I know thou'lt ask' why I no Front do wear  
To take the distant eye? Not I, I swear.  
To give an invitation, and no meat,  
Would not be thought a courtesy, but cheat.  
Besides,( if mine own fears aright divine)  
Thou'lt find but too much Front in every line.    

Hippolytus Translated out of SENECA.  
By EDMUND PRESTWICH.  
Together with divers other Poems of the same Authors.  
Verum pone moras, & studiam lucri, Nigrorumque memor, dum licet ignium, Misce stultitiam conciliis brevem.  
LONDON, Printed by G. D. for George Boddington, at the sign of the Crown in Chancery-lane near the rolls. 1651.   

TO THE NOBLE and MOST virtuous LADY, Mrs. ANNE LEEDES.  
Madam,  
HEre you see, what diligence I have used to involve myself into a labyrinth, out of which, my judgement is not clew sufficient to conduct me. I blush when I remember, how I have betrayed mine own weakness to the public view; and like Caecrops Daughter, tempted my MINERVA to mine own ruin, for daring to discover an Infant with such deformed feet. I have reason to fear,' that those knowing spirits, the right heirs to all those sacred fountains within the diocese of the mytered Hill; those professed Champions of poesy, who are so jealous of the muse's Honour, will be strict in their examinations, severe in their censures, and where they find an intruder, whose follies are stripped thus naked as are mine, liberally use that lash which was justly put into their hands. But when they shall know, I am not so wedded to self-love, but that( were I permitted to cast my bean into the urn) I should be as ready to condemn myself, as expect my sentence from another; Perhaps, so ingenious a confession might in noble minds quite pluck out the sting of Anger, and make their reprehensions rather arise from pity, or a Fatherly affection, than Revenge: but than I tremble to think how I stand engaged amongst all that ignorant and censorious Rabble, who because Nature( foreseeing how lavish they would be of that little which they had) durst not trust them with any considerable stock of wit, believe they are privileged to cry it down in others; Men, that, conscious of their own baseness, obstinately arm against truth and knowledge, and by custom of Malice are grown so barbarous, as they will vindicate a Prostitute, or set a spurious birth upon the highest point of Honour; but endeavour to stab their forked tongues into the bosom of the most chaste and noble Virgin; my meaning is, that they will cherish common and shallow fancies; Births so infamous, that they can only speak their parent's shame, when a Legitime Poem often falls a sacrifice to the many-headed and no brained Multitude. From the rage of these, I fly to you for Protection, as confident( how desperately soever otherwise bent,) they dare not violate so holy a Sanctuary. Nor do I doubt, but you will guard me from so treacherous and unjust an Enemy, as pretends to reprove my Faults; but indeed acts his own Malice, and would have persecuted me worse, had this been better. Neither am I so impudent, as to desire you should, against the equity of your own Conscience, defend a trifle, and approve to others what you yourself mislike: No( Madam) I request you to be my Judge as well as Patron; as well to punish where you find me faulty, as to protect me Innocent; and if after due examination had, my whole Book shall appear guilty of cheating my Readers out of so much time for nothing, sentence it to the fire; and believe me, I would not bewail mine own sufferings, if condemned by so legal a Process. But if you shall be pleased to receive it into any degree of Favour, I shall be secure, that it is not altogether to be despised, and in that confidence, dare, both vindicate myself unto the world, and make my own revenge of such as shall provoke me. Your wisdom, Justice, and singular affection to the MUSES,( to wrong whom, I believe you esteem, as well as I, a sin next sacrilege) may sufficiently warrant all men, that your judgement will be unbiased. Therefore as that shall determine of me, I will either quietly submit myself to all censures, or rise up in defence of my Innocence. In the mean time, I will not speak one word in mine own behalf; only if this shall fail your expectation, and prove unworthy this Honour it is advanced to; I beseech you exercise both your Justice and Mercy, burn it, but forgive him, who will ever esteem it his greatest happiness to be reckoned amongst the number of  
Your Servants, EDMUND PRESTWICH.   

TO THE judicious READER.  
Judicious Reader,  
AS I must confess, nothing could please me more, than to know that my endeavours had pleased thee; so I must tell thee, nothing can trouble me less than the knowledge that they have not; choose how thy judgement be stated, I am resolved to make my benesit of it; for if thy applause shall crown these first essays of my Youth, the highest soaring ambition could not have expected a more grateful success, than that, which( besides an ample recompense for what I have already done) brings along with it sufficient matter of encouragement for the future, and( as it were) kindly constrains me to continue the pursuit of a study, which mine own Inclinaaion hath but too violently begun, making that appear the child of gratitude which is now perhaps by some accounted folly. Nor do I doubt, but the▪ affectionate zeal of a thankful soul, together with a generous scorn to belie a judgement so advantageous to myself, will prompt my Genius to higher and braver things for thy pleasure, than ever yet I could attain to for mine own; but if with what I seek to obtain thy favour, I shall only purchase a meritorious anger, thou mayst condemn these trifles, ad ficum & piperem, or if thou wilt( as unserviceable even there) to more base and servile offices; and believe me, I can forgo( without the least act of repentance) so fruitless a study, as yields me neither fame nor profit; nor shall I esteem it a small piece of friendship to stop my wild career, my foot being upon so dangerous a precipice. Thus far to thee, whose censure is grounded upon the sure foundation of an uncorrupted reason. Now thou, who makest a Lottery of thy mouth, and shuffling thy words together, fetchest thy dislike or approbation from the mere virtue of chance, mayst be pleased to consider, that I shall not easily be afraid of noise, that am so confident against the most imminent dangers, therefore if thy sick palate cannot relish such cates as I have set before thee; if thou look upon my lines with such a kind of an odium, as petulant curs do upon foreigners, bark till thy spleen burst, thou hurt'st not me; but if the toy take thee to give me a wretched commendation, I shall but give thee cold thanks, with a non minimum est quod stultis placui. Thus you may both see that I( being above either hope or fear) crave not any thing at your hands, only one small request I have, and that little relating to myself; namely, that since some Friends have been pleased to usher my dark feet into the World, that you would not by my weakness measure their discretion, but affection: grant this, and however you censure me, I shall continue  
Your Friend, EDMUND PRESTWICH.   

To my Noble Friend Mr Edmund Prestwich, upon his Elegant POEMS.  

SIR, You have gently cured my fears, and I  
Congratulate Emergent poesy,  
And you her Tutelar Angel, who have made  
Her live, and by your wit secured her shade  
By you,( his better Seneca) revived  
Hippolytus is now grown longer lived;  
And Seneca himself that could not die,  
Hath gained another Immortality  
Yet here, you but translated; when you choose  
An amorous Tract, and speak your own free Muse  
My admiration over-reads my Eye,  
And I am last in the full Harmony.   
JA: SHIRLEY.   

To my Worthy Friend Mr Edmund Prestwich, on his Translation of Hippolytus.  

HArd is thy Fate( great wit) thus to advance  
Thy Poem in this age of Ignorance,  
To send it forth in such a time as this,  
Where none must judge but such as judge amiss;  
Course fordid censurers, that think their eyes  
Abused if sixt, on aught but Mercuries,  
When honest judgements will not doubt to swear  
Thy work deserves an Amphitheatre.   

Nor is this piece such as of late hath been  
The tedious stuff● of Poetasters seen,  
Wit to a nobler height, doth thine intend;  
No common labour to no common end:  
For by thy Version we are taught anew,  
T'interpret what we vainly thought we knew  
But still mistake; so that in this we find  
Thou canst do Miracles, and cure the blind.   

The oraculous mist from Seneca is fled,  
Which with fresh Laurel, crowns his verdant head,  
And the black curtain of his clouded sense,  
Is drawn by thy exact Intelligence.   

Hippolytus that erst was set upon  
By all, mangled by misconstruction  
Dismembred by misprision, now by thee  
And thy ingenious chirurgery;  
Is reunited to his limbs, and grown  
Stronger as thine, than when great Theseus' son.   

Go on then wits example, and revive,  
What none but such as thee, can keep alive;  
Slack not the work for want of Industry  
For not a line, of those thou writ'st can die.   
Char: Cotton.   

To his most Honoured and most Ingenious Friend, Mr. Edmund Prestwich, upon his happy Translation of Seneca, his Tragedy of Hippolytus.  

WRetched Translators! they who only know  
How like the Moon reflections faint to show  
To those benighted Ignorants that dare  
Not look upon the Sun in his own sphere;  
That their Translations are the author's Hell  
Where nothing but their ghastly shadows dwell.  
Thine's a Parhelion in height and glory  
Yet not prodigious nor transitory.  
By this thy Version Seneca doth get▪  
A better Genius fresher bays hath met.  
What can I say, but thou translat'st him even,  
As God would man from Paradise to Heaven;  
But sin those copies blured so that but one  
True Manuscript could find Translation.  
Hippolytus hath such a handsome Mine  
Dressed by thee; thy Muse, worse than th' Attic queen  
Will I'm afraid in this transplanted Grove  
Inc●stuously her own Issue Love.  
he's truly Virbius, for thou hast done  
More for him now, then erst did Phoebus' son;  
When his torn limbs lay like a shattered lute  
He them patched up, with new breath did recruit.  
In Miracles yet him thou dost outdo  
Giv'st other life and that immortal too.  
Jove's Vengeance damned his art, that durst control  
The Laws of Fate, bring home a once fled soul.  
Thine to doth thee to Heavens envy raise,  
But thou'rt secure from thunder by thy bays  
But why translate, gild, hatch, why not appear  
Thy solid self, sad Ingot, neat, not tear,  
As when men court the Maidenhead of light,  
Desire to see the first, first rayie flight  
Of Phoebus' shafts, they face about toth' West  
There see some cliff kissed by the new-come Guest;  
So in the ponent of things past must we  
Look for thy daybreak, and lo there we see  
Thy dawning wit, with early glory play  
On this Iberian Mount of Corduba.  
And I'm content, because my weak eyes are able  
To see thy Sun thus in the water dabble;  
But risen to his Zenith, Oh, who can  
Stare at thy Halos, when Meridian?   
Cromwell Stanhop.   

To his much loved Friend Mr Edmund Prestwich on his Translation of Hippolytus.  
Dearest,  

MIstrust not; thy Hippolytus,  
Will relish much, with God with Us,  
And I'm ascertained that this Nation,  
Likes nothing like to a Translation.   
RIC. ROGERS.   

To his Honoured and Ingenious Friend Mr. Edmund Prestwich on his Translation of Hippolytus.  

TO say that now the Pedant understands  
Words, which no comment opened to his hands  
Or sense, his brains less able to obey,  
Than patience, or the forgotten quarter-day, head.  
Were praises of a pestilence more dead  
Than thunder, t' blast thy Laurel 'bout thy  
To bring thee commendations from their schools  
Were to translate the wisemen into fools  
As if we added unto Books more state  
By Imprimaturs fetched from Billingsgate.   

No, to praise thee's to show this age of ours  
How far thy Fancy, outwings Caesar's powers,  
He, who joined seas, & pinioned Neptune's arms  
Aff●ighted Nature with the wild alarms  
Of his Triumphant madness might transfer  
His hand o'er th' life of that Philosopher,  
Thy poet's Ancestor, which to restore  
Must make even vanquished Nero cry no more  
Here all my powers make Alt; but thou hast made  
Thy Poet a new body to his Shade;  
Not the long sleep of fifteen hundred years,  
Nor the confusion of enriched Sepulchers,  
Where's better part lay gnawn on by those moths  
Of happy Spirits, ignorance & goths;  
Affright thy daring Genius thou dost state  
The laws of Nature, and decrees of Fate  
Bidst massy Marble, her entombed up give:  
Commandest even dust, reanimate and live:  
Mak'st this Tragedian, by new life be known  
Less signal in all Tragedies than's own.  
He lives in greater beauty than when th' throng  
Of ravished Romans fed their ears with's song.   

Thus Poets,( if their happy thought can climb  
But to as high an excellence as thine)  
Like the last Angel in th' dissolvent skies,  
Bid but the dead awake, and they arise.   
Edward Williams.   

To his Honoured and Ingenious Friend Mr. Edmund Prestwich, upon his Poems, and Translation of Hippolytus.  

MOst men will sure mistake when they behold  
My rustic Muse, thus confidently bold  
Entruding in your Front; till they shall know  
Her humbler pride, concealed her far more low  
Until surprised, commanded, and confined,  
Unto this height, by your magnetic mind  
Which you so richly have embodied here  
Though in another's mould; you can appear  
( I do believe in full as various shapes  
As Jupiter e'er did to act your rapes  
Upon our Muses, since your curious art   

Hath wrought a miracle of this desert  
Which( like a Verger) I would stand and tell  
Did not its Character too much excel  
My crepid fancy, whilst by your Translation  
As by a Magically replantation  
From the vitrial form, old Seneca I've raised  
In as full verdancy, as his most praised,  
And vigorous youth, h've rendered him before  
Both symmetry, and Features, and what's more  
Given life by Tragedy; Founding your Art  
In true Pilosophy, which you impart  
In lively Helicon to th' torrid wits  
Of our poor panting times, where nought befits  
The raging humour, but what's worthless born  
Mean as the age; beneath a poet's scorn.  
Though some there are, whose true born Eagle eyes,  
Will rightly scan it, and return the prize  
Of full grown Laurel, to the full blown Muse  
Of your yet springing brow; none will refuse  
To add a branch unto that wreath; whilst I  
Thus like a shade contentedly stand by.   

A Sable Foil dropped on the beauteous Front  
And yet not cast the least of Lustre on't   
Your Humble devoted MAT. CART●R.   

Hippolytus ENGLISHED.  


The actor's Names:  
Hippolytus.  
Phaedra.  
Nuncius.  
Chorus.  
Theseus.  
Nutrix.    

ACTUS Primi.  

SCENA Prima.  Enter Hippolytus, and divers servants, as to Hunting. Hip. 

GO, and surround the shady woods, and those  
High cliffs, which do impale the mountains brows  
Disperse, and with your quickest speed descry  
Those ragged quarries under Parnes tie  
View the Thriasian vales, and banks which are  
Worn by the force of rapid torrents, there  
climb up these hills, which with obdured snow  
Are ever crowned. Some of you this way go  
Where the high aldars into arbours tie  
The woods, where those embroidered fields do lie  
Which 2 Zephyr, quickening with his dewy breath  
Decks with those flowers he called from beneath  
Where smooth 3 Ilissus runs flanked on both sides  
With icicles, where slow 4 Meander glides  
O'er th' equal fields, and frets the sterile shore  
Run with unprofitable waters o'er.  
Take you the left path, whence the woods descried  
To 5 Marathon, where beasts, accompanied  
With flocks of younglings, do their stomaches right  
Grown bold by the protection of the night.  
Go you more Southerly, and take the way  
Leads to frost-thawing 6 Acarnania.  
The rock of sweet 7 Hymetus you: the small  
8 Aphidnae you must visit; this Part shall  
Yet rest, where the embowed Ocean doth  
On 9 Suniori beat itself into a froth.  
Whoever hath a soul with Glory fired  
Him 10 Philalis doth call, Lo here retired  
Lies the fierce Boar, the labouring Husbands fear  
But too well known, now by those wounds they wear  
Slip you the silent dogs, and you restrain  
Th' impatient courage of th' Molossian:  
And let the struggling Cretensian Bitch  
With her bald neck the stubborn Collar stretch.  
But have a care that straighter couples hold  
The fiery Spartan, for the dog is bold  
And eager after game, the time draws nigh  
The caves shall echo back, the deep mouthed cry  
Now may they, while the dawning lasts, while yet  
The dew retains the figure of their feet,  
The air examine with a curious guest,  
And on the nose run to the holds' o'th' beast;  
While he, bowing beneath the burden, bears  
The more unused, lay you the lesser snares.  
The painted counterfeit, from thence will speed  
The frighted Beasts, into our toils indeed  
Do you a light and missile javelin shake,  
But you in either hand a Boar-spear take  
And so employ your might, in ambush laid  
Drive you the game, by your loud cries dismayed  
Headlong into our nets; and as for you  
Embowel what we happen to subdue!   

Assist sacred 11 Virago, for thou art  
Sole Queen of the world's solitary part:  
Thy never-erring shafts the Beasts do slay  
That drinks the 12 cold Araxes, or doth play  
In frozen Ister: Cretan hearts by thee  
And Lybian Lions persecuted be▪  
Now lightly woundest thou the flying Buck  
To thee, the spotted tiger to be struck  
Proffers his breast; Thou for thy ease mayest take  
The Buffs broad horns, or the bulls humbled back  
Whatever feed in deserts, whether they  
Be known to the rich-groved Arabia,  
Or needy Garamas, let their abodes,  
Be in Pyrenean Cliffs, or Hircan woods,  
They and the vagabonding Scythians bear  
To thy Artillery an awful fear.  
Whose Piety hath thee's Associate made,  
Broke by no feet, his nets have fettered  
The captived Beasts; the Cart hath seemed to groan,  
Under the weight of the brave prey thereon.  
Then the Dogs Snouts in blood are died, then come  
The glorying Huntsmen, as in Triumph home.  
Hearken, my dogs do spend, and the hot cry  
Assures me I have pleased her Deity.  
I'm summoned to the woods, this way I'll take  
Whereby I may the shorter journey make.   Exit.  

Actus Primi. Scena Secunda.  

Phaedra.  
Nurse.   Ph. 

O 1 Crete, great sovereign of the Seas that be  
Replete with ships, on each side coasting thee,  
All such as plough the Deep, and cut their way  
Thorough these Floods, open t' Assyria;  
2 Why am I hostage, where I hate? or why,  
Given in Marriage to my Enemy,  
To be drawn out in misery and tears,  
Hast thou condemned the remnant of my years?  
My wand'ring Husband absent Theseus hath▪  
Not in his Marriage, lost his wont faith.  
Champion to an 4 audacious Sultor now  
The Hero stalketh in the dark below;  
Plucked from the throne of the infernal King  
These madmen Proserpina again will bring.  
Nor fear, nor sense of shame restrain him: Thus  
The glorious Father of Hippolytus.  
In Hell itself endeavoureth to meet  
With lowless pleasures and forbidden sheets.   

But( ah) I am with greater weights oppressed  
Not from my cares by Night or sleep released:  
The Ill is nourished, which too fast doth grow  
And burns within; so vapours straitened flow  
From the womb of 5 Aetna idle stands  
The loom, the shittle falleth from my hands.  
Now in their Temples do I take no care  
To bribe the Gods with vows to hear my prayer  
Nor 'twixt the Altars, joined with Attic Dames,  
Shake in those silent Duties conscious flames.  
Nor 6 with chaste Prayers, and pious rites draw near  
The Goddess, that Praesides by 7 conquest here.  
I rather would pursue the roused beast  
My soft hand with a rugged javelin pressed.  
O! whither will my vexed soul? Alas,  
Why frantic, do I thus affect the chase?  
8 My mother's crime was fatal now I prove  
And in the Woods have placed my sinful Love.  
Mother, I do repent thee now. Thou took  
A Bull, wild, and impatient of the yoke.  
Distempered with thy ill, thy lust preferred  
The Fierce Conductor of the savage herd▪  
Yet did he something love: What God can ease▪  
What Dedalus can quench such flames as these  
Should he return, whose powerful Art did build  
The Labyrinth my brother's Monster held  
He could not help, my case admits of none  
Venus offended with the tell-tale Sun,  
9 On us his off spring doth revenge the Gyves  
She, and her Mars sustained, who e'er derives  
Herself from Sol, Venus depraves her mind  
None dead with Love, but Love and impious joined.   Nu. 

Thou wife of Theseus, and the 10 child of Jove  
From thy chaste breast drive this unseemly Love:  
Quench me these Flames, nor yield to such a hope  
As may affright thee. He who gives a stop  
And a Repulse to Love at first, hath been  
Victor, and Safe: who cherishes the Sin,  
Too late denies to undergo the yoke  
Himself put on: Neither am I mistook  
In Princely tumours, how the stubborn mind  
Scorns truth, and will not be to right inclined,  
The Fates decrees are welcome, who are old  
To see their end approaching grew more bold.  
First wilt it oppose, nor falter in that will,  
'Tis next to modesty to know in ill  
A measure. Wretch! what wilt thou do? Ah, why  
Dost thou increase thy houses infamy,  
And overact thy Mother? this exceeds  
Her sin, and more than monstrous be thy deeds.  
For to compulsive Fate we attribute  
Monsters, but sins to manners we impute  
Think'st thou thy crime more safe and void of fear  
Because 11 Theseus sees not what is acted here?  
Thou art mistaken, for suppose he dwell  
For ever there, doomed t' a perpetual Hell.  
What will thy 12 Father do▪ thy Father awes  
The Sea, and gives a hundred Cities Laws:  
And Parents are quick-sighted; What will he  
Wink at so horrid an Impiety?  
But grant our craft, or circumspection might  
Conceal it from him. What will that great Light  
Of all things, Father to thy Mother do?  
What the God's fruitful Seminator, who  
As he his Thunder brandishes, doth shake  
The trembling world? are these like to mistake  
Canst thou yet hope unseen, to keep thy crime  
From these All-seeing Grandfathers of thine▪  
But say the favouring Deities should hide  
The fact, and( as it does great sins betide)  
None credited thy incest: yet thou'lt find  
A present pain, a self accusing mind,  
With horror big, and of is self afraid,  
Some unreaveled, none sin unpunished.  
Bridle thy impious love, a crime which yet  
No barbarous Nation ever did commit:  
To Goths, and Scythians, and those who on  
Inhospitable Taurus dwell unknown.  
From thy chaste breast expel these strange desires,  
Thy Mother warns thee from such uncouth sires:  
Shall Son, and Father have one common bed,  
Thy impious womb filled with a mixed seed?  
13 Well, do; with thy illicite flames make war  
Against Nature, and impose new Laws on her.  
We are at want of Monsters, and of late  
Thy brother's Court( alas) is desolate!  
Shall unaccustomed births the world appall  
And Nature be as oft unnatural  
As a Cretense shall love?   Ph. 

I know dear Nurse,  
Your counsel's good, but I must follow worse;  
Fury compelleth: Wittingly I stray,  
Striving in vain my judgement to obey▪  
So when an over-burdened ship receives  
The unwelcome Buffets of encountering waves,  
Vain is the seaman's toil, in spite of them  
The Vessel goes with the prevailing stream.  
Love reason vanquishes, and countermands  
Nor will admit a rival where he reigns,  
His kingdom is the World, he hath great Jove  
Scorched with the unruly flames of Love.  
Fired the breast of the stern God of war.  
And the dread-thunder-forging Mulciber;  
He, who in Aetna, doth for ever turn,  
The glowing Embers with a spark doth burn  
Phoebus himself who aims his shafts so true,  
By the more skilful Boy is wounded too.  
Gri●vous his power in Heaven, in Earth the same.   Nu. 

Lust favouring Vice did first this Godhead frame  
And that it might the greater freedom have  
The name of Deity to fury gave.  
Condemned( forsooth) by Venus for to live  
Thoroug● the World a restless fugitive  
He, as he through the yielding air doth fly,  
Fashions his troublesome Artillery;  
And now this Little one so great is grown  
The Gods submit to his dominion.  
These Vanities were feigned: Some guilty mind  
To her a Godhead, him a bow assigned.  
Swelled with prosperity who flows in Vice  
Not daining to admit one pleasure twice;  
Lust the companion of great Fortunes waits  
On him: he is not pleased with wont cates  
Firm-builded houses, nor your grosser meat.  
Why doth this Pallace-haunting plague retreat  
From humble roofs? a pious Love dwells there:  
The Vulgar have affections void of fear.  
Princes, and rich men will have more than right  
When meaner men can curb their appetite.  
Who but too much can do, yet would that he  
Could more. Consider thou thy quality  
And thy returning husband's sceptre fear   Ph. 

Alas Love sways his powerful sceptre here  
And I fear no returns, none gone from hence  
To the dark house of death find passage thence.   Nu. 

Be not too credulous, say the gates of Hell  
Were shut, and Cerberus the sentinel:  
Theseus hath forced the way hath been forbid.   Ph. 
Yet he perhaps would pardon, if did.  Nu. 

Why He was cruel to a wife was chaste  
14 Antiope can testify his haste.  
But grant we might appeal thy angry Spouse,  
Yet who can move the stern Hippolytus?  
He doth abhor the very name of wife,  
And obstinately vows a single life.  
Marriage he shuns, an Amazon thou knows.   Ph. 

Stay, he in mountains crowned with frequent snows,  
Or fly he over the sharp rocks; I will  
Follow him through the woods, and o'er the hills.   Nu. 

Will he be tempted who resisteth Love?  
Will he chaste pleasures for unchaste remove?  
Be kind to thee, for whom( perhaps) alone  
He hates the sex?   Ph. 
With prayers he may be won.  Nu. 
he's cruel.  Ph. 
Love tameth the cruel too.  Nu. 
he'll fly.  Ph. 
Fly he by Sea, I will pursue.  Nu. 
Remember thou thy Father.  Ph. 

We do call  
Our 15 Mother too, to memory withal.   Nu. 
All womankind he hates.  Ph. 

I am the more  
Secure, of being rivaled with a whore.   Nu. 
Theseus' will come.  Ph. 
And 16 Pirithous together.  Nu. 
Thy Father'l come.  Ph. 
What 17 Ariadne's Father.  Nu. 

By these dear breasts, by these time-dyed hairs,  
And by this bosom overworn with cares,  
I pray thee have compassion on thyself.  
For to desire it is a piece of health,   Ph. 

I have not lost all shame: Nurse I obey.  
The Love I cannot rule I conquer may.  
Thou shalt not suffer in thy Fame; this is  
The only reason bridles my amiss.  
18 My Husband will I follow, and prevent  
My sin by death.   Nu. 

Dear Madam, some restraint,  
Give to these passions▪ I the more esteem  
Your life, because you do yourself condemn.   Ph. 

Yes, die I will: but whether halter, knife,  
Or leap from Pallas tower conclude my life  
I know not yet. Oh that my chastity  
Can only guarded by self-ruin be.   Nu. 

What think'st thou me? so impotent my age  
To suffer this? yet moderate thy rage.   Ph. 

To such as merit, and resolve to die  
Reason in vain doth urge the contrary.   Nu. 

Thou only comfort of my aged years,  
Since so perverse, a fate thy will o'er bears,  
Contemn thy fame. Fame speaks not as it should  
Good to the bad, and bad unto the good.  
Let us aslay him, and this Nature prove,  
So froward, so intractable to Love.  
This labour shall be mine; I'll undertake  
The Stubborn youth, and exorable make.   Exeunt. CHORUS. 

1 GOddess, the offspring of the troubled flood,  
And Mother to as troublesome a God,  
2 The twined Cupid; with what a certain aim,  
Alike immoderate in his flames and them,  
The boy his shafts doth level! the disease  
Creeps through the marrow and impoverishes  
With an insinuating fire the veins.  
The Wound appeareth not in scars, but pains  
Within, ransacks the very bones; this boy  
To peace is a professed enemy.  
Thorough the world, his shafts are nimbly thrown,  
Those Coasts that first salute the rising Sun,  
Or ●id him last good night: those that do sweat  
Under the torrid Crabs consuming heat,  
And those which do beneath the cold Bear freeze,  
Peopled but with uncertain Colonies  
Have felt these flames; in youth he blows the fire,  
Reviveth age-extinguished desire  
In crazed limbs, and the cold virgin's snow  
Melts with a warmth her bosom doth not know.  
At his command the Gods forsake the skies,  
And borrowed shapes obscure their Deities.  
Phoebus' his harp lays by; unequal reeds  
3 Gather the herd he in Thessalia feeds.  
4 How often hath the cloud-dispelling Jove  
Been clothed in the meanest shapes for love?  
Now like a Swan he claps his silver wings,  
And sweeter than the dying true one sings.  
Now like a wanton Steer in play doth take  
The royal Virgin on his humbled back,  
With his oare-imitating feet he ply●s  
His 5 brothers waves, and unknown Realms descries;  
He breaks the Sea with his opposed breast,  
Of his fair Rape, feared to be disposest.  
The clear-faced Goddess of the night hath burned,  
And over her forsaken Chariot turned  
To her unskilful Brother; now the Sun  
Doth learn to drive two horses, and doth run,  
A shorter course; day rises slowly, and night,  
Keeps no proportion with the wronged light  
Retarded by the unaccustomed weight▪  
7 Alcides hath his quiver laid aside,  
And the Nemaean Lions dreadful hide;  
Now he the Emra●ld to his finger fits  
And his neglected hair in order fits.  
With gold-embroidered buskins he doth bind  
His legs, his feet, in yellow socks contained,  
And with that hand in which the club was born  
He twists the thread, and doth the spindle turn.   

Persia, and fruitful Lydia saw the skin  
Of the fierce beast lie by rejected then;  
And those huge shoulders, which did once support  
And serve for pilla●s to the heavenly Court,  
Clad in a Pall with Tyrian purple died,  
The fire is sacred,( credit those have tried)  
And but too potent; for as far as land  
By the salt Ocean is environed, and  
The scattered Stars illuminate the sky,  
Reaches the Kingdom of this peevish boy.  
Though guarded by the interposed seas,  
His darts have wounded 8 the Nereids;  
Nor could the Ocean quench the kindled flame,  
The feathered Nation too hath felt the same,  
By lust provoked; how the fierce Bull hath warred  
To be the sole Commander of the Herd!  
The timorous Hart his rival once in sight,  
Fearless, himself addresses to the fight;  
And testifies his fury with his voice.  
Then the black Indies tremble at the noise,  
Of spotted tigers: Then, all white his mouth.  
With rage engendered foam, the wild Boar doth  
His deadly tusks whet: The lion when  
He feels this sting of Love, his horrid mane  
Tosses on high, the very forest faints  
Then with the noise of her inhabitants.  
The Monsters of the deep this power have proved,  
Both they, and the Lucanian ox have loved.  
Nature doth claim a privilege in all,  
Her yoke is universal, hate doth fall  
At the command of Love, that ancient fire  
Extinguished by the new one of desire,  
Why should I more rehearse? it is enough  
We see a stepdames bosom not of proof  
Against the struck of Love. What news bringst thou?  
Speak Nurse, and say, where thou halt left her now.   
Finis Actus Primi.    

Actus Secundi.  

Scena Prima.  

Nurse.   Nu. 

NO hope can salve this sore, nor will that fire  
Be ever quenched which frenzy raizes higher  
Although no crackling flame, although concealed  
In her close brest, 'tis by her face revealed;  
Her Yes do sparkle, and her shrink checks fly  
The light. Best pleased with variety  
Is her divided soul; her body feels  
The motion of her troubled spirit and reels.  
Now her faint limbs a dying measure tread,  
And scarce her weary neck sustains her head;  
Now would she resta while, but straight forbears  
Forgotten sleep, and spends the night in tears:  
She rises, and again is laid: she loses  
Her scattered 〈◊〉, and again composes;  
She varies habit, weary of herself,  
And grows regardless both of food and health;  
So languishingly goes, her strength decayed  
And from her checks the withered roses fade.  
Care doth dissolve her joints: a trembling pace  
She holds, not near so comely as she was.  
And those same eyes, that testified her line  
From Phoebus, nothing like her Grandsire shine.  
Still are her cheeks with tears bedewed: so  
A warm shower melteth the dilated snow  
Upon the cliffs of Taurus; but behold  
The Court is open, where on a couch of gold  
Leans the inclined Lover, and her brain  
Distempered, doth her own attire disdain.   Ph. 

Good maids these gold and purple garments bear  
From hence, what should the Tyrian die do here?  
Or wool, which the trees mollified rind  
Yields to the Sexes? a short Zone shall bind  
My loins, for expedition girt; no load  
Of pearl, on us by Indian Seas bestowed,  
Shall lengthen out my cares, nor will I deck  
With any carcanet my widowed neck.  
No perfume my dishevelled hair doth need,  
Careless upon my neck and shoulders spread,  
And by the wind displayed, my left shall bear  
A quiver, and my right hand shake a spear.  
1 Such was Hippolita, and as she guides  
From frozen Tanais, and Maeotis sides  
Her troops to Attic coasts, her hair collected  
Into a knot, and then again rejected;  
A Crescent shield gaurding her side, even so  
Accoutred I, into the woods will go.   Nu. 

Comp●in no more, grief doth not ease( great Queen)  
The wrete●ed. Will the fire observe a mean?  
Invoke the Virgin Goddess of the wood.  
Hail sacred Queen of forests, whose abode  
Alone is on the hills; alone who art  
There worshipped, these dire portents avert.  
Thou, the woods awful deity: the bright  
Planet of Heaven, the ornament of night,  
One of the world's alternate lamps, the trine  
Aspected Hecate favour our design.  
Tame this hard-hearted youth, that he may learn  
To love, and with a mutual ardour burn;  
Incline his cares, his breast unarm, his mind  
Engraft in hers, though froward, harsh, unkind;  
Let him pay Venus' homage, thus thy might  
Employ. So still unshaded be thy light.  
Through the dispersed clouds making thy way  
With thy resplendent horns: so from thy sway  
2 May no Thessalian Witches thee constrain,  
3 Nor thou thy honour forf●it to a Swain.   

Goddess invoked, thou'st heard my prayer, lo now  
I see him paying of his yearly vow.  
Alone he is, wherefore are these delays?  
Art must be used. Fortune gives time and place.  
What tremble I? 'tis hard for to obey  
A Crime, but he that fears a prince must lay  
Conscience aside, and modesty expel,  
The bashful never served a Monarch well.    

Actus Secundi. Scena Secunda.  

Hippolytus.  
Nurse.   Hip. 

THy weary steps why hither bendest thou  
With such a clouded face, & troubled brow,  
Good Nurse? I hope my Father is not dead,  
Nor Phaedra, nor the pledges of their bed.   Nu. 

Fear not, obsequious Fortune, on thy house,  
Still waits, and still the land is prosperous.  
But thou, mild as thy houses fate, to me,  
Give e●r, who'm so solicitous for thee;  
Because thou thus affl●ctst thyself, whom fate  
Makes wretched, we may well commiserate▪;  
But who court danger, and themselves abuse  
With needless tortures, they deserve to lose  
Those blessings which they knew not how to use.  
Rather in pity of thy years, thy mind  
Release, and in a festive measure joined,  
Advance thy torch; in wine thy sorrows drown  
Enjoy thy youth, which will be gone too soon.  
Now apt for all Impressions is thy breast,  
Venus to young men, is a welcome guest.  
Now glad thy soul: Why shouldst thou lie alone?  
Solace thy youth, but too unpleasant grown:  
Sl●cken the reins, wholly to riot bent.  
Nor let thy better days be thus misspent.  
The Gods draw out our lives by their degrees  
All 〈◊〉 them p●culiar properties.  
Cheerful when young, in age reserved. Why doth  
A hard restraint thus kill thy toward youth?  
A large increase shall crown the husband's toil,  
Whose seed is tightly fitted to his soil:  
And all the trees are overgrown by those  
Which still uncropped preserve their maiden boughs.  
Good dispositions greatest praise do merit  
When natural freedom guides a noble spirit.  
Savage, and ignorant, thou to a wife  
Preferrest a melancholy single life.  
Dost thou think toil a privilege? to ride  
The fiery cour●er till he lose his pride,  
Or try the bloody issue of a field?  
When the eternal providence beheld  
So many enemies to life he made  
Fresh offsprings to replenish the decayed.  
Go too. Let Venus of human affairs  
Dispose, who our diminished stock repairs;  
Should but our youth be barren all thou sees,  
After an ages standing vanishes.  
Covered' with rubbish, the uncultured land  
Would lie, the sea unnavigated stand,  
The empty forest; beasts, air, birds would want,  
The wind being the sole inhabitant.  
How many casual deaths on mankind wait,  
Extinguished by the sea, the sword, deceit!  
But say that these were wanting: yet to all  
For to pursue their end is natural.  
Nature the guide of life, obeyed, frequent  
The city then, and public meetings haunt.   Hip. 

There is no life more free, void of offence▪  
Or nearer to the pristine Innocence,  
Than what is to the woods confined, who lives  
With a clear Conscience on the mountains cliffs  
Is not enslamed with avarice, nor draws  
The air of seldom merited applause.  
Is not with envy swelled, nor kindness blown,  
Nor favourite, nor vassal to a crown.  
He covets not vain honours, nor th' uncertain tide  
Of wealth, not hope and fear do him divide  
Him scarce the poisonous tooth of malice wounds  
Nor doth he know the usual crimes of towns,  
And great concourses, fears not every noise  
Like guilty persons, nor inventeth lies;  
A thousand columns don't his roof uphold,  
Nor are his rafters fastened with gold.  
His Altars do not flow with streams of blood,  
Nor, with the sacred 1 meal, their foreheads strewed,  
A hecatomb of white oxen expects  
The stroke of death, and bow their hundred necks.  
But he the country doth enjoy, endued  
With a most sweet and pleasing solitude▪  
Harmless he wanders through the open air,  
Nor can he any thing but beasts ensnare.  
And, when with labour faint, his weary limbs  
Refreshes with Ilissos' crystal streams.  
Now he on banks of swift Alpheus lies,  
Now thickest coverts of the wood descries,  
( Where cool Lerna through her transparent spring  
Shows her clear bottom,) ever wandering.  
Here birds complain, there th'ancient Beech receive  
Some gentle wind, and shakes her tremblng leaves  
Strech●d on a winding shore he loves to take  
A nap, and the bare turf his bed doth make;  
Whither a fountain falls in scattered showers,  
Or flying streams salute the newborn flowers  
With murmuring courtship: Wildings are his food,  
And strawb'ries gathered from the underwood.  
Meats quickly cooked, he delights to fly  
Far from the Courts excessive luxury,  
Let the ambitious drink in golden cups.  
With what a gust he the pure fountain sups  
From his convexed palm; and sleep more sound  
Securely laid on the obdurate ground.  
He lewdly seeks not a retired bed,  
Nor in close corners hides his fearful head:  
But he doth the fresh air, and light enjoy,  
And that he liveth, Heaven can testify.  
I verily believe those Heroes did  
Live thus whom after ages deified.  
They had no thirst of gold, no sacred stones  
Did limit their unknown possessions.  
Bold▪ ships ploughed not the deep, to foreign shores;  
But kept to their own seas, no lofty towers  
And ample bulwarks did the city fence,  
In arms an universal ignorance.  
No engines forced the gates, no oxen ploughed  
The earth; she wore no badge of servitude,  
Flelds fruitful of themselves sufficed to feed  
A sparing people that did little need.  
Woods native riches, and some shady cave  
To them unartificial lodgings gave.  
First headstrong wrath, a furious love of gain,  
And lust, which in inflamed minds doth reign,  
Broke this integrity, then did there come  
A bloody thirst of Empire in the room.  
Great men did prey upon the less, and might  
Was chosen arbitrator unto right.  
Then with bare hands they fought: untrimed boughs  
And stones were the first weapons they did use.  
The cornel was not shod with ir'n, nor tied  
The soldier a long sword unto his side,  
Nor horses manes crested their helms; but vexed  
With smart they took the weapons that were next.  
Dire Mars invented warlike stratagems,  
And thousand forms of death, hence purple streams  
Defiled each land: blood died the blushing mane  
Then endless crimes in every house did reign:  
No sin but grew a precedent; the child,  
His Father, Brothers have their Brothers kill▪ d,  
Women their Husbands, wicked Mothers slew  
Their infant births. What then did stepdames do  
Nothing indeed's more mild than beasts, but this  
Woman, sins ringleader and Artifice  
Besets our souls, how many Cities are  
Fired by her Incests, lands engaged in war,  
And peoples by the ruined weight oppressed  
Of their own Countries? not to name the rest:  
3 Medea speaketh the sex cruel.   Nu. 

Why.  
Condemnest thou all for ones Impiety.   Hip. 

I sly, abhor, curse all. Whether it from  
Reason, or nature, or mere frenzy come:  
I love to hate them: Water shall abide  
Sooner with fire: V●ssels securely ride  
In the devouring 4 Syrtes; the bright day  
Sooner shall rise from the Hesperian Sea,  
And wolves be mild to kids, than this my mind  
Admit a courteous thought of womankind.   Nu. 

Love, the perverse oft tameth, and removes  
All hatred 5 this thy Mother Country proves.  
Even that fierce Nation did obey the will  
Of Love, or thou hadst been ungotten still.   Hip. 

In this respect I'm glad my mother's dead,  
Because my hate is now unlimited.  
As a fixed rock on every side, in vain  
Assailed by waves, doth beat them back again;  
So he despises what I say: but see  
Where the impatient lover comes( ah me)  
What Fate attends her? whither falleth she?  
Upon the earth her body breathless lies,  
And death-like paleness doth benight her eyes▪  
Madam look up, unloose your tongue, behold,  
Hippolitusses arms do you enfold.    

Scena Tertia.  

Phaedra.  
Hippolytus.  
Nurse.   

Who calls me back to grief; my bosom fired  
A new? how sweetly had I here expired?  
But why refuse I life? courage my mind,  
Try, execute what thou thyself enjoined.  
Speak boldly, she, who fearfully doth crave,  
Begs a denial; my worst crime I have  
Acted long since. Shame cometh now too late,  
drop reg've loved a sin, if in it fortunate,  
A husband's name may palliate the deed▪  
Those sins are oft thought honest, which succeed▪  
Go too, begin my soul. Sir, I a while desire  
Your privacy: let all the rest retire.   Hip. 
See here is none to interrupt us; speak.  Ph. 

But my sealed lips cannot the silence break.  
Both urged to speech, and forced to be still.  
I call you Gods to witness that my will.   Hip. 
Can you not speak your mind.  Nu. 

Great griefs are best  
By silence, little ones by words expressed.   Hip. 
Mother give me the burden of your cares.  Ph. 

The name of Mother to much distance bears.  
An Humbler name becomes our Love. Call us  
Thy sister, or thy maid, Hippolytus.  
But rather maid. I the most slavish yoke  
Will wear. Command it shall be undertook.  
I'll climb the frozen Pindus through deep snows  
Run through the fire, and armed troops; expose  
My naked breast to naked swords, receive  
1 This sceptre then, and let me be thy slave.  
To rule becometh thee, me to obey.  
It ill becomes a woman's arm to sway  
So great a Nation, thou who be in the pride  
Of blooming youth, thy father's people guide.  
Protect thy suppliant in thy bosom hid.  
Take pity on a widow.   Hip. 

Heaven forbid:  
Madam my Father will come safely back:   Ph. 

●rom Styx, and those insatiate realms no tract  
Doth lead to the forsaken light, shall he  
2 Who came a ravisher, dismissed be?  
‛ Less Plut'ol sit down a tame Cuckold too.   Hip. 

Heavens far more equal power this will do.  
But while it yet rests in suspense, I'll please  
My Brethren with all fitting offices  
Protect Thee, that thou seem not widowed: I  
The absence of my Father, will supply.   Ph. 

O credulous Lovers! O deceitful Love!  
Hath he not said enough? now prayers shall move.  
O pity; hear even my silence woo.  
I would, yet would not speak.   Hip. 
What ailest thou?  Ph. 
That which thou little thinks a stepdame should  Hip. 
Speak plainly and thy doubtful words unfold.  Ph. 

Why Love within my raging bosom fumes,  
And with a cruel fire my reins consumes.  
The flame which in my bowels hid remains  
Thence shooteth up and down my melting veins,  
As agile fire over dry timber spread.   Hip. 
What with chaste love of Theseus thou art mad?  Ph. 

Thou art in the right: I love that ancient face  
Which Theseus had when he a stripling was;  
When first the down budding upon his chin  
He saw the house the 3 Minotaur was in,  
And crooked mazes the long thread up wound.  
How glorious then? his hair with sillets bound,  
A dainty blush over his cheek was spread,  
And his soft arms were the securest bed.  
Like thy Diana, or my Phoebus then;  
Or rather thee: thus, thus he looked, when  
He pleased his foe; thus loftily did bear  
His head, but thou art something handsomer;  
Thou'st all thy father's parts; and yet against  
Reason some of thy Mothers too retainest,  
A Scythian rigour in a Grecian face;  
Hadst thou come with thy Father in those days,  
Then Ariadne's clew had sure been thine,  
Thou, thou my Sister, wherefoere thou shine  
In spangled ●kies, a cause so like thine own  
Assist; one family hath both undone,  
The Father thee, and me the Son, thou sees  
A suppliant Princes fallen on her knees;  
Free from aspersions, innocently good;  
Changed but to thee; I'm sure none else have wooed  
This day to grief, or life an end shall bring,  
Pity a Lover.   Hip. 

Thou Almighty King  
Of Gods canst thou so mildly see, so mildly hear  
Her wickedness? if now the Heavens be clear,  
When wilt thou thunder? let the troubled air  
Now run on heaps, and day a Vizard wear.  
May the reversed Stars now backwards Run.  
And what dost thou, thou the irradi●te Sun  
Behold thy Grand●ilds lusts? for shame lay by  
Thy beams, and into utter darkness fly.  
And why art thou idle Spectator turned  
Great Jove, the world not yet with lightning burned,  
Thunder at me; let thy quick flame consume  
Me, I am wicked, and deserve the doom.  
drop reg've pleased my stepdame, merit I to be  
Inc●ous thought? for this Impiety.  
Seemed I most fit? deserves my strictness this?  
O Women excellent in wickedness!  
O thou in thy unbounded lusts more wild  
Than was thy Mother! she only defiled  
Herself, yet was the wicked theft betrayed  
By the Prodigious issue which she had;  
The doubtful birth witnessed his mother's shame  
With his fierce look, from the same womb thou came  
Thrice happy are they in their prosp'●ous fate  
Who are by fraud consumed, destroyed by hate;  
Father I envy thee: this sin, this sin,  
Is greater than Medea's could have been.   Ph. 

I know our houses Fate▪ I crave, I know  
What is forbid, but cannot help it tho,  
Thee through flames, o'er rocks; the foaming deep,  
And heady torrents company I'll keep.  
Where e'er thou goes, there frantic I will be,  
Behold coy youth, again I kneel to thee.   Hi. 

Keep of, and touch not my chaste limbs, what now  
Immodest wretch, wilt thou embrace me too?  
Then shall my sword due vengeance take; my hand  
Wreathed in her hair, her shameless neck doth bend.  
Bow-bearing Goddess, never blood with more  
Justice was on thy Altars spilt before.   Ph. 

Why now Hippolytus, I have my wish:  
Thou cursed my frenzy; 'bove my hope was this,  
To perish by thy hand, and chaste.   Hip. 

Avaunt,  
And live; lest any thing to thee I grant,  
Nor shall this steel, by thee polluted, ere  
Defile my chaster side by hanging there.  
What Tanais, what Maeotis, which doth pay  
His water's tribute to the Pontic sea  
Can wash me clean? not all great Neptune's floods  
Can expiate this crime. O Beasts! O Woods!   Nu. 

Why so dull sulled? now the crime is known  
Let us plead force and uncompelled own  
The impious act. Sin is best hid by sin,  
Who fear to be accused, should begin.  
Whether the lewd attempt were ours or his,  
Since secret, who shall be his witnesses?   

Help, help, Athenians servants; the obscene  
Hippolytus is ravishing the Queen;  
Her with his naked sword he threatneth,  
And awes her chastity with fear of death.  
See now he flies, and by his fearful speed  
Hath left his sword, a witness of the deed.  
First cheer the Queen, but let her hair still be  
Thus torn, and thus disordered as you see.  
These pregnant testimonies of an act  
So vile, bear to the City; recollect  
Your senses; Madam, Why, alas, do you,  
Afflict yourself, and sly the public view?  
No Woman ever was from the event  
Esteemed immodest, but from the assent.   Exeunt. CHORUS. 

SWift as a tempest doth he fly so fast  
Cloud-gathering▪ Chorus doth not make such haste  
A shooting Meteor doth more slowly stream,  
When rapid winds fan the extended flame.  
Now may admiring Fame confer on thee  
The honour due to all antiquity:  
For so thy beauty doth all others pass,  
As Phoebe seemeth fairer than she was,  
When at the full she doth her fire combine  
With meeting horns, and all the night doth shine  
Blushing she rises. and the lesser stars  
Do lose themselves in ●hat great light of hers.  
The evening star appeareth not more bright  
When first he ushers in the sable night,  
Now 2 Hesperus when rising from the main,  
But in the morning Lucifer again.   

Nor thou 3 Bacchus for ever young, thy hair  
Unshorn, and vines wreathed about thy spear,  
With which thou dost thy sluggish tigers wound,  
Thy horned temples with a Mitre bound,  
Dost his untrimmed locks excel; nor set  
Thy beauty( Theseus) on too high a rate,  
Because the rumour generally goes,  
That Phaedra's 4 sister thee 'fore Bacchus chose.  
Beauty thou most uncertain good, the gay  
And fading treasure of a short-lived day  
With winged feet how dost thou post away!  
The scorching heat of summer hath not killed  
So soon, the verdant glory of the field;  
Ith' middle of the Solstice, when the night  
Contracts herself, and makes more room for light:  
As these fair colours that adorn the face  
Are in a moment gone; no day doth pass  
But may the ruins of some beauty boast,  
Form is a fading thing. O! who would trust  
So frail a good? use it while thou hast power,  
For time doth steal away, and every hour,  
Is worse than that which went before,  
Why lov'st thou deserts? beauty is I'm sure  
In those untrodden paths, as unsecure  
If hide from middayes heat in woods thou be  
Loose rings of 5 Naiads will compass thee,  
Who choicest youths imprison in their streams:  
And wanton 6 Silvans shall ensnare thy dreams.  
Or if the 7 Moon thought younger than the old  
Arcadians from her Starry orb behold  
That she with wonder will be six●d there.  
Of late she blushed, nor any clouds appear  
To v●il her naked Lustre, but we grown  
Solicitous for th' colour she was on▪  
8 Our kettles beat against Thessalian sp●lls  
When besides thee, she had no 〈◊〉 else;  
Thou wert her only cause of stay, and she  
But stopped her chariot while she looked on thee.  
Let fewer frosts but ●ip thee, and the rays  
Of Phoebus seldomer salute thy face,  
It will excel the Parian Marble, how  
That pleasing frown becomes thy manly brow!  
How grave a Majesty is seated there!  
Although thy neck might with the Suns compare  
His flowing tresses on his shoulders spread  
With which he's both adorned and covered:  
That rugged front, becoming thee, and those  
Short curls, which only Nature doth compose  
Though the most warlike Gods thou mightst defy  
And from the combat bear the Victory:  
Though now, while yet a youth thou equalest,  
Alcides brawny arms, or Mars his chest.  
If when thou ride, Castor never reined  
His Cyllarus with such an even hand.  
If when thy finger to the loop made fast,  
With all thy force thou dost thy javelin cast;  
The Creta●s cannot shoot so far, who be  
Esteemed Masters in Artillery,  
Or Parthian like, direct thy shafts on high  
And none return unblouded from the sky;  
But in her bowels sixt, do make the bird  
Thy prey which in the middle region fored.  
Yet( search all ages records for their fate)  
The fair have seldom proved fortunate.  
Some milder God protect thee, and may thou  
Live till thou be deformed, so aged too.  
What dare not vexed women do? what snares  
She to entrap the guiltless youth prepares,  
Her cheeks she doth be●ew; her head undresses,  
And seeks belief, in her disordered tresses.  
All guile is comed by woman, but who's he,  
That in his face such marks of Majesty  
Doth bear; his head erected with that state?  
How like Hippolytus he is! but that  
His cheeks do such a ghastly paleness wear,  
And such a filth doth clothis flagging hair.  
See Theseus self returned to Earth is there.   
Finis Actus Secundi.    

Actus Tertii.  

Scena Prima.  

Theseus.  
To him Nurse.   Th. 

AT length returned from nights gloomy coasts  
And th' Pole which shadows the imprisoned ghosts  
How light offends mine eyes; now is the corn  
1 Triptolemusses gift, the fourth time shorn;  
Four equinoctialss now hath 2 Libra seen;  
While I uncertain of my Fate have been,  
Betwixt the Ills of life and death divided. I  
Retained this part of life, when I did lie  
Buri●d my sense remained. Great Hercules  
Dragging the 3 dog from hell did finish these  
M●series, and brought me thence, but now it wants  
The prop of strength, my tired courage faints.  
And my legs tremble; what ado had I  
To come within the prospect of the sky,  
From Phlegethons' Abyss! the toil did seem  
Alike to sly from death, and follow him  
But stay, what sudden outcries pierce mine ears?  
Speak some one: In my gates, complaints, and tears,  
And sorrow in variety expressed?  
Indeed fit welcomes for a hellish guest.   Nu. 

Phaedra resolves to die; she doth despise,  
Our bootless tears, and even now she dies.   Th. 
What cause of death? why die? now I am come?  Nu. 
Even that doth hasten her untimely doom.  Th. 

Thy doubtful speech some great thing doth presage  
Speak plainly, whence proceeds so wild a rage?   Nu. 

In her own bosom she concealeth that,  
To die determined, none must know for what;  
Forward, good Sir, forward, the business might  
Crave your best speed.   Th. 
Open the door there straight.   

Actus Tertii. Scena Secunda.  

Theseus.  
Phaedra.  
Nurse.  
Servants.   

O Partner of my bed, dost thou receive  
Me thus? This all the welcome I must have;  
Lay by this sword; restore my troubled sense,  
And say, what fury doth persuade thee hence.   Ph. 

Alas great Theseus, by thy sceptre, by  
The toward hopes of thy Posterity,  
By thy return, and me now dost permit  
Me here to die.   The. 
What cause requireth it?  Ph. 
The benefit were lost the cause once known.  The. 

Why none shall hear it but myself alone.  
Dost thou mistrust thy Husband? never fear  
My breast will prove a faithful Treasurer.   Ph. 
Conceal thou first, what thou wouldst have concealed  The. 

Yet shall all means of dying be withheld  
From thee.   Ph. 
The willing can't want means.  The. 

Relate,  
What crime thou with thy death wouldst expiate.   Ph. 
Why that I live.  The. 
Cannot my tears prevail?  Ph. 
That death is welcomest which friends bewail.  The. 

Well she is obstinate; but I will force  
What she conceals with torments from the Nurse.  
Load her with ir'ns, stripes shall make her betray  
What ere she knows.   Ph. 
Now I will tell you, stay.  The. 

Why dost thou turn away thy face, and seek  
To hide the tears, which trickle down thy cheek?   Ph. 

Thee, thee, Father of gods, and thee from whom  
Our houses first original did come,  
Day's brightest lamp, I call to witness how  
I neither to his prayers, nor threats did bow,  
And yet my body did his force sustain,  
But with my blood, I'll wash it clean again.   The. 
Say who hath been the ruin of our fame?  Ph. 
One whom then little thinks.  The. 
Tell me his name,  Ph. 

This sword will tell you, which he left, afeard  
To be attached by the alarmed guard,   The. 

Oh me! what crimes, what monstrous crimes do I  
Behold? rough with the little imagery,  
The livery hilt with those Illustrious 1 signs,  
Which glorify th' Actean Nation shines,  
But how escaped he?   Ph. 

Why these can say,  
With what a fearful speed he fled away.    

Actus Tertii. Scena Tertia.  

Theseus.   The. 

OH sacred Piety! O King of Gods,  
And thou who rul'st the 1 second Lot, the floods  
What rage possessed this impious brat? did Greece,  
Taurus or Colchian 2 Phasis teach him this?  
His deeds declare his line, and he hath showed  
Whence he first sprung by his degenerate bload.  
Those mad Viragos marriage do despise,  
And weary of their long kept Chastities  
Turn Prostitutes at last. O cursed root,  
Which when transplanted bears no better fruit!  
Yet even they fly Incest; an innate  
Shame doth keep nature's laws unviolate.  
Now where's his feigned austerity, desire  
To imitate the ancients rude attire,  
Strictness of manners, gravity of look?  
O juggling life, how art thou still mistake?  
The foulest soul wears the serenest face.  
The Impudent doth blush, Strife seems at Peace,  
Sin wears the robes of Piety, Deceit  
Applaudeth truth, and the effeminate  
A rigid abstinence do counterfeit.  
Thou the fierce Virgin Sylvan wert thou then  
Reserved for this? must thy sins write thee man?  
And in thy father's bed? now on my knees  
I humbly thank the careful Deities  
That I did kill Antiope: lest thou  
Hadst in my absence forced thy Mother too.  
Fly vagabond to unknown Realms, although  
Thou to the world's remotest countries go,  
Severed from Earth by interposing seas;  
Or shouldst thou dwell in the Antipodes,  
Or hide thyself in the obscurest hole,  
Beyond the Kingdoms of the Northern Pole;  
The seat of snow and winter left behind,  
And the cold blasts of that loud-threatning wind;  
Yet, yet the sword of vengeance should thee find.  
I will pursue thee everywhere, search places  
Remote, landlocked, abstuce, confounding mazes,  
And ways inexplicable; and where force  
Cannot arrive, I'll reach thee with a curse.  
Dost thou know whence I came? great 3 Neptune gave  
Me power three times to ask what I would have,  
And sealed his promise by the Stygian s●oud,  
Behold how sorrowful a boon I would.  
No more let him behold the light, but go  
From his wronged Father to the Ghosts below.  
To me thy Son a hated pity show▪  
This 4 last gift never had been asked, if I  
Were not oppressed by such an injury.  
When in the womb of hell, where D is did roar,  
And threatening Pluto stormed, I forbore.  
Make good thy promise now, why dost thou stay?  
Why hast thou still so undisturbed a Sea?  
With wind-contracted clouds, put out the light  
Of Stars, obscure the heavens', and mask the night;  
Pour out thy Seas, drive all thy Monsters hither,  
Call from the Deep the waves retired thither.   Exit. CHORUS. 

O Nature Mother to the Gods and Jove  
Who sway'st the bright Olympus, who dost move  
The Stars scattered in their swift O● be, and force  
Even those wanderers to observe a course,  
And on their hinges turnst the 1 Poles; Why art  
Thou always busied in the heavenly part?  
Still ordering those celestial Forms? why dost  
Thou take such care that now the winter's frost  
Sold strip the woods, and then agai●t▪ adorn,  
Them with fresh shades; that now the parched corn  
The rage of the hot 2 Lion should endure,  
Which the more temperate autumn doth mature?  
But why hast thou, who these dost regulate,  
And mov'st the spheres poised with their proper weight  
So little care of man: nor dost provide  
That good the good, and ill the ill betide.  
Mortals do follow the blind guide of chance  
Whose hood winked bounty doth the worst advance.  
The holy perish in the crafty toils  
Of lust: The Court is governed by wiles.  
The people love to give the wicked power,  
And as soon hate whom they do now adore.  
Dejected virtue reapeth but a small  
Reward for doing well; the chaste do fall  
Under the curse of want: while potent vice  
Is crowned for his famed Adulte●ies.  
Vain Modesty: and empty Fame!— but stay,  
What doth the breathless Nuncius haste to say,  
And sadly stopping, what sinister Chance  
Figures he in his woeful Countenance?   
Finis Actus Tertii.    

Actus Quarti.  

Scena Prima.  

Nuncius.  
Theseus.   Nun. 

O The sad Fate of Servants! Why am I  
The messenger of our calamity.   Th. 

Speak thy news boldly; custom thou shalt find  
For all afflictions hath prepared my mind.   Nun. 
My tongue refuses the sad office.  The. 

Say, What fresh  
Misfortunes our declining house oppress?   Nun. 
Ah me, your Son is dead.  The. 

I wept, my Son  
Long since: now but a rausher is gone.  
But speak the manner.   Nun. 

Why as he forsook  
The City, painting hatred in his look,  
Away he flieth with redoubled speed,  
And quickly harnesses his lofty Steeds,  
Their mettaled heat, he with the curb allays,  
And divers things unto himself he says;  
Curses your throne, oft on your name doth call  
And fiercely shakes his slackened reins withal;  
When suddenly the Sea did roar and swell  
Up to the Stars; not any breathing gale  
Did crisp the floods; no thunder tore the air,  
The Sea itself raised a tempest there.  
Sicilian Seas are with the South-wind less  
Disturbed, nor half that fury do express  
When 1 Chorus rains, stones tumbling up and down  
And with white spume doth high 2 Leucates crown.  
A hill of waves big with a Monster fled  
Unto the shore to be delivered.  
Nor is this tempest for the ships prepared  
But for the land, the Sea rolls thitherward  
With a main speed; nor can we guess what she  
Should labour with; what uncouth prodigy  
Earth would show Heaven, a new 3 Cyclas did  
〈◊〉 4 E●culapius Temple now was hid,  
And the famed rocks of Scyron, and with these  
The land, straightened betwixt two neighbouring Seas.  
While these amazed we seek, behold the Main  
Doth roar, and all the rocks resound again;  
Whose tops are sprinkled with the waves, which he  
Sucks in, and spouteth forth Vicissively.  
So through the Ocean as the whirlpool roams  
A globe of water from his nostrils comes.  
Anon this mountain bursts, and to the shore  
Brings something worse, than was our fear before,  
The Sea doth follow where the Monster lead,  
And overwhelms the land, we shook with dread.   The. 
What was the shape of this prodigious beast?  Nun. 

He like a bull erects his seagreen crest,  
And virid front: tosses his mane, his ears  
Pricks up, and party coloured horns he bears:  
Such as might both the conduct of the herd  
Become, and the Seas Issues he appeared:  
His e●es do sparkle, and he vomits flame:  
His neck curled like the Ocean whence he came,  
His open nostrils snort aloud: his chest  
And deawlap in tenacious Moss are dressed:  
His ample sides with red are spotted, than  
Ends in a Monster; his huge slimy train  
Dragged after him, in farthest Seas those Whales  
Have such which swallow up the obvious sails.  
Earth trembles with the load: astonished fly  
The scattered cattle, nor are followed by  
Th' affrighted Pastor, beasts the forest clear;  
And all the Huntsmen are half dead with fear.  
Only Hippolytus unmoved remains,  
And his amazed Steeds with straighter reins▪  
Encouraged by his well-known voice retains.   

Towards Argos lies a steep and craggy way,  
Which all the neighbouring Ocean doth survey:  
Here this vast bulk doth whet himself, and act  
In jest first, what he doth intend in fact.  
But when he felt his rage increase, and had  
Now long enough with his own fury played;  
Away he flies, scarce any print remains,  
And just before the trembling chariot stands.  
Your Son ne'er changeth colour, but doth rise  
With angry looks, and thus aloud he cries;  
I shall not easily be afraid of this;  
To conquer Bulls 5 hereditary is.  
But straight his disobedient Steeds, their load  
Did carry thence, and having missed the road  
They followed as their fury lead, and o'er  
Uueven rocks the jolting Chariot bore.  
He, as a skilful Pilot taketh care  
In a rough Sea to keep his vessel fair,  
And with his art beguiles the waves; doth guide  
His horses, now he draws their mouths aside  
With the strained bit, and now the scourge he uses;  
Nor all the way his foul companion loses:  
Now side by side, he keeps an equal pace:  
Now right before; and terror brings each ways.  
But here the flight doth end; just in the way  
Standeth the horned Monster of the Sea.  
Th'affrighted Steeds than lost all rule, and strove  
To run down headlong from the rocks above;  
Rising before they cast your Son, who, as  
He fell, within the reins entangled was,  
Which wound about his body, and the more  
He struggled held him faster than before.  
They with the empty Chariot run, this known  
As their fear guides; commanded now by none  
So feeling a strange weight, and scorning that  
Day was committed to a counterfeit,  
Hurried through the air, the Chariot of the Sun  
Shook from his seat the unskilful 6 Phaeton  
His blood besmears the fields: his head the rocks  
Doth beat, and Brambles tear away his locks;  
Sharp stones disfigure his fair face, and by  
Whole troops of wounds, his hapless form destroy.  
The swift wheels drag, his dying limbs at last  
His corpse on an erected stake is fast.  
Struck through the middle of his groin, a while  
He stayed his chariot fixed on a pile;  
His steeds made a short halt, but quickly they  
At once both broke their Master, and delay.  
Then briers and thorns his half-dead body tear,  
And eur'y bush, a piece of him doth wear.  
His woeful servants are dispersed to find,  
Where his blood marks the way, he thus disjoined  
Hippolytus; the howling Beagles go  
In gu●st of their dissevered Master too.  
Nor all their diligence as yet completes,  
The corpse, is this the honour beauty gets?  
Who now, Partner, and heir unto a Crown,  
As bright as any Constellation shone;  
Is gathered to his Urn in pieces now  
O Nature, but too prevalent art thou.  
What ties of blood dost thou on Parents lay,  
Which we, even against our wills, obey!  
Whom dead I wished, now dead I weep for,   Nun. 

None.  
Enough can weep, for what themselves have done.   The. 

Mortals abide no greater curse, than when  
Constrained to wish what they unwish age●.   Nun. 
Why do you weep, if you retain your hate?  The. 
Not that he's dead, but that I caused his fate.  Exeunt. CHORUS. 

HOw fickle is the state of man! the poor  
Do not the fiercest storms of chance endure;  
She strikes them with her lightest strokes, they be  
Crowned with content though in obscurity;  
A homely cottage doth the eyelids close  
With a secure and undisturbed repose.  
Those lofty towers near neighbours to the sky  
Receive the East and South-winds battery;  
The rage of the tempestuous Boreas, and  
The showr-accommpanied Chorus stand.  
The humble valley is but rarely struck  
With thunder, when great 1 Caucasus hath shaken  
And 2 Ida trembled. 3 Jove himself afraid  
Of the sealed heavens, hath earth his refuge made.  
Plain homely roofs, and vulgar habitations  
Have no extraordinary alterations,  
When Kingdoms totter, on their crazed foundations  
Fortune doth fly with an uncertain wing,  
And none can boast he hath her in a string.   

He who redeemed from eternal night  
Again enjoys the comfort of the light,  
Now weepeth his return from Hell, and here  
Meeteth a greater cause of grief than there.   

Pallas, whom we to reverence are bound  
That Theseus freeed from the Stygian sound  
Again reveiws the heaven's; 〈◊〉 Virgin thou  
Art not beholding 4 to thy Uncle now:  
The greedy Tyrant hath his number still.   

What voice of weepings this? what bloody Scene  
With a drawn sword prepares the frantic Queen.   
Finis Actus Quinti.    

Actus Quintus.  

Theseus',  
Phaedra,  
Chorus,  
Servants.   Th. 

WHat fury doth possess thee? why this sword  
Wherefore about a body so abhored  
Are these complaints and tears?   Ph. 

On me, on me  
Pour forth thy wrath hard hearted deity;  
On me let lose thy Monsters, whatsoever  
Tethys doth in her hidden bosom bear:  
Whatever do in farthest Seas remain  
Embraced by the unstable Ocean.   

Oh Theseus ever fatal to thine own!  
Now thy return thy Father, and thy 1 Son,  
Have purchased with their lives; still thou thy house  
Destroy'st with Love or hatred of thy 2 Spouse;  
Oh my Hippolytus, and do I view  
Thee thus? and must I be the Author too?  
What 3 Scinis, what 4 Procrustes, what new kind  
O● 5 double-visaged Cretan bulls, confined  
〈◊〉 6 Daedalian Labyrinths, scattered  
T●y limbs? Oh! whither is thy beauty fled?  
〈◊〉 those eyes my stars! what, dead? Oh stay,  
A while, and hear me what I have to say.  
My language shall be chaste; this sword shall thee  
Into my bosom stabbed, revenge of me,  
And death shall make me be Phaedra no more,  
As my impiety did once before;  
Then will I follow thee through all the streams  
Of hell, through Styx, and channels filled with flams,  
Let me appease thy Ghost, here 7 take this hair,  
Which thus from the disordered fleece I tear.  
Though in our wills unequal, we may try  
An equal fate; if chaste, to Theseus die:  
If not, unto thy love; what shall I climb  
My husband's bed defiled by such a crime?  
Or was this sin undone, only that I,  
The abused Vindicator should enjoy  
Of an unviolated Chastity?  
O Death, the only cure of Love, who best  
A broken Modesty recementest  
To thee I fly: open thy quiet breast.   

Athenians hear, and thou a Father worse  
Than I a Stepdame, what I did rehearse  
Was false and wicked; forged in my distracted  
Bosom: thou'st punished; a sin unacted.  
By my incestuous guilt, guiltless and chaste  
He fell, now thy deserved praise thou hast.  
This sword shall pierce my impious breast, and bring  
My blood to thy wronged Ghost an offering.  
What thou shouldst do now thou hast lost thy son,  
Learn of a stepdame: fly to 8 Acheron.   The. 

You dark jaws of 9 Avernus, and you caves  
Of 10 Tenarus▪ with you forgetful waves  
Of 11 Lethe, grateful to the wretched, you  
〈◊〉 lakes assist to o●erwhelm me too;  
Load me with everlasting plagues, come now  
You monsters of the deep; whatever thou,  
12 Proteus hast hidden in the utmost womb  
Of the Ocean, and even that Ocean come,  
And me glorying in such a crime convey  
To the dark bosom of the profound sea.  
And thou too prone a Father to my wrath,  
Now I deserve to die, by a strange death;  
I have dispersed my Son, and while afraid  
To leave a false offence unpunished,  
Acted a true; what fourth lot can I try?  
13 Heaven, Hell, the sea by my impiety  
Are filled, already in each portion known  
Am I: Was my return for this alone?  
The way to light unstopped to show me these  
Sad and ingeminated obsequies?  
Widowed and childless I that might at once  
Kindle two funeral piles, my wives and sons?  
O thou to whom this dismal light I owe,  
Return me back unto those shades below.  
But, Impious, I do now in vain prefer  
Forsaken death; cruel Artificer,  
Who findest out new ways of blood, and death,  
Now find a curse thy sin which equalleth.  
Pines humbled to the earth by force, at their  
Release, my body shall in pieces tear,  
Or I will jump from Scyron's rocks. drop reg've seen  
Worse judgements, what their sufferings have been  
Girt with a mote of fire. I know what pains,  
And future mansion for myself remains.  
Make room you sinful Ghosts; thy endless toil  
Upon these shoulders lay, and rest the while  
Faint 14 Sicyphus: let that false river slip,  
When almost caught from this deluded lip.  
Let 15 Tityus vulture leave him, and for food  
Prey on my Liver still, to pain renewed.  
Rest my Pirithons' Father, while I, bound  
Unto thy wheel, keep the perpetual round.  
Gape Earth, receive me Hell, receive me: this  
A juster voyage for me thither is;  
My Son I follow: fear not thou, who sway'st  
That Ghostly Empire; my intent is chaste.  
In thy eternal house receive me then,  
Now never to escape from thence again▪  
The Gods are not so much as moved with prayer;  
But when I ask a crime, how quick they are!   Cho. 

Now pay the rites of funeral, and mourn,  
These limbs you see so misrably torn;  
You will have time enough to weep.   The. 

O bear  
Hither those relics I esteem so dear.  
Give me that burden, and those limbs, but too  
Irreverently gathered by you.  
Art thou Hippolytus? thou art, the deed  
I do confess, and I thy Parricide,  
lest I should sin but once, and that alone,  
Did call me Father when I slew my Son.  
See his paternal Legacy. O rage  
Which thus unp●oppest my declining age!  
Let me embrace these limbs, and what is yet  
Remaining in my bosom cherish it;  
Join these dissected members and digest  
Those parts in order which be thus displaced,  
Here put his right hand, here his left, once skilled  
In moderating of those reins it held.  
This mark in his left-side, I know how great  
A part have I to weep unfound as yet.  
Hold out my trembling hands, and you restrain  
My thirsty cheeks your ample showers of rain,  
While to my Son I count his limbs, and mould  
His body new. This piece no shape doth hold  
At all, with wounds so mangled 'tis unknown  
What part it is, but sure I am 'tis one.  
Here in this void, although not proper place  
It shall be laid: Is this that Heavenly face  
Humbled a stepdame's pride? that Beauty come  
To this? O Gods how cruel is your doom!  
Oh bloody fury! to thy Father thus  
Com'st thou, and by my wish Hippolytus?  
Here take my Sires last gift that I should bear  
Thee oft; mean while we'll burn these members here  
Open the morning Court, and with loud cries  
Let all the Town the funeral solemnize.  
Look you to th'Royall Pile; search you about  
The Fields to find what yet is wanting out,  
Give her the burial of a ditch, where laid,  
May earth lie 17 heavy on her Impious head.   Exeunt.  
FINIS.   



Comments upon the First Scene: Act the First.  
IF this Translation were only to fall into the hands of learned Readers, Comments were extremely unnecessary, but since we know not how the capacities of all are pallated, the Reader will be pleased to look upon these Illustrations as Torches, which if they knew the way, are useless, if not may light their understanding.  
1. Parnes is a Mountain in Attica the dominion of Athens.  
2 Zephyr is the West-wind ennobled with sundry epithets, and particularly in its derivative of {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}, as causing Germination and pulbulation, he is called Decoy, because of the gentle showers he ushers.  
3. Illissus is a River in Attica, which in its seasons( as all the rest is to be understood) is subject to congelations, so much the more observable, because Greece is less obnoxious to those inclemencies of cold then these Regions.  
4. We should hardly avoid an Indecorum, if we did not reconcile the author in this Meander, which though it be an Asiatic River, yet credulous antiquity supposed, that after it had mingled with the Sea became emergent again in Pel●ponesus.  
5. Marathan is a city in Attica, which owes the glory of its memory to a memorable defeat given to the Persian by the A●henian.  
6. Acarnania is the Southern part of Attica, which by the benefit of its situation, is more warm than the other parts of that Dominion.  
7. Hymettus is a place there of great reputation for ●ees.  
8. A Village there adjacent.  
9 Sunion is a Promontory, where the Sea being neat limitation, beats with extraordinary violence.  
10. The Latin Copies read it Philips, mistaken for Phibalis a place in Attica, here supposed to be the lodge of a Bore; designed for Hippolytus his hunting.  
11. Diana not unsitly termed Queen of the world's solitary part, whether as presiding over the woods, or governing the night according to those Verses,  

Terret Lustrat agit Pros●rpina Luna Diana  
Ima suprema feras sceptro fulgore sagitta.   
12. Araxes is an Armenian River arising from the same mountain which gives source to Euphrates. To which the Author adds, Ister subject to Glaciation a River in Germany, that by their remotion, the universality of Diana's power may be more conspicuous, which is his design in the following Verses.   

Upon the Second seen.  
CRete, aptly invocated by Phaedra as being her country, may justly be termed sovereign of those Seas, being seated in the middle thereof, being washed with the Aegean on the North, the Afric● 〈◊〉 ●bian on the South, 279. miles in length, and 50. in breadth, having 〈◊〉 ancient greatness a hundred Cities, nor is it an 〈◊〉 epithet in the Greeks to call it {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}.  
To understand this 〈◊〉 ascend to the History of Theseus, Minos, and Phaedra, for the death of his Son Androgeus, made an eager war upon the Atbenians, who being compelled to submission, were tied to this Article of sending seven youngmen every year to Crete to be given to the Minotaur,( a Monster begotten by a Bull upon Pasiphae;) the story is too obscene for publication) Theseus decision of fortune had in the third year selected Theseus for this sacrifice, who by the assistance of Ariadne daughter to Minos killed this monster, and evaded the Labyrinth. Ariadne and her Sister( our) Phaedra were both taken by him, where after having ingratefully deserted Ariadne; this Phaedra the remaining sister was brought to Athens, a country, enemy to Minos, and married to him  
3. This is by an irony, noting Theseus as signal for inconstancy, Helen, Hippolita, Melibae, Ariadne, all beloved by him, and forsaken after or destroyed.  
4. By this audacious Champion is intended Pirotheus who after the death of his Wife Hippodame had with Theseus made a Vow never to marry any, but a Daughter of Jupiter; None of those Daughters being to be found above; he, a true audacious Champion, descends to Hell, associated with Theseus, designing a Rape upon Proserpina, at the first assault Cerberus killed him, and Theseus endeavouring to afford him assistance, or revenge, was taken alive, there kept in chains by Pluto, and after rescued by Hercules. Others are of opinion that the descent into Hell, was rather to restore Proscrpine to her afflicted Mother.  
5. Aetna a Mountain vomiting flames in S●icily.  
6. A solemn form of adoration to wave their Torches at Sacrisices, or other addresses, to their pretended Divinity.  
7. In the building of Athens, antiquity was credulous to believe of a contention between Neptune and Minerva, concerning the Protection and Nomination of this new City, which was to be determined to be dedicated to that God who should produce, the most profitable benefit to mankind; Neptune produced a Horse, because of his use in labouring of the ground and portage, but Minerva concluding peace and plenty to be the most commodious, caused the Olive to spring up, with giving her the victory, she named the city( after her own name of 〈◊〉,) Athens.  
8 Pasiphae, the Mother to Phaedra, wife to Minos, whom they report to be enamoured of a Bull, and by Dedalus his Art including her in a wooden Cow fed those wild flames with actual enjoyment of her Beastly wooer, from this unnatural mixture, proceeded the Minotaur.  
9 The Sun by discovery, of the embraces betwixt Mars and Venus, to Vulcan her husband, contracted the hare of this Goddess towards his issue, and Pasiphae being his daughter is believed to be struck with th●se unwarrantable flames by her revengeful design and appointment.  
10. Daughter to 〈◊〉 the son of ●upiter.  
11. Theseus at that time was inchaind by Pluto.  
12. Minos who by opportunity of the scituation of his Kingdom, and benefit of a Navi●, ruled all those ●cas. In this she repeats all the ancestors of Phaedra, as the Sun her grandfather by the Mother, Jupiter by 〈◊〉, at once presenting her with the fear of Revenge by ampliation of their Power.  
13. These Verses are ironic as upbraiding Phaedra with that Monstrous love of her Mother, and the monster her Brother the Minotaur;  
14. Antiope and Hippolita though different names are to be understood one Person, the Mother of Hippolytus a brave Amazon Princess, who in a com●a: with Theseus submitted to his more vigorous valour and was married to him, but after in some amatory Expostulations taxing her Husband, he in his passion killed her.  
15. Phaedra palliates her impious crimes with the repetition of her mother's lust, as if irresistibly derived to her from Pasiphae.  
16. Both Theseus and Pyryt●on, being both adulterers, may more excellently give Indulgence to that crime in which they are equally guilty.  
17. The sense is, Will Minos, who not so much as followed to revenge the Impiety and treason of Ariadve then running away with Theseus, be more severe in a Remoter cause?  
18. Theseus then supposed dead.  
19 Pallas Tower the citadel of Athens, which was divided into the three Parts, the Aeropolis or citadel, the City, and the Pyraeum.   

Upon the Chorus of the first Act.  
1 VEnerem ex spumâ maris & Caeli t●sticulis à Saturno excisis natam fabulantur. This Goddess said to be born of the flood, either because of the Fluctuations and Perturbations which follow those Passions, attending the sight of Beauty, or because moisture gives all things radication so from propagation( the act which this gods presides over) the species of things receive their rise and continuation.  
2. This not to be understood of Eros and Anteros, but of a legitime and warrantable affection, and prohibited for impious desire, the warrantable Cupid, Cicero in his De natura deorum, will have to be the son of Venus and Jupiter, the Impious of night, and Er●bus, something against the sense of the Poet, who would have them both born of Venus.  
3. Apollo for the murder of Cyclops, being by Jupiter divested of divinity, submitted himself to be Admetus( Than King of Thessaly) his Shepherd; but our Poet seems to have it be, only in design to enjoy that King's Daughter.  
4. Jupiter in several shapes accomplished his lusts, to possess himself of Leda, he became a Swan; to enjoy Europa, a Bull.  
5. In the division of dominions betwixt the three Brothers, Heaven and Earth fell to Jupiter's assignation, the Sea to Neptune and Hell to Pluto.  
6. Endymion for his exact Observation of the renovations and decrescencies of the Moon was reputed by the fabulous & easy, faithed antiquity to have been admitted to her embraces, and by her hid amongst the Latmian rocks in Caria, that she might undiscovered enjoy him; in the mean while her Brother, the Sun; at her Instance took the government of the night upon him: that Moony chariot being feigned to have been driven with two Steeds, because of the less rapid motion of her course; compared to her Brother, to whom therefore they ascribed four.  
7. Hercules' is reported out of complacency to Omphale the Lydian Princess of whom he was passionately enamoured to have laid aside his club, and the hide of the Nemaean Lion, and clothe himself in female habit, and forgetting the memory of all his former generous undertaking, to apply himself to the Distasse, and other womanly exercises.  
8. The Nereids are supposed the daughters of Nereus and Doris, being all Sea-nymphs, and called by the Names of Nesea Cymothoe, and others, the names are at large in Hesiods Theogenia.    

Act the second,  

Scene the first.  
1. HIppolita from Scythia the seat of the Amazons invaded Attica, with her Viragoes, where being overcome in arms by Theseus, she captived her conqueror by her beauty.  
2. It was an opinion of the Ancients, that the Moon were obnoxious to the Charms of Witches, amongst none was more infamously famous than those of Thessaly.  
3. This Verse hath a new reflection of the Moons descending to Endymion a Carian Shepherd, and by the deprecation of such another descent, the Poet insinuates a diminution of her reputation by it.   

Scene the second.  
1. The custom of the Ancients in their sacrifices, was to crumble upon the sacrifice Altar and knives, a cake of barley and salt, which being called in Latin Mola gave rise to the word Immolare.  
2. The stones which bounded possessions were called sacred, either because it was amongst the Ancients esteemed sacrilegious to remove them, or because that upon them yearly, the Lords of those bounded possessions, used to sacrifice upon those stones to Jupiter Terminalis, or the God Terminus.  
3. Medea is an apt example to obtrude an infamy upon her sex, for she betrayed her father Aeta, tore in pecc●s her brother Absyrtus, juggled the daughters of Pelias into Parricide upon their own parent, destroyed Crcon and his daughter Creusa, by caustic poisons, to testify her revenging hatred 〈◊〉 husband Jason, killed her two sons Mormorus before the eyes of the deprecating father: And lastly, which Hippolitus seem● to 〈◊〉 upon, being married to Aegeus( the graddfa●r to this young man, to prefer her own son) laid plots for the 〈◊〉 o●Theseus.  
4. The Syrtes are two dangerous bays in the Lybian Seas, full of flats; shoals, and quick sands.  
5. Meaning the Amazons who by expulsion of their Husbands testify their hate to Males, yet could this Love which she▪ persuades him to submit unto, prevail upon his Mother notwithstanding the disadvantages of being an Amazon and a Scythian.   

Scene the third.  
1. Theseus had committed the Regency of Attica to her during his absence.  
2. This speech of Phaedra's appears dronick, from the improbability that Pluto should dismiss One, who had a design of rape upon his wife, and might, if returned, disclose those not to be made public secrets of his dark Province; yet reflecting upon the power of Love, she concludes, that that may bow even Pluto himself into Compassion.  
3. Of the Minotaur already we have spoken.  
4. Ariadne ingratefully deserted by Theseus, was after entertained by Bacchus; who in consideration of her Love to him, translated her into a Constellation, whom Phaedra invokes from the similitude of their affections, she having doted on the father Theseus, as Phaedra on the son Hippolytus.  
5. Diana which Hippolytus ado●'d, or Phoebus' Grandfather to Phaedra.   

Chorus of the second Act.  
1. Chorus.  
2. Hesperus ascending the Brow of Atlas, that from that height he might more conspicuously contemplate the course of the Stars, by some accident, of either of chance, or malice, did there concealedly depart this life, which gave occasion to conjecture, that he was translated into that illustrious Star, which in the Evening we call Hesperus, in the Morn Lucifer, or Phosphorus.  
3. Of Bacchus, his triumph over India, his attributes of everyoung naked, crowned with Ivy Horns, unshorn, and the rest; see Natalis Comes Mytholog. lib. 5. cap. 13.  
4. Ariaduc was at first enjoyed by Theseus, afterward by Barchus, which the Poet is pleased to ascribe Bacchenalion, as finding a greater, and more attracting excellency in Hippolytus father, then Liber Pater.  
5. The Naides, so called, {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}, were nymphs which the Ancients ascribed to Fountains, their imprisoning of beauteous young men in their streams, is taken from the Disstaters of drowned Hylas and Narcissus.  
6. The Arcadians, being Greclans of a more untracted antiquity then the rest, boasted their beginnings to be before the Sun and Moon.  
7. How the dryads, or Sylvan Nymphs may be joined with Pan, as being solacious, I know not; since Plutarch relates, that Drias, the daughter of Faunus, had such a particular abhorrence at the sight of men, that to avoid it, she declined all society, and at her Sacrifices, Males were prohibited to appear, unless this is spoken generally, and that story received as a particular exception.  
8. The Ancients imagining the Moon subject to Incantations, used by beating of brass basins, sounding of Trumpets, and all other clamorous means, to assist and recover,( as they thought) the Moon, labouring under an Eclipse.  
9 Paros is an island amongst the Cyclades, ennobled for her excellent Marble.    

Act the third.  

Scene the first.  
1. TRiptolemus was an Attic Prince, who( preinstructed by Ceres) taught the Athenians Agriculture.  
2. The Sun entering into the equinoctial sign of Lihra, makes a just equality betwixt the day and night.  
3. Cerberus' is understood to be this Dog, a deformed Monster with three heads, and supposed by the Ancients, to be the Porter of Hell. Which Hercules in pursuance of Euristheus, his commands, brought away from Hell bound; at the same time he ●eemed this our Theseus.   

Scene the second.  
1. Grecce being subject to Piracies and Invasions, in its more fertile part, the Territory of Athens being unfruitful, was not so obnoxious to displanters; hence the Athenians boasted themselves to be aboriginall to that Country, and wore as an Emblem of it, golden grasshoppers upon their Brome's.   

Scene the third.  
1. See the Chorus of the first Act, number 5.  
2. Phasis the greatest River of the Colchi, so much the more subject to an epithet of barbarism, because it washeh the Country whence Medea had original.  
3. Aegeus the father of Theseus, had commanded him, if he returned successful from the Minotaur, that the black sails of the returning Ship should be removed and white advanced. This Theseus forgetting; the mistaking father judging the event, suitable to the colour, precipitated himself from a Rock into the Sea, called from him Aegean. The Athenians, out of Gratitude to the father, and flattery to the son, reputed him translated into the God of the Sea.  
4. Theseus had already enjoyed the benefit of two desires( the option of three being granted to him) the first was to be victorious over some barbarous thieves then troubling Attica, the second, to evade the Labyrinth, and this third, that some Monster might destroy Hippolytus.  
5. Styx an Arcadian River of a venomously cold quality, was by the Ancients supposed for a River in Hell, ofsuch a horrid reverence with the Gods, that whoever assumed the name of that to assure a vow, durst not infringe it. He who violated the sanctity of this Oath, was to be devested of all divinity, and deprived of Nectar for one hundred years.   

Chorus of the third Act.  
1. For notwithstanding the opinion of Mathematicians, the Poles do move with the universe.  
2. The Sun in Leo causes more than usual colours.    

Act the fourth.  

Scene the first.  
1. Corus' is a Wind usual to the Sicilian Seas, which drives the Waves upon the Italian coasts.  
2. Leucate is a Promontory in Acarnania.  
3. The Ciclades are lands in the Aegenian Sea.  
4. This prodigious flood arising, interposed betwixt us and the sight of Aesculapius his Temple, and those memorable Rocks called Sciro●ian, from Sciron an infamous Robber, who there died, there by the hand of Theseus.  
5. In allusion to Theseus, who destroyed the Minotaur of a mixed shape, half man, and the rest like a Bull.  
6. The history of Phaeton is common. Phaeton, that the Sun would by some act of indulgence, own him to be his issue, begs of Phoebus the guiding of his Chariot for one day, which being granted, he by his ignorance put all things in such a fear of conflagration, that Jupiter to ebriate the disorder, struck him out of the Chariot with a thunderbolt.   

Chorus of the fourth Act.  
1. Caucasus is a ledge of extreme high Mountains in Asia dividing Scythia from India.  
2. Ida is a Mountain of Phrigia.  
3. At the invasion of the Giants.  
4. Pluto was Uncle to Pallas, as brother to her father Jupiter, 〈◊〉 if he lost an inhabitant of Theseus, recovered another by Hippolytus.    

Act the fifth.  

Scene the first.  
1. SEe the third Scene, Act the third, numb. 3.  
2. By his indiscrete credulity in believing Phaedra and his rash passion, in killing Antrope.  
3. Scinis was an infamous thief, which tied passengers to trees forcibly bended together, which afterwards permitted to return to their natural course, tore in Pieces all such as were held to them.  
4. Procrustes of the same condition with Scinis, only varying something in cruelty; passengers, under colour of entertainment, were brought to a bed, which if they were too long, for by amputation of the extending part, they were equal, if too short, they with racks were stretched out even with it.  
5. The Minotaur of Crete, formerly spoken of.  
6. Dedalus made that Labyrinth.  
7. It was a custom amongst the Ancients, at the interment of their friends, by way of testification of their sorrow, and in honour of the deceased to cover their faces, and cut off their hair, as if they took no delight in any ornament of Nature after the decease of those persons, in whom they placed their supreme contentment.  
8. Acheron( in English joyless) is a River imagined to receive, first the souls of the deceased, because at the Moment of death, a certain fatal sadness seizeth so on the Spirits, that an easy divination may be made of death approaching, for then the memory and conscience of past actions( the River which we must first pass over) puts our immortal part into an apprehension of sinking under the burden.  
9 Averna is a Lake in Campania, near the Bajae, which because of the male-odoration of the air antiquity, supposed to be the first descent into Hell.  
10. It seems those superstitious ages ascribed several descents into Hell, for Tonarus is here taken for it, at the straits whereof, Hercules descended thither, from whence he redeemed Theseus, and captivated Cerberus.  
11. Lethe is another of those fabulously designed Rivers of which, whatever ghost tasted, an immediate forgetfuluess of all things past was its attendant; though in truth, Lethe is a River about the utmost extent of the Sirtes, which submerged and latent, for some miles breaks out again near the City Berenice, from hence the wide-throated faith of the Ancient swallowed an opinion that it had his emergency from Hell.  
12. Proteus' a Sea God the son of Oceanus and Tethis, is said to feed Neptune's Sea-monsters, to be extreme skilful in divinations, and to transform himself into any shape.  
13. Theseus imagining all places here, accuseth himself that in all places are full testiment of his guilt, in the shy Ariadne's constellation, witnesses his ingratitude in her treacherous desertion; Hell endures his accompanying Pyritheus thither, to assist his adultery upon Proserpina. The Sea accuseth him by his careless obedience to have sent his father precipitated thither.  
14. Sisyphus for his numerous depredations upon Attica, was kill●d by Theseus. The Punishment afflicted upon him in Hell is supposed to be an injuctive task to roll a great stone up to the top of a high Mountain, to which, when a●ved, by its relaxency to the bottom, it makes his labour still beginning, but never accomplished.  
15. Titius endeavouring to ravish Latona, Apollo's mother, was by Jupiter struck dead with Thunder, others say, killed by Apollo, his sufferings are said to be by a vulture gnawing perpetually on his Liver, which undiminishably continues.  
16. Ixion the father of Pyritheus taken up by Jupiter into Heaven entertained lustful thoughts towards Juno, of which Jupiter informed, framed a Cloud in the effigies of Juno, upon which the deceived adulterer begot the centaur, being returned to earth, he vaingloriously boasted of his embraces with the Queen of heaven▪ Jupiter to punish his violence, sunk him into h●l with a thunderbolt, where he is tied to a wheel and tormented with perpetual circumrotation.  
17. Those dead, of whom the Ancients had any cause to detest the memory, were usually followed with an imprecation that the earth might lie heavy on them, out of a strange conceit that the soul( which they believed to be inhumed with the body) could slowly, if at all, remove to the seat of the happy, by reason of 〈◊〉 depressure with such a weight.     

DIVERSE SELECT POEMS.  By the same Author. 

On an old ill-favoured Woman, become a young Lover.  

LOve me! Heaven bless me. Hadst thou told me all  
The common miseries, which can befall  
A man, to make him wretched; I had met  
Them, and embraced them with a youthful heat,  
Rather than heard thee talk of Love; this news  
Is worse than all the plagues the Gods can us,  
To punish black offenders with; to thee  
Want and continual sickness, blessings be.  
Sure thou dost now like beggars, who to crave  
Take a delight, though they may nothing have:  
For I can ne'er believe, thou canst acquaint  
Thy hopes, with expectation of a grant.  
Be thine own Judge, or call thy partial glass  
To witness; canst thou find in all that mass  
Of monstrous ugliness, one piece that can  
Render thee fit for the most sinful man,  
If all the rest were answerable? no,  
Thou Mayest securely boast that none can show  
So full a harmony, no part of thine  
Can at his fellows richer form repine,  
Nor can they for supremacy contest,  
When every part is worst, and none is best.   

Some, when Pandora's box was oped doubt,  
That thou wert all those plagus which thronged out.  
And most agree, as every generous God  
A several ornament on her bestowed,  
The sportive Deities have given to thee  
Each a particular deformity;  
Jove gave thee an imperious mind; his Queen  
Made thee a scold, and gave thee tongue and spleen:  
Sol tanned thy skin. Iris did paint thy face:  
Hermes taught theft: Saturn gave length of days,  
God Momus gave thee a repining soul:  
Phoebe to keep thee chaste, hath made thee foul;  
Yet( it seems) Venus whom thou dost adore,  
Enraged at that hath made thy will a whore;  
And Mulciber, who would not be behind  
His courteous wife, gave thee a halting mind.   

But by what chance into the world thou fell  
None can conceive under a miracle.  
Thy Mother( hadst thou had one) at thy birth  
Had frantic run as soon as brought thee forth:  
The trembling Mid wife from her shaking hands  
Had let thee fall, killed in thy swathing bands.  
The timely zeal else of the standers by  
Had rid the world of such a Prodigy;  
Or hadst thou, by their fear from present death  
A while preserved, drawn a contemned breath,  
None would have fathered thee, nor hadst thou been  
Esteemed the lawless progeny of sin,  
And of the people. Spurned from each ones blood  
Thou so hadst perished for want of food.   

But thou'rt no human seed, thy shapeless age  
Allows thee not of mortal Parentage.  
Yet 'twould almost persuade me to believe  
That( if thou be a woman) thou art Eve:  
Only I think man might have stood till now,  
If Eve had been no handsomer than thou;  
For 'tis not time or age could change thee thus;  
Thou wert by Nature made so leprous.  
I rather think Jove did himself transform  
To woe the Earth, and got thee in a storm;  
Or else some grave▪ fruitful with dead men's bones,  
Hath teemed the offspring of her Skeletons.  
Thou art of such a dirty moled; a thing,  
Already so like earth, the grave can bring,  
No change to thy complexion. I dare swear,  
The worms would scorn to touch thee wert thou there.  
Thou'rt a mere Chaos, which I am content  
To grant that nature for a Woman meant;  
But either she forgot, or else her store  
Enriching other Beauties, made thee poor,  
And of necessity she left thee thus;  
Some parts defective, some superfluous,  
And others so misplaced, Poets would swear,  
Jove got thee on Calisto when a bear;  
And that the suddenness of her translation,  
Gave her no time to lick thee into fashion;  
And I am half persuaded, thou dodst hope,  
Some wealthy dowry from the skies should drop:  
For if thou wilt be married, thou hast need,  
To have a heavenly Marriage-good indeed;  
No temporal blessings ever were of force,  
To countervail so horrible a curse.  
What madman dost thou think would give consent  
To cast himself away for thy content.  
Why this is worse. So would one death suffice;  
Thus, never dead, continually he dies.  
For when thou opes thy sore, and dost relate,  
Like a cursed shrew the rigour of thy fate,  
Telling what slames are in thy bosom bred,  
A fever entertains him in his bed:  
If thy wan looks for pity seem to call,  
Into a deep consumption he doth fall;  
And when thy labouring eyes bring forth a flood  
Of gore, for tears, he gets the flix of blood:  
When thy rude cough doth shake each aged limb,  
An Ague, or the palsy shaketh him.  
Then if from thy pale Lips he drink a kiss,  
Without an Antidote he poisoned is;  
But if he do the Act, he doth mistrust,  
He's dambed for dealing with a Succubus;  
Besides 'tis odds that he the ●— doth get,  
Although thou have them not with mere conceit;  
And for the Plague, there's none will doubt, but he  
In a full measure hath it, who hath thee.  
Now if thou knowest any man, who pleases  
To marry such a portion of diseases,  
Take him, for I'll be sworn, if e'er I do it  
The certainty of heaven must woe me to it.  
What should I do with thee; unless that I  
Durst show thee somewhere to get money by?  
And then I do believe, thy tongue might come  
To save me the expenses of a drum;  
But when they had so foul a Monster viewed,  
Who must appease the frighted multitude?  
What must I do, when every clown shall swear,  
I raise the Div'l, and am a Conjurer?  
When by my sufferings cheated, I shall need  
Persuade myself, that it is so indeed:  
Confess the accusation true, and tell  
The Judge, thou art not only the deu'l, but Hell  
Durst they look on, in truth 'twere pretty sport  
To see thy cheeks enamelled with dirt,  
And yellow, when thy hollow eyes in red.  
And white, are gorgeously apparelled;  
Never Envy Tisiphone; thy hair  
May with the Gorgon's snaggy locks compare,  
And can( for aught I know) change men to stone▪  
I ne'er durst look what colour it was on:  
Thy long and beaked nose, offended with  
The neighbourhood of such a tainted breath,  
Doth drop into thy mouth; belike a rheum  
So salt might season it, though not perfume:  
Thy teeth( too weak a guard) for to oppose  
The constant motion of thy tongue( God knows)  
All in griefs liu'ry black, as if they mourned  
For their departed fellows, are adorned.  
Then thy hulch bacl, splay foot, and beetle brows  
I pass, almost afraid to think of those;  
Nor dare I speak thy name, no more than once  
The Jews durst do their Tetragrammatons.   

All generally is nought, for though there be  
Some few things, which are simply good in thee;  
Yet those blind pearls, those bloodshot rubies in  
Thine eyes, that golden Ore upon thy skin;  
Thy sable teeth made of unpolished jet,  
Are all like jewels in a Dunghill set:  
And I to pity thee shall be inclined,  
Give me these gems, the dunghill left behind.    

An Ale-match.  

NOw are they set; by this time is the round  
Begun, and their ambitious cups are crowned;  
The health is named the Kings, for the like good  
Subjects thought that would breed the purest blood:  
'Twas a shrewd argument they should be maimed,  
When the first blow thus at the head was aimed.  
Nothing too much for's Majesty they thought;  
Nor could their loves be limned in a small draught,  
They were resolved to burn the stream of Fate,  
And with whole pots, cement his broken state.  
A deluge the old sinful world did cleanse,  
And they( by like) tried that authentic means.  
But with a different success, for then  
Th' offended Gods destroyed both beasts and men.  
When this preposterous flood of theirs oppressed  
Only the man, and multiplied the beast.   

Thus having reared the Standard of the King  
They shortly after fell to mustering.  
And first unto this desperate service press▪  
Like careful soldiers, their own Mistresses.  
I do believe they had a plot, to prove  
Whether worse drunkards made Bacchus or Love.  
But now they found, consulting on the case,  
Women were nothing if without their glass.  
So is their copy changed, and they took  
A harder volume, but a lesser book.  
I know not what temptation might be in'nt,  
But sure they spoilt their eyes with the small print.  
Often they read it, nor a time could find  
To leave, till seeing double made them blind  
'Twas wonderful to see the virgin's Mothers:  
Their pregnant healths delivered of others.  
Fruition's the first born, they cannot scape  
But their unbridled fancies act a rape.  
Sure they were bashful, or the Ladies coy,  
That only in their drink they could enjoy.   

Now their conceits are swelled, and they will give  
No credit unto Poets, but believe  
Jove courted the Acrysian maid of old,  
In showers of Nectar, rather than of Gold.  
They're bold to think Daphne had never shrunk  
The Love-sick God had he been half so drunk  
With any generous liquor, as with pride,  
He was before, or Love when her he spied.  
Had lacked a tree till now; the Virgin had  
The guerdion not of wit, but drink been made.  
The next is to love me, but in that case,  
Who could, beyond my understanding was  
Nor was I much inquisitive, I know  
What they did drink, no matter then to who.  
Besides, 'twas plain, who could affect such strange  
Creatures as they, were then must needs love change  
Well they go round in riddles, every pot  
Was woven now into a Gordian knot,  
Which they like the great conqueror divide,  
And never look how they should be untied.  
Nor can they think but he was sharpened well,  
When this prompt sword fulfilled the Oracle,  
And so, after his Asian conquests, showed  
In being drunk a piece of gratitude.  
By this time the aspiring juice doth fume  
Into their brains, and they condemn the room,  
With those internal vapours almost choked  
They ask the reason why the chamber smoked.  
The helpless windows, and the door in vain  
By turns are shut, and opened again.  
The remedy was nearer, had each one  
Closed but his mouth a while it had been gone.  
But they would lose no time, and now you'd think  
Their flaming eyes had sucked those seas of drink;  
For big with light, they seemed so many Suns  
Their faint light dimmed with exhalations.  
Now are they scattered, every one now chooses  
Another station which he straight refuses,  
And so the third; their restless bodies walking,  
Like the Egyptians in the darkness stalking.  
Yet as a Lover from his Mistress forced  
( By order of the dance a while divorced)  
Moves slowly, and his speaking eye forbears  
To guide his feet, and kindly follows hers;  
But then again with winged speed doth take  
That hand he was constrained to forsake.  
So they divided by the envious fume,  
Do sadly wander up and down the room  
But summoned by some friendly name, fly hither  
And jointly celebrate the health together;  
At last these grosser vapours are dispersed  
And quit those parts they troubled at the first;  
Yet the more subile spirits still remain  
Working insensibly upon the brain.  
Encouraged thus they reinforce the fight,  
And the room cleared, they clear the table straight;  
And for the suddainer dispatch, they by  
A quaint device, increase the company;  
Three multiply to six, while every one  
Is by two adversaries set upon:  
Now this, and now the other they assault  
Like skilful Beagles, never at a fault;  
But still who endeth doth again begin,  
Their cups dancing a perfect Mattachin.  
They bar all tedious Lectures; 'tis decreed  
That there they only fluent styles should read,  
And without pausing if a piece of cake  
Did not by chance a breathing Comma make,  
While 'twas a chewing; for Tobacco is  
No point of drink, but a Parenthesis.  
But now at length they to a full one come,  
Each man resolving on a voyage home.  
They pay their reckoning, yet it seems they stayed  
( As by the sequel proved) till they were paid.  
Still there remained for every man a pot,  
Which they like Foulers ram down after th'shot.  
Now these mingled with half a pint of sack  
A pretty piece of Conjuration make;  
'tis all divided into three times three,  
And each glass loaden with a family,  
Which having swallowed once, you might have seen 'em  
Quite altered; their homes were now within 'em  
They talk no more of parting now, but call  
For a fresh bale of pots, and roundly fall  
To their old game, I think 'twas In and In  
For they could find no passage out again.  
The room was now a conjurer's Circle, and  
The pots and Pipes for mystic figures stand;  
To one another they Magicians were,  
And their discourses charms to keep them there.  
Marry their Host must be the devil, for he  
Was truly glad of their impity,  
And most officious in his malice lends 'em  
A boy-like Mephistopheles to attend 'em  
Whom they keep in perpetual motion, still  
Employed either to empty, or to fill.  
For now they'd brought their bodies to that pass  
That they like Mountebanks with every glass  
Run themselves through: they looked like unbreeched guns  
A scouring, whence the tainted water runs  
In the same quantity, and doth not wast  
A jot, tho changed in colour, and in taste;  
Cut into human figures, I have seen  
Some water-works have very like them been:  
So were the Belials tubs, nor they in Hell  
Ere met with vessels more insatiable;  
And sure the Poets meant that they were tied  
To give a drunkard drink, till he denied.  
I could not choose but smile at the old Fable  
How Hercules did cleanse Augeas Stable;  
Me thought with that, and them, as the case stood  
There was a kind of a similitude.  
You've have heard of the famed river that pursues  
With eager streams the flying Arethuse,  
And grown impatient of the sad divorce  
Doth under Earth and Seas a passage force  
Till she at length is caught, and the fight done,  
Their friendly waters in one channel run;  
Take any two of them, and the whole chase  
Most excellencly represented was.  
Of Xerxes' army, Histories relate  
How they drank up whole Rivers at a bait,  
An easy matter for all them to do;  
But who by drinking e'er created new?  
Had but the fire in Tower-street happened there,  
And they been piecemeal blown into the air,  
They had gone nigh to quench it; for an hour  
At least, their drink would have maintained a show●▪  
Mine Host hearing them call for it so fast  
Came up in a great fear himself at last,  
And seeing all was well, again retired;  
For he believed the chamber had been fired.   

By this time they had made more Ale away  
Than would have served Faustus to's load of hay:  
'Twould have struck all the gifted Brethren dumb  
And taught the Bishops how to silence 'em.  
Yet still their feau'rish appetites increase  
The more they drink, they're satisfied the less.  
I'●e undertake, had but the Fens been such,  
They would have drained them better than the Dutch.  
Ten more of their own humour, and in one  
Half year the Navy would be useless grown;  
The King( God bless him) could no shipping lack,  
The narrow Seas they fordable would make;  
And think it nothing too. They three had Seas  
Within them, far more dangerous than these:  
So rough, the Pilot, Reason could nor steer,  
But he himself did suffer shipwreck there:  
They'd made a perfect microcosm of man;  
Their bladders were the Midland Ocean;  
Their bellies the Aegaean Sea, the whiles  
Their floating entrails seem the thick-set Isles:  
Their troubled breasts the Adriatic, and  
Their mote hearts like Sea-girt Venice stand.  
Or if you will ascend more high, their brain  
Swims like the frozen Sea dissoled again:  
And their benighted understandings look  
Like Green Land men by winter overtook.  
Yet some who saw them thus diguised, say,  
They were all a mere Terr' incognita;  
Nor without cause; well might they be unknown  
To them, who to themselves were strangers grown.  
Had they been cat●chized than 'tis thought  
That the first question would have put them out;  
For any thing they of their own Names knew  
The Minister might have baptised them new.  
They talked like men asleep, of this and that,  
And whilst a speaking oft, forgot of what:  
The rest bound up in frost you would have thought,  
And the next thaw come to have heard it out.  
It would have run a good grammarian mad,  
To tell how many parts of speech they had,  
The Noise at Babel was each whit as good,  
And I believe, far better understood.  
For they had a confusion too, and worse  
Than that of tongues, of th' Intellective Powers.  
In language they were English all, but than  
In understandings all Ebrician.  
What is't a clock? says one, another cries,  
You're in the right; with all my heart replies  
The third; all answ'ring so far from the matter  
That mortar brought instead of brick was batter.  
Yet all this while, they drink, and sometimes take,  
A whole pot merely, for variety sake.  
A whole pot merely for vari'ty sake.  
The Boy calls up his Master, and he swears  
That they are Papists all, and now at prayers;  
He thinks their great and lesser Cups are strung  
In order,' stead of Beads, upon their tongue:  
He fancies an Ave Mary in each glass,  
And every pot a Pater Noster was.  
But now both pots and glasses they forbore,  
Their treacherous heads( alas) would bear no more,  
But droop like Tulips overcharged with wet,  
The sleepy Poppy, or the Violet;  
Yet so much sense even now in them remains,  
They break the Weapons that had cracked their brains.  
Now they sit still, and not a word doth pass,  
Like the Disciples of Pythagoras.  
To do their Mother-tongue a piece of right  
Their tongues that cliped it now were silent quite.  
Mine Host aware of this dumb show doth bring  
Up in an Antimasque the reckoning,  
In which I do believe( were the truth known)  
He oft saw double and told two for one;  
But when he drew it, he did much mislike  
The fallacy of that arithmetic.  
Well, they discharge him, or to say more true  
He first discharged himself, and then them too;  
For all this while they sat like stocks; the Room,  
Itself a quicker motion did assume:  
For that ran like the Heavens Circular,  
And them we might to the fixed Stars compare  
When they sat still, or reeling too and fro  
Their doubtful legs like the Errata go;  
And stand for hieroglyphics of the sun's  
Strange course, that goes so many ways at once.  
But now I at a ne plus ultra am,  
Nor know I how they to their lodgings came;  
For when they thought of going, than their feet,  
To speak the truth, had clean forgotten it.    

On a Talkative, and Stammering Fellow.  

THou thine own Pillory, who for thy ears  
Dost crop thy tongue, and talk'st in Characters;  
Who words epitomizest, and canst tell  
How to divide a Monosyllable;  
Thou that dost quavers speak, and such as are  
But evil Language, and worse music far,  
So that thy pleasant Auditors oft make  
Wagers, thou learnedst of an Owl to speak,  
Or else that Nature when thou wert but young;  
Tied a perpetual Ague to thy tongue.  
How Mountain like thou labourest to give birth  
Either to Nonsense, or bring nothing forth?  
In troth I can but pity thee that dost  
Endure such throws for thy tongues female lust;  
And wish thy mouth had been so Cannon bored,  
Thou shouldst not need a Midwife for each word  
Rather than undergo the grievous pains  
That wait on such a costive utterance,  
I would advise thee purge, and aptly vent  
It backwarks, Excrement with Excrement;  
Or with thy Pincers pluck thy teeth that do  
So ravenously bite thy words in two.  
I'd scorn to eat a Morsel with those base  
Grinders that hindered me from saying Grace;  
Would give a general defy to meat,  
Ere mine own words so like a Coward eat.  
Thou chew'st them so, they stick forth' most part 'twixt  
Thy teeth, and we must stay till them thou pick'st.  
When through that blind maze of signs and sound,  
Which so do the intelligence confound,  
They should conduct us to thy meaning, thou  
In th'middle of the labyrinth breakest the Clew.  
As 'tis, thy tongue is fit for nothing else  
But to pronounce the Devil's Oracles,  
And 'twould for that be excellent, all the skill  
Being to leave the meaning doubtful still,  
For which thy canting speech is made so fit,  
'Twould pose the devil himself t'interpret it.  
It sounds like the tongues Chaos, that same rude  
Matter that did all Languages include  
Ere words received form, when there was neither  
French, Dutch or English, but all heaped together.  
Nature in thee did overact her part,  
And so struck dumb her Adversary Art.  
Let others boast their Mother Tongue, but she  
Hath given the Mother of all tongues to thee.  
Thy speech is much like Bullion that's made fit  
For any stamp, but hath received none yet:  
Though't may to each particular relate,  
'Tis when thou speakest it neither this nor that;  
But being coined by thy hearers ears,  
To every country man his own appears,  
As if( not to do th' Holy Ghost that wrong)  
He with the cloven foot had cleft thy tongue.  
'Tis heathen language, neither circumcised  
After th' old Law, nor after th' new baptised;  
Hath neither mark whereby it may be known,  
Nor so much as denomination.  
'Tis thought thy Ancestors did fetch their rise  
From th'time that words were into Colonies  
Divided, and did band themselves together  
In several tongues as birds do of a feather;  
When men by their example did disperse  
Plantations through the whole universe,  
Then thy Forefathers did directly fall  
Under no one, but bordered upon all,  
Hence 'tis that one did thy discourse extol,  
And styled it, the universal soul  
Of Language, as being mingled with that art  
'Twas All in All, and All in every part.  
Hence 'tis thou talk'st such Linsey-Woolsy, and  
Dost in one word make roads into each Land,  
While every syllable in th' utterance fights  
For thus invading one another's Rights,  
And Nature to preserve the public quiet,  
Them with the Stocks doth punish for their riot.  
Thy tongue( and not unwittily perhaps)  
One likened to th' Almesbasket filled with scraps,  
It feeds our ears with mixed and broken words,  
Just like the poor with bits from several boards.  
Swi●ter than thought it runneth through each Clime,  
Visits all Nations in a point of time,  
And whence the greater miracle doth rise  
Although so great a trau'ler never lies.  
But since men's ears are not so given to roam,  
'Twere better that thy tongue too stayed at home:  
For as the palate can't distinguish 'twixt  
The several tastes of liquours that are mixed;  
No more our ears while thou retainest a spice  
Of every tongue can know thy various voice.  
A suit made up of patterns were both fit  
To emblemise thy speech, and clothe thy wit;  
'Tis like an over busy servant▪ who  
With too much hast his errand doth outgo;  
Bells jangled without order, or a Clock  
That strikes at random might be thought to mock  
Thee; methinks every word thou dost pronounce  
Sounds as seven devils spoke in thee at once.  
Had Noah's Ark upon some Rock been split,  
When all the Living were embarked in it,  
Those many strange, and disagreeing cries,  
Could not have made a more confused noise.  
I oft have walked th' Exchange, and must confess  
The Buzz of all that concourse was both less,  
And less perplexed, better than thee I could  
What every man said there have understood.  
What a learned Di'logue would betwixt you pass  
Hadst thou like Bala'm but a speaking ass?  
Thou hast so rugged and so wild a phrase  
'Tis like a Book stuffed witb Et caeteras,  
Which the Press up in cunning knots doth tie,  
And yet dissolved just nothing signify.  
Wert thou but musically given, by thee  
How rarely Barnaby would chanted be,  
When as the Drunkard might take all along,  
His reeling measures from thy staggering tongue?  
I wonder thou wilt give a beast the head  
So much, and know'st it such a stumbling jade.  
Alas consider that men use to stay  
And rest awhile, who travail a rough way.  
For mine own part, I'm willing to apply  
Myself to th' study of Cheirology,  
And talk with thee by signs, so thou'lt command  
Thy tongue give place to th' rhetoric of thy hand;  
But thou'rt( I doubt) too greedily inclined  
To quit so many trades it express thy mind;  
Besides 'tis natural to thy disease,  
Neither to let men speak nor hold their peace.  
And( a plague take thee) speech he little needs,  
Who is so plainly spoken by his deeds.    

upon Lucretia▪  

NOw the chaste Matron being left alone,  
Had leisure to consider what was done;  
And though the sinful act committed were  
Against her will, she could not choose but fear  
Th' uncertain voice of Fame, which doth but prize  
Suspected virtue as apparent vice.  
Then melting into tears, O Gods! saith she,  
Is this the best reward for Chastity?  
Or do you hate that virtue, that we must  
Be forced when we will not yield, to Lust?  
What balm, what comfort have you to assuage  
My furious sorrow? miserable age!  
When most do willingly this sin commit;  
And such as would cannot live free from it.  
Then did she wring her hands, and tear her hair,  
Sighing her body almost into air;  
So true a grief had been enough to make  
Her innocent, although she did partake  
Of Tarquin's guilt. But now at length she dries  
Those wealthy pearls from her o'rcharged eyes,  
And with a calmer look, these tears, saith she,  
Are booteless; Childish sorrow cannot free  
Me from men's censures: Something must be done  
To expiate his crime, lest thought mine own.  
There did she stay awhile, and with her eyes  
Cast down, as studying on her enterprise,  
By chance she did the tyrant's poniard find,  
Which he at his departure left behind.  
She took it up, and a sad smile did show  
Her joy for her approaching overthrow.  
Yet will I triumph over shame, and by  
My death( quoth she) confirm my Chastity;  
And thou polluted steel, which once didst force  
Me to the breach of wedlock, shalt divorce  
Me now for ever; then she said no more,  
But acting what she had resolved before,  
Drove the continue wound unto her heart,  
The noble Spirit hastened to depart;  
Perhaps it was afraid it might defile  
Itself by staying with that Flesh awhile.    

The Power of Love▪  

POets made the a God, and Love, if thou  
Be deified, make me a Poet now;  
Then will I sing thy praises, and rehearse  
Thy feared name th'rough the wide universe;  
Some faithful grove, where no close spy discovers  
The strict embraces of enjoying Lovers,  
Shall be thy Temple, hallowed by my prayers.  
The cheerful Birds shall be the Choristers,  
A Poet shall be Priest, and I will bring  
My wounded heart to be the offering;  
My body shall be th' Altar, and mine eyes  
Shall feed the flame that burns the Sacrifice.  
Then in thy powerful name I will all jars  
Compose, and once more free the Earth from wars.  
Beasts hunting after prey shall then grow tame,  
Arrested by the accents of thy name;  
The lion than shall kiss the Lamb, and keep  
Him harmless, while the Wolf defends the sheep;  
The Bear and Dog be friends; the crocodile  
Shall weep no more when as he would beguile;  
The Sirens tempting voice shall then have power  
Only to calm the waves, not to devour,  
And ravished with the tune the rising Seas  
Shall dance for joy, not gape for carcases.  
The Turtles shall leave off their courtship, and  
As listening to the music silent stand,  
But at the close of every melting strain,  
Approving what they hear, shall Bill again.  
The Virgin Phoenix shall believe a Mate  
A fit means than death to propagate;  
The Nightingale shall change her note, & mourn  
No longer for her Rape, but for her scorn;  
The Loving Pelican shall spend her blood  
More freely to preserve her Mate than Brood;  
The Salamander feel a hotter fire:  
The jennet shall not have the Wind his fire.  
Rivers to kiss th'embracing banks shall stay,  
Till forced by the upper streams away,  
And then with a sad murmur forward creep  
As loathe to intermingle with the deep.  
All Trees shall grow like palms, by two and two,  
And fade at once as they together grew;  
None shall be barren, all( thus matched) shall bear  
Some grateful issue to the kindly year.  
Still with fresh Verdure shall the Earth be clad,  
And yield increase for what she never had,  
Scorning by her spruce Lover to be found  
At any time with withered Chaplets crowned.  
Children, whose tender age as yet affords  
Them but the Liberty of half-cliped words,  
Shall learn the Dialect of Love, and break  
Their minds by acting what they cannot speak;  
While forty echoes( who have only tongue  
For that,) shall bear the burden of my song,  
And taking it from one another bear  
Thy praises through either hemisphere,  
Till the whole Earth with joinct consent approve  
All things are subject to the power of Love.    

The new Niobe.  

MErcy great Love, and hence I'll swear  
Myself a vassal to thy Shrine,  
And even when th' art raging here  
My verse shall speak that rage divine,  
Though my insufferable smart  
Persuades me thou a Fury art,  
So thou'lt but cast one other dart.   

Why should she still unmoved stand,  
And set at nought thy power and thee,  
Defying thy dead-doing hand;  
Her language than her soul more free?  
While thou her profanations hears,  
And, as if thou hadst ●ost thy ears  
As well as eyes, to strike forbears?   

What was my over-active crime?  
What Blasphemies have I e'er spoke,  
Which could to heaven so nimbly climb,  
And your quick Fury thence provoke?  
Perhaps I called thee boy, and blind;  
Scorned Love, doth not she bear that mind?  
Why then in punishment not joined?   

Are Women privileged alone  
Securely to do ill? or can  
One trespass be less monstrous grown  
In Woman than it is in Man?  
No, no, I see that thou hast sworn  
We both shall pay the price of scorn  
With different passions overborne.   

Yet am I used no worse by thee  
Than the great ruler of the day;  
I Love a Stone, and he a Tree;  
She by her prayers became a Bay,  
And mine like Niobe is grown  
By often weeping to a Ston,  
But changed by my tears not her own.   

Love, thou art just, and 'tis but fit  
She should into a Statue Freeze,  
Who in herself the hopes of it  
Destroys, as well as she ●at sees  
Her offspring, which she glories in  
Slain by her pride; but for that sin  
A Mother too she might have been.    

Gain in loss  

AWay, fond Boy away,  
What tempts thee for to stay  
Hou'ring about my breast?  
Thou canst not hope to sway  
Whereas disdains possessed  
With such an interest.   

And Honour'l not allow  
That thou shouldst lower bow,  
When daily Conquests post  
Afresh to Crown thy Brow,  
And every shaft almost  
A heart or two can boast.   

Yet if thou enterest here,  
By thine own power I swear,  
All glory thou must quit;  
No Bow nor Quiver bear,  
But unto Scorn submit  
Thyself an Anchorite.   

Thus spoke Almanna, and Cupid smiled  
To think how much she was beguiled,  
Then shot, but spite of all his art  
His blow the little Archer spoilt:  
Out flew the Golden-headed dart,  
But could not pierce her armed heart.   

Almanna laughed, and the God cried  
With fear of whipping terrfiied,  
And grieved for his broken Bow;  
No hope of comfort he espied,  
So that his tears, which seemed to flow,  
If not then blind had made him so.   

Another such he would have bought,  
But there was none, and if without  
He went, or this should broken bring  
Venus would know, that very thought  
Fresh floods from the poor boy did wring  
Lest she should whip him with the string.   

But th'Virgin not of Marble made  
All means to comfort him assayed,  
And oft his blubbered cheeks did dry.  
At last, with pity overswaied,  
She promised him that he should lie  
Amongst the babies of her eye.   

There he the beams of those bright Twins,  
With which all hearts, all eyes he wins,  
Hath both for Bow and arrows found,  
And nothing now to think begins,  
Since his own shafts did once rebound,  
But self-love can Almanna wound.    

The perfect Love.  

Why should I hold my peace & silent be  
when my life lies on the discovery?  
Besides I know, infallibly I know  
That thus a worse fate attends on me  
Than beasts, for I unto the Altar go  
And fall a sacrifice none knows to who.   

All other things with time and age receive  
That full perfection Nature could not give  
Them at the first, when only wretched I  
Am the sole prodigy, and downward thrive,  
Do grow into my grave, and( Tongue-tied) die  
A very'r child than in mine infancy.   

Before I could have spoken sure I could  
Have made a shrewd shift to be understood,  
When now I stand like one with lightning struck,  
And almost starved cannot make signs for food,  
Only my wants are writ in a sad look,  
Which for the rich is but too hard a book.   

At first I could have prattled, and have said  
What ever my affection dictated;  
Talked a far off of love, and Hymen, praised  
The Marriage, and condemned the single Bed:  
Extoled that Beauty she herself debased,  
And sworn the new-made heavens' not fairer faced.   

How oft I then have took, and gently strained  
A fragrant balm out of her melting hand,  
And cherished it in that strict fellowship  
With mine, her envious Glove could not withstand,  
But my expiring Soul hung on my lip  
Would that rich Nectar up in kisses sip!   

How have I then feasted my greedy eyes  
With the survey of that brave edifice;  
Examined the dimensions of my heart  
To know if it were able to comprise  
What I beheld; admired the state, and art,  
And lost myself with wonder in each part   

Then with a blush, or sigh I could have shown  
How much I wished the fabric were mine own;  
And she no question understood me too.  
But now what a strange Lover am I grown,  
Who can't so much as wish( 'tis strange, but true)  
Her tied to one so'unworthy of her view?   

O Miracle of Love! or let me be  
A lover of myself as well as she,  
Or let this bright and immaterial fire  
Consume this dross, which thus depresses me,  
And so render me worthy my desire;  
Or let me quickly in the flame expire.    

To a Lady working a Bed with cruel  

The murder.  

MAdam, why should you thus misspend an honre?  
Leave this uncharitable work,  
under the shadow of each new-made flower  
There will a speckled Serpent lurk,  
Which( though they hurt not you) will us devour,   

Alas how many too adventurous hearts  
Will perish by their hidden stings?  
One touch, one look, is worse than forty darts,  
And far more speedy ruin brings:  
A curse on them taught Beauty such black Arts.   

What may we think your serious exercise,  
If murder be your recreation?  
Sure on the universe you then devise  
To bring a total desolation,  
And fire the World with your consuming eyes.   

I say you might more noble pastimes find  
For to beguile the lazy time;  
You answer▪ Thrift on this had set your mind,  
Judging such sports indeed a crime;  
But sure such thrift's to narrow'r Souls confined.   

Ah! cruel Wanton! now your craft I spy,  
Your riddle now is understood,  
That you are covetous I'll not deny,  
But it is covetous of Blood,  
And you are saving that you may destroy.   

Now when this guilty piece shall reared be,  
The trophy of your martyred Slaves,  
It shall be styled by all that do it see,  
Since fruitful with so many graves,  
Not cruel Bed, but bed of Cruelty.    

The Revenge.  

THen let soft slumbers o'er your eyelids creep,  
When your disquiet fancy spies  
Men shipwrecked in those Seas they Bleed, and Weep;  
here's lulabyes composed of cries,  
And horror rocks your quaking limbs asleep.   

And sure as death If I be one that fall,  
( As much I doubt my froward Stars)  
Let the slain Lovers make me general  
I'll find a means to heal their scars,  
And you at last shall bear the smart of all.   

First such as of your sparkling eyes complain,  
Under their clouds of flesh I'll place  
To steal those beams wherewith themselves were slain  
And armed with those glorious rays,  
In the next fight they shall kill you again.   

Then those were hanged in your jacynth hair  
Shall rob you of a lock or two,  
Which, being twisted with a lover's tear,  
Shall make a chain to fetter you,  
Or string the Bow the God of Love doth bear.   

Next such as perished by a frown shall come  
Armed with the hand of time, with which  
I'll make them plough such furrows in the room  
May envy to your anger teach;  
And all your beauties find a grave at home.   

He that drinks poison in a kiss, and dies,  
I'll knead with your most Virgin breath,  
Till he to such a noble structure rise  
( Shake at the curse I now bequeathe)  
Wonder shall close your lips, till death your eyes.   

And since I am assured that no part  
Of yours will be assoiled of Blood,  
Thawed by a scalding sigh I will convert  
Your frost and snow into a flood,  
And drown your Beauty with what guards your heart.   

Then as th'asswaging waters left behind  
The Earth with slime and rubbish clad,  
And the surviving Couple did it find  
But by themselves inhabited,  
Till pregnant stones renewed lost mankind.   

So you this inundation overpast,  
Shall in no part appear the same,  
But all this world of Beauty be laid wast  
Till pitying Love renew the frame,  
And you your stony heart behind you cast.   

But these are weak revenges, fit for those  
Who could not stand a single charm;  
Those feeble spirits beaten without blows,  
And half-consumed ere I was warm,  
Yet never looked beyond your lip or nose.   

Then what shall I who have surveyed you round?  
Read over all this Book of Love;  
Yet still remained unconquered, till I found  
How every line a chain did prove,  
And every point thereof had made a wound?   

Why first I'll kiss you till my wounds be well,  
And, made of your inverted name,  
Bind to your bosom such a powerful spell  
As while I kiss shall you inflame,  
Till your unslaked desire burn hot as Hell.   

Nor shall your torments vanish when awake,  
Like to a fearful dream of fire;  
No( if I die) a brave revenge I'll take,  
And( it I must in flames expire)  
Will you a terrible example make.   

Glad Love shall clap his little wings▪ for joy,  
Fanning therewith the kindled pile,  
And, that yourself may help for to destroy  
Yourself, convert your tears to oil,  
And so raise the aspiring flame more high.   

Then your sick eyes shall languish after all,  
And at each varied object take  
New fuel, till what now we suns do call,  
Turn into blazing stars, or make  
Torches for your own beauty's funeral.   

Then your proud heart shall( into tinder burned)  
Take fire with every falling sparck,  
While your fair outside Ethiopian turned  
By your own heat, shall in the dark  
Be even by whoremasters & Drunkards scorned.   

Thus these gay testimonies of your Art,  
Which now so great a triumph have  
O'er those produced by nature, shall convert  
Their genial bed into your grave,  
And living death, for their dead life impart.   

Then leave this work of ruin, and employ  
The hours you dedicate thereto,  
In saving whom you have condemned to die;  
To save, more Honour were for you  
Than to create; much more than to destroy.     

To a Lady refusing to unveil.  

Why not unveil? by heaven you are  
Almost as scrupulous as fair,  
I'll tell you Madam by your leave  
These niceties do you but deceive,  
And while from us you would conceal  
Your Graces, from yourself you steal.  
It is ridiculous to say  
That pnblication takes away  
From Beauty, that's a Species must  
To others for a Genus trust.  
For know 'tis general consent  
That makes you Women excellent;  
Nor is't in yours, but in our eyes  
Your principal perfection lies;  
And though you bear such monstrous rates,  
From us you had your estimates.  
While prostrate at your feet we lie,  
Our humbled necks mount you so high;  
Our breath doth lift you up, though grown  
Out of our reach, to pluck you down.  
It is Opinion that must tell  
Nature if she've done ill or well.  
If Man did never Court her Face  
Woman would never Court her glass;  
'Tis we that make you wise or fair,  
Or good, or whatsoever you are,  
And when you give yourselves to Man  
'Tis but his gift given back again.  
I'll swear but now I looked on you  
As I would up to Heaven do,  
And valued you at such a rate  
That all Mankind's to poor to pay't,  
When had you still been clouded thus  
I should have thought you leprous.  
Whoever will a face extol  
None ever saw, for beautiful,  
With as much reason might commend  
The Child unborn for his brave end.  
But for the eye no Beauty were,  
No more than music but for th'ear.  
Your gaudy vessels but for man  
Had empty and unregarded lain,  
Rotten upon the Dock where they  
Were built, and never seen the sea;  
Or Launched forth been made a sport  
For every wind, and known no Port:  
Or, being driven to one by chance,  
( Cheated by your own ignorance,)  
Where now you richly fraughted come,  
Returned laden with ballast home.  
Let nature rig you up with all  
The trim and state a prodigal  
And skilful builder can invent  
Either for use or Ornament;  
Double and treble Deck you; arm  
You with the power of your own charms;  
Hatch you with Beauty, and endow  
You with that worth may Anchor you;  
Streamer you with your own bright hair,  
That Crown of Comets which you wear,  
Which like a Glory aptly place  
Themselves in curls about your face;  
Of those most lovely eyes of yours  
Let her create two Cynosures;  
And more to dazzle our weak sense  
Gild you with beams are shot from thence;  
With Honour ballast you, and give  
You that so large prerogative  
Of a great fortune, yet you stand  
Windbound, unladen, and unmanned.  
Our praises are the only gales  
That have the power to swell your sails:  
We are your Merchants, and you are  
From us to have your bill of fare;  
We are your Pilots, who should sit  
At th'Helm, though by you thrust from it;  
We( Madam) are your judges too,  
( Though too oft sentenced by you)  
And generally believe that she,  
( Choose how Miraculous it be)  
That any ways declines so just  
A trial, doth herself mistrust.  
Then draw this cypress cloud which doth  
Thus both to Beauty wrong, and truth;  
And since there is no cause for this,  
Let not the world believe there is.    

On a lame and scolding Negro,  

HOld me the light a little, what is this,  
Which both the substance & the shadow is?  
What work of darkness is't that talks thus loud,  
Like Thunder, speaking from behind a cloud?  
Whose face looks like night's mantle, and the Sun  
Withdraws himself, if by her looked upon?  
Now I conjure thee by Belzebub tell  
Me what thou art, be thou a Fiend of Hell,  
Or else some Christian soul, which, thus with smoke  
And fire all blacked, hath Purgatory broke;  
Or be thou indeed mortal, flesh and blood  
Like us, felt,( heard I'm sure) and understood.  
If so, why dost thou wear this veil? from whence  
Proceeds in Creatures such a difference?  
Sure Nature, grieved for some great loss, to show  
Her sorrow, clothed thee in a mourning hue,  
And made thee lame, that it might not lie hid  
How little care she took of what she did:  
Or else in thee she bountifully showed  
Where she her richest treasures had bestowed;  
Thy body all compact of golden Ore  
Taught us where thou wert found to look for more;  
And by that means thou wert at once a Scorn  
To us, and traitor to thy country born.    

An epithalamium  
Invocation of Hymen,  

COme Hymen, come, 'tis thou alone  
Canst satisfy this longing payr;  
'Tis thou must justify them one,  
As they in heart already are.   

Come then and join their willing hands,  
That as their souls long since did kiss,  
Their bodies may no longer stand  
Exempted from so great a bliss.   

Fly, fly, thou snail-paced God to Church,  
And hasten the solemnities:  
Ne'er trifle time to light thy torch,  
But rather do it at her eyes.   

Thou wouldst not use this needless stay,  
Wert thou but warmed with half their fire;  
Then how should Mortals brook delay  
When they be winged with desire?   

Come Hymen, come, thou art too slow;  
Th' impatient Groom is in a rage,  
He tells the Moments as they go,  
And thinks each minute is an Age.   

The bashful Bride hangs down her head,  
And silently she curses thee.  
Her Cheeks are double-dyed in red,  
With Anger and with Modesty.   

The Turtles on the Altars mourn  
To see their deaths deferred so long,  
And Cupid in a rage hath sworn  
Thou dearly shalt repent the wrong.   

Venus knits her offended brow,  
And with her angry Son accords  
No Rites hereafter to allow,  
But taking one another's words.   

Thus, thus will thy cold Altars fall,  
Thus will thy Temples be defaced,  
And thou abandoned of all  
Wilt be undeified at last.   

Then, while some reverence thy name,  
While thou art yet esteemed divine,  
Throw not the remnant of thy Fame  
Away, but these two Lovers join.    

To a Gentlewoman that sued to her Servant, whom she had formerly forsaken.  

THou Mayest as well leave off; thy tears, or smiles,  
I count no better than a crocodiles,  
And all thy protestations are but wiles.   

Thou Mayest as easily out-noise the Wind,  
Deaf the rude Sea, make Love no longer blind,  
As change the tenor of a settled mind.   

I'd loved too long should I not know at last  
How quickly all thy vows were overpast,  
And thy old servant by a new displaced.   

And should I know all this, and not take heed,  
'Twere pity than but I afresh should bleed,  
And you might beg me for a fool indeed.   

False Woman no, thy unsuspected fall  
Hath quenched those flames, and left, of that great All,  
Nought but the ashes of Loves funeral.   

And canst thou hope to kindle a new fire  
Where there be left no sparks of old desire,  
And a Love-broken heart is made entire?   

Why then I'll yield; but, since I cannot be  
Thy Love, such Miracles shall make of thee  
A God, and I'll adore thy deity.   

But thou art far from that, as Heavens from cares,  
So far thou canst not hope for't in thy prayrs,  
Nor purchase with thy penitential tears.   

For my young hate of thee is so improved,  
As I to hate myself am almost moved  
When I but think that I a woman loved.   

Yet I'll not say all Women are untrue,  
Nor but the bad may mend, but never you,  
However I will ne'er believe you do.   

But if, as thou hast prodigally swore,  
Thou lov'st me better now than e'er before:  
Show it me then and trouble me no more.    

How to choose a Mistress▪  

FIrst I would have a face exactly fair:  
Not long, nor yet precisely circular.  
A smooth high brow, where neither Age, nor yet  
A froward peevishness hath wrinkles set,  
And under that a pair of clear black eyes  
To be the windows of the edifice;  
Not sunk into her head, nor starting out;  
Not fixed, nor rolling wantonly about;  
But gently moving, as to whet the sight  
By some fresh object, not the appetite:  
Their Orbs both equal, and divided by  
A wel-proportioned noses Ivory.  
The nostrils open, fit to try what air  
Would best preserve the Mansion, what impair.  
The colour in her cheek so mixed, the eye  
Cannot distinguish where the red doth lie,  
Or white; but every part thereof, as loathe  
To yield in either, equally hath both:  
The mouth but little, whence proceeds a breath,  
Which might revive one in the gates of death,  
And envy strike in the Panchayan groves,  
When their spiced tops a gentle East-wind moves.  
The lips ruddy, as blushing to be known  
Kissing each other, by the Lookers on;  
And these not to perpetual talk disposed,  
Nor always in a lumpish silence closed;  
But e'ury word her innocence brings forth  
Sweetened by a discreet and harmless mirth.  
The teeth even, and white; a dimpled chin;  
And all these clothed with the purest skin.  
Then, as good painters ever use to place  
The darker shadow to the fairer face,  
A sad brown hair, whose amorous curls may tie  
The prisoners fast, ta'en captive by her eye.  
Thus would I have her face; and for her mind  
I'd have it clothed in virtue, not behind  
The other's Beauty, for a house thus dressed  
Should be provided of a noble guest.  
Then would I have a body so refined,  
Fit to support this face, enclose this mind.  
When all these Graces I in one do prove,  
Then may Death blind me if I do not love.  
Yet there is one thing more must needs concur;  
She must love me as well as I love her.    

Love without Hope.  

HOpeless( ah me) I love, nor can I tell  
Whether my Love, or my Despair,  
Deserve to be esteemed the greater hell,  
For both alike do breed my care;  
Despairs cold frost cooleth not hot desire,  
Nor yet is warmed at the neighbouring fire   

The faculties of my distempered minde,  
Another's servants are become,  
And my corrupted reason hath resigned  
To his old enemy his room;  
There the usurper now the tyrant plays.  
Ill must that kingdom thrive where Faction sways.   

Toogreedily I gazed, and through mine eyes  
My heart did fly unto her breast.  
She, with her own contented, straight denies  
To entertain so poor a guest.  
With tears it begged, that since it had bestowed  
Itself on her, it might not lie abroad.   

But, she by this confirmed in her scorn,  
No tears, no prayers were prevalent;  
Coldly she did advise it to return,  
And, proud she'd counsel it, it went.  
But( ah) in vain; struck blind with too much light,  
The way was stopped through 〈◊〉 it took its flight.   

Naked and wounded it lay helpless there,  
Till, I who once had owned it,  
Was for the Run'way a Petitioner,  
I only begged she would permit  
The wretch a habitation there to have,  
Though used in the Nature of a slave.   

Indeed I hoped better, for could I  
Imagine she would ever br●nd  
Her name with breach of Hospitality,  
Whose credit did so candid stand,  
As all that knew her thought they might deter  
Vice from their Childten, if named after her?   

But what's more free than gift? this empty seat  
Doth feel the absent Captives pain,  
And now too late I do her heart entreat  
Far Hostage, or mine own again.  
Thus by my folly am I overthrown;  
Constrained to beg for what was once mine own.   

My heart a Slave; Reason of rule bereft;  
My Will, and understanding wait  
On hers, and unto me is only left  
Th' sad Memory of a better State.  
What can I hope for then, who am so poor?  
Besides my sorrows I can give no more.    

The dumb LOVER,  

FAir 〈◊〉, cruel Maid,  
Many Shepherds had inflamed,  
Whose complaints her sport she made,  
Frowning still when Love was named,  
Yet those frowns did Love persuade.   

'Mong the rest( ah hapless Youth)  
Ann●phil did wish to have her,  
Though scant of wealth, yet in sooth  
Passing all that sought her favour,  
For his passing, passing truth.   

This poor Wretch sought to suppress  
With his tears the rising fire,  
But those tears proved witnesses  
To the World of his desire,  
And his pains were ne'er the less.   

Speak he durst not, for he feared  
No death worse than a denial;  
Yet in his eyes, still beteared,  
A too miserable trial  
Of what Love can do, appeared.   

Arms across, unsteady pace,  
Eyes cast down as in subjection,  
Broken words, and changed face,  
A most desperate affection  
In the woeful youth betrays.   

Coward Love, oft would he say,  
Who thy shafts on slaves bestowest;  
Wounding such as do obey,  
But with rebel's meeting, throwest  
Down thine arms, and runnest away:   

Was it not enough that I  
Willingly thy yoke took on me?  
But I must that service buy,  
Which( I fear) hath quite undone me  
With fresh cares, fresh misery?   

Was it not enough that thou  
With thy proper force refused  
To succour me, but that now  
My tongue( th'rough thee speech-disused)  
Cannot mine own thoughts avow?   

Art thou a God, who I see  
Thus thy humblest Vassals wrongest?  
No, thy weaker Deity  
Either yields unto her strongest,  
Or thy sting is lost in me.   

Then his hearty sighs would show  
What his tongue had left unspoken,  
And he beat his breast to know  
If his heart, already broken,  
Now were quite consumed or no.   

And, as if those windy sighs,  
Had in him a tempest raised,  
Floods would seem to drown his eyes,  
Because they too much had gazed  
For unsafe discoveries.   

Once he in this woeful Plight  
Had his lovely Saint espied;  
But at that unlooked for sight  
The storm was laid, the floods dried,  
And his eyes beheld the light.   

How he then amazed stood!  
With what more than glutton-greediness  
He devoured that precious food!  
Health could not dissuade his neediness  
From what his sense found so good.   

His eyes left Physicians rules;  
Measure in such feasts observed  
Is a lesson fit for fools:  
They from such nice precepts swerved  
Trained in Love and beauties Schools.   

Yet his tongue would fain have got  
So much leisure from their wonder,  
As might serve for to relate  
What a burden he lay under;  
But to speak it knew not what.   

And when he her heart to bow  
Had framed a speech full of passions,  
Mingling many a faithful vow  
With more humble supplications,  
Then( alas) it knew not how.   

Yet his other parts did prove  
Friends to its determination;  
All his gestures spoke of Love,  
All did seem to beg compassion;  
Even his silent lips did move.   

And in words, which never are  
Heard but by the understanding,  
Whispered forth, O heav●enly hair,  
O goddess all, all commanding,  
Deign to hear a Caitiff's prayer.   

Long have I loved, loved well,  
Faithful Love not hate deserveth.  
What savage mind is so fell,  
As his loving flock he starveth,  
If not saved by Miracle?   

Long have I served, service true  
Requires wages for painstaking;  
And, though stipends were not due,  
What Miser's so given to raking  
As he would no favour show?   

Long have I in fetters lain;  
Misery compassion breedeth;  
And, though Pity quite were slain,  
The bloodyest mind never feedeth  
On such as count death a gain.   

See but how the Sun displays  
His beams on the meanest Creatures;  
And will you withdraw your▪ rays  
From one who admires your features,  
And knows no light but your face?   

See our fruitful Mother earth,  
How she in her Womb doth cherish  
The Seed, till a happy birth  
Makes the lab'rors' fields to flourish;  
And will you bring forth a dearth?   

Mark how every grateful tree  
Yields the Swain a yearly blessing,  
And will you undressed be  
Ere you'll either pay for dressing,  
Or accept the courtesy?   

When a fruitful shower of rain  
From a melting cloud distilleth,  
The earth drinks it up again,  
And it the earth's wrinkles filleth;  
Shall my tears then fall in vain?   

Breath you forth a fervent prayer,  
Heaven therewith is straight acquainted,  
And you hope will ease your care;  
Should not then my suit be granted,  
Since you so like to heaven are?   

Love the neighbouring Elm and Vine  
In such strict embraces tyeth:  
Love doth make the Turtle pine  
When his loving marrow dyeth;  
And have you no sense of mine?   

Love his power doth each where prove,  
Every thing hath Love about it,  
Trees, Beasts, Birds, and Gods above,  
And are you alone without it?  
The most lovely void of Love?   

Change, O change this humorous mind;  
Never by a name be fooled,  
Greater glory will you find,  
Be by Flesh and blood but ruled,  
If you leave a Babe behind.   

Were you now laid in your grave,  
And this beauteous outside rotten,  
No monuments your fame could save,  
Virtue quickly is forgotten,  
If the world no Pictures have.   

Then, if Marriage be the best,  
The best Lover should be chosen.  
Will you warm a niggard's breast,  
Whose desire with care is frozen,  
And his Mistress in his chest?   

Or shall any sensual slave  
Glory in so rich a Treasure;  
One who covets but to have  
You to satisfy his pleasure,  
Which his lust, not Love doth crave?   

Rather take a man would die,  
One who goods and life despiseth,  
Might he pleasure you thereby;  
( This from perfect Love ariseth)  
Such an one( though poor) am I.   

Thus within himself he prayed,  
But received small satisfaction,  
For she heard not what be said,  
And she would not read his action.  
So the Wretch is quite dismayed.    

A Remedy against LOVE.  

IF thou like her slowing tresses,  
Which the unshorn Phaebus stain,  
Think what grief thy heart oppresses,  
And how every curls a chain  
Only made to keep thee fast,  
Till thy sentence be o'rpast.   

If thou'rt wounded by her eyes  
Where thou thinkest Cupid's lie,  
Think thyself the Sacrifice,  
Those the Priests that make thee die:  
If her forehead beauteous show,  
Think her forehead Cupid's bow.   

If the Roses thou hast seen  
In her cheek still flourishing  
Argue that there dwells within  
A calm, and perpetual Spring,  
Though she never used deceit,  
Believe all is counterfeit.   

If her tempting voice have power  
To amaze and ravish thee,  
Sirens sung but to devour,  
Yet they sung as well as she.  
O beware those poisoned tongues  
That carry death in their songs.   

If the best perfumes seem vile  
To her odorif'rous breath,  
And the Phoenix funeral pile  
When she propagates in death,  
Then remember how that she  
Lives by that doth poison thee.   

If her comely body has  
Fairest in thine eye appeared,  
Think how that a trophy was  
Only for thy ruin reared.  
Women oft their beauty's praise  
On their lover's ruins raise.   

And if she have every part  
May a Woman perfect make,  
And, without the help of Art,  
Firmest resolutions shake,  
Know Pandora had so too,  
Who was made but to undo.   

But if virtue please thee most,  
And thou like her beauteous mind,  
Than I give thee o'er for lost;  
There no remedy I find;  
Yet if she be virtuous then  
Sure she will not murder men.    

Answer to the former.  

OH Vain lip-wisdom, that dost make me school  
Another in those things I cannot learn  
Myself! only this difference I discern  
To be 'twixt thee and a professed fool;  
He wears his cognisance, but thou hast hit  
Asslike upon the lion skin of Wit.   

Fool that I was! what if those curls be chains,  
What if her eyes do murder my content,  
What if her brow be to my ruin bent;  
Are fear of death, hate of a prisoners pains,  
Of power to set the wretched captive free,  
And not( rather) augment his misery?   

How idly have I talked! if I could rack  
My faith till I believed she did paint,  
Would not the wrong done such a faultless Saint  
Be a fresh torment to my soul, and make  
Me hate myself who did so basely err,  
Rather than have a misconceit of her?   

Sure too much wit hath made me mad. I said  
The Sirens only sung to work our harm;  
But who at any time avoids the charm?  
Ulysses did. Ulysses was afraid  
And▪ since he scaped) may thank his timely fears  
That taught him( Ere he heard them) t'stop his ears.   

But here's a potent argument indeed,  
There is( Forsooth) such an antipathy  
Betwixt us two, her breath doth poison me!  
I would I might upon such poison seed;  
But were it so; have I nor ●inely brought  
An Antidote when't hath already wrought?   

Here comes more stuff of the stamp; that brave  
Storehouse of Noble▪ worth, virtue's best seat,  
Where first( like Sisters) she and Beauty met,  
Made but a trophy for a conquered slave.  
And what infers all this, ●ut that I am  
Hers( by the Rule of War) who overcame?   

Into what errors do poor Lovers slip!  
But now, I did affirm Pandora made  
So fair, that man might better be betrayed.  
Were the Gods cheated in their workmanship?  
But that they knew man's frailty had they sent  
Her, thus adorned, for a punishment?   

Here have I mixed truths with falsehoods; right  
Indeed it is that in a virtuous Love  
The Soul is fixed, and findeth no remove;  
But 'twere as base and false for to indite  
A virtuous Woman for destroy'ng Mankind,  
As th' Sun when the rash gazer is Struck blind.   

I Love( alas) I Love, nor all the skill  
Of my subjected reason can resist  
His power who Tyrannises as he list;  
Acknowledging no Law besides his will:  
And I by striving do but make my sore  
Fester, my bondage harder than before.    

To Almanna, Why She should Marry Me.  

HOw comes this sudden change, my Dear?  
I will be sworn, not full two days ago  
Thou wert most excellently fair,  
But now, I grieve to say't, thou'rt nothing so.  
No sickness could disfigure you,  
Nor sorrow plough such wrinkles in your face,  
Your happy bosom never knew  
That saw●y thought, which durst disturb your peace.  
But yet if grief or sickness should  
Have the good Fortune to approach so nigh,  
Sickness itself recover would,  
And sorrow be converted into joy.  
Nor can I yet believe you owe  
Aught unto Art for the last face you wore,  
A borrowed Beauty you I know  
Despise, and would have none at all before.  
Choose how it be, methinks that face  
Appears to me now no such Miracle;  
Yet still it is the same it was,  
Only it doth not please me half so well.  
Then you will say 'tis evident  
The change is in my judgement and not you:  
It is so, but than you must grant  
'Tis, 'c●use I know more now than then I knew.  
Sweet! I will tell thee; heretofore  
I never pierced further than thy Skin;  
Reading thy body o'er and o'er;  
Without examining what was within.  
And then indeed I did esteem  
Thy matchless Beauty at so high a rate,  
That every object else did seem  
A mere deformity compared to that.  
But now this happy day, I have  
Discovered a new and richer mine,  
I all my admiration gave  
To that most admirable soul of thine,  
Which so dims all exterior form  
That now thy Body worthless did appear,  
And sure had fallen beneath my scorn,  
But that I see thy soul is lodged there.  
Now, if thy Body in revenge  
Shall yield itself to base desires, thou'lt see  
Another, but a far worse change;  
Thy Body fair, thy Soul deformed will be.  
But if thou wilt give me a right  
To call them both mine own, thou so shalt make  
Them both seem precious in thy sight,  
Yet neither from the other's lustre take.  
For while my soul is thus alone  
The judge both of thy soul and body made,  
It partially inclines to one  
And no regard is to the other had.  
But if my body once were joined  
In the Commission with it, then would thine  
A far more equal sentence find  
Being supported by the Love of mine.  
Like is best judge of like we say,  
And sure in shape I wondrous like thee am,  
Since thus by the whole world we may  
So easily be taken for the same:  
Then plight me but thy troth, and thou,  
Both in thy mortal, and immortal part,  
Shalt seem more fair than thou seemest now;  
Nay, were it possible, more fair than th' art.  
Then I all day will gaze on thee,  
And feast at night on what I then did view,  
And thou( my Dear) shalt so both be  
My study and my recreation too.  
Nor shalt thou yet, though made one flesh  
With me, lose any thing at all thereby;  
But grow to more by being less,  
And even by contraction multiply.  
Our very souls shall twine and be  
So close in mutual embraces knit,  
They shall grow Parents too, and we  
New virtues will as well as Children get.  
Stilled th'rough th' alembic of desire  
Our bodies by degrees shall melt away,  
And purged by a still equal fire  
From all their dross, grow souls as well as they.  
But if thou trust to others eyes,  
And shalt reject so generous a flame,  
believe it others shall thee prize,  
Not as the wonder of thy sex but shame.  
The brighter that the Angels were  
Before they from their first Creation fell,  
Each one did afterwards appear  
By so much the more dark, and terrible.  
And if thou look but back thou'lt find  
Pride, and Rebellion causes of their fall;  
Sins, to which murder will be joined  
In thee, and make thee the great'st deu'l of all.  
For know this heart of mine was given  
Long since up to the power of Love; but he  
Godlike, did still keep state in Heaven,  
And only ruled there by Deputy.  
And since he had the faith suspected  
Or skill, of any one particular,  
He unadvisedly erected  
An Aristocracy of every fair.  
But thence such evils did ensue,  
And my poor heart was so in pieces rent,  
That he at length did fix on you,  
And made it a Monarchick Government.  
Then now thou'st All that All they had,  
Shouldst thou turn Tyrant, & with fire & sword  
Thine own Dominions invade,  
Wouldst thou not be by the whole world abhorred?  
The Angels thinking to de pose  
The Deity, were into Devils turned:  
And fear'st not thou the fate of those,  
( Whose sin thou imitatest,) if I be scorned?  
For though thou covet not the Throne,  
Yet thou dethrone Loves great Deity;  
And though thou make them not thine own,  
The Subject killest, and kingdom dost destroy.    

The Meteor.  

DId you behold that glorious Star,( my Dear)  
( Which shined but now, me thought, as bright  
As any other child of light,  
And seemed to have as good an interest there)  
How suddenly it fell, our Eyes  
Pursuing it through all the spacious Skies,  
Through which the now extended Flame  
Had chalked the way to Earth from whence it came?   

And were you not with wonder struck to see  
Those Forms, which the Creation had  
At first in number perfect made,  
Thus sometimes more, and sometimes less to be?  
Or rather in this second Birth,  
To see heaven copied out so near by Earth,  
As were it not for their own fall,  
We should not know which were the Original?   

Fair one, these different Lights do represent  
Such as pretend unto the Love  
Of you, of● which some Meteors prove,  
Some Stars; some high fixed in Loves Firmament,  
And some( that seem as bright and fair)  
More basely humble hover in the Air  
Of words, and with fine dextrous art,  
Do act a Passion never touched their heart,   

Yet these false Glow-worm fires a while do shine  
Equal to the most heau'n-born flame,  
And so well counterfeit the same,  
That they, though almost beastly, seem divine;  
But should some blind unlucky chance  
Deform you any ways, or make your wants  
Vie greatness with your Beauty, then,  
They drop to their own Element again.   

That Witch self-love is the sole Guide to these,  
And sets such Charms upon their blood,  
That 'tis with it or Ebb or flood,  
According to their own Conveniencies;  
And now those seem thus clear and high,  
They also mount and shine, but by and by  
Not able to maintain that height,  
Fall overcharged with their own sordid weight.   

That seeming Star which shot but now was made  
Of vapours by the Sun exhaled,  
When our Meridian he scaled,  
And still ●ad stayed there, had he still stayed;  
But now its proper Centre is  
Thus interposed betwixt him and this,  
In that forced height it will remain  
No longer, but inclines to Earth again.   

So while your Beauty its bright rays projects  
Upon these grovelling sons of Earth,  
It giveth new affections Birth,  
And to a nobler height their ●ouls erects;  
So winging their newborn desire,  
Their towering thoughts dare at yourself aspire,  
And gotten the half way, do there  
Hover a while 'twixt yours and their own Sphere.   

But when the night of Absence doth divide  
You from their view, and their first base  
Desires possess the middle space,  
And court them back again, their thoughts abide  
No longer in suspense, nor stay  
So much as the decision of the Day,  
But ere that can, with you, return,  
They all unite themselves to the first-born.   

Now such as love like me are truly Stars,  
And even then do shine most bright  
When most you do absent your light:  
Let Chance, let Nature place the strongest bars  
Of wealthy Earth 'twixt you and me,  
Or mask you with a Cloud of leprosy,  
Yet still my Love should be the same,  
And at some part of your great soul still light its flame.    

An epithalamium  

Upon T. P. and M. H.  

INsulting Night proud in her lengthened sway.  
Hail glorious Maid, whose brighter beams display,  
And with fresh lustre wing the tardy Day.   

Phoebus, who worn with Age, now bedrid lies,  
Looks out to see what God his room supplies,  
And takes new vigour from your sparkling eyes.   

Some, who your morning Blushes saw, did swear  
The Sun looked red, and a foul day was near;  
But all the shower will be a maiden tear.   

Fair Virgin blush not,( though a Bride) to none  
Are you beholding for the Light which shone;  
Guided unto the Temple by your own.   

No intermeddling God can claim a share  
In this Conjunction; you yourselves did pair;  
They not Assistants but Spectators were.   

Cupid his Quiver emptied had in vain;  
Your Husband did retort his shafts again;  
But with one glance shot from your eye was slain.   

The pitying Epidaurian straight was moved,  
But all his Balsams ineffectual proved:  
'Tis known he dies you wound, if not beloved.   

Glad Love with his recovered shafts persuades  
Himself he easily can conquer maid's▪  
And with his dull Artillery you invades:   

But his ill-headed Darts did all rebound;  
Only soft pity there an entrance found:  
So Buff daunts Swords, which a weak straw will wound.   

The blow was double, you yourself did groan,  
When you beheld what you yourself had done,  
And surely loved his wound because your own.   

Hymen the Priest of heaven than left the Skies  
To wait on you in these Solemnities,  
But had his Torch extinguished by your eyes.   

The busy God, that he might something do  
Studied a Benediction then; but you  
Proved both the Blessing and the Donor too.   

Jove's Herald, warned by the Trump of Fame,  
His Hat and Feet new-winged hither came,  
To bless you in his absent father's name.   

Who would have come himself, but that afraid  
The giants of this Age should heaven invade,  
Were they not by his awful Thunder stayed.   

Thus should the God have spoke; but he doth stand  
With wonder dumb, & from his trembling hand,  
The Charmer charmed, let's fall his snaky wand▪   

Bacchus beheld, who all amazed cried,  
Had Semel' had these rays she had not died;  
But Jove himself( though armed with lightning)   

Straight he his wine-press leaves, & bringeth down fried.  
For you his Ariadne's starry Crown;  
But finds you wear a richer of your own.   

The God of War doth from the battle ●lie;  
Hangs up his useless Sword and layeth by  
All other tokens of Hostility.   

His crimsoned hand from blood; his brow from sweat,  
And dust now cleansed, he humbly doth entreat  
He may on you to Concor●'s Temple wait.   

But while he covets peace, the God doth wage  
A War within himself, whose potent rage  
Doth in the Conflict all his powers engage.   

The twice repulsed ● 〈◊〉, who his sight  
For this days triumph begged, doth curse the light;  
Before but hoodwinked; now he's blinded quite.   

Vulcan his Forge in Sicily neglects,  
And hither his lame steps in haste directs,  
Heaven's peril, nor Jove's anger he respects.   

A thousand Hammers in his brain do beat,  
And all his study is how he may get  
You ●etter'd in his Artificial Net.   

But the deceived God while that he placed  
And in conceit already you embraced,  
Was by a look of yours himself chained fast.   

His Wife at once blushed, wept, and sighed, and frowned,  
And cried, Now is my Pap●os unrenowned,  
And all her Glory in this Mue●t-lake drowned.   

My Mars hath left me, would she would allow  
Me but my long despised Husband now;  
But he is prisoner too, I know not how.   

This said, she yokes her Doves, resolved to see  
If by her Beauty she again might free  
Whom yours had brought into Captivity.   

Vain was her enterprise, she soon confessed,  
The magic of her Face could not contest  
With yours, and so stood gazing with the rest.   

The warlike Pallas knits her martial brows,  
And as she shakes her trembling spear, she vows  
Revenge, than her unveiled Gorgo● shows:   

But strait she found her Error, You alone  
Did more than she determined to have done,  
Medusa's Head and She both turned to stone.   

The bashful Phoebe with a downcast look  
To beg your kind reflection hither took  
A journey, and her darkened Orb forsook:   

But ready now to utter her Desire,  
The light was such she durst approach no nigher,  
Nor yet in that amazement could retire.   

Great Juno backs a Cloud, and as she sails  
Thorough the Air, her blushing Face she vails  
( Now vanquished twice) with her stripped Peacocks   

Her Argos hundred Eyes she hates, and pined tails▪  
With envy wishes that she had been blind  
Herself, when first she did your Beauty find.   

The Goddess stoops to Earth, & thinks to shroud  
You from Jove's view in a condensed Cloud;  
But you dispersed it, and more glorious showed.   

Thus all the Gods this morning suffered shame  
By you alone, and stood as in a Dream▪  
Till you once joined, unto themselves they came.   

And now Bacchus and Ceres strive who best  
Shall please your company; for you they ghost  
Would most on one another's Faces feast.   

The others( daring not appear) have sent,  
By me their Proxy this short compliment,  
Which once delivered away they went.    


BRight Virgin, though your blooming youth abound  
With all those Virtues which the Earth adorn;  
Though every part be with that Beauty crowned,  
May make it noon ere it be fully morn.   

Though bounteous heaven no blessings hath in store  
Which you deserve not richly to enjoy;  
Whatever Phoebus doth behold, and more,  
Even to twist the thread of Destiny.   

Though you deserve the Seas discovered womb  
Should unto you her hidden Treasures give,  
Which when you die should serve to build your Tomb;  
But all the Gods attend you whilst you live.   

Though we confess all this to be your due,  
Yet do not boast that it is yours alone;  
Your Husband meriteth both this, and you;  
What then deserve you now conjoined in one?   

May you live long and happy, all your days  
Crowned with a lasting plenty and content;  
May no disturbance ever cloud the Face;  
But what one doth, let be by either meant.   

A fruitful, and a toward lineage bless  
Your youth; the subject to support your age;  
And when Death summons you, in happiness  
May they succeed as well as Heritage.   

And( if more may be said) may you two have  
Blessings above your hopes, above your wishes;  
And when age fits your bodies for the Grave,  
May then your spirits meet breathed out in Kisses.   

Thus the uncaptived Gods do jointly pray,  
Yet Juno vows a chaste revenge withal,  
Swearing( fair Bride) that you a while shall stay,  
Before you do upon Lucina call.     

On a Necklace of small Pomander, given him by a Lady.  

ANd art thou mine at length? com'st thou to deck  
My worthless Wrist thus presumed by her neck?  
Canst thou so freely to my use dispense  
That precious odour thou receivedst thence?  
Couldst thou( alas) such real joys forsake  
For this sad cause to justify thy black?  
Me thought thou wert, while thou didst that invest,  
The cinders of the Phoenix spiced Nest,  
Out of which rose her admirable Face,  
As the sole species of that Virgin Race.  
There hadst thou grown immortal; while worn there  
No day but added to thy Life a Year:  
But now thou dost with me in Exile live,  
Each day doth take, what there each day did give.  
Alas poor Fool! Man might have taught thee this,  
Death waits on those are banished paradise.  
Couldst thou have still continue there, thou'dst been  
Long-lived as he, had he not found out sin.  
No Fate had cut thy thread, nor chance unstrung  
Thy Beads, till the world's Passing-Bell had  
Pearls had looked pale with Envy, Diamonds mourned,  
And sparkling forth their prouder anger burned,  
While every grain of thee had grown a Gem  
Of greater price than the whole Race of them.  
The wary Prophets mercenary Wife,  
Who for a Bracelet sold her Husband's life,  
And thought her Crime excused, the flame-faced stones  
Being such prevalent Temptations,  
All her so dear-bought jewels would have thrown  
Down at her feet for the exchange of one  
Thou'dst grown a Rosary for Angels there,  
Thy glorious Beads dropped in eternal Prayer.  
Offered in smoke thou mightst have bought the Gods  
Out of their Heaven to have changed Abodes  
With thee; we should have seen the deathless Train  
About her neck linked in an endless Chain:  
The emulous Powers contending who should rest  
On the Swan-downy Pillows of her breast,  
Where by a more especial favour thrown,  
They had that heaven preferred to their own.  
And canst thou quit so coveted a place  
To feel such a sick Pulses frantic pace?  
To circle this poor arm which still must mourn  
Because it must not be where thou wert worn?  
Indeed 'tis true my small Physician, she  
Taught thee thy skill, but 'tis best showed on me.  
Thanks charitable Friend. For this will I  
Study a reward great as thy courtesy.  
No relic shall be kept more safe, nor be  
In greater Adoration had than thee:  
Each morning will I with a trembling kiss  
Offer my burning Lips in Sacrifice:  
All day look on thee with that greedy view,  
As if I meant to string mine Eyes there too:  
At night my never slumbering thoughts shall keep  
The Watch, while thou dost in my bosom sleep;  
And lest my panting Heart alarm thee there,  
I'll turn it out for to be lodged elsewhere:  
I would not with a minute's absence buy  
The World, though heaven were the Security.  
I'll tell thy numerous seeds, and know the same  
Not only by their number, but by name;  
Then set a higher price on every Bead,  
Than I would rans●m upon a monarch's head;  
No wealth should fetch thee from me, unless she  
Would be the price herself, who owned thee.  
When scorched by some proud Beauty, I for shade  
Will fly to the small knots of thy dark braid:  
And when I'm ready with despair to freeze,  
I will inflame myself by kissing these;  
Driven to Extremity I scarce would stoop  
To take the chemists greatest secret up;  
For with a touch of thee my fancy would  
Be sure to turn all metals into Gold.  
Thou art my All on Earth, and he that robs  
Me but of one of these thy little Globes,  
I in heavens' juster Chancery will lay  
To's charge the stealing the whole World away;  
But which( when Fate protract) thy time is come,  
( Hastened with grief to be so long from home)  
Thou shalt from me again to her depart;  
For on the slaming Altar of my Heart  
I'll all the filth thou here contractedest take  
Away, and so in Incense pay thee back.   

Thus I'll requite thy kindness; but be sure,  
Thou dost not wound, where thou pretend'st to cure;  
'Twould be a treacherous and unworthy Art,  
Thus tied about mine arm, to give my Heart.    

On Himself being Lame.  

I Prithee tell not me of Pox or Gout;  
It is my fancy's fallen into my Foot.  
I know her haughty stomach did disdain  
To lie a soaking in a small-Beer brain;  
This Salamander doth in flames still dwell,  
And in a cooling julip finds a Hell.  
Give her a Bowl of Spanish, which might breathe  
A fever into the cold Limbs of Death;  
Might make the brethren's Marble rise, & dance,  
Till it had waked the drowsy Puritans,  
And raised their new-molded dust to sing  
Zealous Encomiums of the Cath'lique King:  
Then she will knock at heaven: this Tavern fly,  
When throughly drenched in Sack doth soar most high,  
And( like the south-wind) from her dropping wings,  
Shakes the bright shower, which up in numbers springs;  
Numbers might pose arithmetic, and teach  
Dull man what feet will up to Heaven reach;  
Numbers, which without sweeting are distilled,  
And writ when you'd believe the ink was spilled,  
And that in so harmonious a strain  
You'd find a music in the precious rain.  
Then might you see her Wine-wet cheeks outshine  
The Muses washing in their Hippocrene:  
She were a Wife for Bacchus then but that  
He must not marry what himself begat.  
Then she'd out-noise Jove's thunder, that which rent  
The Womb of Semele for the Firmament:  
Swear that with Genial Nectar he was warmed,  
When's fertile brain brought forth Minerva armed,  
And tell me if I'd heat it well with Wine  
His should not be more pregnant than should mine;  
She would be my Minerva, nor afraid  
To challenge at both Weapons the great Maid;  
And she would still have swaggered there no doubt,  
If I would still have turned my Reason out;  
But when she found herself was overawed  
By that, the ranting Girl herself outlawed;  
Then to spite me, she sick( forsooth) doth grow,  
And only because I would not be so:  
Drooping she down into my ankle fell  
Angry that I at Night should stand so well,  
And as she sunk she whispered in mine Ear,  
'Twas justice to lame me who lamed her.  
Since thou( saith she) wilt needs grow wise, and stayed,  
I'll stay thee within doors till thou grow mad;  
When business shall invite thee forth, or Friends,  
Thou shalt not stir, not though thy Mistress sends.  
Keep thy head sober, and mark if thou don't,  
Ere I have done, wish thou couldst go upon't;  
There let thy precious Reason rule, while I,  
To spite her, raise thy humble foot as high.  
There I, like Bacchus in Iov●'s Calf, will keep  
Such Revels, as shall rob thine Eyes of sleep;  
Run raging up and down▪ as if I were  
Turned Froe, and kept his frantic Orgies there;  
There will I quaff cold humours stead of Sack,  
And dance on th' Ropes till thy tough Sinews crack.  
Then shalt thou call for Wine, fill, fill again,  
And not for pleasure drink, but even for pain,  
Till thou hast been at a more vast expense  
To drive, than might before have kept me thence.  
Yet I'll not cripple thee of both, still use  
One Leg, and stand on't like a studying Goose;  
Make lamentable Verses, tuned with Oh,  
And commaed with Alas, which could they go  
But smoothly on a Ballad-singers tongue,  
Unto Holla my Fancy, might be sung:  
But whatsoever thou henceforth writest shall  
Serve for waste Paper to the hospital;  
Nor shalt thou there find any parcel man  
So lame, as he thy halting rhythms can skan.  
This is the truth, than never wonder why  
A harsh low Fancy writes nor smooth, nor high.  
What do her Numbers then in print, you'll say?  
Why, Faith, if they be good, I hope they may;  
If not, she is a Witch, and you'll confess,  
The Law condemneth Witches to the press.    

The broken Heart.  

GOd doth require a broken Heart; 'tis true;  
But he would have it whole, and broken too:  
Broken when it on its own sins reflects;  
Entire when Him its Object it respects.   

Woman will have the same; her Lover's Soul  
Must also both divided be and whole;  
Whole in regard none else doth in it share,  
But yet divided betwixt Hope and Fear.   

Heaven and Imperious Woman both lay claim  
Unto my Heart, and both will have the same  
Vnrivalled, yet the easi'r to decide  
The business I presumed to divide  
Betwixt them what they sought, & so being loathe  
To displease either, have displeased them both.  
What should I do? I knew I should preser  
My God, and therefore could not give it her:  
And when I would have given him all his due,  
Me thought in her I saw a Deity too.  
O Fool▪ thousands may claim thy Heart, but none  
Can have a Right unto his Claim but One.  
And Canst thou not distinguish Titles? He  
Doth Mercy exercise; she Tyranny.  
A Love-bred Confidence is the best sign  
Of a just Monarchy; a Right Divine.  
And Cruelty grounded upon distrust  
Is full as sure a note of an unjust.  
Give God thy broken heart, he whole will make it;  
Give Woman thy whole heart, and she will break it.    

To Phoebus, Seeing a Lady before Sun-rise.  

PHoebus lie still, and take thy rest  
Securely on thy I ethy's breast;  
Thou needest not rise to guild the East:   

For she is up whose wakings may  
Give birth and measure to the day,  
Although thou hide thyself away.   

Phoebus' lie still, and keep the side  
Warm of thy chaste and watery Bride,  
Thy useless Glory laid aside:   

For she is up whose beauty's might  
Can change even Darkness into Light,  
When thou canst but succeed the Night.   

Phoebus' lie still, and shroud thy head  
Within the covert of thy Bed,  
Or counterfeit that thou art dead:   

For she is up, and I do find  
Gazing on thee doth only blind  
The outward eyes, but her the Mind.   

Yet Phoebus rise, and take thy Chair  
Once more, shaking dull vapours from thy hair▪  
But wink, and look not on my fair:   

For if thou once her Beauty view,  
Ere night thou wilt thyself undo,  
Nor have a home to go unto.   

And were thy Chariot empty, she  
But too unfit a guide would be,  
Having already scorched me:   

For I'm afraid lest with desire  
She once more set the World on fire,  
Making all others Ae●hiops by her.    
FINIS.