he which turned Atlas for his heavy burden in supporting Heaven into Talas, that is, wretched. Some will maintain, that each man's Fortune is written in his Name, which they call Anagramatism, or Metragramatism: poetical liberty will not blush to uso E for E, V for W, S for Z. That amorous Youth did very quaintly su●s, resolving a mysterious expression of his Love to Rose Hill, when in the border of a painted cloth ●e caused to be painted as rudely as he had devised grossly a Rose, a Hill, an Eye, a Leaf, and a Well, that is if you spell it, I Love Rose Hill.  
Accost] salute  
accrue] gain by industry  
apocryphal] doubtful  
Assume] take to himself  
Alacrity] cheerfulness  
Allusion] relating to another matter  
Amiamble] fair or lovely  
Amicable] friendly  
Arbitrate] decide, or end a controversy  
Alternate] constantly in motion  
Agile] nimble  
Abstersive] See the description of Byrtha's bed in Gondibert, Commenced on by E. R. Canto 2.   

The Posts were of Abstersive Ebony,  
Though no abstersiveness in Posts we find.  
In Powder ta'en (the Learned not deny)  
It cleanses Choler, and in Pills Breaks wind.   

B.  
Beatifical] blessed  
Barbarity] cruelty  
Bifronted] double-faced  
boisterously] rudely  
Bestial] unmanly  
Burse] Exchange  
Borean] blustering  
Barter] traffic one commodity for another  
Brutish] swinish  
Bottle] apt to be broken  
Bleak] cold  
Blythe] merry or sportive  
Baneful] dest●uctive  
blissful] happy  
Barathrum] Hell  
Bromtus] a name of Bacchus  
Bumpkinly] clownish  
Bordering] near adjoining   

C  
Capacious] witty or apprehensive  
Candid] of a clear temper  
Captions] tetchy or quarrelsome  
Contemp●uou,] undervaluing, or despising  
Concis] brief  
Contemporary] equal in time  
conspiovous] visible  
Commemorate] call to mind a thing past, or party deceased  
Consanguineou] allied by blood  
Confligeate] set on fire  
Cast-gate] chastise, or ce●rest  
Consummate] finish  
coadjutor] fellow Aydar  
Cataracts] fallings of the River Nile in Egypt  
Coroborate] increase in power by a constant addition of strength  
Contemplate] serious thinking  
Completion] finishing  
Combustible] apt to take fire  
Commence] take a degree  
Chalybers'] tamers of steel  
Connexion] joining together   

D  
Delusive] deceitful  
Devastate] lay wast  
Depopulate] destroy a people  
Delineate] make evident at large  
Denude] strip bare  
Dethronize] thrust a lawful King out of his Throne  
Decapitate] behead him  
donor] a Giver  
Donation] by gift  
diabolical] Hellish, devilish, or damnable  
Decollation] beheading  
Dissimulate] hide an intent  
Dislocate] disjoin, or take in pieces  
Debilitated] weakened  
Deride] sceffe at  
Disconsolate] melancholy, sad, or joylisse  
Despicable] worthless, not worth minding   

E.  
Ebriety] drunkenness  
Epicedium] a Funarall Song  
Encomion] gratulary Verses  
Epithalamium] a Marriage Song  
Epigram] a short, but pitby kinds of poesy, very delectable. The best that ever wrote in that kind were, martial, ●nsonine, Owen, Harrington and our famous Ben  
Elegant] neatly phrased  
Elaborate] accomplished style   

F.  
Fallacious] deceitful  
Frontiniack] a kind of Wine very pleasant to the taste  
Fraternity] Brotherhood  
Facetious] smooth, polite  
Fidelious] trusty   

G.  
Garulous] talkative  
Gygantick] big of stature  
Geryon] a Monster with three heads  
Ganymed] Jove's cupbearer  
Garbage] raff, or refuse  
Glaciate] congeal to Ice   

H.  
hiems] Winter  
Hymen] said to be the God of Marriage  
Harrast●●] weakened with tedious toil  
Harpocratos] portrayed with his finger on his mouth; said to be the God of silence  
Hyacinth] a Boy beloved of Phoebus, by him unfortunately stain and turned into a Flower   

I.  
Insaniate] mad out of ones wits  
Infranchise] release  
Invulnerable] not to be wounded  
Implacable] not to be pleased, rude of soul  
Insinuate] flatter himself into friendship  
internal] belonging to abyss  
Irradiate] beautify  
Incorporated] made one  
Indulgent] loving 〈◊〉 ardently than wisely  
Indocible] not to be taught   

K.  
calendar] an almanac   

L.  
Lascivious] given to women  
Loquatious] talkative  
Landgarth] the name of an Amazon  
Laudable] praiseworthy  
Litigious] vain, idle  
Lurk] lie hid  
Laura] the name of a Woman immortalised by the pen of the famous Petrarch  
Lapidary] one that has skill in the virtues of Stones  
Lynceus] said to be so quick sighted that he could pierce through the Globe of the Moon  
Lunacious] Moonish  
Lycanthropia] la Disease causing those that are infected therewith to imagine themselves to be transformed into Wolves   

M.  
Morosity] sourness, sullenness  
maternal] motherly  
Morpheus] said to be the God of Sleep  
Menstruous] putrid, defiled  
Mitigate] lessen the matter   

T.  
tantalise] to view the thing desired, but not being able to attain it  
Tattarus] Hell  
Tarnish] Eclipse or dim a lustre   

V.  
Venereous] sensual, wantonly inclined  
Vituperate] malign, slander, &c.  
Vivacious] lively, lusty, &c.  
Varnsh] wash over rottenness with pleasant colours  
Virago] a masculine woman   

Warlike] addicted to arms, desirous of Military employment   
FINIS.