POEMS, etc. WRITTEN BY Mr. ED. WALLER of Beckonsfield, Esquire; Lately a Member of the Honourable House of Commons.  
And Printed by a Copy of his own hand-writing.  
All the Lyric Poems in this Book were set by Mr. HENRY LAW, Gent. of the King's Chapel, and one of his Majesty's Private Music.  
Printed and Published according to Order.  
LONDON, Printed by I. N. for Hu. Mosley, at the Prince's Arms in Paul's Churchyard, 1645.   

To my Lady.  
MADAM,  
YOur Commands for the gathering of these sticks into a Paggot, had sooner been obeyed, but intending to present you with my whole Vintage: I stai●d till the latest Grapes were ripe, for here ●our Ladyship hath not only all I have done, but all I ever mean to do in this kind: Not but that I may defend the attempt I have made upon Poetry by the examples (not to trouble you with History) of many wise, and worthy persons of our own times: as Sr. Phi●ip Sidney, Sir Fra. Bacon, Cardinal Per●on, the ablest of his Countrymen; and the ●ormer Pope, who they say, instead of the triple Crown, wore sometimes the Poet's Ivy, as an ornament, perhaps of lesser weight, and trouble. But Madam, these Nightingales sung only in the Spring, it was the diversion of their youth. As Ladies learn to sing and play when they are Children, what they forget when they are women; The resemblance holds further: for as you quit the Lute the sooner, because the posture is suspected to draw the body awry: so this is not always practised without some villainy to the mind, wresting it from present occasions, and accustoming us to a Still somewhat removed from common use. But that you may not think his case deplorable, who had made verses: we are told that Tully (the greatest wit among the Romans) was once sick of this disease, and yet recovered so well▪ that of almost as bad a Poet as your Servant, he became the most perfect Orator in the world. So that not so much to have made verses, as not to give over in time, leaves a man without excuse: the former presenting us with an opportunity at least of doing wisely: that is to conceal those we have made, which I shall yet do, if my humble request may be of as much force with your Ladyship, as your Commands have been with me; Madam, I only whisper these in your ears: if you publish them, they are your own, and therefore as you apprehend the reproach of a Wit, and a Poet, cast them into the fire, or if they come where green boughs are in the Chimney, with the help of your fair friends, (for thus bound, it will be to hard a task for your hands alone) to tearethem in pieces, wherein you shall honour me with the fate of Orpheus, for so his Poems, whereof we only hear the form (not his limbs as the story will have it) I suppose were scattered by the Thracian Dames. Here Madam I might take an opportunity to Celebrate your virtues, and to instruct you how unhâppie you are, in that you know not who you are: How much you excel the most excellent of your own: And how much you amaze the least inclined to wonder of our Sex. But as they will be apt to take your Ladyship for a Roman name: So would they believe that I endeavoured the Character of a perfect Nymph, worshipped an Image of my own making, and Dedicated this to the Lady of the brain, not of the heart of your Ladyship's most humble servant,  
E. W.   

An advertisement to the Reader.  
REader. This parcel of exquisite poems, have passed up and down through many hands amongst persons of the best quality, in lose imperfect Manuscripts, and there is lately obtruded to the world an adulterate Copy, surruptitiously and illegally imprinted, to the derogation of the Author, and the abuse of the Buyer. But in this book they appear in their pure originals and true genuine colours. In so much that they fear not (as young Eaglets use to be tried whither they are spurious, or of a right extraction) to look upon the Sun in the Meridian, in regard Apollo himself, the grand Patron of Poets seemed not only to cast many favourable aspects, but by his more than ordinary influence to cooperate in their production; as will appear to the intelligent and clear-sighted Reader, by that constant vein of gold (the mineral which that planet owns more than any other) which runs through every one of them.  
Thus they go abroad unsophisticated, and like the present condition of the Author himself they are exposed to the wide world, to travel▪ and try their fortunes: And I believe there is no gentle soul that pretends any thing to knowledge and the choicest sort of invention but will give them entertainment and welcome.   

POEMS.  

Of the danger his Majesty (being Prince) escaped at the road at St. Andere.  

NOw had his Highness bid farewell to Spain  
And reached the sphere of his own power, the Main;  
With British bounty in his ship he feasts  
Th' Hesperian Princes, his amazed guests.  
To find that watery wilderness exceed,  
The entertainments of their great Madrid.  
Healths to both Kings, attended with the roar  
Of Canons, echoed from th' affrighted shore.  
With loud resemblance of his Thunder, prove  
●acchus the seed of cloud compelling Jove;  
While to his harp divine Arion sings  
The loves and conquests of our Albion Kings:  
" Of the fourth Edward was his noble song,  
" Fierce, goodly, valiant, beautiful and young.  
" He rend the Crown from vanquished Henry's head,  
" Raised the white Rose, and trampled on the red:  
" Till love triumphing o'er the victor's pride  
" Brought Mars and Warwick to the conquered side.  
" Neglected Warwick (whose bold hand like Fate  
" Gives and resumes the sceptre of our State)  
" Woes for his Master, and with double shame  
" Himself deluded mocks the Princely Dame  
" The Lady Bona, whom just anger burns  
" And foreign war with civil rage returns.  
" Ah spare your swords, where beauty is to blame,  
" Love gave th' affront, and must repair the same,  
" When France shall boast of her whose conquering eye●  
" Have made the best of English hearts their prize,  
" Have power to alter the decree of fate,  
" And change again the Counsels of our State.  
What the Prophetic Muse intends; alone  
To him that feels the secret wound is known.  
With the sweet sound of this harmonious lay  
About the Keel delighted Dolphin's play;  
Too sure a sign of seas ensuing rage  
Which must anon this Royal troup engage.  
To whom soft sleep seems more secure and sweet  
Within the Town commanded by our fleet.  
These mighty Peers placed in the guilded Barge,  
Proud with the burden of so brave a charge,  
With painted Oars the youth begin to sweep  
Neptune's smooth face and cleave the yielding deep,  
Which soon becomes the seat of sudden war  
Betwixt the wind and tide, that fiercely jar.  
As when a sort of lusty shepherds try  
●heir force at football, care of victory  
Makes them salute so rudely breast to breast,  
That their encounters seem too rough for jest.  
They ply their feet, and still the restless ball  
Tossed to and fro is urged by them all:  
So fares the doubtful Barge twixt tide and winds,  
And like effect of their contention finds.  
Yet the bold Britan's still securely rowed,  
Charles and his virtue was their sacred load.  
Then which a greater pledge heaven could not give,  
That the good boat this Tempests should out live.  
But storms increase, and now no hope of grace  
Among them shines, save in the Prince's face.  
The rest resign their courage, skill, and sight,  
To danger, horror, and unwelcome night:   

The gentle vessel wont with state and pride  
On the smooth back of silver Thames to ride,  
Wanders astonished through the angry Main,  
As Titan's car did, while the golden rain  
Filled the young hand of his adventurous son,  
When the whole world an equal hazard run.  
To this of ours, the light of whose desire  
Waves threaten now as that was scared by fire.   

Th' impatient Sea grows impotent and raves,  
That (night assisting) his impetuous waves  
Should find resistance from so light a thing,  
These surges ruin, those our safety bring.  
Th' oppressed vessel doth the charge abide,  
Only because assailed on every side.  
So men with rage and passion set on fire  
Trembling for haste, impeach their mad desire.   

The pale Iberians had expired with fear,  
But that their wonder did divert their care,  
To see the Prince with danger moved no more,  
Then with the pleasures of their Court before;  
Godlike his courage seemed, whom nor delight  
Can soften, nor the face of death affright.  
Next to the power of making tempests cease,  
Was in that storm to have so calm a peace.   

Great Maro could no greater tempest fain,  
When the loud winds usurping on the Main  
For angry Juno laboured to destroy  
The hated relics of confounded Troy:  
His bold Aeneas on like billows tossed,  
In a tall ship and all his countries lost,  
Dissolves with fear, and both his hands upheld  
Proclaims them happy whom the Greeks' had quelled   

In honourable fight: Our Hero set  
In a small shallop, Fortune in his debt,  
So near a hope of crowns and sceptres more  
Than ever Priam, when he flourished, wore.  
His loins yet full of ungot Princes, all  
His glory in the bud, let's nothing fall  
That argues fear: if any thought annoys  
The gallant youth 'tis loves untasted joys,  
And dear remembrance of that fatal glance  
For which he lately pawned his heart in France,  
Where he had seen a brighter Nymph than she  
That sprung out of his present foe, the Sea.  
That noble ardour more than mortal fire  
The Conquered Ocean could not make expire:  
Nor angry Thetis raise her waves above  
The Heroic Prince his courage or his love.  
'Twas indignation and not fear he felt  
The shirine should perish where that Image dwelled.   

Ah Love forbidden the noblest of thy train,  
Should not survive to let her know his pain,  
Who nor his peril minding, nor his flame  
Is entertained with some less serious game  
Among the bright nymphs of the  Court,  
All highly borne, obsequious to her sport.  
They roses seem, which in their early pride  
But half reveal and half their beauties hid.  
She the glad morning, which her beams doth throw.  
Upon their smiling leaves, and gild them so  
Like bright Aurora, whose refulgent ray  
Foretells the fervour of ensuing day,  
And warns the shepherd with his flocks retreat  
To levy shadows from the threatened heat.   

From Cupid's string of many shafts that fled,  
Winged with those plumes which noble fame had shed,  
As through the wondering world she flew and told  
Of his adventures haughty, brave, and bold.  
Some had already touched the royal Maid,  
But loves first summons seldom are obeyed.  
Light was the wound, the Prince his care unknown,  
She might not, would not, yet reveal her own.   

His glorious name had so possessed her ears,  
That with delight those antique tales she hears  
Of jason, Theseus, and such worthies old,  
As with his story best resemblance hold.  
And now she views as on the wall it hung,  
What old Museus so divinely sung,  
Which art with life and love did so inspire,  
That she discerns and favours that desire.  
Which there provokes th' adventurous youth to swim,  
And in Leander's danger pities him,  
Whose not new love alone, but fortune seeks   

For from the stern of some good ship appears  
A friendly light, which moderates their fears.  
New courage from reviving hope they take,  
And climbing o'er the waves that taper make,  
On which the hope of all their lives depends,  
As his on that fair Heros hand extends.   

The ship at anchor like a fixed rock,  
Breaks the proud billows, which her large sides knock;  
Whose rage restrained foaming higher swells,  
And from her port the weary barge repels.  
Threatening to make her forced out again  
Repeat the dangers of the troubled Maine.   

Twice was the cable hurled in vain, the Fates  
Would not be moved for our sister States.  
For England is the third successful throw,  
And then the Genius of that land they know.  
Whose Prince must be (as their own books device)  
Lord of the Scene where now his danger lies.   

Well sung the Roman Bard, all humane things  
Of dearest value hang on slender strings.  
O see the then sole hope, and in design  
Of heaven our joy supported by a line,  
Which for that instant was heavens care above  
The chain that's fixed to the throne of Jove,  
On which the fabric of our world depends;  
One link dissolved the whole creation ends.    

Of his Majesty's receiving the news of the Duke of Buckingham's death.  

SO earnest with thy God can not new care  
Nor sense of danger, interrupt thy prayer?  
The sacred wrestler, till a blessing given,  
Quits not his hold, but halting conquers heaven.  
Nor was the stream of thy devotion stopped  
When from the body such a limb was lop'd,  
As to thy present state was no less maim,  
Though thy wise choice has since repaired the same.  
Bold Homor durst not so great virtue fain  
In his best pattern for Patroclus slain.  
With such amazement as weak mother's use  
And frantic gesture he receives the news.  
Yet fell his darling by th' impartial chance  
Of war imposed by royal Hector's lance.  
Thine in full peace, and by a vulgar hand  
Torn from thy bosom, left his high command.   

The famous Painter could allow no place  
For private sorrow in a Prince's face.  
Yet that his piece might not exceed belief,  
He cast a veil upon supposed grief.  
T' was want of such a precedent as this  
Made the old heathen frame their Gods amiss.  
Their Phoebus should not act a fonder part,  
For the fair boy, than he did for his Hart:  
Nor blame for Hyacinthus fate his own,  
That kept him from wished death, hadst thou been known.   

Yet he that weighs with thine good David's deeds,  
Shall find his passion, not his love exceeds.  
He cursed the Mountains where his brave friend died,  
But let's false Ziba with his heir divide:  
Where thy immortal love to thy blessed friends  
Like that of heaven upon the seed descends.  
Such huge extremes inhabit thy great mind  
Godlike unmoved, and yet like woman kind.  
Which of the ancient Poets had not brought  
Our Charles his pedigree from heaven, and taught  
How some bright dame compressed by mighty Jove,  
Produced this mixed Divinity and Love.    

To the King on his Navy.  

Where ere thy Navy spreads her canvas wings  
Homage to thee, and peace to all she brings  
The French and Spaniard, when thy flags appear  
Forget their hatred, and consent to fear.  
So Jove from Ida did both hosts survey,  
And when he pleased to thunder, part the fray.  
Ships heretofore in seas like fishes sped  
The mightiest still upon the smallest fed.  
Thou on the deep imposest stricter laws,  
And by that justice hast removed the cause  
Of those rude tempests, which for rapine sent  
Too oft (alas) involved the innocent.  
Now shall the Ocean as thy Thames be free  
From both those fates of storms and Piracy.  
But we most happy, who can fear no force  
But winged troops or Pegasean horse.  
'tis not so hard for greedy foes to spoil  
Another nation as to touch our soil.  
Should nature's self invade the world again,  
And o'er the Centre spread the liquid Maine,  
Thy power were safe, and her distractive hand  
Would but enlarge the bounds of thy command.  
Thy dreadful fleet would style thee Lord of all,  
And ride in triumph o'er the drowned ball.  
Those towers of oak o'er fertile plains might go,  
And visit mountains where they once did grow.   

The world's restorer once could not endure  
That finished Babel should those men secure,  
Whose pride designed that fabric to have stood  
Above the reach of any second flood.  
To thee his chosen more indulgent he  
Dares trust such power with so much piety.    

Upon his Majesty's repairing of Paul's.  

THat shipwrackt vessel which th' Apostle bore,  
Scarce suffered more upon Melita's shore,  
Then did his Temple in the sea of time.  
(Our Nations glory, and our Nation's crime)  
When the first Monarch of this happy Isle,  
Moved with the ruin of so brave a pile,  
This work of cost and piety begun,  
To be accomplished by his glorious son,  
Who all that came within the ample thought  
Of his wise Sire, has to perfection brought.   

He like Amphion makes those quarries leap  
Into fair figures from a confused heap:  
For in his art of regiment is found  
A power like that of harmony in sound.  
Those antique minstrels sure were Charles-like Kings,  
Cities their Lutes, and Subjects hearts their strings,  
On which, with so divine a hand they strooke,  
Consent of motion from their breath they took:  
So all our minds with his, conspire, to grace  
The gentiles great Apostle, and deface,  
Those state obscuring sheds, that like a chain,  
Seemed to confine, and fetter him again:  
Which the glad Saint shakes off at his command,  
As once the viper from his sacred hand.  
So joys the aged oak when we divide  
The creeping Ivy from his injured side.   

Ambition rather would effect the fame  
Of some new structure to have borne her name.  
Two distant virtues in one act we find,  
The modesty and greatness of his mind.  
Which not content to be above the rage  
And injury of all impayring age;  
In its own worth secure, doth higher clime,  
And things half swallowed from the jaws of time,  
Reduce an earnest of his grand design,  
To frame no new Church, but the old refine;  
Which spouse-like may with comely grace command  
More then by force of argument or hand:  
For doubtful reason few can apprehend,  
And war brings ruin where it should amend.  
But beauty with a bloodless conquest finds  
A welcome sovereignty in rudest minds.  
Not aught which Sheba's wondering Queen beheld  
Among the works of Solomon excelled  
His Ships and building, Emblems of a heart  
Large both in magnanimity and art.  
While the propitious heavens this work attend,  
Long wanted showers, they forget to fend:  
As if they meant to make it understood  
Of more importance than our vital food.   

The Sun which riseth to salute the Choir  
Already finished, setting shall admire  
How private bounty could so far extend,  
The KING built all but Charles the western end▪  
So proud a Fabric to devotion given,  
At once it threatneth and obligeth Heaven.   

Laomedon that had the Gods in pay,  
Neptune with him that rules the sacred day,  
Can not such structure raise, Troy walled so high,  
Th' Atrideses might as well have forced the sky.   

Glad, though amazed, are our neighbour Kings,  
To see such power employed in peaceful things.  
They list not urge it to the dreadful field:  
The task is easier to destroy, then build.    

To the Queen occasioned upon sight of her Majesty's Picture.  
Well far the hand which to our humble sight  
Presents that beauty, which the dazzling light  
Of Royal splendour hides from weaker eyes,  
And all access (save by this art) denies.  
Here only we have courage to behold  
This beam of glory, here we dare unfold  
In numbers thus the wonders we conceive,  
The gracious Image seeming to give leave,  
Propitious stands vouchsafing to be seen  
And by our Muse saluted▪ MIGHTY QUEEN.  
In whom th'extremes of power and beauty move,  
The Queen of Britain and the Queen of Love.  
As the Bright Sun (to which we own no sight  
Of equal glory to your beauty's light.)  
Is wisely placed in so sublime a seat  
T'extend his light and moderate his heat.  
So happy 'tis you move in such a sphere  
As your high Majesty with awful fear,  
In humane breasts might qualify that fire,  
Which kindled by those eyes had flamed higher.  
Then when the scorched world like hazard run  
By the approach of the ill guided Sun.  
No other nymphs have title to men's hearts  
But as their means larger hope imparts.  
Your beauty more the fondest lover moves  
With admiration then his private loves.  
With admiration, for a pitch so high  
(Save sacred Charles his) never love durst fly.  
Heaven that perfer'd a sceptre to your hand  
Favoured our freedom, more than your command.  
Beauty had Crowned you, and you must have been  
The whole world's Mistress other than a Queen.  
All had been rivals, and you might have spared  
Or killed, and tyraniz'd, without a guard.  
No power atcheiv'd either by arms or birth  
Equals love's Empire both in heaven and earth.  
Such eyes as yours on Jove himself have thrown  
As bright and fierce a lightning as his own.  
Witness our Jove prevented by their flame  
In his swift passage to th' Hesperian dame.  
When like a Lion finding in his way  
To some intended spoil, a fairer prey;  
The Royal youth pursuing the report  
Of beauty found it in the  Court.  
There public care with private passion fought  
A doubtful Combat in his noble thought.  
Should he confess his greatness, and his love,  
And the free faith of your great Brother prove,  
With his Achates breaking through the cloud  
Of that disguise which did their graces shroud,  
And mixing with those gallants at the Ball  
Dance with the Ladies, and outshine them all;  
Or on his journey o'er the mountains ride?  
So when the fair Leucothoe he spied,  
To check his steeds impatient Phoebus earned,  
Though all the world was in his course concerned.  
What may hereafter her meridian do,  
Whose dawning beauty warmed his bosom so?  
Not so divine a flame, since deathless Gods  
Forbore to visit the defiled abodes  
Of men, in any mortal breast did burn;  
Nor shall, till Piety and they return.   

The Apology of Sleep for not approaching the Lady who can do any thing but sleep when she pleaseth.  

MY charge it is those breaches to repair,  
Which nature takes from sorrow toil and care,  
Rest to the limbs, and quiet I confer  
On troubled minds, but nought can add to her,  
Whom heaven & her transcendent thoughts have placed  
Above those ills which wretched mortals taste.   

Bright as the deathles gods, and happy she  
From all that may infringe, delight is free;  
Love at her royal feet his quiver lays,  
And not his mother with more haste obeys  
Such real pleasures, such true joy's suspense,  
What dream can I present to recompense.   

Should I with lightning fill her awful hands,  
And make the Clouds seem, all at her commands;  
Or place her in Olympus' top a guest,  
Among th' immortals, who with Nectar feast;  
That power would seem, that entertainment short  
Of the true splendour of her present Court;  
Where all the joys, and all the glories are  
Of three great Kingdoms severed from the care.   

I that of fumes and humid vapours made,  
Ascending to the seat of sense invade,  
No cloud in so serene a mansion find,  
To overcast her ever shining mind,  
Which holds resemblance with those spotless skies,  
Where flowing Nilus' want of rain supplies.  
That Crystal heaven where Phoebus never shrowds  
His golden beams, nor wrapps his face in clouds.   

But what's so hard which numbers cannot force,  
So stoops the Moon, and rivers change their course.  
The bold Meonian made me dare to steep  
Jove's dreadful tempies in the dew of sleep.  
And since the Muses do invoke my power,  
I shall no more decline that sacred bower;  
Where Gloriana their great mistress lies,  
But gently taming those victorious eyes.  
Charm all her senses, till the joyful Sun  
Without a Rival half his course has run:  
Who while my hand that fairer light confines,  
May boast himself the brightest thing that shines.    

The Country to my Lady of Carlisle.  
Madam,  

OF all the sacred Muse inspired  
Orpheus alone could with the woods comply,  
Their rude inhabitants his song admired,  
And nature's self in those that could not lie.  
Your beauty next our solitude invades  
And warms us, shining through the thickest shades.   

Nor ought the tribute which the wondering Court  
Pays your fair eyes, prevail with you to scorn  
The answer and consent to the report  
Which Echo-like the Country doth return.  
Mirrors are taught to flatter, but our springs  
Present th' impartial images of things.   

A rural Judge disposed of beauty's prize;  
A simple shepherd was preferred to Jove:  
Down to the Mountains from the partial skies  
Came Juno, Pallas, and the Queen of Love,  
To plead for that which was so justly given  
To the bright Carlisle of the Court of heaven.   

Carlisle, a name which all our woods are taught  
Loud as his Amaryllis to resound:  
Carlisle, a name which on the bark is wrought  
Of every tree that's worthy of the wound.  
From Phoebus' rage our shadows and our streams  
May guard us better, then from Carlisles beams.    

The Countess of Carlisle in mourning.  
WHen from black clouds no part of sky is clear,  
But just so much as let's the Sun appear:  
Heaven then would seem thy image, and reflect  
Those sable vestments, and that bright aspect:  
A spark of virtue by the deepest shade  
Of sad adversity is fairer made.  
Nor less advantage doth thy beauty get,  
A Venus rising from a sea of jet.  
Such was th' appearance of new form light  
While yet it struggled with eternal night.  
Then mourn no more lest thou admit increase  
Of glory by thy noble Lords decease.  
We find not that the laughter-loving dame  
Mourned for Anchises, 'twas enough she came,  
To grace the mortal with her deathles bed,  
And that his living eyes such beauty fed.  
Had she been there, untimely joy through all  
men's hearts difused, had marred the funeral.  
Those eyes were made to banish grief; as well  
Bright Phoebus might affect in shades to dwell,  
As they to put on sorrow: nothing stands  
But power to grieve, exempt from thy commands.  
If thou lament, thou must do so alone,  
Grief in thy presence can lay hold on none.  
Yet still persist the memory to love  
Of that great Mercury of our mighty Jove;  
Who by the power of his enchanting tongue  
Swords from the hands of threatening Monarches wrung.  
Warr he prevented, or soon made it cease,  
Instructing Princes in the art of peace.  
Such as made Sheb' as curious Queen resort  
To the large-hearted Hebrews famous Court.  
Had Homer sat among his wondering guests,  
He might have learned at those stupendious feasts,  
With greater bounty and more sacred state  
The banquets of the gods to celebrate.  
But o what elocution might he use,  
What potent charms that could so soon infuse▪  
His absent Master's love into the heart  
Of Henrietta, forcing her to part  
From her loved brother, Country, and the sun,  
And like Camilla o'er the waves to run  
Into his arms, while the Parisian dames  
Mourn for their ravished glory at her flames,  
No less amazed than the amazed stars  
When the bold charmer of Thessalia wars  
With heaven itself, and numbers does repeat  
Which call descending Cynthia from her seat.   

In Answer to a libel against her, etc.  

What fury has provoked thy wit to dare  
With Diomedes to wound the queen of love?  
Thy Mistress envy, or thy own despair,  
Not the just Pallas in thy breast did move  
So blind a rage with such a different fate:  
He honour won, where thou hast purchased hate.   

She gave assistance to his Trojan foe,  
Thou that without a rival thou mayst love,  
Dost to the beauty of this Lady own  
While after her the gazing world does move.  
Canst thou not be content to love alone?  
Or is thy Mistress not content with one?   

Hast thou not read of Tagry Arthur's shield,  
Which but diselosed amazed the weaker eyes,  
Of proudest foe, and won the doubtful field:  
So shall thy rebel with become her prize.  
Should thy iambics swell into a book  
All were confuted with one radiant look.   

Heaven he obliged, that placed her in the skies,  
Rewarding Phoebus for inspiring so  
His noble brain, likening to those eyes  
His joyful beams. But Phoebus is thy so,  
And neither aids they fancy, nor thy sight:  
So ill thou rhim'st against so fair a light.    

On my Lady Dorothy Sidneys Picture.  
SUch was Philoclea's, such Dorus' flame,  
The matchless Sidney that immortal frame  
Of perfect beauty on two pillars placed  
Not his high fancy, could one pattern graced  
With such extremes of excellence compose  
Wonders so distant in one face disclose.  
Such cheerful modesty, such humble State  
Moves certain love, but with a doubtful fate.  
As when beyond our greedy reach we see  
Inviting fruit on too sublime a tree.  
All the rich flowers through his Arcadia found  
Amazed we see in this one garland bound.  
Had but this copy which the Artist took  
From the fair picture of that noble book,  
Stood at Calanders', the brave friends had jared  
And rivals made th' ensuing story marred:  
Just nature first instructed by his thought  
In his own house thus practised what he taught.  
This glorious piece transcends what he could think:  
So much his blood is nobler than his Ink.   

To Vandike.  

RAre Artisan, whose pencil moves  
Not our delight alone, but Loves;  
From thy shop of beauty we  
Slaves return, that entered free.  
The heedless lover does not know  
Whose eyes they are that wound him so:  
But confounded with thy art  
Inquires her name that has his heart.  
Another who did long refrain,  
Feels his old wounds bleed fresh again  
With dear remembrance of that face  
Where now he reads new hopes of grace,  
Nor scorn, nor cruelty does find,  
But gladly suffers a false wind  
To blow the ashes of despair  
From the reviving brand of care:  
Fool that forgets her stubborn look;  
This softness, from thy finger took.  
Strange that thy hand should not inspire  
The beauty only, but the fire;  
Not the form alone and grace,  
But act and power of a face.  
Mayst thou yet thyself aswell  
As all the world beside excel,  
So youth ' unfeigned truth rehearse  
(That I may make it live in verse)  
Why thou couldst not at one assay  
That face to after times convey,  
Which this admires: was it thy wit  
To make her oft before thee sit?  
Confess, and we'll forgive thee this;  
For who would not repeat that bliss,  
And frequent fight of such a Dame  
Buy with the hazard of his fame.  
Yet who can tax thy blameless skill,  
Though thy good hand had failed still;  
When Nature's self so often erers?  
She for this many thousand years  
Seems to have practised with much care  
To frame the race of women fair,  
Yet never could a perfect birth  
Produce before to grace the earth:  
Which waxed old, ere it could see  
Her that amazed thy art and thee.   

But now 'tis done, o let me know  
Where those immortal colours grow,  
That could this deathless piece compose  
In Lilies, or the fading rose.  
No, for this theft thou hast climbed higher  
Than did Prometheus for his fire.    

At Pens-hurst.  

While in this Park I sing, the listening Deer  
Attend my passion, and forget to fear.  
When to the Beeches I report my flame,  
They bow their heads as if they felt the same.  
To God's appealing when I reach their bows  
With loud complaints, they answer me in shows.  
To thee a wild and cruel soul is given,  
More deaf than trees, and prouder than the heaven▪  
Loves foe professed, why dost thou falsely feign  
Thyself a Sidney, from which noble strain  
He sprung, that could so far exalt the name  
Of Love, and warm our Nation with his flame,  
That all we can of Love or high desire  
Seems but the smoke of amorous Sidneys fire?  
Nor call her Mother, who so well does prove  
One breast may hold both Chastity and Love.  
Never can she that so exceeds the spring  
In joy and bounty, be supposed to bring  
One so destructive: to no humane stock  
We own this fierce unkindness, but the rock:  
That cloven rock produced thee, by whose side  
Nature to recompense the fatal pride  
Of such stern beauty, placed those healing springs,  
Which not more help, than that destruction brings.  
Thy heart no ruder than that ragged stone  
I might like Orpheus with my numerous moan  
Melt to compassion, now my traitorous song  
With thee conspires to do the singer wrong,  
While thus I suffer not myself to lose  
The memory of what augments my woes;  
But with my own breath still foment the fire  
Which flames as high as fancy can aspire.   

This last complaint th' indulgent ears does pierce  
Of just Apollo precedent of verse,  
Highly concerned that the Muse should bring  
Damage to one whom he had taught to sing.  
Thus he advised me, On you aged tree  
Hang up thy Lute, and high thee to the Sea,  
That there with wonders thy diverted mind  
Some truce at least may with affection find.   

Ah cruel Nymph, from whom her humble swain  
Flies for relief unto the raging maine!  
And from the winds and tempests doth expect  
A milder fate than from her cold neglect!  
Yet there he'll pray that the unkind may prove  
Blest in her choice, and vows this endless love  
Springs from no hope of what she can confer,  
But from those gifts which heaven has heaped on her.    

At Pens-hurst.  

HAd Dorothea lived when Mortals made  
Choice of their Deities, this sacred shade  
Had held an altar to the power that gave  
The peace and glory which these Allies have;  
Embroidered so with flowers where she stood,  
That it became a garden of a wood.  
Their presence has such more than humane grace  
That it can civilize the rudest place:  
And beauty too and order can impart,  
Where nature ne'er intended it, nor art.  
The plants acknowledge this, and her admire  
No less than those of old did Orpheus' Lyre.  
If she sit down, with tops all towards her bowed  
They round about her into Arbours crowed.  
Or if she walk, in even ranks they stand  
Like some well marshaled and obsequious band.  
Amphion so made stones and timber leap  
Into fair figures from a confused heap.  
And in the symmetry of her parts is found  
A power like that of harmony in sound.   

Ye lofty Beeches tell this matchless dame  
That if together ye fed all one flame,  
It could not equalise the hundreth part  
Of what her eyes have kindled in my heart.  
Go boy and carve this passion on the bark  
Of yonder tree, which stands the sacred mark  
Of noble Sidneys birth, when such benign,  
Such more than mortall-making stars did shine,  
That there they cannot but for ever prove  
The monument and pledge of humble love:  
His humble love, whose hope shall ne'er rise higher,  
Then for a pardon that he dares admire.    

To my Lord of Leicester.  

NOt that thy trees at Penhurst groan  
Oppressed with their timely load,  
And seem to make their silent moan,  
That their great Lord is now abroad,  
That to delight his taste or eye  
Would spend themselves in fruit and die.   

Not that thy harmless Deer repine,  
And think themselves unjustly slain  
By any other hand than thine,  
Whose arrows they would gladly stain.  
No nor thy friends which hold too dear  
That peace with France which keeps thee there.   

All these are less than that great cause,  
Which now exacts your presence here,  
Wherein there meet the divers laws  
Of public and domestic care:  
For one bright Nymph our youth contends,  
And on your prudent choice depends.   

Not the bright shield of Thetis son,  
For which such stern debate did rise,  
That the great Aiax Talamon  
Refused to live without the prize;  
Those Achive Peers did more engage,  
Then she the Gallants of our age,   

That beam of beauty which begun  
To warm us so, when thou wert here,  
Now scorches like the raging Sun  
When Sirius does first appear.  
O fix this flame, and let despair  
Redeem the rest from endless care.    

To my young Lady Lucy Sidney.  

Why came I so untimely forth  
Into a world which wanting thee  
Can entertain us with no worth  
Or shadow of felicity?  
That times should me so far remove  
From that which I was borne to love?   

Yet fairest blossom do not slight  
That age which you must know so soon,  
The rosy morn resigns her light  
And milder glory to the Noon;  
And than what wonders shall you do  
Whose dawning beauty warms us so?   

Hope waits upon the flowery prime;  
And summer though it be less gay,  
Yet is not looked on as a time  
Of declination or decay:  
For with a full hand that doth bring  
All that was promised by the spring.    

Of the Lady who can sleep when she pleases.  
NO wonder sleep from careful Lovers flies  
To bathe himself in Sacharissa's eyes;  
As fair Astraea once from earth to heaven  
By strife and loud impiety was driven;  
So with our plaints offended, and our tears,  
Wise Somnus to that Paradise repairs,  
Waits on her will, and wretches does forsake  
To court the Nymph for whom those wretches wake  
More proud than Phoebus of his throne of gold  
Is the soft God, those softer limbs to hold,  
Nor would exchange with Jove to hid the skies  
In darkening clouds the power to close her eyes:  
Eyes, which so fare all other lights control:  
They warm our mortal parts, but these our soul.  
Let her free spirit, whose unconquered breast  
Holds such deep quiet, and untroubled rest,  
Know, that though Venus and her Son should spare  
Her rebel heart, and never teach her care;  
Yet Hymen may enforce her Vigils keep,  
And for another's joy suspend her sleep.   

Of the misreport of her being painted.  
AS when a sort of Wolves infest the night  
With their wild howl at fair Cynthia's light,  
The noise may chase sweet slumber from our eyes,  
But never reach the Mistress of the skies:  
So with the news of Sacharissa's wrongs,  
Her vexed servants blame those envious tongues,  
Call love to witness that no painted fire  
Can scorch men so, or kindle such desire;  
While unconcerned she seems moved no more  
With this new malice, than our loves before:  
But from the height of her great mind looks down  
On both our passions without smile or frown;  
So little care of what is done below  
Hath the bright Dame, whom heaven affecteth so,  
Paints her 'tis true, with the same hand which spreads  
Like glorious colours through the flowery meads,  
When lavish Nature with her best attire  
 the gay Spring, the season of desire.  
Paints her 'tis true, and does her cheek adorn  
With the same art wherewith she paints the morn,  
With the same art, wherewith she guildeth so  
Those painted clouds which form Thaumantia's bow.   

Of her passing through a crowd of people.  
AS in old Chaos, heaven with earth confused,  
And stars with rocks together crushed & bruised,  
The Sun his light no farther could extend  
Then the next hill which on his shoulders leaned;  
So in this throng bright Sacharissa fared,  
Oppressed by those who strove to be her guard.  
As ships, though never so obsequious, fall  
Foul in a tempest on their Admiral;  
A greater favour this disorder brought  
Unto her servants, than their awful thought  
Durst entertain, when thus compelled they pressed  
The yielding Marble of her snowy breast,  
While Love insults disguised in the cloud,  
And welcome force of the unruly crowd:  
So th'amorous tree, while yet the air is calm,  
Just distance keeps from his desired Palm;  
But when the wind her ravished branches throws  
Into his arms, and mingles all their boughs,  
Though loath he seems her tender leaves to press,  
More loath he is the friendly storm should cease,  
From whose rude bounty he the double use  
At once receives, of pleasure and excuse.   

Song.  

SAy lovely dream, where couldst thou find  
Shales to counterfeit that face;  
Colours of this glorious kind  
Come not from any mortal place.   

In heaven itself thou sure wert dressed  
With that Angellike disguise:  
Thus deluded am I blest,  
And see my joy with closed eyes.   

But ah! this image is too kind  
To be other than a dream,  
Cruel Sacharissa's mindo  
Never put on that sweet extreme.   

Fair dream, if thou intendest me grace,  
Change this heavenly form of thine,  
Paint despised love in thy face,  
And make it to appear like mine,   

Pale, wan, and meager, let it look  
With a pity-moving shape,  
Such as wander by the brook  
Of Lethe, or from graves escape.   

Then to that matchless Nymph appear,  
In whose shape thou shinest so;  
Softly in her sleeping ear,  
With humble words express my woe.   

Perhaps from greatness, state and pride,  
Thus surprised she may fall;  
Sleep does disproportion hid,  
And death resembling equals all.    

Song.  

BEhold the brand of beauty tossed,  
See how the motion does dilate the flame,  
Delighted Love his spoils does boast,  
And triumph in this game:  
Fire to no place confined,  
Is both our wonder, and our fear,  
Moving the mind  
Like lightning hurled through the air.   

High heaven the glory does increase  
Of all her shining Lamps this artful way;  
The Sun in figures such as these  
Joys with the Moon to play;  
To these sweet strains they advance,  
Which do result from their own spheres,  
As this Nymphs dance  
Moves with the numbers which she hears.    

TO AMORETTA.  

Fair, that you may truly know  
What you unto Thirsis owe,  
I will tell you how I do  
Sacharissa love and you.   

Joy salutes me when I set  
My blessed eyes on Amoretta,  
But with wonder I am struck,  
When I on the other look.   

If sweet Amoretta complains,  
I have sense of all her pains;  
But for Sacharissa, I  
Do not only grieve, but die.   

All that of myself is mine,  
Lovely Amoretta, is thine;  
Sacharissa's captive fain  
Would untie his iron chain,  
And those scorching beams to shun,  
To thy gentle shadow run;  
If the soul had free election  
To dispose of her affection,  
I should not thus long have born  
Haughty Sacharissa's scorn,  
But 'tis sure some power above,  
Which controls our will in love,   

If not Love, a strong desire  
To create, and spread that fire  
In my breast solicits me,  
Beauteous Amoretta, for thee.  
'Tis amazement more than love,  
Which her radiant eyes do move;  
If less splendour wait on thine,  
Yet they so benignly shine,  
I would turn my dazzled sight,  
To behold their milder light;  
But as hard 'tis to destroy  
That high flame as to enjoy,  
Which how easily I may do,  
Heaven (as easily scaled) does know.   

Amoretta as sweet and good,  
As the most delicious food;  
Which but tasted does impart  
Life and gladness to the heart;  
Sacharissa's beauties wine,  
Which to madness doth incline;  
Such a liquor as no brain,  
That is mortal, can sustain.  
Scarce can I to heaven excuse  
That devotion which I use  
Unto that adored Dame,  
For 'tis not unlike the same,  
Which I thither aught to send,  
So that if it could take end,  
'Twould to heaven itself be due,  
To succeed her, and not you,  
Who already have of me  
All that's not Idolatry;  
Which though not so fierce a flame,  
Is longer like to be the same:  
Then smile on me, and I will prove,  
Wonder is shorter lived than Love.    

The story of Phoebus and Daphne applied, etc.  
THirsis a youth of the inspired train,  
Fair Sacharissa loved, but loved in vain;  
Like Phoebus sung, the no less amorous boy;  
Like Daphne, she as lovely and as coy;  
With numbers, he the flying Nymph pursues,  
With numbers, such as Phoebus' self might use;  
Such is the chase, when love and fancy leads  
Over craggy mountains, and through flowery meads,  
Invoked to testify the lover's care,  
Or form some image of his cruel Fair:  
Urged with his fury like a wounded Deer  
O'er these he fled, and now approaching near,  
Had reached the Nymph with his harmonious lay,  
Whom all his charms could not incline to stay.  
Yet what he sung in his immortal strain,  
Though unsuccesful, was not sung in vain,  
All but the Nymph that should redress his wrong,  
Attend his passion, and approve his song.  
Like Phoebus thus acquiring unsought praise,  
He catched at love, and filled his arm with bays.   

Of Mrs. Arden.  

BEhold and listen, while the fair  
Breaks in sweet sounds the willing air,  
And with her own breath fans the fire,  
Which her bright eyes do fixst inspire.  
What reason can that love control  
Which more than one way courts the soul?   

So when a flash of lightning falls  
On our abodes, the danger calls  
For humane aid, which hopes the flame  
To conquer, though from heaven it came.  
But if the wind with that conspire,  
Men strive not, but deplore the fire.    

On the discovery of a Ladies Painting.  

Pygmalions' fate reversed is mine:  
His marble love taken flesh and blood;  
All that I worshipped is divine,  
That beauty now 'tis understood  
Appears to have no more of life,  
Then that whereof he framed his wife.   

As women yet, who apprehend  
Some sudden cause of causeless fear,  
Although that seeming cause take end,  
And they behold no danger near,  
A shaking through their limbs they find,  
Like leaves saluted by the wind:   

●o though the beauty do appear  
No beauty which amazed me so,  
Yet from my breast I cannot tear  
The passion which from hence did grow;  
Nor yet out of my fancy raze  
The print of that supposed face.   

A real beauty (though too near)  
The fond Narcissus did admire:  
I dote on that which is not where,  
The sign of beauty feeds my fire.  
No mortal flame was ere so cruel  
As this which thus survives the fuel.    

To a Lady from whom he received a silver pen.  
Madam,  

INtending to have tried  
The silver favour which you gave,  
In ink the shining point I died,  
And drenched it in the sable wave:  
When grieved to be so foully stained  
On you it thus to me complained:   

Suppose you had deserved to take  
From her fair hand so fair a boon;  
Yet how deserved I to take  
So ill a change, who ever won  
Immortal praise for what I wrought  
Instructed by her noble thought?  
I that expressed her commands   

To mighty Lords and Princely Dames,  
Always most welcome to their hands,  
Proud that I would record their names,  
Must now be taught an humble stile  
Some meaner beauty to beguile.   

So I the wronged Pen to please,  
Make it my humble thanks express  
Unto your Ladyship in these,  
And now 'tis forced to confess,  
That your great self did ne'er indite,  
Nor that to one more noble writ,    

On a breed of divers colours woven by four Ladies.  
TWice twenty slender virgin fingers twine  
This curious web, where all their fancies shine:  
As nature them, so they this shade have wrought,  
Soft as their hands, and various as their thought:  
Not Juno's bird, when his fair train dispred  
He woes the female to his painted bed;  
No not the Bow which so adorns the skies,  
So glorious is, or boasts so many dies.   

On the head of a Stag.  
SO we some antique Hero's strength  
Learn by his Lance's weight and length,  
As these vast beams express the beast,  
Whose shady brows alive they dressed.  
Such game, while yet the world was new,  
The mighty Nimrod did pursue.  
What huntsman of our feeble race,  
Or dogs dare such a monster chase,  
Resembling with each blow he strikes,  
The charge of a whole troop of Pikes?  
O fertile head, which every year  
Can such a crop of wonder bear!  
The teeming Earth did never bring  
●o soon, so hard, so huge a thing.  
Which might it never have been cast,  
Each years growth added to the last,  
Those lofty branches had supplied  
The Earth's bold sons prodigious pride;  
Heaven with these engines had been scaled,  
When Mountains heaped on Mountains failed.   

To a Lady in retirement.  

Seas not, my Love, how time resumes  
The glory which he lent these slowres?  
Though none should taste these sweet perfumes,  
Yet must they live but some few hours;  
Time, what we forbear, devours.   

Had Helen, or th'Aegyptian Queen,  
Been ne'er so thrifty of their graces,  
Those beauties must at length have been  
The spoil of age, which finds out faces  
In the most retired places.   

Should some malignant Planet bring  
A barren drought, or ceasless shower  
Upon the Autumn, or the Spring,  
And spare us neither fruit nor flower,  
Winter would not stay an hour.   

Can the resolve of loves neglect  
Preserve thee from the violation  
Of coming years, then more respect  
Were due to so divine a fashion,  
Nor would I indulge my passion.    

The Miser's speech in a Mask.  
BAlls of this metal slacked Atlanta's pace,  
And on the amorous youth bestowed the race:  
Venus the Nymph's mind measuring by her own,  
Whom the rich spoils of Cities overthrown  
Had prostrated to Mars, could well advise  
Th' adventurous Lover how to gain the prize.  
Nor less may Jupiter to gold ascribe;  
For when he turned himself into a bribe,  
Who can blame Danac, or the brazen tower,  
That they withstood not the almighty shower?  
Never till then did love make Jove put on  
A form more bright and noble than his own;  
Nor were it just, would he resume that shape,  
That slack devotion should his thunder scape:  
'Twas not revenge for grieved Apollo's wrong,  
Those Ass' ears on Mida's temples hung;  
But fond repentance of his happy wish,  
Because his meat grew metal like his dish;  
Would Bacchus bless me so, I'd constant hold  
Unto my wish, and die creating gold.   

To my Lord of Northumberland upon the death of his Lady.  
TO this great loss a sea of tears is due,  
But the whole debt not to be paid by you;  
Charge not yourself with all, nor render vain  
Those showers the eyes of us your servants rain.  
Shall grief contract the largeness of that heart,  
In which nor sear nor anger has a part?  
Virtue would blush, if Time should boast (which dries,  
Her sole child dead, the tender Mother's eyes)  
Your mind's relief, where reason triumphs so  
Over all passions, that they ne'er could grow  
Beyond their limits in your noble breast,  
To harm another, or impeach your rest.  
This we observed delighting to obey  
One who did never from his great self stray,  
Whose mild example seemed to engage  
Th' obsequious seas, and teach them not to rage's.  
The brave Emylius his charge laid down,  
(The force of Rome, and fate of Macedon)  
In his lost sons did feel the cruel stroke  
Of changing fortune; and thus highly spoke:  
Before Rome's people we did of implore,  
That if the heavens had any ill in store  
For your Emylius, they would pour that ill  
On his own house, and let you flourish still:  
You on the barren Seas my Lord have spent  
Whole springs, and summers to the public lent,  
Suspended all the pleasures of your life,  
And shortened the short joy of such a wife:  
For which your country's more obliged, then  
For many lives of old less happy men.  
You that have sacrificed so great a part  
Of youth and private bliss, aught to impart  
Your sorrow too, and give your friends a right  
As well in your affliction, as delight.  
Then with Emylian courage bear this cross,  
Since public persons only public loss  
Ought to affect. And though her form and youth,  
Her application to your will and truth,  
That noble sweetness and that humble state,  
All snatched away by such a hasty fate,  
Might give excuse to any common breast  
With the huge weight of so just grief oppressed;  
Yet let no portion of your life be stained  
With passion, but your character maintained  
To the last act; it is enough her stone  
May honoured be with superscription  
Of the sole Lady who had power to move  
The great Northumberland to grieve and love.   

To my Lord Admiral, of his late sickness and recovery.  

With joy like ours the Thracian youth invades  
Orpheus returning from th' Elysian shades,  
Embrace the Hero, and his stay implore,  
Make it their public suit he would no more  
Desert them so, and for his spouses' sake  
His vanished Love tempt the Lethean lake:  
The Ladies too, the brightest of that time,  
Ambitious all his lofty bed to climb,  
Their doubtful hopes with expectation feed,  
Who shall the fair Eurydice succeed:  
Eurydice, for whom his numerous moan  
Makes listening trees, and savage mountains groan,  
Through all the air his sounding strings dilate  
Sorrow like that, which touched our hearts of late,  
Your pining sickness, and your restless pain  
At once the Land affecting, and the Main;  
When the glad news that you were Admiral  
Scarce through the Nation spread, 'twas feared by all  
That our great Charles, whose wisdom shines in you,  
Would be perplexed how to choose a new:  
So more than private was the joy and grief,  
That at the worst it gave our souls relief,  
That in our age such sense of virtue lived,  
They joyed so justly, and so justly grieved.   

Nature, her fairest lights eclipsed, seems  
Herself to suffer in those sharp extremes,  
While not from thine alone thy blood retires,  
But from those cheeks which all the world admires:  
The stem thus threatened and the sap in thee  
Droop all the branches of that noble tree;  
Their beauty they, and we our loves suspend,  
Nought can our wishes save thy health intent.   

As Lilies overcharged with rain, they bend  
Their beauteous heads, and with high heaven contend,  
Fold thee within their snowy arms, and cry,  
He is too faultless, and too young to die;  
So like Immortals round about thee they  
Sat, that they fright approaching death away:  
Who would not languish by so fair a train,  
To be lamented, and restored again?  
Or thus withheld, what hasty soul would go,  
Though to the blessed? O'er young Adonis so  
Fair Venus mourned, and with the precious shower  
Of her warm tears cherished the springing flower.   

The next support fair hope of your great name,  
And second pillar of that noble frame,  
By loss of thee would no advantage have,  
But step by step pursues thee to the grave.   

And now relentless Fate about to end  
The line, which backward does so fare extend  
That Antique stock, which still the world supplies  
With bravest spirits, and with brightest eyes;  
Kind Phoebus interposing bid me say,  
Such storms no more shall shake that house, but they  
Like Neptune and his Seaborn Niece shall be  
The shining glories of the land and Sea,  
With courage guard, and beauty warm our Age,  
And lovers fill with like Poetic rage.    

On the friendship betwixt Sacharissa and Amoretta.  

TEll me, lovely loving Pair,  
Why so kind, and so severe?  
Why so careless of our care,  
Only to yourselves so dear?   

By this cunning change of hearts,  
You the power of Love control,  
While the Boys deluded darts  
Can arrive at neither's soul.   

For in vain to either breast  
Still beguiled Love does come,  
Where he finds a foreign guest,  
Neither of your hearts at home;   

Debtors thus with like design,  
When they never mean to pay,  
That they may the law decline,  
To some friend make all away.   

Not the silver Doves that fly,  
Yoked in Cytharea's Car;  
Not the wings that lift so high,  
And convey her son so fare,   

Are so lovely sweet and fair,  
Or do more ennoble Love,  
Are so choicely matched a pair,  
Or with more consent do move.    

A la Malade.  

AH lovely Amoretta, the Care  
Of all that know what's good or fair,  
Is Heaven become our Rival too?  
Had the rich Gifts conferred on you  
So amply thence, the common end  
Of giving Lovers, to pretend?   

Hence to this pining Sickness (meant  
To weary thee to a consent  
Of leaving us) no power is given  
Thy Beauties to impair, for Heaven  
Solicits thee with such a care:  
As Roses from their stalks we tore,  
When we would still preserve them new  
And fresh, as on the bush they grew.   

With such a grace you entertain,  
And look with such contempt on pain,  
That languishing you conquer more,  
And wound us deeper than before.  
The lightnings which in storms appear.  
Scorch more than when the skies are clear.  
And as pale sickness does invade  
Your frailer part, the breaches made  
In that fair Lodging still more clear  
Make the bright Guest your Soul appear:  
So Nymphs o'er pathless Mountains born,  
Their light robes by the Brambles torn  
From their fair limbs, exposing new  
And unknown Beauties to the view  
Of following Gods, increase their flame,  
And hast to catch the flying Game.    

Of her Chamber.  

THey taste of Death that do at Heaven arrive,  
But we this Paradise approach alive:  
In stead of Death, the dart of Love does strike,  
And renders all within these walls alike:  
The high in titles, and the Shepherd here,  
Forgets his greatness, and forgets his fear:  
All stand amazed, and gazing on the Fair  
Lose thought of what themselves or others are,  
Ambition lose, and have no other scope  
Save Carlisles favour to employ their hope.  
The Thracian could (though all those tales were true  
The bold Greeks tell) no greater wonders do;  
Before his feet so Sheep and Lions lay  
Fearless and wrathless, while they heard him play;  
The Gay, the Wise, the Gallant, and the Grave,  
Subdued alike all but one passion have.  
No worthy mind but finds in hers there is  
Something proportioned to the rule of his;  
While she with cheerful, but impartial grace,  
(Borne for no one, but to delight the race  
Of men) like Phoebus so divides her light,  
And warms us that she stoops not from her height.    

Of loving at first sight.  

NOt caring to observe the wind,  
Or the new Sea explore,  
Snatched from myself, how fare behind  
Already I behold the shore?   

May not a thousand dangers sleep  
In the smooth Bosom of this deep?  
No, 'tis so rockless, and so clear,  
That the rich Bottom does appear  
Paved all with precious things, not torn  
From shipwrackt Vessels, but there born.   

Sweetness, truth, and every grace  
Which Time and Use are wont to teach,  
The eye may in a moment reach,  
And read distinctly in her face.   

Some other Nymph with colours saint  
And pencil slow may Cupid paint,  
And a weak heart in time destroy;  
She has a stamp and prints the Boy,  
Can with a single look inflame  
The coldest breast, the rudest tame.    

The self banished.  

IT is not that I love you less,  
Then when before your feet I lay,  
But to prevent the sad increase  
Of hopeless love, I keep away.   

In vain (alas!) for every thing  
Which I have known belong to you,  
Your form does to my fancy bring,  
And make my old wounds bleed anew.   

Who in the Spring from the new Sun  
Already has a Fever got,  
Too late gins those shafts to shun  
Which Phoebus through his veins has shot.   

Too late he would the pain assuage,  
And to thick shadows does retire;  
About with him he bears the rage,  
And in his tainted blood the fire.   

But vowed I have, and never must  
Your banished servant trouble you;  
For if I break, you may mistrust  
The vow I made to love you too.    

Of, and to the Queen.  

THe Lark that shun's on lofty boughs to build  
Her humble nest, lies silent in the field;  
But if the promise of a cloudless day  
(Aurora smiling) bids her rise and play,  
Then strait she shows 'twas not for want of voice  
Or power to climb she made so low a choice;  
Singing she mounts, her airy wings are stretched  
Towards heaven, as if from heaven her note she fetched.   

So we retiring from the busy throng,  
Use to restraine●th ' ambition of our song;  
But since the light which now informs our Age  
Breaks from the Court indulgent to her rage,  
Thither my Muse, like bold Prometheus, flies  
To light her torch at Gloriana's eyes,  
Those sovereign beams, which heal the wounded soul,  
And all our cares, but once beheld, control:  
There the poor lover that has long endured  
Some proud Nymphs scorn, of his fond passion cured,  
Fares like the man who first upon the ground  
A glow-worm spied, supposing he had found  
A moving diamond, a breathing stone,  
(For life it had, and like those Jewels shone)  
He held it dear, till by the springing day  
Informed, he threw the worthless worm away.   

She saves the Lover, as we Gangrenes stay,  
By cutting hope, like a lopped limb, away▪  
This makes her bleeding Patients to accuse  
High heaven, and these expostulations use:  
Can nature then no private woman grace  
(Whom we might dare to love) with such a face,  
Such a complexion, and so radiant eyes,  
Such lovely motion, and such sharp replies?  
Beyond our reach, and yet within our sight,  
What envious power has placed this glorious light?   

Thus in a starry night fond Children cry  
For the rich spangles that adorn the sky;  
Which though they shine for ever fixed there,  
With light and influence relieve us here.  
All her affections are to one inclined,  
Her bounty and compassion to mankind;  
To whom while she so far extends her Grace,  
She makes but good the promise of her face:  
For Mercy has (could Mercy's self be seen)  
No sweeter look, than this propitious Queen;  
Such guard and comfort the distressed find  
From her large power, and from her larger mind,  
That whom ill Fate would ruin, it prefers,  
For all the miserable are made hers.   

So the fair Tree whereon the Eagle builds,  
Poor sheep from tempest and their shepherd shields,  
The Royal bird possesses all the boughs,  
But shade and shelter to the flock allows.   

Joy of our Age, and safety of the next,  
For which so oft thy fertile womb is vexed,  
Nobly contented for the public good  
To waste thy spirits, and diffuse thy blood,  
What vast hopes may these Lands entertain  
Where Monarches thus descended are to reign?  
Led by Commanders of so fair a line  
Our seas no longer shall our power confine.   

A brave Romance who would exactly frame,  
First brings his Knight from some immortal Dame,  
And then a weapon and a flaming shield  
Bright as his mother's eyes he makes him wield:  
None might the mother of Achilles be  
But the fair Pearl and Glory of the Sea:  
The man to whom great Maro gives such fame,  
From the high bed of heavenly Venus came;  
And our next Charles (whom all the stars design  
Like wonders to accomplish) springs from thine.    

Song.  

Go lovely Rose,  
Tell her that wastes her time and me,  
That now she knows,  
When I resemble her to thee,  
How sweet and fair she seems to be.   

Tell her that's young,  
And shun's to have her grâces spied,  
That hadst thou sprung  
In deserts where no men abide,  
Thou must have uncommended died.   

Small is the worth  
Of beauty from the light retired:  
Bid her come forth,  
Suffer herself to be desired,  
And not blush so to be admired.   

Then die, that she  
The common fate of all things rare  
May read in thee,  
How small a part of time they share,  
That are so wondrous sweet and fair.    

Thirsis. Galatea.  

AS lately I on silver Thames did ride,  
Sad Galatea on the bank I spied;  
Such was her look, as sorrow taught to shine,  
And thus she graced me with a voice divine:   Gal. 
You that can tune your sounding strings so well  
Of Lady's beauties, and of Love to tell,  
Once change your note, and let your Lute report  
The justest grief that ever touched the Court.  Th. 
Fair Nymph, I have in your delights no share,  
Nor ought to be concerned in your care;  
Yet would I sing, if I your sorrows knew,  
And to my aid invoke no Muse but you.  Gal. 
Hear then, and let your song augment our grief,  
Which is so great as not to wish relief;  
She that had all which Nature gives or Chance,  
Whom Fortune joined with Virtue to advance  
To all the joys this Island could afford,  
The greatest Mistress, and the kindest Lord;  
Who with the royal mixed her noble blood,  
And in high grace with Gloriana stood,  
Her bounty, sweetness, beauty, goodness such,  
That none ere thought her happiness too much,  
So well inclined her favours to conser,  
And kind to all as heaven had been to her.  
The virgin's part, the mother and the wife  
So well she acted in this span of life,  
That though few years (too few, alas!) she told  
She seemed in all things, but in beauty, old.  
As unripe fruit, whose verdant stalk does cleave  
Close to the tree, which grieves no less to leave  
The smiling pendant which adorns her so,  
And until Autumn on the bough should grow:  
So seemed her youthful Soul not easily forced,  
Or from so fair, so sweet a seat divorced;  
Her Fate at once did hasty seem and slow,  
At once too cruel and unwilling too.  Th. 
Under how hard a law are Mortals born!  
Whom now we envy, we anon must mourn:  
What heaven sets highest, and seems most to prize,  
Is soon removed from our wondering eyes.  
But since the Sisters did so soon untwine  
So fair a thread, I'll strive to piece the line:  
Vouchsafe (sad Nymph) to let me know the Dame,  
And to the Muses I'll commend her name:  
Make the wide Country echo to your moan,  
The listening trees and savage mountains groan;  
What rocks not moved, when the death is sung  
Of one so good, so lovely, and so young?  Gal. 
'Twas Hamilton, whom I had named before,  
But naming her, grief lets me say no more.   

Fabula Phoebi & Daphnes.  
ARcadiae juvenis Thirsis, Phoebique sacerdos,  
Ingenti frustra Galateae ardebat amore:  
Haud deus ipse olim Daphne majora canebat,  
Nec fuit asperior Daphne, nec pulchrior illa.  
Carminibus Phoebo dignis premit ille fugacem  
Per rupes, per saxa volans, per florida vates  
Pascua, formosam nunc his componere Nympham,  
Nunc illis erudelem insana ment solebat:  
Audiit illa procul miserum, citharamque sonantem  
Audiit, at nullis respexit mota querelis.  
Ne tamen omnino caneret desertus, ad alta  
Sidera perculsi referunt nova carmina montes:  
Sic non quaesitis cumulatus laudibus olim  
Elapsa, reperit Daphne sua laurea Phoebus.   

The Battle of the Summer Islands.  

CANTO I. What fruit they have, and how heaven smiles Upon those late discovered Isles.  

Aid me, Bellona, while the dreadful fight  
Betwixt a Nation and two Whales I writ;  
Seas stained with gore I sing, adventurous toil,  
And how these Monsters did disarm an Isle.   

Bermudas walled with rocks who does not know,  
That happy Island where huge Lemons grow,  
And Orange trees, which golden fruit do bear?  
Th' Hesperian garden boasts of none so fair.  
There shining Pearl, Coral, and many a pound  
On the rich shore of Ambergris is found:  
The lofty Cedar, which to heaven aspires,  
The Prince of trees, is fuel for their fires:  
The smoke by which their loaded spits do turn,  
For incense might on sacred Altars burn;  
Their private roofs on odorous timber born,  
Such as might Palaces for Kings adorn:  
The sweet Palmetta's a new Bacchus yield  
With leaves as ample as the broadest shield;  
Under the shadow of whose friendly boughs  
They sit carousing where their liquor grows:  
Figs there unplanted through the fields do grow,  
Such as fierce Cato did the Romans show,  
With the rare fruit inviting them to spoil  
Carthage, the Mistress of so rich a spoil:  
The naked rocks are not unfruitful there,  
But at some constant seasons every year  
Their barren tops with luscious food abound,  
And with the eggs of various fowls are crowned:  
Tobacco is their worst of things which they  
To English landlords as their tribute pay:  
Such is the mould, that the blessed tenant feeds  
On precious fruits, and pays his rent in weeds:  
With candid Plantines, and the ivy Pine,  
On choicest Melons and sweet grapes they dine,  
And with Potatoes fat their wanton swine.  
Nature these Cates with such a lavish hand  
Powers out among them, that our courser land  
Tastes of that bounty, and does cloth return,  
Which not for warmth, but ornament is worn:  
For the kind spring, which but salutes us here,  
Inhabits there, and courts them all the year:  
Ripe fruits and blossoms on the same trees live,  
At once they promise what at once they give.  
So sweet the air, so moderate the clime.  
None sickly lives or dies before his time.  
Heaven, sure, has kept this spot of earth uncurst,  
To show how all things were created first.  
The tardy plants in our could orchards placed  
Reserve their fruits for the next ages taste;  
There a small grain in some few months will be  
A firm, a lofty, and a spacious tree.  
The Palma-Christi and the fair Papah,  
Now but a seed, (preventing nature's law)  
In half the circle of the hasty year  
Project a shade, and lovely fruit do wear.  
And as their trees in our dull region set  
But faintly grow, and no perfection get;  
So in this Northern tract our hoarser throats  
Utter unripe and ill constrained notes,  
Where the supporter of the Poet's stile,  
Phoebus, on them eternally does smile.  
O how I long my careless limbs to lay  
Under a Plantanes shade, and all the day  
With amorous airs my fancy entertain,  
Invoke the Muses, and improve my vain!  
No passion there in my free breast should move,  
None, but the sweet and best of passions, Love:  
There while I sing, if gentle love be by,  
That tunes my Lute, and winds the strings so high  
With the sweet sound of Sacharissa's name,  
I'll make the listening savages grow tame.   

But while I do these pleasing dreams indite,  
I am diverted from the promised fight.    

CANTO II. Of their affright, and how their foes Discovered were, this Canto shows.  

THough rocks so high about this Island rise,  
That well they may the numerous Turk despise;  
Yet is no humane fate exempt from fear,  
Which shakes their hearts, while through the Isle they hear  
A lasting noise, as horrid, and as loud  
As thunder makes before it breaks the cloud:  
Three days they dread this murmur, ere they know  
From what blind cause th' unwoted sound may grow;  
At length two Monsters of unequal size,  
Hard by the shore, a fisherman espies,  
Two mighty Whales, which swelling seas had tossed,  
And left them prisoners on the rocky coast:  
One as a mountain vast, and with her came  
A Cub, not much inferior to his Dam;  
Here in a pool among the rocks engaged  
They roared like Lions caught in toils, and raged.  
The man knew what they were, who heretofore  
Had seen the like lie murdered on the shore,  
By the wild fury of some tempest cast,  
The fate of ships, and shipwrecked men to taste.  
As careless Dames, whom wine and sleep betray  
To frantic dreams, their infants overly;  
So there sometimes the raging Ocean fails,  
And her own brood exposes, when the Whales  
Against sharp rocks, like reeling vessels quashed,  
Though huge as mountains, are in pieces dashed:  
Along the shore their dreadful limbs lie scattered,  
Like hills with earthquakes shaken, torn & shattered.  
Heart's sure of brass they had, who tempted first  
Rude Seas, that spare not what themselves have nursed.   

The welcome news through all the nation spread,  
To sudden joy and hope converts their dread.  
What lately was their public terror, they  
Behold with glad eyes as a certain prey,  
Dispose already of th' untaken spoil;  
And as the purchase of their future toil,  
These share the bones, and they divide the oil.  
So was the huntsman by the Bear oppressed,  
Whose hide he fold before he caught the beast.   

They man their boats, and all their young men arm  
With whatsoever may the monsters harm,  
Pikes, Holdberts, Spits, and Darts that wound so far,  
The tools of peace and instruments of war:  
Now was the time for vigorous lads to show  
What love or honour could invite them to:  
A goodly theatre, where rocks are round;  
With reverend age, and lovely lasses crowned,  
Such was the lake, which held this dreadful ,  
Within the bounds of noble Warwick's share;  
Warwick's bold Earl, than which no title bears  
A greater sound among our British Peers;  
And worthy he the memory to renew,  
The fate and honour to that title due,  
Whose brave adventures have transferred his name,  
And through the New-world spread his growing fame.  
But how they fought, and what their valour gained,  
Shall in another Canto be contained.    

CANTO III. The bloody fight, successlesse toil, And how the fishes sacked the Jsle.  

THe boat which on the first assault did go,  
Struck with a harping-iron the younger foe;  
Who when he felt his side so rudely gored,  
Loud as the Sea that nourished him, he roared.  
As a broad bream, to please some curious taste,  
While yet alive, in boiling water cast,  
Vexed with unwonted heat, bounds, flings about  
The scorching brass, and hurls the liquor out:  
So with the barbed javelin stung, he raves  
And scourges with his tail the suffering waves:  
Like Fairy Talus with his iron flail,  
He threatens ruin with his ponderous tail,  
Dissolving at one stroke the battered boat,  
And down the men fall drenched in the moat:  
With every fierce encounter they are forced  
To quit their boats, and far like men unhoist:  
The bigger Whale like some huge carrack lay  
Which wanteth Sea-room with her foes to play,  
Slowly she swims, and when provoked she would  
Advance her tail, her head salutes the mud;  
The shallow water doth her force infringe,  
And renders vain her tails impetuous swinge;  
The shining steel her tender sides receive,  
And there like bees they all their weapons leave.   

This sees the Cub, and does himself oppose  
Betwixt his cumbered mother and her foes,  
With  courage he receives her wounds,  
And men and boats his active tail confounds;  
Their furies joined the Seas with billows fill,  
And make a tempest, though the winds be still.   

Now would the men with half their hoped prey  
Be well content, and wished this Cub away;  
Their wish they have, He to direct his Dam  
Unto the gap, through which they thither came,  
Before her swims, and quits the hostile Lake;  
A prisoner there but for his Mother's sake;  
She by the rocks compelled to stay behind,  
Is by the vastness of her bulk confined:  
They shout for joy, and now on her alone  
Their fury falls, and all their Darts are thrown:  
Their Lances spent, One bolder than the rest  
With his broad sword provokes the sluggish beast;  
Her oily side devours both blade and heft,  
And there his steel the bold Bermudian left.  
Courage the rest from his example take,  
And now they change the colour of the Lake,  
Blood flows in rivers from her wounded side,  
As if they would prevent the tardy tide,  
And raise the flood to that propitious height,  
As might convey her from this fatal straight;  
She swims in blood, and blood does spouting throw  
To heaven, that heaven men's cruelties might know;  
Their fixed Javelins in her side she wears,  
And on her back a grove of Pikes appears:  
You would have thought, had you the Monster seen  
Thus dressed, she had another Island been.  
Roaring she tears the air with such a noise  
(As well resembled the conspiring voice  
Of routed armies, when the field is won)  
To reach the ears of her escaped Son:  
He (though a league removed from the so)  
Hasts to her aid: the pious Trojan so,  
Neglecting for Creusa's life his own,  
Repeats the danger of the burning town.  
The men amazed blush to see the seed  
Of Monsters, humane piety exceed.  
Well proves this kindness what the Grecians sung,  
That Loves bright Mother from the Ocean sprung.  
Their courage droops, and hopeless now they wish  
For composition with th'unconquered Fish;  
So she their weapons would restore again,  
Through rocks they'd hue her passage to the Main:  
But how instructed in each others mind,  
Or what commerce can men with Monsters find?  
Not daring to approach their wounded so,  
Whom her courageous Son protected so,  
They charge their Muskets, and with hot desire  
Of fell revenge, renew the fight with fire;  
Standing aloof with Lead the bruise the scales,  
And tear the flesh of the incensed Whales;  
But no success their fierce endeavours found,  
Nor this way could they give one fatal wound.  
Now to their Forts they are about to send  
For the loud Engines which their Isle defend;  
But what those pieces framed to batter Walls,  
Would have effected on those mighty Whales,  
Great Neptune will not have us know, who sends  
A tide so high that it relieves his friends:  
And thus they parted with exchange of harms;  
Much blood the Monsters lost, and they their arms.     

Upon the death of my Lady Rich.  

MAy those already cursed Essexian plains,  
Where hasty Death, and pining sickness reigns▪  
Prove all a Desert, and none there make stay  
But savage beasts, or men as wild as they:  
There the fair light, which all our Island graced;  
Like Hero's Taper in the windows placed,  
Such fate from the malignant air did find,  
As that exposed to the boisterous wind.   

Ah cruel heaven to snatch so soon away  
Her, for whose life had we had time to pray,  
With thousand vows and tears we should have sought  
That sad decree's suspension to have wrought!  
But we (alas!) no whisper of her pain  
Herd, till 'twas sin to wish her here again.  
That horrid word at once like lightning spread,  
Struck all our ears: The Lady Rich is dead.  
Heartrending news, and dreadful to those few  
Who her resemble, and her steps pursue,  
That Death should licence have to rage among  
The fair, the wise, the virtuous, and the young.   

The Paphian Queen from that fierce battle born  
With gored hand, and Veil so rudely torn,  
Like terror did among th'Immortals breed,  
Taught by her wound that God desses might bleed.  
All stand amazed, but beyond the rest  
Th'heroic Dame, whose happy womb she blest,  
Moved with just grief expostulates with heaven,  
Urging that promise to th'obsequious given  
Of longer life; for ne'er was pious soul  
More apt t'obey, more worthy to control:  
A skilful eye at once might read the race  
Of Caledonian Monarches in her face,  
And sweet humility, her look and mind  
At once were lofty, and at once were kind.  
There dwelled the scorn of vice, and pity too,  
For those that did what she disdained to do;  
So gentle and severe, that what was bad  
At once her hatred and her pardon had;  
Gracious to all, but where her love was due  
So fast, so faithful, loyal, and so true,  
That a bold hand as soon might hope to force  
The rolling lights of heaven, as change her course.   

Some happy Angel that beholds her there,  
Instruct us to record what she was here;  
And when this cloud of sorrow's overblown,  
Through the wide world we'll make her graces known:  
So fresh the wound is, and the grief so vast,  
That all our art and power of speech is waste;  
Here passion sways, but there the Muse shall raise  
Eternal monuments of louder praise.   

There, our delight complying with her fame  
Shall have occasion to recite thy name,  
Fair Sacharissa, and now only fair,  
To sacred friendship we'll an Altar rear,  
Such as the Romans did erect of old,  
Where on a Marble pillar shall be told  
The lovely passion each to other bare,  
With the resemblance of that matchless .  
Narcissus to the thing for which he pined,  
Was not more like, then yours to her fair mind;  
Save that you graced the several parts of life,  
A spotless Virgin, and a faultless wife;  
Such was the sweet converse 'twixt her and you,  
As that she holds with her associates now.   

How false is Hope, and how regardless Fate,  
That such a love should have so short a date!  
Lately I saw her sighing part from thee:  
(Alas that that the last farewell should be!)  
So looked Astraea, her remove designed,  
On those distressed friends she left behind.  
Consent in virtue knit your hearts so fast,  
That still the knot in spite of Death does last.  
For as your tears and sorrow-wounded soul  
Prove well that on your part this bond is whole:  
So all we know of what they do above  
Is that they happy are, and that they love:  
Let dark oblivion, and the hollow grave  
Content themselves our frailer thoughts to have;  
Well chosen love is never taught to die,  
But with our nobler part invades the sky;  
Then grieve no more that One so heavenly shaped  
The crooked hand of trembling Age escaped:  
Rather since we beheld her not decay,  
But that she vanished so entire away,  
Her wondrous beauty and her goodness merit  
We should suppose that some propitious spirit  
In that celestial form frequented here,  
And is not dead, but ceases to appear.    

To the Queen Mother upon her landing.  

GReat Queen of Europe, where thy offspring wears  
All the chief Crowns, whose Princes are thy heirs;  
As welcome thou to Sea-girt Britain's shore,  
As erst Latona (who fair Cynthia bore)  
To Delos was; here shines a Nymph as bright,  
By thee disclosed with like increase of light.  
Why was her joy in Belgia so confined?  
Or why did you so much regard the wind?  
Scarce could the Ocean (though enraged) have tossed  
Thy Sovereign Bark, but where th' obsequious Coast  
Pays tribute to thy bed: Rome's conquering hand  
More vanquished Nations under her command  
Never reduced. Glad Berecynthia so  
Among her deathless progeny did go:  
A wreath of Towers adorned her reverend head,  
Mother of all that on Ambrosia fed.  
Thy Godlike race must sway the age to come,  
Asshee Olympus peopled with her womb.  
Would these Commanders of mankind obey  
Their honoured Parent, all pretences lay  
Down at your Royal feet, compose their jars,  
And on the growing Turk discharge these wars,  
The Christian Knights that sacred tomb should wrest  
From Pagan hands, and triumph o'er the East:  
There England's Prince, and Gallia's Dauphin might  
Like young Rinaldo and Tancredo sight,  
In single combat, by their swords again  
The proud Argantes and fierce Sultan slain;  
Again might we their glorious deeds recite,  
And with your Tuscan Muse exalt the fight.    

Song.  
Peace babbling Muse.  
I dare not sing what you indite;  
Her eyes refuse  
To read the passion which they writ:  
She strikes my Lute, but if it sound,  
Threatens to hurl it on the ground;  
And I no less her anger dread,  
Then the poor wretch that feigns him dead,  
While some fierce Lion does embrace  
His breathless corpse, and licks his face;  
Wrapped up in silent fear he lies,  
Torn all in pieces, if he cries.   

Of Love.  

ANger in hasty words or blows  
Itself discharges on our foes;  
And sorrow too finds some relief  
In tears which wait upon our grief;  
So every passion but fond Love  
Unto its own redress does move,  
But that alone the wretch inclines  
To what prevents his own designs,  
Makes him lament, and sigh, and weep,  
disordered tremble, fawn and creep;  
Postures which render him despised,  
Where he endeavours to be prized.  
For women borne to be controlled  
Stoop to the forward and the bold,  
Affect the haughty and the proud,  
The gay, the frolic, and the loud,  
Who first the generous steed oppressed,  
Not kneeling did salute the beast,  
But with high courage, life and force  
Approaching, tamed the unruly horse.  
Unwisely we the wiser East  
Pity, supposing them oppressed  
With tyrant's force, whose law is will,  
By which they govern, spoil and kill;  
Each Nymph but moderately fair  
Commands with no less rigour here.  
Should some brave Turk, that walks among  
His twenty Lasses bright and young,  
And beckons to the willing Dame  
Preferred to quench his present flame,  
Behold as many gallants here  
With modest guise and silent fear  
All to one female Idol bend,  
Whilst her high pride does scarce descend  
To mark their follies, he would swear  
That these her guard of Eun̂uches were,  
And that a more Majestic Queen,  
Or humbler slaves, he had not seen.   

All this with indignation spoke  
In vain I struggled with the yoke  
Of mighty Love; that conquering look.  
When next beheld, like lightning struck  
My blasted soul, and made me bow  
Lower than those I pitied now.   

So the tall Stag upon the brink  
Of some smooth stream about to drink,  
Surveying there his armed head,  
With shame remembers that he fled  
The scorned dogs, resolves to try  
The combat next; but if their cry  
Invades again his trembling ear,  
He strait resumes his wont fear,  
Leaves the untasted Spring behind,  
And winged with fear outflyes the wind.    

To the mutable Fair.  

HEre, Celia, for thy sake I part  
With all that grew so near my heart,  
The passion that I had for thee,  
The faith, the love, the constancy;  
And that I may successful prove,  
Transform myself to what you love.   

Fool that I was, so much to prise  
Those simple virtues you despise!  
Fool, that with such dull arrows strove,  
Or hoped to reach a flying Dove!  
For you that are in motion still,  
Decline our force, and mock our skill,  
Who like Don Quixote do advance  
Against a windmill our vain lance.   

Now will I wander through the air,  
Mount, make a stoop at every Fair,  
And with a fancy unconfined  
(As lawless as the the Sea or wind)  
Pursue you wheresoever you fly,  
And with your various thoughts comply.   

The formal stars do travel so,  
As we their names and courses know;  
And he that on their changes looks,  
Would think them governed by our books;  
But never were the clouds reduced  
To any art, the motion used  
By those free vapours are so light,  
So frequent, that the conquered sight  
Despairs to find the rules that guide  
Those guilded shadows as they slide;  
And therefore of the spacious air  
Jove's royal Consort had the care,  
And by that power did once escape  
Declining bold Ixion's rape;  
She with her own resemblance graced  
A shining cloud, which he embraced.   

Such was that Image, so it smiled  
With seeming kindness, which beguiled  
Your Thirsis lately, when he thought  
He had his fleeting Celia caught;  
'Twas shaped like her, but for the Fair  
He filled his arms with yielding air.  
A fate, for which he grieves the less,  
Because the Gods had like success:  
For in their story, One (we see)  
Pursues a Nymph and takes a tree;  
A second with a Lovers hast  
Soon overtakes whom he had chased,  
But she that did a Virgin seem,  
Possessed, appears a wand'ring stream;  
For his supposed Love a third  
Lays greedy hold upon a bird,  
And stands amazed to find his dear  
A wild Inhabitant of th'air.   

To these old tales such Nymphs as you  
Give credit, and still make them new;  
The Amorous now like wonders find  
In the swift changes of your mind.   

But Celia, if you apprehend  
The Muse of your incensed friend,  
Nor would that he record your blame,  
And make it live; repeat the same,  
Again deceive him and again,  
And then he swears he'll not complain:  
For still to be deluded so,  
Is all the pleasure Lovers know,  
Who, like good Falconers, take delight  
Not in the quarry, but the flight.    

Of the taking of Sally.  

OF Jason, Theseus, and such Worthies old  
Light seem the tales Antiquity has told,  
Such Beasts and Monsters as their force oppressed,  
Some places only, and some times infest;  
Sally, that scorned all power and laws of Men,  
Goods with their owners hurrying to their Den.  
And future ages threatening with a crude  
And savage race successively renewed,  
Their Kings despising with rebellious pride,  
And foes professed to all the world beside,  
This pest of mankind gives our Hero fame,  
And through th'obliged world dilates his name.   

The Prophet once to cruel Agag said,  
As thy fierce sword has Mother's childless made,  
So shall the sword make thine; and with that word  
He hewed the man in pieces with his sword:  
Just Charles like measure has returned to these  
Whose Pagan hands had stained the troubled Seas;  
With ships they made the spoiled Merchants mourn,  
With ships their City and themselves are torn;  
One squadron of our winged Castles sent  
O'rthrew their Fort, and all their Navy rend.   

For not content the dangers to increase,  
And act the part of tempests in the Seas,  
Like hungry Wolves these Pirates from our shore  
Whole flocks of sheep and ravished cattles bore.  
Safely they did on other Nation's prey:  
Fools, to provoke the Sovereign of the Sea!  
Mad Cacus so, whom like ill Fate persuades,  
The Herd of fair Alcmena's seed invades,  
Who for revenge, and mortals glad relief  
Sacked the dark Cave, and crushed that horrid thief.   

Morocco's Monarch wondering at this fact,  
Save that his presence his affairs exact,  
Had come in person to have seen and known  
The injured world's revenger and his own;  
Hither he sends the chief among his Peers,  
Who in his Bark well-chosen presents bears  
To the renowned for piety and force,  
Poor Captives manumised, and matchless horse.    

To Mistress Braughton.  

Fair fellow-servant, May your gentle ear  
Prove more propitious to my slighted care,  
Then the bright Dame's we serve, for her relief  
(Vexed with the long expressions of my grief)  
Receive these plaints, nor will her high disdain  
Forbidden my humble Muse to court her train.   

So in those Nations which the Sun adore  
Some modest Persian, or some weak-eyed Moor,  
No higher dares advance his dazzled sight;  
Then to some guilded cloud, which near the light  
Of their ascending God adorns the East,  
And graced with his beams outshines the rest.  
Thy skilful hand contributes to our woe,  
And whets those Arrows which confound us so;  
A thousand Cupids in those curls do sit,  
Those curious Nets your slender fingers knit:  
The Graces put not more exactly on  
Th'attire of Venus, when the Ball she won,  
Then Sacharissa by thy care is dressed,  
When all our youth prefers her to the rest.   

You the soft seasons know, when best her mind  
May be to pity or to love inclined,  
In some well chosen hour supply his fear,  
Whose hopeless love durst never tempt the ear  
Of that stern Goddess; You (her priest) declare  
What offerings may propitiate the Fair,  
Rich orient Pearl, bright stones that ne'er decay,  
Or polished lines which longer last then they:   

For if I thought she took delight in those,  
To where the cheerful Morn does first disclose,  
(The shady night removing with her beams)  
Winged with bold Love, I'd fly to fetch such gems.   

But since her eyes, her teeth, her lip excels  
All that is found in Mines or fishes shells,  
Her nobler part as far exceeding these,  
None but immortal gifts her mind can please.   

Those shining Jewels Greece and Troy bestowed,  
The snowy wrists, and lovely neck did load  
Of Sparta's Queen, but when the Town was burned,  
Those fading glories were to ashes turned;  
Her beauty too had perished, and her fame,  
Had not the Muse redeemed them from the Flame.    

Puerperium.  

YOu Gods that have the power  
To trouble and compose  
All that's beneath your bower,  
Calm silence on the Seas, on earth impose.   

Fair Venus, in thy soft arms  
The God of rage confine;  
For thy whispers are the charms  
Which only can divert his fierce design.  
What though he frown, and to tumult do incline?  
Thou the flame  
Kindled in his breast canst tame  
With that snow which unmelted lies on thine.  
Great Goddess, give this thy sacred Island rest,  
Make heaven smile,  
That no storm disturb us while  
Thy chief care our Halcyon builds her nest.   

Great Gloriana, fair Gloriana,  
Bright as high heaven is and fertile as earth,  
Whose beauty relieves us  
Whose royal bed gives us  
Both glory and peace,  
Our present joy, our hopes increase.    

To Phillis.  
PHillis, why should we delay  
Pleasures shorter than the day?  
Can we (which we never can)  
Stretch our lifes beyond their span,  
Beauty like a shadow flies,  
And our youth before us dies:  
Or would youth and beauty stay,  
Love has wings, and will away,  
Love has swifter wings than time.  
Change in love to heaven does climb;  
Gods that never change their state,  
Varied oft their love and hate:  
Phillis, to this truth we own  
All the love betwixt us two;  
Let not you and I inquire,  
What has been our past desire;  
On what shepherds you have smiled,  
Or what nymphs I have beguiled;  
Leave it to the planets too,  
What we shall hereafter do;  
For the joys we now may prove,  
Take advice of present Love.   

To Phillis.  

PHillis ' 'twas love that injured you,  
And on that rock your Thirsis threw,  
Who for proud Celia could have died,  
Whilst you no less accused his pride.   

Fond Love his darts at random throws,  
And nothing springs from what he sows▪  
From foes discharged as often meet  
The shining points of arrows fleet  
In the wide air creating fire,  
As souls that join in one desire.   

Love made the lovely Venus burn  
In vain, and for the cold Youth mourn,  
Who the pursuit of churlish beasts  
Preferred to sleeping on her breasts.   

Love makes so many hearts the prize  
Of the bright Carlisles conquering eyes,  
Which she regards no more than they  
The tears of lesser beauties weigh:  
So have I seen the lost clouds power  
Into the Sea an useless shower;  
And the vexed sailors curse the rain,  
For which poor shepherds prayed in vain.   

Then (Phillis) since our passions are  
Governed by chance, and not the care  
But sport of heaven, which takes delight  
To look upon this Parthian fight  
Of Love, still flying or in chase,  
Never encountering face to face;  
No more to Love we'll sacrifice,  
But to the best of Deities;  
And let our hearts which Love disjoined,  
By his kind Mother be combined.    

Song.  

While I listen to thy voice,  
Chloris, I feel my life decay;  
That powerful noise  
Calls my fleeting soul away.  
Oh, suppress that magic sound,  
Which destroys without a wound.   

Peace Chloris, peace, or singing dye,  
That together you and I  
To heaven may go:  
For all we know  
Of what the blessed do above,  
It that they sing, and that they love.    

Song.  
Stay Phoebus, stay,  
The world to which you fly so fast  
Conveying day  
From us to them, can pay your haste  
With no such object, nor salute your Rise  
With no such wonders as the Mornay's eyes.  
Well does this prove  
The error of those antique books,  
Which made you move  
About the world; her charming looks  
Would fix your beams, and make it ever day,  
Did not the rolling earth snatch her away.   

To Amoretta.  

A Moret, the milky way,  
Framed of many nameless stars;  
The smooth stream, where none can say  
He this drop to that prefers:   

Amoretta, my lovely so,  
Tell me where thy strength doth lie,  
Where the power that charms us so;  
In thy soul, or in thy eye?   

By that snowy neck alone,  
Or thy grace in motion seen,  
No such wonders could be done;  
Yet thy waist is straight and clean,  
As Cupid's shaft, or Hermes rod,  
And powerful too as either God.    

To my Lord of Falkland.  

BRave Holland leads, and with him Falkland goes;  
Who hears this told, and does not strait suppose  
We send the Graces and the Muses forth  
To civilize, and to instruct the North?   

Not that these ornaments make swords less sharp;  
Apollo wears as well his Bow as Harp;  
And though he be the Patron of that Spring  
Where in calm Peace the sacred Virgins sing,  
He courage had to guard th'invaded throne  
Of Jove, and cast th'ambitious Giants down.   

Ah! (noble Friend) with what impatience all  
That know thy worth, and know how prodigal  
Of thy great Soul thou art, longing to twist  
Bays with that Ivy which so early kissed  
Thy youthful Temples, with what horror we  
Think on the blind events of war, and thee  
To Fate exposing that all-knowing breast  
Among the throng as cheaply as the rest,  
Where Oaks and brambles (if the Copse be burned)  
Confounded lie to the same ashes turned!   

Some happy wind over the Ocean blow  
This tempest yet, which frights our Island so,  
Guarded with ships, and all the Sea our own,  
From heaven this mischief on our heads is thrown.   

In a late Dream the Genius of this Land  
Amazed I saw like the fair Hebrew stand,  
When first she felt the twins begin to jar,  
And found her womb the seat of civil war;  
Inclined to whose relief, and with presage  
Of better fortune for the present Age,  
Heaven sends, quoth I, this discord for our good,  
To warm perhaps, but not to waste our blood;  
To raise our drooping spirits, grown the scorn  
Of our proud Neighbours, who ere long shall mourn  
(Though now they joy in our expected harms)  
We had occasion to resume our Arms,   

A Lion so with self-provoking smart,  
His rebel tail scourging his nobler part,  
Calls up his courage, then gins to roar,  
And charge his foes, who thought him mad before.    

Of a Lady who writ in praise of Mira.  
While she pretends to make the graces known  
Of matchless Mira, she reveals her own;  
And when she would another's praise indite,  
Is by her glass instructed how to write.   

To one married to an old man.  
SInce thou wouldst needs, bewitched with some ill charms,  
Be buried in those monumental arms,  
All we can wish, is, May that earth lie light  
Upon thy tender limbs, and so Good night.   

For the Drinking of Healths.  
LEt Brutes and Vegetals that cannot think,  
So far as drought and Nature urges, drink;  
A more indulgent Mistress guides our sprights,  
Reason, that dares beyond our appetites,  
She would our care as well as thirst redress,  
And with Divinity rewards excess.  
Deserted Ariadne thus supplied,  
Did perjured Theseus' cruelty deride,  
Bacchus embraced from her exalted thought  
Banished the man, her passion, and his fault.  
Bacchus and Phoebus are by Jove allied,  
And each by others timely heat supplied:  
All that the Grapes own to his ripening fires,  
Is paid in numbers which their joice inspires.  
Wine fills the veins, and Healths are understood  
To give our friends a title to our blood:  
Who naming me doth warm his courage so,  
Shows for my sake what his bold hand would do.   

To Flavia.  
Song.  

'TIs not your Beauty can engage  
My wary Heart;  
The Sun in all his Pride and Rage  
Has not that Art;  
And yet he shines as bright as you,  
If brightness could our Souls subdue.   

'Tis not the pretty things you say,  
Or those you writ,  
Which can make Thirsis heart your Prey,  
For that delight,  
The graces of a well taught mind  
In some of our own Sex we find.   

No Flavia, 'tis your Love I fear,  
Loves surest Darts  
Those which so seldom fail him are  
Headed with Hearts,  
Their very shadow makes us yield,  
Dissemble well, and win the Field.    

Of my Lady Isabel playing on the Lute.  

SUch moving sounds from such a careless touch,  
So unconcerned herself, and we so much!  
What Art is this; that with so little pains  
Transports us thus, and o'er the spirit reigns?  
The trembling strings about her finger's crowd,  
And tell their joy for every kiss aloud;  
Small force there needs to make them tremble so;  
Touched by that hand, who would not tremble too?  
Here Love takes stand, and while she charms the ear,  
Empties his Quiver on the listening Deer:  
Music so softens and disarms the mind,  
That not an Arrow does resistance find;  
Thus the fair Tyrant celebrates the prize,  
And acts herself the triumph of her eyes.   

So Nero once, with Harp in hand, surveyed  
His flaming Rome, and as it burned, he played.    

The fall.  
SEe how the willing earth gave way  
To take th'impression where she lay!  
See how the mould, as loath to leave  
So sweet a burden, still does cleave  
Close to th'Nymphs stained garment! here  
The coming Spring would first appear,  
And all this place with roses strew,  
If busy feet would let them grow:  
Here Venus smiled to see blind Chance  
Itself before her Son advance,  
And a fair Image to present  
Of what the Boy so long had meant.  
'Twas such a chance as this made all  
The world into this order fall;  
Thus the first Lovers, on the clay  
Of which they were composed, lay;  
So in their prime with equal grace  
Met the first Patterns of our Race;  
Then blush not (Fair) or on him frown,  
Or wonder how you both came down;  
But touch him, and he'll tremble strait,  
How could he then support your weight?  
How could the Youth (alas!) but bend,  
When his whole heaven upon him leaned?  
If aught by him amiss were done,  
IT was that he let you rise so soon.   

Of Silvia.  

OUr sighs are heard, just Heaven declares  
The sense it has of Lovers cares;  
She that so far the rest outshined,  
Silvia the fair, while she was kind,  
As if her frowns impaired her brow,  
Seems only not unhandsome now:  
So when the sky makes us endure  
A storm, itself becomes obscure.   

Hence 'tis that I conceal my flame,  
Hiding from Flavia's self her name,  
Lest she provoking Heaven should prove  
How it rewards neglected Love:  
Betrer a thousand such as I,  
Their grief untold, should pine and die,  
Then her bright Morning overcast  
With sullen clouds should be defaced.    

The Bud.  

LAtely on yonder swelling Bush,  
Big with many a coming Rose,  
This early Bud began to blush,  
And did but half itself disclose:  
I plucked it, though no better grown,  
Yet now you see how full 'tis blown.   

Still as I did the leaves inspire,  
With such a purple light they shone.  
As if they had been made of fire,  
And spreading so would flame anon.  
All that was meant by Air or Sun  
To the young Flower, my breath has done.   

If our lose breath so much can do,  
What may the same in forms of Love,  
Of purest Love and Music too,  
When Flavia it aspires to move;  
When that which lifeless Buds persuades  
To wax more soft, her youth invades?    

To a Lady singing a Song of his composing.  

CHloris, yourself you so excel,  
When you vouchsafe to breathe my thought,  
That like a Spirit with this spell  
Of my own teaching I am caught.   

That eagle's fate and mine are one,  
Which on the shaft that made him die,  
Espied a feather of his own,  
Wherewith he want to soar so high.   

Had Echo with so sweet a grace  
Narcissus loud complaints returned,  
Not for reflection of his face,  
But of his voice the Boy had mourned.    

At the Marriage of the Dwarves.  

THe Sign or Chance makes others wive,  
But Nature did this Match contrive;  
Eve might as well have Adam fled,  
As she denied her little Bed  
To him, for whom Heaven seemed to frame,  
And measure out this only Dame.   

Thrice happy is that humble Pair  
Beneath the level of all Care,  
Over whose heads those Arrows fly  
Of sad Distrust and Jealousy,  
Secured in as high extreme,  
As if the World held none but them.   

To him the fairest Nymphs do show  
Like moving Mountains topped with Snow;  
And every man a Polypheme  
Does to his Galatea seem:  
None may presume her faith to prove;  
He proffers Death, that proffers Love.   

Ah (Chloris) that kind Nature thus  
From all the World had severed us,  
Creating for ourselves us two,  
As Love has me for only you!    

Upon Ben: johnson.  
Mirror of Poets, Mirror of our Age,  
Which her whole face beholding on thy Stage,  
Pleased and displeased with her own faults, endures  
A remedy like those whom Music cures:  
Thou hast alone those various inclinations  
Which Nature gives to Ages, Sexes, Nations;  
Hast tracked with thy all-resembling Pen  
What ever Custom has imposed on Men,  
Or illgot Habits (which distorts them so,  
That scarce one Brother can the brother know)  
Is representing to the wondering eyes  
Of all that see or read thy Comedies;  
Who ever in those Glasses look, may find  
The spots returned, or graces of the mind;  
And by the help of so divine an Art,  
At leisure view and dress his nobler Part.  
Narcissus cous'ned by that flattering Well,  
And nothing could but of his beauty tell;  
Had here discovering the deformed estate  
Of his fond mind preserved himself with hate.  
But Virtue too, aswell as Vice, is clad  
In flesh and blood so well, that Plato had  
Beheld what his high fancy once embraced,  
Virtue with colours, speech, and motion graced.  
The sundry Postures of thy copious Muse  
Who would express, a thousand Tongues must use;  
Whose Fate's not less peculiar than thy Art;  
For as thou couldst all Characters impart,  
So none can render thine, who still escapes  
Like Proteus in variety of shapes,  
Who was, nor this, nor that, but all we find,  
And all we can imagine in mankind.   

To Master George Sands on his Translation of some part of the Bible.  

HOw bold a work attempts that Pen,  
Which would enrich our vulgar tongue  
With the high raptures of those men,  
Who here with the same Spirit sung,  
Wherewith they now assist the Choir  
Of Angels, who their Songs admire?   

What ever those inspired Souls  
Were urged to express, did shake  
The aged Deep, and both the Poles,  
Their numerous thunder could awake  
Dull Earth, which does with Heaven consent?  
To all they wrote, and all they meant.   

Say (sacred Bard) what could bestow  
Courage on thee to soar so high?  
Tell me (brave Friend) what helped thee so  
To shake off all Mortality?  
To light this Torch, thou hast climbed higher  
Than he who stole Celestial fire.    

Chloris and Hilas.  Chl. 
HIlas, o Hilas! why sit we mute,  
Now that each Bird saluteth the Spring?  
Wind up the slackened strings of thy Lute,  
Never canst thou want matter to sing:  
For Love thy breast does fill with such a site,  
That whatsoever is fair moves thy desire.  Hil. 
Sweetest, you know the sweetest of things  
Of various flowers the Bees do compose,  
Yet no particular taste it brings  
Of Violet, Woodbine, Pink, or Rose:  
So Love the resultance is of all our Graces,  
Which flow from a thousand several faces.  Chl. Hilas, 
the Birds which chant it in this Grove,  
Can we but know the language they use,  
They would instruct us better in Love,  
And reprehend thy inconstant Muse;  
For Love their breasts does fill with such a fire,  
That what they once do choose bounds their desire.  Hil. Chloris, 
this change the Birds do approve,  
Which the warm Season hither does bring;  
Time from yourself does further remove  
You, than the Winter from the gay Spring:  
She that like Lightning shined while her face lasted,  
The Oak now resembles which Lightning has blasted.   

Under a Lady's Picture.  
SUch Helen was, and who can blame the Boy  
That in so bright a flame consumed his Troy?  
But had like Virtue shined in that fair Greek,  
The amorous Shepherd had not dared to seek,  
Or hope for pity, but with silent moan  
And better fate had perished alone.   

In answer of Sir John Sucklins' Verses.  Con. 
STay here fond Youth, and ask no more, be wise,  
Knowing too much long since lost Paradise.  Pro. 
And by your knowledge we should be bereft  
Of all that Paradise which yet is lost.  Con. 
The virtuous joys thou hast, thou wouldst, should still  
Last in their pride, and wouldst not take it ill,  
If rudely from sweet Dreams, and for a toy  
Thou wert awaked▪ he wakes himself that does enjoy.  Pro. 
How can the joy or hope which you allow,  
Be styled virtuous, and the end not so?  
Talk in your sleep, and shadows still admire;  
'Tis true, he wakes that feels this real fire,  
But to sleep better; for who ere drinks deep  
Of this Nepenthe, rocks himself asleep.  Con. 
Fruition adds no new wealth, but destroys,  
And while it pleaseth much, yet still it cloys;  
Who thinks he shall be happier made for that,  
As reasonably might hope, he might grow fat  
By eating to a Surfeit, this once past  
●hat relishes? even kisses lose their taste.  Pro. 
Blessings may be repeated while they cloy;  
But shall we starve, 'cause Surfeitings destroy?  
And if fruition did the taste impair  
Of kisses, why should yonder happy Pair,  
Where joys just Hymen warrants all the night,  
Consume the day too in this less delight?  Con. 
Urge not 'tis necessary, alas! we know  
The homeliest thing that Mankind does is so▪  
The World is of a large extent we see,  
And must be peopled, Children there must be,  
So must Bread too: but since there are enough  
Borne to that drudgery, what need we plough?  Pro. 
I need not plough, since what the stooping Hine  
Gets of my pregnant Land, must all be mine;  
But in this nobler Tillage 'tis not so,  
For when Anchises did fair Venus know,  
What interest had poor Vulcan in the Boy,  
Great-souled Aeneas, or the present joy?  Con. 
Women enjoyed, what ere tofore they have been,  
Are like Romances read, or Scenes once seen:  
Fruition dulls or spoils the Play much more,  
Then if one read, or knew the Plot before.  Pro. 
Plays and Romances read and seen do fall,  
〈◊〉 Opinions, yet not seen at all  
Whom would they please? to an Heroic tale  
Would you not listen, lest it should grow stolen?  Con. 
'Tis Expectation makes a Blessing dear:  
Heaven were not Heaven, if we knew what it were.  Pro. 
If't were not Heaven, if we knew what it were.  
IT would not be Heaven to them that now are there.  Con. 
As in prospects we are there pleased most,  
Where something keeps the eye from being lost,  
And leaves room to guests: so here restraint  
Holds up delight, that with excess would faint.  Pro. 
Restraint preserves the pleasure we have got,  
But he ne'er has it that enjoys it not.  
In goodly prospects, who contracts the space,  
Or takes not all the bounty of the place?  
We wish removed what standeth in our light,  
And Nature blame for limiting our sight,  
Where you stand wisely winking, that the view  
Of the fair prospect may be always new,  Con. 
They who know all the wealth they have are poor,  
he's only Rich that cannot tell his store.  Pro. 
Not he that knows the wealth he has is poor,  
But he that dares not touch, nor use his store.   

To A. H. of the different success of their Loves.  
THrice-happy Pair, of whom we cannot know  
Which first began to love, or loves most now:  
Fair course of Passion, where two Lovers start  
And run together, heart still yoked in heart!  
Successful Youth, whom Love has taught the way  
To be victorious in thy first Essay!  
Sure Love's an Art best practised at first,  
And where th'experienced still prosper worst  
I with different Fate pursued in vain  
The haughty Celia, till my just disdain  
Of her neglect above that Passion born,  
Did pride to pride oppose, and scorn to scorn.  
Now she rolents, but all too late to move  
A Heart diverted to a nobler Love:  
The Scales are turned, her Kingdom weighs no more  
Now, than my vows and service did before.  
So in some wellwrought Hang you may see  
How Hector leads, and how the Grecians flee;  
Here the fierce Mars his courage so inspires,  
That with bold hands the Argive Flee the fires;  
But there from Heaven the blue eyed Virgin falls,  
And frighted Troy retires within her walls:  
They that are foremost in that bloody place  
Turn head anon, and gives the conquerors chase.  
So like the Chances are of Love and War,  
That they alone in this distinguished are;  
In Love the Victors from the vanquished sly,  
They sly that wound, and they pursue that die.   

An Apology for having loved before.  

THey that never had the use  
Of the Grapes surprising joyce,  
To the first delicious cup  
All their reason render up;  
Neither do, nor care to know  
Whether it be the best or no.   

So they that are to Love inclined,  
Swayed by Chance, not choice or art,  
To the first that's fair or kind,  
Make a present of their heart;  
'Tis not she that first we love,  
But whom dying we approve,   

To Man, that was i'th' Evening made,  
Stars gave the first delight,  
Admiring in the gloomy shade  
Those little drops of light.   

Then at Aurora, whose fair hand  
Removed him from the skies,  
Heegazing towards the East did stand,  
She entertained his eyes.   

But when the bright Sun did appear,  
All those he'gan despise:  
His wonder was determined there,  
He could no higher rise.   

He neither might, or wished to know  
A more refulgent light  
For that, as mine your Beauties now  
Employ his utmost sight.    

Palamede to Zelinde Ariana. lib. 6.  
FAirest piece of well formed earth,  
Urge not thus your haughty Birth,  
The power which you have o'er us lies  
Not in your Race, but in your eyes.  
None but a Prince! alas, that voice,  
Confines you to a narrow choice;  
Should you not honey vow to taste,  
But what the Master Bees have placed  
●n compass of their Cells, how small  
A portion to your share would fall?  
Nor all appear among those few,  
Worthy the stock from whence they grew.  
The sap which at the root is bred  
In Trees, through all the boughs is spread.  
But Virtues which in Parents shine,  
Make not like Progress through the Line.  
'Tis not from whom, but where we live,  
The place does oft those Graces give.  
Great julius on the Mountains bred,  
A flock perhaps or herd had led:  
He that the world subdued had been  
But the best Wrestler on the Green:  
'Tis art and Knowledge which draw forth  
The hidden seeds of native worth,  
They blow those sparks, and make them rise  
Into such flames as touch the Skies.  
To the old Hero's hence was given  
A Pedigree which reached to Heaven;  
Of mortal Seed they were not held,  
Which other Mortals so excelled:  
And Beauty too in such excess  
As yours, Zelinde, claims no less;  
Smile but on me, and you shall scorn  
Henceforth to be of Princes born.  
I can describe the shady Grove,  
Where your loved Mother slept with Jove,  
And yet excuse the faultless Dame  
Caught with her Spouses shape and name;  
Thy matchless form will credit bring  
To all the wonders I shall sing.   

Love's Farewell.  
I Reading the path to Nobler ends,  
A long farewell to Love I gave:  
resolved my Country and my Friends  
●ll that remained of me should have;  
●nd this Resolve no mortal Dame,  
None but those eyes could have o'rthrowne.  
The Nymph, I dare, nor need not name,  
●o high, so like herself alone:  
Thus the Oak, which now aspires  
Above the fears of private fires,  
Grown, and designed for nobler use,  
Not to make warm, but build the house;  
Though from our meaner flames secure,  
Must that which falls from heaven endure.   

To Chloris.  
CHloris, what eminent we know,  
Must for some cause be valued so;  
Things without use, though they be good,  
Are not by us so understood.  
The early Rose made to display  
Her bushes to the youthful May,  
Doth yield her sweets since he is fair.  
And courts her with a gentle air.  
Our stars too show their excellence,  
Not by their light, but influence;  
When brighter Comets since still known.  
Fatal to all, are liked by none:  
So your admired beauty still  
Is by effects made good or ill.   

Madam,  
AS in some climbs the warmer Sun,  
Makes it full Summer ere the spring's begun,  
And with ripe fruit the bending boughts can load,  
Before the violets dare look abroad:  
So measure not by any common use,  
The early love your brighter eyes produce.  
When lately your fair hand, in woman's weed,  
Wrapped my glad head, I wished me so indeed,  
That hasty time might never make me grow,  
Out of those favours you afford me now;  
That I might ever such indulgence find,  
And you not blush or think yourself too kind,  
Who now I fear while I these joys express,  
Begin to think how you may make them less:  
The sound of love makes your soft heart afraid,  
And guard itself, though but a child invade,  
And innocently at your white breast throw  
A dart as white, a Ball of new fallen snow.   

An Epigram On a painted Lady with ill teeth.  

Were men so dull they could not see  
That Lice painted, should they flee  
Like simple Birds into a Net,  
So grossly woven and ill set;  
Her own teeth would undo the knot,  
And let all go that she had got.   

Those teeth fair Lice must not show,  
If she would by't: her Lovers, though  
Like Birds they stoop at seeming grapes,  
Are disabused when first she gapes;  
The rotten bones discovered there,  
Show 'tis a painted Sepulchre.    

On a Girdle.  

THat which her slender waste confined,  
Shall now my joyful temples bind;  
No Monarch but would give his Crown  
His Arms might do what this has done,   

It is my Heaven's extremest Sphere,  
The pale which held the lovely Dear,  
My joy, my grief, my hope, my Love,  
Do all within this Circle move.   

A narrow compass, and yet there  
Dwells all that's good, and all that's fair:  
Give me but what this Ribbon tied,  
Take all the sun goes round beside.    

On Mr. john Fletcher's plays.  

FLetcher, to thee we do not only owe.  
All these good plays but those others too,  
Thy wit repeated does support the Stage,  
Credits the last, and entertains this Age,  
No worthies formed by any Muse but thine  
Can purchase robes, to make themselves so fine,   

What brave Commander is not proud to see  
Thy brave Melantius in his Gallantry,  
Our greatest Ladies love to see their scorn  
Out done by thine, in what themselves have worn.  
The Impatient widow ere the year be done,  
Sees thy Aspasia weeping in her gown.   

I never yet the Tragic strain assayed,  
Deterred by that inimitable Maid.  
And when I venture at the Comic stile,  
Thy scornful Lady, seems to mock my toil.   

Thus has thy Muse at once improved and marred,  
Our sport in plays by rendering it too hard.  
So when a sort of lusty shepherds throw,  
The bar by turns, and none the rest out go  
So fare but that the best are measuring casts,  
There emulation, and there pastimes lasts;  
But it some braunie Yeoman of the guard  
Stepp in and toss the axeltrie a yard,  
Or more beyond the furthest mark, the rest,  
Despairing stand, Their sport is at the best.    

To Chloris upon a favour received.  
CHloris, since first our calm of peace  
Was frighted hence, this good we find.  
Your favours with your fears increase,  
And growing mischiefs make you kind.  
So the fair tree which still preserves  
Her fruit and state whilst no wind blows,  
In storms from that uprightness swerves.  
And the glad earth about her strews  
With treasure from her yielding boughs.    

The Table.  

OF the danger his Majesty (being Prince) escaped at the road at St. Andere. 1  
Of His Majesty's receiving of the news of the Duke of Buckingham's death. 11  
To the King on His Navy. 13  
Upon his Majesty's repairing of Paul's. 15  
To the Queen occasioned upon sight of her Majesty's Picture. 19  
The apology of sleep, for not approaching the Lady who can do any thing but sleep when she pleaseth. 23  
The country to my lady of Carlisle. 26  
The Countess of Carlisle in mourning. 28  
An answer to a libel against her etc. 31  
On my lady Dorothy Sidneys Picture. 33  
To Vandike. 34  
At Pens-Hurst. 37  
At Pens-Hurst. 40  
To my Lord of Leicester. 42  
To my young lady Lucy Sidney. 44  
Of the lady who can sleep when she pleaseth 45  
Of the misreport of her being painted. 47  
Of her passing through a crowd of people. 48  
A Song. Say lovely dream 50  
A Song. Behold the brand of beauty tossed, 52  
To Amoretta. 53  
The story of Phoebus and Daphne aplyed &c 57  
Of Mistress Arden, 59  
On the discovery of a ladies painting, 60  
To a lady from whom he received a silver pen. 62  
On a Brede of divers colours woven by four Ladies. 64  
On the head of a Stag. 65  
To a lady in retirement. 66  
The Miser's Speech in a Mask. 68  
To my lord of Northumberland upon the death of his Lady. 69  
To my lord admiral of his late sickness & recovery. 72  
On the friendship betwixt Sacharissa & Amoretta. 76  
A la malade. 78  
Of her Chamber. 80  
Of loving at first sight. 81  
The self banished. 83  
Of and to the Queen. 84  
A Song. Go lovely Rose, 89  
Thirsis. Galatea. 90  
Fabula Phoebi et Daphnis. 94  
The battle of the summer Jslands, in three Cantos. 95  
Upon the death of the Lady Rich. 108  
To the Queen Mother upon her lauding. 113  
A Song. Peace babbling muse, 115  
Of Love. 116  
To the mutable Fair. 119  
Of the taking of Sally. 123  
To Mistress Broughton. 126  
Puerperium. 129  
To Phillis. 131  
To Phillis. 132  
A Song. While I listen to thy voice 135  
A Song. Stay Phoebus stay. 136  
To Amoretta. 137  
To my Lora of Falkland. 138  
On a Lady who writ in praise of Mira. 141  
To one Married to an old man. 141  
For the drinking of Healths. 142  
To Flavia, a Song. 143  
Of my Lady Isabel playing on a Lute. 145  
The Fall. 146  
Of Silvia. 148  
The Bud, 149  
To a Lady singing a Song of his Composing. 151  
At the Marriage of the Dwarves. 152  
Upon Ben. Johnson. 153  
To Mr. George Sands, on his Translation of some part of the Bible. 156  
Chloris and Hilas. 157  
Under a Lady's Picture. 159  
In answer of Sir John Sucklins' Verses. 160  
To A.H. of the different success of their Loves. 166  
An Apology for having Loved before. 168  
Palamede to Zelinde. Ariana, Lib. 6. 170  
Loves Farewell. 173  
To Chloris. 174  
Madam. As in some climes. 175  
An Epigram on a painted Lady with ill teeth. 176  
On a Girdle. 177  
On Mr. John Fletcher's Plays. 178  
To Cloris upon a Favour received. 180   
FINIS.   

Mr. waller's Speech in Parliament against the Prelate's Innovations.  
Mr. Speaker,  
WE shall make it appear, the errors of Divines who would that a Monarch, can be absolute, and that he can do all things ad libitum, receding not only from their Text, (though that be wand'ring too) but from the way their own profession might teach them. Stare super vias antiquas, and remove not the ancient bounds and Landmarks, which our Fathers have set.  
If to be absolute, were to be restrained by no Laws; Then can no King in Christendom be so, for they all stand obleidged to the Laws Christian, and we ask no more, for to this Pillar, be our Privileges fixed. Our Kings at their Coronation, having taken a Sacred Oath, not to infringe them, I am sorry these men take no more care, for the informing of our Faith of these things, which they tell us for our Souls health; whilst we know them so manifestly in the wrong way, in that which concerns the Liberties and Privileges of the Subjects of England.  
They gain preferment, and then it is no matter, though they neither believe themselves, nor are believed by others. But since they are so ready, to let lose the Conscience of our Kings, we are the more carefully to proceed for our protection against this Polpit-law, by declaring, and reinforcing Municipal Laws of this Kingdom.  
It is worthy the observation, how new this opinion, or rather this way of rising, is even amongst themselves.  
For, (Mr. Speaker) Mr. Hooker, who was no refractory man, (as they term it) thinks that the first government was Arbitray, until it was found, that to live by one man's will, becomes all men's misery; these are his words, and that these were the original of inventing Laws.  
And (Mr. Speaker,) if we look farther bacl, our Histories will tell us, that the Prelates of this Kingdom, have often been the Mediators between the King and his Subjects, to present and pray redress of their grievances, and had reciprocally then, as much love and reverence from the people.  
But these Preachers, more active than their Predecessors, and wiser than the Laws, have found out a better form of Government.  
The King must be a more absolute Monarch, than any of his Pedecessours, and to them he must owe it▪ though in the mean time, they hazard the hearts of his People, and involve Him into a thousand Difficulties.  
For suppose, this form of Government were inconvenient; (Mr. Speaker) this is but a Supposition; for this five hundred years it hath not only maintained us in safety, but made us victorious over other Nations: But suppose, this form of Government were inonconvenient; and they have another Idea of one more convenient; We all know, how dangerous Innovations are, though to the better; and what hazard those Princes run, that enterprise the Change of a long established Government.  
Now (Mr. Speaker) of all our Kings that have gone before, and of all that are to succeed in this happy race, why should so pious, and so good a King, be exposed to this trouble and hazard? Besides, that King so diverted, can never do any great matters abroad.  
But (Mr. Speaker) whilst these men have thus bend their Wits against the Law of their Country; have they not neglected their own profession? What tares are grown up in the field, which they should have tilled, I leave it to a second consideration? not but Religion be the first thing in our purposes and desires: But that which is first in dignity, is not always to preceded in order of time, for well-being, supposes a being; and the first impediment which men naturally, endeavour to rem ove, is the want of those things, without which they cannot subsist. God first assigned unto Adam, maintenance of life, and added to him a title to the rest of the Creatures, before he appointed a Law to observe.  
And let me tell you, that if our Adversaries have any such design, as there is nothing more easy, then to impose Religion on a people deprived of their Liberties, so there is nothing more hard, then to do the same upon Freemen.  
And therefore (Mr. Speaker) I conclude with this motion, that there may be an Order presently made, that the first thing this House goes about, shall be the restoring of this Nation in general, to the fundamental and vital Liberties, the propriety of our Goods, and freedom of our Persons: And then We will forthwith consider of the supply desired.  
And thus shall We discharge the trust reposed in us by those that sent us hither: And His Majesty shall see, that we will make more than ordinary haste to satisfy His demands; and we shall let all those know that seek to hasten the matter of supply, that they will so far delay it, as they give no interruption to the Former.   

Mr. waller's Speech in Parliament, at a Conference of both Houses in the painted Chamber. 6. July 1641.  
MY LORDS.  
I Am commanded by the House of Commons, to present you with these Articles against Mr. Justice Crawley, which when your Lordships shall have been pleased to hear read I shall take leave (according to custom) to say something of what I have collected from the sense of that House concerning the crimes therein contained.  
Here the charge was read containing his extrajudicall opinions subscribed, and judgement given for Ship-money, and afterward a declaration in his charge at on assize, that Shipmoney was so inhaerent alright in the Crown, that it would not be in the power of a Parliament to take it away.  
MY LORDS, Not only my wants but my affections render me less fit for this employment: for though it has not been my happiness to have the Law a part of my breeding, there is no man honours that profession more, or has a greater reverence towards the grave Judges the Oracles thereof. Out of Parliament all our Courts of Justice are governed or directed by them, and when a Parliament is called, if your Lordships were not assisted by them, and the House of Commons by other Gentlemen of that Robe, experience tells us it might run a hazard of being styled Parliamentum indoctorum. But as all professions are obnoxious to the malice of the professors, and by them most easily betrayed, so (my Lords) these Articles have told you how these brothers of the Coif are become fratres in malo; how these sons of the Law have torn out the bowels of their mother: But this Judge (whose charge you last heard) in one expression of his excels no less his Fellows, than they have done the worst of their predecessors, in this conspiracy against the Commonwealth. Of the Judgement for Shipmoney, and those extrajudicial opinions preceding the same (wherein they are jointly concerned) you have already heard; how unjust and pernicious a proceeding that was in so public a Cause, has been sufficiently expressed to your Lordships: But this man, adding despair to our misery, tells us from the Bench, that Ship-money was a Right so inhaerent in the Crown, that it would not be in the power of an Act of Parliament to take it away. Herein (my Lords) he did not only give as deep a wound to the Commonwealth as any of the rest, but dipped his dart in such a poison, that so fare as in him lay it might never receive a cure. As by those abortive opinions subscribing to the subversion of our propriety, before he heard what could be said for it, he prevented his own, so by this declaration of his he endeavours to prevent the Judgement of your Lordships too, and to confine the power of a Parliament, the only place where this mischief might be redressed: Sure he is more wise and learned, then to believe himself in this opinion, or not to know how ridiculous it would appear to a Parliament, and how dangerous to himself, and therefore no doubt but by saying no Parliament could abolish this Judgement, his meaning was that this Judgement had abolished Parliaments.  
This imposition of Shipmoney springing from a pretended necessity, was it not enough that it was now grown annual, but he must entail it upon the State for ever, at once making necessity inh●e●ent to the Crown, and slavery to the Subject? Necessity, which dissolving all Law is so much more prejudicial to his Majesty then to any of us, by how much the Law has invested his Royal State with a greater power, and ampler fortune, for so undoubred a truth it has ever been, that Kings as well as Subjects are involved in the confusion which necessity produces, that the Heathen, thought their gods also obliged by the same, Pareamus necessitati quam nec homines nec dii superant: This Judge then having in his charge at the Assize declared the dissolution of the Law by this supposed necessity, with what conscience could he at the same Assize proceed to condemn and punish men, unless perhaps he meant the Law was still in force for our destruction, and not for our preservation, that it should have power to kill, but none to protect us; a thing no less horrid than if the Sun should burn without lighting us, or the earth serve only to bury and not to feed and nourish us But (my Lords) to demonstrate that this was a suppositious imposed necessity, and such as they could remove when they pleased, at the last Convention in Parliament a price was set upon it, for twelve Subsidies you shall reverse this Sentence; It may be said that so much money would have removed the present necessity, but here was a Rate set upon future necessity. For twelve Subsidies you shall never suffer necssity again, you shall for ever abolish that judgement; Here this mystery is revealed, this visor of necessity is pulled off, and now it appears that this Parliament of Judges had very frankly and bountifully presented his Majesty with twelve Subsidies to be levied on your Lordships, and the Commons: Certainly there is no privilege which more properly belongs to a Parliament, then to open the purse of the Subject, and yet these Judges, who are neither capable of sitting among us in the house of Commons, nor with your Lordships, otherwise then as your assistants, have not only assumed to themselves this privilege of Parliament, but presumed at once to make a present to the Crown of all that either your Lordships or the Commons of England do, of shall hereafter possess.  
And because this man has had the boldness to put the power of Parliament in balance with the opinion of the Judges, I shall entreat your Lordships to observe by way of comparison the solemn and safe proceeding of the one, with the precipitate dispatch of the other. In Parliament (as your Lordships know well (no new Law can pass, or old be abrogated, till it has been thrice read with your Lordships, thrice in the Commons House, and then it receives the Royal Assent, so that 'tis like gold 7 times purified; whereas these Judges by this one resolution of theirs, would persuade his Majesty, that by naming necessity he might at once dissolve (at least suspend) the great Charter 32 times confirmed by his Royal progenitors, the petition of Right, and all other Laws provided for the maintenance of the Right and propriety of the Subject; a strange force (my Lords) in the sound of this word necessity, that like a Charm it should silence the Laws, while we are pispoyled of all we have: for that but a part of our goods was taken, is owing to the grace and goodness of the King; for so much as concerns these Judges, we have no more left than they perhaps may deserve to have, when your Lordships shall have passed Judgement upon them: This for the the neglect of their Oaths, and betraying that public trust, which for the conservation of our Laws was reposed in them.  
Now for the cruelty and unmercifulness of this judgement, you may please to remember that in the old Law they were forbid to seethe a Kid in his mother's milk, of which the received interpretation is, that we should not use that to the destruction of any creature which was intended for its preservation; Now (my Lords) God and Nature has given us the Sea as our best Guard against our Enemies, and our ships as our greatest glory above other Nations, and how barbarously would these men have let in the sea upon us, at once to wash away our Liberties, and to overwhelm, if not our Land, all the propriety we have therein, making the supply of our Navy, a pretence for the ruin of our Nation; for observe I beseech you the fruit and consequence of this judgement, how this money has prospered, how contrary an effect it has had to the end for which they pretended to take it: On every County a ship is annually imposed, and who would not expect, but our seas by this time should be covered with the number of our ships? Alas (my Lords) the daily Complaints of the decay of our Navy tells us how ill ship-money has maintained the Sovereignty of the sea: and by the many petitions which we receive from the wives of those miserable Captives at Algiers (being between 4 and 5 thousand of our Countrymen) it does evidently appear that to make us slaves at home, is not the way to keep us from being made slaves abroad; so fare has this judgement been from reliving the present or preventing the future necessity, that as it changed our real propriety into the shadow of a propriety, so of a feigned it has made a Real necessity.  
A little before the approach of the Gauls to Rome, while the Romans had yet no apprehension of that danger, there was heard a voice in the Air, louder than ordinary, The Gauls are come, which voice after they had sacked the City, and besieged the Capitol, was held so ominous, that Livy relates it as a Prodigy; This Anticipation of necessity seems to have been no less ominous to us; These Judges like ill boding birds have called necessity upon the State in a time when I dare say they thought themselves in greatest security; but if it seem superstitions to take this as an Omen, sure I am we may look on it as a cause of the unfeigned necessity we now suffetr for what regret and discontent had this judgement bred among us? And as when the noise and tumult in a private house grows so loud, as to be heard into the streets, it calls in the next dwellers either kindly to appease, or to make their own use of the domestic strife; so in all likelihood our known discontents at home have been a concurrent cause to invite our Neighbours to visit us so much, to the expense and trouble of both these Kingdoms.  
And here, my Lords, I cannot but take notice of the most sad effect of this oppression, the ill influence it has had upon the ancient reputation and valour of the English Nation: and no wonder, for if it be true that oppression makes a wise man mad, it may well suspend the courage of the valiant: The same happened to the Romans when for renown in Arms they most excelled the rest of the world; the story is but short, 'twas in the time of the Decem-viri. (and I think the chief-troublers of our State may make up that number,) The Decem-viri, my Lords had subverted the Laws, suspended the Courts of Justice; and (which was the greatest grievance both to the Nobility and people) had for some years omitted to assemble the Senate, which was their Parliament; This says the Historian did not only deject the Romans, and make them despair of their Liberty, but caused them to be less valued by their Neighbours: The Sabines take the advantage and invade them; and now the Decem-viri are forced to call the long desired Senate, whereof the peopie were so glad, that Hostibus belloque gratiam habuerunt: This Assembly breaks up in discontent, nevertheless the war proceeds; Forces are raised, led by some of the Decem-viri, and with the Sabines they meet in the Field; I know your Lordships expect the event; My Author's words of his Countrymen are these, Ne quid ductu aut auspicio Decemvirorum prosper gereretur, vinci se patiebantur, They chose rather to suffer a present diminution of their Honour, then by victory to confirm the tyranny of their new Masters: At their return from this unfortunate expedition, after some distempers and expostulations of the people, an other Senate, that is a second Parliament, is called, and there the Decem-viri are questioned, deprived of their Authority, imprisoned, banished, and some lose their lives; and soon after this vindication of their Liberties, the Romans by their better success made it appear to the world, that liberty and courage dwell always in the same breast, and a re never to be divorced. No doubt, my Lords, but your Justice shall have the like effect upon this dispirited people; 'tis not the restitution of our ancient Laws alone, but the restauration of our ancient courage which is expected from your Lordships: I need not say any thing to move your just indignation that this man should so cheaply give away that which your noble Ancestors with so much courage and industry had so long maintained: you have often been told how careful they were, though with the hazard of their lives and fortunes, to derive those Rights and Liberties as entire to posterity as they received from their Fathers: what they did with labour you may do with ease, what they did with danger, you may do securely, the foundation of our Laws is not shaken with the Engine of War, they are only blasted with the breath of these men, & by your breath may be restored.  
What Judgements your Predecessors have given, and what punishments their Predecessors have suffered for offences of this nature, your Lordships have already been so well informed, that I shall not trouble you with a repetition of those precedents: Only (my Lords) something I shall take leave to observe of the person with whose charge I have presented you, that you may the less doubt of the wilfulness of his offence.  
His education in the Inns of Court, his constant practice as a Counsellor, and his experience as a Judge (considered with the mischief he has done) makes it appear that this Progress of his through the Law, has been like that of a diligent Spy through a Country into which he meant to conduct an enemy.  
To let you see he did not offend for company, there is one crime so peculiar to himself, and of such malignity, that it makes him at once uncapable of your Lordship's favour, and his own subsistence incompatible with the right and propriety of the Subject: for if you leave him in a capacity of interpreting the Laws, has he not already declared his opinion, That your votes and resolutions against Ship-money are void, and that it is not in the power of a Parliament to abolish that Judgement? To him, my Lords, that has thus played with the power of Parliament, we may well apply what was once said to the Goat browsing on the Vine,  
Rode, caper, vitem, tamen hinc cum stabis ad arras In Tuaquod fundi cornua possit, erit:  
He has cropped and infringed the privileges of a banished Parliament, but now it is returned he may find it has power enough to make a Sacrifice of him, to the better establishment of out Laws; and in truth what other satisfaction can he make his injured Country, then to confirm by his example those Rights and Liberties which he had ruined by his opinion?  
For the proofs, my Lords, they are so manifest that they will give you little trouble in the disquisition; his crimes are already upon Record, the Delinquent and the Witness is the same; having from several Seats of Judicature proclaimed himself an Enemy to our Laws and Nation, Ex ore suo judicabitur. To which purpose I am commanded by the Knights, Citizens, and Burgesses of the House of Commons, to desire your Lordships that as speedy a proceeding may be had against M. Justice Crawley as the course of Parliaments will permit.   

Mr. waller's SPEECH, In the House of Commons, the fourth of July, 1643. being brought to the Bar, and having leave given him by the Speaker, to say what he could for himself.  
Mr. Speaker.  
I Acknowledge it a great mercy of God, and a great favour from you, that I am once more suffered to behold this Honourable Assembly, I mean not to make use of it to say any thing in my own defence by Justification or denial of what I have done, I have already confessed enough to make me appear, worthy not only to be put out of this House, but out of the World too. All my humble request to you is, that, if I seem to you as unworthy to live, as I do to myself, I may have the Honour to receive my death from your own hands, and not be exposed to a Trial by the Counsel of War: what ever you shall think me worthy to suffer in a Parliamentary way, is not like to find stop any where else.  
This (Sir) I hope you will be pleased for your own sakes to grant me, who am already so miserable, that nothing can be added to my calamity, but to be make the occasion of creating a Precedent to your own disadvantage; besides the right I may have to this, consider I beseech you that the eyes of the world are upon you govern in chief, and if you should expose your own members to the punishment of others, it will be thought that you either want Power, or leisure to chastise them yourselves; nor let any man despise the ill consequence of such a precedent as this would be, because he seethe not presently the inconveniences which may ensue: you have many Armies on Foot, and it is uncerteine how long you may have occasion to use them. Soldiers and Commanders (though I know well they of the Parliaments Army, excel no less in modesly than they do in Courage) are generally of a Nature ready to pretend to the utmost power of this kind, which they conceive to be due to them, and may be too apt upon any occasion of discontent to make use of such a Precedent as this. In this very Parliament you have not been without some taste of the experience hereof, it is now somewhat more than two years since you had an Army in the North, paid and directed by yourselves, and yet you may be pleased to remember there was a considerable number of Officers in that Army, which joined in a Petition or Remonstrance to this House, taking notice of what some of Members had said here, as they supposed to their disadvantage, and did little jest; then require them of you; 'tis true, there had been some tampering with them, but what has happened at one time, may wisely be thought possible to fall out again at another.  
Sir, I presume but to point you out the danger; if it be not just, I know you will not do me the wrong to expose me to this trial; if it be just your Army may another time require the same justice of you, in their own behalf, against some other Member, whom perhaps you would be less willing to part with. Necessity has of late forced you into untrodden paths; and in such a case as this where you have no precedent of your own, you may not do amiss to look abroad upon other States and Senates, which exercise the Supreme Power, as you now do here.  
I dare confidently say you shall find none either Ancient or Modern, which ever exposed any of their own order to be tried for his life by the Officers of their Armies abroad, for what he did, while he resided among them in the Senate.  
Among the Romans the practice was so contrary, that some inferior Officers in their Army fare from the City, having been sentenced by their General or Commander in chief, as deserving death by their Discipline of War, have nevertheless (because they were Senators) appealed thither, and the cause has received a new hearing in the Senate. Not to use more words to persuade you to take heed that you wound not yourselves through my sides in violating the Privileges belonging to your own persons, I shall humbly desire you to consider likewise the nature of my offence, (not but that I should be much ashamed to say any thing in diminution thereof; God knows 'tis horrid enough for the evil it might have occasioned) but if you look near it, it may perhaps appear to be rather a Civil than a Martial crime and so to have Title to a Trial at the common law of the land; ther● may justly be some difference put between me and others in this business.  
I have had nothing to do with the other Army, or any intention to begin the offer of violence to any body, It was only a civil pretence to that which I then foolishly conceived to be the right of the subject. I humbly refer it to your considerations, and to your consciences. I know you will take care not to to shed the blood of War in Peace that blood by the law of War, which hath a right to betrayed by the Law of Peace.  
For so much as concerns myself and my part in this business, (if I were worthy to have any thing spoken or patiently heard in my behalf) this might truly be said, that I made not this business, but found it, 'twas in other men's hands long before it was brought to me, and when it came I extended it not, but restrained it. For the Propositions of letting in part of the King's Army, or offering violence to the Members of this House, I ever disallowed and utterly rejected them.  
What it was that moved me to entertain discourse of this business so far as I did, I will tell you ingeniously, and that rather as a warning for others, than that it make any thing for myself; it was only an impatience of the inconveniences of the present War, looking on things with a carnal eye, and not minding that which chief (if not only) ought to have been considered, the inestimable value of the Cause you have in hand, the Cause of God and of Religion, and the necessities you are forced upon for the maintenance of the same; as a just punishment for this neglect, it pleased God to desert and suffer me with a fatal blindness, to be led on, and engaged in such Counsels as were wholly disproportioned to the rest of my life; This (Sir) my own Conscience tells me was the cause of my failing, and not malice, or any ill habit of mind, or disposition toward the Commonwealth, or to the Parliament: for from whence should I have it? If you look on my Birth, you will not find it in my blood: I am of a stock which hath born you better fruit, if you look on my education, it hath been almost from my childhood in this House, and among the best sort of men; and for the whole practice of my life till this time, if another were to speak for me, he might reasonably say, that neither my actions out of Parliament, nor my expressions in it, have savoured of disaffection or malice to the Liberties of the People, or Privileges of Parliament.  
Thus Sir, I have set before your eyes, both my person and my case, wherein I shall make no such defence by denying, or extenuating any thing I have done, as ordinarily Delinquents do, my address to you, and all my Plea shall only be such as Children use to their Parents, I have offended; I confess it, I never did any thing like it before; it is a passage unsuitable to the whole course of my life beside, and for the time to come, as God that can bring light out of darkness, hath made this business in the event useful to you, so also hath he to me: you have by it made an happy discovery of your Enemies, and I of myself, and the evil principles I walked by; so that if you look either on what I have been heretofore, or what I now am, and by God's grace assisting me, shall always continue to be, you may perhaps think me fit to be an example of your compassion and clemency.  
Sir, I shall no sooner leave you, but my life will depend on your breath, & not that alone, but the subsistence of some that are more innocent. I might therefore show you my Children, whom the rigour of your Justice would make complete Orphans, being already Motherless. I might show you a Family, wherein there are some unworthy to have their share in that mark of Infamy which now threatens us: But something there is, which if I could show you, would move you more than all this▪ it is my Heart, which abhors what I have done more, & is more severe to itself, than the severest Judge can be. A heart (Mr. Speaker) so a wakened by this affliction, and so entirely devoted to the Cause you maintain, that I earnestly desire of God to incline you, so to dispose of me, whether for life or death, as may most conduce to the advancement thereof.  
Sir, not to trouble you any longer, if I die, I shall die praying for you; if I live, I shall live serving you, and render you back the use and employment of all those days you shall add to my life.  
After this having withdrawn himself, he was called in again, and (being by the Speaker required thereto) gave them an exact account now he came first to the knowledge of this business; as also what Lords were acquainted therewith, or had engaged themselves therein.  
FINIS.