Wit A SPORTING In a pleasant GROVE OF NEW FANCIES.  
By H. B.  
LONDON, Printed for W. Burden, and are to be sold at his shop in Cannons-street, near London-stone, and by S. L. at the sign of the Book-binders in Shoo-lane, 1657.   

THE AUTHOR, TO THE READER.  
WHen as our English Poets, those happier men  
That can drop wonders from their fluent pena  
Have with their miracles of Poetry  
Feasted thy ears, and satisfied thy eye;  
Then turn aside; and 'mongst the vulgar things,  
Place what my newborn Muse abruptly sings.  
Which though it be but mean (as 'tis confessed)  
'T hath ventured hard to pleas thee, since 'tis pressed:  
If thou smile on it, I shall think my brain  
Hath laboured for this issue not in vain,  
If otherwise thou do contemn my lays.  
My pleasure's more to me, than all thy praise.   

A Pleasant Grove of new Fancies.  
On a lily in his Lady's hand.  
Blessed in thy happy bed fair lily lie,  
To shade thee from the Sun of her bright eye;  
But do not in a wanton pride prefer  
Thyself, as adding whiteness unto her,  
Alas what glory could in thee appear  
So eminent, if not transplanted there?  
But see, thou fadest already, poor proud flower  
Whose fate is limited to one short hour;  
And since thou wouldst for such a beauty vie,  
Thy conquered envy makes thee pale & die.  
Come sit thee down, & with a myslin charm  
Cease my encircled arm,  
Till locked in fast, embraces we discover  
In every eye a lover,  
Then lost in that sweet apostasy of blisses,  
we'll speak our thoughts in kisses.  
In which we'll melt our souls, and mix them so,  
That what is thine or mine, there's none shall know:  
Rare mystery of love, and wondere too.  
Which none but we can do:  
Nor shall the leaden spirits of all those,  
Who speak of love in tame prose:  
Believe our joys: but duly ce●sure us,  
Only for loving thus.  
Ah! how I smile, that doubtly blessed, we do  
Enjoy ourselves, and all their envy too.   

His choice.  
WHat care I though she be fair  
Hair snow-like, or sunlike eye,  
If in that beauty I not share,  
Were she deformed, what care I.  
What care I though she be foul  
Hair, swarthy hand, or sunburnt eye,  
So long as I enjoy her soul,  
Let her be so, why what care I.  
Dim sight is cozened with a glass,  
Of gaudy gown or humorous hair,  
Such gold in melting leave more dross  
Than some unpolished prices share,  
Be she fair, or foul, or either,  
Or made up of all together,  
Be her heart mine, hair, hand, or eye  
Be what it will, why what carel.   

To his Mistress when she was going into the Country.  
YEs, yes, it must be so, but must there be,  
When you depart, no memory had of me,  
My soul being racked as large a distance too  
To meet you there, as I must be from you,  
While the glad spring for joy you shall be seen  
Meet your approach, and clothe herself in green.  
And the fresh morning to salute your rise,  
Bedews the ground from it's o'er joyed eyes,  
For joy like grief, we know, sometimes appears,  
Writ on our cheeks, with characters of tears.  
Go and be happy, go, and when you see  
The trusty Ivy clasp it's much loved tree,  
And with its amorous intwinings cover  
The welcome waste of it's embraced lover:  
Think it our emblem then, and proved to be  
The happy shadow of my love and me,  
Go and be happy, and when some sweet brooks  
(Calm as thy thoughts, and smooth as are thy looks)  
Show thee thy face, then let thy thoughts supply  
And though I be not, think that I am by;  
For if the heart be taken for whole man,  
I must be by thee, be thou where thou can.  
Go and when some pretty birds on some small spray,  
Near to thy window welcome in the day:  
Awake, and think, when their sweet notes you hear,  
I was beforehand, and had sung them there.  
Go, and whate'er thou chance to hear or see,  
Be it bird, or brook, or shade or tree;  
If it delights thee may my soul in it  
Move thy true joys under that counterfeit.  
So, ask not how I do when you are there,  
For at your mercy well or ill I fare  
For now methinks my heart so high doth swell,  
It must enforce a breath, farewell, farewell.   

The Knell.  
When the sad tolling of my bell you hear,  
Think 'tis some Anfels trump, and judgements near,  
Then if but to repent, you take the pain,  
Your judgements past, lie down and sleep again.   

The Perfume.  
Not that I think thy breath less sweet than this,  
Thy breath, in which no pleasant sweets I miss,  
Not that I think thy white, than this less fair,  
Thy white, to which all whites but blackness are:  
Not that I think thy heart, than this less pure,  
Thy heart, which no dull mixture can endure,  
Send I this to thee, but as gold well tried,  
Admits allay when it is purified,  
So by this foil I would to thee in part  
What is thy breath, thy whiteness, and thy  
Thy breath, all perfumes, doth as far out go,  
As doth thy whiteness, the descending snow;  
The snow descends, but by the winds being blown,  
Thy sweetest breath, & whiter snows, ●hine ow●:  
Thy heart less mixed than the sole Phoenix bed,  
Proclaims thee mistress of a maidenhead,  
And so there were no ashes after fire,  
Would that ware conquered in my love's desire,  
But if ●h●re be, why can it not suffice?  
That one being dead another Phoenix rise.  
Thy maidenhead being gone, we still shall prove;  
Both being one unparalleled in love,  
But I have ridd●'d, let me now unfold,  
What is the perfum, what the snow, what gold;  
All this, and each of these, thou know'st thou art,  
And I should know more, did I know thy heart.   

To his Mistress on her scorn.  
Resolve me dearest, why two hearts in one  
Should know the sin of separation.  
Must the sweet custom of our oft stolen kisses,  
Be lost, and we live empty of those blisses:  
Or do the frowns of some old over seer  
Nourish thy fear, or make thy love less steer?  
Why didst thou suffer me those sweets to steal,  
Which but thine own, no tongue can e'er reveal,  
And prompt me to a daring to believe,  
That my sad heart should find no cause to grieve,  
Yet now at last hast mocket my hope so far,  
That I have not a cloud, though meant a star  
Well, take thy triumph, study but to be  
True to thyself, as thou art false to me.  
And thou shalt meet a conquest, yet when I  
Have groaned unto the world my Elegy,  
And thy unjust disdain, perhaps I shall  
Obtain this honour in my funeral.  
Thy poisonous guilt mixed with thy purged breath,  
May make thee wither with me unto death.  
So shall I triumph in my ashes too,  
In that my innocence hath conquered you,  
And then my eye rejoice, in that I have  
Thy scorn, to be a mourner at my grave.   

The Question and Anwser.  

WHen the sad reins of that face  
In i●'s own wrinkles buried lies,  
And the stiff pride of all its grace  
By time un tone, falls slack and dies:  
Wilt not thou sigh, and wish in some vexed fit,  
That it were now as when I counted it.   

And when thy glass shall it present,  
Without those smiles which once were there,  
Showing like some stale monument,  
A scarce departed from its hair,  
At thyself frighted wilt not stare and swear  
That I believed the, when I called thee fair?   

Yes, yes, I know thou wilt, and so  
Pity the weakness of thy scorn  
That now hath humbled thee to know,  
Though fair it was, it is forlorn,  
Loves sweets, thy aged corpse, embalming not  
What marvel if thy carcase beauty rot   

Then shall I live and live to be  
Thy envy, thou my pity; say  
When ere thou see me, or I thee,  
(Being mighted from thy beauty's day)  
'tis he, and had my pride not withered me  
I had, perhaps, been still as fresh as he.   

Then shall I smile and answer: true thy scorn  
Left thee thus wrinkled, slacked, corrupt, forlorn.    

To his Worthy friend and Mistress.  

I charge thee by th●se eyes of thine,  
Give me my heart:  
Those eyes that stole it out of mine,  
I felt the smart.  
And lest the theft you should deny,  
Look where you keep it in your eye.   

And now I have espied it there,  
Thinking to catch it,  
You chain and wind it in your hair,  
But still I watch it  
And so got loose from thence, it flies,  
And sports again upon your eyes.   

Though now to cozen me you seek.  
Thinking to hide  
Yet in the dimple of your check  
I have descried:  
How now discovered it doth skip  
Twixt the soft prison of each lip.   

Yes, yes, I see it stealing, go  
lest I should find it,  
Through the long gallery of s●ow,  
And still I mind it.  
How you have shuffled it between  
Your breasts, not thinking it is seen.   

See, see, I see it creeping in (Near you I fear)  
Through the small crannies of your skin to shelter there.  
As if that veil could cozen me,  
Alas, I know things I not see.   

But if not eye, nor hair, nor cheeks,  
Nor lip, nor breast, nor heart it keeps:  
Give me them all, for every part  
Thou hast, has part of me; my heart.    

To his Mistress.  
While as the locks of time, and smother far  
Than sliding streams skin and tresses are.  
Sweet as Arabian Odours, when in fire  
Their struggling spirits upwards do expire.  
(When as the courteous wi●d doth court our sense,  
And nourish it with sweet intelligence)  
Is thy pure breath; only this difference know,  
That sent is forc'●, but thine is natur●● so  
Soft as the plur●y moss but over spreads  
The tender circle of young Turtle heads,  
Are thy two breasts, which envioust; do swell  
To think that that shou●d this, this that excel:  
And yet ashamed such strife their pride hath bread,  
Both blush and tip themselves with bashful red.  
Typs, locks, streams, odours, down, nor blushes are  
So red, so sweet, so smooth, so fair.   

Anagram.  
I value my Learning,  
Well mayest thou value at the highest price  
That plant and makes the brain a paradise:  
To ●hose rare excellent the gems most bright  
But cloudy are, and solid gold too light.   

Maids and Wives.  
Maids are white papers, which no hand di●bind.  
But Wives are blotted books, and interlind   

A drunken brabbler.  
Who only in his Cups will fight, is like,  
A clock that must be oiled well, ere it strike   

love's Motion.  
Kind Love, whose motion deep affection shows.  
From th' outward sense to th' inward Centre goes.   

On Church bells.  
Some novelists, that conscience most pretend,  
With Caps and surplices themselves offend;  
Others dare rail at other matters else,  
As at the Ring, but few against the Bells:  
Which should they tax, the Ropes would undertake.  
To answer for them, and all quiet make.  
Fool's Paradise, or Reason bewitched.  
— & apta  
Spicula sent nobis puris—  
●●mple as are the Elements unmixed,  
Steadfast as is the earth, whose footing's fixed;  
Untainted like the silver suit of Swan,  
Alone like truth, well ordered like a man,  
Like these in each of these was I, until  
Upon a time, Reason fell ●oule with Will,  
Who backed with sense, that it might battle move,  
Implored the aid of all commanding Love,  
Love by his mother taught, doth soon comply,  
To be an Actor in this treachery.  
The battle's waged, and reason fleye the field,  
While sense and Will to Love the Conquest yield.  
I now, loves subject, am inforclt to do  
What ever his designs commands me to do;  
See, see (quoth he) do you behold that maid,  
Whose equal doth not breathe; and there he stayed,  
To draw fresh air, So quick was he to give  
me notice that I must no longer live,  
In my, own self, but her whom when ● spied,  
Me thought I had been happy to have dy'd  
Since I at once saw severally in one,  
What joined together made perfection.  
This was Florella that bright shining star,  
Who might have caused a second Trojan war,  
Were there a second Paris, for her face;  
The world might strive, but then there sat a grace  
So chaste that might expel each spurious thought,  
Such as foul Helen to her Paris brought▪  
There I might read in my Florella's looks,  
(Such are indeed beauties most perfect books)  
Loves pleasant Lecture where I might espy  
How Cupid once sought entrance at her eye  
Whom she repelled, like snow and chaste and cold  
Could not admit a Sympathy to hold,  
With his hot flames, but melting quite put out  
That ardent fire which warmed her round about.  
Cupid denied of this did backward start,  
And ran for haste to hide him in her heart,  
Where he renewed fresh flames, and by delay,  
So scorched his wings he could not fly away  
Thus force perforce in her my conquered breast  
Is the poor inn of such a god-born guest,  
Whom while I harbour, it is hard to tell  
Whether his presence be a Heaven or Hell.  
Such pleasurable pain, such painful pleasure  
Sometimes below, and sometimes above measure.  
Mars on a time forsook his Venus' bed,  
Protesting he no longer would be led  
To these embraces, which like Circles charms,  
Made him forget th' heroic use of arms.  
Venus heard this while half in anger she  
Did thrust her darling Cupid off her knee.  
Down falls the youngster and in falling so  
Broke all his Arrows, quiver and his bow,  
His grandam Nature pitying the mischance,  
Wipes the wags eyes, told him she would advance  
Him to his former office: for a dart  
That should transfix the most obdurate heart.  
She would create an eye, and for a bow  
She'd make a brow, whose art inclining so,  
Should shoot such shafts, that deity should yield  
Themselves glad prisoners in the maiden field,  
When straight she made Florella, such a maid,  
Who being named, need there ought else be said?  
'Tis not long since that I heard Lovers whine  
At whose deep wounds, which from their Mistress eyen  
They bleeding had ceceiu`d cause they could win  
No mercy from them, whilst I thought some pin  
Had scratched their tender hands, till I too late  
Grew sensible they were unfortunate  
In their lost loves, 'cause when Florella frowned,  
She like a comet struck me to the ground,  
Till she was pleased to clear her glorious eyes,  
Which summoned me from death to life to rise.  
Wherefore you speedy Merchant do you run  
Beyond the bounds of the all-bounding sun,  
To seek for Rubies, pearl, and Ivory,  
Adventuring hazard both of Land and sky,  
When my Florella can afford all this  
Without your search in the tumultuous Seas.  
Rubies and pearl, her lips and teeth, her skin,  
Like hollow Ivory, locks those gems within,  
For which you fondly up and down do room  
When you may better find this wealth at home,  
What would the Northern Climate hold too dear  
To purchase my Florella to live there?  
That where the niggard suit denies to shine,  
They might receive more lustre from her eyen.  
But that I know she loves Religion best,  
She had long since, seen India the West,  
But least those Pagans who adore the rise  
Of the bright sun, should dote upon her eyes,  
She was resolved to stay; woe had I been  
Had she gone thither to increase their sin.  
East India nothing holds that's worth her view,  
There's nothing there, that she can take for new,  
Their aire-persuming spices, precious gum,  
Their fragrant odours, pleasants, Cinamum  
All these and sweeter far, she breathes whose smell  
Doth all things but itself, highly excel:  
Once to my friend I did these lines rehearse,  
Who straightway smiled and did applaud my verse  
But Ah! I fear 'twas my Florella's name  
That bribed his tongue, so to belie my fame.  
Once, and but once I chanc●d to have the sight  
Of my Florella, who makes darkness light:  
When leaden Morpheus did her sense surprise,  
In the locked casket of her closed eyes,  
Fain would I steal a kiss, but as I strove,  
Those scarlet Judges of my sleeping love  
Did swell against my pride, and angry red,  
Charged me stand back from her forbidden bed:  
While they her precious breath did seem to smother.  
Each privately did steal a touch from the other,  
I envious at their new begotten bliss  
Was bold on her soft lips to print a kiss.  
At which she waked: And have you ever seen  
How fair Aurora, heavens illustrious Queen.  
Shakes off her sable Robe, and with a grace  
Smiles in the front of a fair morning face.  
Just so my love▪ as if night had been noon,  
Discards the element of the useless moon:  
And from her glorious tapers sent a fire,  
To light the darkest thoughts to quick desire.  
While thus from forth her rosal gate she sent,  
Breath formed in words, the marrow of content.  
And have you Sir, at such a tempting time  
Bettayd my honour, to this welcome crime,  
By stealing pleasure from me, 'twas thy Love  
I know, that did thee to this trespass move  
For I have proved thy faith which since I find  
The trusty Inmate of a loyal mind,  
Of force I must except it; and in part  
Of recompense, afford thee all my heart,  
Thus having ceased my prize; I told her, sweet,  
As by no fouler name we ere may greet,  
So what is mine I tender, all, myself,  
The poorest part of thy unvalued wealth.  
Thou hast won much in this, thy mercy shown,  
That thus at last thou dost receive thy own  
lest they who after me like fare shall prove,  
Should say, See what it is to be in Love.  
I am i● p●rtu.   

love's apostasy to his friend Mr. E. D.  
Tut, let her go, can I ind●re all this,  
Yet die, to dote upon a maiden's kiss?  
Is there such magic in her looks, that can,  
Into a fool, transfigurate a man?  
Didst thou not love her? true: and she disdain  
To meet thy virtue? let her meet her shame.  
Were she as fair as she herself would be,  
Adorned with all the cost of bravery:  
Could she melt hearts of flint, and from her eye  
Give her beholder's power to live or die.  
I'd rather beg she would pronounce my death,  
Then be her scorn, though that preserved my breath  
Rise heart! and be not fooled; 'sfoot what a shame  
Were it for thee to reincence one flame  
From the declining spark! dost thou not know  
As she's a woman, her whole Sex doth owe  
To thine all honour? her false heart & pride  
Dare not oppose thy faith; then turn high tide,  
And let her (since her scorn doth so disease thee)  
By her repentance strive again to pleas thee.   

The broken-heart-song.  
COunt the sighs, and count the tears,  
Which have in part my budding years;  
Comment on my woeful look,  
Which is now black sorrows book.  
Read how love is overcome,  
Weep and sigh, and then be dumb.  
Say it was your charity  
To help him whose eyes are dry.  
Here paint my Cleora's name,  
Than a hurt, and then a flame;  
Then mark how the heart doth fry  
When Cleora is so nigh:  
Though the flame did do its part,  
'twas the name that broke the heart.  
Peace no more, no more you need  
My sad History to read.  
Fold the Paper up again  
And report to other men,  
These complaints can justly prove  
Hearts may break that be in love.   

Women are men's shadows.  

1.  
FOllow a shadow, it flies you,  
Seem to fly it, it will pursue.  
So court a Mistress, she denies you,  
Let her alone, she will court you.  
Say, are not! women truly then  
Styled but the shadows of us men?   

2.  
At morn and even shades are longest,  
At noon they are, or short or none:  
So men at weakest, they are strongest,  
But grant us perfect, theyare not known.  
Say are not women truly then  
Styled the shadows of us men.    

Women are not men's shadows. E. Contra.  

1.  
THe Sun absented, shadows than  
Cease to put on the forms of men:  
But wives their husband's absent, may  
Bear best their forms (they being away)  
Say, are not women falsely then  
Styled but the shadows of us men.   

2.  
Shadows at morn and even are strong,  
At noon they are, or weak or none:  
Women at Noon are ever long,  
At night so weak they fall along.  
Say, are not women falsely then  
Styled but the shadows of us men?   

3.  
As bodies are contracted, shadows so  
Contract themselves to forms as bodies do:  
Let men be bounded ne'er so close, I wist,  
Women will rove and ramble where they 〈◊〉  
Say, are not women falsely then  
Styled but the shadows of us men?    

An Epigram.  
To himself of his Mistress.  
WHat though thou merit not? why know there lies  
Veiled in the courteous candour of her eyes,  
A saving mercy, that can lend a wing  
For dull despair to mount on, 'tis a thing  
Beyond the common reach, to know how sweet  
He lives, that doth in death a pardon meet.  
But thou art poor; true, but her better part  
Ne'er looked upon the habit, but the heart.  
She that has virtue cannot dote on those,  
Whose best perfection is a suit of clothes.  
Who court th' attracting beauties of the age  
With some coned stuff brought from the Cockpit stage:  
Or gull their Mistress by some poem shown,  
Which, 'cause they paid for, they dare call their own,  
When, if their brains were ransacked, you might know  
They ne'er commenced beyond their crisscross-row.  
Then hope (poor heart) and strongly that she will  
At last embrace thee, for she hath the skill  
To school thee first with frowns, that so her favour  
May, when she smiles, last with the greater savour.   

Another Epigram.  
To his Superlative Mistress.  
COmpare the Bramble to the stately Pine;  
The fruitless Thistle to the virtuous Vine;  
Compare the charcoal to the snow-white Down,  
The wreath of Rushes to th' Imperial crown.  
Compare the Raven to the turtle Dove,  
The Moors of India to the queen of Love.  
Compare the Candle to the splendent Moo●▪  
The fogs of night, to Phoebus' eye at noon.  
Compare the Kite to sweet-breathed Philomela,  
The Lerman Lake to th' heliconian Well,  
If these admit comparison, than she  
That can admit of no equality,  
May find a parallel; but let some men  
Rack their dull brains to praise their Mistress [when  
The utmost of their language they have spen●  
Let them sit down and sigh, and be content  
Their Idols eyes to Sunbeams to compare,  
Or by the rose her blazed lips declare.  
My Mistress must beyond their Saints, survive▪  
In that unequalled height, Superlative.   

Of one Mary Frail, who lay with Mr. Reason.  
marry was long desirous for to marry,  
And vowed that past fifteen she would not tarry;  
I am sure this vow of modesty did sail;  
To quaver on her lips even in her song.  
Or if one touch the Lute with art & cunning,  
Who would not love those hands for their swift running?  
And her I like that with a majesty  
Folds up her arms, and makes low courtesy;  
To leave myself, that am in love with all,  
Some one of these might make the chastest fall:  
If she be tall, she's like an Amazon,  
And therefore fills the bed she lies upon.  
If short she lies the rounder, to say troth  
Both short & long please me, for I love both.  
I think what one undeckt would be, being dressed,  
Is she attired, then show her graces best.  
A white wench thralls me, so doth golden yellow,  
And nut-brown girls in doing have no fellow.  
If her white neck be shadowed with black hair,  
Why so was Leda's, yet was Leda fair:  
Amber trest is she, then on the morn think I  
My Love alludes to every History:  
A young wench pleaseth, & an old is ●ood,  
This for her looks that for her won●●n-hood.  
Nay what is she that any man loves,  
But my ambitious ranging mind approves.   

The new Petition.  
APollo once disdained not to keep,  
So he might keep, his love Admet●● sheep:  
The distaff Hercules did excercise,  
T' extract a smile from his dear Ladies eye●  
Olympic Joan disdained not to take  
A bulls effigies for Eutopus sake:  
Achilles' fit far to deal with steel,  
Did labour for his Mistress at the reel.  
Love spared ●●ander his pledged faith to save  
Died, hugging in his arms the murdering wave.  
Whilst a new death his hero doth devise,  
And drowned herself i'th' Ocean of her eyes  
By Pyramus, the world did understand  
That love and life, lay linked hand in hand.  
When one was lost in This be, the other flew,  
Through the peireed portals of his wound, yet new.  
Which when his This be saw, 'tis hard to say,  
Whose spirit posted fastest on the way.  
Thus some dejection, others did invade  
Great opposition, and have willingly laid,  
Their lives at needless hazard, some have died,  
●nd so have to the utmost satisfied  
●hat tyrant love could force, & beyond this,  
the great and true non ultra fixed is.  
●et happy this, since whatsoever they tried,  
● as on their Mistress part regratified.  
●●h who would, when he saw an equal flame  
●f love in her he loved, owe so much shame  
●s to esteem his life, if her least grief,  
●id but invite his blood for her relief  
●ut this forenamed courteous Ghost can bear  
●●e witness, I have shed full many a tear,  
●poke the best language, rhetoric affords.  
●●mb'd out my heart even to the life in words,  
Would, what they did, did like occasion proffer,  
And till that, do I can no more, but offer.  
And yet for all my sufferings, she that is,  
●f I dare reach to call her so, my bliss,  
●●ights all my sorrows; Oh weat eye could now  
Forbear to yield a tear, when seeing how  
● love, I am neglected weep with me  
All you that read my wrongs, so if you be  
Compationate, perhaps your tears may move  
The frozen Mercy of my ice-white love.  
Which if they do, if you at any time  
Shall want a drop, I'll lend you some mine:  
Methinks I see you weep dear Mistress, th●●  
Behold a Noble sea of pitying men  
Doth waft me to your favour, it you daig●●  
Yes now at last to ease me of my pain,  
This glory shall unto your mercy rise,  
That you have wiped all tears from lovers ey●   

The widow Bride.  
To the accomplished Lady of his thoughts.  
Feeding I famish, fired by the eye,  
Which makes me dying live, and living die.  
Fair shall I name thee, to express thy worth!  
Nay, thou hast something else to set the● forth,  
Then thy external beauty, which no time  
Shall e'er deface, and that is truly thine.  
Though outward white, gra●'d with an inward fair,  
Unite in one, exceedeth all compare.  
For what may glorious Saints, whose divine feature  
Immortalised above an human Creature,  
Appropriate unto themselves save this,  
Though they're invested with the robe of bliss!  
Pure is their Store, the State of innocence,  
Full be their Lamps of divine influence,  
Complete's their A●mour, and their order too,  
Thus they attend the lamb where e'er he go.  
And thou terrestrial Angel, who canst give,  
(Though young) example to the old to live,  
Divines what thou shalt be: for I do see,  
All sacred Craces treasured in thee;  
As in some curious artful cabinet,  
Where Patience shines as a rich ●ewellet  
Set in a precious 〈◊〉, which may be best▪  
Allusion have to thy unspoted breast,  
Where virtues have their Mansion: should ● speak  
More freely of thy Merits? I will seek  
No modern Model to conform the State  
Of my affections, or will imitate,  
Any with affectation, but that grace  
which thou reserves in action, speech & pa●e.  
Honour of ages, what a sympathy.  
Of soul inthroning virtues works in thee,  
To make thee more affected! Where desire  
Of moderation tempers the heat of ire;  
Content all self-repining, and delight  
To see another prosper, that base spite  
Which worldly Moles express from day to day  
In seeing others flourish more than they.  
No, thou art earthly Sainted, & canst taste  
What fruits in Mundane pleasure being past,  
When this same Circle of our human bless  
Quite ran about, shall end with wretchedness;  
And is not this above th' conceit of man,  
That thou the weaker Sex should seem to span  
This abstract of thy life, with such respect  
Unto thy soul formed by that Architect,  
Whose glory is thy aim? Nay, that thy prime  
Scarcely arrived at the freshness of her time,  
Should so disvalue earth, as to bestow  
Thy heart on heaven thy frailer part below.  
Where life like to a shade, whose vading glory  
Sun's up our discontents as in a Story,  
Gets disesteem with thee, fixing thine eye  
Upon a more transcendent empery.  
But that which shall extend thy days more long  
Than time can limit, is thy suffering wrong,  
Smiling at injuries, as if thy breast  
Were of that temper, griefs could not molest,  
Nor soil her glorious Mansion, but appears  
More eminent by th' injuries she bears.  
I've heard indeed, some woman's nature's such  
As they can hardly ever bear too much;  
The sense whereof, howsoever our critics take it,  
May be confirmed in thee; for thou dost make it  
The Trophy of thy triumph, and the crown  
Of all thy conquest, to be only known  
Thyself in thy affliction, where relief  
In Souls sole solace gives receipt to grief.  
For Palms pressed down do ever rise the more,  
And Spices bruised smell sweeter than before:  
So as this sentence verifide may be,  
Thou tries afflion, n●t affliction thee.  
Mirror of women, what a triumphs this,  
When there is nought, how great soe'er it is,  
That can depress thy mind below the Sphere  
Where it is fixed! For 'tis this I swear,  
And only this which moves me to affect  
Thyself far more than any light respect,  
Drawn from the tincture of a moving fair,  
Which to minds beauty's short above compare.  
For I have known the smoothest sleekest skin  
Solid with the blemish of so foul a sin,  
As beauty lost her lustre by that stain,  
Which once made black could ne'er be white again,  
But thou in both complete, art such an one.  
As without assentation there is none  
May glory more of what she doth possess,  
Though on my knowledge none doth glory less.  
And happy he if he had known his hap,  
Who might repose in such a Lady's lap.  
Secure from cenusre; but how weak is sense  
When Reason's darkened through concupiscence.  
Alas of error, that our human eye,  
Exposed to lust and boundless liberty,  
Should derogate from man; where if we knew  
How woman's to expect from man her dew,  
As man from woman; we should straight infer  
` To think of a strange beauty is to err.  
He who did till those flowery fields, which lay  
Like Adonis' grove near to the milky way,  
If he had known what happiness it is  
In mutual love t`injoy a mutual bliss,  
Where two dividuate souls do selfly move  
By one united sympathy in love;  
He would have thus concluded sure I am,  
Who dotes on more then`s own is less than man.  
But now to thee my lines their love extend,  
Making thyself their Centre where they end.  
` Thou mildest mould of matron modesty,  
` Live as thou liv'st, and gain eternity;  
Patience shall give thee convoy, same, renown,  
Both which contend to reach thee triumphs crown.   

The true, and happy state of Love.  
What I have, that I crave,  
Frank I lost, yet Frank I have;  
Happy am I in possessing  
Of her that gives love a blessing:  
Blessed love have earthly rank,  
Stated in my style of Frank,  
Happy style that thinks no shame  
In respect of nature, name,  
Form, affection, and in all  
To be Frank, as we her call.  
Yet so Frank, that though she be  
Free, it's in such modesty,  
As no Creatures are, have been,  
Can, or may tax her of sin.  
Pure in love, sincere in heart,  
Fair by Nature, not by Art.  
Crimson blushes which display,  
Reddest even makes clearest day;  
Clearest, where like Ida's snow  
Lilies on her cheeks do grow;  
Yet so mixed with true delight,  
As the red contends with white;  
Yet or●'comm'd with Modesty,  
Red or white gets victory.  
Thus two Franks in beauty one,  
Yields enough to d●te upon;  
●q●al both in favou, feature,  
honour, order, name and natu●●;  
Both inclining ●o one stature,  
●qua●' by no ear●hly creature.  
●er●if I should paint th●m out,  
From the head unto the 〈◊〉,  
I sh●uld make you there confess  
They were earthly Goddesses:  
And that Nature made these two,  
As those Mirrors which might show  
Her perfection and her store,  
Challenging, who could give morel  
thou▪ both equal in one letter,  
One to either, neither better;  
Twinlike seem as Time had ●ixt them,  
As two sph●res not one betwixt them;  
Yet if needs one t●' best do crave,  
In my thoughts it's she I have:  
She, whose virtues do excel  
As they seem imparallel;  
Modest, yet not t●o precise,  
Wise, yet not cnoceived wise;  
Still in actior, yet her will  
Give being to my vows;  
I will much engage my heart, if when  
I say she's mine, you'll say Amen.  
Such kindness to our true love shown  
Shall bind us doubly then your own.   

A trick for your Learning.  
TWo scholars in Thames-street were drinking hard,  
And late; to whom a Constable repaired,  
And tax●t them for't: Invited yet to drink,  
He turned up glasses, till both nod and win●  
At greatest faults he would; when sleep at last  
Did bridle up his brutish senses fast.  
Mean while the waggish Mercuries conspire  
T'abuse him, and two watermen they hire  
To take him naping, & transport him thence  
Th`way of all fish; who ne'er recovered sense,  
Nor from his dead sleep found himself alive,  
Till both his Charon's at Gravesend arrive.  
To all harsh Magistrates a warning fair,  
That they of too much wine and wit beware.   

The usurer.  
HE puts forth Money, as the Hangman sows,  
His fatal hempseed, that with curses grows.  
So grows his damned wealth in the devil's name,  
That doth in hell the Harvest home proclaim;  
For which deep reason my poor Muse prefers  
This suit, that Poets ne'er prove usurers.   

To a Detractor.  
THou still art darting (like a Porcupine)  
Thy quills against me, saulting every line  
That my hand draws, and with the frostlike power  
Of thy benumbed verse, would nip the slower   

A Complaint of his separation from his Mistress, caused by his fri●nds injunction:  

DEar heart, remember that sad hour,  
When we were forc`t to part  
How on thy cheeks I wept a shower,  
With sad and heavy heart;  
About thy wast my arms did twist;  
Oh! than I sight, and then I kissed.   

Ten thousand fears and joys in one,  
Did such distraction frame,  
As if the liveless world would run  
To Chaos back again.  
Whilst my poor heart amidst these fears,  
Lay bathed in my milk-warm tears.   

Ah than I thought, and thinking wept,  
How friends and fate did lower,  
On thee Leander; how they kept  
Thee from thy hero's Tower;  
While thunder groaned, & heaven did weep  
To rock thy sense in silent Sleep.   

But Fate must unresisted stand;  
Oh who can it oppose?  
Ne●essity`s a Tyrant; and  
No mean in mischief knows;  
Else might my fairer Love and I  
Unseverd live till one did die.   

Just so the hungry in●ant from  
His mother's dug is ●ane,  
When his weak arms yet spread along:  
More dulcet mulk to gain;  
And nothing brings the babe to rest,  
Until he sleep upon her breast.   

Thus being banished from my love,  
And ●ore●t to leave her sight,  
No thoughts but those of her can move  
In me the least delight;  
But like true steel my heart doth pant,  
To touch the long●d ●or Adamant.   

Oh let no storm of discontent  
Be clouded in your brows,  
Dear friends that have my being lent,  
Is so pure it ne'er acts ill;  
Virgin-modest, yet delights  
To discourse of Hymen's rights;  
Yet she blushes when she hears,  
Aught that's light sound in her ears;  
And with scarlet-dye displays  
What to women yields most praises:  
For praiseworthy 'tis in women,  
To blush at that Act is common;  
Since in speech those actions show  
Ill, which modest are to do;  
For a Maid should be afraid,  
Hearing th' loss of maidenhead.  
With this Poem, and a Pearl  
Sent to Frank my faithful girl;  
I conclude with friendly vow,  
To my Frank her neighbours too.    

An elegiac Sonnet.  

If I only had been he,  
●hat had stood so far aloof,  
Or had been such Armour proof,  
Died I had not as you see,  
Shot by woman's jealousy.   

Wretched Woman why should Thou  
Dote so much on Idol beauty,  
Deeming only fit to su●e thee  
When it is not one nor tw●,  
Nor a thousand more will do?   

Yet love loves not these exchanges,  
Love is constant, firm and pure,  
Drawn by no eye-charming lure;  
It is last that only ranges,  
Where new love old love● stranges.   

What is life then but a farm,  
And the best a farmer is  
Of this life he counts a bliss,  
Whree true love sustains no harm,  
Nere engag'● to Fancies charm!   

Of thy sweet poesy. I wish thee show  
More favour to thyself, than thus to blow  
Sparks in thine eyes. Art thou not (slave) afeard  
To pluck a couchant lion by the beard,  
That rouz●d will rend thee? thou but shoot'st in vain  
Thy bolts of folly, that rebound again  
From my unpierced Muse, whose lofty rim  
Shall (Dial-like) stand in the face of time,  
And look it down, when thou and thine shall lie  
Damned up with dust in blind obscurity.    

To the Slanderer.  
COuld I but work a Transformation strange,  
On thee, whose malice pricks & rankles so  
I would thy Carrion to a Thistle change,  
Which Asses bait upon, & rustics mow.   

That he is love sick and cannot write Verses.  

Ettie, it doth not me delight  
Verses as before to write,  
Quite thorough thrust  
With deeply wounding lust.   

●ith lust, the which doth me desire  
●ove all men else to set on fire!  
Or for young boys,  
Or for some female toys.   

This the third winter off ●as tore  
The forests dre●s, since I forbore  
To pine away  
For my Inachia.   

Though town O what a sport was I?  
(For I am shamed at such foolery)  
And I repent  
My feasting-merrimen;   

In which my grief and silent tongue,  
And sighs from my heart's bottom sprung!  
Argued me  
Inamorate to be.   

And mourning to thee, I did cry,  
A poor man's candied ingeny  
Was all but vain  
To stand against her gai●;   

When as, the uncivil power  
Of raging wine, had from its bower  
My secret thought  
With stronger liquer wrough   

But in my breast if free rage boil,  
That to the winds it may assoil  
My sighs ingrate  
Which my sore wound can't b●●   

When my modestness cast by  
Shall give over presently  
To strive so long  
With rivals over strong.   

When (Vexed) I to you had enlarged  
These things, to hie me home being charged  
Along I went  
with fearful impotent,   

To those posts (ah) unkind to me,  
And doors (ah) full of cruelty,  
Where mightily  
My loins and sides bruised 〈◊〉   

Lyciseus love me now doth press▪  
Boasting that he in tenderness  
Does far surpass  
Any young married lass.   

Whence nor the free-spent consultations,  
Nor the rigid increpations  
Of my friends ere  
Me off again shall tear:   

But some other flame, in sooth,  
Of some fair maid or some plucy youth,  
Knitting up fair  
His long grown head of hair:    

The bag of the Bee.  
ABout the sweet bag of a Bee,  
Two Cupids fell at odds,  
And whose the pretty prize should be,  
They vowed to ask the gods:  
Which Venus hearing, thither came,  
And for their boldness stripped them,  
And taking from them each his flame,  
With rods of myrtle whipped them;  
Which done, to still their wanton cries,  
When quiet grown she'd seen them,  
She kissed, and wipeed their dovelike eyes,  
And gave the bag between them.   

To his Mistress.  
Choose me your Valentine,  
Next let us marry:  
Love to the death will pine,  
If we long tarry:  
You have broke promise twice,  
Dear to undo me;  
If you prove faithless thrice,  
None then will woo you.   

His Protestation to his Mistress.  
NOon, day, and midnight shall at once be seen,  
Trees at one time shall be both red and green.  
Summer and winter shall at one time show  
Ripe ears of corn, and up to th' ears in snow:  
Seas shall be sandless, Fields be void of grass,  
Shapeless the world, as when all Chaos was;  
Before my dear sweet Love, I will be  
False to my Vow, or fall away from thee.   

Upon Love.  

LOve scorched my finger, but did spare  
The burning of my heart,  
To signify that love my share  
Should be a little part:   

Little I love, but if that he  
Would but that heat recall,  
That joint to ashes should be burnt,  
Ere I would love at all.    

To his Mistress.  
Show me thy feet, show me thy legs, thy thighs,  
Show me those fleshly principalities;  
Show me that hill where smiling love doth si●  
Having a living fountain under it.  
Show me thy wast, then let me therewithal  
(By the ascension of thy lawn) see all.   

On himself.  
LOve-sick I am, and must endure  
A desperate grief that finds no cure:  
●h me! I try, and trying prove  
No herbs can cure the power of Love:  
Only our sovereign salve I know,  
And that is death, the end of woe.   

To the Virgins to make much of time.  

GAther your rosebuds while you may,  
Gold time is still a-flying,  
And that same flower that smiles to day,  
To morrow may be dying.   

The glorious lamp of heaven, teh●sn  
The higher he's a getting,  
The sooner will his race be run,  
And nearer to his settin●   

That age is best which is the First,  
When youth and old are warmer,  
And being spent, the worse and worst  
Times still succeed the former.  
Then be not coy, but use your time,  
And while you may go marry,  
For having lost but once your prime,  
You may for ever tarry.    

Upon Cupid.  
AS lately I a garland bound,  
'Mongst Roses I there Cupid found,  
I took him, put him in my cup,  
And drunk with wine, I drunk him up.  
Hence than it is that my poor breast  
Could never since find any rest.   

Upon her breasts.  
DIsplay thy breasts (my Dear) there let me  
Behold that circummortal purity,  
Between whose glories there my lips I'll lay,  
Ravished in that fair Via Lactica.   

Upon himself.  
Mope-cyed I am, as some have said;  
Because I've lived so long a maid,  
But grant that I should wedded be  
Should I a jot the better see?  
No, I should think that marriage might  
Rather than mend, put out the light.   

Draw-Gloves.  
AT Draw-gloves we'll play,  
And prithee let's lay  
A wager, and let it be this,  
Who first to the Sun  
Of twenty doth run,  
Shall have for his winning a kiss.   

To the Rose.  

Go happy rose and enterwoove,  
With other flowers bind my love,  
Tell her too she must not be  
Longer Loving, long free  
That so oft hath fettered me.   

Say if she's fretful, and I have bands  
Of Pearl and Gold to bind her hands,  
Tell her if she struggle still  
● have myrtel Rods at will,  
●or to tame, though not to kill.   

Take thou my blessing; thus go  
And tell her this, but do not so.  
●est a handsome anger sly  
●ik a lightning from her eye,  
And burn thee up as well as I.    

How Violets came blue.  
LOve on a day, wise Poets tell  
Some time I wrangling spent,  
Whether the Violets should excel,  
●or she in sweetest scent:  
But Venus having lost the day,  
Poor girls she fell on you,  
And beat ye so, as some do say,  
Her blows did make ye blew.   

Counsel not to love.  
HE that will not love must be  
My scholar, and learn this of me:  
There be in love as many fears  
As the summer's corn hath ears.  
Sighs and sobs, and sorrows more  
Than the sand that makes the shore.  
Freezing cold and fiery heats,  
Fainting swoons and deadly sweats,  
Now an ague, than a fever,  
Both tormenting Lovers ever.  
Wouldst thou know besides all these.  
How hard a woman 'tis to please?  
How cross, how sullen, and how soon  
She shifts and changes like the Moon.  
How false, how hallow she's in heart,  
And how she is on her left part:  
How high she's prized, and worth but small  
Little thou'lt love, or not at all.   

On the Willow-tree.  

THou art to all lost love the best,  
The only true plant found,  
Wherewith young men and maids distressed,  
And left off love are crowned.   

When once the lover's rose is dead,  
Or laid aside forlorn,  
Then willow-garlands about the head  
Bedeaved with tears are worn.   

When with neglect the lover's bane  
Poor maids rewarded be  
For their love lost, their only gain  
Is but a wreath from thee.   

And underneath thy cooling shade  
When weary of the light,  
The love-spent youth, and love-sick maid  
Come to weep out the night.    

To his Mistress to command him any thing.  

BId me to live, and I will live,  
thy servant for to be;  
Or bid me love, and I will give  
A loving heart to thee.   

A heart as soft, a heart as kind,  
A heart as sound and free  
As in the whole world thou cast find,  
That heart I'll give to thee.   

Bid that heart stay, and it will stay,  
To honour thy decree;  
Or bid it languish quite away,  
And it shall do it for thee.   

Bid me to weep, and I will weep  
While I have eyes to see:  
And having none, yet I will keep  
A heart to weep for thee.   

Bid me despair, and I'll despair  
Under that Cyprus tree,  
Or bid me die, and I will dare  
Even death to die for thee.   

Thou art my life, my love, my heart,  
The very eyes of me:  
And hast command of every part  
To live and die for thee.    

A hymn to Venus.  
GOddess I do love a girl  
Ruby-lipt', and toothed like Pearl,  
If so be I may but prove  
Lucky in this maid I love,  
I will promise there shall be  
Myrtels offered up to thee.   

The good night to the Bride▪  
BLessings in abundance come  
To the Bride, and to her groom,  
May the Bed this short night  
Know the fullness of delight:  
Pleasures may here attend you,  
And ere long a boy Love send you.  
Curled and comely, and so trim,  
Maids in time may ravish him:  
Thus a dew of graces fall  
On you both; goodnight to all.   

The Willow-Garland.  
A Willow-garland thou didst send  
Perfumed last day to me,  
Which did but only this portend,  
I was forsook by thee:  
Since it is so, I'll tell thee what,  
To morrow thou shalt see  
Me wear the Willow after that,  
To die upon the tree.   

To a tell-tale.  
Thy glowing ears, to hot contention bent,  
Are not unlike red herrings, broiled in Lent.   

To Baull, the crier.  
In thy rude Parish (as thou dost profess)  
Thou'rt like the Baptist in the wilderness:  
Yet ere for conscience off thy head should go,  
T●ou wouldst not cry oyez, but roar out  
No.   

On deaf Joan, the alewife.  
the prates to others, yet can nothing hear,  
Just like a sounding jug that wants an ear.   

To Zounds the Swaggerer▪  
What dost thou mean to revel, roar, ar● spend▪  
To drink, and drabble, and swear so? wil● thou rend  
Thy way to Hell? The Devil will spy day  
At a small hole, and snatch his Chuck away.   

To the same.  
What Gulf's within thee, that thou swallowest so?  
It is to drown all thirsts before thou go  
To that infernal hat-house? such a ground▪  
Of reasons deeper than I list to sound.   

To his Mistress.  

WHat conscience say is it in thee  
When I a heart had one  
To take away that heart from me,  
And to retain thy own:   

For shame and pity now incline  
To play a loving part,  
Either to send me kindly thine,  
Or send me back my heart.  
Covet not both; for if thou dost  
Resolve to part with neither,  
Why yet to show that thou art just,  
Take me and mine together,    

On Love.  
I Held love's head while it did ache,  
And so it chanced to be  
The cruel pain did him forsake,  
And forthwith came to me,  
Ah me, how shall my grief be stilled,  
Or where else shall we find,  
One like to me who must be killed  
For being too too kind.   

To his Mistress.  

'tis evening, my sweet, & dark, let us meet,  
Long time we have been a trying;  
And never as yet, that season could get,  
Wherein to have had an enjoying.   

For pity or shame, then let not loves flame,  
Be ever and ever a spending;  
Since now to the Port the path is but short,  
And yet our way has no ending.   

Time flies away fast, our hours do waste,  
The while we never remember,  
How soon our life here, grows old with th●● yeer●  
That dies with the next December.    

The Fairies.  
IF ye will with Mab find grace,  
〈◊〉 Set each platter in its place;  
Rake the fire up, and get  
Water in ere Sun be set:  
Wash your pales, and cleanse your Daries,  
●uts are loathsome to the Fairies;  
Sweep your house, who doth not so  
●●ab will pinch her by the toe.   

Cherry-Pit.  
Julia and I did lately sit  
Playing for sport at Cherry-pit,  
●●e threw, I cast, and having thrown,  
● got the pit, and she the stone.   

To Robin redbreast.  
When I'm led out for dead, let thy last kindness be  
With leaves and moss-work for to cover me:  
And while the wood-nimphs my cold corpse inter,  
Sing thou my Dirge sweet warbling Chorister,  
For Epitaph in ●oliage next write this,  
Here, here the tomb of William Redley is.   

His Vision to his Mistress.  
I dreamed we both were in a bed  
Of Roses almost smothered;  
But than I heard thy sweet breath say,  
Faults done by night will blush by day;  
I kissed thee (panting) and I call  
The night to record, that was all;  
But ah! if empty dreams so please,  
Love give me more such nights as these.   

Charon and Philomel, A Dialogue sung.  PHIL. 
CHaron, O gentle Charon, let me woo thee  
By tears and pity now to come unto me:  Ch. 
What voice so sweet & charming do I hear;  
Say ●hat thou art;  Ph. 
I prithee fi●st draw near:  Ch. 
A sound I hear, but nothing yet can see;  
Speak where thou art:  Ph 
O Charon pity me,  
I am a bird▪ and though no name I tell,  
My warbling note will say, I'm Philomela.  Ch. 
What's that to me? I love not ●ish or fowls,  
Nor ●ea●ts f●nd bird, but only human souls.  Ph. 
Alas for me:  Ch. 
Shame on thy witching note  
That made me thus hoist sa●l, & bring my boat;  
But I'll return, what mischief brought me hither?  Ph. 
A deal of love, & much grief tog●ther.  Ch. 
What's thy request?  Ph. 
Tha● since she's now beneath,  
Who fed my life, I'll follow her in death.  Ch. 
And is that all? I'm gone:  Ph. 
By love I pray thee.  Ch. 
Talk not of love; all pray, but few souls pay me.  Ph. 
I'll give the vows and tears. Ch. Can tears pay scores  
For mending sa●ls, for patching boat and oars?  Ph. 
I'll beg a penny, or I'll sing so long,  
Till thou shalt say, I've paid thee with a song.  Ch. 
Why then begin, and all the while we make  
Our slothful passage on the Stig●an Lake;  
Thou and I'll sing, to make these dull shades merry,  
Who else with tears would doubtless drown my Ferry.   

To his Mistress.  

I could but see thee yesterday  
S●ung by a fretful Bee,  
And I the jave in snatched away,  
And healed the wound in thee.   

A thousand thorns, and briars, and stings  
I have in my poor breast,  
Yet ne'er can see that salve which brings  
My passions any rest,   

●s love shall help me, I admire  
How thou canst sit and smile  
To see me bleed, and not desire  
To stench the blood the while.   

If thou composed of gentle would,  
Art so unkind to me;  
What dismal stories will be told  
Of Trose, that cruel Bee.    

To his Mistress, on the daybreak.  

By the next kindling of the day,  
My Julia, thou shalt see,  
Ere I've Marry thou canst say,  
I'll come and visit thee.   

Yet ere thou counsellest with thy glass,  
Appear thou to mine eyes,  
As mooth an: nak'● as she that was  
The Prince of Paradise.   

If blush thou must, then blush thou through  
A lawn that thou Mayest look  
As purest pearls and pebbles do,  
When peeping through a brook.    

Stoolball.  

At stoolball, Lucia, let us play  
For sugar, cakes, and wine;  
Or fo● a tansy let us pay,  
The loss be thine or mine.   

If thou, my Dear, a winner be  
At trundling of the Ball;  
The wager thou shal● have, and me,  
And my misfortunes all.   

But if my Sweetest I shall get,  
Than I desire but this;  
That likewise I may pay the bet,  
And have for all a kiss.    

The maypole.  

The maypole is up,  
Now give me the cup,  
I'll drink to the Garlands around it:  
But first unto those  
Whose hands did compose  
The glory of flowers that crowned it.   

A health to my Girls  
Whose husbands may Earls  
Or Lords be, granting my wishes:  
And when that ye wed  
To the Bridal bed,  
Then multiply all like to fishes.    

To his Mistress.  
Thou sayest, Thou lovest me▪ I say no:  
But would to Love I could believe 'twas so.  
Pardon my fear (Swee●) I desire  
That thou b● righteous found, and I the liar.   

Charms.  
Bring the holy Crust of bread,  
Lay it underneath the head;  
'tis a certain charm to keep  
Hogs away, while children sleep.   

Another.  
Let the superstitious wife  
Near the child's heart lay a knife;  
Point b● up, and hast he down,  
While she gossips in the Town.  
This `mongst other mystic Charms  
K●eps the sleeping child from h●rms.   

Another, to bring in the Witch.  
To house the hag you must do this,  
Commix with meal a little piss  
Of him bewitched, the forthwith make  
A little wafer, or a Cake;  
And this rawly ●ak`d will bring  
The old Hag in, no sur●r thing.   

Another Charm for Stables.  
Hang up hooks and shears to scare  
Hence the hag that rides the Mare  
Till they be all over wet  
With the mire and the sweat;  
This obseru`d, the Mains shall be  
Of your horses all knot free.   

Upon Cupid.  

Love like a beggar came to me  
With hose and d●blet torn,  
His shirt bedangling from his knee,  
With hat and shoes outworn.   

He asked an alms, I gave him bread  
And meat too for his need.  
Of which when he had fully fed  
He wish`t me all good speed,  
Away he went but as he turned  
In faith I know not how,  
He touched me so, as that I burn,  
And am tormented now,  
Loves silent flames and fires obscure,  
Then crept into my heart,  
And though I saw no bow, I me sure  
His finger was the dart.    

A Vow to Venus.  
HAppily I had sight  
Of my dearest Deer last night;  
Make her this day smile on me,  
And I'll Roses give to thee.   

Charms.  
THis I'll tell you by the way,  
Maidens when ye Leavens lay,  
Cross your Dough, and your dispatch  
Will be better for your batch.   

Another.  
In the morning when you rise,  
Wash your hands and cleanse your eyes,  
Next be sure ye have a care  
For to throw the water far;  
For as far as that doth light,  
●o far keeps the evil spirit.   

Another.  
If ye fear to be affrighted,  
When ye are by chance benighted,  
In your pocket for a trust  
Carry nothing but a crust;  
For that holy piece of bread,  
Charms the danger, and the dread.   

St. Distaffs day, or the morrow after twelve day.  
PArtly work, and partly play,  
Ye must on St Distaffs-day.  
From the Plow soon free your team,  
Then come home, and father them:  
If the maids a spinning go,  
Burn the Flax, and fire the tow;  
Scorch their Plackets, but beware  
That ye sing no maidenhair;  
Bring in pales of water then,  
Let the maids bewash the men;  
Give St Distaff all the right,  
Then bid christmas-sport good-night;  
And next morrow every one  
To his own Vocation.   

On Poets.  
These Darlings of free Nature want no vigour  
Of brain, and therefore to grow richer liker  
Than weaker heads, and might be blessed with Angels,  
(For which the soldier fights, and Lawyer wrangles)  
Did not their lofty ●ancies 'bove the welkin  
Still sore, whilst others are▪ ●or Treasures dilving  
But fle, my verse is foundered, all this time.  
I dream●d on riches, I but raved in ●ime.   

Of war.  
War's like a cursed wife, whence a man may cull  
Some fruits of goodness, (though of mischief ●ull:)  
For those land-surfefs wanton peace both breed,  
War by incision cures, when Kingdoms bleed.   

On Joseph's cloak.  
The Snake his slough, the Dove her plumes cast,  
(Whose innocence & purdence hold we fast  
As Joseph left his garment, yet retained  
A jewel, which once lost is ne'er regained.  
Thou stone-cold chastity far off doth fly,  
And Lust assumes the cloak of modesty.   

DREAMS.  

The first Dream.  
WEnt I this Morn in cruel sport  
To fright the poor Hare from her fort?  
Vp-rouse her from the solemn Cel  
With horrors of a Fun'ral-Knel?  
Did Tyrant-I seek others' prize?  
Myself now made the Sacrifice?  
Fates, you are equal, and thou ●ove,  
Like mercy I [just Talio] prone  
As meant to others; Torture, Pain,  
Dire scourge! 'tis my reward again.  
'Twas she the huntress was, by th'way,  
That ayr'd her so, like beauteous May,  
(Her Mistress rather) round bestowing  
Such beauty's sweets; dull winter showing  
fresh-cheeked turned summer. O, what raie●  
Then struck our eyes? what wonders blaze  
Sweet'st, Lightnings? what soul rapes, divin●  
Confusions? that th'o'erfolowing shine  
Spak't Heavenly Vision: if earth's race,  
Then Wom●n, lovelyst woman 'twas;  
Or rare I know not-What: she's ●●ll  
Men ●xcellenc perfection call  
He●●●y shot daylight Beam-supplyes,  
While ●h Sun cloud muffled seemed, close lies  
ashamed on's gaudier blazing so,  
Those Co●p-rayes to hers in show;  
Or't may be Love- 〈◊〉 feared, lest he  
By th'jealous Man forsaken be;  
Or, indeed struck, with amorous head  
Jogd on, and so went sick to Bed:  
The World not needing beg th'old Sun  
Since they in her have two for one.  
No crystal frost-work decked the ground  
T'entice her foot, whose Beamings round  
That Mor● dispersed, perhaps ore-awd  
The glazed Earth, Congelations thawd:  
Her Pace Court-measure, gracefulest showed  
While th' spiced air through her breath ●or good,  
Purged wholesome seemed: as Gobl●●s light,  
F●g● shun her Puerity, take flight.  
Ten thousand C●pids came along  
Playing in her Eyes, her cheeks, or hung  
O'th' breast, Lips, hair; encamped appear  
In Bright and loveliest Musters there;  
As with their quivered host would pierce  
All Hearts, and conquer th'Vniverse:  
A moving world of wonder showing;  
A Heaven of flesh all ●oyes bestowing.  
'twas fairely-sweetly cruel she  
That chased and seized my liberty:  
That let a M●nt of lightnings ●ly  
Heap of Granadoes from her Eye,  
Dart-magazine that shot through mine;  
I saw their flaming point to shine  
All th'way they came, when through that Eye  
Th' Heart bled in kindest sympathy:  
I Sigh, Fca, Muse; what wonders press  
Through these glazed Organs, Souls possess!   

On Phillis Close Nun-like Retirement.  
SAy beauteous Fillis why's so long  
Adjournd our daybreak till all's slung  
With Greenland-curse? O why (●ole-fashion)  
poor we on Clods, this dull Creation  
Thou our Gem hid? with whom's enshrine,  
The longings, blisses of Mankind:  
Is't for our sins, that righteous Heaven  
Hath us this Plague 'mongst others Given.  
This judgement sent (ala●) that we  
Mus● lose thy Presence, and want Thee?  
Or did we too profanely slight  
That bl●ssing, meanly rate thy Sight  
Enjoyed? when thou (more justly-nice)  
By nant dost please t' inhanceyth Price:  
An angry absence must alone  
Make thee more reverenced, and moreknown.  
Or last; was't Charity divine  
T' our errors, frailties, did confine  
Thee to thy Chamber, Prayers t' implore  
And atone for us? O restore  
That Face back, fair Example t' us;  
We shall grow good, less criminous.  
Rare ●e●uties were not made at all  
For cloystring, and live-burial,  
Though Bats, Owls be: those glorious Seve●  
The unwasted Lamps of Earth and Heaven.  
(Sky-brooches) lo, they were not thrust  
To corners, log● d in Rubbish, dust,  
But shine to th'world, and traverse by  
spheres blazing P●geants: whilst hid lie  
(Earth-chested) Gold, Gems, where's thei● glory:  
Sight's all; that magnifies thy story.  
Sometime 'tis wholesome, purest Maid▪  
To air thee through the field and shade;  
When from some Hill fayr-maped does lie  
Small Europe, travail●d by thine Eye:  
And th'amazd People gazing round,  
As though another Morn were found.  
For as through sight thou physickest us:  
And our dross-spirits refinest thus  
To subtle Fire this Earth air grown,  
Pure ●uintessentiall: whilst (anon)  
The Bloods too revel't in each vein  
So thou dost physic thyself again.  
Mays Sovereign, delicious air,  
'tTwill make that Cheek more snowy-fair  
(If possible,) those breasts of spice  
Thus fanned more, Beds of paradise:  
'twill make that angel-shape to strike  
Our eyes with motion Angel-like,  
Quick, sprightly; improve that dayntiest Frame  
So lively, as if all Soul became:  
Then show thee oft dear Cordial; thus  
Thou physickst both thyself and us.   

Phillis Nun-like Coyness.  
PHILLIS, fairest, why so coy  
So dainty-nice? when but t'enjoy  
One favour such a task doth prove,  
Herculean Labou●: tell me Love;  
What though that daint●er Hand touch mine,  
(Of spo●less Allablaster-shine)  
will't show less fair, and sullied be?  
Or lose the fashion, if by me  
But kindly pressed? though never I  
Their sacred white do come so nigh  
But with washed hands, nor touch their Down  
But reverential fear does crown  
The Devout Palm: your Glove all day  
May freelier touch; your Seizers may,  
Silk, needle, lawn, nay, meaner thread:  
Then is my Hand more vile indeed  
Then these? or say, you purify  
Those things by Touch, like chemistry  
May these course hands sublime, refine.  
Or say those dayntier Lips touch mine,  
Are they impoverished in their store?  
Or wast their Delicates the more  
By often giving [since they are  
A lasti●g sweetness] or less fair,  
Ought●ose their colour Ruby excelling?  
The more they're kiss`d, more red and swelling.  
The wanton air with 〈◊〉 play  
May touch them, and the tawny Ray  
Of Phoebus' Toys, which often pleas●;  
Then are my 〈◊〉 more base than these?  
The Fly may buzzing kiss, ●nd touch  
[Unblam`d] those Cherries; min`s ●ut such.  
` 〈◊〉, can you ch●de and frown when I  
[Nigh staru`d] do beg the chari●y  
Th' Al●s of o● kiss? 'twas never yet  
Held sin for Starv●lings to crave meat;  
That`s free: would you not life bestow  
Where yourself n●re the poorer grow?  
N●y sweetest, w●r`t love-●elish`d, this,  
You would seem richer by a kiss:  
Love`s first-course, second Min●age 'tis.   

The second Dream.  
'twas fresh-cheeked May with all her pride  
And Progress bravery beauti●i● d;  
〈◊〉, perfumes, and ●ems of price,  
To take that s●xe more dainty, nice,  
When 〈…〉- World (late sullen) now  
〈…〉 all, stampd one whose brow  
〈…〉 when frozed Men  
(Not snails alone) seem● d Live again:  
Forth went the nymph, whose eyes fair ray  
Had 〈◊〉 turned to May,  
And spru●'t the poor-clad earth howe'er  
With flowers, though Flora banished the year:  
Forth Phillis tripped; whilst I alone  
Engrossed the blessing, th'honour won  
T' attend her Walks chief favourite,  
Sole Guardian to my soul's delight:  
Cal● d by her as if Heaven had called  
To joys, wherein blessed Saints installed,  
(Who would not glory?) Champion thence  
To weak, yet purest Innocence:  
For well my PHILLIS knew that I  
Would not hurt, but protecting die;  
And (though, Temptation all, her shape)  
Would punish, not commit a Rape.  
Thus, though no morningstar am borne,  
Yet was I usher to the Morn;  
Or rather Sun-companion show,  
Whose hand enriched mine with its snow.  
nought envying now Great Turk; Mogor,  
Tartarian China●bugbear or  
Black Southern Prince; thus septered I  
Durst boast a fairer Monarchy.  
Each Object as we tracked below,  
With rival-courtship seemed to woe  
My Heavenly Fair; and bred in me  
A kind of sportive jealousy:  
Birds chant lovesongs, Gales whisper soft  
Kind tales, steal kisses, whilst (methought)  
Herbs, Flowers hung their love-sick heads,  
Or bowed with reverence from their beds:  
Hills animated seemed rejoice;  
And (wanton) ●●cho back her Voice:  
O pregnant Soul say, what does prove  
So all breeding as that Womb of Love?  
Here, whilst I sacrific●d chaste Vows,  
Sigh- 〈◊〉, (made unspotted those  
Blessed Hands the altars) ●either care  
Thus PHLI●IS breath●d; O, breathed sounds were  
Seraphic music! (words' be gone  
That poor Term) Thus she seemed to own—  
Hold Fondling, don't expose abroad  
Such sweetness to ●h' airs common Road;  
Bewise: th' Harmonious touch o'th' spheres  
Not music is the Vulgar ears:  
Repeat the Blisses to thine own;  
Tell Venus, or Loves-self alone:  
And feed you liquorish ears, (Revived  
Your dear joys,) Fancy makes new-lived:  
Whilst Cupid scores up all, each word  
(Th'Hour, Minute) in's chaste love's Record.   

PHILLIS her Lute.  
Sighed, Smelling, Tasting, Feeling, all be gone;  
And leave with me th'officious ear alone:  
Go Slumber, (or th`whole Covent) loiterers play;  
Thou only attend (Souls Favourite) this way:  
Bless, bless thyself and me, till seem translaed  
To new divine joys, by that Hand-Created.  
List, list with reverence; devoutly O  
harken; th' Orbs Minstrelsy`s sham`d here below:  
While PHILL●S gives Life to her sencless Lute,  
And warbling language to what late was mute.  
Hark, what delicious strains and Heavenlyrare  
Do as 'ttwere sweeten, and enrich the air!  
Phoebean Ha●●s Great Master finds his skill  
Scorned by th' ` Olympics, and but slighted still  
When thou once playest; all listening unto thee;  
T`whom mean hands like to Winds rude blustrings be,  
Or th'note of bubbling Brooks: All music is  
Untuned harsh Discord, and but noise to This.  
Away all dumpish cares, all pulling sorrow,  
[You Cloud-drove] fly my world, pack till the morrow;  
Let me forget I`m Earth, or burdened am  
With dross of flesh, but t` Elemental flame  
Seem rarifi`d turn`d Spirits (air does show  
Poor, languid) dance my blood; your veins o'erflow  
In g●ad tides; whilst those high'st Soul-faculties  
Frame all a Masque: that Lute Soul-revels please.  
O, there`s a sweetly, sweetly-solemn strain  
Has laid all in a slumbering trance again.  
And charmdall to amazement; view but round  
How strange a Metamorphosis there's found;  
Men stand by th' Walls, and furnish out the Room  
Like Arras-pictures, or as to some Tomb  
Belong`d for Monuments; whilst only flies  
A glimpse of Life or Twilight from their Eyes:  
All`s turned a sepulchre, so whist and dead  
A silence reigns; the sweet death welcomed:  
O, let me thus expire and melt away  
To dissolution, Nature that Debt pay  
of Vapour-breath, that else a boiling fever,  
Stone, poison, sturdy Cout, or stab might sever:  
Sweet killing PHILLIS, thus the soul to stray  
To Heaven `twete t` have Heaven by the way:  
Such death were but to live; the Gasps to this  
Ore-ravishing Delights, too powerful bliss:  
And then I die a Martyr by thy ha●●,  
Though not in wrath, but [spite of countermand]  
As fleeting souls last farewell must kiss  
That beauteous Hand, first Fool! All's spoilt by this.   

PHILLIS Hand and Glove.  
FAir Phillis, my ambitious Muse  
Through its aspiring zeal w●'d ho●se  
Rather to charm thy hand then Glov●,  
Court that Diviner form, my Lov●;  
T'whom Snow with th'Alablaster mine  
Great Style of Whiteness only assign:  
Where azure streams in purling measure  
Make Cupid's Isles and Place of pleasure.  
But this eclipses vails their light,  
And pleads Commission for't; worse spite;  
Whilst [cased up] beautcous they appear  
Like sacred twinlike relics there:  
Worth 'bove all Rome's; like cloysterd Nun,  
Or silver Orb involved Moons:  
Not naked to each unworthy eye  
Or the sun's bolder kisses lie,  
[Sight fittest for King] but then divest,  
Break forth like morn's their dusky East,  
When silk and gold as touch more fine;  
Some Needle-Miracle design;  
where laid to th' eye small new Creation,  
Birds, Beasts so near inanimation;  
So true that nature's self does start;  
Half mothering that mere Child of Art:  
Mocked by this landscape, ●ye mistakes  
For her own work th' Hills, Plants, and Lakes.  
Sweetest recluse-pair! you meanlier-choice  
Beauties triumph it now, rejoice,  
Let coorser Hands now boldly show,  
Seek t'enamour with worse Snow.  
Your Gloves kind pardon, if I seem  
Transported here with what's their Gem,  
Chief Riches, Glory; wherefore spite  
Should not ore-long debar my sight:  
Since I love these too, even in this  
Fine, P●ittyest, winning beauty is;  
Both as itself, and as '●is thine:  
So dainty-shaped, Symmetrick, fine,  
Pure-white withal, that i● might stand  
A rude-drawn Picture to that hand:  
Wherein (methinks) breathe highest sweets  
Whose sublimation Juno fits:  
This Pattern seems for the best of gloves  
(As that for hands) like th' Queen of Leves.  
O Cupid wouldst ordain that I  
Under that form might hug so nigh  
That loved Hand; [miraculous feat!]  
But ah, I fear my Youthful Heat,  
Sighs soft-breathed whispers, joyful Dance  
Oth' panting-Heart, than colder Trance  
With fervent raven us kisses, soon  
Would blab the Cozenage; all undone:  
W en I'm cashired eternally:  
Whereas that favourite-glove laid by  
Recloaths that Beauty; exalted is  
To its late Paradisiah Bliss.   

His third Dream of FILLIS Evening Walk and Voice.  
FIllis and I (O, fondly'st-kind,  
Indulgent Stars! thus still you bind;)  
Fillis and I in Evening fair  
Stole forth to take the Garden-air;  
That sweetest and mildest age of Day,  
When Sun does sprinkle a kinder Ray;  
Nor begets headache, whilst Goodnight  
Sends from Far-West with drowsy light  
The Morn, That, placed like pauses sweet  
'Tween th'Aguish fits of Cold and Heat.  
Those harmless Gales were only straying  
Which dance the leaves with nicer playing,  
Nor whisper, whilst with kind of bliss  
Mays Flowry beauteous strangers kiss  
In sign of welcome: toiling oft  
With Fillis curls; when used (methought)  
Reverence too, least through its sin  
One curl disturbed, or spoilt had been.  
Th'Ayrs Concave stilled to quiet rest  
Like Fillis gentle maiden-breast.  
Who, masked and vail●d, (that else had soon)  
Travers●d a gloomy Thick designed  
With Love-maze labyrinth, where enshrined  
Th'world's beauty appeared: 'twas ambushplot  
To bear the Nightingales small throat,  
High●st, stronged to boot; (that, prais to be  
The Shades prime Songster, harmony)  
With rest o'th' Noise, who begun,  
As if tothth' then departing Sun  
Would chirp a merry shrill Goodnight,  
And so long sing as he gave Light:  
Which heard (the fine mirth jollity)  
To smiling, pleasure, by and by  
Fillis puts in toth'warbling choir:  
Fair Goddess lo, which seemed t'inspire  
Those little creatures with their skill;  
Who now chant Anthems t'her praise still:  
The ruder Place seemed Chaos-wise  
Turned to a new dressed paradise,  
Earth-Heaven, so well that face and tongue  
Might to sweet Cherubins belong.  
God's (Wrapped, with joy o'th' creation)  
th'ffairs divine held strait Vacation,  
Breaking Heavens Parliament asunder  
To see, to hear this Mortal wonder,  
(The air traced in measures) while cros-armd  
Some sat, enamoured showing, Love-charmd;  
Consulting all her soon translation  
From this base earth to th'starry station  
As their Quires Mistress, while She-powrs  
Or prais●d, or envied from their towers,  
Wood-satyres skipping wildly round:  
This mask at least my Fancy found.  
Lo th'All of Rapture, sweets how high!  
Best joys the ears capacity  
Could reach to, only those above,  
The dear Soul-melting Sounds of Love.  
Her Lute was rare though dead the sound,  
This living therefore rarer erownd:  
That, was but hollow Timbers noise,  
This, sweet, warm, lovely woman's voice:  
Religion swayed, else I had nigh  
Been guilty of Voice-Idolatry.   

FILLIS and the Nightingale.  
RAre charming Voice! but [O] how rare  
Breathed by that She so only fair!  
Whose face and bodies beauties be  
Composed with so rare Symmetry  
(Heavens choice design) so sweetly accorded,  
One Heavenly Consort all afforded,  
And were the Harmony o'th' Eye,  
Seemed nature's silent Melody:  
Ne'er man so doubly-blessed; th' eye, ear!  
Record it Love, 'twas only here.  
Each trembling note those Corals wrought  
(When born) seemed swaddled, wrapped methought,  
And (as soon dying) embalmed within  
So sweet breath, as perfum'ded had been;  
Came flying in a precious air  
Of odours, 'bove Arabian far:  
The same sweet notes you would have deemed  
The several souls of music seemed;  
whilst the whole Song rare sweet'st compound,  
wherein th'Ear's Sugar, Sytrop found.  
O could I've caught and kept alive  
Those precious sounds beyond reprieve  
Those Spirits of Sweetness as they fly,  
So t'have had constant Melody;  
Nay Phillis self still by me in those:  
Her Breath, preserved and relicked close  
Had serv●d for sovereign protection  
'Gainst poisonous Plagues, and all infection.  
If that fam●d Harp, could river's cause  
To stand at wanton gaze and pause;  
Beasts. stubborn Rocks, and burly Trees,  
Made dance in Antique Revels these;  
Her voice must greater magic prove  
And make them court her fall in Love.  
While Fillis breathed and clos●d her song,  
Behold a pretty wonder sprung;  
Th' ambitious Nightingale replied,  
Through pertest emulations pride;  
[Chief Chorister I 'th feathered Court  
To th' Royal Eagle fam`d] in sport  
Would sing her part, and nimbly runs  
Her fine-poised quaint Divisions:  
Now Fillis, than the Nightingale,  
Now she than she, which should prevail:  
The Chirper falls to earnest now,  
No more must jesting strains allow:  
'tis sober Duel, no idle play,  
Sharp brest-con●ention for the day:  
Till the poor Bird presumes still higher▪  
As life would forfeit and expire.  
Which pitying, I was fain to entreat  
Her softer heart would make retreat,  
And end the dangerous strife so nigh  
By yielding a false Victory:  
This quarrel must not the loss prove  
Of such a voice to th' Spring and Grove:  
Her Mercy rather should reprieve  
[Double honours trophy] keep alive.  
When loath to stifle yet my blisses,  
I silenced those sweet lips with Kisses:  
Though but th' ears airy joys transfer'●  
To th' solid touch; so, saved the Bird.   

His fourth Dream of Cressas' Funeral, the Love of Difloris.  
IS any Pastors care so deaf to Fame,  
That has not heard of fairest Cressas' name?  
[So used to bleatings] whom that Funeralknel.  
Which groaned this nymph to earth, did hearts congeal.  
Hath not arrived to? happy sure's that He  
In this, since knows not th' common Misery;  
Distres●d Arcadias loss [with whom does share  
Nature, Grand Mourner] her beloved fair  
Cloistered in dust: nor [without company]  
Died she alone, a hundred seemed to die  
In Sorrow with her: The sun's self was gone  
Fast from her Funerals, and Night came on  
To bring her Sables. O what new-raised Train  
Of Gobl●ns struck my sight? which roved the plain  
With such dire ceremony, rueful guise,  
As each did his own Funeral solemnize.  
Lo, Deaths March 'twas; First went young swains by pair  
Each crowned with mournful cypress, Usherer  
To th' solemn hearse: Those four next to' that le●  
Bare shields, where pictured on a coal-black be●  
A pale dead Virgin lay, prepared as 'twere  
To Bridals and which beauteous did appear  
Even in death; by deaths black arms imbract▪  
And over, in white Characters was placed,  
This▪ this my Lover, this my Bridal: So  
All passed along. But following th' Hers● did go  
A single Swain; how dismal-looked slow paced▪  
Trust bulk of wretchedness, o'er whose face cast  
A mere Life-damp; seemed Ghost to th' corpse before;  
Sighs stormed about him, whilst he drenched their shore  
His torrent eyes; and thus would needs excel,  
Surpass in grief: About his Hat mixed well  
Forsaken Willow, cypress; where above  
This written, Deaths my Rival. Next does move  
the Virgin-train in white, which Censers bear  
●ark-vail'd like doomsday Planets▪ torchlight there  
●orc't frightful Noon. And thus they softly trace  
●ire measure! how unwilling!) to th' sad place  
●here they must leave their slumbering nymph behind  
●' enrich the Covetous Earth; which (half struck blind)  
the Youth beheld, never spoke Sorrow more  
Than now in silence: different Passions store;  
●ere sighs, there tears, pale looks there, yet all one  
Consort in Grief: This, general alone,  
All looked their utmost, till now lost the sight,  
With whom their eyes seem●d as 'twere buried quite;  
And (blind to upper things in earth beneath  
Are following her, as if in spite of death  
Would still enjoy: with many a pitying muse,  
The rude o'er churlish mould should so abuse  
That daintiest Body, which (though one more nice)  
'las, now complained not; but death-tranced lies.  
What Maiden adiews; what tears! Swain kissed the Place;  
All saying, richer-gemed Earth never was.   

Epitaph.  
HEre Chastity itself doth lie,  
And beauty's self; whom never eye  
Nor tongue could tempt as yet love;  
Till Death his violent dart did prove;  
And (Powerfulest) wou unto his Bed:  
Though She was even then Ravished.    

PHILLIS Complaint.  
WHy was I born,  
Or not born blind?  
Though thence the scorn  
Of whole mankind,  
Their Pity, or Wonder;  
That so I'd woman's Shape ne'er known;  
〈◊〉 se●ing had I missed but one,  
But Thine alone;  
We only kept asunder:  
●then kind Heavens you had blessed  
A Soul of Anguish,  
That's now condemned to sad unrest  
And endlessly must languish.  
Yet check my Heart, no more  
These Plaints give ●re:  
Since thou hadst rather die, through her rejection  
Then not have seen so rare perfection▪   

On his retired Lady.  

I.  
When you were born, sure nature mea● some other thing:  
Whose 〈◊〉 (by your discontent)  
you'd peevishly to ruin bring.  
The Sun doth shine, the stars hold forth,  
And so should you expose your worth▪   

II.  
Why should a face, whose magic may  
weak, seuls recruit,  
The 〈◊〉 and the veils obey?  
Or wherefore should that tongue be mute,  
〈…〉 many to mortal ears,  
Sin●s ●igh and sweeter than the spheres?   

III.  
Each for her Co●ntreys welsare, came into the earth.  
Part of her best pa●ts we may claim;  
As truly forfeit at her birth,  
Yet since forced b●ons are not so kind,  
We'll beg your face, and virtuous mind.   

IV.  
As did Medusa by her eyes, to stones convert  
Each daring look; so thine surprise;  
But 'tis not with Medusa's art:  
As flesh to stones transformed she,  
So stony hearts are broke by thee.   

V.  
Thy sacred lips, where cherries grow, set round with spi●e,  
Whence loves Ele●tars freely 〈◊〉;  
Why in recess constrained so nice?  
Sure he shall die unblessed that ●iffes  
The famou●●ooty of your kisses.   

VI.  
Will thy bright beams be ere the less for lighting me?  
〈…〉 thy comeliness?  
〈…〉 thy dignity?  
〈…〉 no longer in the Mines:  
〈…〉 and yet she shines.   

VII.  
Pray what ●vails Diana's tower?  
Or what consent  
Is couched in the golden shower,  
While she receives imprisonment?  
The life of beauty's by resort,  
Not in the pri●on, but the Court.   

VIII.  
〈…〉 cheeks abroad,  
〈…〉 no more  
Those G●ms each 〈◊〉 would appla●d,  
〈◊〉 with a 〈◊〉 adore.  
〈…〉 yourself and we in this  
〈…〉 greate● share in bliss.  
〈…〉