Through spite of our worst enemies, thy friends; As was the amorous youth's o'er Helle's sea: To let thy beams shine on me from afar; For, when thy light goes out, I sink and die. SILENCE. Curse on this tongue, that has my heart betray'd, Since 'tis for me to lose my life more fit, That in my breast does reign; Silence perhaps may make it sleep: A river, ere it meet the sea, Unless it join and mix with thee: If any end or stop of it be found, We know the flood runs still, though under ground, THE DISSEMBLER. UNHURT, untouch'd, did I complain, I thought, I'll swear, an handsome lye Darts, and wounds, and flame, and heat, In things where fancy much does reign, I wrote to kindle and blow others' fire; THE INCONSTANT, I NEVER yet could see that face Love, thou 'rt a devil, if I may call thee one; Colour, or shape, good limbs, or face, If all fail, yet 'tis woman-kind; If fair, she 's pleasant as the light; If low, her prettiness does please; If black, what lover loves not night? If yellow-hair'd, I love, lest it should be Th' excuse to others for not loving me. The fat, like plenty, fills my heart; The lean, with love makes me too so: If straight, her body's Cupid's dart To me; if croo' ed, 'tis his bow: Nay, age itself does me to rage incline, And strength to women gives, as well as wine. Just half as large as Charity My richly-landed Love's become; And, judg'd aright, is Constancy, Though it take up a larger room: Him, who loves always one, why should they call More constant than the man loves always all? Thus with unwearied wings I flee Through all Love's gardens and his fields; And, like the wise, industrious bee, No weed but honey to ine yields! Honey still spent this diligence still supplies, Though I return not home with laden thighs. My soul at first indeed did prove Of pretty strength aga nsi a dart, TII I this habit got of love; But my consum'd and wasted neart, Once burnt to tinder with a strong desire, Since that, by every spark is set on fire. THE CONSTANT. GREAT and wise conqueror, who, where'er Thou com'st, dost fortify, and settle there! Who canst defend as well as get, Had thy charming strength been less, Close, narrow chain, yet soft and kind Which does not force, but guide, our liberty! HER NAME. WITH more than Jewish reverence as yet When will our love be nam'd, and we possess Nor, till the happy nuptial Muse be seen, Rest, mighty name! till then; for thou must be Thick as the flowers in meadows lie, (As sure, I think, they will not die) To represent thee by; Adam (God's nomenclator) could not frame WEEPING. SEE where she sits, and in what comely wise Drops tears more fair than others' eyes! Ah, charming maid! let not Ill-fortune see Nor know the beauty of thy tears; For she 'll still come to dress herself in thee. In every drop, methinks, her eye. Like a Narcissus does appear, Whilst in his flood the lovely boy did gaze. Ne'er yet did I behold such glorious weather, As this sun-shine and rain together. Pray Heaven her forehead, that pure hill of snow, (For some such fountain we must find, To waters of so fair a kind) Melt not, to feed that beauteous stream below! Ah, mighty Love! that it were inward heat Which made this precious limbeck sweat! But what, alas! ah, what does it avail, That she weeps tears so wondrous cold, DISCRETION. DISCREET! what means this word discreet? A curse on all discretion! This barbarous term you will not meet In all Love's lexicon. Jointure, portion, gold, estate, Houses, household-stuff, or land, (The low conveniences of Fate) Are Greek no lovers understand. The two first things it does remove Passion 's half blind, nor can endure Will, without grief or pain, As well might martyrs, who do choose Mourn for the cloaths which they must lose, THE WAITING-MAID. THY Maid! ah! find some nobler theme Whereon thy doubts to place; Nor by a low suspect b'aspheme Alas! she makes thee shine so fair, So exquisitely bright, That her diin lamp must disappear Before thy potent light. Three hours each morn in dressing thee And make that beauty tyranny, That 's else a civil government. Th' adorning thee with so much art Too apt before to kill. The ministering angels none can see; 'Tis not their beauty or their face, For which by men they worship'd be; But their high office and their place. Thou art my goddess, my saint she; I pray to her, only to pray to thee. COUNSEL. AH! what advice can I receive! No, satisfy me first; A little puff of breath, we find, Small fires can quench and kill; Now whilst you speak, it moves me much, THE CURE. COME, doctor! use thy roughest art, Cut, burn, and torture, every part, There is no danger, if the pain Should me to a fever bring; Compar'd with heats I now sustain, A fever is so cool a thing, (Like drink which feverish men desire) That I should hope 'twould almost quench my fire. THE SEPARATION. Ask me not what my love shall do or be "Twill last, I'm sure, and that is all we know. The thing call'd soul will never stir nor move, But all that while a lifeless carcase prove; For 'tis the body of my love: But still continue; as, they say, Sad troubled ghosts about their graves do stray. I cut my love into his gentle bark, And in three days, behold! 'tis dead: My very written flames so violent be, They 've burnt and wither'd-up the tree. How should I live myself, whose heart is found Deeply graven every where With the large history of many a wound, Larger than thy trunk can bear à With art as strange as Homer in the nut, Love in my heart has volumes put. What a few words from thy rich stock did take As a strong poison with one drop does make Love (I see now) a kind of witchcraft is, Or characters could ne'er do this.. 'Tis a strange kind of ignorance this in you, That your bright beams, as those of comets do, That truly you my idol might appear, Whilst all the people smell and see Thou sitt'st, and dost not see, nor smell, nor hear, They see 't too well who at my fires repine; Nay, th' unconcern'd themselves do prove Quick-ey'd enough to spy my love; Nor does the cause in thy face clearlier shine, Than the effect appears in mine. Fair infidel! by what unjust decree Must I, who with such restless care I, by thy unbelief, am guiltless slain: And raise me from the dead again! 2 THE GAZERS. [call; COME, let's go on, where love and youth does To show such stores, and nothing grant, As man and wife in picture do: But th' amour at last improv'd; Beyond the tyrannous pleasures of the eye; Unless it heal, as well as strike: I would not, salamander-like, In scorching heats always to live desire, And gently kisses every thing! His loving beams unlock each maiden flower, Search all the treasures, all the sweets devour: Then on the earth, with bridegroom-heat, He does still new flowers beget. The Sun himself, although all eye-he be, Can find in love more pleasure than to see. THE INCURABLE. I TRY'D if books would cure my love, but found I apply'd receipts of business to my wound, As well might men who in a fever fry, Mathematic doubts debate; As well might men who mad in darkness lie, I try'd devotion, sermons, frequent prayer, I try'd in wine to drown the mighty care; Like drunkards' eyes, my troubled fancy there I try'd what mirth and gaiety would do, 'Gainst this, some new desire to stir, And lov'd again, but 'twas where I espy'd Some faint resemblances of her. The physic made me worse, with which I strove As wholesome med'cines the disease improve HONOUR. SHE loves, and she confesses too; What's this, ye gods! what can it be? Have I o'ercome all real foes, Noisy nothing! stalking shade! THE INNOCENT ILL. THOUGH all thy gestures and discourses be That what to th' eye a beauteous face, So cunningly it wounds the heart, It strikes such heat through every part, Though in thy thoughts scarce any tracks have Thou, with strange adultery, That a fly's death's a wound to thee; Of judge, of torturer, and of weapon too. Which God did for our faults create! Thou kind, well-natur'd tyranny! Which no man can, or would escape! So gentle, and so glad to spare, So wondrous good, and wondrous fair, (We know) ev'n the destroying-angels are. DIALOGUE. She. WHAT have we done? what cruel passion mov'd thee, Thus to ruin her that lov'd thee? Me thou 'ast robb'd; but what art thou. Shame succeeds the short-liv'd pleasure; So soon is spent, and gone, this thy ill-gotten treasure! He. We have done no harm; nor was it theft in me, But noblest charity in thee. What though the flower itself do waste, The essence from it drawn does long and sweeter last. She. No: I'm undone; my honour thou hast slain, Is but t' embalm a body dead; The figure may remain, the life and beauty's fled. He. Never, my dear, was Honour yet undone To th' wise it all things does allow; Like tapers shut in ancient urns, Wilt make thy wicked boast of it; Nor think a perfect victory gain'd, Unless they through the streets their captive lead enchain'd. He. Whoe'er his secret joys has open laid, 'Tis you the conqueror are, 'tis you Who have not only ta'en, but bound and gagg'd me too. She. Though public punishment we escape, the Will rack and torture us within: [sin When long 't bas gnaw'd within,will break the He. That thirsty drink, that hungry food, I sought, That wounded balm is all my fault; VERSES LOST UPON A WAGER, AS soon hereafter will I wagers lay 'Gainst what an oracle shall say; Fool that I was, to venture to deny A tongue so us'd to victory! A tongue so blest by Nature and by Art, Reason, methinks, was on my side; She said, she said herself it would be so; Never so justly, sure, before, Errour the name of blindness bore; There's no man that has eyes would bet for me. When they descend to human view) So dazzling bright, yet so transparent clear, Which could thy shape naked like Truth espy. Than what I ow'd to thee before: Who would not venture for that debt to play, Which he were bound howe'er to pay? If Nature gave me power to write in verse, She gave it me thy praises to rehearse : Thy wondrous beauty and thy wit Has such a sovereign right to it, That no man's Muse for public vent is free, Till she has paid her customs first to thee. BATHING IN THE RIVER. THE fish around her crowded, as they do As she at first took me ; For ne'er did light so clear Though every night the Sun himself set there. |