OSTELLA Or the FACTION OF LOVE and BEAUTY reconciled.  
By I. T. Gent.  
LONDON  
Printed for John Tey, at the White-Lion in the Strand, near the New EXCHANGE, 1650.   

To the deservedly Honoured, and highly accomplished Sir Richard Hastings. Baronet.  
SIR,  
I Am no stranger to your worth, though I am to your Person; The fame of the one makes me Ambitious to be known to the other. It hath been the goodness of all Noble Souls, to Communicate their Virtues to the feeble, by taking them into their Protection; The light of which leads me to the boldness of sheltering these Poems under your Patronage. And though (Sir) this Presumption may justly Merit your Check, yet when your Judgement shall discover their nakedness, and find how much they need your fence against the storms their own weakness may draw upon them, your Native sweetness (Doubtless) will intercede for, and open the Sanctuary to  
Sir, Yours in all humbleness devoted. JOHN TATHAM.   

To the truly Ingenious, and promising fullness of Gallantry, Kimsmel Lucy. Esquire.  
SIR,  
W'Orthy Presents are received for their own value; mean ones (if at all) for his sake that bestows them: I will not then despair of kind Entertainment from you, since you have been pleased not to account me unwelcome to yourself. The favours from your Noble Father, and yourself obliges me to this duteous offering: And if you deny not it what you have vouchsafed to me, it shall be my care to render myself grateful by a more worthy Present. In the mean time, these may serve as salads, to provoke the Appetite of a young wit: I dare not commend them to you to feed on, since the smallest fragment that falls from the Banquet of your Fancy, the nicest palate may feast with. And therefore be pleased to admit me, if for no intrinsic worth of my own, yet in regard I have the virtue to admire yours.  
Your ever Honourer▪ I. T.   

The Book to the Reader.  

I'M troubled with no less  
Than the Plague of the Press,  
you see the Spots are on me:  
Yet, I would not be crossed,  
Lest my Author be lost;  
but I'd have— MERCY upon ME.    

ERRATA.  
PAge 8. line 3. for orment read torment. p. 9 l. 23. for loves r. ●eaves. p. 10. l. 4. for heart r. tears. p. ●2. l. 19 for hold r. held p. 26. l. 21. for if it be r. if't be. p. 35. l. 19 (the) too much. p. 38. l. 8, for the r. thy. l. 29. for best r. blessed. p. 43. l. 1. for was r. was. p. 44. l. 1. for insection r. infection. l. 18. for votury r. votary. p. 47. l. 8. for doth r. do. p. 48. l. 4 for 'tis r. to's. p. 51. l. 9 for with r. which. l. ●3. for All r. herald p. 55. l. 15. for nubrown r. ●utbrown. p. 61. l. 6. for sweetness r. sweets. p. 79. l. 4. for its r. it p. 92. l. 18. for the r. thy. p. 97▪ l 14. for not r. our. l. 20. for as r or. p. 98. l. 5. for Lortes r. Lutes. l▪ 22. for Milk r, Meat. p. 100 l. 20▪ for sight r. sight. p. 103 l. 16, for which r. with. p. 104. l. 24. for draw r. drown. p. 106. l. 12. for just r. mist. l, 19 for enjoyed r. envied.   

OSTELLA: Or The Faction of Love and Beauty Reconciled.  

Upon my first sight of OSTELLA.  

IN what dark world have I entombed my sight  
thus long, till now, I ne'er saw perfect light:  
The Sun his common favours doth dispense,  
as well unto the Peasant as the Prince.  
Each Ploughman whistles forth Aurora's ray.  
and proudly vaunts, an interest in the day;  
The Moon we know doth slender light maintain,  
she's scarce in the full, before she's in the wain:  
The Stars (those petty instruments of light,)  
Seldom appear, but in a frosty night.  
These lights do rule by turns. Nor can One take,  
another's time on; or All one light make.  
When here is one whose lustre doth excel  
all natural causes; heaven on her brow doth dwell.  
Her glory's still the same, and ne'er declines,  
but with the selfsame Majesty still shines.  
Sure did those negroes that adore the Sun:  
but feel her temperate heat they soon would shun  
That heresy, and offer sacrifice  
to the Celestial vigour of her eyes.  
All share not in this bliss, she hath the sense  
to curb by want the common insolence:  
Her beams are lasting such a heat is pure,  
for though her light be sparing, it is sure.    

My Resolution.  

REturn me not disdain, for if you do,  
By all those nimble Fairies wait on you  
I will indict you for a witch; and tell  
how you do hang on er'y hair a spell.  
Your brows are magic circles in each eye,  
where fools think Cupid's lodge, do spirits lie.  
That in unseen Flames issue forth and kill  
such, your hate pointeth out slaves to your will;  
That in the Dimples of your Cheeks we may,  
discern chained hearts, kept for your sport, who pay  
Each hour a death, yet die not; that your breath  
darts more infection than the spleen of Death.  
That twixt those two round hills (now to our view,)  
lie buried all those hearts your Anger slew.  
That slaughtered hearts you make your chiefest Fare,  
whose dying Groans speak music in your ear:  
That for your drink y''ave Lovers blood and tears  
distilled through the Limbeck of their fears.  
That when you kiss you traitor like betray,  
or with it some strong Philtre do convey.  
Yhat after once poor man hath seen your face,  
your Devils will not suffer him to raze  
It out on's memory; but 'twill appear,  
to terrify him, his Hell er'y where.  
That you can walk unseen and so torment,  
poor man he shall not have grace to repent.  
And if these accusations will not take  
with potent proofs, and you a Circe make,  
I must conclude for 'tis part of my fear,  
you have bewitched the Judge and charmed his ear:  
And if the jury find you not, Them too:  
yet I will stand it out with them and you,  
Then be advised and bribe me with a kiss,  
not of a Killing temper but of bliss.  
For which I'll change the scene and will acquaint  
the World, you are no Devil but my Saint.    

Ostella described.  

LEt others search for Metaphors to raise  
unto their Mistress pyramids of praise  
If mine deserve it, she in time may have it,  
in the mean time 'tis labour and 'i'll save it,  
Only without the help of Art as nature,  
hath ornamented her behold her Feature.  
Her hair is lovely brown, her Face is fair,  
Her eyes are black, her cheeks such colours wear.  
As Art may imitate, but not excel,  
her forehead high, composed passing well;  
Her nose of modest size, her mouth the like,  
her lips are full and red, the veins do strike;  
Into Meanders, down her Neck and Breast;  
her breast round, plump, and white; her skin the best  
That Nature ever blanched; her fingers small;  
Hand, long and white; of Person something Tall,  
Her waste of just proportion for a span,  
straight shaped; her feet (for there's the last I can  
Discover) slender, instep somewhat high:  
you have the full of my discovery.  
Each Painter thus may take her Outward part,  
But he must needs have skill, can take her Heart▪    

In the Morning: A FLAME.  

FRom the deep sense of hope and fear,  
Raised by the vigour of desire,  
which of itself's all fire,  
Blown by the issues of our grief,  
who break their Pison for relief,  
A flame is kindled in my breast,  
pure, as the Vestals e'er possessed,  
Whose mild heat receives welcome there.    

The Sacrifice.  

FRom the sweet hopes that do arise  
From a safe faith of joys to come  
in loves Elysium;  
From the chaste incense of each Thought  
Piled up, and into matter wrought,  
And from that Sense seems to Divine  
A glory to't by being thine.  
my heart's become a Sacrifice;  
And if thou be'st as just as fair,  
Smother it not, but give it air.    

To Ostella, an Advise before she send an Answer.  

LEt lose your reason first, and then  
exile those Enemies to love;  
Those flattering Thoughts, that in your Sex do reign,  
as Self-Conceit, Pride, and Disdain,  
Which do such desperate Tenets move,  
That you can live without us Men,  
So to yourselves you do injurious prove,  
A loss to Nature, heretics to Love.   

Let not your glass abet your will;  
for though it speak you fair,  
It bids you not to hope to raise a Fame  
out of the relics of a flame;  
Nor think your Beauty is not rare,  
Unless it hath the force to kill.  
So Tyrants lest their names forgot should be,  
Do some Grand Act to scare Posterity.    

Ostella smiling.  

Who would not think those Rising Beams  
So temperate were, that no extremes  
Attended Them to cloud our Day,  
and our Credulity betray,   

Who could be such a Slave to Fear,  
to think a Tempest could be near  
So Fair an Omen? Who'd not dare  
Danger itself, and Anchor there?   

Who would not think himself secure,  
and safety to himself assure,  
When such a mild and gentle Ray,  
doth smooth the wrinkles of the Day.  
But (oh) it takes the Lightnings form,  
and I'm betrayed into a Storm.    

To Ostella upon the pain of her toothache.  

Revengeful Love thy Cruelty to fit,  
in Throngs and Pangs did use his wit  
How he might hit some secret part,  
whose tenderness might add edge to his dart:  
and make the Grief far greater than the Smart.   

Knowing thy breast's of such Materials made,  
no Force could enter, though invade  
It might, in labour was his Brain;  
to bring't about, but finding 'twas in vain,  
he fret, and sweat himself into a pain.   

The which his Tenderness could not endure,  
and to his Mother sought for Cure;  
Who madly angered seemed to be,  
and cursed that Burning Torment into Thee,  
not half so bad as Those which flame in me.  
But I to Love will pray an ease for Thine.  
so by Thine own thou'lt learn to pity Mine.    

To Ostella upon the lamenting the death of her Sparrow.  

WHat from a thing so mean, could raise  
so much delight in thee,  
That for its loss so soon thy Rays:  
with storms should covered be?   

A Bird that wanted nature's lays,  
nor Beauty had, nor Worth.  
Whom Nature never meant for praise;  
but tongue-tied sent it forth.   

That 'tis a wonder strikes my heart,  
and seems my sense to mock,  
From whence it should achieve an Art  
to draw tears from a rock.   

But if the death of such a vain  
thing, so much troubles you.  
What for the heart your scorn hath slain  
ought you in soul to do?    

Upon the Sparrow.  

What time hath been tan● up for thee,  
in play and pleasure fine,  
When scarce a Glance could come to me  
so great a bliss was thine:   

When thou didst tipple at her lip,  
and swil'd in drink divine,  
My Thirsty Soul one Heavenly sip,  
her hate would not assign.   

Oft have I envied thy poor life,  
and could grasped forth thy Breath,  
And now my Genius is as rife  
to envy this thy Death.   

Since from the Treasure of her eye,  
such plenteous tears do fall;  
That should my soul in torment lie,  
none would be seen at all.   

But though in life and death I seem  
so much to envy thee,  
Yet art thou raised with more esteem,  
from Death to Life by me.    

A Summons to a siege.  

COme thou Paphian Engineer,  
since there is no human Art,  
can redeem my captived heart;  
Oh come and plant thy Canon here.   

In you citadel there is  
a Female wonder, that doth own  
a breast of flesh, but Heart of stone:  
Nay sure far more relentless 'tis.   

With my Heart here she thought fit;  
to retire secured 'gainst war;  
but I know thou'lt find it far  
More hard to Conquer her than it,   

What no human force could do,  
in the conquest of her breast,  
my hopes are with faith possessed,  
That, Love, thou mayest in time subdue.    

The Retreat.  

REtreat, Retreat, do you not see  
as fast as you Granadoes throw;  
she quencheth them in Pits of snow.  
Entrenched about with Ivory.   

And when you Vndermine, you are,  
by cunning Countermining crossed,  
and all your Pioneers are lost  
Nay, all your Treaties are but Air.   

Your Cannons do no terror sound;  
for she with Penetrateles strength  
Repels them: then Retreat at length  
Ere your own Weapons give you wound.    

Ostella's kiss.  

WHen you Ostella graced me with a kiss,  
it was conceived, it could not wound my bliss  
Or discompose the quiet I possessed,  
E'er Love usurped the freedom of my breast.  
But this I find, such bliss, such Torment too,  
I ne'er had felt, had I not fancied you.   

That welcomed kiss shot fire through every part,  
till it had seized the Chamber of my Heart;  
And there surprised the Virgin of Content  
that ne'er knew Love before or Detriment▪  
The Bee so loves her Sting, yet doth not know,  
mistaking thus where she hath hurt or no.   

Then when with sighs and tears I strive to kill,  
the raging heat, they but augment my ill.  
The more I breath, the more the Flames aspire  
Love turns my heart to oil to Feed the fire;  
And when to you my Griefs I would impart,  
Fear ties my Tongue, and Love enthralls my Heart.   

Licence my love Ostella then, and give  
A Cure to that, else must not hope to live,  
Nor glory in this conquered heart of mine,  
Pity will make your Beauty more Divine.  
Soften your Heart like mine that dotes on you,  
or teach me how to make mine Marble too.    

Returning to my Chamber at night to the Taper.  

HEnce Feeble light, I will not have thee burn  
near me, go and attend some needy urn,  
Until' its Damp undo thee I retain  
a stronger Flame in my Ostella's name;  
Which Fate cannot expire, not yet the Breath  
of Furies which hate Light, nor envious Death.  
It is a virtuous flame, and shall aspire  
to Heaven, when the whole world speaks but One Fire.  
Wilt not henceh Hw officious dost thou grow,  
I've known the time Thou wouldst not serve me so,  
Ere this time of thyself thou hast gone out,  
when I did need Thee most, thou wentest about  
To help me least, go weep thyself away,  
I want thee not, 'tis madness to burn day:  
This service is not welcome, then begone:  
there are more ways to wast thyself upon  
Than by thy tedious waiting, and pretence  
of service, to become a mere offence:  
It were more Charity to watch the Dead,  
the thought of Love shall light my Soul to Bed.    

To Love.  

IT is no marvel, Love thou liv'st so long,  
and though exactly Old, art perfect Young;  
To all men's sense thou hadst consu●'d and died,  
had not our kinder heat thy want supplied.  
Thou dost extract thy Comfort from our Hearts;  
our Feebleness thy Nutriment imparts:  
Thou suck'st us dry, and leavest us ne'er a Vein  
Unsearched, that may thy Youth and Pride maintain  
At their luxurious height, In that poor we  
are tortured several ways to nourish Thee:  
And yet thou (cruel) ne'er art satisfied,  
but to support thine doth our States divide.  
By weak'ning us, thou dost renew thy strength;  
by shortening of our lives thine receive length.  
Thou tak'st thy Beauty from our Cheeks; thy Youth  
from ours; and thy Decrees are from our Truth  
Originally framed; though young, art sage,  
and Thou deriv'st thy Youth from others Age.  
Sure thou extract'st the very Quinte sense  
of Life from Hearts, for Mine left me long since.  
After this rate Thou mayst for ever live,  
since Our decay's Thy Preservative.    

To Ostella's Brother.  

IT is not now, as when my Soul was free,  
and could contract my time to Mirth and Thee;  
Meet the loved Sack with lips as resolute,  
as Merchants in the heat of their pursuit,  
Ofth' Virtue on't, when our exacter taste  
to make their Wits secure, Our own did wast;  
When our Succeeding Cups, did music send  
through either's ear, in health to either's friend:  
When, our Comptrolless, Mirth her Voice did fit,  
and laughed even melancholy out on's Wit;  
When every Brow was clear, and every Heart  
Unthralled, showed friendship's Concord without Art:  
Then was the time of times! But now (alas)  
I have not so much Heart will break a glass  
My Soul is out of tune as well as I,  
I'm a mere Eunuch to Society;  
Fly all things but my Passion, and do stalk  
along the Thames sides melancholy walk,  
As though I meant a Wedding with the Willows,  
bidding adieu to Sack, Mirth, and Boon-fellows.  
This was thy fault then blame thyself not me:  
had I ne'er seen thy Sister, I had been I.  
This is a metamorphosy, as true,  
as Ovid ere in's strength of Fancy drew.    

Ostella visiting me in time of sickness.  

Blessed be that Tongue that whispered in your Ear,  
my sickness: Heaven did surely send you here,  
Upon some angel's Wing to give repose  
to my Distracted Thoughts, this pity shows  
You are allied to Heaven, I was but now,  
cold as the Morning Air, or death's chill Brow:  
And now a soft Heat steals through every Vein,  
and warms my Heart, thus you revive the Slain,  
The Dark Cimmerian that hath sealed his eyes  
up in continual sleep, would rouse and rise  
To bless this happy Omen, so from far  
the Kings rejoiced when as the Eastern Star  
Appeared to them; like Comfort You do bring:  
for when good Works are done Angels do sing.    

My Scorn to Cupid, or Cupid ungodded.  

A God some juggling Gypsies Brat  
that silly People wonder at,  
Whose faiths thou hast abused with lies,  
And fortune-telling fopperies▪  
No more assume the title God  
that fitter art to have the Rod:  
But use thy Quiver and thy Bow,  
to kill jackdaws, or fright the Crow,  
Nor boast thy Parentage or Power  
th''ve lost thy Godhead in one hour.  
Henceforth in scorn thy Figure shall,  
be placed on every potter's Stall.  
Or on the Tester of some Bed;  
thy Altar be some Cup-boards head,  
No fumes of Sacrifice shall rise,  
less from the Mists of children's eyes;  
When in their Play they ruin Thee,  
and thou the Sacrificed be.  
No, No, thou shalt abuse no more  
our Faiths, with thy huge Deeds of Yore,  
Fame lies to prate so much of thee,  
Couldst thou so great a conqueror be,  
O'er Gods themselves, and now want'st wit,  
sufficient Power, and Strength to hit  
A Heart of Flesh, and not of Flint?  
odd's death, I think the devils in't.    

love's melancholy.  

I Live in th'World, but how? in such deep Woe,  
as though I were not made' its joys to know:  
I eat, yet feed not; from the choicest food,  
I can't extract that goodness doth me good.  
I drink, and often, still my Sorrow's dry,  
and to chase sadness keep much company.  
Them I disturb; for when their Mirth flies high,  
Damned with a fit I break Society.  
Retired unto my Chamber, I converse  
with some known Author either Prose or verse;  
In my Survey, if any joys I find,  
Conferred on any, I am strucken Blind;  
If any man's hard Fate be quaintly shown,  
I straight Compare his Torments with mine own;  
And finding mine exceed, leave off to Read,  
the Weight of Sorrow, bears me to my Bed:  
There if I sleep my troubled Soul doth Walk,  
and just as madmen use, to' its self doth talk.  
Awake, my Fancy wanders too and fro,  
as though I knew not where to rest or go.  
In such distracted Passions I am thrown,  
I'm neither well in public nor alone:  
I'm young and apt for Pleasure single too,  
Objects enough that may my fancy woo,  
And yet not Helen's Beauty can delight  
my eye or raise in me an appetite:  
Nor is this Miracle I do impart,  
And yet I breath, live, move, without a heart.    

Ostella's Scorn.  

HAd I not loved thee Cruel fair,  
thou hadst not prized thyself so high:  
And thou hadst missed the title Rare,  
Hadst not received it from My eye.   

The Flames that from my Heart did rise,  
wrought by the fuel of Desire,  
To seek the Glory of thy eyes  
hath raised in others breasts a fire.   

And I that first did blaze thy Name;  
that long before Obscured lay,  
Am left Consuming in my Flame  
whilst others pity find their Pay.   

Thus by my Love, thou wert made Great,  
and by thy Pride my Hearts cast down▪  
Ingratitude is the worst Cheat,  
and Prides more infamous than Clown.  
But oh fond Love, thou didst my Pen subborn  
to make her Proud, now Pride doth make her Scorn.    

To Ostella.  

Wouldst thou live, and have thy Name,  
stand glorious in the eyes of Men,  
And fixed above the common aim,  
make thy Sex Emulate thy Fame.   

And treasured up in Story be  
an everliving Fame to them?  
Or wouldst thou to example thee,  
raise Flames in all Posterity?   

Then let thy Lenity re●seat  
My Heart, late captived by thy power;  
Raise it, to make thy own more Great:  
they best can save that can Defeat.  
So Caesar's setting up of Pompey's Name,  
Made his own stand secure with brighter Fame.    

A Tempest.  

HElp Love, or else I sink; (for know,  
he best can help that causeth Woe.)  
Help 〈◊〉, and with thy smother Palm,  
the fury of my Passion Calm▪  
Succeeding tears in Billows rise,  
as there were Seas met in my eyes,  
My Sighs united, proudly groan,  
as the four Winds combined in one.  
Hark how they roar! my Sighs and Tears  
sure have conspired to tempt my fears.  
See how they swell! now they are met,  
and even a Tempest do beget:  
It shakes my Bark, her Ribs do Crack,  
and now my hopes expect a Wreck.  
Help Love for Pity, than I pray,  
cre my poor Heart be cast away.    

To Death.  

THou Grand physician to a troubled breast,  
thou that both killest, and curest, in one expressed  
Thou terror and thou Comforter no less  
Than Messenger of Hell and happiness;  
Thou conqueror of frai●Humanity,  
who yet t'imprisoned Souls giv'st liberty.  
Why come not I within the benefit,  
of thy Decree? thy lingering doth beget  
My jealousy: say, for my life to me  
is hatefuller than thy Grim shape can be.  
In every Street Mottality appears,  
and yet I live though drowned in my Tears:  
Kill me, and make me happy in my Death,  
that living draw but discontented Breath.  
I thus invoked in Wrath, He made Reply  
Lovers were made for Torment not to Die.    

A Bird presented to Ostella.  

FAir Bird thou art designed to be  
a Messenger from Love and me,  
An Embassy though not so high  
as that which from the Ark did fly  
Yet such as Nice Divines admit  
and Loves Religion Warrants it.  
Go, and those sadder Notes of thine  
which so improved by Discord mine,  
Unto the sovereign of my Heart  
Peal forth in a confused A●t,  
Sing out my sigh, chatter my Groans:  
imperfect speech best breaks our Moans.  
Strike all Hearts sad that hers may know  
How much of pity she doth owe  
To mine: pursue her day, by day,  
Let her not eat nor drink nor pray  
Till for her own safe ease and rest,  
her bosom does become thy Nest,  
Where if thou'rt Martyred by her eyes,  
Thou shalt from thence a phoenix rise.    

Imagination.  

HOw pleasingly doth thy Deceit  
insinuate into our Sense,  
Where having taken up a Seat,  
what 'tis we wish thou stealest from thence,  
And to thyself thou formest the Shape  
which represented to the Mind,  
Doth on its Peace Commit a Rape,  
leaving our Fancy unconfined:  
That time that for our Rest is lent  
Employed our thoughts awake to keep,  
Is prized to be the sweetest spent,  
although it doth exile our Sleep:  
What Numerous Joys dost thou beget  
to flatter each inclining thought,  
As seem t'exceed the Appetite,  
whose subtlety the Wonder wrought!  
But (oh) the falseness of thy Charms,  
that such bewitching joys prepare,  
That when we think theyare in our Arms,  
Ixion like, we grasp the Air.    

Ostella saying she pitied me, but could not help me.  

Pity without Relief is just  
one on a sleeveless Errand sent:  
That wanting what should Shape his trust  
returns more simple than he went.  
For, Naked pity brings but Cold  
and heartless Comfort on his back,  
It only guilds the grief is told  
and make us worse in what we lack.  
Compassion bears a Sense with it,  
as though it felt th' afflictedest Grief,  
Loves Messenger it's termed fit,  
It never comes without relief.  
But th'Pitty that proceeds from you,  
adorns my Temples and my Eyes  
With Wreaths of Roses mixed with Rue,  
Decked only up for Sacrifice,  
And in the sweetness of that breath  
You do but music forth my Death.    

Reason.  

REason and I long time known friends,  
in all things did comply,  
Till suddenly for unknown ends  
It shuned my company:   

And whatsoever I said or did,  
It still did fly the Sense,  
As though some Sophistry lay hid,  
Or error came from thence.   

At last admiring at the Cause  
of its so strange Neglect,  
I conjured it by its own Laws,  
to yield me more respect:   

And to resolve me speedily why We at difference were,  
Since first a solemn League did tie us, to a Sense more fair,  
Knowing I was in Love, it answered me, Reason and Madmen never could agree.    

Ostella saying, she would not say she did, could, nor would not Love me.  

I'm wrapped in such a Mist, Reasons clear light  
can't lead me through lost betwixr; Day and Night:  
▪ Twixt Doubt and Joy my faculties do rise,  
and War with in me, and my sense despise,  
One while I'm lifted to the Throne of bliss,  
straight Ponierd by my Fears and struck to th' Abiss.  
Now I am sinking, now, I Tryton like  
ride on the Neck of Danger and do strike  
With my strong hopes my fears into the Main;  
now I'm a Prince, and now a Slave again.  
And thus my fainting joy twixt hope and fear,  
doth Ebb, and Flow▪ now winged, now clogged, in th' Air,  
Mocked with the shadow of thy Love, which I  
seeking to catch at, my pursuit doth fly.  
Why didst not say, thou didst not, nor couldst Love me?  
but those are spoken plain enough to move me:  
Yet why that nimble close then? though thou couldst not  
to sweeten it thou wouldst not say thou wouldst not?  
If thou nor dost, nor canst▪ what hope can I  
assume thou ever wilt? oh Destiny!  
So flattering Oracles did tell Mens fate  
and yet in th' mystery concealed their ha●e,    

To Ostella my Choice.  

I Would not Wed the Creature that desires  
to know the secrets of the Marriage Bed,  
And to repel the fury of her fires,  
forsooth in all haste must be Married.   

Nor she who by her parent's Cruelty  
is made to loathe herself, and cares not how  
She is bestowed to Joy or Misery,  
Ne'er minding Love nor marriage strict vow.   

Nor she that hath to any been a Stale,  
and now with frantic Resolution swears,  
The next that comes to Court her shall prevail:  
Oh such a Piece would lug Love by the Ears.   

Nor she that would be Wed to be made fine,  
thinking Content should her Attendant be,  
Believing not to want what e'er was mine:  
faith such a Piece doth love her self not me.   

Nor your half, Matron of some thirty five,  
whose in good law, and good-sooths have worn out  
Her lips and teeth, whose Heart is but a sieve,  
as fast as Love creeps in, it goeth out.   

Nor the Green-piece that weds for the Ring sake,  
and other pretty things belonging to't  
That man that hath her must her Babies make,  
and have a sool and thousand Plagues to boot,   

Nor yet the serious Soul that doth employ  
her whole day at her Work, or pries into  
The cook's affairs, in her there is small joy:  
she'll Love me when sh'as nothing else to do.   

Now, some will say I can't find such a one  
that are from one or all these follies free  
To such I answer, that they are unknown  
unto thy Worth and ignorant of Thee.    

Ostella Confessing She loved Me.  

A blessed confession, for which expect  
(though you have justly merited Neglect  
From Love and me,) an Absolution for  
all your past ills against us, since that War  
Brought on this happy Peace, This Truce doth give  
me more than hope, assurance I shall live▪  
Nay live to joy in You the only sum  
of all my hopes, from whence my bliss must come.  
The Gods will recompense you for this Deed,  
And amplify your Glory in your Seed;  
But I admire you hold me in suspense  
so long▪ knowing my love's pure innocence;  
That though with Love I seemed to be all fire,  
yet was a Stoic to impure desire;  
But I have found the Reason, and you know it,  
The clearness of this Truth doth plainly show it,  
" The longer growth Diseases do endure,  
" The more the Grief, more famous is the Cure  
So from your patient's torture you would raise  
an honour, and by Curing him, a praise.  
And by that weakness I'm more hearty grown  
Than if my Strength had never weakness known.  
'Twas pretty Policy which I commend,  
that Sorrow's sweetened that doth find an End▪  
Your Answers pli'de me as you'd beat back fire  
not to suppress the Flame, but raise it higher.    

Ostella as king why: I loved she  

NOt because thy face is fair,  
though the Colours be thine own,  
and their parallel unknown:  
Nor for all thy All that's rare,  
Which perhaps others may prize  
Less, than IIdolatrize.   

Nor for that thou'rt perfect good,  
which few of your Sex can claim  
as a title to their Name;  
Or a sweetness to their blood.  
This to others to may seem  
Not so great as I esteem.   

No, nor for thy love to me,  
though it strongly may persuade,  
and my Manhood much invade.  
In this none can judge of thee  
But myself, to which i'll swear,  
Never Turtle loved more dear.   

Yet I love thee and pray why?  
in Obedience to my Fate,  
I should love though thou didst hate:  
Yet I would not have thee try.  
This woman's Reason I'll give you  
troth I love you cause I do,    

The Nut to Ostella.  

THou hast my Heart and I have thine  
a blessed Exchange is this!  
They seem to part, yet ne'er disjoin.  
and when they meet they kiss.   

Though they in several Beds do lie  
two Rooms do not them severe,  
So that they may with safety fly  
and mingle bliss together.   

My Heart breathes freshness on thy Rose  
that else would droop and wither  
My breast had wanted its repose  
had not thy Heart come hither.   

Replanted Plants do prosper so,  
in other Soils far better  
Than in the fi●st, and 〈◊〉 do show  
to'th Gods we're 〈◊〉 a Debtor.   

Oh may my Heart so thrive with thee  
and thine with me so dwell,  
That they may knit and 〈◊〉 to be  
two Kirnels in one shell.    

To Ostella.  

I Sent my Heart even as my Child to thee,  
to be brought up, as thine shall be with me:  
Be careful osed as th' Apple of thy eye,  
so shall I be of thine, or may I die,  
Let mine not sorrow, I shall comfort thine;  
in this we prove our Amity Divine.  
But if mine droops, thine holds not up the head;  
as mine doth fare, thine shall be cherished.  
Mine's of a softly Nature, and may be  
wound like a twig, even any way by thee.  
But thine more stubborn was, until in tears  
I bathed it supple, even with Cares and Fears:  
It would not stoop: But Heaven to Crown the end  
of my sad toil, at last, did make it bend.  
And now it proves a greater joy to me,  
than did mine own before it came to thee.    

The FACTION. To OSTELLA.  

BEauty glorious as the Light  
that unveils the face of Day;  
Think it is her proper Right,  
that all Hearts should her obey:  
And in Competition stands  
with All▪ Conquering Love, who try  
By either's power which most Commands,  
and best deserves the deity.  
love's inviting oily words  
on his party many gain.  
beauty's beams wound worse than swords,  
strongly do her side maintain.  
either's strength 'ginning to waste  
Straight they unto Reason fly,  
Who well seasoned bids them taste  
of this sharp Antipathy,  
Love not linked to beauty's Rays  
is Majesty in disguise  
And loseth its reverent praise  
'cause 'tis clouded from our eyes;  
Beauty without Love declines  
as the Heart that wanteth heat,  
Or the flower that droops and pines,  
when the Sun should it replete:  
And so wisely did Decree  
Love and Beauty should agree;  
And lest the Union should undo,  
sends them to reside with you.    

Ostella asking me how I liked a painted Lady came to see her.  

Why I will tell thee: Is that face her own,  
she makes so much on't, or takesed up on Loan?  
I promise if it be so, she doth deserve  
to have it lent again, she doth preserve  
It with such care, but this is jest. I know  
she is a painted cloth, a Puppet show;  
I must confess when she unveiled, I stood  
in such amazement as though made of Wood:  
Perhaps she did conceive as much, just so  
when Persius did uncase unto his foe  
Medusa's head, they were transformed as I  
beholding her strange metamorphosy.  
I'm sure my Heart was Marble; I forgot  
all civil manners, and saluted not:  
I might have prejudiced her, if I had,  
Kissed off her colours, than she had been mad:  
And I did owe such dear regard to thee,  
because she was thy friend so Wise to be.  
she was thy foil, O stella, for, when I,  
Compared with hers thy Native Livery,  
Finding hers false, and she to Art was more,  
beholding, than Nature for that poor  
Decaying Pride, which the least Air doth vade,  
I blessed my fortune that by thee was made:  
'Twere Sin to doubt her inside cause, with thee  
she doth converse the Soul of Piety.  
Yet be she what she will, this joys my Heart,  
Thou art the Pride of Nature not of Art.    

Upon my assurance of OSTELLA's Love.  

ANd dost thou Love indeed, in very deed,  
Ostella? prithee speak, and yet take heed:  
'Tis requisite my Question be denied,  
lest I do surfeit e'er I'm satisfied:  
So from that sweet receive my ban▪ and be  
as slow in thanks for Love as Cruelty.  
Yet be not Cruel neither, 'tis not just  
thou shouldst be so, and worse I should mistrust  
Thy spotless Faith: I would not have thee hate,  
nor would I have thy Love become my Fate;  
For the excess of each may dangerous prove,  
and seeking to preserve, may ruin Love.  
Lightning is swift, as soon it doth retire;  
let our flames softly burn, and not expire,  
By whose kind heat our hearts may warm, not burn:  
there's safety in't, we may out, last our Urn.  
Tell me, dost Love? Yet do not tell me so:  
and yet I know thou dost; for on thy Brow  
I read it, 't can't be hid by all the skill  
thy Art can purchase; Yet delight thy will  
As I shall mine. Answer me then, and prove  
by Paradox, thou dost not, yet dost Love.    

Ostella veiled.  

OStella, thou dost injure me  
by this Veil of Modesty.  
Thou the Sun of my Delight  
thus obscured, I am in night,  
I would not show thee sweet to sell  
but to be admired is well;  
For from thee by others praise  
I to myself a trophy raise,  
'Tis my Pride the World should be  
in Love with thee, as thou with me:  
Which adds a glory to my Fate;  
that they for thee me Emulate.  
Open thy Beauty to the Day  
give thy Cupids leave to Prey;  
Inflame all Hearts, make the World thine,  
I have the glory thou art mine.    

Ostella showing me Verses sent to her by a friend of mine.  

VErses to thee! is he so Love-some grown  
just on a sudden, are the lines his own?  
Or doth he Court by Proxy, and hath paid  
dear for his wit to one whose need hath made  
Him a pro●st Poet, that he should be  
guilty of Wit, Condemns himself and me.  
Miracles may chance to walk, and light on him  
he's empty enough, and may receive to th'brim.  
But yet why should I doubt this, since thy eye  
can make a Spark a Flame in Poetry,  
And were not I as confident of Thee  
as Saints of Heaven are, a jealousy  
Would work into my Faculties, thy Love  
might leave my sphere, and in another's move.  
Women are charmed, when praises do persuade,  
for then harmonious spells their Ears invade.    

Ostella advising me to leave off drink drinking Wine.  

HOw dearest! art thou weary of thy Fame,  
that thou wouldst banish that preserves the same?  
When I would write on th' Vigour of thy eye,  
a sprightly glass of Sack I've standing by,  
From whence my Pen takes life and speed; that Smile  
of thine, thou ow'st to Sack for my fair Guile,  
That lively Colour of thy Cheek and Lip,  
from the rich Claret did my fancy sip,  
And from the mantling sparks which thence arise  
I metaphored the Cupids in thy eyes.  
From the loved Grape I can create Conceit,  
enough to raise Dejection to the Seat  
Of Honour, 'tis the Nepenthean Spring  
about the which the jolly Muses sing  
Thy praises from my Verse. Oh let me lack  
all things else useful, so thou'lt give me Sack.  
Thou Mayest as well go bid me leave to live,  
as have me leave the means which life doth give:  
Faith leave my Wine, and farewell Poetry,  
forgetting which none will remember Thee.    

To one asking how he should know my Mistress.  

THou Mayest know her by her dress  
both of body and of mind;  
Where so many Graces press  
as just Heaven had assigned  
her the Glory of her Kind.   

Thou Mayest know her by the flame  
which proceedeth from her eye.  
But (oh) who can see the same  
who can see it and not die:  
'tis so full of Majesty.   

Thou Mayest know her by her Balm,  
the blessed issue of her breath,  
Which in Passion is so calm,  
it gives life instead of Death:  
such a virtual power it hath.   

Thou Mayest know her by a Heart  
full of Love and Constancy;  
More of pity then of Art.  
but all this thou canst not see,  
‛ Less my Fate did govern there.    

My Vow to Ostella upon her doubting my faith.  

Believe me Love by those fair eyes,  
that bless the World with Light,  
and to the blind give sight;  
By this chaste kiss, this precious breath  
That rescued my poor heart from Death,  
It still remains thy conquered prize.   

By virtue's self enthroned in thee:  
for other Beauties wear  
but th'bare figure of what's rare.  
No thoughts of change disturb my Rest,  
Whose heats consume not, warm the breast;  
there's no Content like Constancy.   

But shouldst thou not continue mine,  
as firm as when I first  
Love in my Bosom nursed?  
I should the Bastard banish thence,  
(Though yet the Child of Innocence,)  
and prove him human, not Divine.   

Did not thy fires preserve my flame,  
it should dispersing fly  
in Sparks at every eye,  
With Wanton Liberty should range,  
And every minute covet change,  
Till it dissolved Loves hallowed frame.   

But till thy Fancy change thy Mind,  
(if I without offence  
may doubt such Innocence,)  
My Love shall be so purely free  
From loose thoughts of disloyalty,  
it shall teach Turtles to be kind.    

Upon an occasion; to Ostella, Of jealousy.  

THe Day that's lost et'e scarcely shown,  
might rule Eternally.  
Did not th'Prerogative of Night  
insinuate a Sovereignty.   

The Spring and Summer cropped e'er blown  
with all their gaudy Train,  
Might ever season our delight,  
did not intruding Winter Reign.   

The Sea whose often shipwrecks strike  
a fear into the adventurers mind  
Would safely harbour did no Storm  
engage its nature to the wind.   

All things in goodness would be like  
did not the ills their difference show  
Beauty in freedom as in form,  
and nature no decaying know.   

Youth dwell for ever on our Cheeks▪  
did not the Iron hand of Age  
Imprint a ruin, or Disease  
invade our healths, and life engage.   

Man might possess as soon as seek  
the Pleasures that do so entice,  
But his own Nature doth displease,  
else Earth had been a Paradise.   

So had not cruel Love crept in,  
my Heart had been from Passion free,  
And my Content had been mine own,  
Not slaved to sottish jealousy.   

But Love hath raised such Wars within,  
they do disturb my peaceful pores,  
And tyrantlike (alas) have thrown  
my Rest and Quiet out of Doors.    

Ostella forth of Town: To my Heart.  

HEart be Content, though she be gone,  
let Reason govern thee:  
Thou hast so much of Pleasure known,  
'tis fit a seasoned Misery  
should temper thy Prosperity.   

Absence doth whet the Appetite,  
which Presence dulled before,  
There is no Pleasure truly great,  
nor sweet of such effectual power,  
Till seasoned with a little sour.   

He cannot truly prize Delight,  
that ne'er knew Misery;  
Nor deem the glory of the Light,  
untili by wanting it, he be  
sensible of its purity,   

Think this the time of thy lost health  
which when restored to thee,  
Even from the ruin of thy Wealth  
it brings a perfect Remedy,  
to double thy Felicity.    

To the worst of Passions:  

THou that destroiest our Peace, giv'st Liberty  
to fury, ruin; Thou, grand Enemy  
To man; Thou, whose unlimited pretence  
deposeth Reason, and confounds our sense.  
Thou, whose tyrannic Cruelty extends  
to th' separation of long linked friends.  
Thou, that art all irregularity,  
rash, inconsiderate, madly bold and free,  
A foe to goodness, Author of our ill.  
thou, that art Wisdoms inconsistent still.  
Thou, who can boast thou ne'er wert overcome,  
and slau'dst so many gallant Hearts at Rome.  
Thou, that didst vanquish Caesar, know I'll prove  
greater than He, and Conquer Thee with Love.    

The jealous Lovers, A Dialogue.  Thirsis. 

SAy, Daphne's say, for I desire to know  
The cause from whence these sad effects do grow▪  
Art thou in Love?   Dap. 
O yes.  Thirsis. 
With whom? confess.  Daph. 
With my Murderess.  Thir. 

Love baits on easy hearts; is thine so tame  
To hug thy ruin, and appear his Game?  
Who is the Shepherdess?   Dap▪ 

Dost ask her name?  
Have not the Winds whispered her beauty's fame  
Through every Ear? dost not observe each Tree  
Wears on its breast her name? My misery.   Thir. 
Did she e'er love thee,  Daphne's. 
say,  Daph. 
She did,  Thir. 
Are those flames now extinguished, or but hid?  Daph. 

Extinguished as my jealousy, which made  
Her leave this walk, which now appears a shade,  
Wanting her Beams to warm it, and my Heart  
Cold as the death's Dart.   Thir. 
Didst thou abuse her Love?  Daph. 

I cannot tell,  
Unless it were by loving too too well,  
Excessive Love, and her exceeding Grace  
Supplanted Reason, and gave Passion place.   Thir. 
Such was my fate.  Daph▪ 
Too cruel mine.  Thir. 

It may be so.  
But there is no example of my Woe.   Chorus. 

Since we derive our heat both from one fire▪  
let thy Heart mix with mine▪ and so Expire,  
That to her Glory from us may arise,  
in one pure flame a double Sacrifice.    

To my Thoughts.  

When fortune flatters you, believe her not,  
she then upon your safety hath a plot;  
And if she threaten, be the same you are,  
and seem the fullness of her spleen to dare.  
Though all the World should in division be  
For empty glories, golden Slavery,  
Be you united; let not their disease  
Poison the sweet Contentment of your Peace.  
For while you keep together, and be true  
unto yourselves, the World can't Conquer you.  
In this y'exceed the happiness of Kings  
Armed still against the Tide, and change of things.  
That neither hopes of Honour can dissolve,  
nor Misery with sad despair involve.  
Thus be yourselves, and tread upon the Neck  
of Danger, and despise Dame fortune's beck.  
Let her to you be held but Air, or Name,  
not worthy to deserve from you a Fame.  
" None is so worthy to be envied at,  
as such as whose content is wondered at▪  
So in th' midst of th' world's strife and debate  
your cheerfulness doth soar above your Hate.    

To joy.  

UNconstant as a smile, uncertain as  
beauty, or life, or a reflecting Glass.  
Shorter than the day's glory, that brings on  
a tedious win ters night t'exact upon  
The virtue of our Patience; Or the tears  
of widows, which but serve to drown their fears.  
Oh had I not acquainted been with thee,  
I'd been insensible of misery,  
And comforted myself in my first State,  
with th' thought that all men suffered the like Fate▪  
Better 't had been still to have lived in Woe,  
than once thy happiness and sweets to know:  
He that ne'er tasted of Delicious fare,  
thinks his own Cates the best and primest ware;  
His Water is his Wine, which he doth drink  
with greater Pleasure from the fountains brink,  
Than e'er the Epicurean Roman found,  
when in variety he did abound.  
Such unto whom Nature denies a sight  
can make no difference betwixt dark and light,  
But to have known the day, and suddenly,  
by some sad accident deprived be  
Of th' virtue of th' splendour, he inward finds  
a greater Torture than whom Nature blinds.  
So hadst thou not apted my Heart for thee,  
I had not found how great thy want would be.  
Unkind in thy departure, th' amorous Wind  
though swift in course, doth leave a Sweet behind  
On its loved flowers, but thou in taking leave  
giv'st us a kiss, as meaning to deceive,  
Yielding us up into the hands of Grief,  
whence there is scarce redemption or relief.  
Yet while thou'rt with us, thou dost act thy part  
with such delightful and reviving Art,  
That dead Hearts are stirred up to life by thee,  
but violent things do seldom last we see:  
Thou art but here to day, and gone tomorrow▪  
the Scene is past, now enter Tyrant Sorrow▪    

Ostella's Welcome to Town▪  

Welcome Ostella with thy Beams more bright,  
Than those that brought the Chaos, form, and Light:  
Welcome, as is a timely seasoned Spring,  
And the kind tokens it with it doth bring:  
Welcome, as are the Seasons of the Year  
Unto the earth, or News unto the Ear  
Of him that hath long time lain doomed to die;  
A pardons brought for his Delivery:  
Welcome, as health to the afflicted Sense,  
Or wealth in its intended innocence:  
Welcome, as Ransoms to poor Captives are,  
Or as deliverance to the Mariner:  
Welcome, as peace to a Distracted State,  
On which a tedious War hath quartered hate:  
Welcome, as is the end to all my fears,  
And welcome, as the music of the spheres  
To a departing Soul, or Angels sing  
A Message to't, which heavenly Comfort bring:  
Welcome my Dearest unto me, as joy  
To the sad Heart, whom Love sought to destroy:  
Welcome, as is loves best fruition to  
The longing Souls of them did long time Woo.  
Welcome, as is my fancy to my Pen,  
When it is rich, and fit for fight of men:  
Welcome, as is restored Roses to  
The Checks, the hand of sickness would undo:  
Welcome, to me thou Sum of earthly good:  
Welcome, as honour to deserving blood:  
Welcome, as Conquest to the valiant mind:  
Welcome, as Restauration to the blind:  
Welcome, to me as is that holy fire  
Into the Vestals breasts Heaven doth inspire:  
Welcome, as is their bliss, when they resign  
Their Clay to earth, and do become Divine:  
Welcome, as is Divine untainted Love,  
And welcome, as a blessing from above.    

A Dialogue between Love and Honour.  Honour. 

WHy fliest thou me, I never knew,  
Honour was shunned before.   Love. 

I've heard that none but Madmen do  
thy slippery State adore.   Honour. 

The Gods from such they hate, conceal  
the virtue of my Name,  
To such they Love, they do reveal  
the glory of my Flame.   Love. 

But I have known in climbing up  
to reach thy Starry Crown,  
That who was raised to the top,  
was suddenly cast down.   Honour. 

Those had no reverence to me,  
but fortune's Wealth made great,  
And they being as blind as she,  
did tumble from their Seat.   

They did but at my Title aim,  
of me were ne'er possessed,  
And only wore me in their Name,  
and not within their breast.   

My way unto the Stars doth lead,  
where Gods do keep their Court,  
Where no unhallowed foot must tread,  
there Virtuous souls resort.   Love. 

The Virtuous, who are they frail Man?  
Conceius the prosperous so?  
The Miserable needs must then  
have nought with it to do.   Honour. 

The Captive that in Dungeon lies,  
if he but virtue own,  
When all the world doth him despise  
I'll raise him to a Throne.   Love. 

Then Honour thou, I feared thee much  
I now from it am free,   Honour. 

And Love thy purity is such,  
I needs must honour thee.   

For we are both allied to Heaven,  
and from the Gods receive  
Those special Glories that are given  
us, to Desert to give.   Chorus. 

Then let us join and Crown Ostella's name,  
whose Virtue doth excel the voice of Fame▪  
That in her choice she may so happy prove,  
Heaven may applaud her Merit, and his Love.    

Ostella weeping for my Imprisonment.  

WAst not those precious tears for me,  
Since Jnnocence cannot be free▪  
They sin that live at Liberty.   

I boast a freedom more Immense  
Than he that is in every Sense  
A prisoner to his Conscience▪   

Weep not Ostella; for I'm sure  
Whilst thou this Passion dost endure,  
Thou rather helpest to kill than cure.   

Should they eclipse my eyes the sight  
Of Day, and shut me up in Night.  
Those eyes must then afford me Light.   

Should the chill Earth appointed be  
My Bed. Content should Cover me;  
And I would laugh at Misery.   

For how can I be dispossessed  
Of weet Repose, when in thy breast  
My Heart securely takes its Rest.   

The ruined Walls would seem to me  
Rich as the Tyrian-Tapistry,  
So they deprive me not of thee.   

Should I with Bread and Water dine,  
To make the Miracle Divine,  
Thy Lips would change the last to Wine.   

Know then Ostella, I am free  
In every part, enjoying thee,  
The only Soul of Liberty.    

Ostella questioning of me concerning Clarinda, a former Mistress.  

'tWere sin to lie, Ostella, and to thee  
the greatest piece of wilful Treachery  
That wickedness can gloze: That she whom You  
do stile Clarinda, I did own is true.  
So may the Babe suck Venom from the tit;  
and so the Dew may blast the Violet.  
Such was my Innocence abused by her:  
the Wisest in their Loves do soonest err.  
But I, that hardly could judge black from white,  
mistook my Day, and wrapped myself in Night.  
The little Bees, unskilled, so may in flight,  
mistake the Rose, and suck the Aconite:  
She Courted me with such destroying tears  
as th' Crocodile, or the cursed Hinbane wears;  
And like the Spider, weave a curious Net  
of her entici●ng Hair my Heart to get;  
A Bird of paradise was thought to be,  
but she a Bird of Rapine proved to me.  
In th' Summer of my Fortunes she did sing  
much like the Swallow; but the winter's sting  
Poisoning my Hopes; she, like the liquorish Fly,  
follows the next Sweet 'til sh' as sucked it dry.  
The Morning dew so leaves the Violet,  
when the sun's prouder Beams exhaleth it:  
And this decreed Truth I've bought with smart,  
that there's most danger where appears most Art.  
These were my Childish Errors, for which I  
have oft distilled my Sorrow from my eye  
The blind Man so in darkness walks, and yet  
discerning not his want, ne'er questions it:  
But You have formed me new, and given a sight  
to my dark Judgement, I know now the Light:  
And I will prize it Dearest as my Soul,  
Which thou hast partly cleansed, once sadly foul.  
As by the sun's infusive heat, the Earth  
receives the Virtue, to give Gold a Birth,  
Out of its sordid Womb. So from your eyes  
my Heart receives the Joys of Paradise:  
Which I was losing. Am refined now.  
by your pure fires: rejoicing Angels owe  
You thanks for my reclaiming which Create  
new Joys with Them, which bear a lasting Date.  
Thus I'm become thy Convert (Dear) and will  
pay all the Good I've forfeited for Ill.  
Clarinda's Name shall like the shadow be  
forgot ere Night; Thine to Eternity  
Shall last. Oh I could Curse that wretched Pen  
that wrote her mine, the common Stool for Men,  
May all those Books as fast as bought, have flame:  
may she as they Consume, Burn with the same;  
That so th' insection of her name that fills  
the earth with looseness and the Air with ills,  
May die with her, and from her Grave shall rise,  
as from a Load of Dung, Maggots and flies.  
Pardon (Ostella) this unusual rage  
wrongs hid, stirred up, in Man new Wars do wage.  
Goodness perverted troubles a Calm State,  
and Love abused grows desperate with hate▪  
Look on me Dear with that compassionate Sense  
as you would on betrayed innocence,  
Clothed in a Robe of Penitence from your eye  
Gracious Ostella let my pardon fly.  
Confession and Contrition may win  
from Heaven forgiveness for the greatest sin.  
Your Saint like temper doth my faith persuade;  
Your Mercy can outvie the faults I made.  
Deceive not then my confidence I am  
your votury now; and in my Heart a Flame  
Burns with Religious Duty, and when I  
Extinguish it may I unpitied die.  
The fervent Light shall sooner leave the World,  
(which through the darkest robe that o'er its hurled  
By night shoots forth some splendour,) and the Air,  
the holy Vestals breath in frequent Prayer,  
Become infectious Saints from Heaven shall fall  
into Perdition. All now righteous shall  
Become apostates▪ and this Globe receive  
by its own weight its Tomb and Nature leave  
To propagate her kind e'er my Faith wasteth  
for know Ostella Love 'bove Nature lasteth,    

To Ostella upon her Reproving me and Councelling me from some Inconveniences.  

THe Breath of Winter that doth Curd the Earth  
to give the Season free and timely Birth  
Comes not so sharply violent as this,  
from you to me, 't hath nipped the budding bliss  
In me, your Beams of goodness cherished. All  
the Comforts I received from this sweet Gall  
Is this, that I to You may be more Pure,  
you pierce my Heart to make a way for Cure.  
It is a stinging Salve, a tickling Smart,  
a pleasing Potion, that doth turn my Heart  
Into faint Qualms, to clear and set it right,  
a bitter Prologue to a sweet Delight.  
A sharp Reproof brings Mercy in the end,  
so judges Chide when Pardon they intend.  
Unskilful Surgeons may the ulcerous place:  
make, by false Applications in worse case  
And when they see the virtue of their Skill  
extends not to a Cure, make haste to Kill.  
But thou, physician-like, wisely dost give  
Cor'sives where needed, and the Lenitive  
In its due place, that the afflicted Sense  
may gather something Cordial from thence.  
Thy council to my Ears did cruel seem  
but the effect on't did my Heart redeem,  
From the loose humours that were gathering to  
a Head, its primitive whiteness to undo  
So physic when Diseases do abound,  
doth make us sharply Sick ere perfect Sound,    

Music in the dead Season of the Night.  

OSTELLA hark! how sweetly doth the sound  
of music in our Ears resound!  
How 'tis advanced by the Night!  
whose silence adds to the Delight▪  
Our Senses dead as Night, are by  
the Virtue of its Harmony  
Stirred and revived, who frisk and play  
like wanton Kids in th'dawn of Day.  
One Voice doth now more Comfort bring  
then the whole choir of Birds in th'Spring,  
It comes to usit us, like that  
rare thing in Man so wondered at,  
Friendship, to set our Spirits free,  
when thralled in fortune's Slavery.    

Ostella commanding my absence for a time.  

REvoke that Doom, Ostella, call it back,  
it is so heavy that my Heart doth Crack  
Under its weight; thou Mayest as well Command  
my Soul to leave its Mansion: 't shall not stand.  
How can I live, Ostella, when that I  
do want the virtual influence of thine eye?  
Suppose Ostella, that that glorious light  
thou now enjoyest by th'virtue of thy sight  
Should be hid from thee, would not th'sudden Change  
depose thy Comfort: and thy hopes estrange?  
The Memory of what you once possessed,  
Would tyrantlike strike Daggers to your breast a  
Danger once passed bring to our Memory,  
a kind of a delight when we are free:  
When safely we may tell what shelves▪ or Rocks  
Composed for ruin we have scaped, what Shocks  
Our Barks received by some rude Waves, and how,  
we cozened ruin of of its sport: this now  
Might reassume content, But when we think  
On our lost happiness, our souls doth sink  
Beneath the hope of Remedy, or Relief.  
nothing is then so powerful as our Grief.  
Man's Misery doth so much more destroy.  
by how much more he was deprived his joy.  
And were I blind (not absent) and couled hear  
thy voice 'twould send Loves harmony through my Ear  
Unto my Heart, and so restore that Sense  
that was defective: thus thy Excellence  
Would so unite my thoughts that discontent  
durst not approrch ne'er my Hearts Continent.  
But so exiled the very sum of bliss  
Enthroned my soul would prove my Extas●s.  
But 'tis your wise apology to say,  
'tis but a fortnight you enjoin my stay:  
When know each minute is ●n Age to one  
whose Love in all transcends comparison.  
How is his heart afflicted with the shape  
of jealous fears when they commit a Rape,  
Upon his Reason, and what he admired,  
he now suspects; his faith almost expired  
Thinks on his former and his present State;  
examines to his own by others' Fate,  
Concludes his Mistress glorious, than despairs  
with th' thought of his own Indigence, and in's Prayers  
He weeps to think that other men may be  
deserving of her favours more than he.  
Minute's produce this, what will hours do then  
and days, and weeks, oh call that back again  
That cruel imposition and set free  
my exiled Heart 'tis ancient liberty  
And I'll confess to me thou life dost give  
since without thee it is a death to live.    

To Time.  

THou that even from thy infancy  
Nature's Surveyour hast been,  
And with a curious searching eye  
her choicest wares haste seen.   

As she to a perfection grew  
in strength and skill to frame,  
Thou didst increase in judgement to  
commend her works to fame.   

Tell me, for thy Propriety  
is to discover Truth  
And not by subtle Sophistry  
to paint or blemish Youth.   

Did ever Greece or Rome afford  
a Mistress like to mine  
Whose breath is Balm whose every Word  
's a mystery Divine.   

And if the Ages past did ne'er  
produce her like, than we  
May with the selfsame safety swear  
Her like shall never be.    

A Dialogue between Nature and Art.  Nature. 

COntend with me! Art, thou'rt too bold.  
Am I not Empress of this Mould?  
The Rose from me its Red receives;  
The lily whiteness, Trees their Leaves.  
Am I not Former of all things,  
Who give both birth and life to Kings.   Art. 

The former true I were to blame  
Not to confefsed but know I am  
Reformer and that bears a Name  
As large in the expanse of Fame  
What thou in framing Careless wert  
Is both supplied and helped by Art▪  
The Tawny are made fair by me,  
The crooked straight as Cedar-tree,  
The Pale Cheeks I supplied with Red,  
To which thy Rose doth look as dead;  
And not a Creature comes from thee  
But I can draw more Buxomly.   Nature. 

By this thou showest thou hast the fame  
To imitate but not to frame:  
Canst thou unto the Rose give sent;  
Or breathe a virtual Ornament  
In Flours or Fruit, or Man or Beast,  
Or yield a vital to the least?  
If so, I'll yield myself to thee,  
And we'll be friends undoubtedly.   Art. 

First tell me if thou canst preserve  
What thou dost frame, and do not swerve  
From Reason, Silence renders no;  
Then be not troubled to know  
I can, and by that consequence  
Ought to have the pre-eminence▪  
For he that can preserve from Death,  
Can without doubt give more than breath:  
The Rose and lily I can keep  
Fresh as in June, from Death or sleep:  
And if my Pencil fall, my Pen.  
Can keep alive the acts of men  
That life is nothing worth forgot  
Even shadow like where I am not  
For I can do more than I've said,  
By powerful verse revive the dead,   Nature. 
Then Art.  Art. 
Then Nature.  CCl. 

Let's oh let's agree,  
And keep alive Ostella's Memory,  
That wheresoeu'r Nature and Art doth Rest,  
Ost may with Glory be expressed.    

To Ostella upon her saying she wondered how one S. B. got into preferment, and not I.  

HE is not worth your Wonder, what in Place  
he is? Plusht to the Ears, daubed o'er with Lace.  
His fingers some superfluous Diamonds wear,  
at which the Drawers and the fiddlers Stare.  
His Lady's Chamber Maids perhaps do take  
upon them much his Love for his Stones sake.  
Ne'er wonder how the slave his talent imps,  
let him be damned, he's one of fortune's Pimps.    

To Ostella, commending meekness of Spirit.  

IT is not safe to be too soft of Spirit,  
a sottish patience hath a coward's Merit:  
It gives occasion many times to ill,  
and cruel Natures, whose harsh custom still  
Seeks not out whom deserves, but who will bear,  
the most, to wrong the easy hearted Hair,  
It draws on injuries, with Pronsethean hearts  
Repel with flames of courage, the Minds Darts,  
This is a maxim we ought all to know,  
he that will bear the weight shan't want the woe,  
All that's besotted to his fear or ease,  
doth make his Patience prove his worst disease.    

The Swallow.  

MArk Ostella when the Spring,  
hath dissolved the frosty King,  
And reseats herself on Earth;  
giving flowers and Plants a Birth;  
When the glorious Sun doth shine  
full of heat as doth thy eyn,  
When the feathered Songsters do  
seem the Princely maid to Woo,  
Then, oh then, to us will come  
to our Cottage to our home  
An amorous guest, who will salute  
you from the chimney top with Flute.  
Like Notes; when you least need the same  
to sing to you 'twill be on ●leme▪  
But when the tedious winter's night  
comes on, that wants both heat and light,  
And that his pretty music may  
with pleasure pass the time away,  
Which else perhaps might sadness bring;  
your Guess is hoarse and cannot sing  
Acquaintance so leaves Men in Misery,  
who did adore him in Prosperity.    

Upon my Departure.  

GIve me a parting kiss▪ oh why in store  
kept you this bliss, ravish me with ove more;  
Come let my Sighs dry up the Dew doth make  
thy Roses to look pale, thy lilies quake  
Into cold fear, keep in those tears a while,  
for I have heard Water will Diamonds spoil:  
Seal on my Lips my licence to depart,  
one kiss more and I'm gone: how sweet thou art?  
And leavest behind such an effectual power,  
all sweets to thine hereafter will be sour.  
Heaven send us happiness to meet again,  
my lips will never sweetness taste till then;  
But I must hence, Fame calls me to the field,  
Virtue hath set her Standard up, the Shield  
Of Honour's waved at me, and I must hence;  
but what on th'sudden doth enlarge my Sense  
Tells me I need not further go, for here  
Virtue and Honour rest as in their sphere,  
And may be purchased with less danger, (oh)  
that, that, alone inflames my Soul to go  
For Man conceives that Honour slightly bought,  
that's not through danger, and with hazard sought,  
I go, but leave a sadder heart behind,  
than e'er thou mad'st it glad by being kind:  
How Reason flies me! what brave Act can come  
into his hands that leaves his heart at home?  
But if Ostella thou wilt give me thine,  
I by my Flames will make it Masculine,     

Daphne's.  

1.  
WHen as the soft wings of the Day  
had fanned the Clouds of Night away,  
The early Light did soon discover  
where lay the emblem of a Lover.   

2.  
On a bank Grief had made Grey:  
born down with sorrow Daphne's lay;  
His Cheeks like Roses ravished,  
his Lips like Cherries withered.   

3.  
Clouds of woe his eyes benight,  
swelling tears entomb their sight,  
Which pursued like fleeting rain,  
made each Channel seem a Main.   

4.  
The Brooks his Sorrows had drank dry,  
Replenished were from either eye.  
Until his sighs made up one Flame  
Malieed by Fate, and parched the same.   

5.  
His many Griefs of sense deprive him,  
his weight of Griefs to sense revive him,  
That his troubled Soul would force  
from a Heart of Flint remorse.   

6.  
Striving with his Fate he riseth,  
hope of Comfort he despiseth;  
Since that blessed means should joy him,  
was converted to destroy him.   

7.  
Quoth he, you powers whose breast did ne'er  
know pity, now Exhaust a tear  
At your own Cruelty, yet give,  
as great a Plague to let me live.   

8.  
Not that one minute can revive  
my Sense or keep my Heart alive,  
Dead to all joy; to you I'll pay,  
my life for th' poor use of one Day.   

9  
Which I will waste as fast as breathe  
to tell a Story ere my Death,  
Shall out live me, and be to Swains  
a sad example: thus he plains.   

10.  
Before these sad Trees were bereaved  
their Virgin-issue, and disleaved,  
My Pipe was known to music forth  
Ostella's Beauty and her worth.   

11.  
Ostella's! she! that was the Flame  
of every heart, whose blessed name  
As though some mystery were hid  
in it, rejoiced each Lamb and Kid.   

12.  
Then Apollo did inspire  
with Phaebean touch my Lyre,  
That Labouring Bees did from my lays,  
at their work rehearse her Praise.   

13.  
Lovely Nut-brown was her hair;  
her forehead full as smooth as fair;  
Her eyes black, shot Beams more bright  
Than doth the Empress of the Night.   

14.  
When Cupid did intend to stray,  
he made her Cheeks his rosy way,  
In whose dimples he lay hid  
Till by his Power discovered.   

15.  
Soft and white as Curds and Cream  
were her Limbs; as rich a theme  
As ere Shepheard chose to write  
Sonnets on, to Charm the Night.   

16.  
Young and sprightly as the Morn  
when the Spring doth it adorn  
Active as the vein of life;  
full of mercy, foe to strife.   

17.  
Innocence and spotless Truth  
were the Jewels to her Youth;  
That stainless Turtles might envy  
the glory of her Purity.   

18.  
Not a Tongue that knew her Name  
but were heralds to her Fame,  
And their Hearts as full of Flame,  
each resolved to win the Game.   

19  
'Mongst those Swains my self was one.  
at the which broke forth a Groan,  
Like the Winds long locked in Earth,  
cracks the Ribs e'red can have birth.   

20.  
He stood and did erect his sight  
as though his Soul had ta'en her flight.  
In that sad gaol recovering breath,  
he seems the conqueror of death.   

21.  
And then he moans: At that blessed time,  
I had the glory to be prime,  
My Pastures full, my Flock did wear,  
as rich a wool as any bear.   

22.  
Harmless mirth did Crown the Cell  
where my Pipe and I did dwell:  
Which invited many a Swain,  
that Ostella hoped to gain.   

23.  
There they tuned their Reeds by mine  
Pan's music ne'er was more Divine  
Sonnets roundly past the throng,  
still Ostella graced my song.   

24.  
Such as did that favour see,  
did, yet durst not envy me:  
For Love to enjoy his sport  
had designed my Cell his Court.   

25.  
When we tripped it on the Green,  
if Ostella were but seen.  
Not a shepherd there was Lame  
Danced as though from Court he came.   

26.  
I that had small Mind to Dance,  
Bequeathed my senses to a Trance;  
Till from the Godhead of her eye,  
my Soul received its liberty.   

27.  
Then with measured speed I showed,  
what the Swains in duty owed  
To Ostella; which! poor they  
with their store could never Pay.   

28.  
And then I entered to my Bliss,  
My Guerdion was Ostella's kiss,  
Whose strong fires, as soon did awe  
my heart, as theirs to softness thaw,   

29.  
When I did kiss, she kissed again,  
as though she would not count in vain,  
Sure, Numberless they were, and yet  
we told, and did as soon forget.   

30.  
Such soft kisses on the Rose  
gentle Zephyrus bestows:  
Nor can th' early sun discover  
Chaster heat from his famed Lover.   

31.  
Then in th' language of our eyes  
we conversed, and did surprise  
either's Heart, yet neither could  
Boast of Conquest if we would.   

32.  
When I joyed she was content,  
When I moaned she did lament,  
At my sadness pined away,  
joyless of her life a Day.   

33.  
When some cross had me molested,  
it seized her, her Heart arrested.  
Did I look pale, the Native red  
of her fair Cheeks, forsook their Bed.   

34.  
Nothing that I said or did,  
But Ostella favoured,  
And those favours I did prize  
more than Vesper Cynthia's eyes.   

35.  
Were I sick she lost her health,  
my heart's welfare was her wealth,  
And my pain, her pain increased;  
as mine did, so hers decreased.   

36.  
Thus like Twins, whose lives sad Date,  
doth depend on either's Fate,  
We did live, as from one breath  
we derived our lives, our Death.   

37.  
Joys we had even such as made  
us boast belief, they could not fade:  
Pleasures Phoenix like did waste  
still renewed by our taste.   

38.  
Turtles never could rejoice,  
more in one another's Choice:  
Palms so prosper when together,  
Sundered they decay and wither.   

39  
Such my wounded heart received,  
so did hers when as deceived  
By th'credulity we had  
of our Fate grown too too bad.   

40.  
Oh'tis dangerous to trust,  
to smiling fortune, she's unjust.  
For the end she seldom shapes,  
like th'beginning with her Rapes,   

41.  
When she flatters she intends  
to destroy, and hath her ends:  
When she threatens we have less  
cause to fear, armed 'gainst distress.   

42.  
Deep security we know  
doth turn tail and overthrow:  
Joys uncertain as our States:  
Ours they are not, but our Fates.   

43.  
This experience I too late  
bought, and at too dear a rate:  
Yet the sweetness that I did reap  
made me deem their price to cheap.   

44.  
We foresaw no Pendent Storm  
O'er our heads, to Menace harm:  
But we were of our delight  
confident as day of light.   

45.  
But (oh) Fortune that e'er while  
Blessed our union with a smile,  
Clouds her Brow, and with the noise  
of shrill war, severs our joys.   

46.  
Peaceful Tempe is become  
deaf with th' jarring Fife and Drum:  
Blood doth stein her snowy breast;  
to our cares, hope gives no rest.   

47.  
Ruin doth pursue our Stocks  
slaughter seizeth on our Flocks,  
Plenty suffers with increase,  
banishment cause friends to peace.   

48.  
' Stead of Pan's soft lays, our Ears  
are enchanted with our fears:  
And the surly Cannon kneels  
sadder farewells than our bells,   

49.  
Not a Bird dare keep her bough,  
nor a He ifer guide the Plough;  
Nor a lass to dance, or run:  
all their dancing days are done.   

50.  
Thus our Tempe changed is quite:  
" such power hath Envy o'er Delight▪  
And so sad a place is made,  
As where Sun ne'er blessed with shade.   

51.  
All our sports are spoiled, and he  
now's the only Man dares die,  
He that freezeth to the Earth,  
he whose scars give life a birth.   

52.  
He that will not flinch his ground  
till all's body be one wound,  
He, He's the Man, that shall out▪ live  
his Fate, and to Time Trophies give.   

53.  
This is that, which makes the mind  
of man, as venturous as the wind.  
Honour glorifies that breath,  
that her Champion is, in death.   

54.  
Returned with Conquest is't not brave  
One can say, he passed his Grave?  
Nay, the very sons of fear,  
love of glorious Acts to hear.   

55.  
I exalted with Desire,  
(Filled with more than common fire.)  
That Ostella, to her Name  
might have Honour, sought out fame.   

56.  
See my error, Fools so may  
bring their torchlight to the day:  
For (alas) could she have more  
than her own worth owned before?   

57  
" Great things many times arise  
from small beginnings, be men wise:  
Acts I've read in honour's Story  
‛ gun with danger, end with glory.   

58.  
These great hopes made many a Swain,  
to forsake his erst loved Plain,  
To lay Hook, and Tarbox by,  
And with a sword their room supply.   

59  
When so many lads do roam  
'twere cowardice to stay at home:  
And my thoughts did soar as high  
as the proudest shepherds eye.   

60.  
But Ostella! she that knew  
no other bliss than what she drew  
From me, (alas) and I. that ne'er  
drew breath, but from her Sovereign air.   

61.  
She (alas) could not dispense  
with my so soon parting thence.  
Sorrowed, then advised, quoth she,  
thy parting sure will murder me.   

62.  
My life doth depend on thine  
as I hope thine doth on mine:  
Should Death seize thy nobler part  
alas, alas, where were my heart.   

63  
Ne'er like cruelty was shown  
when two lives are lost in one:  
And with that her sad heart tries  
to have passage through her eyes.   

64.  
Then I kissed, to stop that grief,  
Mine did need as much relief:  
As we sought to Cure each other  
Sorrow did our Comfort smother.   

65.  
Her eyes overflowing showers,  
might have drowned her Cheeks Flowers,  
Had not my sighs dried up those tears,  
Than each rosy-bank appears.   

66.  
United to her Sense, at last  
quoth she, why dost thou make such haste  
To thy own sad Fate and mine,  
what have I that is not thine.   

67.  
Or what can there be more dear,  
to thyself, than thou hast here?  
Love no other prize regards  
than itself, it, it, rewards.   

68  
Sure I am thou once didst prize  
no prize dearer than my eyes:  
Those thy worth hath made thy own,  
Canst thou leave thy joys so soon?   

69.  
Thou by hazarding thy life  
mak'st me widow ere a Wife.  
Such keen fears my heart do go●e,  
that I ne'er shall see thee more.   

70.  
But, (alas) I sadly doubt  
that thy flame of Love is out:  
Fires that fiercely burn do waste  
Ere they warm, such was thy haste.   

71.  
Blame me not, my Love is such,  
that it cannot fe● too much.  
Love is subject to suspect  
where it finds the least neglect.   

72.  
And as apt is to believe  
things which many times deceive▪  
Confidence (alone) betrays  
like a thief, us from our ways.   

73.  
Soft suspicion keeps the Road  
brings us safe to our abode:  
'Tis a Lecture Love doth read  
that credulity's the fools Creed.   

74.  
If I err in doubting thee  
'tis a pleasing fault in me.  
And a joy to be deceived  
when my fears are not believed.   

75.  
But to think that thou wilt go  
Reassumes again fresh woe  
But thy will disposeth mine,  
I'll refer my good to thine.   

76.  
Fain my heart would give consent,  
that thou might'st receive Content:  
But my fears do check my will;  
" thus Love Passions Combat still.   

77.  
When I would say go, my Tongue  
Tells me I would do thee wrong.  
If stay, I should Cloud that same  
might Eternize thy loved Name.   

78.  
Thus poor heart Her love Contends  
with her reason who pretends  
A claim to love and now agree  
Only for the good of me.   

79.  
And at last, as though she meant  
to breathe her last she spoke consent  
Go, and what Fate follows thee,  
assure thy self shall govern me.   

80.  
We kissed, and parted. Oh (quoth she)  
Ne'er shall this be ta'en from me,  
Till death's rude Lips ravish it,  
or thy breath revive the heat.   

81.  
With such sadness the loved Vine  
divested of its pride doth pine.  
Birds so feel the sense of smart  
when they and their Summer part.   

82.  
Our Hearts with grief like vessels grow,  
so full they cannot vent their Woe▪  
Who could part with so much bliss  
on such cruel tears as this.   

83.  
But the Will of Fate must be  
Obeyed, none flies his Dstiny;  
And my thoughts pursued the worst,  
that heaven's Anger ever cursed.   

84.  
Parting my promoting hope  
gives my mind a glorious scope,  
And presents such shapes of joy,  
that my former Griefs destroy.   

85.  
Loves forgot, and now I crave  
either Honour, or a Grave:  
Fortune hears my wish, and shows  
that she must be won with blows.   

86.  
No attempt I leave unsought,  
danger hold a thing of nought,  
Which I spurn, and take a Pride  
in the blood falls from my side.   

87.  
Courage makes that wound a scratch;  
Straight at honour's lock I snatch;  
For unless I have another,  
that same wound doth want a Brother.   

88  
Which I win from the stern foe  
as my Heart had willed it so.  
All the prize in this I got,  
was th' honour to be envied at.   

89.  
In the heat of these sad Wars  
fame to breed at home fresh jars,  
Idly rumoured of my Death,  
which was ta'en by every breath.   

90.  
Not a lass, but did give o'er  
their mirth, and my sad loss deplore:  
And the home▪ kept▪ Lads do strike  
Passions Discord much alike.   

91.  
This Ostella's mother hears,  
sweeter music to her Ears  
Never came from Brook or Dale,  
but she feared 'twas but a Tale.   

92.  
While I absent was, there came  
A shepherd great in Purse and Name;  
Who solicited my Dear  
breathing Poison through her Ear.   

93.  
But she long before had ta'en  
an Antidote against that bane,  
As fervent was her flames to me  
as the light to Day can be.   

94.  
But her cruel breasted Mother  
long had practised how to smother  
Her old flames, and to invest  
new thoughts where mine were possessed.   

95.  
Now again assaults the Prize,  
and withal the subtleties  
mother's power, or woman's skill  
can invent, she tempts her ill.   

96.  
Twits her with her duty then,  
tells the choice she've made of Men  
The very best, rich of clear blood  
what he wants wealth can make good.   

97.  
But Ostella that could ne'er  
to such for did thoughts adhere  
In love's name stands to her guard  
and her constancy's her ward.   

98.  
Though in th' conflict Nature strove  
to defeat the force of love,  
Yet her thoughts bring fresh supplies,  
Armed against all Batteries.   

99  
Which when her spleenful mother saw,  
nor fair means win, nor threatning awe,  
Kneels my Death, as though from thence  
she might Warrant her offence.   

100  
But Ostella th'truest made  
that e'er at love's Altar laid  
A broken heart, faints and doth die  
each minute, fore her mother's eye.   

101.  
Now they wail, but oh too late,  
they have killed her with my Fate  
'Tis vain to Court or waste their breath  
she's become a Bride for Death.   

102.  
Her blood hath forsook her face  
and cold dew usurps the place;  
In her Agony doth rave,  
fetch my Duphnes from the Grave,   

103.  
Would he die unkinder he,  
but hark he hath summoned me,  
And I must hence, you do me wrong,  
in keeping me from him so long.   

104.  
Thus in pain poor Soul she lay  
with Snail▪ like▪ speed she did decay,  
And wasted like a slow soft fire,  
that's dead to sight ere't doth expire.   

105.  
I come (quoth she) and bring with me  
my Hearts unsteined Virginity,  
Unblasted and unplucked so lay,  
and sighing sent her soul away.   

106.  
She parted hence as pure and white  
as the chaste Primrose, when no light▪  
Rude-hand hath cropped it, doth return  
making what was its Womb its Vrn.   

107.  
Near this time the Wars did cease,  
I arrived with Love and Peace,  
Near Ostella's home, where I  
expected her loved Company.   

108.  
But I found in every eye  
Sorrows profuse Livery:  
My poor Heart was at a pause  
doubting 't was some general Cause.   

109.  
This sad Story I have told,  
I did hear: but oh! how cold  
It struck my Heart; there's none can guess,  
but such whose Cause speaks little less.   

110  
This was her Walk, and here I'll end  
my life and Woes, then be my friend  
Good Fate, now thou hast let me tell  
my own mishaps, ring thou my Knell.    

Occasional Copies upon several SUBJECTS.  

To a Mistress that told me, I could not live without her Love.  

TEll me not that I die, or live by thee,  
and as thou point'st my Doom so it must be:  
Or that my life, didst thou but leave to love,  
would like a long Disease as weary prove:  
Since he whose M●d is proof against his Fate,  
makes himself happy at the worst Estate,   

'Tis vanity for Man to build his Bliss,  
On the frail favour of a woman's kiss,  
And most unmanly to enthrall his eye,  
When Heaven and Nature gives it liberty;  
For womens' fancies with their fashions change,  
And love for fashion, to each face that's strange.   

I know the humour of thy Sex is such,  
They ne'er could value any one thing much,  
Forshould thy breasts with constant flames be fired,  
'Twere more than I expected▪ though desired;  
Then think me not so fond, although I love,  
But as thou steer'st thy course, so mine shall move.   

He that hath Wealth and can that Wealth forgo,  
is his own man, not slaved to any woe,  
So armed with resolution I am free,  
and still o'er-comer of my destiny:  
Yet know I love, though I can leave that state,  
he best knows how to love, knows how to hate.    

To a simply Coy Mistress.  

WHat though I did swear your eye,  
had enough to take a heart,  
Yet from mine I will not part.  
I have read love's sophistry:  
for know proud, I ne'er was born,  
To endure your sex's scorn.   

Though I you a lily swore,  
yet the Violets azur'd hue,  
is for use more prized than you:  
Nor will I those lips adore,  
since the Cherries, trees do bear,  
Are far sweeter than yours are.   

Though I praised your swelling breast,  
yet the Grape or Gooseberry,  
Yield a juice more savoury:  
Nor will I again protest  
to an outside, till I know,  
'Tis for taste as well as show.    

To an imperiously proud Mistress, swelled with my Praises.  

FRail Beauty, boast not of that Face,  
to which I gave the perfectest Grace:  
For leaving me, thou must resign,  
That Glory which I made Divine.  
Thou art no longer fair, than thou art mine.   

Though Nature might thee lovely call,  
I made thee supernatural;  
Set on thy Face so pure a form,  
That neither Age, nor Death by storm,  
could ever do the virtue of it harm.   

Our knowing sense, tells us the Grave,  
shall swallow what e'er Nature gave;  
Her own Philosophy hath said,  
She can't preserve what she hath made,  
for which herself, herself she doth invade▪   

When I that did such Beauty give,  
by the same power can make it live,  
My praise outdid thy mother's care,  
No Art but mine, could make thee fair,  
the power of Love then made my Fancy rare▪   

Prize me, I will reverse thy Doom,  
and bring thy ruined Beauty home  
To that supreme Felicity,  
Affection first conferred on thee:  
Love me, and live to all Eternity.    

Upon the acquaintance of a Gallant Gentlewoman. To myself.  

SHe is exactly glorious. On her eye  
Lovers may read better Philosoyhie  
Than e'er th' Athenians taught, she's high in Name,  
higher in Beauty than the reach of Fame.  
But highest in her Virtue, and her Mind,  
and yet she wants not Nature to be kind,  
But even unto the meanest Creature she  
shoots Lustre through a sweet humility.  
she's great, but yet not greater than my Love,  
nor higher than my Flame: then on, and prove  
The temper of her breast; try if it be  
Armed against Love, and his Artillery.  
But (oh) I feel my heart consume like fire,  
that wastes itself in seeking to aspire▪    

Crying and Laughing.  

PHelicia wept. and from her eyes.  
the Pearly showers did fall  
Upon her Cheeks, and straight did rise  
the Sun, and drank up all.   

If Women are so quaint to cry,  
and laugh too in one breath,  
He's mad will keep them company,  
they'll jeer a horse to death.    

To Meritricia.  

POx take your tempting face,  
with its illusive grace;  
Men ought to be  
armed 'gainst your Venery,  
Which pierceth buff, or Coat of Mail,  
there's no such terror as your Tail.   

I boast no greater Wealth  
than that I am in health;  
Nor would I be  
in debt to Surgery;  
For thy Adulterate sweets so rot,  
there's scarce a man can 'scape thy Pot▪   

Curse on this frail desire,  
it set old Troy on fire:  
Many have been  
burnt since for the same sin:  
And yet we do not dread the flame,  
but every minute Court the same   

Why should we deem that Fair,  
each minute wants repair?  
Or Colours gay,  
as often kissed away?  
For though above thou art Heaven in show,  
he's blessed that escape thy Hell below.    

To Mistress S. W.  

SHoot not so fast your scorching Beams,  
lest they do burn that should not harm:  
Or like to Fire in its extremes,  
consume and die e'er scarce it's warm.   

Yet t'be a Martyr to thy Eye,  
who would not run with eager speed?  
And offer up himself to die,  
and at thy Altar freely bleed.   

That Act alone would Crown with Fame  
the trivial Deeds his Life had done,  
And raise his Soul above his Flame,  
whose brightness might outbrave the Sun,  
For know he that thus phoenixlike doth burn,  
Must needs derive a Glory from his Vrn.    

To Silvia  

THou tak'st a wrong course to be rid of me,  
void both of Wit and policy.  
'Tis not thy surious hate can do't,  
and take thy Pride and Scorn to boot:  
Who ever knew one angry Flame  
the fury of another tame?  
The youngest fire that's fiercest blown,  
spreads widest, and most flame doth own.  
Opposed Winds do fiercest blow,  
and Streams rebated highest flow.  
The more thy Hate seeks to suppress my Love,  
the more it doth increase, and stronger prove.  
Those things that hardest are to be come by,  
brave Spirits soonest after fly:  
Things that are easy to be bought,  
are by the common People sought.  
What ever seeks to shun us, we  
wing our Desire the most to see.  
What is denied us to know,  
our Inclination's aptest to:  
When we're prohibited from meat,  
we have the greatest mind to eat;  
And thus thy hate doth but enlarge Desire,  
the more repressed, the more it doth aspire.  
But 'cause I love thee, I will show to thee  
an easy way t' be rid of me.  
Let me first sat my longing Eye  
on thy fair Shapes discovery;  
My hands may next offenceless Rove,  
and want on in the shade of Love.  
Then let my Ears receive Content  
in Words that speak a free Consent,  
From thence thou breathest forth Frankincense,  
to open my obstructed Sense.  
Next let my Appetite be pleased,  
each Sense being sated, I'm appeased.  
Thus having known All I desire to know.  
Surfeit may soon effect what Hate would do.    

To a timorously willing Mistress.  

LIke Summer bringing in a Dearth,  
or Beauty blasted in its Birth▪  
Such is thy Love to me, that fills  
but expectation till it kills.   

Thy Smiles no sooner warm my Heart,  
but Frowns dart Death through every part,  
And the choice pleasure of thine eyes  
invite me but to tantalise.   

When thirsty Grief desires to sip  
Life from the Cherries of thy lip;  
The Root of Life by which they grow,  
declares my Death by answering No.   

Nor can I guess why it hath been,  
Unless to love be held a sin;  
If so, the Gods themselves must be  
in such a sort as deep as We.   

Oh think not (Dearest) 'tis in vain  
to hope for pleasure without pain:  
Whilst equal Love and Joys attend us,  
Both Faith and Silence shall befriend us.   

Couldst thou my Heart Anatomize,  
wherein thy perfect Figure lies,  
There shouldst thou find what neither Fate  
nor envious Time shall violate,   

Such Constant Truth my Love doth bear,  
in all thy Fortunes I will share;  
And of each Misery will boast,  
wherein my self shall suffer most.   

Thus dare I boast my Love to thee,  
beyond our frail Humanity:  
For he whose Love transcendeth mine,  
must not write Mortal, but Divine.   

And should thy Cruelty extend  
this loathed Life of mine to end,  
Th' Arabian wonder shall not die  
more glorious in her Flames than I.    

Upon my Noble friend, Richard Lovelace Esquire, his being in Holland. An Invitation.  
A Song.  

COme Adonis, come again,  
what distaste could drive thee hence,  
Where so much delight did reign,  
Sating even the soul of sense?  
And though thou unkind hast proved,  
never Youth was more beloved.  
Then loved Adonis come away.  
For Venus brooks not thy delay.   

Wert thou sated with the Spoil  
of so many Virgin-Hearts,  
And therefore didst change thy Soil,  
to seek fresh in other parts:  
Dangers wait on foreign-game.  
we have Deer more sound and tame.  
Then loved Adonis, &c.   

Phillis, fed with thy delights,  
in thy absence pines away;  
And Love too hath lost his Rites:  
not one lass keeps holiday.  
They have changed their Mirth for Cares.  
and do only sigh thy Airs.  
Then loved Adonis, &c.   

Elpine, in whose Sager Looks  
thou wert wont to take Delight,  
Hath forsook his Drink and Books,  
'cause he can't enjoy thy sight.  
He hath laid his Learning by,  
'cause his Wit wants Company.  
Then loved Adonis come away,  
For Friendship brooks not thy Delay.   

All the Swains that once did use  
to converse with Love and thee,  
In the language of thy Muse,  
have forgot Loves Deity:  
They deny to write a line,  
and do only talk of thine.  
Then loved Adonis come away,  
For Friendship brooks not thy Delay.   

By thy sweet A 〈…〉 's voice  
we conjure thee to return;  
Or we' l rob thee of that choice  
in whose Flames each Heart would burn:  
That inspired by her and sack,  
such Company we will not lack.  
That Poets in the Age to come,  
Shall write of our Elysium.    

To a Mistress that thinks the sight without other enjoyment is Love sufficient.  

IF thou intend'st only to try  
the silent Courtship of the eye,  
Without the sense of what is Good,  
which by love's fires are understood,  
Command those Cupids to retire,  
Whose Darts are headed with Desire.   

Forbid the union of our Hands,  
each Amorous touch a heat commands:  
Forbid our Lips to meet and melt,  
where the pure Sense of Love is felt;  
Forbid thy Tongue to whisper love,  
That very word hath power to move.   

Whose ardent Breath infused, can  
raise Courage in a dying Man;  
And through each Vein fresh heat restore,  
that had been scared with cold before:  
So from thy Air such Vigour came,  
It curled my Heart into a Flame.   

Forbid thy Cheeks to show their Spring;  
forbid thy Nightingale to sing;  
Forbid thy All and every part,  
to show so much their Mistress Art:  
For 'less thou keep'st those Baits within,  
They'll tempt an Anchorite to sin.   

Yet should those Excellencies be  
Deprived their proper use in thee,  
Men would be apt their Faiths to pawn;  
thou'rt but a Picture lively drawn,  
On which each rude presumptuous eye  
Admiring, feasts as well as I.   

So I confess my flames may end,  
and thou, a shadow, lose thy Friend:  
Unless my Fancy raise Conceit,  
thou art my Mistress Counterfeit.  
And so surveying each fair part,  
I paint her Figure in my Heart.    

To a virtuous Lady, on whom Envy had thrown a Scandal, for which she Mourned, and hung her Chamber with Blacks.  

LEt not the Sables so benight your eyes,  
nor yet entomb your Beauty ere it dics;  
Envy doth from this Sorrow gather strength,  
and grows more huge and monstrous in length:  
He gluts himself upon your Discontent,  
and raiseth from your Sighs his Merriment.  
The giddy people, that nought understands▪  
Strangers to Truth, will▪ like to firebrands,  
Kindle a hot suspicion in each other,  
till they your Honour and your Fame do smother.  
A Stream that may be stopped at the Springs head,  
if let alone may overflow a Mead,  
Nay drown a League of Earth. Now Envy sings;  
and t'paint his falsehood like to Truth, he brings  
This inference; Sorrow doth Guilt imply,  
and your offence makes you so often die.  
Then Madam tear those Death-like-Sables thence,  
in th' stead set up your Flags of Innocence:  
And brave Desiance that Truth's light may be  
no longer hid by enutes treachery.  
Thus reassuming your heart's jollity,  
envy will want his food, so starving die.    

Spying Splendora through a Casement.  

'Twas late and dark, and yet the early Day  
in her Springs pride, ne'er shot a brighter R●  
Than met my eyes. So doth the Queen of light  
dart through the Ebon Casements of the Night  
Her comfortable splendour, to redeem  
The world from darkness, lost in our esteem.  
If You shoot such Beams through Obscurity,  
how full of Glory would your Presence be?    

My Friend Paul Squire.  

THou lent'st me twenty shillings, (true) and ten,  
which thou wouldst have me pay thee back again;  
And for the speed of it thou bid'st me bawl,  
and borrow, or rob Peter to pay Paul.  
Rare Christian Counsel, I commend thee now,  
I'll gang about it,— but— I ken not how:  
Comfort thyself with hopes. I prithee do;  
I have a Friend will do't,— ay— ken not who;  
Perhaps he's at the Indies with his Ware,  
Constantinople,— or— I know not where:  
Yet I an honest mind bear, thou seest then,  
and thou art like t' be paid— ay— know not when.  
Take this ●y Paul in the Exchange of thine;  
I'm confident it is far better Coin.    

Seeing a Lady—  

OH she is fair: Fair as the Eastern Morn▪  
when she is pleased the Summer to adorn  
With her Springs Glory: Sweet as—  
Leave begging-Muse, thy praise gains no Relief,  
since from her glory I derive my grief.    

An Occasional frolic to an unknown Friend.  

SIr, By my life I know not what to write:  
Jack Ager swears your wit is infinite;  
As boundless as his praises, or the seas,  
or our swelled Cups that elbow-in with these.  
Of such a fervent Fancy it might win  
an Anchorite to fall in love with sin.  
Our Healths, that clip Times wings, and swifter pass  
than his dwarff-Minutes, or his spacious glass  
Disburthens her big Womb of Pigme-sands,  
to you we dedicate: whilst our Commands  
As weighty as our liquour, says on's head,  
that dares but hope that he can grope to Bed.  
As our Gorge fills, we give our body's ease.  
and gush forth floods, as Seas do combat Seas:  
That as an Inundation plays its pranks,  
we make the joraanes to o'erflow their Banks.  
If any Nod under fell, Morpheus weight,  
our waking justice takes him Napping straight;  
And in Contempt we let the stinkard sink  
in his own puddle, though we swim in drink.  
To stand is out of use; to walk upright  
doth savour too much of the Hypocrite.  
But, like mad Greeks, we fight upon the knee,  
Till to the chin in blood of Grapes we be,  
And him we count a most Herculean ass,  
that wants the Art to multiply a glass,  
That so our optics may with little trouble,  
take quarts for pottles, and see all things double.  
If any shrink 'cause money he doth lack,  
we'll drown his Hogshead in a But of Sack.  
But by th' addition of my Cups, I feel  
my Muse is drunk, and now my Verses reel;  
I'm sure they have the Staggers; then (Sir) think  
what I have done amiss was in my drink.  
Your Healths our Healths preserve, and hearty Sack  
is Belly-food, and Raiment for the Back:  
Nor want we music to maintain the Season;  
our Pottle-pots do keep their Diapazon.  
Thus much as I am Mortal; but the sire  
that Courts your Knowledge of me, reacheth high,  
And cannot be less powerful than the Flame  
circled Prometheus, till I meet the same.  
I rest, as you please to style   
I. T.   

To a Gentlewoman that Loved me, and I not her.  

DArt, dart thy Beams at one who is  
a Subject fit to receive fire;  
Thou sooner mayst turn me to Ice,  
than kindle in me a Desire.   

The Sea may sooner flame than I  
who am a Sea of liquid woe,  
Even dead I am, before I die,  
and my heart's coffined up in Snow.   

love's precious oil and Sacred fire,  
which in the Lamp my breast did burn,  
Have left it empty, and retire  
to wait upon Ostella's Urn.   

That now a Vault it is become  
and retains nought but holy Air,  
Where Damps of sadness take up room,  
and Ghastly sorrows do appear.   

How canst thou then hope heat from me,  
whose Sorrows like to Damps, destroy  
All Flames of joy, but what may be  
Kindled by thinking of her joy,    

Another upon the same.  

NOt but thy Beauty may Command,  
an host of armed Cupid's rise,  
Each with his flaming Dart in hand  
Ta'en from the Storehouse of thy eyes.   

And having vigour gained from thence  
may with huge Courage, Sword and Flame  
Lay siege to beat down my Defence,  
Enchanted by Ostella's Name.   

But when they think my faith to shake,  
and all their force and strength do try,  
They'll find it difficult, to take  
a breast so manned with Constancy,    

A Dialogue.  1 
TEll me fair Nymph, canst thou love me?  2 

No, 'tis a breach to Liberty:  
I yet enjoy a free Estate,  
Neither a slave to Love nor Hate.   1 

Thou art misinformed in this,  
For without Love, no joy there is.   2 

Alas we know, you Men have skill,  
To guild the poison of the Pill;  
But 'tis beyond your utmost Art,  
To make the practice on my Heart.   1 

True, not in mine; but his that can  
Aw even the heart of Mighty Pan,  
Soften the rigid satyr's breast,  
And to each troubled Soul give rest:  
To Discord he can Concord give,  
And teach Society to live;  
For wheresoever he doth come,  
The Place is made Elysium.   2 
What place is that?  1 

The place of Rest,  
Where Love's in every Sense expressed;  
There dying Hearts he doth revive,  
And makes them All their Cares survive.  
There are no Sighs, nor sign of Tears,  
No jealous thoughts, nor panting fears.  
But such a lasting Spring of joy,  
That Age nor Death cannot destroy.  
Oh that I might those joys possess!  
Love me, and here thou It find no less.   2 
I would, but know not how.  1 

That's fine;  
Come warm thy softer Palm in mine,  
Now meet a kiss.   2 
I'm all one flame.  1 
'Tis in love's power to quench the same.  2 
Say Shepherd, say, Canst thou love me?  1 
No, 'tis a breach to liberty.  2 
Oh do not mock me,  1 
Oh do not mock me.  2 
Indeed I love.  1 
And so do I.  Chorus 

There's nothing like love's liberty.  
To which we'll win the heart of many a Swain,  
who knowing not his sweets, their good refrain:  
And flinty breasted Nymphs soften, till they  
by our Example, learn who to obey.  
Since Love hath the instinctive power alone  
to tie and fasten thus two Hearts in one.    

To—  

I May revoke each Vow I made to thee,  
without the guilt of wilful Perjrary.  
I swore I'd Wed thee, and I meant no less,  
Hadst thou but proved the same thou didst profess:  
But being not what thou didst seem to be,  
it were a sin to keep my Faith with thee.  
Our fancy's oft deceived by the sight  
of some far Object, some exhaled Light,  
That seems a Star, but falling to the Ground,  
the falseness of th'admired thing is found.  
So though thou didst mislead my eyes, thou'lt find  
thy fair illufion can't my Judgement blind.  
I'd rather marry one resembles Night,  
that hath an Inward part can make her bright.  
For Lapidaries value not alone  
the make, but secret Virtue of the Stone.  
I care not for the whites of. Shape or Face:  
a black Heart's oft hid in a crystal Case,  
A Rose, whose Virgin Beauty casts a sent,  
passing through many hands, is quickly spent:  
So is a Picture, though as neatly limbed  
as Art could fancy, breathed on too much dimmed.  
Sure that man than is void of Reason quite  
that binds his faith unto a stale delight,  
Thus Helen like a canceled bond I leave thee,  
the Date is out, thou shalt no more deceive me:  
For thou hast wasted so thy youthful fires  
thou canst not thaw the Ice of my Desires.  
Then Glow-worm know, I'll not admire that light  
Can't yield me Comfort in the frostiest Night.    

To a Mistress that bid me make another Choice.  

KNow dearested was no easy Art,  
could have conquered me:  
My Breast was proof against the Dart  
of any foe but thee.   

And hadst not wounded me with smiles,  
Than cured me with a kiss.  
I had contemned thy Sexes Wiles,  
as Enemies to Bliss.   

But having caught me in the Snare,  
I can't with ease return:  
Had others harms made me beware,  
I might have left to burn.   

But greedy of my misery.  
I Courted so my Fate,  
The Object spoke all love to me,  
but the Effect on't hate,   

No Beauty but thy own shall make  
me sensible of Woe:  
For when I do the same forsake  
I must my bliss forgo.   

My Heart shall never yield itself  
a prisoner but to thee;  
For no respect to Praise or Pelf  
shall bribe my Constancy.   

When thou shalt from thy Throne of Bliss  
look down on my sad Heart,  
And know for whose dear sake it is  
appointed so to smart;   

When thou shalt find I prize thy joy,  
more than my own Content,  
What heart but thine could so destroy  
a heart so innocent.   

When thou shalt find my Youth to waste,  
my Loyalty endure,  
And I no other joys do taste  
than what thy Hate doth sour;  
When thou shalt find I take Delight  
in nothing, save in thee,  
If Pity won't my love require,  
be kind to murder me.   

Till when my Soul when 'tis most sad,  
shall find the way to sing,  
There is no Comfort to be had,  
but what thy Love must bring.  
And if thy Glories think it meet,  
I must their Martyr be,  
When nature's Watch hath left to beat,  
Parewell fair Cruelty.    

To myself.  

ANd why love I the thing that hates me?  
Reason won't admit of this:  
Rather prize the thing that baits me,  
there a promise is of bliss,  
Though the effect of it perhaps we miss.   

For what appeareth good or great  
to our eyes, our Hearts so deem;  
The Taste directs the Appetit,  
Sweets are made as We esteem:  
But Reason thral'ld to Love who can redeem.    

To the Deceiving Mistress.  

THine eyes shall be my Stars no more,  
they have deceived me,  
He madly doth his Death implore,  
that seeks from them Security.   

I thought they had been fixed on me,  
but wandering Lights they prove:  
The more they are admired in thee,  
the more they love to gad and rove.   

As though they would outvie the Light,  
contracted to the Day,  
Until the Glory of the sight,  
some simple Hearts like mine betray.   

Yet boast not of that cruel Art,  
that so outwitted mine:  
For sure thou ne'er hadst got my Heart,  
had I not more than hoped for thine.   

I see there's policy in Love:  
the slower Men come on,  
The faster your Desires do move,  
'tis Madness You to dote upon.   

For this sad Truth I boldly tell,  
Experience finds it such,  
That had not I loved half so well,  
Thou hadst not hated me so much.    

To Cupid  

Cupid to Arms, or thou'rt betrayed,  
there is a Cold complexioned Maid,  
That teacheth to ascribe to Thee  
a Deity is heresy;  
That thou art made of Wood or Stone,  
set up in Fairs, admired by none  
But Children, who do idolise  
thy Golden Locks, and smother Thighs;  
And at a slender rate may buy  
thy Godhead and artillery.  
Cupid lest thou shouldst not know her,  
these are tokens that will show her:  
Her Beams are such, though blind they say  
thou art, thou needest not grope thy way:  
An awful Brow, a piercing Eye,  
presaging Signs of Sovereignty.  
Her Language smooth, of weighty Sense,  
which seems as fair as her pretence;  
Whose specious Beauties do infer,  
There is no sweetness but in her.  
And this assumes her Virtual Breath  
hath power to send us Life or Death:  
Which will be credited by all,  
and Thou, thy Fame, and Altars fall,  
Unless thou dost by force beat down  
these rising Evils 'gainst thy Crown,  
Arm then thyself, and thou wilt get  
by wounding her more Praise than yet  
Tradition ere piled up for thee;  
Be now One, or no Deity.  
Pursue the Game, and thou shalt prove  
the force of Beauty, I of Love.    

Lycoris a Rapture.  

IN vain thou strivest licorice to defeat  
my purposes, thy blushes may retreat,  
But not my Love, nor can they easy flight  
pass unpursued, or scape the eagle's sight;  
Thou canst not fly my Love, for it hath wings  
swifter than Swallows, so the Falcon sings,  
When he hath seized the Dove, and vainly she  
with feeble force strives her poor self to free.  
Art thou not mine? did not my Love surprise,  
thee and thy Faith, and didst not thou devise;  
An equal Snare for mine? since they agree,  
why should not pleasures then at difference be?  
That I do love thee, I must needs confess,  
and I am confident thou thinkst no less:  
But he that loves to talk and not to do,  
Loseth his Time, his oil and Labour too.  
What man can love the thing he'd not possess  
as by his mind express his willingness,  
Who spares to speak must never hope to speed  
The heart that seeks not help may ever bleed:  
Who only looks, and loves but to admire,  
smothers his flames ere they embrace a fire.  
The Face is but the Index to invite  
our Eyes to view the thing of more delight;  
So Painters set their pieces forth to win  
us to survey their better works within,  
And I could be content with all my heart  
to give my judgement on the inward part.  
'Tis not the Face (alone) that men adore,  
Love softly whispers, 'tis for something more,  
And hath so well that secret-sweet expressed;  
we ought to love that part amongst the rest.  
Who values Lories, but for the airs they make?  
or who the Grape but for the juices sake?  
Who slaves himself to love, not to enjoy  
surrenders up his Freedom for a toy.  
And she that out of simple modesty  
denies Love Tenets, can no Lover be.  
Love answers Love, and in that Language best,  
when he is truly by himself expressed,  
Nor put me off with such your quaint delays,  
as heretofore, to hope for after-days.  
delays are dangerous, and my hopes may be  
like physic misapplied to poison me.  
What thanks can she deserve that shows us meat,  
with this proviso that we must not eat?  
He must be madman, or a Fool at least,  
that starves himself with hoping for a Feast.  
And he recorded be a Fool at last,  
that stays for Milk until his stomach's past.  
Or shall against God's Benefits repine,  
and drink cold Water when he may have Wine.  
What pleasure can there be in this or this?  
we use to flatter Children with a kiss.  
And sure more flames do from my heart arise,  
when I salute those sweet Babies thy Eyes.  
Thou smilest, but like the Sun before a storm,  
so violent fires decay ere scarce they warm.  
Thou lettest me kiss thy hand to raise my flame,  
Than leavest me to be ruined in the same.  
Can this be judged Love, or can there be,  
twixt Love and Beauty such Antipathy?  
How should I know my Friend from Enemy,  
but by the secrets he entrusted me;  
But thou art so severe none can discover,  
whether thou writ'st thy self, or Friend or Lover.  
Happy were they that lived in Ages past,  
when nature tied both Love and pleasure fast:  
Blest were those days, when breast with breast did meet,  
and the stolen sweets of Love not held unmeet.  
When Man had Licence given him with his Eyes,  
to search into love's profound Mysteries.  
When I do court thee to't thou pleadest a sin,  
so puttest a period to't ere I begin.  
Tellest me that Chastity's as cold as Snow,  
and by that Metaphor you must be so.  
But says Experience when the Sun appears,  
he straight dissolves its Body into tears.  
To mourn its own Condition, and it turns  
by often handling, so you'd think it burns.  
Think me the Sun my Dear, and by my Art,  
I'll thaw the Snow congealed about thy Heart.  
For know Lycoris there's no greater Vice,  
in Woman, then to be so over nice.  
What though the Fruits forbidden and the Tree,  
Points death to others? it speaks life to me.  
Our fears deceive us, he whose poor heart dare  
not stand the peril must not hope to share  
I'th' prize or profit: So the merchant's gain  
doth recompense his Travel and his pain.  
That thing that is with greatest danger won,  
brings greatest pleasures when the doubts are gone.  
So's fame and Honour purchased, and by this  
We make our Acts the Authors of our Bliss.  
For ne'er would soldier any Siege begin,  
did not his hopes persuade him he should win.  
Nor e'er did Army (Only) lie before  
a Fort to look on't, and to give it o'er,  
If there were hopes of battery, and all know  
long Siege the strongest Fort doth overthrow;  
For violent Outward storms the In works break;  
and Confidence may make the strongest weak.  
Thou art but Woman dearest, and canst do  
no more than what the strength directs thee to,  
Thou hast endeavoured strongly to resist  
but still the siege continues, all things missed  
Thy aim, thou shot'st in vain, thy force is spent,  
yield on freequarter then, no Treason's meant.  
No noise but such as Turtles sigh shall fill  
thy ears my dear, and I thy victor will  
Become thy Captive, then who'd shun to be  
O'ercome by such a loving Enemy.  
The Bed shall be our Field, and our Alarms  
shall be soft kisses, though we sight in Arms;  
Which I will sow faster than thou canst reap,  
who would no purchase Amity so cheap?  
They say Love Conquers all things if't be true,  
'tis possible that mine may Conquer you,  
And if no Fable that accounted be  
I will oppose my Love 'gainst destiny.  
I'll steal the Frnit from the Hesperides  
Spite of the watchful dragon, when I please,  
And more, to further our Content I'll charm  
those Argoes Eyes about thee, no Ear harm  
Our whispers by a listening, nor a light  
but thine shall lead me to that blessed delight  
That pure Elizer, that All happiness  
whose Sweets none can but he that tastes express.  
Nor think it desperate to be undergone  
the Will doth make the difficulty none.  
She that yields up her Reason to her Fear,  
Loseth her joy, and finds her Ruin near.  
For when thy coyness hath me Murdered,  
thy pity proves bad physic to the dead.  
Or could that pity me to life restore,  
it cures but one wound to make thousands more,  
Unless it carry with't express consent,  
and liberty to warrant my content.  
Then he so merciful to let me be  
O'ercome in Love by my o'recoming thee.  
And let your understanding reach at this,  
none hunts the Game but when the Season is.  
Make use of Time, flowers ne'er so fair decay,  
and Love may turn his course another way.  
Then while our youths do last and Loves agree,  
let not our Pleasures at such difference be;  
The Sweets whereof will lengthen out our time,  
and never fade, but still be in their prime:  
The breath of Love shall make our kisses sweet,  
till we conceit our very souls do meet.  
And as our Limbs do lovingly entwine,  
we'll grow together like the amorous Vine;  
And want only our fancies shall invent  
fresh Pleasures, when our old grow stale or spent.  
We'll fright Age from us, and force Nature to  
supply our wants, till sheher self undo;  
Revive our Pleasures with each Breath, and taste  
the sweets as often, and yet find no waste.  
Thus we will build an Altar, to delight  
on either's lips, and with a flaming spirit,  
Our Actions shall be offered full of fire,  
first kindled from a mutual desire;  
That Poets now and in the Age to come,  
shall fancy ours the true Elysium.    

Lycoris weeping.  

WEep not Lycoris, 'tis not meant  
thou shouldst for this one Act repent;  
For, where such constant Love hath been,  
it were a Crime to think a Sin.  
When sin doth bid thee love, love not at all,  
but Love to bid thee sin is natural.    

A Smile.  

WHo would not think to see that Glance  
the sprightly genius of a flame,  
But from the heat of Love it came;  
and meant some dead Heart to advance  
With warmth to Life? but oh! the ill  
it only shows its power can kill.  
Who would believe, that hath the Eye  
of Reason to direct his sense,  
A Hill of rigid Ice could fence  
the Sun, and so dissolveless lie  
So near the torrid Zone? but oh,  
that is the frigid one below:  
So either's Natures works upon excess,  
as they excel in either more or less.    

To Mrs. J. H. upon my recovery of a fit of sickness.  
Song.  

'TIs true  
I did receive a life from you,  
for he's unjust,  
That shall deny the Miracles thou dost.  
when my poor heart  
Was ready to depart  
This air, thou cam'st to visit me,  
And brought'st me heavenly Surgery,  
in either eye.   

But see  
This Mercy's full of Cruelty;  
for I had paid  
But one poor life, had then my frame decayed:  
When now to please  
Your Pride is a disease  
past Cure, for which each minute I  
Suffer a death, yet cannot die;  
'tis Tyranny.   

My Heart,  
Whereon you practise all your Art,  
you'll says your own:  
So Surg'ons torture ere their skill be shown  
if you'll devise  
Mine to Anothomise,  
that so you may advise your skill,  
First be so kind as throughly kill  
my Wish fulfil.    

To Mrs. I. H. upon the sight of a Marble Coverture or Statue in the Church.  

OBserve Ostella how it weeps,  
As though it grieved for what it keeps,  
And seems a pitteo●s sense to own  
Because its empty guess hath none,  
Or that it should not be the same,  
In sense it seems to be in Fame,  
And can thy breasts be harder far  
Than Rocks of Flint or Marble are?  
Is't not a shame thou shouldst be known  
To have less pity than a stone;  
But since thy Heart of flesh Tears can't persuade  
My preys shall be to have it Marble made.    

A Frown.  

INdeed I am the same I was last night,  
My wit's as safe, and have a heart as light  
As Air in'ts subtlist Motion, and I swear  
I have not wronged the least Curl of my hair  
With violence, nor hath my manly breast  
with any thumps (ridiculous) been oppressed  
My Buttons and my Button-holes are firm,  
so is my shirt: my Eyes did need no term  
Of Art or Charm to close them: but soft sleep  
did in her bosom safe my senses keep,  
I waked this Morning in so good a mind,  
I would not draw myself, and have designed  
This day for Mirth, not to fright Sorrow hence,  
That should from thee have any Influence  
Upon my free▪ born soul; 'tis not a Frown  
Can my aspiring Heart kill, or cast down;  
Should every Frown your Sex casts, slay man Pat,  
He'd need of Ninety nine lives more than a Cat.    

Upon my leaving off the Company of Helena.  

I Go from thee with a more willing Heart,  
than prisoners from their shackles can depart:  
Or Camels from the burdens they lay down,  
or Men to fly Infection leave the Town.  
I go from thee as from a house of Sin,  
a Saint doth fly h''d been betrayed in.  
I leave thee, as I'd leave my Robe of Woe,  
or as I would my Misery forgo.  
I leave thee with as hearty a Desire  
as Sinners do there sins, when th'holy fire  
Of Grace doth Beam into their breasts. Or they  
when mounting Heaven-ward leave their Gaol of Clay.  
I go (shame to thy Sex) I do, nor shall  
Oceans of tears, or gaols of sighs recall  
Me or my vows, the Crocodile I'll trust,  
sooner than thee, and yield myself to dust;  
I, and will first at the Hyaena's call  
return to Death, with life end woes and all.  
Yet i'll not leave behind me any Curse.  
on thee, lest I anticipate a worse  
Which the just Gods intend to shower on thee,  
forth' violation of thy vows to me  
My Charity not love bids thee repent;  
the Gods, though slow, throw home their Punishment.    

Songs in a Masque.  

1 Song: Fortune Descending.  

SAy, say▪ ungrateful mortals, why  
do you so much at Fortune rail  
Since there's not any can deny,  
but by her power they do prevail,  
Or in their Love or Chivalry.   Chorus. 

Then you that are from envy free  
Come and make up a symphony.   

The soldier and the Amorist  
the Courtier, Clerk, and client's Case,  
Each had their several purpose Just,  
if fortune had not been in place  
To make them happy as she lift.   Chorus. 

Then you that are from envy free  
Come and make up a symphony.    

2 The poor scholar's Song.  

What Creatures on Earth  
can boast freer Mirth  
Less enjoyed and loved than we.  
Though Learning grow poor  
We scorn to implore  
a gift but what's noble and free.   

Our freedom of mind,  
cannot be confined  
With Riches are inwardly blessed;  
nor Death, nor the Grave,  
Our worths can deprave,  
nor malice our Ashes molest.   

When such moles as you,  
your own Earth shall Mew,  
And worms shall your memory eat:  
our names being read  
Shall strike envy dead  
and Ages our worths shall repeat.    

3 Song. The Country-life.  

Who can boast a happiness  
more completely sure than we;  
Since 〈…〉 armless thoughts we dress  
i 〈…〉 pure simplicity:  
And ●ast nature doth dispense  
here her beauty's Innocence.   

Envy is a stranger here.  
Blessed Content our Bowls do Crown.  
Let such Slaves themselves to Fear,  
on whose Guils the judge doth frown:  
We from evil Actions are  
Free as uncorrupted Air.   

With the Turtles whisper Love,  
with the Birds we practise Mirth;  
With our harmless Kids we move,  
and receive our food from Earth:  
Nor do we disdain to be  
Clothed with the lamb's Livery.    

4. Song. Ambition.  

HOw deceitful is the State  
of that Greatness we adore,  
when Ambitiously we soar,  
And have ta'en the glorious height;  
'tis but ruin painted o'er  
To enslave us to our Fate;  
Whose false Delight is easier got than kept;  
Content ne'er on its gaudy Pillow slept.   

Then how fondly do we try  
with such Superstitious care,  
to bulild fabrics in the Air;  
Or seek safety in that sky,  
where no Stars, but Meteors are,  
That portend a ruin nigh:  
Where having reached the Object of our Aim,  
we find it but a pyramid of flame.    

5. Song.  

HAng up this delaying device,  
since I am resolved to roam:  
I hate things so peevishly nice,  
and will frolic it ere I go home.   

Thou tellest me thou lovest me best,  
how am I assured of that?  
Thou sufferest me to dandle thy breast,  
but debarrest me the thing thou know'st What.   

Hang Lipolove, and such foolish toys,  
they do but augment our Desires:  
Let Kisses be nourished by Boys,  
'tis Action that shows Manly fires.   

Wherefore thinkest thou I came hither,  
but to tickle thee into the Mood,  
'Til with striving we do melt together?  
such Surfeits do our Bodies most good.   

Then I prithee tell me thy mind,  
if thou to the Feat be willing;  
If not, I shall find one more kind  
though less fair, shall do't for a shilling.   

For the times you know are barely made,  
Men cannot much Money disburse:  
And 'tis fit Women should live by their Trade,  
light gains make a heavy Purse.     

A Prologue spoken at the cockpit, at the coming of the Red Bull Players thither.  

I Am amazed! So one long kept from Light,  
twixt Joy and Wonder, trembles at the sight;  
The Blind that's cured by accident, doth pay  
In such Distraction, Duty to the Day,  
As we present to you: 'tis long since here  
So many Glorious bodies did appear,  
Whose Beams gave Life to Action, as the Sun  
Gives growth to th' Infant Plants he Smiles upon.  
Then flourished here those roscios of the Age,  
That trod the perfect measure of the Stage,  
Who from your eyes took Motion; such as d●ew  
Encouragement to them, Content to you.  
Yet▪ those so exquisite in Comedies,  
Have Acted since their own sad Tragedies.  
Who could have died more bravely? Yet we must  
Leave to Opinion that; our only Trust  
Is in your Favours: Nor think cause your share  
Of Sweets are gone, that all things bitter are.  
If you'll shoot equal Beams on us▪ we'll strive  
‛ I'o make you think that They in us survive▪  
Imagination's strong; but if your eye  
Dart a dislike, 'tis time to yield or die.    

A Prologue spoken at the Red-Bull to a Play called the Whisperer, or what you please.  

NOw bless my eyesight! what! the house so thin,  
And we upon preparing to begin!  
Whence comes this strange Neglect? have you enjoyed  
Of late so much variety y' are cloyed?  
Or do you think you pay too dear for Wit,  
And so would grossly take your leave of it.  
Grossly indeed; for hither you do come,  
Like so many Chu●ls, and leave your Wives at home,  
Our Author likes the Women well, and says,  
You do'em wrong to hinder 'em from Plays.  
And therefore wishes you to be more kind,  
And on his Day to leave them not behind.  
The more the merrier, rather than come alone  
For once make use of what is not your own,  
And bring your neighbour's Wife, which if you do  
'Tis ten to one he'll do as much for you;  
And if our Mirth cannot your Anger smother,  
You may go home, and Laugh at one another.  
If what we fancy, you like in the Play,  
'Tis a good sign that good Wits jump, you'll say.  
But though Detraction's become a Disease,  
In spite of It, you shall have what you please.    

On the Report of Master William laws his Death.  

Who says Will laws is dead? had not his breath  
Virtue enough to charm the Spleen of Death?  
He that to Discord could pure Concord give,  
instructing all Society to live,  
Doth't come within your Reason he can die,  
who bears a part in friendship's Harmony?  
Let not such thoughts abuse you; for the Earth  
receives no music but what was his Mirth.  
He dead, the melancholy World must be  
brought straight into a general lethargy:  
Yet this I guess, finding his Health impair,  
He made this change but for a better Air.    

To my Mother, Mrs. Dorothy Tatham, one of the Daughters of Christopher Percy of Manson in the County of Dorset, Esquire, than justice of Peace and Quorum, and High Sheriff of that County.  

SEe the inconstancy of things,  
the Revolutions of this life,  
That even appears in th' State of Kings,  
and nothing's constant but our Strife.  
The Court, the Ages wonted Pride,  
hath put her Beauty off, and now,  
Her very Glass doth her deride,  
and shows the wrinkles on her Brow.  
Then though y' are not so great as good,  
yet far more happy than y'are poor;  
None can defile your Name or Blood,  
then let that Comfort Guild thee o'er.  
At first or last, alike all People sares.  
And Kings themselves are not exempt from Cares.    

Upon the Death of my Father.  

THe youthful blood that beat the winding Maze  
Within your veins, gave length unto my days;  
The active heat distil a crimson Dew  
Through those warm Limbecks, and made Me of You:  
That to such full proportion I am grown,  
People do still Me for Your figure own.  
Then since I have derived a part from Thee,  
Thou canst not die whilst Thou hast part in Me.    

Song.  

DEfine a Woman! who can do't?  
' less you put the devil to't.  
He that first she yielded to,  
best knows how with her to do.  
To their treacherous smiles he's known,  
and promotes them as his own:  
They can turn as he can do  
devils into angel's hue.  
When they prattle he directs them,  
when they rant it he protects them:  
In all points of Sophistry  
They are skilled as well as He▪  
When they make themselves so trim,  
what do they but even Act him?  
Not for Air their breasts are bare,  
but some poor Soul to ensnare.  
For the Spots upon their Faces,  
tell you what the t'other place is,  
And when for some prey he watches,  
he lies skulking in their Patches:  
Since than they so well agree,  
Pity they should parted be.    

To Cupid.  

SEt me to tame a tiger▪ melt a Rock,  
Number the Sands, Plough up the Seas, or knock  
Both Poles together, I with as much ease  
Dare enterprise these Wonders, as to please  
A Woman. Lay thou any Plague on me,  
But to Love them, I'll deem it clemency;  
For they are Riddles past man's finding out,  
No task so difficult to go about;  
For in that one Act I have laboured more  
Than Hercules did in his twelve before.    

To the—  
Song.  

DEep as the Earth Decline your Ray,  
your Glories bury there;  
It is not meet the Guilty Day  
should ever wear a Vestment clear.  
Since what should make it fair leaves to appear.   

But from the centre of your Souls,  
draw forth your Griefs and die,  
He still his Enemy controls,  
that makes his Death his remedy;  
For Resolution slights extremity.   

Or in your Closets mould away,  
where there is only Room  
Enough, to raise yourselves a Tomb  
there, leave your Epitaphs to pray  
The Day the Night may overcome,  
To welcome your Deliverance home.    
FINIS.