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 Charles I. [King of England) 
 From the engraving by William Faithornc
 
 THE 
 
 KINGS' 
 
 L 
 
 7 
 
 rics 
 
 Lyrical Poems of the I(eigns of 
 KING JAMES L and 
 KING CHAHLES L 
 
 Together with the Ballad of Agincourt writ' 
 ten by Michael Drayton. Selected & arranged 
 
 by Fitzlioy Carrington 
 
 The prcssc hath gathered into one, what fancic had scat- 
 tered into many loose papers. — William Habington. 
 
 Printed for Duffield if Company 
 
 NEW YORK 
 1906
 
 ENTERED according to ad of Congress, in the year 
 1899, by Robert Howard Russell, in the office of the 
 Librarian of Congress, at "Washington. 
 
 This Edition published September, 1906
 
 The Preface 
 
 J'ay seulement faid icy un amas de fleurs. n'y ayant 
 fourny du mien que le filet \ les Iier. 
 
 MICHEL DE MONTAIGNE. 
 
 IT is singular^'' writes Mr, Swin- 
 burne ^ ^uhat the first great age 
 of English lyric poetrij should have 
 been also the one great age of 
 English dramatic poetry : but it is 
 hardly less singular that the lyric 
 school should have advanced as 
 steadily as the dramatic school de- 
 clined from the promise of its dawn. 
 Born with Marlowe, it rose at once 
 with Shcdespeare to heights inac- 
 cessible before and since and for 
 ever^ to sink through bright grada- 
 tions of glorious decline to its final
 
 vi The Preface 
 
 and beautiful sunset in Shirley : 
 but the lyrical record that begins 
 with the author of ' Euphues' and 
 ^ Endymion' grows fuller if not 
 brighter through a whole chain of 
 constellations till it culminates in 
 the crowning star of Merrick . . . 
 the greatest song- writer — as sure- 
 ly as Shakespeare is the greatest 
 dramatist — ever bom of English 
 race.'' 
 
 The reasons for this growth and 
 decrease are not far to seek. 
 During the greater portion of the 
 reign of Oueen Elizabeth the 
 newly-awaked national self-con- 
 sciousness had manifested itself in 
 so many forms that the whole field 
 of literature was cultivated and
 
 The Preface vii 
 
 enriched. With the passing of 
 7/ears^ however^ and the aging 
 of the Que en ^ the spirit of play- 
 ful gallantry inseparable from a 
 female court was gradually suc- 
 ceeded by a more cold and gloomy 
 system of manners^ and the poets 
 concerned themselves more and 
 more with subfeds of an abstrad 
 or religious charader. 
 Under King James I. (whowas anx- 
 ious to pass as a sacred poet and has 
 left^ amongst other works ^ a metri- 
 cal translation of the first thirty- 
 one Psalms\ lighter poetry found 
 little encouragement and was^ in 
 general^ overweighted by the 
 growing spirit of puritanism. The 
 theatres alone seem to have been
 
 viii The Preface 
 
 the refuge of genius^ and no era of 
 English history contains so many 
 models of dramatic excellence. 
 With the accession of King Charles 
 I. the spirit of sprightliness and 
 courtly gallantry revived and 
 lyric poetry resumed its place as 
 a fine art. King Charles ivasy 
 throughout his reign, a liberal pa- 
 tron of literature., and was repaid., 
 in time of trouble., by a personal 
 affedion and a devoted loyalty 
 from the poets of his court., who 
 knew no bounds in their self-sac- 
 rifice to his cause. When soldier 
 and courtier combined in the poet 
 stirring and genuine verse was to 
 be expeded. 
 Of James Grahame., preemi-
 
 The Preface « 
 
 nently the '^King's Singer^'" Car- 
 dinal de Retz^ the friend of Conde 
 and of Turenne^ wrote — ^' Mon- 
 trose^ a Scottish nobleman^ head 
 of the house of Grahame — the 
 only man in the world that has 
 ever realized to me the ideas of 
 certain heroes^ whom we now dis- 
 cover but in the Lives of Plutarch 
 — has sustained in his own coun- 
 try the cause of the King^ his mas- 
 ter^ with a greatness of soul that 
 has not found its equal in our age. " 
 Nor were there ^ with the excep- 
 tion of Wither^ any of the ' ' courtly 
 Choir'' who deserted their King 
 when aught they could do or write 
 might help or cheer him. The se- 
 ledions from their works are as
 
 X The Preface 
 
 Julias the limits of this volume will 
 permit. 
 
 Unlike most of the anthologies a 
 fair space is here devoted to poems 
 ^^ divine and moral .'^ It is a little 
 strange that^ in general^ they have 
 been so little represented^ for as 
 genuine expressions of the spirit 
 of the age that saw the publication 
 of the first complete and cor red 
 translation into English of the 
 Bible, if for no other reason^ they 
 demand some recognition. Fortu- 
 nately the poems of such writers 
 as Herbert,, Quarles and Cra- 
 shaw are-, each year ^ less and less 
 negleded, and while few critics 
 would,, to-day,, rank Crashaw su- 
 perior to Herbert in fancy and
 
 The Preface xi 
 
 genius^ as did Ellis in " Early 
 English Poets y' none would agree 
 with the observation of the same 
 writer^ who in commenting upon 
 Wotton's statement that more than 
 ten thousand copies of Herbert s 
 poems were sold during his life- 
 time says that it was "a circum- 
 stance that proves the religious 
 zeal much more than the good 
 taste of his contemporaries,'' 
 A writer in our day expressing 
 such an opinion might run some 
 risk of being counted as one 
 
 "Who says tfiat fidlions onely and false half 
 Become a verse." 
 
 Quarles has so often been de- 
 scribed as '^quaint'' that his very 
 modern sense of humour seems to
 
 xii The Preface 
 
 have been frequently/ overlooked, 
 /lis manly vigour^ his uncompro- 
 mising independence^ his disinter- 
 ested patriotism and his exalted 
 piety can never he entirely for- 
 gotten. There is much genuine 
 poetry to be found in his volumi- 
 nous work. 
 
 In most of the extrads modern 
 spelling has been adopted except- 
 ing where it seemed^ as with Her- 
 bert and Drayton^ to be a greater 
 loss than gain. The poems of 
 Lovelace have so often been given 
 in their modem form that to see 
 them as originally printed may 
 be a not unwelcome variation. 
 It is rarely well to cor red Kings ^ 
 therefore the compositions of King
 
 The Preface xiii 
 
 James I. and King Charles /. 
 are left^ as nearly as may be^ 
 alone. 
 
 ^^Buty' as Humphrey Moseley^ 
 stationer y writes ^ ^'I keep back the 
 ingenuous reader by my unworthy 
 preface. The gate is open^ and 
 thy soul invited to a garden of 
 ravishing variety.'' 
 
 FiTZROY Carrington.
 
 Cofimodjcafe loci sz ^ynauius fcervr, omas 
 Ocfoxus ncits nuRo froicirrtte jpatcrcC 
 'itue mcttm loif^a ^mcem licef vsaue iettrint , ^^ 
 ' ^sa camtn terra ac^pelt^ ^"^ Jedita JkSrrte/c^ 
 
 QjP^ 
 
 James VL [King of Scotland) 
 From the engraving by Crispin van dc Pass
 
 The 
 
 Kings' Lyrics 
 
 King James /. (1566-1625) 
 Ane Schort Poeme of Tyme 
 
 As I was pansing in a morning aire. 
 And could not sicip nor nawyis take me rest, 
 Furth for to walk, the morning was so faire, 
 Athort the fields, it seemed to me the best. 
 The East was deare, whereby belyve I gest 
 That fyrie Titan cumming was in sight. 
 Obscuring chaste Diana by his light. 
 
 Who by his rising in the azure skyes. 
 
 Did dewlit helse all thanse on earth do dwell. 
 
 The balmy dew through birning drouth he dryis. 
 Which made the soile to savour sweit and smell. 
 By dew that on the night before downefell. 
 
 Which then was soukit up by the Delphienus heit 
 
 Up in the aire : it was so light and weit. 
 I
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 Whose hie ascending in this pofpour chere 
 Provokit all from Morpheus to flee : 
 
 As beasts to feid. and birds to sing with beir,'' 
 Men to their labour, bissie as the bee : \ 
 Yet idle men devysing did I see. 
 
 How for to drive the tyme that did them irk. 
 
 By sindrie pastymes, quhile that it grew mirk. 
 
 Then woondred I to see them seik a wyle. 
 So willingly the precious tyme to tine : 
 
 And how they did themselfis so farr begyle. 
 To fushe of tyme. which of itself is fyne. 
 Fra tyme be past to call it backward syne 
 
 Is bot in vaine : therefore men sould be warr. 
 
 To sleuth the tyme that flees fra them so farr. 
 
 For what hath man bot tyme into this life, 
 
 "Which gives him dayis his Cod aright to know ? 
 
 Wherefore then sould we be at sic a stryfe. 
 So spedelie our selfis for to withdraw 
 Evin from the tyme, which is on nowayes slaw 
 
 To flie from us, suppose we fled it nought ? 
 
 More wyse we were, if we the tyme had sought. 
 
 But sen that tyme is sic a precious thing, 
 
 I wald we sould bestow it into that 
 Which were most pleasour to our heavenly King.
 
 King James I 
 
 Flee ydilteth. which is the greatest lat ; 
 
 Bot. sen that death to all is destinat. 
 Let us employ that tyme that Cod hath send us. 
 In doing well, that good men may commend us. 
 
 Sonnet 
 
 WE find by proof, that into every age 
 In Phoebus' art some glistering star did shine, 
 "Who, worthy scholars to the Muses sage, 
 Fulfill'd their Countries with their works divine. 
 So Homer was a sounding trumpet fine 
 Amongst the Creeks, into his learned days: 
 So Virgil was among the Romans syne 
 A sprite sublim'd, a pillar of their praise I 
 So lofty Petrarch his renown did blaze 
 
 In tongue Italic, in a sugar'd style. 
 And to the circled skies his name did raise ; 
 
 For he. by poems that he did compile. 
 Led m triumph. Love, Chasteness, Death, and Fame: 
 But thou triumphs o'er Petrarch's proper name I 
 
 Signed "]. Rex." 
 A Sonnet prefixed to Fowler's Translation o/Thc Triumphs 
 of Petrarch.
 
 The Kings* Lyrics 
 A Sonnet 
 
 Addressed by King James to his son Prince 
 Henry 
 
 GOD gives not kings the stile of Cods in vaine. 
 For on his throne his scepter do they swey : 
 And as their subjects ought them to obey. 
 So kings should feare and serve their God againe. 
 If then ye would enjoy a happie reigne. 
 Observe the statutes of our heavenly King ; 
 And from his law make all your laws to spring : 
 Since his lieutenant here ye should remaine. 
 Rewarde the just, be stedfast, true and plaine : 
 Represse the proud, maintayning aye the right ; 
 Waike always so, as ever in His sight. 
 Who guardes the godly, plaguing the prophane. 
 And so ye shall in princely vertues shine. 
 Resembling right your mightie King divine. 
 
 Thomas Campion (—1619) 
 
 H 
 
 ARDEN now thy tired heart with more than 
 
 flinty rage ! 
 Ne'er let her false tears henceforth thy constant 
 grief assuage ! 
 
 4
 
 James I. {King of England) 
 From the engraving by Simon van de Pass
 
 Thomas Campion 
 
 Once true happy days thou saw'st, when she stood firm 
 
 and kind ; 
 Both as one then lived, and held one ear, one tongue, 
 
 one mind : 
 But now those bright hours be fled and never may return : 
 What then remains but her untruths to mourn ! 
 
 Silly trait'ress. who shall now thy careless tresses place ? 
 Who thy pretty talk supply ? whose ear thy music grace ? 
 Who shall thy bright eyes admire, what lips triumph 
 
 with thine ? 
 Day by day who '11 visit thee and say " Th' art only mine " ? 
 Such a time there was, God wot, but such shall never be. 
 Too oft, I fear, thou wilt remember me. 
 
 From Two Books of Airs. 
 
 LOVE me or not, love her I must or die ; 
 Leave me or not, follow her needs must I. 
 O that her grace would my wished comforts give I 
 How rich in her, how happy I should live ! 
 
 All my desire, all my delight should be 
 Her to enjoy, her to unite with me ; 
 Envy should cease, her would I love alone: 
 Who loves by looks is seldom true to one. 
 5
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 Could I enchant, and that it lawful ■wefc. 
 Her would I charm softly that none should hear; 
 But love enforced rarely yields firm content : 
 So would I love that neither should repent. 
 
 From The Fourth Book of Airs. 
 
 The Bellman s Song 
 
 MAIDS to bed and cover coal ; 
 Let the mouse out of her hole ; 
 Crickets in the chimney sing 
 Whilst the little bell doth ring : 
 If fast asleep, who can tell 
 When the clapper hits the bell ? 
 
 from Mclismata. 
 
 NEVER love unless you can 
 Bear with all the faults of man : 
 Men sometimes will jealous be 
 Though but little cause they see : 
 And hang the head as discontent. 
 And speak what straight they will repent. 
 
 Men that but one saint adore 
 Make a show of love to more : 
 6
 
 Thomas Campion 
 
 Beauty must be scorned in none. 
 Though but truly served in one : 
 For what is courtship but disguise ? 
 True hearts may have dissemblmg eyes. 
 
 Men when their affairs require. 
 Must awhile themselves retire ; 
 Sometimes hunt and sometimes hawk. 
 And not ever sit and talk : 
 If these and such-Iike you can bear. 
 Then like, and love, and never fear ! 
 
 From The Third Book of Airs. 
 
 NOW winter nights enlarge 
 The number of their hours. 
 And clouds their storms discharge 
 Upon the airy towers. 
 Now let the chimneys blaze. 
 And cups o'erflow with wine; 
 Let well-tuned words amaze 
 With harmony divine. 
 Now yellow waxen lights 
 Shall wait on honey love. 
 
 While youthful revels, masques, and courtly sights 
 Sleep's leaden spells remove. 
 7
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 This time doth well dispense 
 
 With lovers' long discourse; 
 
 Much speech hath some defense 
 
 Though beauty no remorse. 
 
 All do not all things well ; 
 
 Some measures comely tread. 
 
 Some knotted riddles tell. 
 
 Some poems smoothly read. 
 
 The summer hath his joys 
 
 And winter his delights ; 
 
 Though love and all his pleasures are but toys. 
 
 They shorten tedious nights. 
 
 From The Third Book of Airs. 
 
 Cherry I(ipe 
 
 THERE is a garden in her face 
 Where roses and white lilies grow : 
 A heavenly paradise is that place 
 Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow. 
 
 There cherries grow which none may buy. 
 Till "Cherry ripe" themselves do cry. 
 
 Those cherries fairly do enclose 
 Of orient pearl a double row. 
 Which when her lovely laughter shows, 
 8
 
 Robert Jones 
 
 They look like rose-buds filled with snow ; 
 Yet them nor peer nor prince can buy. 
 Till "Cherry ripe" themselves do cry. 
 
 Her eyes, like angels, watch them still. 
 Her brows like bended bows do stand. 
 Threatening with piercing frowns to kill 
 All that attempt with eye or hand 
 Those sacred cherries to come nigh 
 Till "Cherry ripe" themselves do cry. 
 
 From The Fourth Book of Airs. 
 
 Robert Jones 
 
 AND is it night ? are they thine eyes that shine ? 
 Are we alone, and here ? and here, alone ? 
 May I come near, may I but touch thy shrine ? 
 Is jealousy asleep, and is he gone ? 
 O Gods, no more ! silence my lips with thine f 
 Lips, kisses, joys, hap, blessing most divine ! 
 
 O come, my dear ! our griefs are turn'd to night. 
 
 And night to joys ; night blinds pale envy's eyes ; 
 Silence and sleep prepare us our delight, 
 
 O cease we then our woes, our griefs, our cries: 
 O vanish words ! words do but passions move : 
 O dearest life ! joy's sweet ! O sweetest love ! 
 
 Yrom The Mosicil Dream, 
 o
 
 The Kings* Lyrics 
 
 SOFT, Cupid, soft, there is no haste. 
 For all unkindness gone and past : 
 Since thou wilt needs forsake me so. 
 Let us part friends before thou go. 
 
 Still shalt thou have my heart to use, — 
 When otherwise I cannot chuse : 
 My life thou mayst command sans doubt. 
 Command, I say, — and go without. 
 
 And if that I do ever prove 
 False and unkind to gentle Love, 
 I '11 not desire to live a day 
 Nor any longer — than I may. 
 
 I '11 daily bless the little god, — 
 But not without a smarting rod. 
 Wilt thou still unkindly leave me ? 
 Now I pray Cod, — all ill go with thee! 
 
 From The Mdscs' Garden of Delights 
 
 THE sea hath many thousand sands. 
 The sun hath motes as many ; 
 The sky is full of stars, and love 
 As full of woes as any- 
 Believe me. that do know the elL 
 And make no trial by thyself. 
 
 10
 
 Thomas Vauter 
 
 It is in truth a pretty toy 
 
 For babes to play withal ; 
 
 But O the homes of our youth 
 
 Are oft our age's gall ! 
 
 Self -proof in time will make thee know 
 
 He was a prophet told thee so : 
 
 A prophet that. Cassandra-like, 
 
 Tells truth without belief ; 
 
 For headstrong youth will run his race. 
 
 Although his goal be grief : 
 
 Love's martyr, when his heat is past. 
 
 Proves Care's confessor at the last. 
 
 From The Moses' Garden of Delights. 
 
 Thomas Vauter 
 
 TuwhoOy Tuwhit, Tuwhit, 
 Tuwhoo-o-o 
 
 s 
 
 WEET Suffolk owl, so trimly dight 
 With feathers like a lady bright. 
 Thou sing'st alone, sitting by night, 
 Te whit, te whoo I
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 Thy note, that forth so freely rolls. 
 
 With shrill command the mouse controls. 
 And sings a dirge for dying souls, 
 Te whit, te whoo ! 
 
 From Songs of Divers Airs and Natures. 
 
 Thomas Middleton (i^-jol-ibij) 
 
 Simplicity 
 
 HAPPY times we live to see. 
 Whose master is Simplicity : 
 This is the age where blessings flow. 
 In joy we reap, in peace we sow ; 
 We do good deeds without delay. 
 We promise and we keep our day; 
 We love for virtue, not for wealth. 
 We drink no healths but all for health ; 
 We sing, we dance, we pipe, we play. 
 Our work's continual holiday ; 
 We live in poor contented sort. 
 Yet neither beg nor come at court. 
 
 Yrom The World tost at Tennis. 
 
 13
 
 H. Farley 
 
 Henry Farley 
 A Complaint 
 
 To see a strange outlandish fowl, 
 A quaint baboon, an ape, an owl, 
 A dancing bear, a giant's bone, 
 
 A foolish engine move alone, 
 
 A morns-dance, a puppet-play. 
 
 Mad Tom to sing a roundelay, 
 
 A woman dancing on a rope, 
 
 BuII-baiting also at the Hope. 
 
 A rimer's jests, a juggler's cheats. 
 
 A tumbler showing cunning feats. 
 
 Or players acting on a stage, — 
 
 There goes the bounty of our age : 
 But unto any pious motion 
 There's little coin and less devotion. 
 
 From St. Paul's Church, her Bill for the Partimcnt. 
 
 Q
 
 The Kings* Lyrics 
 
 William Drummond (1585-1649) 
 To a Nightingale 
 
 SWEET bird, that sing'st away the early hours 
 Of winters past, or coming, void of care. 
 Well pleased with delights which present are. 
 Fair seasons, budding sprays, sweet-smelling flow'rs : 
 To rocks, to springs, to nils, from leavy bow'rs 
 Thou thy Creator's goodness dost declare. 
 And what dear gifts on thee he did not spare, 
 A stain to human sense in sin that low'rs. 
 What soul can be so sick, which by thy songs 
 (Attir'd in sweetness) sweetly is not driven 
 Quite to forget earth's turmoils, spites, and wrongs. 
 And lift a reverend eye and thought to heaven ? 
 Sweet, artless songster, thou my mind dost raise 
 To airs of spheres, yes, and to angels' lays. 
 
 Sonnet II 
 
 1KNOW that all beneath the moon decays. 
 And what by mortals in this -w 'Id is brought 
 In Time's great periods shall return to nought: 
 That fairest states have fatal nights and days. 
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 William Drummond of Hawihornden 
 After the painting by Cornelius Johnson
 
 William Drummond 
 
 I know that all the Muses' heavenly lays. 
 With toil of sprite, which are so dearly bought. 
 As idle sounds, of few or none are sought : 
 That there is nothing lighter than vain praise. 
 I know frail beauty 's like the purple flow'r. 
 To which one morn oft birth and death affords: 
 That love a jarring is of mind's accords. 
 Where sense and will bring under reason's power ; 
 Know what I list, this all cannot me move. 
 But that, alas. I both must write and love. 
 
 Sonnet XXXVI 
 
 PHOEBUS, arise. 
 And paint the sable skies 
 With azure, white, and red : 
 Rouse Memnon's mother from her Tython's bed. 
 That she thy career may with roses spread. 
 The nightingales thy coming each where sing. 
 Make an eternal spring. 
 Give life to this dark world which lieth dead ; 
 Spread forth thy golden hair 
 In larger locks than thou wast wont before. 
 And emperor-like decore 
 With diadem of pearls thy temples fair : 
 Chase hence the ugly night, 
 •5
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 Which serves but to make dear thy glorious light. 
 This is that happy morn. 
 That day. long-wished day. 
 Of all my life so dark, 
 (If cruel stars have not my ruin sworn. 
 And Fates my hopes betray) 
 Which (purely white) deserves 
 An everlasting diamond should it mark. 
 This is the morn should bring unto this grove 
 My love, to hear, and recompense my love. 
 Fair king, who all preserves. 
 But shew thy blushing beams. 
 And thou two sweeter eyes 
 Shalt see than those which by Peneus* streams 
 Did once thy heart surprise : 
 Nay, suns which shine as clear 
 As thou when two thou didst to Rome appear. 
 Now, Flora, deck thyself in fairest guise. 
 If that ye winds would hear 
 A voice surpassing far Amphion's lyre. 
 Your furious chiding stay. 
 Let Zephyr only breathe. 
 And with her tresses play. 
 Kissing sometimes those purple ports of death. 
 The winds all silent are. 
 And Phoebus in his chaif, 
 Ensaffroning sea and air, 
 i6
 
 William Drummond 
 
 Makes vanish every star : 
 
 Night like a drunkard reels 
 
 Beyond the hills, to shun his flaming wheels. 
 
 The fields with flow'rs are deck'd in every hue. 
 
 The clouds with orient gold spangle their blue : 
 
 Here is the pleasant place. 
 
 And nothing wanting is, save she, alas ! 
 
 Sonnet LXX 
 
 SWEET Spring, thou com'st with all thy goodly 
 train. 
 Thy head with flames, thy mantle bright with 
 flow'rs. 
 The zephyrs curl the green locks of the plain. 
 The clouds for joy in pearls weep down their show'rs. 
 Sweet Spring, thou com'st — but, ah ! my pleasant hours. 
 And happy days, with thee come not again : 
 The sad memorials only of my pain 
 Do with thee come, which turn my sweets to sours. 
 Thou art the same which still thou wert before, 
 Delicious, lusty, amiable, fair; 
 But she whose breath embalm 'd thy wholesome aif 
 Is gone ; nor gold, nor gems can her restore. 
 Negleded virtue, seasons go and come. 
 When thine forgot lie closed in a tomb. 
 7
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 Sonnet LXXIII 
 
 'Y lute, be as thou wert when thou didst grow 
 With thy green mother in some shady grove. 
 When immelodious winds but made thee move. 
 And birds their ramage did on thee bestow. 
 Since that dear voice which did thy sounds approve. 
 Which wont in such harmonious strains to flow. 
 Is reft from earth to tune those spheres above. 
 What art thou but a harbinger of woe ? 
 Thy pleasing notes be pleasing notes no more. 
 But orphans' wailings to the fainting ear. 
 Each stroke a sigh, each sound draws forth a tear. 
 For which be silent as in woods before : 
 Or if that any hand to touch thee deign. 
 Like widow'd turtle still her loss complain. 
 
 Of a Bee 
 
 ODO not kill that bee 
 That thus hath wounded thee I 
 Sweet, it was no despite. 
 But hue did him deceive : 
 For when thy lips did close. 
 He deemed them a rose. 
 i8
 
 King Charles I 
 
 What -wouldst thou further crave ? 
 
 He wanting wit. and blinded with delight. 
 
 Would fain have kiss'd. but mad with joy did bite. 
 
 King Charles I. (1600-1649) 
 Majefty in Mifery 
 
 GREAT Monarch of the world, from whose power 
 springs 
 The potency and power of kings. 
 Record the royal woe my suffering sings : 
 
 And teach my tongue, that ever did confine 
 
 Its faculties m truth's seraphick line. 
 
 To track the treasons of thy foes and mine. 
 
 Nature and law, by thy divine decree, 
 (The only root of righteous royaltie) 
 With this dim diadem invested me : 
 
 With it, the sacred scepter, purple robe. 
 The holy undion, and the royal globe : 
 Yet am I levell'd with the life of Job. 
 
 The fiercest furies, that do daily tread 
 Upon my grief, my grey discrowned head. 
 Are those that owe my bounty for their bread. 
 •9
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 They raise a -war. and christen it THE CAUSE, 
 While sacriligeous hands have best applause. 
 Plunder and murder are the kingdom's laws ; 
 
 Tyranny bears the title of taxation. 
 Revenge and robbery are reformation. 
 Oppression gains the name of sequestration. 
 
 My loyal subjeds, who in this bad season 
 Attend me (by the law of God and reason). 
 They dare impeach, and punish for high treason. 
 
 Next at the clergy do their furies frown. 
 
 Pious episcopacy must go down. 
 
 They will destroy the crosier and the crown. 
 
 Churchmen are chain'd and schismaticks are freed, 
 Mechanicks preach, and holy fathers bleed. 
 The crown is crucified with the creed. 
 
 The Church of England doth all fadtions foster. 
 The pulpit is userpt by each impostor. 
 Extempore excludes the Paternoster. 
 
 The Presbyter and Independent seed 
 Spring with broad blades. To make religion bleed 
 Herod and Pontius Pilate are agreed. 
 20
 
 King Charles I 
 
 The corner stone's misplac'd by every pavier : 
 With such a bloody method and behaviour 
 Their ancestors did crucifie our Saviour. 
 
 My royal consort, from whose fruitful womb 
 So many princes legally have come. 
 Is forc'd in pilgrimage to seek a tomb. 
 
 Great Britain's heir is forced into France, 
 Whilst on his father's head his foes advance : 
 Poor child ! he weeps out his inheritance. 
 
 With my own power my majesty they wound. 
 In the king's name the king himself's uncrown'A, 
 So doth the dust destroy the diamond. 
 
 With propositions daily they enchant 
 My people's ears, such as do reason daunt. 
 And the Almighty will not let me grant. 
 
 They promise to ercd my royal stem. 
 To make me great, t' advance my diadem. 
 If I will first fall down, and worship them I 
 
 But for refusal they devour my thrones. 
 Distress my children, and destroy my bones: 
 I fear they 'U force me to make bread of stones. 
 31
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 My life they prize at such a slender rate. 
 That in my absence they draw bills of hate. 
 To prove the king a traytor to the state. 
 
 Felons obtain more privilege than I, 
 They are allow 'd to answer ere they die ; 
 'Tis death for me to ask the reason why. 
 
 But, sacred Saviour, with thy words I woo 
 
 Thee to forgive, and not be bitter to 
 
 Such, as thou know'st do not know what they do. 
 
 For. since they from their Lord are so disjointed. 
 As to contemn those edidls he appointed. 
 How can they prize the power of his anointed? 
 
 Augment my patience, nullifie my hate. 
 
 Preserve my issue, and inspire my mate. 
 
 Yet. though we perish, BLESS THIS CHURCH AND 
 
 STATE. 
 
 Written while prisoner in Carisbrook Castle. 
 
 On a Ouiet Con/cience 
 
 LOSE thine eyes, and sleep secure : 
 Thy soul is safe, thy body sure. 
 He that guards thee, he that keeps, 
 
 22 
 
 C
 
 George Sandys 
 
 Never slumbers, never sleeps. 
 
 A quiet conscience in the breast 
 
 Has only peace, has only rest. 
 
 The wisest and the mirth of kings 
 
 Are out of tune unless she sings : 
 
 Then close thine eyes in peace ani sleep secure. 
 
 No sleep so sweet as thine, no rest so sure. 
 
 George Sandys (1577-1643) 
 To King Charles I. 
 
 THE Muse who from your influence took her birth. 
 First wander'd through the many-peopled earth : 
 Next sung the change of things, disclos'd th' un- 
 known. 
 Then to a nobler shape transform 'd her own: 
 Fetch'd from Engaddi spice, from Jewry balm. 
 And bound her brows with Idumaan palm ; 
 Now, old. hath her last voyage made, and brought 
 To royal harbour this her sacred fraught : 
 Who to her King bequeathes the wealth of kings; 
 And dying, her own epicedium sings. 
 
 ^3
 
 The Kings* Lyrics 
 To the Queen 
 
 CHASTE Nymph, you -who extradted are 
 From that swift Thunderbolt of war : * 
 Whose innocence and meekness prove 
 An eagle may beget a dove ; 
 In this clear mirror you may find 
 The image of your own fair mind ; 
 With each attractive excellence. 
 Which feasts the more refined sense : 
 The crowned muse from heav'n inspir'd 
 With such rich beauties hath attir'd 
 The Sacred Spouse : for what below 
 The sun could more perfection show ? 
 Dedication 0/ A Paraphrase upon the Songs of Solomon. 
 
 THOU brought'st me home in safety, that this earth 
 Might bury me, which fed me from my birth : 
 Blest with a healthful age. a quiet mind. 
 Content with little, to this work design'd : 
 Which I at length have finish'd by Thy aid. 
 And now my vows have at Thy altar paid. 
 From Deo Opt. Max. at the conclusion of the Paraphrases. 
 
 * Henrietta Maria, daughter of Henry IV. of France.
 
 James Graham [Marquis of Montrose) 
 From the engraving by Houbrakcn 
 after the painting by William Dobson
 
 J. Grahame 
 
 James Grahame^ Marquis of 
 Montr of e (i6i 2-1650) 
 
 My Dear and Only Love 
 
 MY dear and only love, I pray 
 That little world. — of Thee,— 
 Be governed by no other way 
 Than purest monarchy. 
 For if confusion have a part. 
 
 Which virtuous souls abhor, 
 I'll call a Synod in mine heart. 
 And never love thee more. 
 
 As Alexander I will reign. 
 
 And I will reign alone : 
 My thoughts did evermore disdain 
 
 A rival on my throne : 
 He either fears his fate too much. 
 
 Or his deserts are small. 
 That dares not put it to the touch. 
 
 To gain or lose it all. 
 
 ^5
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 But I will reign and govern still. 
 
 And always give the law. 
 And have each subjecll at my will. 
 
 And have all stand in awe. 
 But 'gainst my batteries if I find 
 
 Thou kick or vex me sore. 
 As that thou set me up a blind, 
 
 I '11 never love thee more. 
 
 And in the empire of thine heart. 
 
 Where I should solely be. 
 If others do pretend a part. 
 
 Or dare to vie with me : 
 Or if committees thou eredl. 
 
 And go on such a score, 
 I '11 laugh and sing at thy negledt. 
 
 And never love thee more. 
 
 But if thou wilt prove faithful then. 
 
 And constant of thy word, 
 I'll make thee famous by my pen. 
 
 And glorious by my sword: 
 I '11 serve thee in such noble ways 
 
 Was never heard before, 
 I '11 crown and deck thee all with bays. 
 
 And love thee more and more. 
 26
 
 George Wither 
 From the engraving by John Payne
 
 George Wither 
 On the Execution of Charles /. 
 
 GREAT, good, and just, could I but rate 
 My grief with thy too rigid fate. 
 I 'd weep the world m such a strain 
 As It should deluge once again ; 
 But since thy loud-tongued blood demands supplies 
 More from Bnareus' hands than Argus' eyes. 
 I 'II sing thy obsequies with trumpet sounds. 
 And write thy epitaph in blood and wounds. 
 
 George Wither (1588-1667) 
 
 Sonnet 
 
 SHALL I, wasting in despair. 
 Die because a woman's fair ? 
 Or make pale my cheeks with care 
 'Cause another's rosy are ? 
 Be she fairer than the day. 
 Or the flowery meads in May ; 
 If she be not so to me. 
 What care I how fair she be ? 
 
 27
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 Shall my foolish heart be pin'd. 
 
 'Cause I see a woman kind ? 
 
 Or a well-disposed nature 
 
 Joined with a lovely feature ? 
 
 Be she meeker, kinder, than 
 
 Turtle-dove or pelican ; 
 If she be not so to me. 
 What care I how kind she be ? 
 
 Shall a woman's virtues move 
 Me to perish for her love ? 
 Or her merit's value known. 
 Make me quite forget mine own ? 
 Be she with that goodness blest 
 Which may gain her name of best; 
 
 If she be not such to me. 
 
 What care I how good she be ? 
 
 'Cause her fortune seems too high. 
 Shall I play the fool and die ? 
 Those that bear a noble mind 
 Where they want of riches find. 
 Think what with them they would do. 
 That without them dare to woo ; 
 
 And unless that mind I see. 
 
 What care I though great she be ? 
 
 38
 
 George Wither 
 
 Great, of good, of kind, of fair, 
 I -will ne'ef the more despair: 
 If she love me, this believe, 
 I will die e'er she shall grieve : 
 If she slight me -when I woo, 
 I can scorn and let her go : 
 For if she be not for me. 
 What care I for whom she be ? 
 
 Sonnet upon a Stolen Kifs 
 
 Now gentle sleep hath closed up those eyes 
 Which, waking, kept my boldest thoughts in awe ! 
 And free access unto that sweet lip lies. 
 From whence I long the rosy breath to draw. 
 Methinks no wrong it were, if I should steal 
 From those two melting rubies, one poor kiss ; 
 None sees the theft that would the theft reveal. 
 Nor rob I her of ought what she can miss : 
 Nay should I twenty kisses take away. 
 There would be little sign I would do so ; 
 Why then should I this robbery delay ? 
 Oh ! she may wake, and therewith angry grow I 
 Well, if she do, I '11 back restore that one. 
 And twenty hundred thousand more for loan. 
 29
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 AMARYLLIS I did woo. 
 And I courted Phillis too ; 
 Daphne for her love I chose ; 
 Chloris for that damask rose 
 In her cheek I held as dear ; 
 Yea, a thousand Iik'd. well-near; 
 And, in love with all together. 
 Feared the enjoying either; 
 'Cause to be of one possest, 
 Barr'd the hope of all the rest. 
 
 LORDLY gallants, tell me this : 
 Though my safe content you weigh not. 
 In your greatness what one bliss 
 Have you gain'd that I enjoy not ? 
 You have honours, you have wealth; 
 I have peace, and I have health ; 
 All the day I merry make. 
 And at night no care I take. 
 
 Bound to none my fortunes be ; 
 
 This or that man's fall I fear not; 
 Him I love that loveth me : 
 
 For the rest a pin I care not. 
 30
 
 George Wither 
 
 You are sad when others chafe. 
 And grow merry as they laugh ! 
 I, that hate it. and am free. 
 Laugh and weep as pleaseth me. 
 
 HENCE, away, thou Siren, leave me ! 
 Pish ! unclasp these wanton arms ! 
 Sugar'd words can ne'er deceive me. 
 Though thou prove a thousand charms. 
 Fie, fie, forbear! 
 No common snare 
 Can ever my affedion chain : 
 Thy painted baits. 
 And poor deceits. 
 Are all bestow'd on me in vain. 
 
 I 'm no slave to such as you be. 
 
 Nor shall that soft snowy breast. 
 Rolling eye. and lip of ruby. 
 Ever rob me of my rest. 
 Co. go display 
 Thy beauty's ray 
 To some more-sooa-enaraour'd swain : 
 
 3'
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 Those forced wiles 
 Of sighs and smiles 
 Are all bestow'd on me in vain. 
 
 I have elsewhere vow'd a duty; 
 Turn away thy tempting eye : 
 Shew not me thy painted beauty ; 
 These impostures I defy. 
 
 My spirit loaths 
 
 Where gaudy clothes 
 And feigned oaths may love obtain : 
 
 I love her so 
 
 Whose looks swear no 
 That all thy labour will be vain. 
 
 Can he prize the tainted posies 
 
 Which on other's breast are worn. 
 That may pluck the virgin roses 
 From the never-touched thorn? 
 
 I can go rest 
 
 On her sweet breast 
 That is the pride of Cynthia's train : 
 
 Then stay thy tongue. 
 
 Thy mermaid song 
 Is all bestow'd on me in vain. 
 
 3'
 
 George Wither 
 
 He 's a fool that basely dallies 
 
 Where each peasant mates with him. 
 Shall I haunt the thronged vallies. 
 "Whilst there *s noble hills to dimb ? 
 No, no: — though clowns 
 Are scar'd with frowns, 
 I know the best can but disdain : 
 And those I '11 prove. 
 So will thy love 
 Be all bestow'd on me in vain. 
 
 I do scorn to vow a duty 
 
 Where each lustful lad may woo 
 Give me her whose sun-like beauty 
 Buzzards dare not soar unto. 
 She. she it is 
 Affords that bliss 
 For which I would refuse no pain : 
 But such as you. 
 Fond fools, adieu ! 
 You seek to captive me in vain. 
 
 33
 
 The Kings* Lyrics 
 
 Leave me then, thou Siren. leave me I 
 Seek no more to work my harms : 
 Crafty wiles cannot deceive me ; 
 I am proof against your charms. 
 
 You labour may 
 
 To lead astray 
 The heart that constant shall remain ; 
 
 And I the while 
 
 Will sit and smile 
 To see you spend your time in vain. 
 
 A Dirge 
 
 FAREWELL. 
 
 Sweet groves, to yon 1 
 
 You hills that highest dwell. 
 
 And all you humble vales adieu I 
 
 Yon wanton brooks, and solitary rocks ; 
 
 My dear companions all, and you my tender flocks I 
 
 Fare wcll,my pipe ! and all those pleasing songs,whosc moving strains 
 
 Delighted once the fairest nymphs that dance upon the plains. 
 
 Yon discontents, whose deep and over-deadly smart 
 
 Have without pity broke the truest heart. 
 
 Sighs, tears, and every sad annoy. 
 
 That erst did with me dwell. 
 
 And others joy 
 
 Farewell I 
 
 34
 
 W. Browne 
 
 William Browne (1590-1650?) 
 Song of the Sirens 
 
 STEER hither, steer your winged pines. 
 All-beaten mariners! 
 
 Here lie Love's undiscovered mines, 
 
 A prey to passengers ; 
 Perfumes far sweeter than the best 
 Which make the Phcenix' urn and nest. 
 
 Fear not your ships. 
 Nor any to oppose you save our lips ; 
 
 But come on shore 
 Where no joy dies till love nath gotten more. 
 
 For swelling waves our panting breasts. 
 
 Where never storms arise. 
 Exchange, and be awhile our guests : 
 
 For stars gaze on our eyes. 
 The compass love shall hourly sing. 
 And as he goes about the ring. 
 
 We will not miss 
 To tell each point he nameth with a kiss. 
 Chorus : 
 
 Then come on shore. 
 Where no joy dies till love hath gotten more. 
 
 From The Inner Temple Masque. 
 
 35
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 Venus and Adonis 
 
 VENUS by Adonis' side 
 Crying kiss'd and kissing cried ; 
 Wrung her hands and tore her haif 
 For Adonis dying there. 
 
 Stay ! quoth she : O stay and live f 
 Nature surely does not give 
 To the earth her sweetest flowers 
 To be seen but some few hours. 
 
 On his face, still as he bled. 
 For each drop a tear she shed. 
 Which she kiss'd or wiped away. — 
 Else had drown'd him where he lay. 
 
 Fair Proserpina, quoth she. 
 Shall not have thee yet from me ; 
 Nor thy soul to fly begin 
 While my lips can keep it in. 
 
 Here she closed again. And some 
 Say — Apollo would have come 
 To have cured his wounded limb — 
 But that she had smother'd him. 
 36
 
 Robert Herrick 
 From the engraving by William Marshall
 
 R. Herrick 
 
 Robert Herrick (1591-1674) 
 
 Delight in Diforder 
 
 A SWEET disorder in the dress 
 Kindles in clothes a wantonness : 
 A lawn about the shoulders thrown 
 Into a fine distradtion : 
 An erring lace which here and there 
 Enthrals the crimson stomacher : 
 A cuff neglecitful, and thereby 
 Ribbons to flow confusedly : 
 A winning wave, deserving note. 
 In the tempestuous petticoat : 
 A careless shoe-string, in whose tie 
 I see a wild civility : 
 Do more bewitch me than when art 
 Is too precise in every part. 
 
 The Bag of the Bee 
 
 A 
 
 BOUT the sweet bag of a bee 
 
 Two cupids fell at odds. 
 And whose the pretty prize should be 
 They vow'd to ask the gods. 
 37
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 Which Venus hearing, thithef came. 
 And for their boldness stripp'd them. 
 
 And. taking thence from each his flame. 
 With tods of myrtle whipp'd them. 
 
 Which done, to still their wanton cries. 
 When quiet grown she'd seen them. 
 
 She kiss'd, and wip'd their dove-hke eyes. 
 And gave the bag between them. 
 
 The Captivd Bee^ or the Little 
 Filcher 
 
 As Julia once a-slumbering lay 
 It chanced a bee did fly that way. 
 After a dew or dew-Iike shower. 
 To tipple freely in a flower. 
 For some rich flower he took the lip 
 Of Julia, and began to sip ; 
 But when he felt he sucked from thence 
 Honey, and in the quintessence. 
 He drank so much he scarce could stir. 
 So Julia took the pilferer. 
 38
 
 Robert Herrick 
 
 And thus surprised, as filchers use. 
 He thus began himself t' excuse : 
 Sweet lady-flower, I never brought 
 Hither the least one thieving thought ; 
 But. taking those rare lips of yours 
 For some fresh, fragrant. luscious flowers. 
 I thought I might there take a taste. 
 Where so much syrup ran at waste. 
 Besides, know this : I never sting 
 The flower that gives me nourishing ; 
 But with a kiss, or thanks, do pay 
 For honey that I bear away. 
 This said, he laid his little scrip 
 Of honey 'fore her ladyship : 
 And told her, as some tears did fall. 
 That that he took, and that was all. 
 At which she smiled, and bade him go 
 And take his bag ; but thus much know : 
 When next he came a-pilfering so. 
 He should from her full lips derive 
 Honey enough to fill his hive. 
 
 39
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 To the Virgins^ to Make Much 
 of Time 
 
 GATHER ye rosebuds while ye may. 
 Old time is stiU a-flying : 
 And this same flower that smiles to-day 
 To-morrow will be dying. 
 
 The glorious lamp of heaven, the son. 
 
 The higher he 's a-getting. 
 The sooner will his race be run. 
 
 And nearer he 's to setting. 
 
 That age is best which is the first, 
 "When youth and blood are warmer; 
 
 But being spent, the worse, and worst 
 Times still succeed the former. 
 
 Then be not coy. but use your time. 
 
 And while ye may go marry : 
 For having lost but once your prime 
 
 You may for ever tarry. 
 
 40
 
 Robert Herrick 
 Upon Cupid 
 
 As lately I a garland bound, 
 'Mongst roses I there Cupid found 
 I took him. put him in my cup. 
 And drunk with wine. I drank him up. 
 Hence then it is that my poor breast 
 Could never since find any rest. 
 
 To Meadows 
 
 E have been fresh and green. 
 
 Ye have been fill'd with flowers. 
 And ye the walks have been 
 Where maids have spent their hours. 
 
 Y 
 
 You have beheld how they 
 With wicker arks did come 
 
 To kiss and bear away 
 The richer cowslips home. 
 
 You 've heard them sweetly sing. 
 And seen them in a round : 
 
 Each virgin like a spring. 
 With honeysuckles crown'd. 
 
 4»
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 But now we see none here 
 Whose silvery feet did tread. 
 
 And with dishevell'd hair 
 Adorn'd this smoother mead. 
 
 Like unthrifts, having spent 
 Your stock and needy grown. 
 
 You 're left here to lament 
 Your poor estates, alone. 
 
 Devotion Makes the Deity 
 
 HO forms a godhead out of gold or stone 
 Makes not a god, but he that prays to one. 
 
 w 
 
 F 
 
 To Daffodils 
 
 AIR daffodils, we weep to see 
 You hastf away so soon ; 
 As yet the early-rising sun 
 Has not attain'd his noon. 
 Stay, stay. 
 Until the hasting day 
 Has run 
 
 42
 
 Robert Herrick 
 
 But to the evensong ; 
 And, having prayed together, we 
 Will go with you along. 
 
 We have short time to stay, as you. 
 
 We have as short a spring ; 
 As quick a growth to meet decay. 
 As you, or anything. 
 We die. 
 As your hours do, and dry 
 
 Away, 
 Like to the summer's rain ; 
 Or as the pearls of morning's dew. 
 Ne'er to be found again. 
 
 To Daifiesy not to Shut fo Soon 
 
 SHUT not so soon : the dull-ey'd night 
 Has not as yet begun 
 To make a seizure on the light. 
 Or to seal up the sun. 
 
 No marigolds yet closed are. 
 
 No shadows great appear; 
 Nor doth the early shepherd's star 
 
 Shine like a spangle here. 
 43
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 Stay but till my Julia close 
 
 Her life-begetting eye. 
 And let the whole world then dispose 
 
 Itself to live or die. 
 
 To B/offoms 
 
 FAIR pledges of a fruitful tree. 
 Why do ye fall so fast? 
 Your date is not so past 
 But you may stay yet here a while. 
 To blush and gently smile : 
 And go at last. 
 
 What ! were ye born to be 
 An hour or half's delight. 
 And so to bid good-night ? 
 
 Twas pity Nature brought ye forth 
 Merely to show your worth. 
 And lose you quite. 
 
 But you are lovely leaves, where we 
 r May read how soon things have 
 Their end, though ne'er so brave : 
 And after they have shown their pride 
 Like you a while, they glide 
 Into the grave. 
 44
 
 ■ 
 
 mfW^ 
 
 ^^^^TE^'^^HH^^H 
 
 Hjl 
 
 W'-l^- ( 
 
 ^'"^1 
 
 ^^H| 
 
 
 h^^ %i>^^^^^^H 
 
 H^H 
 
 R^-^ 
 
 %JS' ^!^H^^^I 
 
 1 
 
 pr^-^ 
 
 lKj^?e J^^^^^l 
 
 1 
 
 Pku^^^^a 
 
 ■ 
 
 George Herbert 
 After the engraving by R. White
 
 G. Herbert 
 George Herbert (1593-1633) 
 
 Eafter 
 
 1HAD prepared many a flowre 
 To straw Thy way and vicSohe ; 
 But Thou wast up before myne houre, 
 Bringinge Thy sweets along with Thee. 
 
 The sunn arising in the East, 
 
 Though hee bring light and th' other scnts. 
 
 Can not make up so braue a feast. 
 
 As Thy discouerie presents. 
 
 Yet though my flours be lost, they say 
 A hart can never come too late : 
 Teach it to sing Thy praise this day. 
 And then this day my life shall date. 
 
 Sinne 
 
 LORD, with what care hast Thou begirt us round I 
 Parents first season us : then schoolmasters 
 Deliver us to laws : they send us, bound 
 To rules of reason, holy messengers, 
 
 45
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 Pulpits and Sundayes, sorrow dogging sinne, 
 Afflidions sorted, anguish of all sizes. 
 Fine nets and stratagems to catch us in. 
 
 Bibles laid open, millions of surprises ; 
 
 Blessings beforehand, tyes of gratefulnesse. 
 The sound of glorie ringing in our eares. 
 Without, our shame; within, our consciences; 
 
 Angels and grace, eternall hopes and fears. 
 
 Yet all these fences and their whole aray 
 One cunning bosome-sinne blows quite away. 
 
 Jordan 
 
 WHO says that fictions onely and false hair 
 Become a verse ? Is there in truth no beautic ? 
 Is all good strudure in a winding-stair ? 
 May no lines passe, except they do their dutie 
 Not to a true, but painted chair ? 
 
 Is it not verse, except enchanted groves 
 And sudden arbours shadow coarse-spunne lines ? 
 Must purling streams refresh a lover's loves ? 
 Must all be vail'd while he that reades divines. 
 Catching the sense at two removes ? 
 46
 
 George Herbert 
 
 Shepherds are honest people. let them sing : 
 Riddle who list, for me, and pull for prime. 
 I envie no man's nightingale or spring ; 
 Nor let them punish me with loss of rhyme. 
 Who plainly say. My God, my King. 
 
 Church Mufick 
 
 SWEETEST of sweets, I thank you: when dis- 
 pleasure 
 Did through my bodie wound my minde. 
 You took me thence, and in your house of pleasure 
 A daintie lodging me assign'd. 
 
 Now I in you without a bodie move. 
 
 Rising and falling with your wings ; 
 We both together sweetly live and love. 
 
 Yet say sometimes, "Cod help poore kings I" 
 
 Comfort, I 'le die : for if you poste from me. 
 
 Sure I shall do so. and much more : 
 But if I travell in your companic. 
 
 You know the way to heaven's doore. 
 
 47
 
 The Kings* Lyrics 
 The Quidditie 
 
 MY Cod, a verse is not a cfown. 
 No point of honour, or gay suit. 
 No hawk, or banquet, or renown. 
 Nor a good sword, nor yet a lute. 
 
 It cannot vault, or dance, or play. 
 It never was in France or Spain, 
 Nor can it entertain the day 
 With a great stable or demain. 
 
 It is no office, art, or news. 
 
 Nor the Exchange, or busie hall : 
 
 But it is that which, while I use. 
 
 I am with Thee: and "MOST TAKE ALL. 
 
 Avarice 
 
 MONEY, thou bane of blisse and source of wo. 
 Whence com'st thou, that thou art so fresh 
 and fine ? 
 I know thy parentage is base and low, — 
 Man found thee poore and dirtie in a mine. 
 48
 
 George Herbert 
 
 Sufely thou didst so little contribute 
 
 To this great kingdome which thou now hast got. 
 
 That he was fain, when thou wert destitute. 
 To digge thee out of thy dark cave and grot. 
 
 Then forcing thee, by fire he made thee bright : 
 Nay, thou hast got the face of man : for we 
 Have with our stamp and seal transferred our right ; 
 
 Thou art the man. and man but drosse to thee. 
 
 Man calleth thee his wealth, who made thee rich ; 
 And while he digs out thee, falls in the ditch. 
 
 The World 
 
 LOVE built a stately house, where Fortune came : 
 And spinning phansies, she was heard to say 
 That her fine cobwebs did support the frame. 
 Whereas they were supported by the same ; 
 But Wisdome quickly swept them all away. 
 
 Then Pleasure came. who. liking not the fashion. 
 
 Began to make balcones. terraces. 
 
 Till she had weaken'd all by alteration : 
 
 But rev'rend laws, and many a proclamation. 
 
 Reformed all at length with menaces. 
 
 49
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 Then entef'd Sinne, and with that sycamore 
 
 Whose leaves first sheltred man from drought and dew. 
 
 Working and winding slily evermore. 
 
 The inward walls and sommers * cleft and tore ; » Mafn 
 
 But Grace shor'd these, and cut that as it grew, beams. 
 
 Then Sinne comfein'd with Death in a firm Band 
 To rase the building to the very floore : 
 Which they effeded. none could them withstand ; 
 But Love took Grace and Glorie hy the hand» 
 And built a braver palace then before. 
 
 The Ouip 
 
 THE merrie World did on a day 
 With his train-bands and mates agree 
 To meet together where I lay. 
 And all in sport to geere at me. 
 
 First Beautie crept into a rose. 
 Which when I pluckt not. "Sir." said she, 
 "Tell me, I pray, whose hands are those?" 
 But Thou shalt answer. Lord, for me. 
 
 50
 
 George Herbert 
 
 Then Money came, and chinking still, 
 -'What tune is this, poofe man?" said he; 
 "I heard in Musick you had skill:" 
 But Thou shalt answer. Lord, for me. 
 
 Then came brave Clorie puffing by 
 In silks that whistled, who but he ! 
 He scarce allowed me half an eic : 
 But Thou shalt answer. Lord, for me. 
 
 Then came quick Wit and Conversation 
 And he would needs a comfort be. 
 And, to be short, make an oration : 
 But Thou shalt answer. Lord, for me. 
 
 Yet when the houre of Thy designe 
 To answer these fine things shall come. 
 Speak not at large, say, I am Thine, 
 And then they have their answer home. 
 
 L 
 
 Love 
 
 OVE bade me welcome ; yet my soul drew back. 
 
 Guilty of dust and sin. 
 But quick-ey'd Love, observing me grow slack 
 
 51
 
 The Kings* Lyrics 
 
 From my first entrance in. 
 Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning 
 If I lack'd any thing. 
 
 "A guest," I answered, "worthy to be here:" 
 
 Love said, "You shall be he." 
 " I, the unkind, ungrateful ? Ah, my dear. 
 
 I cannot look on Thee." 
 Love took my hand, and smiling did reply. 
 
 "Who made the eyes but I ?" 
 
 " Truth, Lord : but I have marr'd them ; let my shame 
 
 Co where it doth deserve." 
 "And know you not," says Love, "Who bore the 
 blame?" 
 
 "My dear, then I will serve." 
 "You must sit down." says Love, "and taste My meat." 
 
 So I did sit and eat. 
 
 Thomas Carew (1598-1638) 
 Ingrateful Beauty Threatened 
 
 K 
 
 NOW. CeUa. since thou art so proud. 
 
 'Twas I that gave thee thy renown. 
 Thou had'st in the forgotten crowd 
 
 52
 
 Thomas Carew 
 After the painting by Sir Anthony Van Dyck
 
 Thomas Carew 
 
 Of common Beauties lived unknown. 
 Had not my verse extoll'd thy name. 
 And with it ympt* the wings of Fame. 
 
 That killing power is none of thine: 
 I gave it to thy voice and eyes; 
 
 Thy sweets, thy graces, all are mine; 
 Thou art my Star, shin'st in my skies: 
 
 Then dart not from thy borrow'd sphere 
 
 Lightning on him that fix'd thee there. 
 
 Tempt me with such affrights no more. 
 
 Lest what I made I uncreate : 
 Let fools thy mystic forms adore, 
 
 I know thee in thy Mortal state. 
 Wise poets that wrapt Truth in tales. 
 Knew her themselves through all her veils. 
 
 H 
 
 Difdain I^eiurned 
 
 'E that loves a rosy cheek. 
 Or a coral lip admires. 
 Or, from star-like eyes, doth seek 
 Fuel to maintain his fires; 
 As old Time makes these decay. 
 So his flames must waste away. 
 
 • This phrase is borrowed from Falconry. To ymp is to add 
 a new piece to a broken feather in tail or wing. 
 53
 
 Thomas Carew 
 After the painting by Sir Anthony Van Dyck
 
 Thomas Carew 
 
 Of common Beauties lived unknown. 
 Had not my verse extoli'd thy name. 
 And with it ympt* the wings of Fame. 
 
 That killing power is none of thine: 
 I gave it to thy voice and eyes; 
 
 Thy sweets, thy graces, all are mine; 
 Thou art my Star, shin'st in my skies: 
 
 Then dart not from thy borrow'd sphere 
 
 Lightning on him that fix'd thee there. 
 
 Tempt me with such affrights no more. 
 
 Lest what I made I uncreate ; 
 Let fools thy mystic forms adore, 
 
 I know thee in thy Mortal state. 
 Wise poets that wrapt Truth in tales. 
 Knew her themselves through all her veils. 
 
 H 
 
 Difdain Returned 
 
 E that loves a rosy cheek. 
 Or a coral lip admires. 
 Or. from star-like eyes, doth seek 
 Fuel to maintain his fires; 
 As old Time makes these decay. 
 So his flames must waste away. 
 
 • This phrase is borrowed from Falconry. To ymp is to add 
 a new piece to a broken feather in tail or wing, 
 53
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 But a smooth and steadfast mind/ 
 Gentle thoughts and calm desires. 
 
 Hearts with equal love combined. 
 Kindle never-dying fires. 
 
 Where these are not, I despise 
 
 Lovely cheeks, or lips, or eyes. 
 
 No tears, Celia. now shall win 
 My resolved heart to return ; 
 
 I have search'd thy soul within. 
 
 And find nought but pride and scorn. 
 
 I have learn'd thy arts, and now 
 
 Can disdain as much as thou. 
 
 Some Power in my revenge convey 
 That Love to hef I cast away. 
 
 On Celia Singing to her Lute^ 
 in Arundel Garden 
 
 HARK, how my Qelm. with the choice 
 Music of her hand and voice. 
 Stills the loud wind, and makes the wild 
 Enraged boar and panther mild. 
 Mark how those statues like men move, 
 
 54
 
 Thomas Carew 
 
 While men with wonder statues prove. 
 The stiff rock bends to worship her : 
 The Idol turns idolater. 
 
 Now, see how all the new inspired 
 Images with love are fired ! 
 Hark how the tender marble groans. 
 And all the late transformed stones 
 Court the fair Nymph, with many a tear. 
 Which she — more stony than they wctc- 
 Beholds with unrelenting mind ; 
 When they, amazed to see combined 
 Such matchless beauty with disdain. 
 Are all turn'd into stone again. 
 
 A/k Me no more where Jove 
 Be/tows 
 
 ASK me no more, where Joce bestows. 
 When June is past, the fading rose ? 
 For in your Beauty's orient deep 
 These flowers, as in their causes, sleep. 
 
 Ask me no more, whither do stray 
 The golden atoms of the day ? 
 For in pure love heaven did prepare 
 Those powders to enrich your hair. 
 55
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 Ask me no more, whither doth haste 
 The Nightingale, when May is past ? 
 For in your sweet dividing throat 
 She winters and keeps warm her note. 
 
 Ask me no more, where those stars 'light. 
 That downwards fall in dead of night ? 
 For in your eyes they sit, and there 
 Fixed become, as in their sphere. 
 
 Ask me no more, if east or west 
 The Phoenix builds her spicy nest ? 
 For unto you at last she flies. 
 And in your fragrant bosom dies. 
 
 The Hue and Cry 
 
 IN Love's name you are charged hereby 
 To make a speedy "Hue and Cry" 
 After a face, which t'other day. 
 Stole my wand'ring heart away. 
 To dired you, these, in brief. 
 Are ready marks to know the Thief. 
 
 Her hair a net of beams would prove 
 Strong enough to captive /ooe. 
 In his Eagle's shape : her brow 
 56
 
 Thomas Carew 
 
 Is a comely field of snow ; 
 
 Her eye so rich, so pure a grey. 
 
 Every beam creates a day : 
 
 And, if she but sleep (not when 
 The sun sets), 'tis Night again. 
 
 In her cheeks are to be seen 
 
 Of flowers both the King and Queen, 
 
 Thither by the Graces led. 
 
 And freshly laid in nuptial bed ; 
 
 On whose lips. like-Nymphs do wait. 
 
 Who deplore their virgin state : 
 Oft they blush, and blush for this. 
 That they one another kiss. 
 
 But observe, besides the rest. 
 You shall know this Felon best 
 By her tongue ; for if your ear 
 Once a heavenly music hear. 
 Such as neither gods nor men — 
 But from that voice — shall hear again. 
 That, that is she. O ! straight surprise. 
 And bring her unto Love's Assize. 
 If you let her go. she may 
 Ante-date the Latter Day. 
 
 Fate and Philosophy controul. 
 And leave the world without a soul. 
 57
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 The Tooth-ache Cured by a 
 Kifs 
 
 FATE 'S now grown merciful to men. 
 Turning disease to bliss ; 
 For had not kind rheum vext me, then, 
 
 I might not Ceha kiss. 
 Physicians, you are now my scorn. 
 
 For I have found a way 
 To cure diseases — when forlorn 
 
 By your dull art — which may 
 Patch up a body for a time : 
 
 But can restore to health 
 No more than 'chymists can sublime 
 
 True Gold, the Indies' wealth. 
 That Angel sure, that used to move 
 
 The Pool* men so admired, *Bethesda. 
 
 Hath to her lip, the seat of Love, 
 
 As to his heaven, retired. 
 
 58
 
 Thomas Carew 
 On his Miftrefs Going to Sea 
 
 FAREWELL, fair Saint ! may not the sea and wind 
 Swell like the hearts and eyes you leave behind ; 
 But calm and gentle, as the looks you bear. 
 Smile in your face, and whisper in your ear. 
 
 Let no bold billow offer to arise. 
 That it may nearer gaze upon your eyes : 
 Lest wind and wave, enamour'd of your form. 
 Should throng and crowd themselves into a storm. 
 
 But if it be your fate, vast Seas ! to love. 
 Of my becalmed breast learn how to move: 
 Move then, but in a gentle Lover's pace : 
 No wrinkle, nor no furrow, in your face. 
 
 And you. fierce Winds, see that you tell your tale 
 In such a breath as may but fill her Sail : 
 So. whilst you court her. each your several way. 
 You may her safely to her Port convey. 
 
 And loose her, by the noblest way of Wooing : 
 Whilst both contribute to your own undoing. 
 
 59
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 Eternitij's Song 
 
 BE fixed, you rapid Orbs, that bear 
 The changing seasons of the year 
 On your swift wings, and see the old 
 Decrepit Sphere grown dark and cold : 
 Nor did ]otz quench her fires : these bright 
 Flames have eclipsed her sullen light : 
 This Royal Pair, for whom Fate will 
 Make Motion cease, and Time stand still : 
 Since Good is here so perfeclt, as no Worth 
 Is left for After-Ages to bring forth. 
 
 from Ccclura Britannicum, A Masque. 
 
 Sir I(ichard Fanfhawe (1607-1666) 
 Of Beauty 
 
 LET us use it while we may 
 Snatch those joys that haste away I 
 Earth her winter coat may cast. 
 And renew her beauty past : 
 But. our winter come, in vain 
 We solicit Spring again ; 
 And when our furrows snow shall cover 
 Love may return, but never lover. 
 60
 
 Sir John Suckling 
 
 From the engraving by George Vertue 
 
 after the painting by Sir Anthony Van Dyck
 
 Sir J. Suckling 
 
 Sir John Suckling (1609-1641) 
 
 Ballad upon a Wedding 
 
 (Written upon the occasion of the marriage of 
 Roger Boyle, ist Earl of Orrery with Lady Mar- 
 garet Howard, daughter of Theophilus, Earl of 
 Suffolk.) 
 
 1TELL thee, Dick, where I have been. 
 Where I the rarest things have seen ; 
 O. things without compare ! 
 Such sights again cannot be found 
 In any place on English ground. 
 Be it at wake or fair. 
 
 At Charing Cross, hard by the way. 
 Where we (thou know'st) do sell our hay. 
 
 There is a house with stairs; 
 And there did I see coming down 
 Such folks as are not in our town, 
 ^ Forty, at least, in pairs. 
 
 Amongst the rest, one pest'lent fine 
 (His beard no bigger though than Thine) 
 Walked on before the rest : 
 61
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 Our landlord looks like nothing to him : 
 The King (God bless him) 'twould undo him. 
 Should he go still so drest. 
 
 At Coufse-a-Park, without all doubt. 
 He should have first been taken out 
 
 By all the maids i' th' town : 
 Though lusty Roger there had been. 
 Or little George upon the Green, 
 
 Or Vincent of the Crown. 
 
 But, wot you what? the youth was going 
 To make an end of all his wooing ; 
 
 The parson for him stay'd : 
 Yet by his leave (for all his haste) 
 He did not so much wish all past 
 
 (Perchance) as did the maid. 
 
 The maid (and thereby hangs a tale. 
 For such a maid not Whitsun-ale 
 
 Could ever yet produce) 
 No grape, that 's kindly ripe, could be 
 So round, so plump, so soft as she. 
 
 Nor half so full of juice. 
 
 Her finger was so small, the ring 
 Would not stay on, which they did bring. 
 It was too wide a peck : 
 62
 
 Sir John Suckling 
 
 And to say truth (for out it must) 
 
 It looked like the great collar (just) 
 
 About our young colt's neck. 
 
 Her feet beneath her petticoat. 
 Like little mice, stole in and out. 
 
 As if they fear'd the light : 
 But O she dances such a way ! 
 No sun upon an Easter day 
 
 Is half so fine a sight. 
 
 He would have kissed her once or twice 
 But she would not, she was so nice. 
 
 She would not do 't in sight. 
 And then she looked as who should say : 
 I will do what I list to-day. 
 
 And you shall do't at night. 
 
 Her cheeks so rare a white was on. 
 No daisy makes comparison 
 
 (Who sees them is undone). 
 For streaks of red were mingled there. 
 Such as are on a Cath'rine pear 
 
 (The side that 's next the sun). 
 
 Her lips were red, and one was thin. 
 Compared to that was next her chin 
 (Some bee had stung it newly) ; 
 63
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 But. Dick, her eyes so guard her face ; 
 I durst no more upon them gaze 
 Than on the sun in July. 
 
 Her mouth so small, when she does speak. 
 Thou 'dst swear her teeth her words did break. 
 
 That they might passage get ; 
 But she so handled still the matter. 
 They came as good as ours, or better. 
 
 And are not spent a whit. 
 
 *^ ^ ^ o^ .^ o^ a^, 
 ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 Passion o' me. how I run on ! 
 
 There's that that would be thought upon 
 
 (I trow) besides the bride ; 
 The business of the kitchen's great. 
 For it is fit that man should cat : 
 
 Nor was it there denied : 
 
 Just in the nick the cook knocked thrice. 
 And all the waiters in a trice 
 
 His summons did obey; 
 Each serving-man. with dish in hand. 
 Marched boldly up. like our trained band. 
 
 Presented, and away. 
 64
 
 Sir John Suckling 
 
 When all the meat was on the tabic. 
 What man of knife or teeth was able 
 
 To stay to be intreated ? 
 And this the very reason was. 
 Before the parson could say grace. 
 
 The company was seated. 
 
 Now hats fly off. and youths carouse ; 
 Healths first go round, and then the house. 
 
 The bride's came thick and thick : 
 And when 'twas nam'd another's health. 
 Perhaps he made it hers by stealth : 
 
 And who could help it. Dick ? 
 
 On the sudden up they rise and dance ; 
 Then sit again and sigh, and glance : 
 
 Then dance again and kiss : 
 Thus several ways the time did pass. 
 Whilst ev'ry woman wished her place. 
 
 And every man wished his. 
 
 By this time all were stol'n aside 
 
 To counsel and undress the bride : 
 
 But that he must not know : 
 
 65
 
 The Kings* Lyrics 
 
 But yet 'twas thought he guess'd her mind. 
 And did not mean to stay behmd 
 Above an hour or so. 
 
 *^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 "W IT* 'ff' "T^ -l^ ^n^ ■^ 
 
 Note. " TA/s ballad may safely be pronounced his Opus 
 Magnum; indeed, for grace and simplicity it stands un- 
 rivalled in the whole compass of ancient and modern 
 poetry." — William Wordsworth. 
 
 A Supplement of an Imperfedl copy of Verses 
 of Mr. William Shakespeare's 
 
 ONE of her hands one of her cheeks lay under. 
 Cozening the pillow of a lawful kiss. 
 Which therefore swelled, and seemed to part 
 asunder. 
 As angry to be robbed of such a bliss ! 
 The one looked pale and for revenge did long. 
 While t' other blushed, 'cause it had done the wrong. 
 
 Out of the bed the other fair hand was 
 On a green satin quilt, whose perfedt white 
 Looked like a daisy in a field of grass."* 
 And showed like unmelt snow unto the sight; 
 There lay this pretty perdue, safe to keep 
 The rest o' th' body that lay fast asleep. 
 
 * Thus far Shakespeare. 
 
 66
 
 Sir John Suckling 
 
 Her eyes (and therefore it was night), close laid. 
 
 Strove to imprison beauty till the morn : 
 
 But yet the doors were of such fine stuff made. 
 
 That it broke through, and showed itself in scorn. 
 
 Throwing a kind of light about the place ; 
 
 Which turned to smiles still, as 't came near her face. 
 
 Her beams, which some dull men called hair, divided. 
 Part with her cheeks, part with her lips did sport. 
 But these, as rude, her breath put by still ; some 
 Wiselier downward sought, but falling short. 
 Curled back in rings, and seemed to turn again 
 To bite the part unkindly held them m. 
 
 DOST see how unregarded now 
 That piece of beauty passes ? 
 There was a time when I did vow 
 To that alone : 
 But mark the fate of faces: 
 The red and white works now no more on me. 
 Than if it could not charm, or I not see. 
 
 And yet the face continues good. 
 
 And still I have desires. 
 And still the self -same flesh and blood. 
 As apt to melt. 
 
 67
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 And suffer from those fires : 
 O, some kind power unriddle where it lies ; 
 Whether my heart be faulty, or her eyes ? 
 
 She every day her man doth kill. 
 
 And I as often die : 
 Neither her power then nor my will 
 
 Can questioned be : 
 What is the mystery ? 
 Sure, beauty's empires, like to greater states. 
 Have certain periods set, and hidden fates. 
 
 The Metamorphofis 
 
 THE little boy, to show his might and power, 
 Turn'd lo to a cow. Narcissus to a flower ; 
 Transformed Apollo to a homely swain. 
 And Jove himself into a golden rain. 
 These shapes were tolerable, but by the Mass 
 He 's metamorphosed me into an Ass ! 
 
 68
 
 Sir John Suckling 
 The Falfe One 
 
 HAST thou seen the down in the air 
 When wanton blasts have tossed it ? 
 Or the ship on the sea. 
 When ruder winds have crossed it ? 
 Hast thou marked the crocodile's weeping. 
 
 Or the fox's sleeping ? 
 Or hast viewed the peacock in his pride. 
 
 Or the dove by his bride. 
 When he courts for his lechery ? 
 O. so fickle, O, so vain, O, so false, so false is she ! 
 
 fTom The Sad One. 
 
 A Soldier 
 
 1AM a man of war and might. 
 And know thus much, that I can fight. 
 Whether I am i' th' wrong or right. 
 Devoutly. 
 No woman under heaven I fear. 
 New oaths I can exadly swear. 
 And forty healths my brain will bear 
 Most stoutly. 
 69
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 I cannot speak, but I can do 
 As much as any of our crew ; 
 And if you doubt it. some of you 
 
 May prove me. 
 I dare be bold thus much to say. 
 If that my bullets do but play. 
 You would be hurt so night and day. 
 
 Yet love me. 
 
 Or/ames' Song 
 
 WHY so pale and wan, fond lover? 
 Prithee, why so pale ? 
 Will, when looking well can't move her. 
 Looking ill prevail ? 
 Prithee, why so pale? 
 
 Why so mute and dumb, young sinner ? 
 
 Prithee, why so mute ? 
 Will, when speaking well can't win her. 
 
 Saying nothing do 't ? 
 
 Prithee, why so mute ? 
 
 70
 
 Sir John Suckling 
 
 Quit, quit, for shame, this will not move ; 
 
 This cannot take her. 
 If of herself she will not love. 
 
 Nothing can make her : 
 
 The devil take her ! 
 
 The ConJIant Lover 
 
 OUT upon it! I have loved 
 Three whole days together : 
 And am like to love three more. 
 If it prove fine weather. 
 
 Time shall moult away his wings. 
 Ere he shall discover 
 In the whole wide world again 
 Such a constant lover. 
 
 But the spite on *t is, no praise 
 Is due at all to me : 
 Love with me had made no stays. 
 Had It any been but she. 
 
 Had It any been but she. 
 And that very face. 
 There had been at least, ere this, 
 A dozen in her place I 
 71
 
 The Kings* Lyrics 
 
 I PRITHEE send me back my heart. 
 Since I cannot have thine : 
 For if from yours you will not part. 
 Why then shouldst thou have mine ? 
 
 Yet now I think on *t. let it lie. 
 To find it, were in vain. 
 For th' hast a thief in either eye 
 Would steal it back again. 
 
 Why should two hearts in one breast lie. 
 And yet not lodge together ? 
 
 love ! where is thy sympathy. 
 If thus our breasts you sever ? 
 
 But love is such a mystery, 
 
 1 cannot find it out: 
 
 For when I think I 'm best resolv'd, 
 I then am most in doubt. 
 
 Then farewell care, and farewell woe, 
 I will no longer pine : 
 For I '11 believe 1 have her heart. 
 As much as she has mine. 
 
 7^
 
 Sir John Suckling 
 Love and Debt 
 
 THERE 'S one request I make to Him, 
 Who sits the clouds above : 
 That I were fairly out of debt. 
 As I am out of love. 
 
 Then for to dance, to drink, to sing 
 I should be very willing ; 
 I should not owe one lass a kiss. 
 Nor any rogue a shilling. 
 
 'Tis only being in love or debt. 
 That robs us of our rest. 
 And he that is quite out of both. 
 Of all the world is blest. 
 
 He sees the golden age, wherein 
 All things were free and common; 
 He eats, he drinks, he takes his rest- 
 And fears nor man nor woman. 
 
 73
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 William Cartwright (1611-1643) 
 
 Lefbia on her Sparrow 
 
 TELL me not of joy ! there 's none. 
 Now my little sparrow's gone : 
 He, just as you. 
 Would sigh and woo. 
 He would chirp and flatter me ; 
 He would hang the wing a while. 
 Till at length he saw me smile. 
 Lord I how sullen he would be ! 
 
 He would catch a crumb, and then 
 Sporting let it go again : 
 
 He from my lip 
 
 "Would moisture sip. 
 He would from my trencher feed ; 
 
 Then would hop. and then would run. 
 
 And cry Phillip when he'd done; 
 Oh ! whose heart can choose but bleed ? 
 
 Oh ! how eager would he fight. 
 And ne'er hurt though he did bite. 
 No morn did pass, 
 74
 
 William Cartwright 
 
 But on my glass 
 
 He would sit, and mark, and do 
 What I did ; now ruffle all 
 His feathers o'er, now let them fall. 
 
 And then straightway sleek them too. 
 
 Whence will Cupid get his darts 
 Feather'd now, to pierce our hearts ? 
 
 A wound he may. 
 
 Not love, convey. 
 Now this faithful bird is gone. 
 
 Oh ! let mournful turtles join 
 
 With loving redbreasts, and combine 
 To sing dirges o'er his stone. 
 
 To Chloe 
 
 Who wished herself young enough for me. 
 
 CHLOE, why wish you that your years 
 Would backwards run. till they meet mine ? 
 That perfed likeness, which endears 
 Things unto things, might us combine. 
 Our ages so in date agree. 
 That twins do differ more than we. 
 
 75
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 There are two births, the one when light 
 First strikes the new awakened sense ; 
 
 The other when two souls unite : 
 
 And we must count our life from thence : 
 
 When you lov'd me. and I lov'd you. 
 
 Then both of us were born anew. 
 
 Love then to us did new souls give. 
 
 And m those souls did plant new pow'rs : 
 
 Since when another life we live. 
 The breath is his, not ours ; 
 
 Love makes those young whom age doth chill. 
 
 And whom he finds young keeps young still. 
 
 Love, like that angel that shall call 
 Our bodies from the silent grave. 
 
 Unto one age doth raise us all : 
 
 None too much, none ioo little have : 
 
 Nay. that the difference may be none. 
 
 He makes two not alike, but one. 
 
 And now since you and I are such. 
 
 Tell me what 's yours, and what is mine ? 
 
 Our eyes, our ears, our taste, smell, touch. 
 Do, like our souls, in one combine ; 
 
 So, by this, I as well may be 
 
 Too old for you, as you for me. 
 76
 
 Francis Cluarles 
 From the engraving by I. Wright
 
 F. Quarles 
 
 Francis O^ciTles (1592-1664) 
 Song of Anarchuf 
 
 KNOW then, my brethren, heaven is clear. 
 And all the clouds are gone; 
 The righteous now shall flourish, and 
 Good days are coming on : 
 Come then, my brethren, and be glad. 
 And eke rejoice with me ; 
 Lawn sleeves and rochets shall go down. 
 And hey ! then up go we ! 
 
 We '11 break the windows which the whofe 
 
 Of Babylon hath painted. 
 
 And when the popish saints are down. 
 
 Then Barrow shall be sainted. 
 
 There 's neither cross nor crucifix 
 
 Shall stand for men to see ; 
 
 Rome's trash and trumperies shall go down. 
 
 And hey ! then op go we I 
 
 'jv 'n^ '7r ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ 
 
 We'll down with all the 'VarsHies. 
 Where learning is profess'd. 
 Because they pradice and maintain 
 77
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 The language of the beast. 
 
 We '11 drive the doctors out of doors. 
 
 And arts, -what e'er they be; 
 
 We 'II cry both arts and learning down. 
 
 And hey ! then up go we ! 
 
 #^ ^ 4fe^ ^ ^ ^ jUf. 
 
 ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ w^ ^ 
 
 If once that Anti-christian crew 
 
 Be crush'd and overthrown. 
 
 We 'II teach the nobles how to crouch. 
 
 And keep the gentry down. 
 
 Good manners have an ill report. 
 
 And turn to pride we see ; 
 
 We 'II therefore cry good manners down. 
 
 And hey ! then up go we I 
 
 The name of lord shall be abhorr'd. 
 
 For every man's a brother ; 
 
 No reason why, in church, of state. 
 
 One man should rule another. 
 
 But when the change of government 
 
 Shall set our fingers free. 
 
 We 'II make the wanton sisters stoop. 
 
 And hey ! then up go we I 
 
 Our cobblers shall translate their souls 
 From caves obscure and shady : 
 
 We'll make Tom T as good as my lofd, 
 
 78
 
 Francis Quarles 
 
 And Joan as good as my lady. 
 
 We 'II crush and fling the marriage ring 
 
 Into the Roman see; 
 
 We 'II ask no bands, but e'en clap hands. 
 
 And hey ! then op go we ! 
 
 From Shepherd's Oracles. 
 
 WHAT, Cupid, are thy shafts already made ? 
 And seeking honey to set up thy trade. 
 True emblem of thy sweets ! thy bees do bring 
 Honey in their mouths, but in their tails a sting. 
 
 Epigram No. 3, Book i. 
 
 Non omne quod hie micataurum eft 
 
 FALSE world, thou ly'st ; thou canst not lend 
 The least delight : 
 Thy favours cannot gam a friend. 
 They are so slight : 
 Thy morning pleasures make an end 
 
 To please at night : 
 Poor are the wants that thou supply'st ; 
 And yet thou vaunt'st, and yet thou vy'st 
 With Heaven ; fond earth, thou boast'st. false world, 
 thou ly'st. 
 
 79
 
 The Kings* Lyrics 
 
 Thy babbling tongue tells golden tales 
 
 Of endless treasure : 
 Thy bounty offers easy sales 
 
 Of lasting pleasure ; 
 Thou ask'st the conscience what she aib. 
 
 And swear'st to ease her : 
 There 's none can want where thou supply'st. 
 There 's none can give where thou deny'st, 
 Alas ! fond world, thou boast *st ; false world, thou ly'st. 
 
 What well advised ear regards 
 
 What Earth can say ? 
 Thy words are gold, but thy rewards 
 
 Are painted clay : 
 Thy cunning can but pack the cards. 
 
 Thou canst not play : 
 Thy game at weakest still thou vy'st; 
 If seen, and then revy'd. deny'st : 
 Thou art not what thou seem'st ; false world, thou ly'st. 
 
 Thy tinsel bosom seems a mint 
 
 Of new-coin'd treasure : 
 A paradise that has no stint. 
 
 No change, no measure : 
 A painted cask, but nothing in 't 
 
 Nor wealth nor pleasure : 
 80
 
 Francis Quarks 
 
 Vain earth f that falsely thus comply 'st 
 With man ; vain man, that thou rely'st 
 On earth ; vain man, thou doat'st ; vain earth, thou ly'st. 
 
 What mean dull souls, in this high measure 
 
 To haberdash 
 In earth's base wares, whose greatest treasure 
 
 Is dross and trash ? 
 The height of whose enchanting pleasure 
 
 Is but a flash ? 
 Are these the goods that thou supply 'st' 
 Us mortals with ? Are these the high'st ? 
 Can these bring cordial peace ? False world, thou ly'st. 
 From Emblems, Divine and Moral. 
 
 MY heart ! but wherefore do I call thee so ? 
 I have renounc'd my mt'rest long ago : 
 When thou wert false and fleshly, I was thine ; 
 Mine wert thou never, till thou wert not mine. 
 
 Epigram No. 15, Book. 3. 
 
 81
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 LOOK not, my watch, being once repair'd, to stand 
 Expecting motion from thy Maker's hand. 
 He *s -wound thee up, and deans'd thy clogs with 
 blood : 
 If now thy wheels stand still, thou art not good. 
 
 Epigram No. 8. Book i(. 
 
 Sic decipit orbis 
 
 BELIEVE her not. her glass diffuses 
 False portraitures: thou canst espy 
 No true reflection : she abuses 
 Her misinform'd beholder's eye : 
 Her crystal's falsely steel'd : it scatters 
 Deceitful beams : believe her not, she flatters. 
 
 This flaring mirror represents 
 
 No right proportion, view or feature : 
 
 Her very looks are compliments : 
 
 They make thee fairer, goodlier, greater: 
 
 The skilful gloss of her rcfledion 
 
 But paints the context of thy coarse complexion. 
 
 8^
 
 Francis Quarles 
 
 Were thy dimension but a stride. 
 Nay, weft thou statur'd but a span. 
 Such as the long-bill 'd troops defied, 
 A very fragment of a man ! 
 She'll make thee Mimas, which you will. 
 The Jove-slain tyrant, or th' Ionic hill. 
 
 Had surfeits, or th' ungracious star, 
 
 Conspir'd to make one commonplace 
 
 Of all deformities that are 
 
 Within the volume of thy face. 
 
 She 'd lend thee favour should outmove 
 
 The Troy-bane Helen, or the Queen of Love. 
 
 Were thy consum'd estate as poor 
 
 As Laz'rus or afflided Job's: 
 
 She'll change thy wants to seeming stofe. 
 
 And turn thy rags to purple robes ; 
 
 She 'II make thy hide-bound flank appear 
 
 As plump as theirs that feast it all the year. 
 
 Look off, let not thy optics be 
 Abus'd : thou seest not what thou should'st : 
 Thyself 's the objecit thou should'st see. 
 But 'tis the shadow thou behold'st: 
 And shadows thrive the more in stature. 
 The n-iarer we approach the light of nature. 
 
 83
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 Where Heav'n's bright beams look more dire<Jt. 
 
 The shadow shrinks as they grow stronger. 
 
 But when they glance their fair aspect. 
 
 The boM-fac'd shade grows larger. longer : 
 
 And when their lamp begins to fall. 
 
 Th* increasing shadows lengthen most of bU. 
 
 The soul that seeks the noon of grace. 
 Shrinks in, but swells if grace retreat. 
 As Heav'n lifts up, or veils his face, 
 Ouf self-esteems grow less or great. 
 The least is greatest, and who shall 
 Appear the greatest, are the least of all. 
 
 From Emblems, Divine and Moral. 
 
 WHAT need that house be daub'd with flesh and 
 blood? 
 Hung round with silks and gold ? repair'd with 
 food? 
 Cost idly spent ! that cost doth but prolong 
 Thy thraldom. Fool, thou mak'st thy jail too strong. 
 
 Epigram No. 8, Book 5. 
 
 84
 
 W. Habington 
 
 William Habington (1605-1654) 
 
 To Caftara'' 
 
 Softly singing to herself 
 
 SING forth, sweet Cheruhin (for we have choice 
 Of reasons in thy beauty, and thy voice. 
 To name thee so, and scarce appear prophanc) 
 Sing forth, that while the orbs celestial straine 
 To echo thy sweet note, our human cars 
 May then receive the music of the spheres. 
 But yet take heed, lest if the swans of Thames, 
 That add harmonious pleasure to the streams, 
 O' th' sudden hear thy well-divided breath. 
 Should listen, and in silence welcome death : 
 And ravisht nightingales, striving too high 
 To reach thee, in the emulation die. 
 
 And thus there will be left no bird to sing 
 Farewell to th' waters, welcome to the spring. 
 
 * Luda Habington. his wife, daughter of William Lord 
 Powis. 
 
 85
 
 The Kings* Lyrics 
 Defcription of Caftara 
 
 LIKE the violet, which alone 
 Prospers in some happy shade ; 
 My Castara lives unknown. 
 To no looser eye betray'd. 
 For she 's to her self untrue. 
 Who delights i' th' public view. 
 
 Such is her beauty, as no arts 
 Have enricht with borrowed grace. 
 Her high birth no pride imparts. 
 For she blushes in her place. 
 
 Folly boasts a glorious blood. 
 
 She IS noblest being good. 
 
 Cautious, she knew never yet 
 
 What a wanton courtship meant ; 
 
 Not speaks loud to boast her wit. 
 
 In her silence eloquent. 
 
 Of herself survey she takes. 
 
 But 'tween men no difference makci. 
 
 She obeys with speedy will 
 Her grave parents' wise commands. 
 And so innocent, that ill, 
 86
 
 William Habington 
 
 She nof nAs, not understands. 
 Women's feet run still astray. 
 If once to ill they know the way. 
 
 She sails by that rock, the Court, 
 Where oft honour splits her mast : 
 And retir'dness thinks the port. 
 Where her fame may anchor cast. 
 Vertue safely cannot sit. 
 Where vice is enthron'd for wit. 
 
 She holds that day's pleasure best. 
 Where sin waits not on delight : 
 Without mask, or ball, or feast. 
 Sweetly spends a winter's night. 
 O'er that darkness whence is thrust 
 Prayer, and sleep oft governs lust. 
 
 She her throne makes reason climb. 
 While wild passions captive lie : 
 And each article of time. 
 Her pure thoughts to Heaven fly : 
 
 All her vows religious be. 
 
 And her love she vows to me. 
 
 87
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 To the Spring 
 
 upon tKe uncertainty of Castara's abode 
 
 lAIR mistress of the Earth, with garlands crown'd. 
 Rise, by a lover's charm ; from the parcht ground. 
 And show thy flowery wealth : that she, where ere 
 Her stars shall guide her, meet thy beauties there. 
 Should she to the cold northern climates go. 
 Force the affrighted lillies there to grow. 
 Thy roses in those gelid fields t' appear ; 
 She absent, I have all their winter here. 
 Or if to th' torrid zone her way she bend. 
 Her the cool breathing of Favonius lend. 
 Thither command the birds to bring their quires : 
 That zone is temp'rate, I have all his fires. 
 
 Attend her, courteous Spring, though we should here 
 Lose by it all the treasures of the year. 
 
 88
 
 T. Nabbes 
 
 Thomas Nabbes (1612? ) 
 
 On a Miftrefs of whofe Affedion 
 He was Doubtful 
 
 WHAT though with figures I should raise 
 Above all height my mistress' praise; 
 Calling her cheek a blushing rose. 
 The fairest June did e'er disclose ; 
 Her forehead, lilies : and her eyes. 
 The luminaries of the skies ; 
 That on her lips ambrosia grows. 
 And from her kisses nedar flows? — 
 Too great hyperboles ! unless 
 She loves me, she is none of these. 
 But, if her heart and her desires 
 Do answer mine with equal fires. 
 These attributes are then too poof, — 
 She is all these, and tea times more. 
 
 89
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 liichard Crafhaw (1612-1648) 
 The Weeper 
 
 HAIL sister Springs. 
 Parents of silver-footed rills I 
 Ever bubbling things ! 
 Thawing crystal ! Snowy hills ! 
 Still spending, never spent : I mean 
 Thy fair eyes, sweet Magdalene. 
 
 Heavens thy fair eyes be ; 
 
 Heavens of ever-falling stars ; 
 
 'Tis seed-time still with thee. 
 
 And stars thou sow'st. whose harvest dares 
 
 Promise the earth to countershine 
 
 Whatever makes Heaven's forehead fine. 
 
 (And 29 other verses.) 
 From Steps to the Temple. 
 
 A Song 
 
 L 
 
 ORD. when the sense of Thy sweet grace 
 Sends up my soul to seek Thy face. 
 Thy blessed eyes breed such desire, 
 90
 
 Richard Crashaw 
 
 I die in Love's delicious fire. 
 
 Love! I am Thy sacrifice. 
 
 Be still triumphant, blessed eyes ; 
 Still shine on me, fair suns, that I 
 Still may behold though still I die. 
 
 Though still I die. I live again. 
 Still longing so to be still slain : 
 So gainful is such loss of breath, 
 
 1 die even in desire of death. 
 Still live in me this loving strife 
 Of living death and dying life : 
 For while thou sweetly slayest me. 
 Dead to myself, I live in Thee. 
 
 From Carmen Deo Nostro. 
 
 The Widow's Mites 
 
 Two mites, two drops, yet all her house and land. 
 Fall from a steady heart, though trembling hand : 
 The other's wanton wealth foams high, and brave ; 
 The other cast away, she only gave. 
 
 From Divine Epigrams. 
 
 9'
 
 Tte Kings* Lyrics 
 
 THOUGH now 'tis neither May nof June, 
 And nightingales are out of tunc. 
 Yet in these leaves, fair One, there lies 
 (Sworn servant to your sweetest eyes) 
 A nightingale, who, may she spread 
 In your white bosom her chaste bed. 
 Spite of all the maiden snow 
 Those pure untrodden paths can show. 
 You straight shall see her wake and rise. 
 Taking fresh life from your fair eyes. 
 And with claspt wings proclaim a spring. 
 Where Love and she shall sit and sing; 
 For lodged so near your sweetest throat 
 What nightingale can lose her note ? 
 Nor let her kindred birds complain 
 Because she breaks the year's old reign ; 
 For let them know she's none of those 
 Hedge-quiristers whose music owes 
 Only such strains as serve to keep 
 Sad shades, and sing dull night asleep. 
 No. she's a priestess of that grove. 
 The holy chapel of chaste love. 
 Your virgin bosom. Then whatc'er 
 Poor laws divide the public year. 
 Whose revolutions wait upon 
 The wild turns of the wanton sun. 
 
 93
 
 In ntmriany fratri/ dejiolcrafifrinii icUni Fran, IfiMhci. 
 
 Richard Lovelace 
 
 From the engraving by Hollar 
 
 after the drawing by Colonel Francis Lovelace
 
 Richard Lovelace 
 
 Be you the Lady of Love's year. 
 Where your eyes shine his suns appear. 
 There all the year is Love's long Spring, 
 
 There all the year 
 Love's nightingales shall sit and sing. 
 
 J^ichard Lovelace (1618-1658) 
 To Lucafta. Going to the Warres 
 
 TELL me not. (sweet,) I am unkinde. 
 That from the nunnerie 
 Of thy chaste breast and quiet minde 
 To warre and armes I flie. 
 
 True: a new Mistress now I chase. 
 
 The first foe in the field. 
 And with a stronger faith embrace 
 
 A sword, a horse, a shield. 
 
 Yet this inconstancy is such. 
 
 As you too shall adore; 
 I could not love thee, dear, so mucli, 
 
 Lov'd I not Honour more. 
 
 93
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 Lucafta Weeping 
 
 L 
 
 UCASTA wept, and still the bright 
 
 Inamour'd god of day. 
 With his soft handle etcher of light, 
 Kist the wet pearles away. 
 
 But when her teares his heate or'ccame 
 In cloudes he quensht his beames. 
 
 And griev'd, wept out his eye of flame. 
 So drowned her sad streames. 
 
 At this she smiled, when straight the sun 
 Cleer'd by her kinde desires : 
 
 And by her eyes' reflexion 
 Fast kindl'd there his fires. 
 
 Upon the Curtaine of Lucafta' f 
 Pidure 
 
 OH, stay that covetous hand : first turn all eye. 
 All depth and minde ; then mystically spyc 
 Her soul's faire pidure, her faire soul's, in all 
 So truely copied from th' originall. 
 That you will sweare her body by this law 
 Is but its shadow, as this, its ; — now draw. 
 
 94
 
 Richard Lovelace 
 
 Ellinda's Glove 
 
 THOU snowy farme with thy five tenements 1 
 Tell thy white mistns here was one. 
 That call'd to pay his dayly rents; 
 But she a-gathenng flow'rs and hearts is gone. 
 And thou left voyd to rude possession. 
 
 But grieve not, pretty Ermin cabinet. 
 Thy alabaster lady will come home ; 
 If not, what tenant can there fit 
 The slender turnings of thy narrow roome. 
 But must ejected be by his owne dombe? 
 
 Then give me leave to leave my rent with thee : 
 Five kisses, one unto a place : 
 For though the lute's too high for me. 
 Yet servants, knowing minikin nor base. 
 Are still allow 'd to fiddle with the case. 
 
 The Graffehopper 
 
 To my noble friend, Mr. Charles Cotton 
 
 OH thou, that swing'st upon the waving eare 
 Of some well-filled oaten beard. 
 Drunk ev'ry night with a delicious teare 
 Dropt thee from Heav'n, where now th' art rcard. 
 
 9b
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 The joyes of earth and ayfe are thine intire. 
 
 That with thy feet and wings doth hop and flye; 
 
 And when thy poppy workes. thou dost retire 
 To thy carv'd acorn-bed to lye. 
 
 Up with the day. the Sun thou welcomst then, 
 Sportst in the guilt plats of his beames. 
 
 And all these merry dayes mak'st merry men. 
 Thy selfe, and melancholy streames. 
 
 But ah, the sickle ? golden eares are cropt ; 
 
 Ceres and Bacchus bid good night : 
 Sharpe frosty fingers all your flowrs have topt. 
 
 And what sithes spar'd, winds shave off quite. 
 
 Poore verdant foole ! and now green ice. thy joys 
 Large and as lasting as thy peirch of grasse. 
 
 Bid us lay in 'gainst winter raine, and poize 
 Their flouds with an o'erflowing glasse. 
 
 Thou best of men and friends I we will create 
 A genuine summer in each other's breast : 
 
 And spite of this cold Time and frozen Fate, 
 Thaw us a warm seate to our rest. 
 
 Our sacred harthes shall burne eternally 
 
 As vestal flames : the North-wind, he 
 Shall strike his frost-stretch'd winges, dissolve and flye 
 
 This i€tna in epitome. 
 96
 
 Richard Lovelace 
 
 Dropping December shall come weeping in, 
 
 Bewayle th' usurping of his raigne : 
 
 But when in show'rs of old Creeke* we beginnc. 
 
 Shall crie, he hath his crowne againe ! * Greek 
 
 Wine 
 
 Night as cleare Hesper shall our tapers whip 
 From the light casements, where we play. 
 
 And the dark hagge from her black mantle strip. 
 And sticke there everlasting day. 
 
 Thus richer then untempted kings are we. 
 
 That asking nothing, nothing need : 
 Though lord of all what seas im brace, yet he 
 
 That wants himselfe, is poore indeed. 
 
 The Vintage to the Dungeon 
 
 SING out, pent soules, sing cheerefully! 
 Care shackles you in liberty : 
 Mirth frees you in captivity. 
 Would you double fetters addc ? 
 Else why so sadde ? 
 Chorus : 
 
 Besides your pinion'd armes youl finde 
 Criefe too can manakell the mindc. 
 
 97
 
 The Kings* Lyrics 
 
 live then, pris'ners. uncontfoll'd : 
 Drink o' th' strong, the rich, the old. 
 Till wine too hath your wits in hold ; 
 
 Then if still your jollitie 
 
 And throats are free — 
 Chorus : 
 Tryumph in your bondes and paines. 
 And dance to the music of your chaines 
 
 To Althea 
 
 From Prison 
 
 WHEN love with unconfined wings 
 Hovers within my gates: 
 And my divine Althea brings 
 To whisper at the grates : 
 When I lye tangled in her haire. 
 
 And fettered to her eye. 
 The birds, that wanton in the aif^ 
 Know no such liberty. 
 
 When flowing cups run swiftly round 
 
 With no allaying Thames, 
 Our carelesse heads with roses bound. 
 
 Our hearts with loyal flames: 
 98
 
 Richard Lovelace 
 
 When thirsty griefe in wine we steepc. 
 When healths and draughts go free. 
 
 Fishes, that tipple in the deepe. 
 Know no such Iibertie. 
 
 When (like committed linnets) I 
 
 With shriller throat shall sing 
 Yhe sweetnes, mercy, majesty. 
 
 And glories of my King. 
 When I shall voyce aloud, how good 
 
 He is, how great should be, 
 Inlarged winds, that curie the flood. 
 
 Know no such liberty. 
 
 Stone walls doe not a prison make. 
 
 Nor iron bars a cage : 
 Mindes innocent and quiet take 
 
 That for an hermitage : 
 If I have freedome in my love. 
 
 And iin my soule am free. 
 Angels alone that sore above 
 
 Enjoy such liberty. 
 
 99
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 Richard Brome (16 •• -1652) 
 
 Beggars' Song 
 
 COME I Come away I the Spring, 
 By every bird that can but sing 
 Or chirp a note, doth now invite 
 Us forth to taste of his delight. 
 In field, in grove, on hill, in dale ; 
 But above all the nightingale, 
 "Who in her sweetness strives t'ootdo 
 The loudness of the hoarse cuckoo. 
 "Cuckoo," cries he: "Jug. jug, jug," sings she: 
 From bush to bush, from tree to tree : 
 "Why in one place then tarry we ? 
 
 Come away I Why do we stay ? 
 We have no debts or rent to pay : 
 No bargains or accounts to make. 
 Nor land nor lease, to let or take : 
 Or if we had. should that remorc* us 
 "When all the world's our own before us. 
 And where we pass and make resort, 
 
 •flemore— hinder: from Remora. the name of afish supposed 
 to stick to ships and retard their progress. 
 100
 
 Xnfci'cndtif WHWcvihmgtaik ■ 
 
 James Shirley 
 After the original pidture in the Bodleian Gallery
 
 James Shirley 
 
 It is oof kingdom and ouf court. 
 
 "Cuckoo," cries he; "Jug, jug. jug," sings she: 
 
 From bush to bush, from tree to tree : 
 
 Why in one place then tarry we ? 
 
 From A Jovial Crew, or the Merry Beggars. 
 
 James Shirley (1594-1666) 
 
 Peace I(eftored 
 
 OU virgins, that did late despair 
 
 To keep your wealth from cruel men. 
 Tie up in silk your careless hair : 
 Soft peace is come again. 
 
 Y 
 
 Now lovers* eyes may gently shoot 
 
 A flame that will not kill ; 
 The drum was angry, but the lute 
 
 Shall whisper what you will. 
 
 Sing lo, lo ! for his sake 
 
 That hath restored your drooping heads; 
 With choice of sweetest flowers make 
 
 A garden where he treads ; 
 
 lOI
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 Whilst we whole groves of laurel bring, 
 
 A petty triumph for his brow. 
 Who is the master of our spring 
 
 And all the bloom we owe. 
 
 From The Imposture. 
 
 Death'r Subtle Waj/s 
 
 VICTORIOUS men of earth, no more 
 Proclaim how wide your empires are ; 
 Though you bind in every shore 
 And your triumphs reach as far 
 
 As night or day. 
 Yet you. proud monarchs, must obey 
 And mingle with forgotten ashes when 
 Death calls ye to the crowd of common men. 
 
 Devouring Famine. Plague, and War, 
 
 Each able to undo mankind. 
 Death's servile emissaries are ; 
 Nor to these alone confined. 
 
 He hath at will 
 More quaint and subtle ways to kill : 
 A smile or kiss, as he will use the art. 
 Shall have the cunning skill to break a heart. 
 
 From Copid and Death ; A Masque. 
 1 02
 
 James Shirley 
 
 No Armour Againft Fate 
 
 THE glories of our blood and state 
 Are shadows, not substantial things ; 
 There is no armour against Fate ; 
 Death lays his icy hand on kings : 
 Sceptre and crown 
 Must tumble down. 
 And in the dust be equal made 
 With the poor crooked scythe and spade. 
 
 Some men with swords may reap the field. 
 And plant fresh laurels where they kill : 
 But their strong nerves at last must yield ; 
 They tame but one another still : 
 Early or late. 
 They stoop to fate. 
 And must give up their murmuring breath. 
 When they, pale captives, creep to death. 
 
 The garlands wither on your brow. 
 
 Then boast no more your mighty deeds; 
 Upon Death's purple altar now. 
 See where the vidor-vidtim bleeds : 
 Your heads must come 
 To the cold tomb ; 
 Only the acltions of the just 
 Smell sweet and blossom in their dust. 
 
 From The Contention of Ajax and Ulysws. 
 103
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 John Milton (1608-1674) 
 On May Morning 
 
 Now the bright Morning Star, day's harbinger. 
 Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her 
 The flowery May. who from her green lap throws 
 The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose. 
 Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire 
 Mirth, and youth, and warm desire ! 
 Woods and groves are of thy dressing. 
 Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing : 
 Thus we salute thee with our early song. 
 And welcome thee, and wish thee long ! 
 
 O'er the Smooth Enamelled 
 Green 
 
 O'ER the smooth enamelled green. 
 Where no print of step hath been. 
 Follow me, as I sing 
 And touch the warbled string: 
 Under the shady roof 
 Of branching elm star-proof 
 104
 
 John Milton 
 From the engraving by George Vertuc
 
 John Milton 
 
 Follow me. 
 I •will bring you where she sits. 
 Clad m splendour, as befits 
 
 Her deity. 
 Such a rural queen 
 All Arcadia hath not seen. 
 
 From Arcades. 
 
 Nymphs and Shepherds^ Dance 
 no More 
 
 NYMPHS and shepherds, dance no more 
 By sandy Ladon's lilied banks : 
 On old LycjEus or Cyllene hoar. 
 Trip no more in twilight ranks: 
 Though Erymanth your loss deplore, 
 A better soil shall give ye thanks. 
 From the stony Maenalus 
 Bring your flocks and live with us ; 
 Here ye shall have better grace. 
 To serve the Lady of this place. 
 Though Syrinx your Pan's mistress were. 
 Yet Syrinx well might wait on her. 
 Such a rural queen 
 All Arcadia hath not seen. 
 
 from Arcades. 
 »o5
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 BY the rushy-fringed bank. 
 Where grows the willow and the osier dank. 
 My sliding chariot stays. 
 Thick set with agate, and the azure sheen 
 Of turquoise blue, and emerald green. 
 That in the channel strays : 
 "Whilst from off the waters fleet 
 Thus I set my printless feet 
 O'er the cowslip's velvet head. 
 That bends not as I tread : 
 Gentle swam, at thy request 
 I am here. 
 
 From Comos. 
 
 On the Nightingale 
 
 O NIGHTINGALE, that on yon bloomy spray 
 Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still. 
 Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart dost fill 
 While the jolly hours lead on propitious May. 
 Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day. 
 First heard before the shallow cuckoo's bill. 
 Portend success in love. Oh. if Jove's will 
 1 06
 
 John Milton 
 
 Have link'd that amoufous power to thy soft lay. 
 Now timely sing, ere the fude bird of hate 
 Foretell ray hopeless doom in some grove nigh : 
 As thou from year to year hast sung too late 
 For my relief, yet hadst no reason why : 
 "Whether the Muse, or Love, call thee his mate. 
 Both them I serve, and of their train am I. 
 
 107
 
 _/u^ ^ixLrt3 huLuiiwv\^yanma/}nUa..itriebrtt, 
 
 Michael Drayton 
 After the engraving by William Hole
 
 The Ballad of Agincourt 
 
 BY 
 
 Michael Drayton
 
 The Kings* Lyrics 
 
 Which in his height of pride. 
 As Henry to deride. 
 His ransorae to prouide 
 
 Unto him sending ; 
 Which he neglects the while. 
 As from a nation vyie. 
 Yet with an angry smile 
 
 Their fall portending. 
 
 And turning to his men. 
 Quoth famous Henry then. 
 Though they be one to ten. 
 
 Be not amazed : 
 Yet haue we well begun : 
 Battailes so brauely wonne 
 Euermore to the Sonne 
 
 By fame are raysed. 
 
 And for my selfe, (quoth hee) 
 This my full rest shall bee, 
 England nere mourne for me. 
 
 Nor more esteeme me : 
 Vidlor I will remaine. 
 Or on this earth be slainc : 
 Neuer shall she sustaine 
 
 Losse to redeeme me. 
 
 113
 
 Michael Drayton 
 
 Poitefs and Cressy tell, 
 
 "When moste theif pride did swell. 
 
 Under ouf swords they fell : 
 
 Ne lesse our skill is. 
 Then when our grandsyre greate. 
 Claiming the regall seatc. 
 In many a warlike feate 
 
 Lop'd the French Iillics. 
 
 The Duke of York soe dread 
 The eager vaward led : 
 With the maine Henry sped 
 
 Amongst his hench men. 
 Excester had the rear. 
 A brauer man not there. 
 And now preparing were 
 
 For the false Frenchmen 
 
 And ready to be gone. 
 Armour on armour shone. 
 Drum unto drum did grone. 
 
 To hear was woonder : 
 That with the cries they make 
 The very earth did shake : 
 Trumpet to trumpet spake. 
 
 Thunder to thunder. 
 
 "3
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 Well it thine age became, 
 O, noble Erpingham I 
 That didst the signall frame 
 
 Unto the forces ; 
 When from a medow by. 
 Like a storme, sodainely 
 The English archery 
 
 Stuck the French horses. 
 
 The Spanish ughe so strong, 
 Arrowes a cloth-yard long. 
 That like to serpent." stoong. 
 
 Piercing the wether : 
 None from his death now starts. 
 But playing manly parts. 
 And like true English harts 
 
 Stuck close together. 
 
 When down theyr bowes they threw. 
 And foorth theyr bilbowes drewe. 
 And on the French they flew. 
 
 No man was tardy. 
 Arms from the shoulders sent. 
 Scalps to the teeth were rent ; 
 Downe the French pesants went 
 
 These were men hardye. 
 114
 
 Michael Drayton 
 
 When now that noble King, 
 His broad sword brandishing. 
 Into the hoast did fling. 
 
 As to or'whelme it : 
 Who many a deep wound lent. 
 His armes with blood besprent. 
 And many a cruell dent 
 
 Brused his helmett. 
 
 Clo'ster that Duke so good. 
 Next to the royall blood. 
 For famous England stood 
 
 With his braue brother : 
 Clarence in Steele most bright. 
 That yet a maiden knighte. 
 Yet in this furious fighte 
 
 Scarce such an other. 
 
 Warwick in blood did wade, 
 Oxford the foes inuade. 
 And cruel slaughter made 
 
 Still as they ran up : 
 Suffolk his axe did ply, 
 Beaumont and Willoughby 
 Bare them right doughtyly, 
 
 Ferrers and Fanhope. 
 
 "5
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 On happy Cfyspia day 
 Fooght was this noble fray, 
 "Which fame did not delay 
 
 To England to carry. 
 O ! when shall Englishmen 
 With such adts fill a pen. 
 Or England breed agen 
 
 Such a King Harry ? 
 
 FINIS
 
 /isLc^ /3<>n /3<^ f^sUn /a<>=\ /sO^n z:^ 
 ^r ^r >r* *y* "y* "y* *y* t* *t "t y* *▼ *t t* *t 
 
 INDEX TO AUTHORS 
 
 With first Lines of tKeir Poems 
 
 Bromey J^/chard (i 6.. -1652) 
 
 Come! Come away! the Spring lOO 
 
 Browne y William (1590-1650?) 
 
 Steer hither, steer your winged pines 35 
 
 Venus by Adonis' side 36 
 
 Campion y Thomas (6 191—) 
 
 Harden now thy tired heart with more than flinty rage 4 
 
 Love me or not, love her I must or die 5 
 
 Maids to bed and cover coal 6 
 
 Never love unless you can 6 
 
 Now winter nights enlarge 7 
 
 There is a garden in her face 8 
 
 Cartwrighty William (16 11-1643) 
 
 Tell me not of Joy I there *s none 74 
 
 Chloe. why wish you that your years 75 
 
 Carew, Thomas (1598-1638) 
 
 Know. Celia, since thou art so proud 52 
 
 He that loves a rosy cheek 53 
 
 Hark, how my Celh, with the choice 54 
 
 Ask me no more where Joce bestows 55 
 
 "7
 
 The Kings* Lyrics 
 
 In Love's name you are charged hereby 56 
 
 Fate's now grown merciful to men 58 
 
 Farewell, fair Saint ! may not the sea and wind 59 
 
 Be fixed, you rapid Orbs, that bear 60 
 
 Charles /., King (i 600-1 649) 
 
 Great Monarch of the world, from whose power 
 
 springs 1 9 
 
 Close thine eyes, and sleep secure 22 
 
 CrafhaWj B^ichard (1612-1648) 
 
 Hail sister Springs 90 
 
 Lord, when the sense of Thy sweet grace 90 
 
 Two mites, two drops, yet all her house and land 91 
 
 Though now 'tis neither May nor June 92 
 
 Drayton^ Michael (1563-1631) 
 
 Fayre stood the winde for France iii 
 
 Drummondy William (i 5851 649) 
 
 Sweet bird, that sing'st away the early hours 14 
 
 I know that all beneath the moon decays 14 
 
 Phoebus, arise J 5 
 
 Sweet Spring, thou com'st with all thy goodly train 17 
 
 My lute, be as thou wert when thou didst grow 18 
 
 O do not kill that bee 18 
 
 Fanfhawe^ Sir Richard (1607-1666) 
 
 Let us use it while we may oo 
 118
 
 Index to Authors 
 Farley^ Henry 
 
 To see a strange outlandish fowl 13 
 
 Grahame^ James: Marquis of 
 Montr of e (16 1 2-1 650) 
 
 My dear and only love, I pray 25 
 
 Great, good, and just, could I but rate 27 
 
 Habington^ William (1605-1654) 
 
 Sing forth, sweet Cherubm (for we have choice 85 
 
 Like the violet, which alone 86 
 
 Fair mistress of the Earth, with garlands crown'd 88 
 
 Herbert, George (i593-'633) 
 
 I had prepared many a flowre 45 
 
 Lord, with what care hast Thou begirt us round 45 
 
 Who says that ficJtions onely and false hair 46 
 Sweetest of sweets. I thank you : when displeasure 47 
 
 My God. a verse is not a crown 48 
 
 Money, thou bane of blisse and source of wo 48 
 
 Love built a stately house, where Fortune came 49 
 
 The merrie World did on a day 50 
 
 Love bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back 51 
 
 Her rick, I(obert (i 591-1674) 
 
 A sweet disorder in the dress 37 
 
 About the sweet bag of a bee 37 
 
 As Julia once a-slumbenng lay 38 
 
 119
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 Gather ye fose-buds while ye may 40 
 
 As lately I a garland bound 41 
 
 Ye have been fresh and green 41 
 
 Who forms a godhead out of gold of stone 42 
 
 Fair daffodils, we weep to see 42 
 
 Shut not so soon ; the dull-ey'd night 43 
 
 Fair pledges of a fruitful tree 44 
 
 James /., King (1566-1625) 
 
 As I was pansing in a morning aire i 
 
 We find by proof, that into every age 3 
 
 Cod gives not kings the stile of Cods in vaine 4 
 
 Jonefy liobert 
 
 And is it night? are they thine eyes that shine? 9 
 
 Soft, Cupid, soft, there is no haste 10 
 
 The sea hath many thousand sands 10 
 
 Lovelace^ I(ichard (i 6181 658) 
 
 Tell me not, (sweet,) I am unkinde 93 
 
 Lucasta wept, and still the bright 94 
 
 Oh, stay that covetous hand ; first turn all eye 94 
 
 Thou snowy farme with thy five tenements 95 
 
 Oh thou, that swing'st upon the waving care 95 
 
 Sing out, pent soules. sing cheerfully 97 
 
 When love with unconfined wings 98 
 
 Middle ton ^ Thomas (1570?-! 627) 
 
 Happy times we live to see la 
 120
 
 Index to Authors 
 
 Milton^ John (i 608-1 674) 
 
 Now the bright Morning Star, day's harbinger 104 
 
 O'er the smooth enamelled green 104 
 
 Nymphs and shepherds, dance no more 105 
 
 By the rushy fringed bank 106 
 
 O nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray 106 
 
 Nabbesj Thomas (1612?—) 
 
 What though with figures I should raise 89 
 
 Ouar/ess Francis (i 592-1664) 
 
 Know then, my brethren, heaven is clear 77 
 
 What, Cupid, are thy shafts already made? 79 
 
 False world, thou ly'st : thou canst not lend 79 
 
 My heart! but wherefore do I call thee so 81 
 Look not, my watch, being once repair 'd, to stand 82 
 
 Believe her not. her glass diffuses 82 
 
 What need that house be daub'd with flesh and 
 
 blood? 84 
 
 Sandys^ George (i577-'^3) 
 
 The Muse who from your influence took her birth 23 
 Chaste Nymph, you who extraded are 24 
 
 Thou brought'st me home in safety, that this earth 24 
 
 Shirley^ James (1594-1666) 
 
 You virgins, that did late despair 10 1 
 
 121
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 Victorious men of earth, no more loa 
 
 The glories of our blood and state 103 
 
 Sucklings Sir John (i 609-1 641) 
 
 I tell thee. Dick, where I have been 6i 
 
 One of her hands one of her cheeks lay under 66 
 
 Dost see how unregarded now 67 
 
 The little boy. to show his might and power 68 
 
 Hast thou seen the down in the air 69 
 
 I am a man of war and might 69 
 
 Why so pale and wan. fond lovef? 70 
 
 Out upon it. I have loved 71 
 
 I prithee send me back my heart 72 
 
 There's one request I make to Him 73 
 
 Vauter^ Thomas 
 
 Sweet Suffolk owl, so trimly dight ii 
 
 Wither, George (15881667) 
 
 Shall I, wasting in despair 27 
 
 Now gentle sleep hath closed up those eyes 29 
 
 Amaryllis I did woo 30 
 
 Lordly gallants, tell me this 30 
 
 Hence, away, thou Siren, leave mc 31 
 
 Farewell, sweet groves, to you 34 
 
 I as
 
 THE TABLE 
 
 or. Index to first Lines 
 
 A bout the sweet bag of a bee (Herrkk) 37 
 
 ''* Amaryllis I did woo ( Wither) 30 
 And IS It night? are they thine eyes that shine? 
 
 (Jones) ... 9 
 
 As I was pansing in a morning aire (King fames I.) i 
 
 As Julia once a-slumbering lay (Herrick) 38 
 
 Ask me no more where /oce bestows (Careic) 55 
 
 As lately I a garland bound (Herrick) 41 
 
 A sweet disorder in the dress (Herrick) 37 
 
 B 
 
 l>e fixed, you rapid Orbs, that bear (Carew) 60 
 
 Believe her not. her glass diffuses (Quarks) 82 
 
 By the rushy fringed bank (Milton) 106 
 
 c 
 
 ^haste Nymph, you who extra(ited are (Sandys) 24 
 Chloe, why wish you that your years (Cart- 
 wright) 75 
 Close thine eyes, and sleep secure (King Charles 
 
 I.) 22 
 
 Come ! Come away ! the Spring (Richard Brome) 1 00 
 
 D 
 
 T\os\ see how unregarded now (Suckling) 67
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 pair daffodils, we weep to see (Herrkk) 43 
 Fair mistress of the Earth, with garlands crown'd 
 
 (Habington) 88 
 
 Fair pledges of a fruitful tree (Herrkk) 44 
 False world, thou ly'st; thou canst not lend 
 
 (Quarles) 79 
 Farewell, fair Saint! may not the sea and wind 
 
 (Carew) 59 
 
 Farewell, sweet groves, to you ( Withsr) 34 
 
 Fate's now grown merciful to men (Carew) 58 
 
 Fayre stood the winde for France (Drayton) in 
 
 /^ather ye rose-buds while ye may (Herrkk) 40 
 
 God gives not kings the stile of Cods in vame 
 
 (King fames I.) 4 
 
 Great, good, and just, could I but rate (Grahame) 27 
 
 Great Monarch of the world, from whose power 
 
 springs (King Charles I.) 19 
 
 H 
 
 I-Iail sister Springs (Crashaw) 90 
 
 Happy times we live to see (Middleton) 12 
 Harden now thy tired heart with more than flinty 
 
 rage (Campion) 4 
 
 Hark, how my Celia, with the choice (Careic) 54 
 
 Hast thou seen the down in the air (Suckling) 69 
 
 Hence, away, thou Siren, leave me (Wither) 31 
 
 He that loves a rosy cheek (Carew) 53 
 124
 
 Index to First Lines 
 
 T am a man of war and might (Suckling) 69 
 
 I had prepared many a flowre (Herbert) 45 
 I know that all beneath the moon decays (Drum- 
 
 mond) 14 
 
 In Love's name you are charged hereby (Carew) 56 
 
 I prithee send me back my heart (Suckling) 72 
 
 I tell thee, Dick, where I have been (Suckling) 61 
 
 K 
 
 l/'now, Celia, since thou art so proud (Carew) 52 
 Know then, my brethren, heaven is clear 
 
 (Quarles) jj 
 
 J et us use it while we may (Fanshawe) 60 
 
 Like the violet, which alone (Habington) 86 
 Look not. my watch, being once repair'd, to stand 
 
 (Quarles) 82 
 
 Lordly gallants, tell me this ( Wither) 30 
 
 Lord, when the sense of Thy sweet grace (Crashaw) 90 
 Lord, with what care hast Thou begirt us round 
 
 (Herbert) 45 
 Love bade me welcome; yet ray soul drew back 
 
 (Herbert) 51 
 Love built a stately house, where Fortune came 
 
 (Herbert) 49 
 
 Love me or not. love hef I must or die (Camp/on) 5 
 
 Lucasta wept, and still the bright (Lovelace) 94 
 
 '25
 
 The Kings' Lyrics 
 
 M 
 
 "Vf aids to bed and cover coal (Camphn) 6 
 Money, thou bane of blisse and source of wo 
 
 (Herbert) 48 
 
 My dear and only love, I pray (Grahame) 25 
 
 My Cod, a verse is not a crown (Herbert) 48 
 
 My heart ! but wherefore do I call thee so ? ( Quarles) 8 1 
 My lute, be as thou wert when thou didst grow 
 
 (Drummond) 18 
 iV 
 
 T^ever love unless you can (Camphn) 6 
 ^ Now gentle sleep hath closM up those eyes 
 
 (Wither) 29 
 Now the bright Morning Star, day's harbinger 
 
 (Milton) 104 
 
 Now winter nights enlarge (Campion) j 
 
 Nymphs and shepherds, dance no more (Milton) 105 
 
 o 
 
 /^ do not kill that bee (Drummond) 18 
 
 ^"^ O'er the smooth enamelled green (Milton) 104 
 Oh, stay that covetous hand: first turn all eye 
 
 (Locelace) 94 
 Oh thou, that swing'st upon the waving eare (Loce- 
 lace) 95 
 One of her hands one of her cheeks lay under 
 
 (Suckling) 66 
 
 O nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray (Milton) 106 
 
 Out upon it, I have loved (Suckling) 71 
 
 P 
 
 phocbus, arise (Drummond) 15 
 
 126
 
 Index to First Lines 
 s 
 
 Ohall I. wasting m despair ( Wither) 27 
 
 Shut not so soon ; the dull-ey'd night (Herrick) 43 
 Sing forth, sweet Cherubin (for we have choice 
 
 (Habington) 85 
 
 Sing out, pent soules. sing cheerfully (Locelace) 97 
 
 Soft, Cupid, soft, there is no haste (Jones) 10 
 
 Steer hither, steer your winged pines (Brotcne) 35 
 Sweet bird, that sing'st away the early hours 
 
 (Drummond) 14 
 Sweetest of sweets. I thank you : when displeasure 
 
 (Herbert) 47 
 Sweet Spring, thou com'st with all thy goodly 
 
 train (Drummond) 17 
 
 Sweet Suffolk owl, so trimly dight (Vauter) 11 
 
 T 
 
 •yell me not of joy! there 's none (Cartwright) 74 
 
 Tell me not, (sweet.) I am unkmde (Locelace) 93 
 
 The glories of our blood and state (Shirley) 103 
 The little boy. to show his might and power 
 
 (Suckling) 68 
 
 The merrie World did on a day (Herbert) 50 
 The Muse who from your influence took hef birth 
 
 (Sandys) ^ 23 
 
 There is a garden in her face (Campion) 8 
 
 There's one request I make to Him (Suckling) 73 
 
 The sea hath many thousand sands (Jones) 10 
 Thou brought'st me home in safety, that this earth 
 
 (Sandys) 24 
 Thou snowy farme with thy five tenements (Loce- 
 lace) 9S 
 »*7
 
 The Kings* Lyrics 
 
 Though now 'tis neither May nor June (Crashaic) 9^ 
 
 To see a strange outlandish fowl (Farley) 13 
 Two mites, two drops, yet all her house and land 
 
 {Crashaic) 91 
 
 V 
 
 \renus by Adonis' side {Browne) 36 
 
 Victorious men of earth, no more {Shirley) 102 
 
 w 
 
 TYTe find by proof, that into every age {King 
 
 fames I.) 3 
 
 What.Cupid. are thy shafts already made? (Quar/gs) 79 
 What need that house be daub'd with flesh and 
 
 blood ? {Quarles) 84 
 
 What though with figures I should raise {Nabbes) 89 
 
 When love with unconfined wings {Lovelace) 98 
 Who forms a godhead out of gold or stone {Her- 
 
 rick) 42 
 Who says that fictions onely and false hair {Her- 
 bert) 46 
 Why so pale and wan, fond lover? {Suckling) 70 
 
 Y 
 
 Ve have been fresh and green {Herrick) 41 
 
 You virgins, that did late despair {Shirley) 10 1 

 
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