THE ACADEMY OF COMPLIMENTS: Or, A new way of Wooing. Wherein is variety of Love-Letters, very fit to be read of all Young Men and Maids, that desire to learn the true way of Compliments. Love with his Golden Arrow wounds the heart, To cure it learn this 〈◊〉 way of Lovers Art. London, Printed for Thomas Passenger at the Sign of the Three Bibles on London-Bridge, 168●. The Academy of Compliments, OR, A Neat way of Wooing. A Letter of Compliments to a fair young Gentlewoman. Mistress, FOr me to express over your beauty which hath been done by many, would appear a rude boldness, I will therefore acknowledge that my skill in blazing your precious perfections, cannot come near your worth, and that it is fit for me to admire a far off your excellencies, than to make my addresses too near, since all that I can perform in the way of Writing, is but a shadow, a piece of that beauty which you glory in, and which Venus beholding would blush even to paleness, finding herself so far exceeded. Your person is able to make the rugged brow of Winter smooth as the Spring: while the drooping Flowers would lift up their withered heads, and the deceived Birds (thinking that Summer was come) would sit and sing on the warm Boughs, and all for joy of your approaching to them: Thus nature doth rejoice to behold you, who are the joy of my heart: Thus subscribed Yours, not his own, B. M. The Gentlewoman's Answer. SIR, IF you did attribute these praises unto me out of Judgement, it would appear a great weakness in you, but I know that led on by a fancy you have thus Complemented yourself into an error, and think to make me believe more of myself than my modesty will permit. Sir, alas! my eyes are full of my own wants, and by your praises I find out my own perfections, wanting that which you ascribe to me: may I carry a fair mind in my breast, and I care not for outward beauty, some other might be taken with your praises, which I imagine are the effects of passion, not reason: But I shall desire you to pardon me, if I return you no thanks for your flattering Compliments, 'tis best to write truth. A natural kind of sweetness doth move best, and in such honest addresses of Love I shall regard your affection. Your humble friend, J. M. A Lover to his Mistress. Bright Lady, I Am now in love with my own eyes, and wit, for were not the first exceeding good, they could not endure the lustre of your beauty, and I am apt to believe the latter may be sharp, since it hath so exact a Character of your worth. Be more just to yourself and me, then to think I flatter you; look into yourself, and then you will wrong neither, and when you find I have done you right, call not my affection in question for making the discovery, since it is my duty to serve you and truth in all things honourable, but if in my commending my own services I am so presumptuous as to exceed your pleasure, let your pity seal my pardon, since my default was only the defect of love, and I shall doubly be engaged to be, Madam, Yours, now and ever, R. P. The Answer, A Lady to her Lover. SIR, YOU do well to love your own eyes, and wit and I will own the first to be good and the latter sharp, but if they both went together as you place them, your brains might be on the outside of your head, and then if you prove mistaken, blame yourself, your eyes, your wit, and not me, but that I may be just to you, where there is no fault, there is no need of pardon, though the worth of ones affections oftentimes appear more in words than in reality: however, if you will take the liberty and trouble to commend me, I must and will claim the privilege to subscribe myself, Sir, Your obliged servant, S. D. A rich old Gentleman to a fair young virgin. Young Lady, LEt not my years be an obstacle to your love, since I have those gifts of Fortune, that will not only maintain our affections, and keep the fire of love in a continual flame, but will also afford you all those Ornaments which he hath designed for the adorning such tender and beautiful Birds of Nature: Besides, though I come not to you with a powdered Lock, or in the Mode of a young Gallant, yet know, my Girl, my zeal for you can be as hot, and as sincere, as the sprucest pretenders in the World: and if age doth make me seem in your apprehension as a withering Tree, yet I have Gold which will keep its colour, and it is that which in this world is one's best friend: pray have me in your thoughts, and I shall watch for an opportune season, wherein I may make myself farther known to be, farirest Lady, Your most affectionate Servant, R. K. The Answer. A beautiful young Virgin, to a decrepit, rich, old Gentleman. Grave Sir, YOu are too far distant from me in years to be admitted into my affection, since you are arrived to the pitch of dotage, and I yet ignorant of what is love; However, I must do you so much justice as to commend your discretion for fishing with a Golden bait, for believe me, next to beauty, I cannot imagine any thing to be more taking among Mortals, than the glorious name of wealth: I could be content to keep my Coaches, my Pages, my Lackeys and Maids; but I confess I could never endure, the society of a bald pate: How can you think, Reverend Sir, that I should love you, when by the temptations which you offer, you clearly manifest your Opinion, that if I should marry it must be to your Gold, rather than to you? I confess a silver Mine is a pretty toy for a thing of my years to dote on, but I have a Childish humour peculiar to myself, that is never to humble my affections so, as that they suffer treasure, as a loadstone, to draw me to its beck. 'Tis true, wealth will be welcome to me to maintain my train, but the person of that more lovely Creature, Man, will be ever more welcome to a Maid's embraces. Can you think me so weak, as to exchange the flower of my youth for a bundle of Snow, or rotten dirt? No Sir, Gold with a Man is good, admirable good, but it is a man that in the School of Love passes for the principal verb: for my own part, rather than join myself to a mear wedge of Gold I shall choose to accept of a bundle of rags, so they have any affinity to a Man. Old-men are Grey, Old-men are grey: I am a lusty bonny young Lass, And I prithee Old-man away. By this time good Old man you know my mind, be wise, and Wed yourself to Heaven, and I shall thank you if in your Death you remember to bequeath your Gold to Your young Adviser. M. M. A Gentlewoman being unjustly charged by her Husband, for having too much familiarity with a Gentleman, with whom she never had any dishonest compliance, (to assuage her Husband's jealousy) does thus admonish the Gentleman to refrain her house and society. SIR, IT is not with blushes, but tears, that I presume to write unto you, for indeed it grieves me to publish my Husband's folly, which by duty I am bound to conceal, neither had I attempted it, but that grief and necessity throws me on this exigent; for so it is, that my unspotted chastity is not capable to defend him from jealousy, which makes me as much triumph in my own Loyalty, as I grieve at his ingratitude, and not content to wrong me, his folly, or rather his frenzy hath reflection on you, whom he takes to be both the object and cause thereof; but as your innocency can justly warrant and defend my honour and your honour, my innocency from the least shadow of that Crime, so that we may both endeavour rather to quench than inflame this irrigularity, I most humbly beseech you to refrain our house and neither to visit me, nor be familiar with him and so peradventure time may wear away from his thoughts, that which at present truth and reason cannot; your eloquent virtues, and true Generosity, assure me of this courtesy, which I will repay with thanks, and requite with prayers, that your days may be as infinite as your perfections, and your fame as glorious as your merits, so prays, Noble Sir, The honourer of your Virtues, and lover of your worth, O. R. His Answer. Noble and virtuous Lady, Your Virtues, and my Conscience, make us as unworthy of your Husband's jealousy, as he of so chaste a wife as yourself, and so true a friend as I am: but as your affection to him hath still shined in your loyalty, so it must now in your Patience, since he in this base passion of his, seeking his own shame, will at last assuredly find out your glory: Had his folly revealed me so much as your discreet Letter, I would have exchanged my pen to a Sword; and with the hazard of my life, and loss of my dearest blood, made known as well to him as to the whole World, the truth both of your Chastity and Honour, and of mine Honour and Innocency. In the mean time I will both embrace and obey your request, and will manage it with such observance to your Husband, such respect to your Virtues, and such regard to mine own Reputation, as I hope he shall rest satisfied of your Chastity towards himself, and of mine to you, otherwise I Prise Ladies of your respection, at so high a rate, and set one of his humour and inclination at so low an esteem, that I will know how to answer his choler with contempt, and to requite your discretion, both with Admiration and Praise. Madam, Your affectionate honourer in all noble Essays, E. G. A merry, but civil discourse betwixt Roger and Kate, sitting up late together. Roger. IT is time, Kate, that I should now discover my mind unto you; we have long been Servants together, and ever since my first coming I have born you good will, which I would desire you to accept, and grant me your love. Kate. For that you must pardon me, for I do not intent to marry, and therefore, let that serve for an excuse, since I would be loath to discourage you, and say I cannot love you. Roger. I hope you will not, for since I beheld you I have admired your perfections. Kate. You know affection cannot be compelled, therefore I thank you for the good will which you have hitherto born, but as for your love I cannot accept of it. Roger. Then I perceive you love some other. Kate. I desire you to excuse me, I cannot frame my mind to fancy you, though I know you deserve my betters, but for me to settle affection where I cannot love, would be an endless misery: the Briar and the Honey-suckle can't agree. Roger. Then you compare me to a Briar, but I will with all humility put up your disdain, hoping that the continuance of my love shall soften your mind to receive me into some degree of favour, for I protest I love you entirely. Kate. The utmost that I can do for you in requital of your love, is to give you thanks and counsel to suppress your desire, and not to proceed any further in this fuit, which at last will become fruitless. Roger. I shall be sorry then, by this Kiss which I presume to take, none hath power over me but yourself; I love you all over, and if you would licence my hand to stray about, how happy shall I be? Kate. Nay, than I perceive your love is but rash and wanton desire, neither can I stay with you any longer, lest my absence out of my Mistress' Chamber may breed some suspicion. Roger. Nay, I will hold you in the Prison of my Arms, and if you will get your freedom, you shall yield me some of your sweet kisses, which are but shadows of that substantial happiness which you can afford me. Kate. Nay, pray be not so rude, nor give me a cause to suspect that your love is dishonest, I had formerly a better opinion of you; but now I am jealous of your good intent. Roger. Pardon me, if Love hath made me to offend in some boisterous actions. Kate. Come, let me be gone, I shall be angry if you hinder me. Roger. Sweet Rogue, I obey thy desire, but let me prevail further with you at your next meeting. On Love. Love is a Game at Tables, where the die Of Maid's affection doth by fancy fly; And if you take such pleasures in a blot, 'Tis ten to one if that you enter not. But Gamester you may safely venture, When that your point is opposite to th' centre; And watch your play for now and then Do what you can, they will be learning Men. A Whimsy to his Mistress. Venus' naked in her Chamber, Wounds more deep than Mars in Armour. Her Reply. Which an Enemy you fear, Book to it, see you come not there. A Description of true Love. Two Hands, two Feet, two ears two eyes, One Tongue, one Heart where love ne'er dies. A Lady to whom she affects. SIR, I Should have been happy if Heaven had given me merits to deserve your affections, since I hold it no great difficulty to afford you mine, but that we may discourse with a little freedom, I will borrow so much time from my other affairs as to meet you, only I shall give this caution, that as I am a Virgin, you will show yourself so far a Gentleman as not to offer any thing that may savour of incivility; pardon me, that I lay such an injunction on you, it is not that I question you are otherwise Noble but only what is commonly expected from a Maiden that hath respect to her own modesty and credit, and may therefore very well become, Sir, Your Friend and Servant, R. T. The Answer. The Lover to his Amorous Lady. Dear Madam, I Do so well understand my respect to you, that (Pardon my boldness if I say) your care was somewhat needless. Lady, it is you that I adore, and can you then imagine I would injure you, you that I would gladly make mine own and be proud of such a Purchase; Again, my Birth is not so base as to tyrannize over Ladies, especially you, the best of Ladies. When the Sky puts on her bespangled Garments the glittering Stars, I will expect you with all the reverene● and submission due to your Noble merits, from, Divine Lady, Yours if you think me worthy, R. P. A SONG. I am comfirmed a Woman can Love this or that, or any Man; To day her Love is melting hot, To Morrow swears she knows not what: Let her but a new object find, And she is of another mind: Then hang me Ladies at your door, If e'er I dote upon you more. And yet I love the fair own, Why? For nothing but to please my Eye; For he that's Musical long, When I am sad to sing a Song: And for that fair and smooth-skined Dame, I flatter to appease my flame: Then hang me Ladies at your Door, If e'er I dote upon you more. I give my fancy leave to range In every face, to find a change; The Black, the Brown, the Fair shall be But Objects of Variety: I Court you all to serve my turn, But with such flames as shall not burn: Then hang me Ladies at your Door, If e'er I dote upon you more. A Letter of Love from John Downright, to his Sweetheart. Sweet Susan, YOu know I am no Miller, and therefore will make no clogs with you; nor no Gamester, and therefore will not play a false Card with you but as true as I live, I told you now that is the plain truth, and therefore believe it, for by my kerson Soul, I do not halt with you, for at the last turn when I last danced with you, your hand gave such a quitch to me heart, that it was ready to leap out of my mouth to deliver me mind to you, & therefore I have gotten the Schoolmaster of our Town to write this to you; Now, if you be as you are, and I hope still to be as kind to m● as I shall be to you, it shall not be long e'er it, come to that upshot, that shall not in haste he put back again; And therefore I pray you wear these Gloves that I send you, they cost me two groats. I would then were better for you. So till I see you at the Wake the next Week, where I hope a good bargain shall not be long a making, when good ware shall be worth money, and an honest Man will take pains for his living, I rest Your own Sweetheart. J. D. Her Answer. TRuly John, I know not what to say to you, but I would be loath that you should be so ill, that I could not help you: but had I known your mind when I was last with you, I could with more content have written to you; for I will tell you what: after you were gone from me, here came a youngster unto me, that kept such 〈◊〉 stir with me, that there was no ho, but he would have me. For by his troth he swore, and ●ll the troths that he could swear by, that, for ●his whole year he hath had a month's mind to ●e, and do what I could, I could not be rid of ●im, before I did tell him that I could love him, ●nd so indeed I could, if I had known him; for ●e was a handsome fellow, but being a Stranger ●e should pardon me for the main chance. Now therefore yet John all is whole, and I am a true Maid, and since an honest Bachelor is worthy of a good Wench, without Clogs or Cards, by my Holidum I swear, there shall be no ●ove lost betwixt true hearts; but I am my Father's jewel and you are your Mother's joy; and therefore if they will think well of the matter, I hope it shall be as it will be; for your Gloves I thank you, but why are you at such charges with me? but 'tis no matter, there will be more gotten or lost by that time, ere the bargain be made up: at the wake I hope to meet you, and therefore be not asleep when you should be there. I will have a trick to get my Father thither, and if you can bring your Mother, I hope we shall make a merry day. Farewell. Thine own if good hap hit, M.J. What Love is. Love is a blinded God, and angry Boy; A slave to beauties will, a witless toy. A Ravening Bird, a Tyrant most unjust; A private Hell, a very Sea of lust. A Love Letter to a most worthy Gentlewoman. FAir Creature, to tell you I love you, were 〈◊〉 phrase of too plain a fashion, and yet when truth is indeed the best eloquence, affection needs no invention to express the care of her contents which being in the Letters, makes a word soon to be read, which being Y, O, U, nothing doubting your spelling, I hope you will so kindly put together, that a conjunction of Love shall have no separation during Life; and thus beseeching you to learn this Lesson by heart, without a cross i● conceit, to hinder the course of Love's comfort, t●● I hear from you in that nature that may make me a happy Creature, I rest, Yours wholly and only, if you will, T. H. Her Answer. KInd Sir, to tell you I love you, were to cross an Answer with a comfortable request, & yet when dissimulation is the worst fruits o● invention, discretion may be pardoned in concealing of Love; touching your Letters, they are sooner read than understood, while imaginative hopes may be deceived in their haphappiness and yet to avoid all touch of ingratitude, in that nature of kindness that may give honour content, as a simple Scholar in the art of Love, loath to have that by heart that may trouble more than my head; when separations of Conjunctions may endanger the Death of Comfort, wishing nothing amiss to them that mean well: I rest, Yours, as I may be mine own, F. S. An Old Man's Letter to a Young Widow, WIdow, I have neither a smooth-Face, nor a filled Longue to clear your Eyes, nor abuse your Ears withal; but a true heart and a constant mind that doth inwardly love you, and will never deceive you; fickle heads, and unbridled wills, know not where or how to bestow themselves when their Wits go a Woolgathering, among shrews that have had fleeces; they may be kind, but not constant; and love loves no out-lookers, but besides, light heads have no stayed heels, and a little wealth is soon spent. Who knoweth the woe of want, can tell you the difference between an Old Man's darling, and a Young Man's Warling: Why? how can they love, that scarce know how to like? I know you have many Suitors of worth, but none that I think more worthy than myself: for none can love you so much, nor esteem you so well; for I have known the World, 〈◊〉 are not for it, nor for any thing but you. If therefore all I have may please you, and myself to love and honour you, make my comfort your contentment, and I will seek no other Paradise in the World. Thus hoping that reason in your favour will effect the hope of my affection, leaving you to yourself, to be yourself, I rest Yours, or not mine, J. C. Her Answer. SIR, I Can never see you but in a Letter, I should delight much in your presence, but contraries are not correspondent. A grey head, and a green mind fit not, your persuasions were forcible, were not yourself of too much weakness: but though for your good Will I thank you, yet for nothing will I be indebted to you, no not for a World would I be troubled with you; for as our years, so I fear our fancy will be indifferent, and the patience moving choler may breed anger, when to be an Old man's Darling, is a kind of a curse to nature. You say well, who can love that know not how to like? when the senses are uncapable of their comfort, what is imagination but a Dream? A blind Man can judge no colour, A Deaf Man hath not skill in Music, a Dum Man no Eloquence, and an Old Man little feeling in lo●es passion. For my Suitors they suit my time and serve their own, and for their worth, I shall judge of the most worthy. Now for their wits, if they lose not their own fleeces, let them gather wool where they can; but for your love, I will not venture on it, lest being too old, it be not sweet: and for my young Suitors, I hope I shall take heed of a shadowned sourness: As for fortune while virtue governs affection, I will not fear my felicity. So hoping your town reason will persuade you to have patience with your passion, and leave me to my better comfort, meaning to be as you wish me, myself, and no other, I rest, Not yours, if my own, P. M. On Maid's Inconstancy. SHall I weep, or shall I sing? I know not best which fits mourning. ●f I weep, I ease my brain, ●f I sing, I sweeten pain; Weep I'll sing, and singing weep, To see how Maids no love can keep. On Virginity. Jewels being lost, are found again; This never, this lost but once, is lost for ever. To his Mistress. When first I saw thee, thou didst sweetly play The gentle Thief, and stole my heart away; Render me mine again, or leave thy own, Two are too much for thee since I have none: But if thou wilt not, I will swear thou art A sweet-faced Creature with a double heart. Posies for Rings, and other pleasant things. As I expect so let me find, A faithful heart, a constant mind. God hath kept my heart for thee, Grant that our love may faithful be. God hath thee chosen a Mate for me, I'll honour him in loving thee. Such liking in my choice I find, That none but Death shall change my mind. Innumerable are the Stars I see, But in my heart no Star like thee. Had I not spoke, My heart had broke. I fancy none, But thee alone. Heart and Hand, At your Command. Where Hearts agree, No strife can be. A SONG. He that will court a wench that's coy, that's proud, that 's peevish, and antic: Let him be careless to sport and toy, And as peevish as she is frantic: Laugh at her, and slight her, Flatter her, and spite her, Rail and commend her again; It is the way to woe her, If that you mean to come close to her Such Girls will love such Men. He that will court a Wench that is mild, That is so soft and kind of behaviour; Let him kindly woo her, Not roughly come to her, 'Tis the way to win her favour; Give her Kisses plenty, She'll take them were they twenty, Stroke her and kiss her again; It is the way to woo her, If that you mean to come close to her, Such Girls do love such men. He that will court a Wench that is mad, That will squeak and cry out if you handle her, Let him Kiss and fling, Till he makes the house ring, 'Tis the only way to tame her: Take her up and touse her, Salute her and rouse her, Then kiss her and please her again; It is the only way to woo her, If that you mean to come close to her, Mad Girls do love Mad Men. Another Song. My Mistress loves no Woodcocks, yet loves to pick the bones; My Mistress loves some Jewels, and other Precious Stones. My Mistress loves no hunting, yet loves to hear the Horn; My Mistress loves not Irish, yet loves to see men Born. My Mistress loves no Wrestling, yet loves to take a fall: My Mistress loves not all things, yet loves my Master withal. On the Representing of a Nosegay of Roses, with a Nettle in it. Such is the Posy love composes, A stinging Nettle mixed with Roses. On the representing of Ring with a Picture and a Jewel on it. Nature hath framed a Gem beyond compare, The World's the Ring, but you the Jewel are. On the Presenting of a pair of Gloves. These will keep your hands from burning, Whilst the Sun is swiftly turning: But who can any veil devise To shield my heart from your fair eyes. The Butler and the Chambermaid having passed the night merrily, towards morning enter into a pleasant discourse, ad follows: Butler. LOok, by this light day, the time has stolen from us strangely. Chambermaid. By this light (sayest thou) 'tis day? not by this, by t'other, 'tis indeed Butler. Thou art such another piece of temptation, my Lord raves by this time for his cup of Pearl. Chambermaid. Fie upon thee, thou art as fearful as a young Colt, boglest at every thing, as if Lovers had considered hours; I'll peep in. Butler. I am as weary of this Wench, as if I were married to her, she hangs upon me like an Ape upon a Horse, she is as common too as a Barbers-glass, conceit too like Dye-dapper. Chambermaid. There's no body within, my Lady sleeps this hour longer at the least. A Letter of discontent after the falling out of two Lovers. Most discourteous and painted Friend. IT's the custom of Lovers after the breach of their League and amity, to send back those Gratuires which formerly passed as Tokens of their natural affections. You have taken up the fashion; and believe me, I abhor any longer to have nearness with one of your qualification, who for mere trifles can dissolve the knot of Friendship, and shake hands with familiarity. For know hat your memory, which was something dear in my thoughts, is now abhorred, seeing that the firmness and stability of affection, you have so carelessly brought to annihilation: I may parallel my present condition to the state of the Sun, when pitchy Clouds environing him round about seem to extinguish his splendour. But time, the perfecter of all Terrestrial things may in due season impart a lustre correspondent to my hopes, and suitable to my disposition, till when I will scorn the blasts of adversity, and all those who having little or no merit, are endowed by the dispensation of the Owl-eyed Goddess Fortune, with large possessions. However, if I can find no better to converse and spend my time with than yourself I will turn Momus, and for ever hate the society of Men, but having a better Opinion of the generality, I cashier you with this Ultimum Vale, and rest A Stranger, T. P. A Virgin to her Parents, that would have her matched to one she cannot love. Most dear Parents, I Beseech you, let the Rules of nature be so prevalent with you, as not to marry me to the Man you design, but if you do resolve that I shall marry, let it be to one that I shall love, or to my Grave: be not overruled by the thought of Avarice, lest you become inhuman to your own blood, and make me Your sad, sorrowful, and afflicted Daughter, L. C. FINIS.